#low country gothic

[heartshapedcaskett]

Sun bleached and sunken in the Georgia soil.

[insleywinsley]

2019. ph. Insley Smullen.

[lesbianjudasiscariot]

[gamermattsgf]

Horror movie hot takes // Matt + Chris

Again, I’m sorry that this is not my proper writing, but don’t worry! My breeding kink oneshot is on its way, I gotchu guys ;) I’m hopefully going to be dropping it some time in the middle of the week, so this is just some light and fun reading to do until then whilst you wait - if you want of course… pls humour my stupid ideas lol.

Thank you to whoever suggested this because I’ve been dying to give u guys my breakdown. Horror is one of my FAV genres, idk why, I just love scaring myself. Also, I don’t have just one to share with u guys, but three different options each because it’s such an expansive genre with so many probable things to pick from. You guys can probably tell that I have way too much fun with these things… (Plus they’d look good in multiple different genres and I rlly wish I could add more but I don’t want these to get too long bc they’re meant to be hot takes).

Obviously, a couple of the pictures I’ve used for the visuals may be potentially triggering as they contain blood and other disturbing bits of paraphernalia, so please if you’re squeamish, proceed with caution!!

But anyways…

Matt:

First up Matt’s most likely to star in some type of rural corn maze horror. I’m thinking proper Southern gothic style, low quality, out in the sticks and with only a small population in the farming town where he resides.

I could so see the storyline following the main character who moves to this place, but very quickly gets that sinking feeling in her stomach that there’s something not right about the town, from the way the locals look at her to the way Matt speaks when she first arrives. There’s got to be that cliché plot line where something suspicious is afoot, something that she wants to unearth.

Matt’s character gives off creepy neighbour vibes, like the kind that watches the main character from behind his curtains as she unloads the moving truck. This Matt is properly country too, from the cowboy boots on his feet to his red flannel shirt and his shotgun that he randomly carries around because he’s a sheep farmer (do I envision him using his country accent, yes, yes I do).

Long story short, the rural town isn’t just a town, it’s actually a cult, and the reason the farmers rear cattle and mind sheep is so that they can conduct ritualistic sacrifices with them.

(I lowkey wish this was a movie I’d eat this kind of twisted shit up)

For his second movie I’m absolutely obsessed with the idea of putting him in a domestic psychological thriller- so proper stalking vibes. I’m thinking something like ‘You’ but almost making him a more extreme version of Joe Goldberg.

Possibly he’s maybe the main character’s co-worker, who takes the secret affection he has for her a little too far? Or even just an absolutely psychotic ex that refuses to let her go… In short this is the kind of movie that doesn’t quite give you that exhilarating rush of jump-scares, but instead tries to make you as physically uncomfortable as possible with an absolutely horrific instrumental soundtrack playing underneath it.

I’m not sure why I chose this branch of horror, but something about the way Matt looks just really did it for me, it’s so difficult to explain but his physical appearance fits the overall image of someone with an obsessive attitude towards a loved one.

Three words. Found footage horror. These kind of horror movies scare me the most because of that idea of it being ‘found footage’. Equally, ‘based on true story’ horrors also mildly unsettle me just because of that idea that it’s been reimagined from a real life event.

Matt’s found footage is giving ‘The Blair Witch Project’, I can defintely see him out in the wilderness with a bunch of his really close friends, all with camcorders in their hands as they document their time camping in the woods. Until everything goes terribly wrong. And they get lost. And are picked off one by one until Matt is the only one standing.

There is no soundtrack this time, just heavy breathing, crunching leaves underneath running footsteps, the sound of the wind in the trees and the occasional blood curdling shriek of whatever is hunting them down.

(I should seriously become a director lmaoo)

Chris:

Now onto Chris… most people often think Chris would thrive in a classic 90’s slasher flick- like ‘Scream’ or ‘Friday the 13th’ which I’m not going to argue against because he really would look great in one. It fits his overall vibe of being the jock boyfriend that is one of the first ones to die after him and his girlfriend stupidly break off from the group to ‘fool around’.

HOWEVER, I personally think that a game show gore horror is more his speed, it fits his skill set better. I feel like Chris would be really versatile in this kind of high-pressure environment and I’d honestly love to see him in a franchise like the ‘Saw’ movies (I want to hear him whimpering in pain) -WHAT…? Who said that??

This Chris is just an ordinary guy who works an ordinary but depressingly mundane job that does not come with the best pay… so what happens when he gets an ad mailed through his letter box promising money to whoever volunteers to try out this new and exciting game for a reality tv show? Well it’s simple, Chris would do anything for a dollar, so he signs up- not taking into account at all about how advertisements like this aren’t normally personally mailed to a person and that quite possibly this letter had actually been specifically targeted to people who were known to be in desperate need of some spare change.

The result? A wicked sadist trapping these poor people into machines and torturing them for his own personal gain.

(Fuck I love this idea)

This next one is a bit of a curve ball but roll with me here… a deep sea horror. Fun fact about me, I have horrible thalassophobia, and a severe fear of sharks (I know, stupid) but I can’t help it lol, they terrify me. However, still rolling with the overall cocky/jock/playboy characterisation of Chris, I could definitely picture him being some form of deep sea diving protege that’s a cave diving expert.

He’s a side character in the thriller that is called in when they need help with locating whatever monster lurks beneath the waves. Due to his speciality in the field, he’s one of the best, and co-leads a team of divers through a cave to see if they can sus out its location.

This Chris likes to wear a lot of blue things, and he’s constantly either smugly chewing on gum or is biting a toothpick within his teeth with an air of superiority about him. The soundtrack helps with the overall gritting suspense of the movie and keeps you on the edge of your seat constantly with jump-scares around every corner.

And finally, who the fuck would I be if I didn’t rope Chris into a zombie/pandemic apocalypse horror? Because this kind of movie has Chris written all over it, real TWD style. For some reason, within the whole horror genre in its entirety Chris fits the branch of gore horror the best, blood, guts and big spectacles of action packed violence. You name it, Chris looks like he could be apart of it.

In an apocalypse kind of situation, Chris would definitely be either a side character who you meet maybe about half way through the series - possibly from some other rival gang that threatens to steal your weapons - or one of the original main characters that have survived thus far. His weapon of choice is definitely either a trusty crowbar, or a classic metal baseball bat, something that he can really swing and satisfy his frenzied killing needs with.

Aesthetics wise, he wear a black bandana to keep the hair out of his face, a white tank top and army green cargo shorts. Pair them with some heavy duty black boots and you’ve got yourself a mighty attractive apocalypse survivor to spend the rest of your shortened life span with.

Author’s notes: someone needs to take my phone AND my imagination away from me immediately at this point, it’s too powerful when they’re put together. I get wayyyy too carried away with this shit lol. I have such a vivid imagination it’s insane to me, I be writing whole ass screen plays for these Jesus Christ. But anyways, I wanna see those two in a horror movie so fucking bad (if you couldn’t tell hehe). Or maybe just watch a horror movie with them… like- dw baby boy I’ll hold your hand at the scary bits hahahaha.

Again, a list of people who I think would entertain my silly little ideas: @luvmila444 @luv4kozume @luverboychris @mattestrella @mattslutt @nicksmainbitch @ellie-luvsfics @orangeypepsi @sturniolosreads @sturniolowhore @sturniolosstar @imwetforyourmom @thesturniolos @strniohoeee @rootbeerworshiper @lacysturniolo @matthemunch @1800chokedathoe @asturniolos @vecnasnose0 @meanttomeet @mattscokewhore @stursweet @breeloveschris @kvtie444 @lovingmattysposts @bernardsgf @fake-sturniolos

[lipglossanon]

Winter’s Knight

vampire!Leon S. Kennedy x fem!reader

inspired by Leon’s romantic look 😌 and the song Dracula’s Wedding by OutKast 💜 also the poetry mentioned is from Emily Dickinson; there’s also one line plucked from Dracula

Warnings: 18+ MDNI, biting/marking, fated pair, strangers to lovers, blood, blood kink, scent kink, dirty talk, oral (f receiving), OC friend of reader named Lara just in case that throws anyone off, unprotected sex, creampie

title from Winter’s Knight album by Nox Arcana

Merry Christmas/Happy Holidays!! 💜 😘

“It’s an opportunity of a lifetime,” you mimic in a high tone before rolling your eyes, “opportunity my ass.”

Your friend Lara convinced you to go on this holiday trip with her, all expenses paid, as she wanted the company. The boyfriend that was originally going to be accompanying her had been dumped the week prior. Cheaters never win had been Lara’s flippant reply when asked. 

It felt like it happened overnight and before you knew it, Lara had whisked you away to three different countries one of which being the current visit in question. You think you’re in Romania or maybe Estonia; you’re a little mixed up as your plans had changed mid train ride. 

Lara’s family had some connections in the area and so you were both staying in a rather posh old castle turned tourist destination. 

A very lovely place except now you were completely turned around when all you wanted was to get a bottle of water from the concierge and go back to bed. Your footsteps have slowed considerably as you take in the magnificent gothic architecture and the beautiful paintings ranging from landscapes to some strange brooding man encapsulated in shadows; you’re never fully able to make out what he looks like, too much shadow blanking his features. 

You find yourself at a dead end, ornate furniture filling the space with a singular painting taking up the entire wall. It literally takes your breath away. It must be the place you’re staying in, the front gate still looks the same from what you can tell; it’s this castle seated on a rocky cliff face overlooking the villa down below. Your hand reaches out to touch, but you hover over the gilded frame before dropping it back to your side. 

“Lovely, no?”

A smooth, low voice has you spinning around, a thrill of fear humming in your chest. 

A man stands to the side, a little further down the hall. He’s tall, slim waisted with broad shoulders that stick out to you, even being shrouded in the dim lighting like he is; his eyes shine like an animal’s before you blink and it’s gone. 

That small niggling of fear in your brain is getting louder as he moves closer, making no sound in his sharp dress shoes. 

He keeps his eyes locked on the painting as he stops next to you.

“Quite an ancient castle,” he murmurs, almost too low for you to hear. 

When he finally turns to face you, you almost gasp. He’s beautiful, almost ethereal with his snowy white hair and fair complexion; both make the blue of his eyes almost glacial. 

He smiles sardonically, “Lost?”

You squint your eyes at him, lips pursing in suspicion, “You could say that.”

He grins and his teeth glint sharply before he turns, holding his arm out for you. 

“I can guide you back to your room, miss?”

You smile sarcastically as you step up alongside him, completely ignoring the proffered arm, “Miss is just fine, sir.”

His eyes flick from the end of the hallway to you and he hums in amusement, “Well miss, shall I lead the way?”

“Oh, please do,” you simper and this earns a low chuckle from the handsome stranger, making your heartbeat flutter at the sound. 

He guides you back to the foyer and up the grand staircase, pointing out paintings or furniture that have some kind of significance to the castle. Pausing in front of an oil painting not far from your room, he falls into a sort of melancholy. 

“This was one of the ladies of the castle,” he finally pulls back, turning without looking back at you, “I’m sure you can find the rest of your way, miss.”

You startle, not realizing he was just going to dip out now. 

“Hey!”

He pauses, half turning so you can see the profile of his straight nose and sharp cheekbone.

“Thanks, mister?” You trail off, hand fluttering in the air as you gesture. 

He fully turns to smile at you, “Mister is just fine, thanks.”

You can’t stop the laugh that bubbles out of your chest, missing the way he lights up at the sound, eyes cataloging you far more closely than before. 

“Well, thanks Mister,” you shake your head, smile still stretched across your face, “maybe I’ll see you around then.”

“Maybe,” he murmurs, bowing to you at the waist, “goodnight, Miss.”

“Goodnight,” you tilt your head and wave your hand.

Laughing to yourself, you turn and head further down the hall and into your room.  He watches you until the door clicks shut and he turns back to leave. Pausing in front of the painting once more, he brushes a thumb across the placard on the bottom. 

“She feels like the one, hmm?” He murmurs to the half smiling woman, “now that she’s here, I don’t know if I can do it.”

A door snapping shut from further down the hall has him pulling away from the painting and slipping off into the night. 

You run into the strange gentleman again in the castle gardens situated just to the side of the towering edifice. Since Lara’s pacing in her room trying to figure out what went wrong with your travel plans, you decided to go for a walk instead of sitting around doing nothing.

You’re looking at one of the dead withered trees off to the side, debating if sitting on the bench here is safe from any falling branches when that low smoky tone speaks behind you. 

“There’s a certain slant of light, On winter afternoons, that oppresses, like the heft of cathedral tunes.”

You squash your urge to jump in place and spin around to face him. He’s no less devastatingly pretty in the weak winter sunlight. 

“Good afternoon to you, too,” you smile, enjoying the weirdness he exudes, “and what a conversation starter, might I add.”

He meets your smile with his own little grin, “Somber poetry for a somber day.”

You giggle, “Guess so.”

He gestures and you sit on the bench as he takes a seat next to you. 

“Here on vacation?” You kick at a loose rock with your booted foot.

“You could say I’m here for leisure,” he muses, blue eyes taking in every nuance of you. 

You tilt your head to look at him, “Oh I could, huh?”

Laughing, you straighten up, hands fiddling with the clasp on your jacket, “Well, I’m also here for leisure. Even though it’s kind of an accident.”

He raises an eyebrow and you continue, “It was a mix up and we ended up here. A vacation, just not in the right place.”

“How fortunate am I,” he smirks and you feel heat blaze in your chest, eyes dropping to look down at your jacket. 

You tug on the zipper, catching your finger in the teeth with a hiss. It snags a bit of skin as you jerk it free, blood beading on your fingertip.

His features are serious as he takes your hand in his, “You must see to it so it doesn’t become infected.”

You nod, touched at his concern, “I have some alcohol swabs and bandaids up in my room.”

He brings your hand closer and you get the wild idea he means to suck your finger into his mouth, but he only kisses the back of your hand as he pulls a handkerchief from his pocket, a light gray fabric that looks like it costs more than your entire wardrobe. You catch his initials, L.S.K., monogrammed in black on the edge. 

“Thank you,” you murmur, feeling flushed in the cool afternoon air as you clasp the handkerchief to your finger. 

“My pleasure. Shall I escort you back to your room, miss?”

Lips parting, you take in his pinched features as he stares at your hand before nodding again, “Yes, please.”

His eyes snap up and he smiles, relief spreading across his face, “Good, good.”

Once you’re both standing, he snags your elbow with his fingers and gently guides you along. Since he’s much closer than before and you’re not sniffling from the cold air, you catch a strong smell of cedar and cloves that nearly makes you swoon. 

“Are you okay?” He stops, grip firming up on your bicep to tug you closer making the smell even stronger. 

“‘m okay,” you murmur, eyes drooping as you slump against his chest, “just smell good.”

You feel him laugh and the low baritone makes your cunt throb so hard you whine into his jacket. 

“Maybe moving from the cold into the warmth has made you dizzy,” he says kindly, “come, let me help you to your room.”

Completely unsure as to what’s happening to you, you let him lead you back to your room. Your legs don’t seem to want to move the way you want to and the more you breathe in whatever cologne he’s wearing, the more slick drips from your pussy into the gusset of your panties to the point you’re soaked between your thighs. 

He murmurs low platitudes in your ear that just makes everything better worse, so by the time you make it back to your room and he eases you down into your bed, you’re asking him to stay. 

“No. You’ll thank me later,” he soothes, pulling off your winter boots and tucking you under the covers. 

“Please,” tears prick your waterline, emotions and hormones all over the place. 

His lips thin and he runs a hand through his white hair, strands ruffled when he clasps your hands together, “Just close your eyes. I’ll stay here.”

Dropping to the floor, he kneels alongside your bed, keeping your hands together. Struggling to keep your eyes open, you just know he won’t be there when you wake up and some part of you hates that idea. 

“Didn’t think it would affect you like this,” he murmurs as you drift off. 

With a small shift, he moves forward and pulls the pricked finger into his mouth. His hot tongue lashing against the digit is the last thing your mind holds onto before it slips away like sand in the tide. 

When you come to, it’s dark outside and Lara is shaking your shoulder. 

“Finally,” she huffs, brows pinched, “thought I was gonna have to take you to a doctor or something. You good?”

You squint at her but can’t remember anything but the stranger you met helping you back inside from the cold. The rest is a cloudy blank in your mind. 

“Yeah, just tired I guess,” you raise up, pushing the blankets away to swing your feet out of bed, “what’s up?” 

As you shift, you notice a small square cloth and a bolt of memory, of sitting on the bench with that man, makes your eyes widen. You pick up the handkerchief and tuck it into your pocket. 

She smiles weakly, “Kinda stuck here a few more days then we’ll just fly back home in time for Christmas.”

You frown, an uncomfortable sadness pinging in your chest, “Oh? That’s fine. I like it here, so it’s not like it’s a hardship.”

Lara laughs, “Maybe for you. I’m ready to be somewhere that has pizza delivery.”

You grin, “Fair enough,” you push her shoulder, “well, when do we plan on leaving?”

“Two days is what my travel agent says,” she looks down at her phone, “that was the nearest opening since it’s the busy season and plus a storm is coming in tonight.”

“Ahh,” you nod along, “plenty of time to sightsee then.”

She giggles at your teasing and stands up from the bed, “I just wanted to let you know. It’s kinda late but the kitchen’s still open if you wanna grab something. I’m honestly exhausted from being on the phone all day so I’m gonna crash.”

“Hang on!”

You throw on some shoes and meet her at the door, “I’ll walk you to your room and head down to grab some food. You sure you don’t want anything?”

“Nah,” she shakes her head, “I had something earlier since I thought you’d eaten. You sure you’re feeling okay, though?”

“Mmhmm,” you smile, pausing outside her door, “promise.”

She returns your smile, “Okay, goodnight then.”

“Night!”

The door snaps shut behind you as you walk away, heading to the staircase and down to the restaurant. You take your time, stopping to look at various paintings on the way down, even pausing in front of a suit of armor to peer into the empty helm. 

“Expecting a skeleton?”

You jump backwards, nearly tripping as you stumble into the firm chest behind you. 

Righting yourself, you feel hot all over in embarrassment as you meet your strange acquaintance for the second time today. 

“U-uh, hi,” you feel jittery with nerves, like a new crush, “thank you for today by the way. I don’t know how I got into my room, but I’m guessing you helped?”

His brows raise in surprise, but it’s quickly replaced by a warm smile that makes butterflies flutter in your chest, “Yes, you weren’t feeling well. Dizzy from the temperature change.”

You take a half step back, leaving more distance between you two. 

“Well, thank you,” you clear your throat, “uh, I was going down for a late dinner, do you want to join me?”

A sly grin crosses his features making you nervous, “I’d be delighted although I’ve already.. eaten this evening.”

“O-oh okay,” you stumble over your words as you turn to walk down the stairs, “anything you’d recommend?”

A sharp bark of laughter escapes him as he walks alongside you, “No, nothing I’d recommend. Although I’ve heard their special today is excellent.”

Surprised at his outburst, your brows furrow as you smile in confusion, “If you say so.”

You lapse into a comfortable silence as you both make the walk to the dining room. There’s just something about him that draws you in like a moth to a flame. At first you just thought it was his strange mannerisms, but in the short span of time that you’ve spent together you just feel connected on some hidden level that you’ve only just discovered. 

Dinner is a quiet affair; the strange man, who you still don’t know the name of, joins you for your meal. He makes small talk about the local area in which he’s well informed about, no surprise. After you’ve finished your meal, he offers to take you out for an after dinner stroll around the castle before bed. 

Not wanting to leave his company just yet, you readily agree and let him lead you around the place. It’s as he’s guiding you down a long L shaped hallway filled with more paintings that a chill runs down your spine and he freezes in place, half turning to shield you from the person who seems to materialize in front of you two. 

“Hello, Leon,” a silky voice purrs as a beautiful woman steps into view. 

She’s beautiful and ethereal in a way that’s almost terrifying, much like the mysterious gentleman half blocking your view; Leon she called him. 

“What a lovely surprise,” she steps closer, form appearing to ripple in the dappled moonlight streaming from the windows. 

“Ada, how can I be of service?” His polite tone’s cold and to the point, even as he pushes you further behind him. 

“Aww, don’t be like that,” she lilts, voice playful and coaxing, “I’ve already seen your pretty playmate. Is she a new friend?”

You blink and the dark haired woman is standing next to you, Leon twisting uncomfortably to turn around. 

She twirls a strand of your hair with a manicured nail, “I won’t bite. Unless she asks,” she winks at you and your eyes widen in surprise.

“She’s new, yes. A visitor,” Leon’s hand reaches out to grasp your hip, tugging you into his side, “so don’t play games.”

“Games?” She laughs, eyes bright, “are you still sore that I stole Claire away?” she pouts at him, “she wasn’t your one, so why are you still upset?”

You watch all of this with rapt attention and so much confusion. 

He scowls at her, eyes darkening as he straightens his stance, “It doesn’t matter if she was the right one or not, you stole her away from me.”

She laughs outright at that, side stepping away from you and closer to him, “Can’t steal someone if they want to be taken, right, Leon?”

He deflates a little, gaze flitting to you and back to her, “What do you want now?”

“To bother you,” she smiles over at you and you notice her incisors are longer than normal, “since I’m just passing through, thought I would say hello to an old friend.”

They stare at each other for a beat longer than what’s comfortable before she sighs melodramatically. 

“As much as I would love to stay, and believe me I want to so very badly,” she blows a kiss at Leon as she walks backwards to the far end of the gallery, “I do have unfinished business nearby that I must take care of. Ciao!”

It’s so quiet after she leaves that the ringing in your ears sounds abnormally loud. 

Leon clears his throat and gives you an apologetic smile, “I’m very sorry about all of that.”

You wave your hands, “No worries. It’s not really my business, y’know.”

He winces at that and you scrunch your nose, internally cringing at yourself. It’s a somber feeling as he quietly leads you back to your room. 

Pausing at the threshold, you reach out and snag the sleeve of his shirt. 

“Hey,” you murmur, dropping your gaze to the fabric you’ve pinched between your fingers, “you wanna meet up tomorrow?”

He frowns although you don’t see it and slowly tugs his arm loose, “I don’t know.”

Whatever feeling that has been building in your chest feels like a punctured balloon at his flippant tone. 

“Oh,” you drop his shirt like it burns, willing the tears away at least until you can shut the door, “I-I didn’t mean to— nevermind. Kinda silly of me. Hopefully I’ll see you before we leave.”

His fingers circle around your wrist tightly, holding you in place, “You’re leaving?”

You level him with a flat stare, “Of course. We’re only here for a couple more days. So if you’ll excuse—“

He presses forward, pushing you through the doorway to follow after, letting the door swing shut behind you both. 

“Let go of me,” you twist your arm but Leon doesn’t budge. 

A concentrated look arrests his features, blue eyes skimming down your body and back up to your face. 

“Leon,” you bite out sharply, making him draw up short, “that’s your name, right?”

“Yes,” his eyes look wild as he lets go of your wrist to grasp both of your hands with his own, “yes, my name is Leon. Leon Kennedy. I’m sorry, this isn’t quite how I wanted things to go.”

You finally pull your arm away, “I’d like it if you left. I’m really confused and you’re acting strange.”

He looks at you so sadly it makes your chest hurt, “Can I show you something? I’ll leave you alone after that if that's what you’d like.”

Pursing your lips, you squint at him until you finally nod, “Alright.”

His shoulders sag and he walks back over to the door. Holding it open, he waits until you cross the threshold before stepping back in front of you. You make the short walk to the painting down the hall from your door when Leon pauses. 

You look at the painting then to his serious face with raised brows.

“You’re showing me this again?” Confusion colors your tone, “am I missing something?”

“Have you read the name underneath?”

Shaking your head no, you step forward to read the small gold plate underneath. 

“Claire Kennedy née Redfield,” you murmur to yourself. 

Claire? That mysterious woman mentioned her name earlier. The one Leon said she stole away. The correlation is there but you feel like you’re missing a huge part of the puzzle to actually end up at the correct explanation. 

You turn to Leon, “So is this the Claire you were talking about?”

He nods, eyes heavy and sad as he flits his gaze between you and the painting, “Yes. It was a political marriage. We were friends before everything happened.”

“Ookay,” you frown again, “so she ran off with her girlfriend?”

He flinches at that, “My other wife.”

You feel floored, “Wait, what?!”

Rubbing your forehead, you’re getting a pain behind your left eye from trying to parse it all together. 

“So, your new wife ran off with your then current wife? Am I getting that right? How long ago was this, Leon?”

He gestures a little wildly at the plaque, “You didn’t see the year?”

Squinting, you lean forward and can make out circa 1849. 

“Fuck off,” you blurt out, leaning back and taking a half step away, “what kinda joke is this?”

“I wait my whole life to bite the right one,” he mutters to himself, hand raking through his parted hair, “that’s not to say I didn’t mess up a couple of times before.”

You take another step back, away from Leon, “What do you mean?”

His eyes snap over to you and you freeze in place. Everything about him seems to be amplified to ten now, he’s exuding an energy that makes the hair on your arms stand up. 

“You’re the one,” he steps up until he’s in your personal space, “Ada and Claire were accidents. I didn’t realize that there’s only one compatible partner for me.”  

“Compatible partner?” voice pitching high, “you sound crazy right now.”

His brows lower, “You feel it too, little miss. It’s why you passed out earlier. Blood calls to blood.”

You’re hit with a wall of need so crippling your legs give out making you come down hard on your knees. 

“I’ve been shielding you,” he murmurs, kneeling in front of you, hands reaching out to brush across your jaw and neck, “it’s a lot to take in, I know.”

Gasping in deep breaths, you’re overwhelmed with the scent of cedar and cloves from earlier. You don’t know how you forgot that smell but now it’s all you can concentrate on; your head goes fuzzy as arousal sweeps through your body. 

“What is this?” you slur, eyes hazy as you slump forward into Leon’s shoulder, “what did you do t’me?”

“Nothing,” he soothes, petting down your back, “it’s just the effect of the compatibility. I can’t explain it; I just instinctively know it’s right.”

Reaching out, your hands weakly clasp at his shirt, “I don’t understand.”

“It’s okay,” he coos, “let me take you to my room.”

Not able to argue against him, he easily lifts you into a bridal carry. He uses one hand to block your eyes and you feel cold wind before he removes his palm and you see you’re in a room three times the size of your own. Leon eases you down onto an absurdly luxurious bed, sheer drapes lost to the shadows of the ceiling. 

Once he steps away, leaving a sizable gap between you both, the dizziness subsides and your thoughts aren’t as fleeting. 

“What the fuck?” you whisper, hands shakily brushing wisps of your hair back from your face, “what the ever loving fuck? Am I losing my mind?”

Your eyes quickly dart around, taking in the opulate furnishings and huge windows overlooking the cliff side, showcasing you now must be on the upper level of the castle. Your gaze lands on a time worn painting off to the side of Leon and his first wife, the dark haired beauty he called Ada. Next to it is another portrait of his second wife, Claire, yet another beautiful woman with red hair. 

Leon’s hands ball into fists at his sides as he takes in a deep breath, “It’s not as bad as it seems.”

“Leon, what’s going on?” Your voice breaks, mind struggling to keep up with what’s happening to you. 

“My first wife,” he points to the older portrait, “we were human at the time.”

“At the time?” You squeak out.

He hums, eyes flashing in the low light, “Yes. Then the change occurred to me after getting lost on a hunting trip. When I returned, I offered it to her but she refused,” he tilts his head up and shields his eyes with a hand, “and I made her like me anyways. She was my wife. Our vows were to be together in sickness and in health. She didn’t see it that way.”

You watch as he shakes his head and pinches the bridge of his nose, stepping to the portrait with his fingers outstretched but never outright touching the canvas. 

“She said it was til death do us part but I thought she was my one,” he sighs sorrowfully, “so I changed her and she loathed me. She eventually left one night never to come back. I didn’t chase after her, resigned to her resentment. I didn’t hear from her for hundreds of years. Then Claire came along.”

Your eyes jump from Ada to the smiling redhead in the other portrait. 

“Her brother needed her to marry someone with an upstanding background; someone with title and lands to trade,” he smiles bitterly at you, “I posed as my own great great nephew and set up the marriage. We became friends through our letters and when we wed it was wonderful. I kept what I was from her for as long as possible.”

He steps over to you and you flinch making his eyes droop in pain. 

“She figured it out quickly, such a smart woman,” he smiles crookedly, “I loved her dearly, but she wasn’t enough either. I changed her thinking that this is it, but it wasn’t. She wasn’t the one either. Ada came soon after and easily whisked her away from me.”

He sighs forlornly. Your lips part but you change your mind and refrain from saying anything. 

“Claire’s brother even convinced Ada to change him so he could defend her honor against me,” he blows out a short breath, “letting you know in case he shows up to be the gallant hero.”

“Leon,” you murmur, at a complete loss for words. 

“We all understand each other now and they’re happy where they are,” he laughs derisively at himself, “and I’ve lived alone here, running this place through a shell company hoping against hope for just one more chance.”

“This is insane,” you finally say to him, “you’re telling me you’re a vampire and I’m beholden to you? And on top of that you practically have a coven. This is impossible.”

“But you feel the pull, too,” his voice dips into that low smoky tenor, “you’re the one. You are to be my new bride.”

Your laugh startles you both, but you can’t stop the manic giggles once they start. Once the mania seems to pass and with it your hysterical laughter, you finally get yourself under control and clear your throat. 

“Prove it,” you tell him seriously, heart beating so fast your sure he can hear it, “let me see this vampire side of yours and if I believe you, if you convince me, then I’ll be your bride.”

His smile lights up his whole face making your breath catch.

“That’s easily done.”

He stands directly in front of you and that strange energy fills the room; you watch in complete astonishment as he looks like he dissolves until there’s only mist floating in the air. It drifts languidly past you and you feel the bed dip with body weight. 

His hot breath caresses your ear, “Is that enough, little bride?”

A full body shudder hits you as he kisses across your neck, the sharp prick of fangs dragging across your skin. 

“Let me bite you,” he whispers sweetly, “let me show you how deep our bond truly is.”

Feeling completely off centered, you breathe out one word without thinking, going with only what feels right.

“Yes.”

His teeth sink into the side of your neck and you cum, slick filling your panties until you’re sure it’s dripping down your thighs. It feels like a typhoon of emotions rains down through your body, pleasure so strong your eyes sting; then, it’s swept through to be quickly replaced by a feeling of home so deeply connected to the man behind you you could openly weep. It’s like a puzzle piece slotting into place somewhere in your chest. 

Moaning, your hands scratch at the bedding and he hums against your skin. Pulling away with a low groan, he runs his tongue over the puncture marks. 

“So good,” he mouths against your jaw, “let me mark you again.”

Whimpering, you lean back against him as he sinks his teeth into a new spot, softly sucking blood from the wound. His hands slip around your waist to pull you into the V of his thighs. You choke out a whine as your cunt throbs, on the verge of another orgasm and he hasn’t even touched you intimately aside from his teeth in your neck. 

“Leon,” you keen, one hand reaching over your head to tangle in his soft, snowy hair.

Chillbumps race down your body when he finally pulls away to place a soft kiss on the bite. He sucks at the tender skin making you mewl longingly until he pulls away with a sigh. 

“Let me taste that sweet little pussy,” he purrs in your ear, “I have been dreaming of biting your thighs and kissing your cunt til you can’t take anymore.”

Tugging his hair harder, you whimper and nod your head, “Please, Leon.”

The scent of cedar comes across stronger as he kisses your neck one last time before shifting you both until you’re laying back on his bed. He strokes his hands all down your body, eyes drinking in your expressions.

“You’ve been driving me crazy this entire time,” he slowly undresses you, scraping his sharp incisors against the skin he reveals, “smell so good, so sweet. Makes my mouth water.”

You whimper while watching as he unbuttons your jeans and works them and your panties off of your legs. He groans to see the slick mess between your thighs, cunt glistening with your arousal. 

“Look at you,” he breathes out, blown out pupils flicking up to your own dazed eyes. 

Wasting no time, he lays down between your spread legs and kisses the top of your pussy, ignoring where you most want his mouth. He drags his lips down and then buries his face in your cunt, spreading your lips apart with his tongue as he licks all over your pussy. Grunting, he shoves his tongue into your hole to spear you open on the thick muscle. 

“Leon,” you whisper down to him, feeling so turned on you can’t think straight. 

He groans and pulls back, “Don’t worry, I’ll take care of you.”

With a sigh, you relax against the sheets only to jolt as your pussy throbs when he bites you at the crease where your cunt meets your thigh. 

Crying out softly, your head thrashes against his bed as he repeats it on the other side. 

“I know, but bear with me,” he murmurs, blood coating his mouth as he lovingly kisses the puncture wounds, “doing so well.”

You splay back out against his sheets as he buries his face between your thighs again. He keeps your legs spread as he slowly kisses and sucks at your cunt, like he’s never tasted anything better in his life. Everything’s sensitive and on the verge of too much, but you wouldn’t dream of asking him to stop. That slow syrupy pleasure that’s made your thoughts honey thick is more than welcome. 

He laps along the seam of your pussy lips until he glides the tip of his tongue up to the hood of your clit. Leon circles the pudgy bud all slow and soft, tongue dipping down to flutter inside your soaked hole. Groaning at the slick flooding his mouth, he laps at your cunt with long broad strokes of his tongue. He pulls back to suck on your pussy lips before kissing across to your thigh and sinking those sharp fangs into your supple skin. 

Your back arches, a low whine spilling from your kiss bitten lips. He kisses and sucks the bitemark until it's ugly and irritated, then drags his lips back to your cunt, kissing your mound softly.  He makes out with your pussy with hot and bloody open mouthed kisses, spit drenching your swollen clit as you moan loudly. 

Your orgasm builds higher and higher until it’s a tight band ready to snap in your lower belly. Leon senses you getting closer from your body spasming and your voice gaining in volume as he greedily eats your cunt, hungry eyes watching you from between your legs. 

With a low keening groan rumbling from deep in his chest, he sinks his fangs into your fat pussy lips as he fucks his tongue into your clenching hole. That pinprick of pain flooded by intense pleasure is enough to push you completely over the edge. Wailing, your spine bows as your climax floods through your body, cunt pulsing and gushing slick as your toes curl in the sheets. 

Almost growling into your pussy, Leon flutters his tongue into your hole, lapping up all the slick dripping from your cunt, tongue loudly squelching in and out of your clenching walls. 

He finally pulls away with a low moan of pleasure, lower jaw coated with slick and blood. 

“So good for me, little bride,” he slinks up your body, joints moving unnaturally but you're hardly able to think past the pleasure buzzing in your brain, “going to make you mine, keep you forever.”

 Humming, you tangle your fingers in his hair and pull him down into the messiest kiss of the night. He almost snarls into your kisses as he gets rougher, tongue and teeth dominating your mouth, a bruising pressure on your lips. 

“Promise me you’ll stay,” he demands, eyes flashing at you as he presses you down harder into the mattress, “stay with me, be mine.”

You softly brush back his hair, voice soothing as you reply, “I promise, Leon. I’m all yours. I’ll be your new bride.”

He nuzzles his face into your neck before sinking those deliciously sharp teeth into you again. Weakly moaning, your eyes roll back as your clit throbs in time with your heartbeat. You feel him shudder when he pulls away to kiss the sluggishly bleeding marks.

“My bride,” he sighs, dragging his pouty lips across your jaw, nose tracing your skin, “you promise to give me all that you are.. all that you will be.”

“Promise,” you gasp out as his hand sneaks down to tease across your clit, cunt soaking the sheets further with fresh slick, “promise, Leon.”

He kisses you then, the hot copper tang of blood flavoring his sweet sentiment. You’re swept under another tide of arousal from his messy lips and tongue while his fingers play with your pudgy clit. 

He shifts until he’s next to you, blood smeared mouth parted as his eyes trail down your body. Gripping your hip, he helps turn your body to face him, leaving you both lying on your sides. Your hands reach out to trail down his chest just now noticing that he’s still dressed.

“No fair,” you tease, tugging on the silky  material.

He laughs softly, bringing your hand up to kiss your inner wrist before scraping his fangs across the sensitive skin making you shiver. Letting go of your hand, he quickly undresses, dropping his clothes off the side of the bed in a heap. You bite your lip, taking in the long lean lines of his body, eyes widening to see his thick cock filled out and resting against his thigh. 

“Leon,” you breathe out, wide eyes tracking back up to his pale blue ones. 

This time your hands lightly scratch along his pecs to his twitching abdominal muscles, nails barely scratch the soft thatch of hair above his hard cock. 

“You can touch me, liebling,” his lips quirk up into a half smile, “I only bite a little.”

A giggle slips out and your hand grasps the base of his dick and squeezes earning a low groan from the handsome man next to you. 

“Stroke me, tease me, do whatever you wish,” he murmurs, hands coming up to cup your breasts, “I’ll enjoy it all.”

You whimper as his long fingers dig into the soft flesh of your breasts, thumbs rubbing circles across your stiff nipples.

While one of your hands teases the head of his dick, you slide the other one to cup his balls making his cock kick, blurting precum onto your fingers.

“It’s so sticky,” you murmur unthinkingly, smearing the precum around his tip making it slippery for your fingers to rub across. 

He groans loudly, bucking his hips and sliding his cock through your fingers in a clumsy effort to fuck your loose fist. 

“And these are so sensitive,” his low tone razes goosebumps as he tweaks and pinches your nipples until you’re rubbing your thighs together. 

“Leon,” you moan, arching your back to press your breasts more firmly into his hands. 

“I haven’t had a chance to taste these,” he purrs, ducking his head to nip your chest.

“Please,” you tighten your hand around his cock and pump your fist, “bite me.”

He presses closer against you, hands pushing your breasts up as he dips his head down. Kissing the stiff peak, he licks around the puckered skin close to your nipple. 

“Smell so good,” he mumbles, kissing your nipple softly before sucking it into his mouth. 

He rolls his tongue around the hard bud before pulling away with a soft pop. He drags his lips down to suck on the skin underneath your breast before opening his mouth and biting deep into the tender flesh. 

“Oh god,” you cry out, body writhing so much Leon has to use one hand to grip your ribcage tightly to keep you still. 

You're too out of it to jerk him off, hands instead moving to grab onto his hips. He pulls away with a gasp only to sink his bloody teeth into the soft fat of your other breast. Your cunt is a drippy mess by the time he pulls away the second time, tongue sucking the blood off his fangs as his eyes seem to shine with unnatural light. 

“The finest of wines,” he smiles at you, licking his lips slowly. 

Your cunt throbs and aches, walls fluttering around nothing—feeling empty and needy. 

“Leon,” you grab his hand and guide it to your soaked cunt, “please, I want you.”

“Oh my beautiful bride, so wet and ready for me,” he hisses, easily sinking two fingers knuckle deep into your clenching pussy.

Your hands move from his hips to dig into his shoulders making him grind his fingers deeper into your aching cunt. He pulls them halfway out before thrusting them back in, the flat of his palm smacking against your swollen clit. 

Nails digging deeper into his skin, you rock your hips in time with his hand, whining and moaning as he fingerfucks your pussy rough and deep. 

“Such a sweet little wife I have,” he kisses your ear as your eyes struggle to stay open, cunt clamping down on his fingers from the endearment. 

He drags his cock against your thigh, smearing precum against your skin to mix with the slick dripping from your pussy. 

“I want to be inside you,” he whispers hotly against your lips, “I want to be buried deep in my bride’s pussy as I drink from her pleasured body.”

“Yes, yes, yes,” you chant, throat dry from all your gasping and panting, “I need you inside me, Leon. Please.”

He pulls his fingers out slowly making you  whimper once your cunt’s empty again. Leon shushes you gently, gripping his cock in one hand while his other grabs your thigh and wraps it over his waist. Rubbing the fat head of dick up and down your slit, he teases his cock across your hole before using the tip to part your pussy lips and rub across your sensitive clit.

You rock your hips forward and he kisses your neck, tongue lapping at the marks he left. Moving his cock back down, he slowly presses his dick into your leaking hole. 

“So tight,” he murmurs, praise lacing his tone and making you hump down onto his cock.

He lets you work your wet cunt on his dick until he’s buried fully inside your pulsing heat. 

“Needed this,” he groans, rutting his cock slowly in and out of your pussy, “needed to be inside of you, a part of you.”

Pleasure washes over you like the tide meeting the shore. Leon’s cock grinds against the spongy spot at the front of your cunt making you ooze slick until it’s dripping down his balls, leaving a creamy ring around the base of his dick. 

With a small shift, he rolls you completely over onto your back, body weight pressing you down into the mattress as he fucks in deeper inside your fluttering pussy. His pelvis grinds down onto your pudgy clit sending little bolts of desire throughout your whole body. 

“Leon, so good,” you whimper, fingers grasping at his biceps, hips rolling forward to keep his dick inside you, leaking tip pressed against your cervix. 

“Taking me so well, a perfect fit,” he kisses you gently, sucking your tongue into his mouth, teeth nicking the muscle causing blood to flavor your kisses. 

Moaning hungrily, Leon gets rougher, mouth pressing against yours so tightly your teeth ache. A high keening cry slips out between the bruising press of Leon’s lips against yours. Pulling away, he growls and drags his mouth to your neck, lathing his tongue against the multitude of wounds he left earlier. 

“So tight around me, are you getting close, little love?” He chuckles and teases your neck with his teeth making you keen and squirm against him. 

“Yes, please, ‘m close,” you moan, legs coming up to wrap tightly around his waist, “w’nna cum, wanna feel you inside me.”

Leon hums and swivels his hips, rutting his cock into your cunt without pulling out until you’re clawing at his back with short choked off whines. He grinds against your clit until your eyes roll back into your head. 

His teeth sink into your neck one last time, pushing you over the edge for the second time as your orgasm crashes through your body. Crying out, your arms and legs lock around Leon’s body, head thrown back as your cunt clenches around his dick. 

“So lovely,” he pulls back, licking the blood away from your neck, “my perfect bride.” 

He rabbits his hips into your squelching cunt until finally stilling, cock buried balls deep inside your spasming pussy as you milk his throbbing dick. Your pussy walls flutter and clamp down around him as he spills hot and sticky inside your slick heat. 

“Beautiful,” he kisses your earlobe with a sigh, cock kicking inside your pussy as he finishes painting your walls white. 

Endorphins make you dizzy and bubbly, smiling up at Leon’s blood stained face as he gazes lovingly down at you. 

“My husband,” you murmur, lovesick and sweet, hands coming up to caress his face and he kisses each of your palms. 

“All yours,” he promises seriously, “there is a reason why all things are as they are.”

You laugh and smooth a thumb under his eye, “You’re so cute.”

He snorts a laugh, delighting you immensely, and settles down into the messy sheets before pulling you into his chest. 

With a soft kiss placed atop his heart, you snuggle into his body until he wraps his arms around you. The soft rise and fall of his chest lulls you to sleep. 

Talking to Lara the next day is surprisingly easy. You have the feeling Leon used some weird vampire energy on her since she seemed unusually chill about it. Promising you that she’ll keep in touch once she heads back home, you spend the few short hours she has left together before she leaves early for the airport. 

It’s sad to see her go, but with Leon’s steady presence next to you filling your senses with that wonderful smell of cloves and cedar, you have zero regret in staying. 

[allwaswell16]

A fic rec of fics that I think should be movies (that are not already movie AUs) as requested in this ask. If you enjoy the fics, please leave the kudos comments and kudos. You can find my other fic recs here. Happy reading!

—Louis/Harry—

✧ Darling, so it goes by @disgruntledkittenface

(E, 195k, royal au) Harry Styles is a world-famous actor at the height of his career but a personal low point when he meets His Serene Highness Prince Louis of Monaco by chance. 

✧ Love After the End of the World by @mercurial-madhouse

(E, 168k, dystopian au) When staying alive is already a constant battle, the deadliest weakness is to be in love. For Harry and Louis, finding each other sits on top of the endless list of What Else Could Go Wrong.

✧ Wild And Unruly by gloria_andrews / @gloriaandrews , @100percentsassy

(E, 123k, farm au) Harry is a cowboy sitting on the biggest oil reservoir in Wyoming, and Louis is the paralegal assigned to pressure him into selling his land.

✧ I'll Fly Away by @juliusschmidt

(E, 122k, small town) Harry and Louis grew up together in Lake County, Harry with his mom and stepdad in a tiny cottage on Edward’s Lake and Louis in his family’s farmhouse a few minutes down the road. But after high school, Louis stuck around and Harry did not

✧ Have Love, Will Travel by @kingsofeverything

(E, 97k, road trip au) Rather than spend the summer working at their desks, Louis and Harry are given the opportunity to crisscross the country together in a tiny camper, filming their adventures for a YouTube series.

✧ Flightless Bird by audreyhheart

(E, 97k, ballet au) AU where Louis Tomlinson is a principal dancer with The Royal Ballet. When his rival from ballet school, moody dance prodigy Harry Styles joins the company, old wounds are reopened and old passions reignited.

✧ Black with Autumn Rain by whimsicule

(T, 93k, magical realism)  Harry is a journalist, Louis has lots of secrets and the moors aren't exactly the ideal place to rekindle a lost romance.

✧ After Dark, After Light by QuickedWeen / @becomeawendybird

(E, 71k, historical) Harry Styles is the laird of Clan Edwards who is just trying to keep his clan afloat when they get word that the Mackenzies have been cutting a swath through the Midlands and beyond, and their sights are set on the northern Highlands next. In an attempt to garner extra protection for his clan, Harry sets out to mend his father's past wrongs and ally with their neighbors to the west, Clan Sutherland.

✧ this charade (was never going to last) by @scrunchyharry

(E, 68k, spy au) As if the whole ‘industrial spy’ business was not stressful enough, Harry found himself in a hatred-at-first-sight relationship with one of his new coworkers, Louis, a man intent on detesting Harry.

✧ Adore You by @isthatyoularry

(M, 66k, historical au) Against his wishes, Harry spends the holidays at his family’s summer estate, and is reluctantly pulled into a courtship he didn’t ask for. 

✧  Unveiled by @phdmama

(M, 60k, a/b/o) There are no robes. And not a single one of them is veiled.

✧  Old Photographs & Times I’ll Remember by @jaerie

(E, 54k, time travel au) A camera, a suitcase, and a relationship forged through time.

✧ Tied Down by HamPalpert / @ham-palpert

(E, 48k, crime au) The most interesting case in Liam and Niall's careers falls directly into their laps, courtesy of an epic fuck-up of one Harry Styles, partner to the almost-infamous drug dealer Louis Tomlinson. 

✧ That’s What I’m Here For by @taggiecb

(E, 46k, farm au) Louis needs help running his business but has no idea where to even start looking. Luckily for him his children know just the man for the job.

✧  Counterbalance by YesIsAWorld / @louandhazaf

(E, 44k, racing au) Harry Styles loves two things: teaching ballet and racing motorcycles. Those two worlds collide when his greatest rival on the track, Louis “Tommo” Tomlinson brings his tiny siblings to Harry’s class.

✧ The Haunting of Louis Tomlinson by @helloamhere

(T, 31k, ghost fic) Louis is a plucky Gothic Heroine, Harry is a Mournful Spirit, and Big Country Houses are full of mystery and suspense, as Big Country Houses ever are!

✧ I Am the Blinking Light by @dearmrsawyer

(G, 19k, ghost fic) There is a legend of a lighthouse far out to sea. It can’t be found on any map, and those who do find it never return. 

✧ No One Like You by myownspark / @myownsparknow

(M, 19k, historical) Where Liam and Niall are art historians discovering the truth about two nineteenth century painters on opposite sides of an artistic divide.

—Rare Pairs—

✧ Untamed Hearts by Layne Faire  / @laynefaire

(E, 68k, Zayn/Liam) In the end, though, it all came down to two meddling friends, a touch of Prince, a bit of Keats, and the moon over the ocean. Its a recipe for disaster. Or love. Probably love.

✧ We Used To Wait by sunsetmog / @magicalrocketships

(E, 56k, Louis/Nick Grimshaw) Louis has an accident, but nobody even knows he and Nick are going out.

[mermaidsirennikita]

Do you have any queer historical romance recs? Are there any upcoming 2024 queer historical romances that you’re excited for?

Absolutely, I have recs! As for 2024 books, I'm currently most looking forward to You Should Be So Lucky by Cat Sebastian, which is an m/m romance set, I believe in the 50s, set around the world of baseball.

I also just read A Sweet Sting of Salt by Rose Sutherland (out 4/9) which I SUPER recommend if you want a f/f romance set in the 1800s, with a touch of fantasy. It's about a prickly midwife who finds this mysterious woman in the middle of the night, literally about to give birth. She helps her, and her husband turns out to be a local fisherman. But... something isn't right... both with the husband, and with his wife's origins. And when the husband realizes the women are falling in love, he only becomes more possessive. I promise it's romantic and has an HEA and doesn't feature overwhelming sadness (there is domestic and sexual violence alluded to, but it's brief and off the page).

As for historicals otherwise...

M/M

We Could be So Good by Cat Sebastian--set in the same general era and space as the 2024 release, I think, about a pair of reporters slowly and sweetly falling in love, especially after they become roommates (and they were ROOMMATES).

The Secret Lives of Country Gentlemen by KJ Charles--about a guy who moves to the marshland after he becomes a baronet, and has to take care of his estranged father's family left behind. He finds out there is a crime family of smugglers controlling the area, and he rats on them after seeing something sus... But when he goes to testify, who's there to stop him but the guy who he used to anonymously hook up with! JOSS DOOMSDAY. Joss Doomsday is amazing I love him. Super sexy, funny, and definitely focused on a side of England you like, never see in historicals.

The Nobleman's Guide to Seducing a Scoundrel by KJ--the standalone followup to the last book. In this case, another title is inherited, and this time the lord's this gruff former soldier. His cousins or something contest his inheritance, and he hires this young, charismatic secretary (especially important because our lord has a hard time reading, which I felt was done in a really touching way). Anyway, the sexual tension boils over and they start hooking up on the low, but there's a SECRET. (Also, the lord is very like "I'M ABUSING MY BOSSLY POWER" while the secretary is like "I mean... abuse it some more.....")

Band Sinister by KJ Charles--kind of a queer sendup of gothics, this is about a young guy whose sister is like, always spying on their scandalous neighbors who hold orgies and shit for the sake of writing her novels. Then she breaks her leg and ends up laid up in the orgy house, and he rushes over like NO ORGIES FOR HER, but he realizes the group of friends is actually super cool, especially the verrrry siiiiiilky smoooooth one who's just soooooo suave. So good, and especially interesting in that, while I would definitely not call this a poly romance, it does explore the complexities of open relationships and polyamory.

The Queer Principles of Kit Webb by Cat Sebastian--Kit is a retired highwayman running a cafe, and suddenly this vERRRY pretty nobleman comes in flashing his very nice ankles and asking Kit to steal this mysterious book from his dad. Kit refuses, but agrees to teach Percy how to steal. Both are great, but omg PERCY is AMAZING. He's kind introduced as somewhat like... conventionally more on the femme side, but he's like a secret swordmaster, and also takes the lead with Kit sexually a lot. One of my favorite moments in this book is when he's blowing Kit and Kit thinks he's gone too deep and is like "SORRY" and Percy rolls his eyes and makes Kit grab his hair and start facefucking him lmao. Also has nice demi rep in Kit.

Something Fabulous by Alexis Hall--A frosty duke proposes to a woman he was always supposed to marry, and she subsequently goes on the run. He then has to pair up with her dramatic, fanciful twin brother. It's a really funny romcom, with a ridiculous duel that had me wheezing. Plus a semi-cultlike group of lesbians? Also, enthusiastic ass eating.

F/F

An Island Princess Starts a Scandal by Adriana Herrera--A cold vamp widow wants this business deal with a fun and flirty heiress, and the heiress agrees to make the deal... If the vamp agrees to show her LESBIAN PARIS. Hot, and both of the leads are Latina.

Mortal Follies by Alexis Hall--Adding this even though it definitely has a good dose of fantasy, because it's like... Jane Austen meets a Midsummer Night's Dream, with an emphasis on the fairies. This young deb ends up hexed so her dress is unraveling at a ball, and as she hurries into the pushes, she meets the mysterious Lady Duke, who's rumored to have murdered her brother and father. They begin this push and pull of seduction. It's both funny and kind of dramatic.

Trans/Nonbinary

Something Spectacular by Alexis Hall--the standalone followup to Something Fabulous. The runaway fiancee's ex, the genderfluid Peggy, is roped by said ex into attending an opera. The ex wants to seduce Orfeo, this gorgeous castrato soprano, and when they open their mouth to sing Peggy, who's very gruff and in control typically, faints. Orfeo is naturally like "WHO'S THAT" and begins pursuing Peggy rather than the ex. One of my favorite books, so funny (at one point they accidentally incite a gay orgy) with a hint of melancholy and great sex. Also, it has one of the most unique sex scenes I've ever read.

Unmasked by the Marquess by Cat Sebastian--a bisexual marquess makes a new friend in this young dandy in town. They kiss, and he thinks his friend is going to blackmail him... But the friend, Robin, turns out to be chamber maid in disguise! Except they're actually not a man or a woman, and don't want to live as a woman. It becomes as an FWB thing, but naturally our romantic hero falls in love and things become Fraught. Has one of my favorite "resentfully horny" moments, when Alistair is watching Robin from across the ballroom, and they pull a glove off with their teeth, and he's like "THAT IS IMPROPER" and wants to fuck them so bad.

A Lady for a Duke by Alexis Hall--Viola faked her death at Waterloo in order to live as her true self. Years later, she's pulled into helping her old best friend, the Duke of Gracewood, who's suffering from a chronic injury and severe depression following the battle. At first he doesn't recognize her... at first. Has an absolutely INCREDIBLE moment of recognition, and I really like that it's this romping old school type romance with a trans heroine.

Most Ardently by Gabe Cole Novoa--this one is actually a YA Pride and Prejudice retelling, highly recommend if you're open to it. In this case, the Lizzie character is actually Oliver, a trans boy, and he and Darcy fall in love--molly houses are included in this, which I really like. It's not super about historical accuracy, which I personally dgaf about, and it's very sweet and funny and warm. Also, the author is a trans man.

Queer Polyamory

Scandalous Passions by Nicola Davidson--FFM. A king's former mistress is sent away because the queen hates her, and is also asked to care for the king's ward. She and the ward begin to give in to their attraction, and at the same time their escort is this much-feared knight (who's really quite subby) who's been in love with the older heroine for years. And then he begins falling for the ward as well.... Super sexy medieval, with Dom/sub overtones.

Their Marchioness by Jess Michaels--A playwright is asked to a marquess and marchioness's home... Turns out he and the marchioness were in love before she was forced to marry the marquess. Fortunately, she and her husband are now very much in love, and he's basically gifting her a tryst with her old love for her birthday. Then he joins in... and it begins being more than sex. Has some bi awakening stuff.

M/F with Bi leads

The Perfect Crimes of Marian Hayes by Cat Sebastian--a standalone followup to Kit Webb. Percy's stepmother Marian is having a correspondence with a blackmailer, who unbeknownst to her is her odious husband's secret son. He ends up falling in love with her as they go back and forth with letters, so when she ends up in trouble and on the run, he comes to "save" her, only to find that Marian ain't that girl. Both leads are bi, and the sex is really cool and interesting because Marian doesn't like penetration due to trauma surrounding her pregnancy and labor. So she penetrates him (among other things) instead.

Hugo and The Maiden by S.M. LaViolette--a successful sex worker ends up being transported and washing ashore after a shipwreck. He's very snarky, but finds himself up against the vicar's uptight and uncompromising daughter--but he still has enemies lurking. Hugo is openly (for the day) bi and services both men and women. I really liked that even as he fell in love, his bisexuality wasn't like this background thing--he sees a guy he likes at one point and is basically like "if I wasn't taken......."

Any Duke in a Storm by Amalie Howard--a spy (who's also kind of a lady pirate) ends up being attracted to her super rakish and slutty first mate. She's bisexual, and one of the women on her ship is her former hookup (still her friend), which I like.

Melissa and The Vicar by S.M. LaViolette--a madame goes to a small village to recuperate and de-stress, and ends up falling in love with a virginal vicar she's so sure she can't have. Melissa is bisexual, and I thiiink a woman she used to be involved with is on the page? Her hero, Magnus, kind of has a "oh shit am I bi?" moment when Melissa tries to fake him out by pretending she's hooking up with Hugo. To be fair, everyone wants to fuck Hugo.

In Which Margo Halifax Earns Her Shocking Reputation--a scandalous woman begins chasing her sister (who ran off with a Bad Man) along with her brother's best friend, who's secretly in love with her. Margo is bi, and her relationships with women are one reason why she's considered scandalous~.

[uwmspeccoll]

Typography Tuesday

BLACKLETTER

Blackletter, also called Gothic, was the first typographic form to be founded in metal type by Johannes Gutenberg in the mid-fifteenth century. The first book printed in English was in blackletter, as was the first book printed in England (both by William Caxton; the first printed in Bruges in 1473, which was also the very first book printed in Bruges, and the latter in Westminster in 1476). It is called blackletter because its narrow, condensed forms produce a darker appearance on the page than do Roman fonts. By the late 16th century, most Western national printers had dropped blackletter in favor of the arguably more readable Roman-style fonts, except for some Scandinavian countries which held onto blackletter forms until the late 18th century, and Germany being the last holdout until 1941.

Blackletter fonts are still used today, however, as display faces, for ceremonial use, and for certain kinds of emphases. That’s certainly how Theodore Low De Vinne (1828-1914) would have used it at his De Vinne Press in New York. These examples come from Types of the De Vinne Press, published in New York by the De Vinne Press in 1907. Theodore De Vinne founded his press in 1883. He was also a co-founder of the prestigious Grolier Club and one of the leading commercial printers of his day, whose enterprise had a profound influence on American printing and typography. This book was intended as a promotional specimen book “for the use of compositors, proofreaders, and publishers,” to demonstrate the wide variety of typographic possibilities that could be available to their clients.

View more posts from Types of the De Vinne Press.

View more posts on Gothic/Blackletter type faces.

View more Typography Tuesday posts.

[hisinfernalmajesty666]

Self-Portrait with Death Playing the Fiddle d.1872 by Arnold Böcklin.

📍Alte Nationalgalerie, Berlin.

Arnold Böcklin was a Swiss painter of the Symbolism art movement. He studied at the Düsseldorf academy and in 1848 he was sent to the Low Countries to copy the works of Dutch masters and then to Paris to paint landscapes. By 1850, he moved to Rome which was an important catalyst for his works. Böcklin had his best period in the 1860s and beyond.

Symbolism was a late 19th century art movement which sought to represent absolute truths symbolically through metaphorical images. Symbolist subject matter is typically characterised by dream imagery, the occult, the morbid and death. It emerged primarily as a reaction against the Realism movement. Is is related to the gothic component of Romanticism as well as serving as the bridge between Romanticism and Modernism art at the beginning of the 20th century.

In this self-portrait, Böcklin pauses from his work as if sensing the skeleton playing the violin behind his shoulder. The single string in the violin suggests that Böcklin's time is running out, assuming all others have snapped and the artist is listening to the creeping sound of his own death. The final string is symbolic of the Fates of Greek mythology, who had the power to quickly kill mortals by cutting a thread.

Böcklin offers a reworking of the memento mori; popular since the Northern Renaissance. It also connects to the medieval tradition of danse macabre, which he would have been exposed to at home in Basel. The seminal meaning of this is that all people, no matter who they are must all eventually die. The painting highlights the gothic humour that became synonymous with his work. After all, Böcklin was a man who became antiquated with death, having lost his fiancé and five of his children with his eventual wife.

[lafemmemacabre]

I need normies to understand that a lot of subcultures don't derive their names in straightforward ways. Some do, like metalheads and rivetheads -- and even then most of you are... Extremely ignorant on it anyway. The amount of times I've had to explain to people that "emo" comes from "Emocore" which is a shortened version of "Emotional Hardcore Punk" is astounding -- but a lot of the time it's not like that.

Sure goths are labelled goths AND a lot of our subcultural sensitivities are derived from gothic literature and we think gothic architecture fucking rules but also? Neither the literature genre nor the architecture are where we got the name from.

We got the name through an internal joke between artists that are now considered goth, about how Andi Sex Gang from Sex Gang Children was a ridiculous gothy troll too obsessed with the macabre who lived in a building literally called the Visigoth Towers, so if he was a goth, then his fans were goths too.

Even then, the label "goth" was a pejorative when it first spread and most of our iconic bands hated being called that because they associated "goth" with the tackier, less serious contemporary bands that they considered basically low brow campy horror fanservice for losers obsessed with old and bad horror movies (Specimen, Alien Sex Fiend, and so on) while they were Serious Musicians just going through a Tormented Artist phase. There's a reason why Dinah Cancer from 45 Grave (a campy, "low brow", horror fanservice band) embraced the goth label immediately (and still does), while many of her contemporaries from more "serious" bands didn't and to this day won't.

Now, going back to the lolita subculture:

Do Americans realize that American literature classics aren't classics everywhere? Each cultural region and even country has its own literature classics. I wasn't made to read Mark Twain or Hemingway in school because I'm Chilean. I was forced to read Don Quixote, some people were also forced to read El Mio Cid, I had to suffer through fucking Subterra. I had to read María Luisa Bombal, García Márquez, Marcela Paz, and many, many others. AND I'M SOMEONE FROM A CULTURE THAT SHARES AN ALPHABET WITH THE ANGLOPHONE WORLD. Chilean culture is also undeniably more directly impacted by American culture than Japan is.

Lolita, the book, wasn't that old by the time the lolita subculture started, I'm going to assume it wasn't that widely known in Japan since it was relatively new in the US itself, and Japan has its own literature to occupy itself with. Not that there's no translations or that Japanese people don't read Western literature, of course they do, I can also easily find translated copies of The Great Gatsby if I go to any mainstream bookshop in Santiago, but what I'm saying is that books that are ubiquitous in the US cultural landscape aren't necessarily so everywhere else, much less in diametrically opposed geo-cultural areas that are highly culturally isolated, AND there's cultural influences in other countries that ARE ubiquitous in those countries that foreigners have no clue about. If any piece of Western literature has been greatly influential in the lolita fashion subculture it wasn't Nabokov's Lolita, but Alice in Wonderland, in part because lolita fashion's whole point was escaping sexualization.

I think we're all aware that Japanese pop culture, especially in anime, has a lot of issues with the sexualization of children (not like that's a problem unique to Japan but, whatever), BUT I think it's also pretty fucking racist or at least orientalist to perceive any embracing of childish cuteness as inherently sexual and pedophilic or otherwise perverse as soon as it comes from Japan (especially when the fashion itself literally has you covered from head to toe AND WAS DESIGNED PRECISELY TO ESCAPE BEING SEXUALIZED BY MEN, BY YOUNG GIRLS, NOT BY PEDOPHILIC MEN OR GROWN WOMEN WHO WANTED TO APPEAL TO THEM).

Stop talking about shit you don't know anything about with authority, for the love of fuck.

[heartshapedcaskett]

Where my family is buried

[see-arcane]

So I've heard quite a bit about Richard "Em Dash" Marsh and his book The Beetle, but I've been quite curious: What elements about it are compelling? I refuse to read the book itself (made that mistake with... other gothic-based media (Damn you, Moore), so I was curious about your thoughts on it?

I think it's just the sheer amount of wasted opportunity for metaphor left laying around. Like, I know everyone likes to call it "Dracula but so much shittier," but I've always seen more resemblance to Kafka's "The Metamorphosis," and not just for the insect element.

The two characters we're introduced to as (mistaken) protagonist and antagonist are Robert Holt and the Beetle. Holt is a clerk who lost his job, applied everywhere after, followed all the rules he was taught to trust in, certain that society would naturally play as fairly with him...only to find himself homeless and starved and refused entrance even to a shelter because it was too full. He watches on in mingled surprise and envy as a fellow vagrant blithely breaks a window and waits to be arrested, thrown in jail for the sake of shelter from the rain.

Robert Holt does not throw a brick with him. Robert Holt is too shackled by his ingrained sense of If I Follow the Rules, If I am a Good Citizen, I Will be Helped.

He isn't. He walks away into the rain, still starving, still scraped off the edge of society, shooed like vermin. He reaches the Beetle's home with its window ajar. He slinks in.

And then is immediately preyed on by the Beetle, his free will suddenly ripped away, ordered to strip and walk and talk and die and live and rob and generally be violated on every mental and external level. He is literally so low as to be overpowered and stepped on by an insect.

But Holt isn't immune to his own (read: Marsh's) callousness. He refers to the Beetle, who is an Egyptian visitor here for revenge reasons, in some fairly ugly terms. How much we can shrug off as being a fear/disgust response versus being Conditioned to Other Anyone Not Anglo-Saxon Enough is up in the air in-universe.

The frustration here is that between this opening and the future cast members' rancid treatment of Holt, who tries to help and warn them, and of the Beetle, met with disdain simply for being a foreigner in England before one chitinous move can be made, there could have been SO MUCH to play with in terms of...

Human beings reduced to pests not worth dignity or care because they are Poor, they are Homeless, they are the Lowest Rung of Society, they are Foreign, they are Dirty and Different from What's White Right

The examination of in-fighting of 'verminous' people. Figurative insects living underfoot in supposedly civilized countries, now preying on and demeaning each other rather than extending the empathy they were never shown by polite*** society

Spotlighting the brutality and villainous aspects of our group of well-to-do "heroes", the main cast being mixed up in building genocidal weapons and plotting asylum stays for romantic rivals and hypocrisy and so many layers of bigotry it makes your eyes ache

A better version of the story in which the aforementioned genocidal weapon, a killer gas to be used on South America for some fucking reason, becomes the focus of the story--bonus points for the accidental 'bug spray' comparison to be made--with the potential of the Beetle and Holt switching tracks from singular vengeance and/or the desperate thwarting of this fruition; knowing that the existence of such a thing would be a prelude to 'dealing with the vermin problem' on a terrifying scale. Perhaps by making use of a new kind of 'shelter.' The insects become the heroes, the polished creme of England now turned to fertilizer.

...a better version that might have Holt ending the story with his own metamorphosis, but as a Gregor Samsa with actual strength and will of his own, and acceptance waiting for him on the other side of the change.

But no.

Richard Dickard Marsh couldn't be bothered to reach beyond squeezing out a Sydney Atherton-shaped turd onto the typewriter and calling it done.

It's so, so, SO goddamn infuriating as a storyteller to find the seeds for something that would have been amazing and groundbreaking, especially for its time period, only to see the whole thing salted and burned until all that's left is racist caricatures, a trashfire of a plot, and the most eye-watering syntax ever put to paper.

[puppuccinosworld]

Trying Sue's Makeup

Back to the old me when I was around 18-21. I was interested in gothic subculture back then in 2020 and tried gothic makeup a few times. However, that makeup wasn't my go-to look. This makeup is typical horror movie villain makeup, but Sue isn't the villain of the story. Instead, she's quite... loveable 🖤 I love Sue very much. Personality wise, she reminded me of myself when I just graduated highschool and took online classes during the pandemic.

I wish I could play as Sue if this story gets adapted into a movie/series. But I'm not a white person, I'm Asian.

I'm not Chinese btw. Guess which Asian country I came from

I love gothic makeup but I don't look really good in this because I have low visual weight. I look better in cute, girlish makeup, or natural makeup. In Chinese social media, people compare celebrity faces to flavors or animals. I took beauty tests on TT and I got salty type. Which means I look good in natural makeup. Other than that, I also look good in Soft Grunge Makeup. My makeup archetypes are Natural, Ingenue and Elegant, however I also look good in gamine makeup. My style essence is gamine btw.

[hannahssimblr]

Chapter Fourteen (Part 2)

When my phone buzzes in my pocket I feel a jolt of anxious nausea, but still, whip it out so quickly that it almost slips out of my gloved hand. I release my thumb to tap the screen, anticipating another message from Dean, but this time it isn’t him. 

It’s Jude. 

A weird half-laugh half-cry escapes me and my stomach flutters. The last person I ever thought would message me, as I fully expected to never have to hear from him again, but here he is, lighting up my phone on an ordinary Friday afternoon. Curiously I open the message. 

Thought you’d followed me to Berlin. 

He writes. Quickly followed by a photo of a girl standing ahead of him in a bakery. She has the same coat as I do, and the same hair cut and colour. She really does look like me. I watch the little dots bounce as he types another message.

Looks like you have a German doppelganger.

A smile quirks on my lips, I can’t help it, and then quickly I open my camera and point it up towards a corner of the Cathedral eaves where a horrible gothic gargoyle sits guard with its grotesque little mouth wide open in a silent scream. I giggle softly to myself as I zoom in on it. 

So weird. 

I type back, attaching the photo. 

Because I just saw your doppelganger too. 

I’m glad that there’s nobody around to see how self-satisfied I am, smiling at my own joke. 

Yikes, spitting image.  Still snowing, I see.

Relentlessly. 

So much for springtime. Weather in that country is so fucked. 

I frown. There he goes again with that “your country, that country” stuff. 

Wait, are you not Irish anymore? I remember you making a bit of a song and dance out of the ‘half’ part when I met you. 

Fair enough. Weather in OUR country is fucked. 

Ah yeah, that’s more of it now. Too late Jude, you’ve already disowned us. As a collective nation we’re devastated.

I smirk as I tease him, beginning to pace around, feeling charged with new energy, but then my heart leaps to my throat when my phone comes alive in my hand, buzzing with a phone call from him. I hit accept. 

“Hello?”

His voice comes down the line, deep and low in my ear. “Sorry, I just wanted to infer from your tone whether you’re annoyed or amused.”

I smirk. “Insecure, much?”

He laughs and I hear something crinkle on his end. “Well, alright, I knew you were amused, I just didn’t want to juggle eating my lunch with one hand and trying to text you with the other.”

“What did you get?”

“Hm?”

“In the bakery, like, what did you get for lunch?” 

“Oh, it’s like a multigrain bread roll thing. With cheese and salami.”

“Sounds nice.”

I hear him take a bite out of it. “Mhm. And for after I got this thing called a Puddingteilchen.”

“Sounds enticing.” I say, giggling at the goofy German accent he just put on.

“It’s essentially a vanilla pastry, they love things with gluten here, I try as many new foods as I can.”

“Mhm, how adventurous.”

“I’m in a very ‘trying-new-things’ phase at the moment. What did you have for lunch?”

“A flat white.” 

“Explains why you’re eating vicariously through me.”

I laugh. “Well if there were any food places open I might have gotten something more substantial, right now, honestly the caffeine is just making me feel jittery.”

“Oh no.” 

I walk out of the Christchurch grounds and start ambling back down Dame Street with the phone pressed to my ear. “I’m looking right now and there’s genuinely nothing to eat, I swear they’re treating this snowfall like it’s the apocalypse.”

“They always do that, don’t they?” He says, and then quickly corrects himself. “Oh, sorry, we always do that. We, the collective Irish people, a group to which I still very much belong and have not dissociated myself from now that I live abroad.” 

I roll my eyes and chuckle. “Okay, I get it. You think I’m dramatic.” 

“Never.”

“So what are you doing today? Do you have college?”

“On Fridays I only have classes in the morning, so actually, right now I’m about to go looking for a costume.”

“A costume? For what?” 

“This party I’m going to next month.” He says. “I’m looking for something from the eighties.”

“There’s an 80’s theme?”

“80’s movies, so like, specifically a character from a famous flick. I can’t just be some generic 80’s man. These people have strict rules.”

“Aha, so is this some kind of ticketed event?”

“No, it’s a house party.”

“Strict rules for a house party.”

“You have no idea.” He laughs and I hear him moving about, presumably getting up from wherever he had been sitting to begin walking around. I try to imagine where he might be, but having never been to Berlin it’s difficult to visualise the way that the streets might look. “My friends, the ones hosting the party, they do this all the time. There’s always a theme and you have to adhere to it directly otherwise you don’t get to come in.”

“Yikes.”

“I know, and really, I’m not a costume guy, at least I wasn’t. I showed up to the first party, which, by the way, was themed as ‘Wild West’, in jeans and a t-shirt. They asked me where my cowboy hat was and then closed the door in my face.” 

“Wow, that’s intense.”

“Yes, but it’s all in the name of creativity, I guess. Astrid likes going to them, actually, it’s where we met, so I try to make my best effort.”

His mention of Astrid makes me feel some kind of strange way, but I ignore my unsettlement. “So what are you thinking for this one?”

“Well, any ideas?”

“Hmmm… Marty McFly?” 

He laughs. “There will be at least three other Marty McFlys. Red puffer vest and blue jeans? Too easy.” 

“Well excuse me! You asked for a suggestion.”

“I was hoping for a good one.” 

“I forgot how sassy you are.”

“You missed that about me, I bet.”

“Did you assume I missed anything about you?” There’s a pause then, in which I instantly feel horrible, and the feeling only increases the longer he waits before saying anything. 

“Well-” He starts, but there seems to be a delay in the line as I end up cutting him off with my next panicked words. “So what idea did you have for a costume?”

He laughs in a somewhat self-conscious way, probably glad of the swerve. “Well I was thinking maybe Maverick from Top Gun.”

“Typical man choice.” I say immediately, which makes him laugh. “Sorry, is that too predictable for you?”

“I can see you doing that. Wearing your little bomber jacket and aviator shades, very hyper masculine. Men just love Tom Cruise.” 

“I am many things, but I don’t think I qualify as hyper masculine” He snorts. “Have you seen my cute little earrings?” 

“No, you’ve never once mentioned them.” 

“So I’m curious, what costume would you have picked if you were invited?” 

“Baby from Dirty Dancing.” I say immediately, because I’ve already been thinking about it for half this conversation. “I want to do that curly thing to my hair and see if it’d suit me.” I catch sight of my reflection while passing a stop window and pick out a strand of my limp, straight hair that has never seen texture beyond the loose waves that remain after I’ve taken my plaits out.

“It would. And the costume, would you go for the shirt and shorts or the pink dress from the ending?”

A smile twitches on my lips. “Sounds like you know Dirty Dancing pretty intimately.”

“A good movie is a good movie, I’m not embarrassed.” 

“I wasn’t suggesting you should be.”

“I can’t believe it, Evie.” He says with that easy laugh he always had. “You’re the very same as you used to be.” 

I baulk a little bit, because I don’t feel in any way the same as I used to back then, when every little thing I did would make me second guess myself, every word I spoke I’d agonise over, and now I don’t feel that easy as much. Now when I speak, people listen to what I say and seem to believe that I’m interesting, even if I don’t. The Evie I was back when he met me and the Evie I am now are nothing alike. “I’m not the same.”

“Well, I think that you are. You’re still so cheeky, you don’t let me get away with anything.”

“I don’t think I was like that back then.”

“What? Seriously?”

“No, I was just shy and awkward and self conscious all the time. I was a nightmare to be around.”

I hear him pause to consider this. “With all due respect, I probably wouldn’t have spent so much time with you if you were like that. You were shy, sure, but you were always funny.” 

“You thought I was funny?” 

“You don’t remember how much we used to laugh at everything?”

“Yes, but I felt like I was just laughing at the things you said because you were so funny.”

“I’m not that funny.” 

“Come on.”

“I’m not funny enough to carry an entire one of our conversations all by myself.” A pause. “You really don’t like that I’ve said that you’re the same, do you?”

“No.” I admit with some reluctance, glancing through the gates of George’s Street Arcade, all of the stalls chained and boarded up inside, seeing it so silent and empty for the first time. Eerie. 

“I’m sorry. You’re different too in loads of ways, I was just trying to say that the things I liked best about you are still intact, and I’m glad of it.”

“It’s okay, just sometimes I feel like I’m going crazy. I seem to remember things wrong a lot.”

“Mm?” He says encouragingly.

“Like, I dunno, it’s as though the way that I’ve stored things in my memory bank is different from how normal people do it. I tend to twist things to fit my own narrative, does that make sense?”

“Like what narrative?” 

“Like, I don’t know… like that I was a loser, or something.” My face gets hot despite the frigid air, and I feel I’m being too frank with him. He probably doesn’t care to hear it. “It doesn’t matter, I’m not really sure what I mean.”

“You were never a loser.” 

“That’s nice of you.” 

“I mean it! I always thought you were cool.” 

What on earth? I was never cool, especially not when I was seventeen, and I can’t help but scoff. 

He sighs. “Well, I’m not here to convince you. I’m just telling you what I thought, you can choose whether or not to believe me.”

“I don’t.”

“Damn, okay, well, you got me. You were the worst, and I hated hanging out with you.” Even though he’s clearly being sarcastic his words still kind of sting, as they reflect almost exactly what Kelly had said to me on Stephen’s night. Jude might not mean them, but someone else had. He seems to sense this and quickly backtracks. “Sorry, that was a stupid joke. Like I said, I’m not that funny.” 

“You are.” I say. “Actually, your whole thing is that you’re funny, but in a slightly mean way.” 

“So I have realised. You know I used to be really mean? Like when I was about fourteen, and I’ve always worried that the vibe stuck around. Did you think I had a mean boy vibe when we used to hang out?” 

Kind of, but I didn’t hate it.” I laugh through my nose, and my breath clouds in the air. “In fact I felt bad for liking it.”

“Who was I even mean to? I don’t remember.” He pauses and then adds, “Which I suppose goes to show how often I was a dickhead – I can’t even remember my own crimes.” 

“Liam.” I say.

“Oh yeah” He says remorsefully. “He probably didn’t deserve the shit he got. We were all mean to poor Liam. ”

“Speak for yourself, I was nice.”

“Oh come on, you were meanest of  us all.”

I scoff. “In what world?”

“Please, I didn’t reject his debs invitation and leave him destitute, crying on the beach in a wetsuit.”

“You’re created an entire false narrative here, he wasn’t crying.”

“Okay, sorry now, but there’s no scenario in my head in which he wasn’t. I just can’t imagine that. He was sobbing in my version of events.”

“Trust me Jude, he was fine. He drove away from me that day without shedding a single tear. Nobody was crying over me back then.”

The line goes quiet for a moment and for some reason my skin prickles like an icy wind has licked over me despite how I’ve warmed up from all of the walking. The silence only lasts for a beat and then his voice returns, bright and easy as ever. “So tell me, who did you end up taking to your debs in the end?”

“Oh God.” I breathe. “Where do I even begin with this? How much time do you have for the highlight reel of sixth year?”

“Lay it on me, Evie.” 

He keeps me company all the way back to my house, and doesn’t even hang up when he starts going in and out of shops in search of his Top Gun costume, giving me updates on what he’s finding, open to any and all suggestions I have about how to create his own patches that match the ones Tom wears in the film. I made him promise to send me a photo of the costume before he wears it out, and when he says he will I find myself actually believing him. 

I start feeling a little sad when I turn onto my street, knowing that I’ll have to hang up soon. We’ve been having so much fun and then… 

“Oh Jesus.” I say to myself as The front of my building comes into view, and I completely cut him off in the middle of a sentence. His voice comes back at me through her receiver, alarmed. “Did something just happen?”

“No, it’s fine, just, I have to go.”

“Okay well, call me back anyt-”

I hang up the phone and stuff it into my pocket as I march up the front steps to the apartment, feeling anger rising inside me.

“Dean!” I cry. He’s standing by the door, shoulder resting against the wall as though he’s been waiting there for a while, and he doesn’t look surprised to see me, fuming, charging up the steps towards him. “What the hell are you doing here?” 

Prev // Next

[truthdawn]

Bread is a staple food prepared from a dough of flour (usually wheat) and water, usually by baking. Throughout recorded history and around the world, it has been an important part of many cultures' diet. It is one of the oldest human-made foods, having been of significance since the dawn of agriculture, and plays an essential role in both religious rituals and secular culture.

Bread may be leavened by naturally occurring microbes (e.g. sourdough), chemicals (e.g. baking soda), industrially produced yeast, or high-pressure aeration, which creates the gas bubbles that fluff up bread. In many countries, commercial bread often contains additives to improve flavor, texture, color, shelf life, nutrition, and ease of production.

Etymology

The Old English word for bread was hlaf (hlaifs in Gothic: modern English loaf), which appears to be the oldest Teutonic name.[1] Old High German hleib[2] and modern German Laib derive from this Proto-Germanic word, which was borrowed into some Slavic (Czech: chléb, Polish: bochen chleba, Russian: khleb) and Finnic (Finnish: leipä, Estonian: leib) languages as well. The Middle and Modern English word bread appears in Germanic languages, such as West Frisian: brea, Dutch: brood, German: Brot, Swedish: bröd, and Norwegian and Danish: brød; it may be related to brew or perhaps to break, originally meaning "broken piece", "morsel".[3][better source needed]

History

Main article: History of bread

Bread is one of the oldest prepared foods. Evidence from 30,000 years ago in Europe and Australia revealed starch residue on rocks used for pounding plants.[4][5] It is possible that during this time, starch extract from the roots of plants, such as cattails and ferns, was spread on a flat rock, placed over a fire and cooked into a primitive form of flatbread. The oldest evidence of bread-making has been found in a 14,500-year-old Natufian site in Jordan's northeastern desert.[6][7] Around 10,000 BC, with the dawn of the Neolithic age and the spread of agriculture, grains became the mainstay of making bread. Yeast spores are ubiquitous, including on the surface of cereal grains, so any dough left to rest leavens naturally.[8]Woman baking bread (c. 2200 BC); Louvre

An early leavened bread was baked as early as 6000 BC in southern Mesopotamia, cradle of the Sumerian civilization, who may have passed on the knowledge to the Egyptians around 3000 BC. The Egyptians refined the process and started adding yeast to the flour. The Sumerians were already using ash to supplement the dough as it was baked.[9]

There were multiple sources of leavening available for early bread. Airborne yeasts could be harnessed by leaving uncooked dough exposed to air for some time before cooking. Pliny the Elder reported that the Gauls and Iberians used the foam skimmed from beer, called barm, to produce "a lighter kind of bread than other peoples" such as barm cake. Parts of the ancient world that drank wine instead of beer used a paste composed of grape juice and flour that was allowed to begin fermenting, or wheat bran steeped in wine, as a source for yeast. The most common source of leavening was to retain a piece of dough from the previous day to use as a form of sourdough starter, as Pliny also reported.[10][11]

The ancient Egyptians, Greeks, and Romans all considered the degree of refinement in the bakery arts as a sign of civilization.[9]

The Chorleywood bread process was developed in 1961; it uses the intense mechanical working of dough to dramatically reduce the fermentation period and the time taken to produce a loaf. The process, whose high-energy mixing allows for the use of grain with a lower protein content, is now widely used around the world in large factories. As a result, bread can be produced very quickly and at low costs to the manufacturer and the consumer. However, there has been some criticism of the effect on nutritional value.[12][13][14]

Types

Main article: List of breads

Brown bread (left) and whole grain bread

Dark sprouted bread

Ruisreikäleipä, a flat rye flour loaf with a hole

Bread is the staple food of the Middle East, Central Asia, North Africa, Europe, and in European-derived cultures such as those in the Americas, Australia, and Southern Africa. This is in contrast to parts of South and East Asia, where rice or noodles are the staple. Bread is usually made from a wheat-flour dough that is cultured with yeast, allowed to rise, and baked in an oven. Carbon dioxide and ethanol vapors produced during yeast fermentation result in bread's air pockets.[15] Owing to its high levels of gluten (which give the dough sponginess and elasticity), common or bread wheat is the most common grain used for the preparation of bread, which makes the largest single contribution to the world's food supply of any food.[16]Sangak, an Iranian flatbreadStrucia — a type of European sweet bread

Bread is also made from the flour of other wheat species (including spelt, emmer, einkorn and kamut).[17] Non-wheat cereals including rye, barley, maize (corn), oats, sorghum, millet and rice have been used to make bread, but, with the exception of rye, usually in combination with wheat flour as they have less gluten.[18]

Gluten-free breads are made using flours from a variety of ingredients such as almonds, rice, sorghum, corn, legumes such as beans, and tubers such as cassava. Since these foods lack gluten, dough made from them may not hold its shape as the loaves rise, and their crumb may be dense with little aeration. Additives such as xanthan gum, guar gum, hydroxypropyl methylcellulose (HPMC), corn starch, or eggs are used to compensate for the lack of gluten.[19][20][21][22]

Properties

Physical-chemical composition

In wheat, phenolic compounds are mainly found in hulls in the form of insoluble bound ferulic acid, where it is relevant to wheat resistance to fungal diseases.[23]

Rye bread contains phenolic acids and ferulic acid dehydrodimers.[24]

Three natural phenolic glucosides, secoisolariciresinol diglucoside, p-coumaric acid glucoside and ferulic acid glucoside, can be found in commercial breads containing flaxseed.[25]Small home made bread with pumpkin and sunflower seeds

Glutenin and gliadin are functional proteins found in wheat bread that contribute to the structure of bread. Glutenin forms interconnected gluten networks within bread through interchain disulfide bonds.[26] Gliadin binds weakly to the gluten network established by glutenin via intrachain disulfide bonds.[26] Structurally, bread can be defined as an elastic-plastic foam (same as styrofoam). The glutenin protein contributes to its elastic nature, as it is able to regain its initial shape after deformation. The gliadin protein contributes to its plastic nature, because it demonstrates non-reversible structural change after a certain amount of applied force. Because air pockets within this gluten network result from carbon dioxide production during leavening, bread can be defined as a foam, or a gas-in-solid solution.[27]

Acrylamide, like in other starchy foods that have been heated higher than 120 °C (248 °F), has been found in recent years to occur in bread. Acrylamide is neurotoxic, has adverse effects on male reproduction and developmental toxicity and is carcinogenic. A study has found that more than 99 percent of the acrylamide in bread is found in the crust.[28]

A study by the University of Hohenheim found that industrially produced bread typically has a high proportion of FODMAP carbohydrates due to a short rising time (often only one hour). The high proportion of FODMAP carbohydrates in such bread then causes flatulence. This is particularly problematic in intestinal diseases such as irritable bowel syndrome. While in traditional bread making the dough rises for several hours, industrial breads rise for a much shorter time, usually only one hour. However, a sufficiently long rising time is important to break down the indigestible FODMAP carbohydrates. Some flours (for example, spelt, emmer and einkorn) contain fewer FODMAPs, but the difference between grain types is relatively small (between 1 and 2 percent by weight). Instead, 90% of the FODMAPs that cause discomfort can be broken down during a rising time of 4 hours. In the study, whole-grain yeast doughs were examined after different rising times; the highest level of FODMAPs was present after one hour in each case and decreased thereafter. The study thus shows that it is essentially the baking technique and not the type of grain that determines whether a bread is well tolerated or not. A better tolerance of bread made from original cereals can therefore not be explained by the original cereal itself, but rather by the fact that traditional, artisanal baking techniques are generally used when baking original cereals, which include a long dough process. The study also showed that a long rising time also breaks down undesirable phytates more effectively, flavors develop better, and the finished bread contains more biologically accessible trace elements.[29][30]

Culinary uses

Bread pudding

Bread can be served at many temperatures; once baked, it can subsequently be toasted. It is most commonly eaten with the hands, either by itself or as a carrier for other foods. Bread can be spread with butter, dipped into liquids such as gravy, olive oil, or soup;[31] it can be topped with various sweet and savory spreads, or used to make sandwiches containing meats, cheeses, vegetables, and condiments.[32]

Bread is used as an ingredient in other culinary preparations, such as the use of breadcrumbs to provide crunchy crusts or thicken sauces; toasted cubes of bread, called croutons, are used as a salad topping; seasoned bread is used as stuffing inside roasted turkey; sweet or savoury bread puddings are made with bread and various liquids; egg and milk-soaked bread is fried as French toast; and bread is used as a binding agent in sausages, meatballs and other ground meat products.[33]

Nutritional significance

Bread is a good source of carbohydrates and micronutrients such as magnesium, iron, selenium, and B vitamins. Whole grain bread is a good source of dietary fiber and all breads are a common source of protein in the diet, though not a rich one.[34][35]

Crust

Crust of a cut bread made of whole-grainrye with crust crack (half right at the top)

Bread crust is formed from surface dough during the cooking process. It is hardened and browned through the Maillard reaction using the sugars and amino acids due to the intense heat at the bread surface. The crust of most breads is harder, and more complexly and intensely flavored, than the rest. Old wives' tales suggest that eating the bread crust makes a person's hair curlier.[36] Additionally, the crust is rumored to be healthier than the remainder of the bread. Some studies have shown that this is true as the crust has more dietary fiber and antioxidants such as pronyl-lysine.[37]

Preparation

Steps in bread making, here for an unleavened Chilean tortilla

Doughs are usually baked, but in some cuisines breads are steamed (e.g., mantou), fried (e.g., puri), or baked on an unoiled frying pan (e.g., tortillas). It may be leavened or unleavened (e.g. matzo). Salt, fat and leavening agents such as yeast and baking soda are common ingredients, though bread may contain other ingredients, such as milk, egg, sugar, spice, fruit (such as raisins), vegetables (such as onion), nuts (such as walnut) or seeds (such as poppy).[38]

Methods of processing dough into bread include the straight dough process, the sourdough process, the Chorleywood bread process and the sponge and dough process.Baking bread in East Timor

Formulation

Professional bread recipes are stated using the baker's percentage notation. The amount of flour is denoted to be 100%, and the other ingredients are expressed as a percentage of that amount by weight. Measurement by weight is more accurate and consistent than measurement by volume, particularly for dry ingredients. The proportion of water to flour is the most important measurement in a bread recipe, as it affects texture and crumb the most. Hard wheat flours absorb about 62% water, while softer wheat flours absorb about 56%.[39] Common table breads made from these doughs result in a finely textured, light bread. Most artisan bread formulas contain anywhere from 60 to 75% water. In yeast breads, the higher water percentages result in more CO2 bubbles and a coarser bread crumb.

Dough recipes commonly call for 500 grams (about 1.1 pounds) of flour, which yields a single loaf of bread or two baguettes.

Calcium propionate is commonly added by commercial bakeries to retard the growth of molds.[citation needed]

Flour

Main article: Flour

Flour is grain ground into a powder. Flour provides the primary structure, starch and protein to the final baked bread. The protein content of the flour is the best indicator of the quality of the bread dough and the finished bread. While bread can be made from all-purpose wheat flour, a specialty bread flour, containing more protein (12–14%), is recommended for high-quality bread. If one uses a flour with a lower protein content (9–11%) to produce bread, a shorter mixing time is required to develop gluten strength properly. An extended mixing time leads to oxidization of the dough, which gives the finished product a whiter crumb, instead of the cream color preferred by most artisan bakers.[40]

Wheat flour, in addition to its starch, contains three water-soluble protein groups (albumin, globulin, and proteoses) and two water-insoluble protein groups (glutenin and gliadin). When flour is mixed with water, the water-soluble proteins dissolve, leaving the glutenin and gliadin to form the structure of the resulting bread. When relatively dry dough is worked by kneading, or wet dough is allowed to rise for a long time (see no-knead bread), the glutenin forms strands of long, thin, chainlike molecules, while the shorter gliadin forms bridges between the strands of glutenin. The resulting networks of strands produced by these two proteins are known as gluten. Gluten development improves if the dough is allowed to autolyse.[41]

Liquids

Water, or some other liquid, is used to form the flour into a paste or dough. The weight or ratio of liquid required varies between recipes, but a ratio of three parts liquid to five parts flour is common for yeast breads.[42] Recipes that use steam as the primary leavening method may have a liquid content in excess of one part liquid to one part flour. Instead of water, recipes may use liquids such as milk or other dairy products (including buttermilk or yogurt), fruit juice, or eggs. These contribute additional sweeteners, fats, or leavening components, as well as water.[43]

Fats or shortenings

Fats, such as butter, vegetable oils, lard, or that contained in eggs, affect the development of gluten in breads by coating and lubricating the individual strands of protein. They also help to hold the structure together. If too much fat is included in a bread dough, the lubrication effect causes the protein structures to divide. A fat content of approximately 3% by weight is the concentration that produces the greatest leavening action.[44] In addition to their effects on leavening, fats also serve to tenderize breads and preserve freshness.

Bread improvers

Main article: Bread improver

Bread improvers and dough conditioners are often used in producing commercial breads to reduce the time needed for rising and to improve texture and volume and to give antistaling effects. The substances used may be oxidising agents to strengthen the dough or reducing agents to develop gluten and reduce mixing time, emulsifiers to strengthen the dough or to provide other properties such as making slicing easier, or enzymes to increase gas production.[45]

Salt

Salt (sodium chloride) is very often added to enhance flavor and restrict yeast activity. It also affects the crumb and the overall texture by stabilizing and strengthening[46] the gluten. Some artisan bakers forego early addition of salt to the dough, whether wholemeal or refined, and wait until after a 20-minute rest to allow the dough to autolyse.[47]

Mixtures of salts are sometimes employed, such as employing potassium chloride to reduce the sodium level, and monosodium glutamate to give flavor (umami).

Leavening

See also: Unleavened breadA dough trough, located in Aberdour Castle, once used for leavening bread

Leavening is the process of adding gas to a dough before or during baking to produce a lighter, more easily chewed bread. Most bread eaten in the West is leavened.[48]

Chemicals

A simple technique for leavening bread is the use of gas-producing chemicals. There are two common methods. The first is to use baking powder or a self-raising flour that includes baking powder. The second is to include an acidic ingredient such as buttermilk and add baking soda; the reaction of the acid with the soda produces gas.[48] Chemically leavened breads are called quick breads and soda breads. This method is commonly used to make muffins, pancakes, American-style biscuits, and quick breads such as banana bread.

Yeast

Main article: Baker's yeastCompressed fresh yeast

Many breads are leavened by yeast. The yeast most commonly used for leavening bread is Saccharomyces cerevisiae, the same species used for brewing alcoholic beverages. This yeast ferments some of the sugars producing carbon dioxide. Commercial bakers often leaven their dough with commercially produced baker's yeast. Baker's yeast has the advantage of producing uniform, quick, and reliable results, because it is obtained from a pure culture.[48] Many artisan bakers produce their own yeast with a growth culture. If kept in the right conditions, it provides leavening for many years.[49]

The baker's yeast and sourdough methods follow the same pattern. Water is mixed with flour, salt and the leavening agent. Other additions (spices, herbs, fats, seeds, fruit, etc.) are not needed to bake bread, but are often used. The mixed dough is then allowed to rise one or more times (a longer rising time results in more flavor, so bakers often "punch down" the dough and let it rise again), loaves are formed, and (after an optional final rising time) the bread is baked in an oven.[48]

Many breads are made from a "straight dough", which means that all of the ingredients are combined in one step, and the dough is baked after the rising time;[48] others are made from a "pre-ferment" in which the leavening agent is combined with some of the flour and water a day or so ahead of baking and allowed to ferment overnight. On the day of baking, the rest of the ingredients are added, and the process continues as with straight dough. This produces a more flavorful bread with better texture. Many bakers see the starter method as a compromise between the reliable results of baker's yeast and the flavor and complexity of a longer fermentation. It also allows the baker to use only a minimal amount of baker's yeast, which was scarce and expensive when it first became available. Most yeasted pre-ferments fall into one of three categories: "poolish" or "pouliche", a loose-textured mixture composed of roughly equal amounts of flour and water (by weight); "biga", a stiff mixture with a higher proportion of flour; and "pâte fermentée", which is a portion of dough reserved from a previous batch.[50][51]

Before first rising

After first rising

After proofing, ready to bake

Sourdough

Main article: SourdoughSourdough loaves

Sourdough is a type of bread produced by a long fermentation of dough using naturally occurring yeasts and lactobacilli. It usually has a mildly sour taste because of the lactic acid produced during anaerobic fermentation by the lactobacilli. Longer fermented sourdoughs can also contain acetic acid, the main non-water component of vinegar.[52][53][54]

Sourdough breads are made with a sourdough starter. The starter cultivates yeast and lactobacilli in a mixture of flour and water, making use of the microorganisms already present on flour; it does not need any added yeast. A starter may be maintained indefinitely by regular additions of flour and water. Some bakers have starters many generations old, which are said to have a special taste or texture.[52] At one time, all yeast-leavened breads were sourdoughs. Recently there has been a revival of sourdough bread in artisan bakeries.[55]

Traditionally, peasant families throughout Europe baked on a fixed schedule, perhaps once a week. The starter was saved from the previous week's dough. The starter was mixed with the new ingredients, the dough was left to rise, and then a piece of it was saved to be the starter for next week's bread.[48]

Steam

The rapid expansion of steam produced during baking leavens the bread, which is as simple as it is unpredictable. Steam-leavening is unpredictable since the steam is not produced until the bread is baked. Steam leavening happens regardless of the raising agents (baking soda, yeast, baking powder, sour dough, beaten egg white) included in the mix. The leavening agent either contains air bubbles or generates carbon dioxide. The heat vaporises the water from the inner surface of the bubbles within the dough. The steam expands and makes the bread rise. This is the main factor in the rising of bread once it has been put in the oven.[56] CO2 generation, on its own, is too small to account for the rise. Heat kills bacteria or yeast at an early stage, so the CO2 generation is stopped.

Bacteria

Salt-rising bread does not use yeast. Instead, it is leavened by Clostridium perfringens, one of the most common sources of food-borne illness.[57][58]

Aeration

Aerated bread is leavened by carbon dioxide being forced into dough under pressure. From the mid-19th to mid-20th centuries, bread made this way was somewhat popular in the United Kingdom, made by the Aerated Bread Company and sold in its high-street tearooms. The company was founded in 1862, and ceased independent operations in 1955.[59]

The Pressure-Vacuum mixer was later developed by the Flour Milling and Baking Research Association for the Chorleywood bread process. It manipulates the gas bubble size and optionally the composition of gases in the dough via the gas applied to the headspace.[60]

Cultural Significance

A Ukrainian woman in national dress welcoming with bread and salt

Main article: Bread in culture

Bread has a significance beyond mere nutrition in many cultures because of its history and contemporary importance. Bread is also significant in Christianity as one of the elements (alongside wine) of the Eucharist,[61] and in other religions including Paganism.[62]

In many cultures, bread is a metaphor for basic necessities and living conditions in general. For example, a "bread-winner" is a household's main economic contributor and has little to do with actual bread-provision. This is also seen in the phrase "putting bread on the table". The Roman poet Juvenal satirized superficial politicians and the public as caring only for "panem et circenses" (bread and circuses).[63] In Russia in 1917, the Bolsheviks promised "peace, land, and bread."[64][65] The term "breadbasket" denotes an agriculturally productive region. In parts of Northern, Central, Southern and Eastern Europe bread and salt is offered as a welcome to guests.[66] In India, life's basic necessities are often referred to as "roti, kapra aur makan" (bread, cloth, and house).[67]

Words for bread, including "dough" and "bread" itself, are used in English-speaking countries as synonyms for money.[1] A remarkable or revolutionary innovation may be called the best thing since "sliced bread".[68] The expression "to break bread with someone" means "to share a meal with someone".[69] The English word "lord" comes from the Anglo-Saxon hlāfweard, meaning "bread keeper."[70]

Bread is sometimes referred to as "the staff of life", although this term can refer to other staple foods in different cultures: the Oxford English Dictionary defines it as "bread (or similar staple food)".[71][72] This is sometimes thought to be a biblical reference, but the nearest wording is in Leviticus 26 "when I have broken the staff of your bread".[73] The term has been adopted in the names of bakery firms.[74]

See also

Food portal

Bark bread – Scandinavian bread used as famine food

Bread bowl – Round loaf of bread which has had a large portion of the middle cut out to create an edible bowl

Bread clip – Closure device for plastic bags

Bread dildo – Dildo prepared using bread, allegedly made in the Greco-Roman era around 2,000 years ago

Breading – Residue of dried bread

Bread machine – Type of home appliance for baking bread

Bread pan – Kitchen utensil

Crouton – Rebaked breads

List of breads

List of bread dishes – Dishes using bread as a main ingredient, listed by category

List of toast dishes

Quick bread – Bread leavened with agents other than yeast

Sliced bread – Loaf of bread that has been sliced with a machine

Slow Bread – Type of bread made using very little yeast

Sop – Piece of bread or toast that is drenched in liquid and then eaten.

Stuffing – Edible mixture filling a food's cavity

White bread – Type of bread made from white wheat flour

oh fuck yes bread

[allwaswell16]

A fic rec of One Direction fantasy fics as requested in this ask. If you enjoy the fics, please leave kudos and comments for the writers! You can find my other fic recs here. Happy reading

—Louis/Harry—

🔮 forever is in your eyes by we_are_the_same / @so-why-let-your-voice-be-tamed

(M, 125k, mythology, statue) He wants his perfect man, but he wants him to be real. He wants Harry to be real-

🔮 There's Such a Lot of World to See by @crinkle-eyed-boo

(E, 125k, Doctor Who) Louis has seen a great many things throughout his travels in time and space, but only one he can’t explain: He keeps meeting the same boy, who says the same thing to him each time. The boy should be impossible.

🔮 Black with Autumn Rain by whimsicule

(T, 93k, magical realism) Harry is a journalist, Louis has lots of secrets and the moors aren't exactly the ideal place to rekindle a lost romance.

🔮 Coax the Cold by MediaWhore / @mediawhorefics

(M, 86k, mermaid) When he hears whispers of a travelling freak show newly established in London claiming the existence of a monstrous sea hybrid, half-man, half-fish, Louis sees it as his ticket to credibility amongst his peers.

🔮 Tied to Fate by @littlelouishiccups

(E, 52k, ghost) After his estranged father’s death, Harry inherits a castle in England that has belonged to his family for generations and he knows nothing about. 

🔮 It's a Better Place (Since You Came Along) by @phdmama

(E, 51k, magic) When Harry Styles, a mid-level talent, Finder, and small business owner, sets off on the vacation of a lifetime with his best friend, Niall Horan, he has no idea the changes his life will undergo over the next nine days.

🔮 Mind of Stone by amomentoflove / @daggerandrose

(M, 41k, mythology) Louis gingerly moves around the statues, trying not to look at their faces. The room is quiet, probably a basement from the low ceiling. He mentally curses when he doesn’t see a door leading outside.

🔮 The Haunting of Louis Tomlinson by @helloamhere

(T, 31k, ghost) Louis is a plucky Gothic Heroine, Harry is a Mournful Spirit, and Big Country Houses are full of mystery and suspense, as Big Country Houses ever are!

🔮 Genie In a Bottle (series) by @kingsofeverything

(E, 29k, genie) As the owner of a second hand shop, Harry comes into contact with a lot of strange and unusual objects. Nothing’s stranger or more unusual than the glass bottle he came across that happened to have a genie inside—a gorgeous genie by the name of Louis who offered to make all of Harry’s wishes come true.

🔮 Don't Let the Tide Come and Take Me by kiwikero / @icanhazzalou

(M, 28k, mermaid) the one where Louis decides to set a merman free and ends up finding his own freedom along the way.

🔮 Where the World has Come Together by LadyLondonderry / @londonfoginacup

(M, 26k, elves, vampires) For the crime of elven blood running through his veins, Louis Tomlinson spends his days protecting the human kingdom he’s been cast out of. 

🔮 Love Will Light The Way by @jesapeak​ 

(E, 26k, reaper) Most people throughout Louis's life thought that dying brought you to one of two gates. Heaven or Hell. Really, it brought you to a dated diner, just outside of the suburbs, skirting the beginning of the city. Where, instead of God, you met Liam Payne and his post-it notes. 

🔮 The Blood of Love by @mugglemirror

(E, 25k, witches) Harry is a nurse and Louis is a painting worth more than a thousand words. As desire and darkness encompasses him, Harry has to learn the secrets of Thorne Hills manor before he succumbs to the mystery that surrounds him.

🔮 In the Strangest of Ways by SunTomato / @sun-tomato

(NR, 17k, ghost) And when the haunting sounds of a melancholy piano piece accompanied by the vague shadow of a beautiful male figure appear, Louis is determined to find out who this beautiful man was and what happened to him…

🔮 (Make You Want To) Scream by @lululawrence

(M, 16k, bodyswap) While Louis' left hand plays with his nipple, his right reaches down and wraps around his dick and that's when he really knows something is wrong. The dick in his hand does not feel like his own.

🔮 Far Afield by QuickedWeen / @becomeawendybird

(T, 11k, witches) Harry Styles is a witch who owns the best flower shop in Manchester. Lottie Tomlinson is planning her wedding, and brings her brother along to her first appointment. Both men have been having a bad day and sparks fly.

🔮 Just Your Jinx by @larryatendoftheday

(T, 10k, witch) Harry Styles may or may not have accidentally jinxed his extremely fit new neighbor, and it's not so easy to make things right.

🔮 Sympathy For The Devil by @taggiecb

(G, 5k, Satan, Santa) the one with Santa Harry and Satan Louis and a series of misspelled letters to Santa.

🔮 Moon Dances Over by LadyLondonderry / @londonfoginacup

(G, 2k, mermaids) Louis knows that his tail is, frankly, stunning. His iridescent blue scales shimmer in even the slightest sunlight, and his fins have grown since he presented, delicate and almost transparent in their webbing.

🔮 Needle by @nouies

(NR, 666 words, magic) “You didn’t deserve this,” he muttered between hiccups. “She didn’t have the right.”

—Rare Pairs—

🔮 leave my life outside (or let me in) by we_are_the_same / @so-why-let-your-voice-be-tamed

(M, 52k, Zayn/Liam) Zayn is a 111 year old demon who is trying to decide his future. Liam is a 17 year old human struggling with his own life.

🔮 When We Hold On (To the Past) by @louandhazaf​ / YesIsAWorld 

(E, 3k, Zayn/Louis) Zayn could drop the subject and keep fucking him, keep the strings from getting attached, pretend that they weren’t getting closer than Louis was comfortable with. Or Zayn could choose the opposite path—which he did.