sakuraeyefish

[widowshill]

my r/v brain WON'T leave me allone. sorr y . can't turn it off too busy thinking about the 75 fate lines again.

[gruesomejack]

"Jack?" Alex's voice was touched with sleep, his eyes soft and squinty. Rabbit spun the knife in his hand between his fingers and eased on closer, his gaze shifting fondly over the man. Blinking, his attention was pulled towards his stomach. His shirt had lifted during his nap, his tummy and the soft blonde hair dusting the center was out and open for appreciation. Rabbit leaned closer, ghosting the tip of the down pretty skin until it could tease at his waistband.

👁👁🔪

[janumun]

Painted Red (LaDS Sylus - NSFW ABCs Headcanon]

Rated: NSFW/18+

Words: ~4k

Tags: oral, vaginal and anal sex, usage of toys, fingering, enemies to lovers dynamic/passing usage of guns, bondage, semi-public sex, improper use of Evol, switching power roles, dirty talk, masturbation, mirrors, orgasm denial, praise kink

Author’s Notes: A little treat to myself right before Sylus’ release. Please take careful note of those tags and content warnings before you proceed.

I hope you enjoy your read as much I enjoyed myself writing this!

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)   

With the state of indecent disarray one usually ends up in —  quivering, drenched thighs, nerveless arms useless by your sides, a flushed face and an inability to catch your breath — after a single night spent in Sylus’ bed, aftercare is a necessity post-coitus. And fortunately, the man, damn him, knows and understands so, very well.  

And so, he has a pitcher of cold water, prepared well beforehand — even on days your dalliances are not what the two of you intend when you meet — ready and at your disposal by the bedside.  

The moment he pulls out of you, another short one spared to ensure you are still there, with him and well, he’s moving off of you. A clean robe he throws on, loose, over his body before striding over to the nightstand to pour you a glass.  

A cool, pleasant palm he eases against the back of your head to raise, as he encourages you take those big, long gulps of fluid to quench your thirst and replenish your energies. “There you go, well done,” his low baritone settling deep within your belly, your core instinctively clenching in on emptiness to hear his unexpected praise for something so very mundane.  

Truly, you do not know what this man is doing to your body and mind.  

Extra 

Sylus slides into bed with you for the remainder of your night and tucks close under the covers, for your much needed repose.  

Morning afters, you greet with a fresh shower (and on days you insist, with him), a pair of clean towels and a pressed outfit, ready for you to change into and later settle in for a healthy, fulfilling breakfast, whipped up to perfection by his personal chef. All of his house-staff, professional, discrete and well-versed in handling affairs of the Onychinus scion’s household. Whatever the two of you share within the confines of your privacy — animosities or amourous rendezvous —  remains entombed, within that very space.  

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)   

Sylus takes pride within his dexterity, particularly that of his limbs (...particularly that of his hands, his fingers when it comes to matters of the bedroom).  

One would hardly expect a man of his body stature to possess the nimble flexibility that resides compacted within his body. An erroneous judgment that often proves fatal to foolish foes within a fight.  

And with you, he puts that lethal agility to use: within the push of thick digits up into your clenching walls, the roughened pads of them swiftly seeking and pressing up against the spot at your frontal walls that makes you wail, makes you twist. Makes that body of yours gush against his insistent palm in an orgasm vehement enough, you see dark blanket across your eyes for the scarcity of mere seconds. Truly bringing upon you, as they call it, la petite mort. A tiny death.  

Sylus is extremely fond of your face. It’s not because of the way you look, a mere pretty face in the crowd he would simply gloss over; it’s the striking catch of your facial tells that steal his gaze and keep it captive.  

The wary intensity of your eyes the first time you laid eyes on him. 

Or the way your brow knit in firm concentration when you had him tossed to the ground, once. Nearly taking him by something almost akin to surprise, the weight of your gun, incessant, against his chest. Your mouth turning sour in restless irritation when he dared try tease at your sensibilities, a harsh knee you plunged deeper into his torso.  

The quick work of your mind — a testament of its well-endowed intellect and wit, a Hunter of good repute —  channeling brilliance in crisp words uttered from rouged lips, when the two of you, on one certain occasion, found yourselves in a particularly dire situation. One you’d agreed to accompany him to, undercover, as an associate of the Onychinus’ head.   

Truly, he has been snared with your fascinating mien since the day he laid his eyes upon you, your expressions spinning — amusing — as if placed upon a carousel, the longer he spends in your company.  

And from there on, is born a desire to witness even more.  

When you drive him back into the covers with the force of your wet kiss, parting untimely before he has the proper chance to put his tongue into your mouth and taste for himself (there will be further opportunities, he holds himself). 

The way that well-coveted, devious tongue sweeps a slow path against your upper lip —just out of reach — edge to edge. The harsh dash of red, high across your cheeks, the intensity of your breaths, untamed as his. And those beautiful eyes, a riotous mix of vexation and desire so incinerating, it turns Sylus’s cock to unbearably hard stone beneath the cleft of your ass, he bucks up against you just to see that wheeling carousel within your gaze, shift forms for him, watch that mouth swear at the exhilarating stimulation of your combined symphony, he knows, you too feel. Just for him alone.  

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)  

Sylus enjoys the slick feeling of your skin stained by his cum; that exact moment he pulls out of your quivering walls to release himself in thick spurts down the length of your folds. Slips the head of his cock against the smears of his release, before pushing back, slow, once more into your depths.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self-explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)  

There is no secrecy or shame involved with a man in possession of as poised a self-assurance as Sylus; his sexual tendencies he not only owns up to and understands but has no qualms about elucidating his wants in great... obscene detail, to his partner, you.  

He wants you to be knowing exactly what it is you are doing to arouse him and exactly how to get him up to that stage.  

His palms curving about your thighs, scaffoldings of heated flesh that climb up and slink slow beneath the cut of your dress. Covetous fingers that trace delicate patterns against the lining of your panties and yet you quiver underneath that feather touch alone. “Such fine lace.” Garnet gaze, sharp, as it meets yours within the tight, much too confined space of his car. 

The chauffeur in front, separated a mere layer away from the two of you as Sylus wrenches you onto his spread lap, the firm muscle of his thighs unyielding beneath as they shift, subtle, to press you deeper against a broad chest.  

Index and middle scouring a hot, glancing path against your clothed slit before withdrawing, leaving you to scramble for purchase against the fine pressed collar of his shirt, creasing it within your hold.  

Your question snipped short with the soft, soughing whisper at your ear, voicing his true intentions. “I’d very much like a memento, to remember our evening by. Your panties...” Devious fingers pinching at the apex of your heat. “They will do well, sweetheart.” 

A moan tumbles past your lips before you can smother the sound —   you break it against the sweep of his mouth, welcoming —  at such a scandalous request, bold, without a lick of remorse. Just as the man himself.  

“I trust you will help me then, yes?” A long, tapered finger, pressing above underwear, right at your slit. Course thumb leisurely stroking its fire against that tight bead of pleasure. A rumbled groan he breaks free against your ear to feel the wanton slick of your arousal, soaking right through fabric. “That’s right, drench them well. I want your fragrance long on my gift, even after your departure.”  

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)  

Sylus has been out and about. He isn’t capricious enough to have changed sexual partners as frequently as the rumors around Zone N109 might paint him to have, but he is certainly no stranger to sex.  

His preference before you, usually having been for casual, short-lived, discrete dalliances, to indulge in bodily pleasures and no more beyond. With a man as committed to his goals as Sylus is, with a clear concept of how he wishes to manipulate the underworld to his liking, he does not spare much attention to subsidiary gratifications. 

With people at large, he is apathetic to that which does not catch his interest. There is very few within this world that truly does.  

And you, now, stand among those rare few treasures that have all of his attentions arrested. 

He finds himself wanting to captivate you, in turn, not just in body but mind. Truly, he finds you a fascinating being.  

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)  

Seated within his lap, cock nestled warm within clenching depths. 

Hair, a spread of wild locks across the coverlet, mirroring the writhing state of your sweat-drenched body underneath his, as he thrusts into you. 

Hungering fingers clawing at the expanse of his chest, down the strength of his shoulders as you furiously grind upon his cock, intoxicatedly chasing an orgasm just within reach. Strong fingers, he rushes down the length of your clenching abdomen, inquisitive palm digging just beneath your naval to feel for the vibrations that ripple across pliant skin with the vehemence of your thrusts onto his cock.  

Sylus relishes the privilege of your private, salacious unravelings, brought upon by him alone, by what he does to you and what you force out of him, for your singular pleasure. Desires heightened to witness you using his body to bring yourself to shattering ruin, it floods his veins with inebriating arousal so heavy, his body aches with the force of his want. 

As such any which way he takes or lets you take, which allows him privy to your raw, unfettered emotions rushing across your face [See above: B, Body Part] is what he enjoys most. Bringing him to completion the fastest when he is able to witness your mouth breaking apart in moans, watch sex mussed strands of hair stick to your temples, mixing in with the sweat of your body, tear-streaked pleasure smeared vivid across your cheeks. 

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)  

Your sexual escapades are hot, often times competitive and cathartic; an unfettering of strangled desires. Bursting to the surface within the fever of your intimacy. Arduous cravings that are hardly scotched in a singular session. 

Vocal and perverse though he may be in tongue when it comes to your love-making, Sylus is not one for poetic romanticisms waxed within the bedroom. A man of action rather than ornate words. 

His regard for you exhibited in the grip of sturdy arms that clutch you back against his body, feeling for each part of you pressed against his. In the tongue that laves at sweat soaked skin in soothing mercy, from the relentless assault of his hips against your ass.  

Roughened thumbs that swab at tears from red-rimmed eyes, post-coitus, a gentle towel that skates soft down the quivering length of your ruined body before tucking it clean into fresh robes.  

The manner in which he chooses to stay close and warm your bed, instead of leaving right after, even after the fire within your veins has long cooled itself. Foregoing his own personal mandate, to never spare a single trace of himself behind.  

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)  

Sylus takes exceptional care to maintain good hygiene at all times; a man who looks and smells just as good, the pleasant, sharp undertones to his cologne, having you canting your nose into the space of his neck, as you breathe. 

 Right at that tendon wrung taut with the press of your teeth into a harsh bite, to choke the scream that climbs up your throat with the hard propulsions of his cock into your depths.  

Downstairs, he is fairly clean; a shave on the regular, a mere fine dusting of ivory tracing a path from navel, downwards until it disappears beneath the stretch of his pants.  

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)  

[Also see above: G] Choosing to bury his skewed smiles against your wet moans, the bite of restive teeth you sink into his lip, pulling it wider.  The anchor he throws forwards for both your sakes in the entwining of digits, meshing tight against the other to ride out your highs.  

Sinking a bite in farewell right above your left breast before you part, so he knows how that heart bears its frenzied beats for him alone. A reminder he leaves upon your body to ache by, until the next time he finds himself buried within you.  

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)  

Sylus lies in possession of an exceedingly high sexual drive. And herculean, in-humane self-control to boot. Experienced though he may be, due to the course of his sexual history; he’s been able to keep his casual encounters to a minimum due to how well he is able to compartmentalize his needs.  

Overwhelming desires at times, he often spilled within the confines of an oiled fist. At others, tamping down the more primal parts of himself, until he felt it turn a necessity.  

After you, he allows himself release from that tight-fisted restraint more often. Finishing himself in white relief, trickling down his fingers on the days (...hours) he does not have your warm body to sheath into, does not have the symphony of your cries to help him along.  

Your visage in mind, sharp, jagged; he’s already expecting your next meeting with bated pleasure. 

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)  

Sylus loves the color red on you, appreciates fiercely how becoming it is on you.

Loves to buy you dresses — scarlet as his eyes, as his desires —  to put on, when you let him. Personally ensures, first-hand, they are well-fitted, within the confines of a cosy dressing room. 

When large hands reach to flit past the split of your dress, cup about your ass, fingers drifting about your waist. “A perfect fit.”He praises, to your reflection within the body-length mirror. Skating further up your body to finger the strap of the outfit, skirting it, slow, down your shoulder. Indolent digits, index and thumb, pinching at the hardened peaks of a breast. Curving a hefty palm about the clothed flesh. “You’re a sight to behold.” 

Red, when he curls a palm in between the cleft of your legs, leaves your flesh smarting with the short, pinching grinds against an increasingly swollen clit, stimulated for hours on end. Ruby, to match the flush at your cheeks. Scarlet, down the crescent of your breasts.  

Wine, when you make his color spill with the bite of harsh teeth into his lip, bursting blood in between your mouths, as you withdraw on panting breaths.  Tipping down in willing obeisance — he gifts just to you— with the violent tug of your fingers, directing him back against your mouth. Lapping at his wound, marking him for your own.  

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)  

Anytime, any place, any where.  

There isn’t an authority powerful enough on Earth to stay his hand, once the two of you decide you want your bodies against each other. Sylus does not shy from an opportunity presented, and if there is none, he makes one.  

In seclusion, or in public— 

Crowds melting away the moment his fingers whip about your waist, stealing you away into private silence. The weight of his Evol has barely scattered from your shoulders, before the strength of his body replaces it, driving you back against a carved pillar. Mouth pulsing against yours in a slow, heavy kiss. Wet, hot; parting from your tongue on a conjoined string of damp pleasure, that bows and breaks under the weight of gravity.  

There isn’t a moment he does not desire you and he certainly has no specious sensibilities to appeal to, when it comes to the chance to indulge you.  

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)  

Curses, nothing quite turns Sylus on than to see you flourish in the place you shine best. When you are dedicated and singular-minded, in pursuit of your target. When you are forced to contend against situations far out of your control, compelled to navigate the perilous dangers that come with your line of work, be it the Tenebrae, Wanderers or something else entirely. And rise above it all, through the sheer drive you possess, a stubborn nature unable to give up on what you believe in. Not unlike his own, a kinship he finds within you.  

A desire to obtain that fire for his own. 

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)  

There is little Sylus would ever deny you. Certainly, keep from you, briefly; demands he may not fulfill immediately, in the pursuit of your combined pleasures. 

Sharing you with another, however, is a stringent boundary. 

Despite that first impression he settles, of immovable composure, he’s territorial, rather like a murder of crows, over you. Your heart, your sole focus, he desires to monopolize for his own. 

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)  

Having your mouth on his cock is stimulating. Having your positions swapped and your ass grinding hard against the strength of his jaw, however, is what truly incinerates the blood within his veins. The leverage it bestows within his hold, to have you. Manipulate your pleasure to his liking, set the blood thrumming high within your own body.

Sturdy arms that cord about the plush of quivering thighs, garnet gaze that rolls up to capture yours, accompanying the wicked bite of teeth into the pliant flesh of your thigh. The flat of his tongue running from base to hood, ensuring not a single drop is wasted.  

Relishing his victory in the slow sweep of lids falling shut, the open grin that pulls taut, with the harsh, fluttering pull of your fingers at his hair, shoving him deeper into your pussy. Signaling your utter defeat. 

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)  

Sylus is in it for the long game. And no matter what it takes, no matter the cost, he sees to it that he gets what he wants.  

Oh, him fracturing from that torturous tug-and-pull you’ve got going on, is but a feverish wish on your part. Sylus lives for the pleasure of your ruination, delights in the number of times he can crest you to your climax. And when not. 

Part desire, part the necessity to have you well and utterly drenched before he even thinks to breach that soft, quivering flesh. Extended periods of torturous teasing foreplay, obligatory if he is to have penetrative sex with you. His size, he understands, not an easy burden to accommodate.  

He often starts out slow; long, deep thrusts into your body as it clenches and moulds against the shape of him. Stimulated eventually enough, you drip copious against him, pleasure over-riding any remaining scraps of  fleeting discomfort entirely until you’re clawing at the sturdy strength of his back. 

Fingernails pulsing at the firm flesh of his ass, his name tumbling incoherent from a parched mouth, until he’s driving into you with the vehemence of an untethered beast. Guttural groans and whispered sighs, splintering against the give of your neck in tandem to your mounting screams. Quenched against the bite of a breast.  

Letting your desires burn in between you until the moment they’re blanketed, hours later, into the dark of night.  

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)  

Sylus does not wait. When he witnesses desire pool within that provoked gaze, watches the fire that burns parched, as you seek for moisture with the slow slide of a pink tongue against your rouged lip.  

Helping you along into a dark crevice, if you’re out in public. Drawing your panties down against your thighs to reach for the place in between your legs. Roughened fingers plucking at wetness, dragging an indolent path from your slit to the apex of your sex. Curving one long, tapered digit into your clenching walls, stroking, until he brings you crashing for him.  

Proud mouth pulsing a kiss in hushed laughter against your temple, as he assists you in putting yourself back in spruced order.  

Sylus never goes the entire way, when the two of you are rushing against the clock. Ample time, he requires — and makes certain he’d have that, later — to unwrap and uncover the entirety of you, piece by piece.  

An early aperitif, however, is one he isn’t opposed to, especially when it is served, as intoxicating as you are. 

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)  

He’s willing and he’s game; a word from you is all he requires before granting you exactly what you desire, in spades.  

There isn’t a thing you could throw his way to turn him off you, Sylus is the kind of man to take it all in stride.  

[See also: L, N and K] 

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)  

Oh, he possesses a generous, infuriating amount of discipline; immovable rock in the face of obvious temptation. That does not, however, imply there isn’t a savage beast caged, restless, underneath that cool, tempered demeanor. Sylus merely maintains inhumane control over the leash of that sexuality beneath. And he knows how well to untether it too, once he allows himself to let loose his inhibitions.  

Infinite stores of stamina (for daaays), an extremely brief refractory period and an overwhelming desire to wring you dry, entirely for himself, make for a terrifying combination.  

Your hips would long break before Sylus’ cock ever begun to lose its vigor.  

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)  

Sylus knows an opportunity when he sees one and the chance to have you utterly devastated, is one he never lets up on, and toys are just a welcome addition to his arsenal.  

Pretty little baubles, the two of you purchased together on one of your dates — a discrete, neat store tucked within one of N109’s infamous districts, the way he’d encouraged your fascinated survey of the store’s à la mode selection of vibrators and jeweled plugs, a vaguely amused smile plucking at his mouth. Pulling up every single toy that sparked your fancy for a detailed overview from the ever-present staff, more than happy to answer all your enthused questions.  

Rounding a firm hand about your waist to tug to his side, at the end of your purchase trip, breathing a sensual promise into the cleft of your ear, to let you try them all out in due time. 

And he fulfills it, in equal enthusiasm. 

Deft fingers that press up to slide against the insistent vibrations of the object settled snug into your wet walls. Toying, indolent, at the intensity of its stimulation with sporadic flicks of his Evol. Your stuttered moans clawing higher the longer he keeps you suspended within this torturous state of denial. Rejecting your babbles to let you come, that he’s been at it for hours.  

“Not yet,” he instructs, slipping a cool hand onto the shell of your hip to hold down your senseless bucking.  

It is only several, excruciating denied orgasms later does he tug free the plug at your ass, pressing his cock in lieu of its emptiness. And the way your hole clamps down in a vice at the base of him drags a shuddered, guttural groan from him. Your body stimulated so beyond sense, it drags an exhilarated laugh from his chest, in conjunction to your lost moans. 

“This is it, lovely. Are you enjoying yourself that much?” Mouth pulling wider at your vehement nods. “Do you desire more?” Sinking three fingers up to the knuckle into your pussy, without warning. A quick tug of them upwards, has his energy tinkering at the vibrator’s intensity, sending it buzzing higher and you wail your curses at him. “Hah.” He shudders above, pressing deeper against your back. “That’s it, I like those sounds.” 

“Sing higher, darling.” 

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)  

Oh, his craving for riling you up and goading you is infinite. 

Even when you have him physically bound and at your mercy; the gorgeous, insouciant pull of that mouth into a skewed smile —  a crafted calculation — has you feeling as if he still holds the entirety of a winning deck within those trussed hands.  

Through each singular groan, every heaving breath and grunt, a disquieting, infuriating grin tugs constant at lips that demand further of your cruelty. As if a perverse beast actually enjoying the cage it belongs in.  

The ram of a harsh heel, deep into his abdomen, has his grunting a long, gravely sound, Sylus’ body driving further into the savage crush of your shoe — pleasure so intoxicating in the knot of strong brows, that parted mouth —  it stirs fiery arousal deep within your own belly.  

Traitorous wetness trailing down the length of your thighs, arousal that Sylus convulses against the binds of his shackles for. Manages to dip forwards just enough —  the brute —  to catch the trickle of wetness against an adept tongue, at your thigh, and lap. Garnet gaze seeking and capturing yours in a haze so vicious your fingers fist harsh into his hair, in an unforgiving pull. Your moans, he steals — victorious — for himself.  

“That is surely not all you can manage to do with me, can you, darling?” 

 And you can’t be too dishonest with yourself any longer; your orgasms far more fervid and ruinous when he’s had you both dancing along to his little cat-and-mouse game for hours on end, teasing you both with the pantomime of the act. Until, finally, finally, his cock plunges past aching, swollen folds and into your drenched, clenching walls.  

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)  

Sylus’ moans are low, licentious burrs; throaty whispers he secretes right against your ear, to turn your legs to quivering flesh. He doesn’t require his voice to rise above a certain octave, not when he has you gushing on his face with the vibrations that buffet deep into your pussy, when that pleasured rumble of his breaks right in between your legs. 

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)  

Sylus does not care much for binding or detaining you — restraining your senses — for personal pleasure.  

He allows you use of your precious fetters and restraints, for what it does for him — an opportunity to maneuver your pleasure — and for the two of you, that is... if you can manage to bring him under, to begin with.  

It merely isn’t something that works for him, in roles reversed, when he finds himself sufficient enough to draw forth the pleasure he can achieve for the two of you, with his body alone. 

He has innumerable ways within his arsenal he can bring you to mind-numbing finish with, and he doesn’t require the comfort of a rope for that.  

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)  

Sylus’ cock is a beautiful, symmetrical thing — rather intimidating at first glance. He teaches your body to take it well, in long, pleasurable lessons. Curving, slight. towards his abdomen. A thick shaft running up into a flared glans that burns in pleasurable penetration the first time you take him in. Numerous, undulating veins along the length, that bump perfect against the surface of your tongue when you swirl around it. 

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)  

[Incredibly high as detailed at great length in J and S] 

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards) 

Sleep is the farthest thing from mind when the Onychinus’ head has you tucked at last, exhausted, within his bed. His body — long programmed — hardly permitting the scope of vulnerability slumber brings, in your presence.  

And so, he puts that time to other pursuits. Often nights, choosing to watch over your sleep, carding the occasional stray strand of hair back against your ear. At others, he brings work to bed, spectacled scarlet gaze scouring over lines of text and diagrammatic compilations.  

Not choosing to desert your side, even once, throughout the entire night, protective over your own vulnerability, for as long as it lasts. 

End Notes: Once my fingers actually started on this man, I could not stop even if I wanted to. Sylus has me gripped by my very throat and that worries me greatly LOL.

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[if-whats-new]

What's New In IF? Halloween edition! Issue 26 (2024)

By Brij, Dion, Bex and Jen

Now Available!

Itch.io - Keep Reading below

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~ EDITORIAL ~

Boo! Did you get scared?

Well we hope we didn’t scare you away! Our favourite time of the year is here and with it a Halloween themed Issue! Next to the regular WNIF stuff we included a recommendation section full of the best games to play in this time of the year, so be sure to check it out!

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As we’re starting to get a hand of things, we would love some feedback from you guys! What you enjoy, want more or less off, how we could improve... Anything goes! We even have a nifty form!

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We hope you have a terror-ific time reading this issue!

BRIJ, DION, BEX AND JEN

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~ EVENT SPOTLIGHT : ECTOCOMP 2024 ~

La Petite Mort or Le Grand Guignol? Either way, it’s going to get spooky!

Ever since October 2007 spooky-game enthusiasts all over the world have a chance to participate in ECTOCOMP, an annual competition for interactive fiction celebrating the SPOOKY MONTH OF HALLOWEENTOBER. Whether you celebrate Halloween, Day of the Dead, All Saint's Eve, or just love ghost stories and creeping people out, this is your time to shine!

Previously organized by Jason Guest for ADRIFT games, the jam is now open to all development platforms. Since the beginning of this initiative, there has been a motivation to unite and strengthen ties between international communities in the IF world. Creators can submit games either in one of the four main languages - English, Spanish, French and German or any other!

This year marks the 40th anniversary of Ghostbusters. Named after the Ghostbusters’ car license plate number ECTO 1, this year the jam pays tribute to the film that inspired the title! Some other subthemes and inspiration prompts are: Spooky adventure, Sweet supernatural, Halloween fest, Día de Los Muertos, All Saints', All Souls' Eve and any other festivity or mythology around the world.

As per tradition, Ectocomp has two categories:

La Petite Mort, for those who want to speed-write their game in 4 hours or less.

Le Grand Guignol, for games that, for whatever reason, took longer than 4 hours to write.

When the jam is over, all of the submitted games will be uploaded to the IF Archive.

~ ENDED ~

The voting for IFComp ended and the winners have been announced! Congratulations to the first-place winner, The Bat by Chandler Groover! Check out the complete results for this year's competition.

Another edition of the Bad Art Visual Novel Jam is upon us! Check out the two entries!

~ ONGOING (VOTING) ~

Entries have been submitted for the 6th Spooktober Annual Visual Novel Jam! You can vote for your favourites until October 27th! Every October Friday you can also watch Chizu's sponsored Spooktober Stream where she plays through all submissions!

Find inspiration in dusty old decrepit corners, revivify the forgotten - the Revival Jam 2024 is here! You can now vote for your favourite entries!

~ ONGOING (SUBMITTING) ~

Strip IF to it’s bare bones and all it become beautiful text. That’s what The Bare-Bones Jam is about.

It’s spooky month and with it comes the annual ECTOCOMP 2024. If it’s spooky or supernatural why not submit it?

Running until Halloween, the Phantasia Jam is a three months game jam to create a fantasy narrative game, with the theme of “Hidden Magic”. It accepts both VN and IF.

On the CoG Forum, Halloween is already there! Until Oct 31st, you can submit your projects to the Halloween Jam - but don't forget the theme! VAMPIRE, Murder, 70’s Disco!

Disabled Rep VN Jam has a very simple premise but a very important message.

Once upon a time, a game jam was held to create stories around the theme of fairy tales… and that game jam is the Once Upon A Time VN Jam. It’s running from October 1st to January 31st.

Concours de Fiction Interactive Francophone 2025 is for all French-speaking enthusiasts. Submissions are accepted until March 3rd 2025.

Are you perhaps a fan of more somber, melancholic themes? Then check out the Dying Year - Visual Novel Jam! You have until the end of the year to participate.

The Black Visual Novel Jam is all about working with creative professional developers who work in visual novels to bring more Black stories to life. The goal is to create a space where Black creators can show their unique storytelling through visual novels.

Bare your teeth and sharpen your claws because the Monstrous Desires 2024 Visual Novel Jam is here! Dedicated to the love of entities, horrors, and monstrosities, this jam will be full of romantic Visual Novels (VN) that heavily focus on a monster may it be original or from classics, folklore, modern media, etc.

~ OTHER ~

Jams are a great way to find new games! Don’t be afraid to check out submissions from previous years as well. There might be some gems hiding between them!

~ NEW RELEASE ~

Heavens’ Revolution: A Lion Among the Cypress (CScript) is a flintlock space fantasy inspired by eighteenth-century Iran.

Love and Death in the Shadow of the Demiurge (Twine) is an interactive tale of self-love and self-hate, beauty and the lack of it. @infimace-blog

As the Eye Can See (Twine) is a short story about the day before Halloween. @skyshard13

Larut (Ren’Py) is a fictional work retelling of the Indonesian folklore and mythological figure, Nyi Roro Kidul.

As always, don't forget to check out the submitted entries to the events mentioned in the previous pages. They deserve some love too!

~ NEW RELEASE (WIP) ~

You're only 20 when suddenly your life goes bam! Throwing you into a whole new city, a different country even. Can you find your place in the world and restart or lose yourself in temptation? Time to find out in Paved in Ashes (CScript)! @pavedinashes-if

Spotlight (CScript), navigate the red carpet, bloodthirsty paparazzi, cut-throat tabloids and complicated relationship dynamics with A-list celebrities (who may or may not be completely unhinged.)

Exit Through The Gift Shop (CScript) is about the arc of your life, from beginning to end, as experienced through the lens of trips to the museum, with each chapter moving forward one decade.

Blood of the Living (CScript), the first public demo for Blood of the Living, sequel to Fields of Asphodel is here! @chrysanthemumgames

Bridge Ices Before Road (CScript) Finding your place again in your old hometown might sound tough, but nothing is tougher than being an Olympic athlete. You have to juggle training along with all that, but you try not to let it get you down. After all, skating is your passion! @bridgeicesbeforeroadif

Fortuna Favours the Bold (CScript) is a low fantasy, high stakes, romance forward tale about self-discovery and hidden secrets. @fortunafavours

Being the only homicide detective around for miles, it’s up to you now to find out what exactly happened to your brother, why it happened, and who did it in A Bouquet of Chrysantemums (Twine). @abouquetofchrysanthemums

it's been a long, long time (CScript), a group of three find themselves reunited through their shared past, grappling with the haunting memories of a tragedy that shattered their bond. @haynahkho

In Spices of the Heart (CScript) you step into the shoes of an ambitious chef who has landed a job at a prestigious restaurant known for its innovation and artistry. @when-life-gives-you-lemons-if

Love to be Forgotten (RPG Maker MV) is a visual novel inspired by historical figures like Lucrezia Borgia and eerie vampire folklore, such as the tale of Jure Grando.

~ UPDATES ~

Keyframes (Ren’Py) released a patch update. @blankhouse

Shepherds of Haven (CScript) alpha preview has been updated. @shepherds-of-haven

One Knight Stand (CScript) released Chapter 2 Part 3. @oneknightstand-if

Weeping Gods (CScript) added new content to Chapter 2. @jcollinswrites

The In-Between (CScript) released Chapter 10. @dalekowrites

Space Captain (CScript) released updated their demo.

Hunter's Requiem (CScript) added new content to their demo. @huntersrequiem-if

The Inn Between (Ren’Py) released an extended demo. @catslilypad

When Stars Collide (Ren’Py) released Episode 1. @steamberrystudio

Made Marion released Will’s route. @velvet-cupcake-games

Wasteland Pony Express updated their Patreon demo. @katieaki

~ OTHER ~

The Halloween Sale 2024 on Itch.io is here!

Are you a Girls! Girls! Girls!? fan? You can now pre-order an artbook!

The Retro Adventurers podcast released Episode 9, where they have a conversation with Robin Raymond about the project Kingdom of the Seven Stones, a sprawling text/graphic adventure.

Studio Mansoon Games is hiring! Are you a Programmer or a Game artist? This is your chance! @allieebobo

~

As always, we apologize in advance for missing any update or release from the past week. We are only volunteers using their limited free time to find as much as we can - but sometimes things pass through the cracks.

If you think something should have been included in this week's zine but did not appear, please shoot us a message! We'll do our best to add it next week! And if you know oncoming news, add it here!

~ MAYBE YOU NEXT? ~

We did not get a submission this week. But if you have an idea for a short essay, or would like a special space to share your thoughts about IF and the community...

Shoot us an email!

~ HIGHLIGHT ON ~

A couple of games that we thought were cool.

Viatica by @fir-fireweed (Twine)

Wonderful prose, interesting worldbuilding, lovable characters! Chapter 10 was recently updated and it tore my heart out 10/10.

//submitted by Silly//

Do you have SALT? by BRXKEVN (Steam)

I wanted to tell you about the salt.

//submitted by Oreolek//

Your favourite game here?

Do you have a favourite game that deserves some highlighting?

An old or recent game that wowed you so much you spam it to everyone?

Tell us about it! And it might appear here!

H/T = Horror/Thriller H = Halloween themes S = Supernatural C = Creepy

~ RECOMMENDATIONS (COMPLETE) ~

It gets so lonely here (H/T) by ebi-hime (Ren’Py)

Yuri yandere visual novel, what else needs to be said? //submitted by Remm//

Deepest Grievances (H/T) by 17 confused villains (Ren’Py)

Equal parts murder mystery, eldritch horror, and office satire. This is a great adventure-style VN with a puzzle that made me gasp when I figured out the solution. //submitted by Natasha//

Hanna, We're Going to School (S) by Kastel (Twine)

You and your ghost friend go to school and everything goes sideways. My favorite piece on queerness and rage. //submitted by Emerson//

Last seen online (H/T + S) by qwook/sochinstudio (Three.js)

It is a very great and short game. It includes puzzles that are both satisfying and sad to solve. //submitted by anon//

Escape from Hell (S) by Nils Fagerburg (???)

Switch between monsters and use their abilities to help you escape! Elegant design with fun puzzles. //submitted by Sera//

Neighbourhood Necromancer (H/T) by Gavin Inglis (CScript)

Command the undead to take revenge on the suburbs! Perhaps you’ll start by taking over a convenience store.

Yûrei Station (H/T) by Atelier Sentô (Unity)

A girl takes a night train heading to an unknown destination…

Everyday Horrors (H) by Jacob Aberdevine (Bitsy)

A short Halloween game about fear and uncertainty.

Ghosterington Night (H/T) by Wade Clarke (Inform 7)

Danger-filled Ghosterington Manor appears atop the same cliff each year on Samhain night. It’s hidding four poems that are worth a fortune, and you, famous adventurer Jubilee Grief, are determined to find them.

Forever and Ever (H/T + H) by @PetricakeGames-IF (Ink)

Halloween night comes to a close and you're just settling in to get a good night's sleep when your son Lucas lets you know there are monsters in his room.

First Bite (S) by firstbitegames (???)

One night. Three (very hot) vampires. Make a deal with Death or die trying… (Alejandro Saab is in it so you know it’s good. Also very 18+.) //recommended by Dion [team]//

Well Tended (C) by danielle taphanel (Bitsy)

A short storybook simulator about wandering through death's shade-filled garden, following the spiraling path of poisonous plants to the center.

Witches x Warlocks (H + S) by Nifty Visuals (Unreal Engine)

Seven days until Halloween! Seven days until Fay Nightshade gets booted out of school for being the only witch unable to cast a single spell.

Eat me (C) by Chandler Grooverr (Inform 7)

In this castle, you'll eat or be eaten. May contain dairy, carnage, puzzles, nuts.

~ RECOMMENDATIONS (WIP) ~

We Wretched Creatures (H/T) by @darkfictionjude (Twine)

Who can you trust? What’s the truth behind your family? What are things that you see in the dark?

Sentience (H/T + S) by @sentience-if (Twine)

After a near-death experience at the hands of a crazed angel, you're suddenly thrust into a conspiracy surrounding a corpse-worshiping cult, divinely mad saints, and something buried far, far beneath the earth.

Fervency (H/T) by @fervency-if (CScript)

After getting cured from a vicious plague, you begin to feel some strange and unfamiliar cravings - namely a fervent desire for flesh or blood.

The Story of Sin (H/T + S) by @devilishmango (Twine)

You are the spawn of Satan and The Devil. You decide to defy them once again, and just like always… they aren’t exactly too happy about that. This leads them to decide to punish you one last time- only, this time, the punishment is deadly.

Reanimated Heart (H/T + S) by @doubledeadstudio (???)

Figure out how to build a life from scratch in a strange dimension where the sun never rises and supernatural creatures live freely.

Van Helsing (S) by @vanhelsing-if (Twine)

You are the last of a family of elite slayers. When you get tasked with slaying an ancient Entity in four months, will you remain the indomitable Van Helsing of legends or will this finally be your breaking point?

SLAUGHTER☆SQUAD (H/T) by @harlequinoccult (Twine)

For the most part, you’re a pretty normal mid-20-something year old who lives in a shitty apartment in the city. Well, except for one thing. Your ”Associate” Carter “Dollface” Abernathy. Who is a murderer.

Did we miss your favourite game? Don’t worry, there’s still a chance! Fill out this form and we will include it in our next Halloween issue.

WE LOVE TO HEAR FROM YOU ALL! WHETHER IT'S GOOD OR BAD, OR EVERYTHING IN BETWEEN...

Have something to say? Send us a message titled: Zine Letter!

As we end this issue, we would like to thank: Silly, Oreolek, Remm, Natasha, Emerson, Sera and the awesome anon!

For sending us their game recommendations and highlights!

And as always, huge thanks to all you readers who liked, shared, and commented on last week's issue! What might be tiny actions are huge support and motivators to us!

Thank you for cheering us on this journey!

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

We now have a Linktree! Accessing all of our links has never been easier.

And see you again next week, even more spooky!

BRIJ, DION, BEX, JEN

WHAT'S NEW IN IF? 2024-ISSUE 26

[doitforbangchan]

STRAYKIDS

Bang Chan

Waking up to Channie

Brat

Little Tease

Lee Know

For the long haul

ABANB ch18 alternate smut

Beside you

Changbin

It's not fair

Hyunjin

Jerking off to a pic of you

Never want to wake up

Partition

After party

Deity

Captiv(e)ate

Han

Cockwarming Jisung

Weather the Storm

Felix

Cloudy Day

Playing Favorites

Seungmin

Not laughing now

La petit mort

I.N

Please, Baby

Series

All Bark and No bite - completed

Ever Lovely - ongoing

ATEEZ

Hongjoong

Cross my heart

Mingi

I'd rather overdose

Anon list ❤️

🌙 🦙 🧖🏻‍♀️

requests are currently Closed ✨ Only until i catch up with my inbox

i can write almost anything except for : anything involving bodily fluids (some blood and cum are ok tho lol), nothing pedo or underage, nothing incest 🤗

i also write my reader as Afab/fem in all my works since it’s comfortable for me but would try gn if anyone asked for it 💕

if anyone wants something that i am uncomfortable writing i will let them know, also i write my requests in order as they appear so if you wait a little while that is why

Reblogs and comments are always appreciated 💕

Please do not copy or steal my content 😊

If you see any likes or follows by @cotton-candycloudz that’s my main page :)

All images used in my works are not my own, credit goes to the original sources!

Disclaimer: The names and faces used here are just that, names and faces, and in no way reflect the real people the characters were designed after. The views and actions of these characters do not reflect the real Stray Kids or Ateez in any way shape or form. This is all for fun let’s keep it that way please. 

[rashoumon-homo]

How useful would their Ability be in bed? (BSD)

Author’s Note: I’m back with another headcanons list! I was thinking about this in relation to bnha characters while falling asleep the other night and it got me thinking about bsd as well.

NSFW CONTENT AHEAD - PROCEED WITH CAUTION

(Organized from most to least useful)

Nikolai

► especially interesting for masturbation

► but also lots of possibilities for partnered/group sex

► just think: any body part, any location. It’s like extreme contortionism

► I actually wrote a fic where he uses his ability to eat out Fyodor while being able to watch his expression

Chuuya

► anti-gravity sex????

► imagine having sex in the air

► imagine him using his ability to use toys on you hands-free

► or subtly using his ability to fuck you with just the right amount of force

► also thinking of this art (NSFW at link!)

Akutagawa

► two words. rashoumon. bondage.

► best ability ever for bondage stuff

Atsushi

► primal-kink-havers rejoice!

► 100% his dick gets bigger when he half-transforms during sex

Poe

► can create a novel to have any kind of location

► there are a lot of possibilities for his ability tbh

Kunikida

► I guess he could make stuff?

► it feels more wasteful than just idk buying toys and stuff ahead of time

► overall not super useful

Tachihara

► I could see it being useful if you have like metal toys or something

► but I don’t really see a lot of ways he could use his ability in bed tbh

Tanizaki

► basically like Poe’s ability but it’s an illusion

► he can make you see anything

► but there’s not a lot of reason to do that, especially since he can’t make anything solid

Dazai

► unless you have an ability that would benefit from being neutralized, his power is pointless in bed

Sigma

► information exchange… during sex?

► genuinely can’t see how this would work out

Yosano

► maybe if you’re like an EXTREME masochist

► taking “la petite mort” to a literal level lmao

► but otherwise not useful

Fyodor

► actively unhelpful

► I think if his power activates during sex, you have bigger problems than how pleasurable it is

Ranpo

► no ability, so I’m not counting him

► though his super deduction would mean it’s impossible to surprise him so that sucks

Masterlist

Tag list: @suru1990 @little-miss-chaoss

If you want to join the taglist, fill out this form!

[itadorey]

𝐣𝐮𝐣𝐮𝐭𝐬𝐮 𝐤𝐚𝐢𝐬𝐞𝐧 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 .:**:.☆*.:｡.✿

━━━ fushiguro megumi

◉ [9:33 pm] ◉ apple of my eye -> six times megumi gets caught staring at you and the one time you get caught staring at him. ◉ [4:32 p.m.]

━━━ gojo satoru

◉ great company -> shoko lets something slip to gojo and nanami loses a whole lot of money. ◉ keeping the moon -> you contemplate gojo's existence on a roof, at night, alone (or so you think). ◉ it's gotta be fate! -> in which you argue with the school's golden boy (in your defense, you didn't know!) and then find yourself unable to avoid him no matter where you go. -> fun facts about the story! ◉ the man of your dreams -> in an attempt to distract gojo, yaga sends him on a quest to locate you; a missing member of the zenin clan with prophetic dreams. ◉ so young -> becoming a jujutsu sorcerer was never part of your plans, and neither was falling in love with gojo satoru. ◉ [4:35 pm] ◉ playing pretend -> gojo lies to shoko in order to win a bet and you're dragged along for the ride. ◉ the lesser of two (presumed) evils -> faced with the risk of your clan being dissolved, you're forced to choose a husband. you take a risk and settle on what you think is the lesser of two evils. (he's really not that bad once you get to know him). ◉ the road to falling in love -> a collection of moment where gojo finds himself falling harder and harder for you. (prequel to the lesser of two (presumed) evils). ◉ wingman for hire -> gojo offers to help you get the attention of your crush, but things don't turn out the way either of you expect ◉ [8:53 p.m.] ◉ lovestained -> you make out with gojo! ◉ you lookin'? -> (nsfw) gojo just wants to spice things up in the bedroom and make you feel good. ◉ [10:45 p.m.] ◉ the linkedin incident -> you get hit on by the cute barista at your favorite cafe and gojo simultaneously thinks it's awful but funny. ◉ bite of the night -> you just want to enjoy your halloween night, but vampire hunting always gets in the way. this night might be different though. ◉ the good (you), the bad (megumi), and the ugly (gojo) -> gojo takes you to meet megumi, only to end up regretting it when the younger boy immediately takes a liking to you. ◉ photographs & first kisses -> you have no clue how gojo managed to get that photograph of you, but what you do know is that you'll do anything to get it back. ◉ [4:34 p.m.] ◉ haunt me -> even after you leave the jujutsu world behind, gojo satoru finds himself unable to get over you. ◉ race (?) to the finish line -> he's insufferable (and wants to ask you out) and you're just trying to help him win the championship. f1 au

━━━ geto suguru

◉ the one you love -> geto doesn't know if you've been looking for him or not, but he does know that he can't look you in the eyes after your last mission together. ◉ all to you -> (nsfw.) moments between you and geto, and how you inevitably ended up in his bed. ◉ la petite mort -> (nsfw) your job as an investigative journalist leads you to infiltrate the time vessel association in search of a good article. but you get more than you bargained for when you catch the attention of geto suguru, the charismatic leader of of the organization that seems more like a cult.

━━━ nanami kento

◉ [6:32 p.m.] ◉ [5:56 p.m.]

━━━ itadori yuuji

◉ [7:39 p.m.]

[mabelstone]

La Petite Mort

hozier x f!reader

part four of lullabies <3 | part three | masterlist

cw: sex sex sex love making ❤️ no other warnings really, it's pretty gushy

word count: 2.6k

taglist: @princezty @somethinglikero @jimihendrixpopfigure @the-imperfectgirl-blog @l1nd3n xo

Hours later, the buzz of the alcohol had completely fled my system, leaving me with a residual fatigue and a love struck smile. It felt wrong, but simultaneously, nothing had ever felt so right or natural. Like the sense of deja vu that confirms you are exactly where you're supposed to be.

"Hey," he gently shook my arm from where I was sitting in a booth, almost unable to keep my eyes open. "You 'right?"

"Mhm," I grinned, fighting back a yawn. "And how are you, hotshot?"

"Overwhelmed," he huffed, extending his hand to me. He never enjoyed crowds despite their tendency to form around him everywhere he went. "Let's go home."

I let him lead me out, warmth flooding my cheeks at the simple gesture. The bite of the cold was sharper than earlier, my teeth instantly chattering. He, of course noticed immediately, shucking himself of his jacket, draping it over my shoulders.

"Andy," I shook my head trying to fight him off, but it was no use. "Now you're gonna get cold."

"I have at least three layers on at all times, the cold fears me," he joked, shoving his hands into his pockets.

"Thank you," I pouted at him, overwhelmed at such a small gesture. But it wasn't small to me. Everything Andy did was grand in my eyes. "So chivalrous."

"Well, you know me," he shrugged, stifling a grin of his own.

I started humming the chorus of tonights' song as we walked, unable to remember any of the words other than imagine being loved by me, and the beautiful melody that was sure to hang around for days.

"Don't do that," he laughed with embarrassment, slinging his arm around my shoulders and pulling me close.

"Why not? It's a beautiful song, after all," I shrugged, unable to hide my smile that stretched from ear to ear. "And wasn't I the inspiration?" I teased, and it was now his turn to glow red.

"Mhm," he grinned, eyes focused on the road ahead of us. We were nearly back at the car, and the adrenaline was beginning to flood my bloodstream. "That's why you liked it, 'uh?."

"So good," I agreed, walking a bit closer to him that now our arms bumped occasionally. "Did you mean what you said? In the song?"

"'Course I did," he chuckled, unlocking the car and opening my door for me. He even helped me buckle my seatbelt. "Don't worry, it's just a song."

He climbed into his side now, the faintest pink tint to his cheeks, but otherwise, unbothered. I, on the other hand, was trying to get my stupid heart to slow back to normal.

I was fighting the urge to climb over into his lap and beg him to do all the things he'd been imagining. Instead we drove in what would appear to be comfortable silence from an outsiders' perspective. Obviously I didn't know what he was thinking, but I can promise you there was no trace of innocence in my thoughts. The air in the car was thick with desire, leaving me on the verge of choking on the tension.

We exchanged few words on the drive back to his, stealing bashful glances here and there. When the car stilled to a park, I couldn't keep my mouth shut any longer.

"Andrew?" My heart continued to pound in my ears, his brows raising slightly in encouragement. "I want you," I confessed.

He turned to face me and I could see his quickening pulse through the thin skin of his neck. He swallowed thickly, pupils blown so wide I could scarcely see any green.

His gaze flitted between my lips and my eyes, and I'm sure I too was all pupil at this point. I couldn't help myself, leaning over the centre console to feel his lips on mine. My eyes fluttered shut, as did his, and I swear something inside of me had come alive for the first time in my life.

He was better than I had ever imagined.

Lips warm and soft, adding the perfect amount of pressure that made me crave more and more. His hand slipped up the back of my head, cradling its entirety in his palm.

He pulled back slowly, his hand still at the base of my skull. His lips were plump and looked absolutely delicious, my heart aching at the loss of contact.

"I want you, you know that," his voice was lower than before, our faces still close enough that I could feel the tickle of his breath ghosting my lips. "But you just got out of such a long relationship."

"You've treated me better these past few weeks than he did in six years," I reached my hand up to cup his face. His skin was warm and soft, the scratch of his stubble in my palm pulling me back down to Earth, reminding me that this wasn't just another daydream of mine. "Please, kiss me."

And he did, pulling me in as close as the confinement of his car would allow. It felt like coming up for air after holding your breath under water, like the relief you get when a siren finally stops blaring. His scent, his warmth, his gentle breaths exhaled through his nose, mingling with mine as we moved in synchronicity, as if we'd rehearsed this a million times. I'm starting to suspect he must have been having similar dreams of me.

I pulled away this time, giving him my best doe eyes through hooded lids as I suggested, "shall we go inside?"

Without a second thought, Andy was out of the car, opening my door for me. Within moments, our lips were connected again, my arms draped around his neck, his hands quick to grab my waist. He lead me into his house, our mouths moving fast, passion coursing through our veins like electricity. I squealed in surprise when he lifted me, wrapping my legs around his waist as he carried me up the stairs. We were a mess of giggles and laboured breathing, bumping into walls, and desperately grabbing at one another.

Despite the desperation in our actions, he softly laid me onto his bed, crawling in between my thighs before kissing me again. I ran my hands up the sides of his torso, feeling him shudder slightly under my touch.

I could feel his hard on digging into my thigh, and suddenly my clothes were the biggest inconvenience known to man. "Show me, Andy," I breathed in between kisses, his lips now on my neck, my knickers well on their way to being drenched. "All the things you've been wanting to do to me."

He let out a deep, guttural sound somewhere between a strangled moan and a whine. He reluctantly pulled himself from me, slipping his shoes off in two fluid movements. He knelt before me, my entire ankle easily in the grip of his hand. He unbuckled my heels, slipping them off with a kiss to each of my calves. He slowly ran his hands up my legs, planting a trail of kisses upon each inch of skin he touched, the heat in my core beginning to boil.

He looked up through his head of curls, eyes dark and hungry. "You sure you want this, darlin'?"

I nodded desperately, hands instantly finding their way into his hair to bring his lips to mine again. His tongue prodded at my bottom lip and I let him in my mouth without hesitation, allowing him to explore. This only caused my desire for his tongue elsewhere to grow insurmountably.

All of my senses came to life when I felt his hand moving toward my inner thigh, opening my legs wide for him to grant him full access. His fingers made their way to my core, a soft groan fleeting from his lips. "Fuck," he breathed against my lips, slipping a ridiculously long finger inside of me with ease. I moaned into his mouth, one of my hands reaching down to grab his wrist, encouraging him to insert another. He did, curling his fingers with such precision that if I my brain weren't staticky from the feeling, I'd question how many lovers he'd had. He continued to pump his fingers in and out of me, kissing my neck as he did so, eyes glued to my face as if he were memorising every expression he pulled from me.

"Need to feel you," I choked out breathlessly, desperately cupping his face. "Please."

He smiled wickedly, kissing my lips once more before pulling his fingers out, dipping them straight into his mouth. My jaw nearly detached from my face at the gesture, my stomach flipping harder than ever. I watched in awe as he pulled his shirt off, his pants soon to follow, absolutely shocked that the shy, awkward, nerdy Andrew I thought I knew did not exist within these walls. I could see the outline of his cock through his boxers, swallowing hard. How on Earth was that going to fit? I sat up to rid myself of my dress, allowing it to pool around my ankles as he watched on, cock twitching beneath the thin cotton.

I made my way to him, helping him remove the last bit of clothing keeping us apart, eyes nearly bulging out of my head when I saw him. All of him. He may be the most beautiful man I have ever seen.

His hands quickly found my face, reeling me in with those lips once more before laying me on the bed again. His eyes searched mine again for any doubt, not finding any, but something else. "You okay?"

"Yes, just preparing," I laughed, only half joking.

"You're okay, you can take it," he kissed my cheek softly, lining himself up with my entrance. I gasped at the sharp sting of the stretch, holding my breath briefly. He halted all movement, no doubt used to this happening. "Tell me when, baby."

I rested my hands on his shoulders, taking a deep breath before nodding. He slowly slipped the rest of his length in, our beautiful harmonisation of moans filling the air.

It was only painful for a moment before I was practically begging for more. He was as long and thick as you’d expect, but God, nothing could have prepared me. He began to form a steady rhythm, thrusting in and out of me while I whined under his touch.

To feel his body weight on mine, his warmth, his scent, his love - I had ascended from my human form. I caved, begging him for more, begging him to fuck me how he wanted to.

He captured my lips with his mid way through a thrust, his cock slamming into that spot that made my brain fuzzy. I dug my nails into his shoulders, gasping into his mouth, “just like that.”

He obliged, one of his hands steadying himself with the headboard, the other cupping the back of my head. I wondered why, until he really found his rhythm.

With each delicious thrust, he would effectively hit my g-spot, making me weak as jelly under him, barely able to form words. My head was hitting his hand with the sheer force of each thrust, and I’m sure the thought of him protecting my skull would make me swoon if I weren’t on the brink of tears, producing noises I didn’t know I was capable of.

“Andy, Andy,” I chanted his name breathlessly, unable to even open my eyes as pleasure cradled my entire being. I’d never heard my voice this desperate ever, to the point that I had no autonomy over my words and vocality, like my soul was speaking without getting confirmation from my brain first. “You- feel- so- good,” I was near crying between each thrust, my mouth completely dry from all the panting.

“You feel good too, darlin’,” he grinned, removing his hand from the bed head and dropping it down to my clit. “So fuckin’ good.”

My jaw went slack, no coherent words falling from my mouth, just rhapsodies of praise in the form of whimpers and laboured breaths.

"Want you to cum for me," he breathed, his thrusts growing sloppy ever so slightly.

"Keep going," I barely got the words out, the coil in my stomach tightening as he dragged me closer to the edge with every word, every thrust, every skilled dance of his fingers over my clit. "Andy," I warned loudly, the high pitch of my tone sounding foreign to my ears, unsure if had even fallen from my tongue. "Oh, my God, I'm gonna-"

Within an instant, I unravelled beneath his touch, moaning a string of curses I couldn't even hear as the static in my mind grew overwhelming. I shook uncontrollably, every muscle of mine growing limp yet tensing and spasming at the same time. My back arched and my toes curled, crescent moon shapes from my fingernails marking his beautiful skin; a reminder to us both of how euphoric he had made me feel. My orgasm rippled through me like waves in a storm, pummelling me over and over as I couldn't stop my eyes from rolling into the back of my head, unable to open them, unable to close my mouth as a slurry of cries dripped from my soul. Unsure of what came over me, I begged, “please cum in me,” wanting nothing more than to feel every ounce of his loving.

When I finally came back down to Earth, the waves crashed into him, the most angelic sounds flooding the four walls we were confined to. Overstimulation wracked my bones, panting into his mouth as he rode out the rest of his high, a clash of tongue and teeth as he kissed me once more. He pumped into me a few more unsteady times, his arms shaking as they struggled to hold his weight any longer.

He pulled out of me slowly, the loss of contact leaving me with a hollow feeling, immediately clinging to him the second his head hit the pillow beside me.

“Andrew,” I breathed in disbelief, titling my head to see the tired smile on his face. “I don’t even have words.”

“Could say the same to you!” He sighed, content with his arm around me, our bodies gently slowing back to normal. “What an angel.”

You are the angel, is what I wanted to say. Instead, I basked in his warmth, his scent flooding my senses as my soul unwillingly reconnected with my body.

“Write a song about this, would ya?” I laughed against his skin, tracing shapes into his chest, feeling like I was the main character in a cheesy rom-com.

“Way ahead of ya, love,” he grinned back, pressing a soft kiss to the top of my head. “Wanna have a shower? Or is that too much?”

I looked up at him with furrowed brows and pursed lips. “Andrew. There’s a chance you just knocked me up. No, showering together is not too much.”

“Don’t even joke about that,” he groaned, abruptly rolling out of bed, picking me up bridal style and carrying me to the bathroom. He laughed devilishly at the squeak he elicited from me, kissing my face while I smiled and giggled like a fool.

Fuck.

He towered over me, the beads of water dripping from his hair onto me. He looked beautiful, contented in serenity, similar to how I was feeling, I'm sure. He lathered my body in soapy suds, nothing remotely sexual in the gesture. I did the same for him, enveloped in the warmth of his skin, acclimated to the same temperature of the water. If this were my last moment on Earth, I would die happy. Andrew had a way of making me forget every bad moment of my life. Every poor decision, every tear cried for a man who only thought about himself. Surely, this was too soon to be labelled as love. But it sure felt like it.

"You are so beautiful."

i hope u liked it if u didn't tell me if u did leave requests of something you'd like to see in this next xo and i'm aware of all the run on sentences, i'm sorry if that makes it difficult to read. i will not shut up! even in text

[thepersonperson]

I can't believe it's genuinely canon that Geto was jealous of Sukuna being the one to fill up Gojo.

I know Gojo reassured him but we saw he thought of Toji as the last person who satisfied him. No wonder Geto ended up on a crusade against no cursed energy monkeys.

Geto's insecurity with his place in Gojo's life really was his downfall. (On top of not having access to Karl Marx.) He kind of just assumed that Gojo being in a league of his own after awakening meant they could never be together as The Strongest duo.

That insecurity was so pervasive he initiated their break up by objectifying Gojo for his strength. And he later assumed Gojo stopped loving him too.

But you might be onto something with Geto's jealousy starting with Toji. Though he didn't see Gojo awaken (which was essentially "la petite mort" or the little death), Geto was around to hear Gojo call Toji アンタ (Anta). And that particular usage of Anta was really weird.

(Yeah this is one of those asks that poked my neuroses in just the right way.)

-Content Warning: Brief discussion of teenage sexuality.

-Mangareader(.)to for the raws.

-TCBscans for everything but Vol 0.

(Click images for captions/citations.)

Gojo's You Pronouns

I kind of lost my mind over Sukuna's you pronoun usage if you want to know why this kind of thing matters to me. Thankfully, Gojo's you pronoun usage is much more straightforward. Which is why the use of Anta for Toji sticks out a lot.

Gojo usually uses オマエ (Omae—masculine, informal, between peers or to look down on the addressee) for absolutely everyone. Friends, enemies? Doesn't matter, he's using Omae. It's either that, 君 (Kimi—affectionate towards juniors) with his students, or he avoids using you pronouns to be polite. He has only deviated from this pattern with two people—Uraume with てまえ (Temee—hostile and offensive), and Anta with Toji.

Anta is a contraction of あなた (Anata) and both are used in the exact same way. It's an informal you mostly used by people learning Japanese since normal use suggests a familiar and casual relationship with the addressee. That can be rude depending on the context. In the context of love, it's a romantic thing, colloquially called the wife pronoun as its often used by a wife to her husband. The only real difference between Anta and Anata is the indication of class. As a contraction, Anta is seen as more low class/uneducated than Anata.

So what did Gojo mean by his use of Anta with Toji?

Since Anta can indicate the speaker is casual/friendly, uneducated, or flirting, we'll have to infer what Gojo meant with context. Sometimes, it's easier to look at how other characters use this pronoun to get an idea.

For example, Hanami uses Anata for everyone which is why there's nothing flirtatious about them using it. This is just how they talk in general and they aren't singling anyone out in a special way.

A male character who uses Anta for most people in the way Hanami uses Anata is Ike from Fire Emblem. (I'm so sorry this is the only guy I can think of using this as a default you pronoun and he's from a completely different series.)

Ike uses Ore (masculine, informal) as his personal pronoun and he was raised as a mercenary with no formal education, so the Anta in context is more of him being from the lower class and casual. Anta is also less masculine than Omae, so this is also gives Ike that soft edge to his roughness that everyone loves him for. When he uses Anta while speaking to nobles in Path of Radiance Ch 14, they find it extremely offensive and get pissed because they perceive it as him not showing enough respect. (And he does call them out for being dickholes using Anta which makes them even angrier.)

If I recall correctly, (sorry I only really remember Zelgius and Sephiran's pronouns because it subtly confirms them a queer couple), Ike uses Omae (or Temee? The fudging accessible JP transcript went poof.) for the Black Knight and no one else. The Black Knight killed his father and Ike hates him for this. This Omae is not friendly, it's hostile.

I use this example because it shows how for one character these pronouns mean one thing and other characters it the polar opposite. Gojo uses Omae to be friendly, Ike uses Omae to be hostile. Ike uses Anta to be friendly, Gojo uses Anta to...

I don't know.

I don't know why Gojo uses Anta for Toji. It's really fudging odd and he never uses it again or for anyone else. Gojo for Toji uses Anta then Omae then Anta.

First it's confusion over being stabbed. I think in this context it means more of "hey there, buddy" in the way someone might try to talk down an aggressive person by trying to be chummy.

At the time, it probably told Geto something was really wrong because Gojo never uses that pronoun.

The Omae he swaps to is normal Gojo usage. He explains how Toji screwed up with killing him in the way he's been talking at all the assassins that came after Riko.

But internally? Toji remains Anta. This is weird since Gojo usually just sticks to Omae or some kind of nomer when he doesn't know people's names.

Leading up to this internal monologue, Gojo is not angry. He's extremely zen. So much so that he apologizes to Riko for not being upset she was just murdered. This makes me think the Anta isn’t meant to be disparaging.

Anta has always been less harsh than Omae in comparison. It can imply a distance between the speaker and addressee or it can suggest they're very close.

I can't tell if Gojo is trying to express a unique kinship he feels with Toji or if he's putting Toji on a pedestal of strength he idolizes and considers himself separate from. Perhaps it's both and this confusion is intentional. Gojo is a teenager figuring himself out in the most traumatic way possible here. My point is that this use of Anta indicates Gojo feels some kind of way about Toji he doesn't for anyone else.

Toji is very special to Gojo.

Most people are aware of Gojo picking up certain habits and speech patterns because Geto. Rereading JJK after learning about Gojo's history with Geto turns a lot of his silly quirks into things that are really depressing.

Toji is second to Geto in terms of influencing adult Gojo's behavior I think. Not just in the paranoia he experiences of being made vulnerable again, but some of his speaking mannerisms. Gojo asking for last words before he kills someone started with Toji.

He has that same empty look when he does it each time too. This doesn't seem to be like him mourning Toji in the way he mourns Geto by speaking in the way his beloved suggested. It's like he's reliving trauma. And dear lord did Toji traumatize Gojo. The kind of terror in the faces teenage Gojo makes while being hunted and killed are never made again.

But despite this, Gojo as an adult seems to look back on this awful experience fondly sometimes. When Sukuna starts to make him think he's about to lose, Gojo smiles as he recalls this feeling.

Satisfaction? Being killed by this guy was satisfying? I suppose it makes sense, this temporary death did awaken him to immense power that made him feel amazing. In that sense, Toji was Gojo's greatest teacher. And as a teacher, Gojo molds a philosophy from that experience and tries to imbue it on his students in a less traumatic fashion. (I say tries because this still killed Yuji by accident and caused a lot of unneeded stress for the second years in Vol 0.)

As you can see here, Gojo thinks this way because he did die alone despite having strong allies. And because his death made him stronger, he thinks growth can be triggered in a similar fashion. Geto calls him out on how fudged up this “tough love” is.

Gray morally aside, these beliefs and actions are because of Toji. A lot of what Gojo is as an adult is one giant unhealthy coping mechanism for Toji, fondness included.

When Nanami calls Gojo a Jujutsu Pervert he isn't wrong. Gojo is a freak that gets off to fighting in part due to Toji. It's like this horrible little ball of fear, denial, and horny with him. Thinking about Toji being the last person who satisfied him in that way over Geto isn't out of character. The types of blissed out faces he made during that fight do pop up in the Sukuna fight.

We also have to acknowledge that Toji is at the got dang afterlife airport with everyone else. For some reason, despite all the pain he inflicted, Gojo admires him on a similar level to the people who didn't want him dead.

Toji is a lot of Gojo's firsts. His first fear, his first death, his first awakening, and most importantly his first exposure to revolution. Toji is the first person Gojo met that escaped the bindings of Jujutsu Society and obtained freedom. He defied the Zenins and started a life outside of them. His pride and grief brought him back, but for a few years he was the impossible success story.

Though Geto heavily influenced Gojo’s morality, Toji was the basis for Gojo’s revolutionary ideas. It shows in how he trains his students and values the strength of non-sorcerers. He correctly identifies that Toji only wound up this way because of Jujutsu Society, mainly the higher ups, and vows to do something about it.

Is this to prevent another Toji because of fear? Is this how Gojo honors his memory too? Both, probably. Toji basically asked Gojo to be the godfather to Megumi, his son named Blessing, and prevent him from being raised a Zenin. In other words, he gave Gojo his blessing to do better than him and break that awful generational cycle. Gojo has taken that very seriously.

Megumi knows next to nothing about the Zenins until he's made the head after Naobito dies and Maki massacres them. The fact that Megumi being made the head ultimately triggered Maki's massacre of the Zenin Clan is like Toji getting exactly what he wanted from beyond the grave. A mini revolution made possible with Gojo laying the groundwork by providing a space where Maki can exist without hate.

Geto's Jealousy

As Geto was spiralling, he probably thought back on Gojo’s use of Anta with Toji and got a little jealous. After all, Toji was the reason Gojo grew so much as a sorcerer instead of him.

Can you imagine? The love of your life keeps telling you that together you're The Strongest and that's why he's with you. But he goes off with some dude after calling him something he's never called you and comes back a god. He grew more in those few minutes with this rando than the years he spent with you combined. Inadequate wouldn't even scratch the surface of that feeling.

It was always a one-sided admiration—Toji was a bum who leeched off women as you would expect any straight dude would coming from an immensely misogynistic household. He killed children for money and had beef with an 8 year old after looking at him once. But Geto still might've been envious that a non-sorcerer did more for Gojo’s growth than any sorcerer.

Geto’s Coping

The aftermath of Toji put a strain on their relationship in more ways than one. First and foremost, it made Gojo The Strongest. As I said earlier, this caused Geto to become insecure with his place in Gojo’s life. But what I didn’t mention is that the higher ups exploiting this newfound strength is why this never got addressed until it was way too late.

As shown here Geto’s condition gets worse because not only is he mentally isolated from Gojo, but physically as well. A horrible little detail—changes in weight can be very gradual. If you're with someone all the time, you'll likely never notice it. Gojo was kept separate from Geto for so long that this difference was noticeable.

They fall out of sync because Jujutsu Society has decided that their labor is more valuable apart. The problem here exploitation. Toji made it extremely clear to both Gojo and Geto that was the problem. Geto unfortunately came to the wrong conclusion on how to deal with it.

Tags from @nyan-bynary on this post sum up my feelings on this nicely.

#OK OK I HAVE BEEN THINKING ABOUT HOW GETO GOT RADICALIZED BASICALLY INTO FASCISM BC HE ENDED UP BLAMING THE WRONG CLASS FOR THEIR OPPRESSION #LIKE THIS IS SO VERY MUCH THE CASE WITH LIKE RANDO WHITE LIBERTARIANS AND SHIT IRL TOO LIKE THEY NOTICE SHIT SUCKS #BUT THEY END UP BLAMING THE EVEN MORE OPPRESSED PEOPLE INSTEAD OF TAKING THAT ANGER UPWARDS TOWARDS THE ACTUAL PPL DESTROYING EVERYTHING

#like geto saw a man who was so fucking abused and treated like shit by his clan that he basically ran away and started a new life #where he resents the people who were oppressing him but he still had to work for similar people to make ends meet #and in doing so was made a pawn for the internal power struggles of the higher ups #which hurt the other people lower in the hierarchy as well including gojo and geto #but instead of seeing the hand that guided everything here he blamed the toy in the hand instead #devoting himself to destroy every single toy which unknowingly included himself and the sorcerers he wanted to protect so badly as well

#like in his efforts to gather sorcerers he ended up doing a better more inclusive job of gathering sorceres from EVERYWHERE he could reach #he had the true potential to make real grassroot connections with fellow oppressed people but he was misguided on who the target should be #like it's ironic that the only black sorcerer that we see is in the group of the guy that calls non sorceres 'monkeys' #because it says something about him that his problem actually wasn't racism (against non-sorcerers) #it was the high risk terrible lifestyle forced upon every sorcerer in the name of non-sorcerers #WHO DON'T EVEN KNOW YOU GUYS EXIST AND ARE BEING EXPLOITED LIKE THIS IN THEIR NAME IN THE FIRST PLACE MAYBE TRY TO FIX THAT AT SOME POINT???

#it's all so sad bc the moment he chose the wrong people to blame his fate was sealed and it sucks bc he could've done real good things #gojo was the closest to doing anything remotely revolutionary but he went the too peaceful route and it cost him everything #he didn't organize or protest with enough destruction or maybe he thought he couldn't until it became a last resort

#like I find it funny that despite everything gojo wanted to do bc his form of resistance was so lax he ended up alienating hakari and kirara #and the elders. the divide and conquerers that they were used it to expel them from the school #just ahhhhhhhhh so many thoughts I wish they could've done more I wish I wish I wish

In that post, I joked that Karl Marx could’ve saved Geto, but that wasn’t really a joke. Trying to address exploitation without the theoretical framework to be productive about it is like swimming against an ocean riptide at night. You can recognize that you’re drowning, but not knowing where the shore is or that you need to swim at an angle instead of directly against the current dooms you.

The really sad thing is that Geto never realized that non-sorcerers were exploited just like him. Nanami worked directly alongside them and realized their exploitation was one in the same.

He realized that this exploitation was a systemic issue. Gojo realized that those in power were responsible for enforcing it. Both of them lacked the drive to be aggressive about that in the way Geto was. Together, the 3 of them really could’ve unionized to obtain the work-life balance they desperately needed.

But that was never going to happen. The higher ups isolated them until their communication skills and therefore relationships deteriorated alongside their mental states. (Notice how even outside of Jujustu Nanami has no friends. He's just as alone as those two.)

Geto's Love

I don’t think Geto ever learned how to love properly after Toji in a very similar vein to Gojo. Though he more outwardly shows affection to his family, there’s this sense of distance he has between them as a cult leader. His children call him Master and do not take his last name. He’s worshiped as a figurehead and for his beauty. And no one really understands him in the way Gojo used to.

And it must also be noted that the anguish from his family and daughters at his possession did not cause his body to stir. Only Gojo calling his name did.

It's not that Geto doesn't love his family, he just loves Gojo more despite having spent less time with him. (10 years with his family vs 3 years with Gojo.) Even Geto himself says that his family isn’t enough for him to be truly happy.

A world where sorcerers are not exploited is what he thinks will fix this. He wants this for himself, his family, and Gojo. Especially Gojo.

Their breakup was caused by Gojo being exploited more than anyone else. Geto has always objected to that. A world of only sorcerers hypothetically gets rid of the labor exploitation Geto hates for every sorcerer. And it also creates a world where Gojo doesn't need to be The Strongest. It's a world where instead of being overworked, Gojo will have all the time in the world for Geto.

This love Geto holds for Gojo underlies his actions. Him setting this ridiculous plan into motion on December 24th is a grandiose romantic gesture. You can feel the resentment and the longing. He tried to fill the Gojo hole in his heart with a new family and hatred only to fail.

Gojo reciprocated. He always did. But neither of them realized the love was mutual until both of them were dead because work came first.

So yeah anon, Geto was jealous. Both Toji and Sukuna got to know Gojo in ways he couldn’t because being an enemy of Gojo ironically gives them more direct attention from him since that’s a part of work.

Jujustu Society vs Queerness

Even if Gojo and Geto realized their love before everything went to hell, I'm not sure if they would've acted on it due to societal stigma.

Like @nyan-bynary mentioned, Kiara's transness is something the higher ups no doubt rejected. The type of conservatism modern Japan is under does not embrace the open queerness of the past that was especially prevalent during the Heian Era, you know the Jujutsu Golden Age. In a reflection of these politics, the Zenins embody the type of sexual hierarchy wanted by the elders—men run everything and women have children. Even though Hakari and Kiara are a straight couple, they're unable to have children together which is rebellion in of itself. Why Gojo didn't do more for them is kind of baffling.

To be fair, Gojo kind of sucks at sticking up against injustices like this. Hakari and Kiara aren't the only failed in this way. When Geto is verbally discriminatory towards Maki, Gojo doesn't refute his beliefs, Yuta does.

This is honestly, pretty fudged up. Gojo just lets Geto be horrible and offers a weak "don't do that" as a response instead of arguing for Maki's personhood. And we know for a fact he is strong enough to do something and be taken seriously. After all, he did threaten the elders to protect Yuta's life. He didn't stop Geto until he became a large-scale physical threat. For some reason, that's the only type of discrimination Gojo will act on—violent acts that will result in death.

I think this is because Geto told him he needed a really good reason to kill other humans before he snapped. It took a lot of convincing for Gojo to slaughter the higher ups as the result of this. His inaction here could also stem from Gojo being so used to dehumanization that he hardly recognizes it as a problem. But Gojo did force Nanami to address Yuji as a human child instead of Sukuna's Vessel later, so perhaps he reflected on this exchange and tried to do better. (Despite allowing everyone else from Kyoto to be weird about Yuji.)

Regardless, it's this passive mentality when it comes to non-violent discrimination that makes me think Gojo wouldn't have acted on his feelings for Geto.

There's probably a lot of pressure on Gojo to have progeny of some kind (aka be straight and have babies). I do find it a bit odd we've seen nothing of his Clan to the point that Megumi also knows nothing about it. (Though this was probably to spare him the politics drama for the enjoyment of his youth.) They did spoil Gojo rotten, but that doesn't mean backwards societal expectations weren't thrust on him from birth. He was raised to be a living weapon you know. Suppression of his own queerness was likely a part of that education.

And though Gojo is pretty rebellious when it comes to challenging the status quo, like antagonizing those older than him and letting those younger than him speak freely around him, he still has some toxic ideas from his youth he hasn't let go of. He prioritizes his strength over bonds and allows himself to be exploited while trying to make sure his students don't wind up like him...by having them prioritize strength through pushing their limits.

In other words, Gojo would likely just repress his feelings for Geto if it meant obtaining his goals. A queer relationship would be used against him by the higher ups since it rebels against the expectations of Jujustu Society in a way he hasn't pushed hard against. (I'm so sorry Hakari and Kiara.)

With that being said, it's not all that surprising that a lot of the curse users are openly queer. They've freed themselves of exploitation and expectations. Their genders and sexualities are theirs to control. None of them are shy about it. Larue openly loves Geto, Sukuna will kill you for not respecting his disinterest in romance and sex, Uraume will kill you for not respecting that, Kashimo will hit on a man as he's being killed by him, Kenjaku is Kenjaku.

I don't think it's a coincidence that Gojo is at his horniest when he's fighting other men. It's like the one space where he's allowed to engage that side of himself without fear of repercussion because at the end of the day, one of them is going to be dead anyways. (His flirting with Nanami when they're alone together not included.) Sometimes queer people want their love with violence because it’s the only way they can have their sexuality without guilt. That punishment absolves the sin.

Jujutsu Society as it stands is not compatible with queerness. Gojo has a really fudged up way of expressing his attraction to men as the result of this. And if you ask me, I think Toji is the one who really got his wires crossed.

[vidavalor]

Stars Crashing Down

For @tickety-bippity-boo and @thavron, who wanted thoughts on why the same musical cues play when Death spreads its wings as during the Jesus scene and the 2.06 kiss.

The questions posed to me were: What's the deal with Crowley and Death? Is Crowley Death? and the answer is... well, um... kinda... just read it and you'll see what I mean. 😉

You have sought The Black Knight, foolish one, but you have found...

...your death.

So, you do not have to read it first but, over here, I talked about the connections between why the same musical cues are playing in the 2.06 kiss scene and the Jesus scene. What we're going to do here is expand those thoughts out to include Death spreading its wings having the same musical cues and talk about why that might be.

The 2.06 kiss/Golgotha scene meta talks about how the show is using different meanings of the word passion and how Golgotha is contrasting romantic passion with the suffering and death of Christ, aka The Passion of the Christ. This isn't the only instance of a comparison between destruction and death and passion in the series. Looking at more of them will probably help clear up what's going on with the parallels between Death and Crowley (and Aziraphale) in the series, so, that's what I'll be doing here and you can let me know what you think, yeah?

Passion is, by far, not the only word that has such wildly, contrasting definitions, but it's one of the strongest examples of it because of how its definitions illustrate how people make comparisons between the experience of erotic love with the agony of suffering and death. The word is an example of something we could call a destructive sexual metaphor or sex and death.

Throughout history, humans have sought words to explain the experience of sex and many different common metaphors have arisen from this. Crowley and Aziraphale, for instance, also have a whole thing about one of the other most common ones in the arts, which is the sea. Linguistically-speaking, though, the most common ones have always been death and destruction. Why?

Well, some people see an orgasm as a rebirth of sorts and the closest thing a person experiences to death while still remaining alive. Both sex and death come with a sense of a lack of control. They are on the opposite ends of a spectrum when it comes to experience, with one being an example of intense pleasure while the other being possibly painful and an ending from which you do not return. This draws contrasts between them. Similarly, something being destroyed-- like a crumbling building, say-- is seen as metaphoric for the feeling of coming apart that can accompany an orgasm.

As a result, across many languages, there is a metric fuckton of linguistic overlap between words related to death, destruction and violence and words related to love and sex. The French phrase that means an orgasm, for instance, is la petite mort which, when literally translated means the little death. When Hozier sings the song that is on Crowley's playlist and offers his life in exchange for "that deathless death," the "deathless death" in question is an orgasm. He is using death as a metaphor for the sexual pleasure about which he is singing, which is currently one of the most well-known examples of sex and death/destructive sexual metaphor in modern music, if nowhere near the only one.

If you start thinking about slang words for sex, I'd wager quite a few of them are going to fall into the category of a destructive sexual metaphor because they're also words related to a sense of destruction. Bang. Smash. Wrecked. Nailed... Would you sleep with him? Yeah, I'd hit that... Even puppy love is destructive sexual metaphor, as it's a pash (short for passion) or a crush. The word that we use to say we have a little thing for someone-- a crush-- is the same word we use to say someone was killed within the rubble of a bombed building. Both a little disturbing and quite interesting, right?

If you've ever written or read erotica that was at least purporting to be a little literary 😉, you know that there's usually a lot of writhing and thrashing involved-- words that are originally rooted in flailing around in pain that are being used to describe how the body moves in the midst of sexual pleasure. These words, too, are a form of destructive sexual metaphor.

As anyone who has gotten back from seeing Deadpool and Wolverine improve the sales of Hondas for the foreseeable future can tell you, using violence and destruction as a metaphor for sex is not going anywhere. It's not new-- it's actually very, very, very old. How old, you say?

Well, how's this for homoeroticism: the word weapon comes from the Old English waepen, which was a word meaning penis, you guys. Dudes literally invented swords and the like to kill each other and then went 'this is just like my dick' to a point that they just called them the same fucking word. 😂

It's a truth universally acknowledged that nearly all Good Omens fans have seen Our Flag Means Death-- a tv show whose title is an example of sex and death happening, let alone the rest of the show. This also means you've all seen the most blatant example of destructive sexual metaphor on screen maybe ever and, if you have seen OFMD, you already know exactly what scene I'm going to say... 😂

It does not take much to infer that, perhaps, Stede's sword was standing in here-- so, was metaphorical for-- his cock and what Ed really desired here was to get done into the following Tuesday. The sword is a very overt metaphor for penetrative sex. This is what very blatant, destructive sexual metaphor looks like. More subtle ones exist-- it would be hard for them not to, by comparison lol-- but this is it a nutshell.

Ok, I can hear you saying: alright, I love the sadly departed queer pirate show, Vida, but what does this have to do with Good Omens?

As we'll see, Crowley and Aziraphale are fucking obsessed with death and destruction as a sexual metaphor, that's what, and sex-and-death is a theme of Good Omens.

Crowley and Aziraphale are supposed to be hereditary enemies. For thousands of years, when they've been in a place where someone could overhear them, they've had to sound like they dislike one another. To sound like a good angel and a bad demon, there needs to be talk of being on opposite sides of what is ultimately supposed to be a large-scale military conflict. Heaven and Hell are places of violence and destruction that are full of talk of war and Armageddon, right?

As we'll look at, you can use those words of death, violence and destruction to mean sexually euphemistic or, depending on the word, even romantic things... which is what Crowley and Aziraphale do.

Crowley and Aziraphale's language exists to mask their speech in public but the way they use it is to take those words of aggression and use them as flirtation. They're wonderful dorks who get off on seeing how cleverly they can wordplay each other into bed. Their little birdsong mating dance-- whether in public or private-- involves a ton of sex and death and destructive sexual metaphors. I've picked out a few of what I think are great examples but this is in no way all of them.

Receipts time. 😉

In 1.01, a drunk Crowley and Aziraphale are, on a surface level, talking about the destructive devastation that will happen to Earth when Armageddon happens. In reality, Armageddon here is a metaphor for a top notch time in bed. It's the end of the world so it's an irresistible metaphor for a really, really, good end, if ya get me.

Crowley flirts with Aziraphale with a bit of destructive sexual metaphor that is actually made even funnier retrospectively by 2.01's Before the Beginning scene and that's this bit here: "Stars crashing down!"

Making someone "see stars" is an example of destructive sexual metaphor in language because if a boxer takes a punch and starts to wobble, someone might say "oh, he's seeing stars"-- meaning, he's probably a bit concussed or, at least, disoriented from the punch-- but you can also want to make someone "see stars" in bed, which is descriptive for giving them pleasure. It comes from how many people see flecks of light when they orgasm. Crowley is taking this one step further by referring to them as the stars, which is made funnier by the fact that they set the stars in the sky and the first things he ever showed Aziraphale were literal fucking stars 😂.

And what are these stars doing? They're crashing down.

Crowley is comparing the stars falling out of the sky in the final destruction of Armageddon-- so, the destruction of the universe-- as metaphorical for the two of them in bed later on. Aziraphale gonna be so gone, he'll be like what are they putting in bananas these days? (The bananas are another post. Do not distract me while I'm on a roll here lol.)

Aziraphale comes back not long later when he's gotten enough drunken synapses to fire and he's got a destructive sexual metaphor for Crowley that wins at life by their standards because it also encompasses the sea which, as we looked at in the Fish meta (I'll link it later on in the post), they've been using to talk about sex seemingly ever since they first started having some literal and metaphorical oysters back in ancient Rome.

Aziraphale's metaphor? The Kraken.

The Kraken is a mythological sea monster that was often seen as something of a sea serpent, even if historians believe that it was based on giant squid and octopi before those were more well understood. Hmm, I wonder what long-limbed sea serpent could be The Kraken in Aziraphale's metaphor here? 😉

And what's supposed to happen to "The Kraken" that is Crowley during Armageddon?

Oh, it's supposed to come up from the sea to the surface "in the end, when the sea boils." When it all gets too hot because the sea in the mother of all boils here and "the end" is in sight, The Kraken is going to come to the surface.

This is Aziraphale using Armageddon as destructive sexual metaphor. He's comparing sea creatures trying to escape the boiling waters of Armageddon and dying trying to Crowley's near-future orgasm.

They managed these drunk so imagine how filthy they are sober! 😂

We don't have to, actually, as there are lots more...

When Crowley and Aziraphale crossed paths in The Kingdom of Wessex, how did Crowley flirtatiously greet Aziraphale?

"...you have found (dramatic beat while he poses) your death."

Crowley is amusing them both by using the words he has to say to sound threatening while posing as the seemingly violent Black Knight to actually refer to the fact that he's not Aziraphale's literal death-- he would never harm him-- but he is very much Aziraphale's metaphorical death, in that he is Aziraphale's lover.

It's a play on death and destruction as sexual metaphor, in that Aziraphale arrived expecting an encounter with violence, potentially, and, instead, he's found "death"-- pleasure.

For a pretty basic example, there is Aziraphale's "sitting on it" joke and that smirk 😂 to Crowley...

...this is a pretty surface-level but still very funny joke equating the sword with a cock and illustrating that Aziraphale is making the comment innuendo intentionally for the amusement of his partner, who more than gets the joke. Hell, his partner originated the damn joke...

Destructive sexual metaphor is also why Aziraphale references The Titanic when promising a great time at The Meeting Ball and why the theme song to the 1997 movie is on his playlist in S2.

The Titanic is the greatest nautical disaster that has ever occured. By Crowley and Aziraphale standards, that makes it metaphorical for best of the best sex. (Unfortunately, Aziraphale accidentally manifested an actual disaster instead lol.)

One could also say that positively destroying some barbecue is destructive sexual metaphor, especially when one looks one's partner dead in the eye in the middle of it and uses it as euphemistic for other things onto which one might like to go down.

Whew. Good thing Crowley has the constitution of an ox...

Now, you might say... but what do these two care about death and destruction? They're immortal! Except... they're not. Not entirely.

Their relationship is dangerous as all fuck and if they got caught, they could be killed. They do fear actual destruction and Aziraphale uses the word destroy to refer to that with Crowley in earnest more than once when expressing his fear over it.

The spectres of holy water and hellfire looms over them because they could be killed if they are caught. How they end up surviving that risk at the end of S1-- swapping bodies-- is a sexual metaphor in and of itself. The point is that there is risk to them so they understand the human comparisons between sex, destruction and death.

This is really why Aziraphale is so excited about The Bullet Catch in S2. There is nary a more frequent example of a weapon used in destructive sexual metaphor than a gun and, as I looked at a bit in the Fish meta, The Bullet Catch is a metaphor for the history of their sexual relationship and Rome, in particular.

In 1941, The Bullet Catch was Aziraphale's answer to the destructive sexual metaphor Crowley had made when redirecting the bombs in the church by finding an equally sex-and-death magic trick that they could perform together. They both were well-aware of the metaphor.

Understanding this and destructive sexual metaphor in general helps to make clear what it is that Aziraphale actually mouths at Crowley:

When Crowley is struggling to actually fire the gun because he's anxious and, ya know, doesn't want to kill Aziraphale (kinda understandable lol), what Aziraphale mouths at Crowley helps him focus and fire the literal gun that they could not possibly be using more euphemistically if they tried (and they are trying lol.)

If you look at the above gif, you will see that "trust me" are not the actual words that Aziraphale was saying, as those words do not match the movements of his mouth. What he says means "trust me" to Crowley, as Crowley later states, but those are not the words that Aziraphale actually soundlessly said to Crowley on the stage.

Instead, it's pretty evident that what Aziraphale actually mouths is "come for me." He got Crowley to fire the literal gun with some words that do it for Crowley in the situation for which the literal gun is a metaphor. Aziraphale having a gun to his head and using language he'd use in bed is the most sex and death thing that has ever sex and deathed.

This is referenced in the Chateauneuf-de-Pape scene afterwards, when they're still talking about The Bullet Catch as if it was sex, both well-aware of why they spent their date night using a gun-firing performance as foreplay.

Aziraphale referring to what it was he actually mouthed:

Finally, if The Bullet Catch is the king of destructive sexual metaphor scenes between them, then the queen is The Seeds of Destruction.

On the way to Tadfield in S1, we have this scene in which Crowley was giving Aziraphale a few more details about when he dropped off the baby eleven years earlier and started to feel down about how the whole thing is a mess and Armageddon is days away. Aziraphale then starts in on this little monologue using a religious teaching to talk about the nature of evil that gets quite a response out of Crowley.

A lot of people already see the end of the scene for what it is, as it's fairly overt:

You don't have to be looking at wordplay too heavily to see that Crowley's saying that what Aziraphale just said has him hard and that is emphasized by the shot we hold on of Aziraphale to end the scene being that he is clearly checking out the fruits of his labors. So, what, exactly, about what Aziraphale says in this scene is so hot that Crowley is trying to be cool but is very glad in this moment that the car can drive itself?

What Aziraphale is doing here when they're obviously alone is using the slightly pompous angel voice he uses when they banter in their speak in public and he is paraphrasing a religious teaching-- one that Aziraphale doesn't believe in or else he wouldn't be here in this car in this moment-- as the basis for wordplay. What is he doing with that wordplay? He is dirty-talking Crowley in blasphemous destructive sexual metaphor.

Aziraphale sounds like he's talking about the religious teaching that states that evil will always falter, no matter what, simply because it is evil, which means that it is doomed to always cave to good. He is actually using that teaching as a metaphor for how he will "win out" over Crowley the next time they have sex. To do that, he adds destructive sexual metaphor to the very hot blasphemy of using religious language to talk about sex because raindrops on roses and whiskers on kittens and all that but if you mash up etymology, blasphemy, destructive sexual metaphor and the pompous angel voice, these are a few of Crowley's favorite things.

How does he use destructive sexual metaphor here?

Aziraphale is talking about how Crowley keeps the seeds of his destruction-- the impetus for what turns him on-- quiet and doesn't let people close to him and to know him is to know just what he likes and oh Aziraphale knows what he likes (like word flirting while he's driving lol)... and also that one of the things that Crowley likes to contain are the other way the "seeds of destruction" can be taken, which is the literal seeds of his destruction (yes, this is scene #543 to make an orgasm denial reference) but doing that, Aziraphale is saying? It's going to be no use, Crowley...

Among the wordplay in here is that Aziraphale is saying that Crowley might think he's going to last but he's wrong because, eventually, Aziraphale is going to have him metaphorically crashing on the rocks in a shipwreck ("founder on the rocks") and "vanishing"-- a word that means to suddenly disappear. A vanishing, in and of itself, is destructive sexual metaphor but the verb 'to come' is also the root of the words appear and disappear, making to 'vanish' doubly-euphemistic for a sudden, dramatic, ah... "disappearance."

Aziraphale is literally sitting there in the passenger seat chatting away in religious speak, wordplay-happy euphemisms, and with those he is saying, among other things: I know you and what you like and what you need and I'm going to have you dying for it and no matter how much you might try not to give in, eventually, you're going to give yourself up to me and I'm going to make you come so hard.

It's a little more detailed and more clever if you go word-by-word but, basically, that is, in summary, why Crowley is trying not to drive off the road at the end of this scene-- and it's destructive sexual metaphor to a point that there's a vanishing and a shipwreck-- plus, the word destruction literally in it.

Finally, the extent to which they use destruction and death as sexual metaphor is actually best summed up by a moment in which Crowley used it-- but not just as a flirtation.

In 1827, as Aziraphale debated healing Wee Morag, he thought he had more time than he actually did. Crowley, who could sense Wee Morag dying, tried to interrupt him to tell him:

Aziraphale continued for a second in which he says: "I will brook no argument"-- a phrase that implied through its use of a word that also means a type of body of water that he thought he had enough time to flirt with Crowley for a moment before doing anything. The whole exchange is only a few seconds long and Crowley knew that it was over before Aziraphale had even proposed healing Morag and that there was really nothing Aziraphale could have done.

He turns Aziraphale and they witness Wee Morag die. This is the first scene we've seen where the two of them see death happen before them, even though we know they've obviously seen it happen on Earth before. Both of them are understandably upset by Morag's death.

As Aziraphale then speaks to Elspeth, he starts to stammer, emotional over Morag's death and feeling guilty that he didn't save her. Crowley steps up to comfort him before moving to help Elspeth. Crowley wants Aziraphale to know it wasn't his fault and to not feel guilty for flirting while the young woman was dying, as there wasn't a way to save her. He does so by combining the comforting tone and pat of Aziraphale's chest with further flirtation, picking up where Aziraphale left off to show him he doesn't think badly of him.

The comforting flirtation? Is some sex in the face of death.

Crowley says something about grief to Aziraphale that also sounds an awful lot like something someone might say to a lover. The result of the scene is that it has the effect of sounding like Crowley is referencing something once said between them and that was likely something Aziraphale once said to Crowley after a very different sort of "death"-- likely, the first time they performed the The Bullet Catch together.

"It's a bit different when it's someone you know, isn't it?"

So, why does the same music play when Death spreads his wings and when Jesus is nailed to the cross as plays when Crowley and Aziraphale kiss in 2.06? Sex and death. Crowley is death in the sense that he's Aziraphale's death-- and Aziraphale is his.

These two are supposed to be thrilled to bits to one day defeat one another in glorious battle in the final war of Armageddon but they're really in love. They have no desire to hurt one another and every desire to give each other all the pleasure they can. They've developed and enjoy a mutual kink for figuring out increasingly clever and inventive, word-nerdy ways to say they want to fuck each other senseless by way of using words of God, violence, destruction and death to do so, underscoring a theme of sex and death in the Armageddon show.

After all, this is how Crowley once faux-told Aziraphale he wanted to commit murder, so... is it really a stretch? 😉

I'm pretty sure that is about neither goats nor kids, aren't you?

[nexadarling]

Trigun Explicit Recs!

So it turns out there are too many good fics in this fandom and I maxed out the amount of links allowed in a single post (it's 100 btw) so I decided to split the E rated stuff from everything else, cause it makes sense to me.

I offer you my list of smut, organized by wordcount! Most of which will also give you so many emotions cause what is Vashwood with out self-loathing and biblical references. I tried to tag all the authors who have tumblrs, but if I missed someone pls tag them/let me know!

Any fic that features "+" after the word count is on-going/uncompleted, and they are all listed at the end. As they finish, I will add the final word count and place them accordingly.

Check the tags yall!!!

(Non-explicit rec page)

a softer world by Harubo ( @helloharubo) - 2k; Vashwood; E; Modern AU; Painter Vash; Doctor Wolfwood; Reincarnation vibes; Wolfwood has regular dreams of Vash where he's covered in scars and full of a deep, aching sadness. When he wakes up, he needs his husband to reassure him he's still in one piece

not dying, then by amaiyo - 2k; Vashwood; E; Tristamp (I think?); Plant Heat; Vash goes into heat and Wolfwood does his best to help, but man is he kinda lost; this is so fucking good, Vash is such a mess, and honestly so is Wolfwood but he's just trying to keep up, poor guy

la petite mort by @babeyxiao-art and expertfool - 3k; Vashwood; E; Trimax; Vash and Wolfwood get drunk and argue in an alley. A threat turns into… something much different; this did something to my brain chemistry for sure, I fully blame it for my newly found gun kink

My Body's Moving Into Retrograde by Sacramental_Wine - 3k; Vashwood; E; Wolfwood makes Vash want something for himself for once

you'll leave me lonely at best by @procrastinating-bookworm - 3k; Vashwood; E; Post-Badlands Rumble; You know the fucking drill, it's time for some widow Wolfwood reunion sex; God I love the way this fandom explores the hell Wolfwood went through before Vash pops back up like "Jk guys, I'm not dead!"

Heat Waves by @revenantpoet - 3k; Vashwood; E; Tristamp; Vash is having more regular plant heats because of Wolfwood. Wolfwood helps him out (in the car lol) and tries really hard not to think about the fact that he triggers such a reaction from Vash; I like my smut with a side of angst and Vashwood brand repression! This is that exactly, and it's really fucking hot. Blowing so many loving kisses at Rev for this

when your stitch comes loose by @starkillling - 4k; Vashwood; E; Vashwood's relationship with Vash's wings

Your Beauty Never, Ever Scared Me by Sacramental_Wine - 5k; Vashwood; E; Wolf shifter Wolfwood (if you've ever seen Wolf's Rain it's like that); Vash helps an injured wolf, the next morning a man shows up at his door; no cause this is so cute Vash is so baffled at first by Wolfwood’s appearance I love them so much???

Strange Powers by @tenshinokorin - 5k; Vashwood; E; they accidentally get high and fuck about it; I laughed my ass off reading this, pls, it's so good

when I picture you by @pinklicour - 5k; Vashwood; E; Modern AU - College; This is just a silly little fic about Vashwood hooking up, but Wolfwood's pining is so precious and I've reread the scene where they actually become a couple several times cause it makes me so happy; Mack always keeps me so well feed with all the cutesy vw concepts

Little Pieces of the Nothing that Fall by starkstateofmind - 5k; Vashwood; E; Tristamp; it rains and Vash manic pixie dream girls himself into bed with Wolfwood; i kinda stared at a wall for a little after reading this, it's really beautiful and I might also be a manic pixie dream girl

Sing Pretty Melodies on the Motel Bed by @amphetamine-keen - 5k; Vashwood; E; Trimax vibes; Wolfwood convinces Vash to try a vaginal plug; this is just smut but I did read it at least twice. idk what that says about me, but it does say that it's a good fic. And that I have a new toy I need to buy– ANYWAY

fire, nicotine, and iron by quietfaun - 5k; Vashwood; E; Modern AU; Dirtbag Wolfwood, cause it's a weakness I have; Vash gets Wolfwood shot and feels really bad about it. After all, he was really just picking up a stranger for a good night, he wasn't looking to get pulled into Vash's world; Wolfwood is so fucking nasty in this and I am exactly as into it as Vash is, lord help me

what you need by amaiyo - 6k; Vashwood; E; sequal to Not Dying, Then; Vash wants to make up for falling asleep after Wolfwood helped him the first time with his heat; Bottom Wolfwood supremacy!! Man gets his shit wrecked, physically and emotionally

welcome to the beautiful place by @pinklicour - 7k; Vashwood; E; Vash watches Wolfwood interact with a kid for too long and has Feelings about it, turns out Wolfwood feels the same; biting them, shaking them like dog toys, let them have a family goddammit

Nothing Left to Hide by GGumdrops - 7k; Vashwood; E; Wing fic wing fic wing fic; Vash is clearly uncomfortable but doesn't want to tell Wolfwood why. When he finally convinces Vash to show him, he preens his wings for him

in other words by riverenne - 7k; Vashwood; E; Tristamp; Triple-amputee Vash; Unsurprisingly, Vash and Wolfwood are running, and Wolfwood learns a lot about the whirlwind that is Vash; listeeeennnn they're so desperate for each other

when you've laid your hands upon me by amaiyo - 7k; Vashwood; E; Vash gets feverish and delirious, and Wolfwood wants so badly to help. It's not until he's really out of it that Vash realizes what's happening: a heat that can only be triggered by intense emotion linked to an individual; Vash loves Wolfwood so much it sends him into heat and he's so worried about driving Wolfwood off but he needs him so bad

you tear down my reason by halfdemonvash - 8k; Vashwood; E; .... trimaxVashwood/stampedeVashwood; yeah it's selfcest, i'm not sorry about it, it's so fucking good

Bind Your Faith in Scars and Tape by just_a_lil_shipmate - 8k; Vashwood; E; Modern AU - College; Vash pines after Wolfwood, and then properly falls for him when they're forced to spend time in the university greenhouse regularly; Meryl is my favorite

perfect world by outdoorcats - 8k; Vashwood; E; sequel to Water Supply; less drunk but more (beautifully) emotional; "What if we ran away and got married" vibes

water supply by outdoorcats - 9k; Vashwood; E; they get wine drunk and get like emotionally horny; this is so fucking beautiful they’re so in love I hate it here

Holding My Breath by @nekotachis - 9k; Vashwood; E; Canon-verse; Vash tells Wolfwood he's never been on a date, so Wolfwood takes him on one. Feelings are definitely not had during said date

the perfectest herald of joy by riverenne - 9k; Vashwood; E; Tristamp; Vash has a lot of self-soothing habits that drive Wolfwood absolutely insane; I am so unwell about how River writes Wolfwood for real

Dark evil ocean, I’m craving more by Albedothighs - 9k; Vashwood; E; Modern AU - Mer; OrcaWood; Human Vash; Vash and Wolfwood work together so Vash can temporarily be a mer, that way they can be together when storms would otherwise keep them apart. Of course, instead they have a lot of fun exploring Vash's new body together

Trial and error by Anonymous - 10k; Vashwood; E; Vash has freaky plant parts and is pretty sure he can't orgasm, but he's happy to be with Wolfwood however he wants! Wolfwood is determined to prove Vash wrong; Literally cannot get enough of unconventional, incompatible plant stuff for Vash, so this was very fun

like the holding of hands (like the breaking of glass) by @flowercitti - 10k; Vashwood; E;  Tristamp; Vash wakes up after the sandsteamer and faces Wolfwood's full knowledge of his inhumanness; (spoilers WW still thinks Vash is beautiful)

Where The Delicate Stops (Show Me) by @nexadarling - 10k; Vashwood; E; Trimax; Creature Vash; Predator/Prey; Wolfwood sets off Vash's competitive nature and gets chased through the woods. He likes it more than expected; shameless self-plug, I'm just real proud of this one

corsetry, couture, and how (not) to court your coworker by Umbr_el_on - 10k; Vashwood; E; Modern AU - Fashion; Fashion Designer Wolfwood; Model Vash; Wolfwood chooses Vash to debut his new creation, and he really does try so very hard to be professional about it; oooohh boy what a way for Vash to realize he has a huge thing for breathplay, damn

geoplant medicinals by @avoidingavoidance - 11k; Vashwood; E; Tristamp; Wolfwood accidentally gets soooo fucking high. Vash joins him and they have some frankly awesome sex; Wolfwood spends this whole fic being sickeningly in love with his boyfriend and thinking about how pretty Vash is and I love it

the sun is warm (i miss your smile) by mor (mornin) ( @bakubaji) - 12k; Vashwood; E; Vamp Vash/Vamp Hunter Wolfwood; Modern AU

with the same sweet shock of when Adam first came by feelingfoxylmao - 12k; Vashwood; E; Modern AU - BDSM Scene; Wolfwood fucks up at the BDSM club and Vash (consensually and pre-scripted) teaches him his lesson; Dom Vash, Sub Wolfwood; Vash makes Wolfwood bark, what more could I possibly say to make you want to read this??? It's wonderful; slight secondhand embarrassment warning for the beginning where Wolfwood fucks up, but it's worth getting through, trust me

take my breaking heart (and tear it all apart) by johnnyfucksup - 12k; Vashwood; E; Wolfwood tries not to let himself want. Enter Vash, who ruins those plans

Late Night Confessional by ValiantRose ( @sleepyartcryptid) - 12k; Vashwood; E; Modern AU I think?; Trans Wolfwood; Priest Wolfwood; Vash comes to confess his sins... he technically commits more instead, but who’s counting?

Within Us An Orchard by plumtoad - 13k; Vashwood; E; Vash is a sad plant boi, so Wolfwood cheers him up feat. fruit

to control against the pull by catchatter ( @needlab7) - 13k; Vashwood; E; A/B/O; "Wolfwood tries to help out the bro and gets consumed with The Longing"; It is my personal mission to make everyone read this. Please, even if you don't like omegaverse just give it a chance I am begging you

I know I'm gonna die of this by @orcelito - 13k; Vashwood; E; T4T; Vash doesn't like to be touched during sex. He does, however, desperately want to fuck Wolfwood. Wolfwood shows him exactly how much he appreciates it; THE Strap Fic; the fact that this is part of a series based on Nothing But Thieves' song Impossible has me incredibly fucked up; Nico, darling, thank you for writing this, it was delightful

Give Me Mercy No More. by hollyleighannee ( @wytchsbrew) - 14k; Vashwood; E; Modern AU; Bodyguard Wolfwood; During a sandstorm, Vash spends a special night with his secret boyfriend; OH MAN OH GOD WOW; first of all this Wolfwood... I gotta go sit down for a second, damn; the sex is hot, but the emotions are hotter, Wolfwood is so careful to give Vash everything he wants and cares so much, they are both so in love; Holly your fics give me so much joy, I'm so sorry for decimating your notifications

Amarillo Sky by just_a_lil_shipmate - 15k; Vashwood; E; Cowboy/Angel AU; Vash makes Wolfwood realize maybe he's not better off alone; this fic set off my obsession with cowboy Wolfwood…

try my hardest (if you ask me to) by nbagenda - 15k; Vashwood; E; the team stays at Ship 3, and Wolfwood has Feelings about everything being so clean (and so much gay panic about Vash);  this one uses he/they interchangeably for Vash which I really really love

in love with my own sins by spicecandy ( @gaycowboyjesus) - 15k; Vashwood, Vash/Vash, Wolfwood/Wolfwood; E; Trimax VW meet Tristamp VW; listen the everything between everyone is so good but the romantic tension between Tristamp VW is so cute

Gun Barrel Red Hot by varelsen ( @cloudstrifing) - 17k; Vashwood; E; plant heat plant heat plant heat plant hea-; Wolfwood notices Vash is gone and goes to check on him. Naturally, he gets way more than he expected and lets go of some feelings in the process. Vash… maybe makes a little mistake about that later; eating this whole, just absolutely devouring it

Long Goodbyes by ChenamaReel - 17k; Vashwood; E; Trimax;  After the Arc and before the orphanage, Vash and Wolfwood talk about the what-ifs of the future. With the knowledge of their respective missions, their normal flirting banter turns to something more real; crying sobbing, shoving this in your face

waking up in vegas by kae_karo - 17k; Vashwood; E; Modern AU; They wake up married to each other in Vegas after a night they barely remember. They try to track down the chapel they got married in, but kinda don't wanna undo it by the end of the day; listen this is just so cute they’re so into each otheeerrrr

if you were church (I’d get on my knees) by iokanaan - 18k; Vashwood; E; T4T; Actual Priest Wolfwood, feat. trimax Vashwood as guardian angels (I have no excuse for this one but it goes really hard)

so i'll sing to the grave (put you back together) by desertblooms - 18k; Vashwood; E; Canon-verse; Wolfwood doesn't feel worthy to touch Vash, so Vash shows him that's not true

you'll never get enough by tagteamme ( @phaltu) - 19k; Vashwood; E; Modern AU - Boxer/Gym; Wolfwood owns a gym that is under Nai's thumb, Vash is a regular at the gym and should be off limits; I have read this at least twice and it occasionally haunts my dreams

just a holy fool by @avoidingavoidance - 19k; Vashwood; E; Tristamp; Wolfwood is so upset about how much of a soft spot he has for Vash and Vash somehow makes it worse all the time always; sure Wolfwood, we all believe that you're annoyed with Vash and not stupidly in love with him

End Racism in the OTW | a kind heart to haunt by littleghost ( @ghostlandtoo) - 20k; Vashwood; E; Cowboy/Western AU; Wolfwood is an outlaw, Vash left that life a long time ago and doesn't want to get wrapped up in it again

laughter lines by @beesinspades - 21k; Vashwood; E; Modern AU; Ace Vash; Grey Ace Wolfwood; Knives sends Wolfwood to bring Vash back to him. Vash doesn't want to go. Wolfwood kind of doesn't want to make him; crying go read this i love it so much all of Bee's stuff brings me such joy

i’m here in search of your glory (there’s been a million before me) by @sascake - 22k; Vashwood; E; Post-Trimax fix it feat. Wolfwood's entire orphanage

I'd Get Rid of the Sun in Favor of the Moonshine by FlowerFed - 22k; Vashwood; E; Modern AU - Coffeeshop/Cafe; Milly asks Vash to vouch for her ex so he can get a job at the same cafe as him, Vash meets a handsome stranger at the beach; surely there is no connection between these events…; (spoiler, there totally is and they’re super cute)

a tide of tender mercies by @gloriousporpoise - 23k; Vashwood; E; Wolfwood and Vash are on the run after July, chasing bounties; Wolfwood finds himself in a bad way without his serum and gets taken care of (ha, take that, WW!); I'm a sucker for Wolfwood pining hopelessly after Vash and this is just the perfect mix of pining and his snark

sun comin' up by amaiyo - 23k; Vashwood; E; Mermaid AU; Modern AU; Wolfwood is a priest assigned to a tiny island, and sometimes he stands on the pier at night to listen to the strange songs on the ocean wind; Vash is just uncanny enough in this to sate my need for creature Vash, and they’re just so gone on each other

today, and all of the days by @pushclouds - 24k; Vashwood; E; Modern AU; Vash owns a donut shop, Wolfwood owns a smoke shop/bar; Vash doesn't realize they're definitely dating; pls Vash spends the whole time being like “ah yes a business partnership” meanwhile Wolfwood is like… just trying to go on dates with his boyfriend? They’re so fucking stupid

Wanna be your sin, I wanna be a preacher by oh_imintrouble - 24k; Vashwood; E; Trans Vash; Modern AU; Dirtbag Wolfwood tbh; Vash is on the run from Knives and meets Wolfwood, who takes care (and takes care) of him when he's attacked and helps him run; Look okay, Wolfwood is so gross in this, like objectively, I don't think he's ever not been high on something and his mattress is on the floor, he carries a hammer for fuck's sake, just to bash people's heads in, but damn if I wouldn't do some questionable shit for a shot with him

Ascension Day by farseersfool ( @birdadjacent) - 26k; Vashwood; E; Modern AU (but still Plant powers); Wolfwood is a hitman hired by Nai to protect Vash. Surely keeping his mark as close as physically possible is only the logical thing to do. Right? Right.

dance in our catastrophe by @pushclouds - 28k; Vashwood; E; Post-Trimax fix it; Wolfwood and Vash are stuck in a safe house together, what could possibly go wrong?!; Wolfwood's inner monologue in this is so delightful and sad, they (definitely totally platonically) cuddle to keep the Horrors away, and there is at least one (1) playfight that Wolfwood has to end in a panic cause he gets horny about it

The Lord Won’t Forgive Me (But My Angel Will) by natumn - 28k; Vashwood; E; Eriks Vash ❤️; Two years after July, Wolfwood drunkenly stumbles right into Eriks and Lena, and they take him home so he can recover. He stays with them for a while, but Vash never could run from the EoM forever; Eriks feels always fuck me up, I love making Wolfwood face his desire for domesticity, and Lena is perfect and precious

four suns by Joelene - 31k; Vashwood; E; Trimax Vashwood and Tristamp Vashwood meet in the middle of the desert!!; This is genuinely very cute as well as hot, I reread this immediately after finishing it lol; Trimax Vashwood being competitive and then getting lost in themselves is so precious; Wolfwood begging will always be my downfall; They all fuck, but they don't fuck each other. Like each version Vashwood stays together. They do all make out with their own alternative versions, so do with that what you will I guess

you're a canary (i'm a coal mine) by PotatoButt ( @rubyredgh0st) - 32k; Vashwood; E; Modern AU; Zoo keeper Vash; Orphanage Worker Wolfwood; Wolfwood brings his kids to see the tomas show, but sometimes he comes alone to watch the cute handler; Brad is so protective here I love him actually

blood in the badlands by eviscerates - 34k; Vashwood; E; Vampire Vash/Vampire Hunter Wolfwood on NML; the Eye of Michael is a hunter group, Wolfwood is not supposed to have feelings for Vash

I'm not a Psycho (I'm Just Trying to Get Laid) by @inkfishie - 34k; Vashwood; E; Tristamp; Various times Vash and Wolfwood have... encounters. Feat. Vash's emotions and awkwardness; this is so cuteeee

At the Top of the World by Insomniac_with_dreams - 35k; Vashwood; E; Cowboy AU; Wolfwood follows a help-wanted ad and finds himself at the Saverem ranch for the summer. He gets... more than he bargained for; God above please read this it's so beautiful and heartfelt and wonderful and they love each other so much fuck

CAUSE OF DEATH (See instructions and examples) by neatrogenous ( @floofyfluff) - 39k; Vashwood; E; Post-Trimax fix it, but Vash runs faster than the Flash from every single Emotion he's ever had (body horror cw for the first chapter)

i think that we should go and get you out of here by molotovhappyhour - 39k; Vashwood; E; Exorcist Wolfwood AU; Wolfwood travels to July to help rid them of a haunting that's taken root there for years, Vash is, of course, at the center of it; the writing in this is so beautiful and haunting and perfectly disorienting during the spookier parts it’s so good

inter paradisum et infernum by itsacoup - 39k; Vashwood; E; Wild West AU; Preacher Wolfwood; Outlaw Vash; Wolfwood takes protecting his flock very seriously, and when Vash rolls into town, he is determined to do just that. Damn if Vash being so attractive and such a match for him doesn't make that difficult though; The way canon elements of their story and background are mixed into the world-building of this is so delicious; They really are drawn to each other in every life

Saturdays at 6 p.m. by maginot - 42k; Vashwood; E; Modern AU; Vash reaches out to professional Dom Wolfwood to ask if he's taking on new subs. Wolfwood realizes he's fucked as soon as Vash walks through his front door; Okay yes this is kinky in the sense that it is an actual, structured BDSM relationship, but it's actually not the kinkiest thing on here??? It is absolutely delightfully spicy and sweet though. And watching Wolfwood fall apart about actually falling for Vash is so fucking GOOD; also vash's pain kink has me on the fucking floor dear god

sugar rush by corvidcaper ( @not-miss-marple) - 42k; Vashwood; E; Modern AU; Vash owns a candy shop; Friends with benefits to lovers; Everyone knows they’re dating except the two of them, and goddamn does Wolfwood try to keep it casual; Spoiler, it is anything but casual lol

in the woods somewhere by halfdemonvash - 42k; Vashwood; E; Fantasy AU; cottagecore; Vash finds Wolfwood injured in his forest and takes him to his home to nurse him back to health. Wolfwood... kinda really loves it. Even if he wasn't entirely there on accident

giving in to your fever touch by honeyseeking ( @sweetyuris) - 46k; Vashwood; E; Trimax/98; Wolfwood finds Vash as Eriks and gives him three days to make up his mind; *violently shaking this fic* it's so full of emotions

Pillow Talk by fantasy_stupid - 47k; Vashwood; E; Modern AU; Nai sends Wolfwood to secretly trail Vash and make sure he's safe while Nai is gone. Vash clocks him immediately and they try to make the best of it; bodyguard Wolfwood you have my heart and soul

The Lighthouse by EloFromMars - 51k; Vashwood; E; Lighthouse guy Wolfwood; Eldritch Horror Vash; legitimate lovecraftian level eldritch horror but like.... Vash is still a baby girl and Wolfwood is still into it; honorary mention for Kuroneko

by the time the apocalypse began by everythingeverything (yiqie) ( @englishsub)- 51k; Vashwood; E; Space Opera AU; Spaceship Mechanic Wolfwood (kinda??); When Wolfwood's crew intercepts a signal from an unknown source, everything changes; I absolutely did not do the summary of this justice, it's really really fucking good; not-quite-enemies-to-lovers vibes; reminiscent of The Martian, but with a strange space cat thing and Vash in all his alien glory

Citronella by @canyondotcom - 58k; Vashwood; E; Modern AU; Vampire AU; Creature Vash; Woodworker Wolfwood; Wolfwood wakes up in the middle of the night to something--no, someone on his porch. Against his better judgment, he lets them in... Things get... Interesting; Uuggggghhhhh God this is so good I love creature Vash and the vampire lore is so unique and non-traditional I love it so much

song of solomon 4:7 by ellisisntreal - 68k; Vashwood; E; Modern AU; Trans Vash; A cute new neighbor moves in across from Wolfwood, one who he quickly realizes is the hottest DILF ever and exactly his type; listen. LISTEN! This is so good, Vash's kid is 13, so he's old enough to be funny and snarky, Vash and Wolfwood's banter is amazing, and scenes with all three of them (and eventually Livio) are actually so funny I was wheezing. Idk how you write dialog so real and hilarious, but I had a grand fucking time

Strawberries & Cigarettes by Umbr_el_on - 71k; Vashwood; E; Modern AU - Tattoo shop/Flower shop; "No, seriously, Livio, it's just casual, it doesn't mean anything, stop"; several days later: *calls Livio crying about how much Vash makes him feel*; and that's it that's the fic; I like that they're both broken and fucked up here, and they make mistakes and piss each other off, but they continue to choose to try together. It just makes me really happy. They aren't perfect but they're perfect together

A Step By Step Guide to Love and Peace, Written by Vash Saverem (Co-Authored by Friends, Family, and Nicholas D. Wolfwood) by calandos - 71k; Vashwood; E; Modern AU - Fleabag; Trans Vash; Priest Wolfwood; It's fucking.... it's a fleabag AU idk how much harder I call sell this I clicked immediately when I saw the tag; yeah, it has the confession scene; this made me want to cry. I may have actually cried; god I relate to Vash so much

someone to last your whole life by catchatter ( @needlab7) - 73k; Vashwood; E; Post-Trimax fix it, with deep attention to the realities of mourning and what it means to have mourned someone who is no longer dead; genuinely one of the most beautiful things I have ever read

Trillium and Ivy by @shastafirecracker - 80k; Vashwood; E; Modern AU; Funeral Director Wolfwood; Garden Center Vash; Wolfwood works at a funeral home across from the garden center, and notices the cute co-owner; this one is a personal favorite it makes me feel insane if I think about it too long

Wildflowers by @shastafirecracker - 103k; Vashwood; E; Dark Fantasy AU; cottagecore; Trans Wolfwood; Wolfwood is sent to kill the Beast Lord of the forest and gets far more than he bargained for; dear fucking God please read this holy shit I cannot overstate how good the world building is

Daylily by @needlesknives (bakusboi) - 10k+; Vashwood; E; Modern AU - Tattoo shop; Vash comes to Wolfwood wanting to get his scarring covered with tattoos, Wolfwood realizes this project entails a lot more than he anticipated. In several ways

honeysuckle red by @beelzebby666 - 43k+; Vashwood; E; Modern AU; Line Cook Wolfwood (yes it's important shut up); A one night stand turns into Wolfwood spending so much time with Vash and his fucking garden (why does he like bees so much I love him????); Wolfwood just wants to be kept. He just wants to be kept!!!

la vache! by @skittidyne - 28k+; Vashwood; E; Modern AU - Sex Work; Sex Worker Vash; Trans Vash; Wolfwood needs to learn French very quickly since he promised Livio he would and then procrastinated till the last moment. He finds his solution in Vash's... unique way of teaching (it might involve dildos); I'm rabid over the fact there are not more chapters of this

save a horse by ofxanadu - 37k+; Vashwood; E; Western AU; Trans Vash; Wolfwood saves Vash from getting mugged by the Bad Lads Gang and has a night so memorable he's hung up on it for almost a year when Vash shows up again; i cannot even put into words my thoughts on this fic I'm just making feral sounds about how much I love it

If you know me no you don't!

Come tell me your opinions about all of these my DMs are open I promise

[pureastrologywisdom]

𝒮𝒸𝑜𝓇𝓅𝒾𝑜 ~ 𝒟𝑒𝒶𝓉𝒽 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝑅𝑒𝒷𝒾𝓇𝓉𝒽

Scorpio is a sign which many people are fascinated by, as if they are drawn to it. There is something intriguing yet perplexing about it, where you feel you can always dig for more. There is always so much hidden underneath it’s surface of allure and sex appeal. After all this sign is all about depth.

Scorpio is ruled by Pluto. This is a sign of transformation. This is a reason why you can see this cycle of death and rebirth with Scorpio. Though ‘death’ so to speak is a scary topic, its a also a key element in this transformative cycle. It clears out space foe the new and allows room for evolvement. 

Transformation is an interesting topic with scorpios. If you, or anyone you know has heavy Scorpio placements, especially scorpio in their big three, they are most likely very familiar with this process as they can feel as if it surrounds them. Whilst this can be very uncomfortable for them, especially since scorpio holds fixed energy, its also extremely important for them. If they aren’t evolving and transforming, they will begin to feel very stuck. The key here is mixing that fixed energy with the transformative energy. You can see how there should be a consistency is ever changing and evolving for them to reach their full potential.

They are very good art transmuting their emotions into fuel, used to grow or for projects they have in their life. They can tap into that deep source within them and use it. Another thing they may not like to admit is they are often fuelled by anger. Think about their traditional ruler being mars and also having Pluto, which amplifies the intensity, as its modern ruler. Its an easy source of power for them to tap into.

I also feel people can underestimate scorpios creativity. Sexual energy is linked with creative energy, think about passion and inspiration. It’s that transmutation of energy - which we spoke of earlier. And as we know scorpio is heavily linked with your sexual organs. In French you have ‘la petite mort’ or ‘the little death’ linked with the sexual act. Even the act alone is transformative. I wont go too into depth on this platform however. But in this way Scorpios do have a good creative source to tap into, also it would be silly not to mention they are water signs after all, making them naturally more creative through their emotions.

An interesting way to look at your chart is finding the house that Scorpio rules and looking at how this theme of death and rebirth is relevant to it. Its a place in your chart where you should embrace those transformations. That area of life can be quite dramatic from the outlook, but often things needed to break down before they are built back up even better than before. 

I will leave you with this, think of scorpio of the rising of the Phoenix from the ashes. That is a very good depiction to have for your fellow Scorpios, or as mentioned, that area where scorpio rules in your chart.

Thank you for reading as always

pureastrowisdom x

[hughiecampbelle]

Little Death (Frenchie Oneshot)

Character/s: Frenchie, Butcher, Hughie, M.M.

Word Count: 1,396

Requested: hello!! I love your work!! I would love to request frenchie and the following prompts! “Gauze” “caution” “I don’t owe you anything” - anon

A/N: I hope you like it my love!!! I'm not the happiest with it. I've rewritten it three times, but I think it's just one of those fics where I'll never truly be satisfied unfortunately. Regardless, I love the idea! Thank you for requesting!!! Feedback is always appreciated! 💜💜💜

I don’t owe you anything, you spat, blood dribbling down your chin. Timidly, he slides a pad of gauze across the sink, leaving it between you. The first aid kit sat open on his lap, exposed. You reach out only when he’s let go, unwrapping it. Your head pounds. The wound on your forehead wasn’t deep enough to need stitches. For that, you were grateful. It pulsed, wet and red and throbbing. You pulled your sleeve over your hand, pressing into it. He reaches out to help, but you flinch. He forgets. That’s dangerous. I don’t owe any of you anything, you clarify a little louder. You’re sure they’re all listening. The walls are thin and that group, who hadn’t stopped arguing since they showed up, were all too quiet. The angry one with bloodshot eyes rammed the butt of his gun into your head. If only it’d been his bare fist. Not after, with a gloved hand, had he punched you upwards, your jaw bruising as you spoke. You grabbed the wrist of his coat. This one, meek and empathetic, ordered him to stop. The both of you to stop. They were guests in your home, they were supposed to act like it. He wasn’t going to force you to do anything you didn’t want to. You’d had enough of that for one lifetime. I know you don’t. His tone is gentle. Understanding. You stood, careful, cautious in the tiny bathroom, taping the bandages over the opening. What did they see when they looked at you?

You rinsed your mouth, watching the water circle the drain, pink and gooey. His knee touches you, the fabric worn thin, and you can’t help but turn rigid, still, until you can back away into the corner. Until you can make sure he is nowhere near you. He raises his hands, surrendering. I did not mean- he stops, unable to finish the sentence. I know, you say too quickly. You knew his type, his kind. Always testing the limits. Pushing the boundaries. Believing themselves different from the rest. They could try all they wanted, they could think all they wanted, they all ended up in the same shallow graves.

You were famous in all the wrong places. Death for hire. There were no signs or symptoms. There was no real reason for their sudden deaths. It was instant. It was painless. It was effective. No marks or bruises, no bullet holes or brains bashed in. No weapons necessary. It's been a long time since you took a job. There were plenty of opportunities, plenty of people looking, you just didn't want to be found. Fell off the grid. No family, no friends. It was easier than you'd like to admit. It was effortless. One day you were there, the next no one had heard from you. You didn't take calls or emails. You didn't have a phone. Customers would drop off letters, notes, envelopes of cash with names and descriptions. You'd do what you needed to. They always paid well. There was a sick sort of satisfaction. Your part was easy. Sometimes you put on a show. Got dressed up. Slid beside them at the bar. Took them to bed. They adored you. Other times, it was on the subway, the bus, in the middle of the crosswalk. Your job was done. The world went on spinning. That's just how it goes.

Little Death. La Petite Mort. That’s what everyone called you. I assume you know what I can do. He nods. They all did. It was Frenchie who'd seen you first. You weren't angry or fighting, you weren't cagey. You were very still, sitting in the middle of your cell, knees to chest. There was something underneath that. Perhaps it was defeat or shame. In the moment, it caught him off guard. Now he understands it's just who you are. Who you've become. Who were you before? Cindy opened the doors and everyone fled. You were cautious though, pulling your sleeves over your hands, your arms, keeping yourself small enough to slip by without getting caught, without hurting anyone. He wanted to follow, but it was too late. He never forgot about you. Afterwards, he asked M.M. and Hughie to dig up every file from the Sage Grove Center. You'd be useful, he just wasn't sure how important you'd turn out to be.

So why aren't you afraid? You sat at the edge of the tub, him on the toilet, the two of you staring at one another. He smiles and the act strikes you across the face. You are not so scary. He shrugs. Nine years ago, almost ten, they injected you with Compound V. You were a teenager, placed in their care by people who loved you. There were no physical changes. No outward deformities or abilities. They assumed it was mental, but you couldn't read thoughts or move things with your mind. Called you a dud. A failure. If that was true, wouldn't that mean you could leave? You begged one of the nurses, please. The words scratched your throat, tore their way from your mouth like barbed wire. Please, I won't say anything. I won't tell anyone. And then you grabbed them by the wrist, making them drop your dinner tray. They dropped, too. A pile of lead wrapped in skin. You'd never forget that sound. Someone heard and they followed. They went to pull you, drag you from the cell, punish you, but they found the same fate. There was a pile of bodies before anyone realized it wasn't on purpose. Lamplighter watched the security cameras. You never fought any of them. They found no weapons on your person after a strip search. All they did was touch you.

Ten years. Ten years of bodies. Ten years of testing. They'd learn. You'd learned too. It only worked skin to skin. Clothing, fabric, gloves, all of it could be a lifesaver. Any part of you. All parts of you. They still found ways to hurt you. Some favored cattle prods. Others went the old fashioned way, pointing a gun between your eyes until you took down an entire room of other patients. You chose to live and for that you would always be considered selfish. Who do you want me to kill? You ask, your eyes cast down at the blood drying on your shirt. No one ever wanted your company. No one ever wanted to get to know you. It was what you could do that was of interest. It is not that simple, Petite Mort. You roll your eyes. It is that simple. You move abruptly. Sitting to standing, learning into him, your faces inches from one another. His eyes widened despite himself. He is scared.

They all are.

You can say no, he says again. You're overcome by nausea, dizziness. Maybe you had a concussion. Maybe it was what he'd said, the name he whispered. Get out. You look him in the eyes and repeat yourself, but he doesn't move. Get out! You pull at his jacket, pushing him through the doorway. His friends all freeze. Get out! Leave now! You know your neighbors will complain about the screaming, but you don't care. You're furious. Frenchie tries to calm you down, but you're hysterical. This is what they wanted. This is why Vought let you live so long. Because they wanted you to be their weapon. You could kill anyone. Everyone. You were collateral. An emergency fund. An option when they were all out of options. You weren't going to be used anymore. You weren't going to be a pawn in Voughts game. Not anymore. You got out. You were free. You couldn't go back there, you couldn't put yourself in danger like that again. They would recognize you. You would never see the light of day again. They'd let you rot in a cell like all those years. Before you slam the door in their faces, Frenchie tries one last time. S'il te plaît. We would never let anything happen to you. You've become cold, stone-like, the same shell of a human being he recognized from that first day, that first moment. There is not getting through to you. Not now, at least. The conversation was over. He must let it die.

You were not going to kill Homelander.

[if-whats-new]

What's New In IF? Issue 25 (2024)

By Brij, Dion, Bex and Jen

Now Available!

Itch.io - Keep Reading below

If you read the zine, consider liking the post: it helps us see how many people see it! And sharing is caring! <3

~ EDITORIAL ~

Wow what’s that? So many jams!

Game jams are a great way to bring together all kinds of game enthusiasts and make exciting new things. It’s also a great way for us readers to find new stuff. And this issue just broke its record in featured jams! So check them all out.

We want some feedback!

As we’re starting to get a hand of things, we would love some feedback from you guys! What you enjoy, want more or less off, how we could improve... Anything goes! We even have a nifty form!

Still looking for members!

Due to the severe changes in the Zine team, we are once again looking for free hands with a couple of hours to kill, and minds, looking to make a little difference in the community!

If you too would like to help us out in a more official capacity, please shoot us a message! You can check out the available positions here, but if you’d like to help in any other way, feel free to contact us as well!

No Small Talk for some time!

We hope you enjoy this new issue!

BRIJ, DION, BEX AND JEN

~ BE A PART OF THE ZINE ~

THIS ZINE ONLY HAPPENS WITH YOU!

Want to write 1-2 pages about a neat topic, or deep-dive into a game and review it in details? Share personal experiences or get all academic?

WRITE FOR THE COLUMN!

Prefer to be more low-key but still have something to share? Send us a Zine Letter or share a game title for Highlight on…!

WE WANT TO HEAR FROM YOU!

Excited as we are about next week's interview and have questions for our guest? Or want to see a certain author answer questions next? Message us!

SMALL TALK... IS WAITING!

Came across something interesting? Know a release or an update announced? Saw an event happening? Whether it's a game, an article, a podcast… Add any IF-related content to our mini-database!

EVERY LITTLE BIT COUNTS!

Contact us through Tumblr asks, Forum DMs, or even by email! And thank you for your help!!

~ EVENT SPOTLIGHT : ECTOCOMP 2024 ~

La Petite Mort or Le Grand Guignol? Either way, it’s going to get spooky!

Ever since October 2007 spooky-game enthusiasts all over the world have a chance to participate in ECTOCOMP, an annual competition for interactive fiction celebrating the SPOOKY MONTH OF HALLOWEENTOBER. Whether you celebrate Halloween, Day of the Dead, All Saint's Eve, or just love ghost stories and creeping people out, this is your time to shine!

Previously organized by Jason Guest for ADRIFT games, the jam is now open to all development platforms. Since the beginning of this initiative, there has been a motivation to unite and strengthen ties between international communities in the IF world. Creators can submit games either in one of the four main languages - English, Spanish, French and German or any other!

This year marks the 40th anniversary of Ghostbusters. Named after the Ghostbusters’ car license plate number ECTO 1, this year the jam pays tribute to the film that inspired the title! Some other subthemes and inspiration prompts are: Spooky adventure, Sweet supernatural, Halloween fest, Día de Los Muertos, All Saints', All Souls' Eve and any other festivity or mythology around the world.

As per tradition, Ectocomp has two categories:

La Petite Mort, for those who want to speed-write their game in 4 hours or less.

Le Grand Guignol, for games that, for whatever reason, took longer than 4 hours to write.

When the jam is over, all of the submitted games will be uploaded to the IF Archive.

~ ENDED ~

The voting for IFComp ended, the votes are boing counted and the results will be announced on October 19th! You can tune in for the Awards Ceremony stream. (October 19 at 4pm Eastern)

~ ONGOING (VOTING) ~

Entries have been submitted for the 6th Spooktober Annual Visual Novel Jam! You can vote for your favourites until October 27th! Every October Friday you can also watch Chizu's sponsored Spooktober Stream where she plays through all submissions!

~ ONGOING (SUBMITTING) ~

Another edition of the Bad Art Visual Novel Jam is upon us! The submissions are open until October 19th for anything following the theme Super Hero/Super Villain. Just remember: No good art!

Find inspiration in dusty old decrepit corners, revivify the forgotten - the Revival Jam 2024 is here! You can submit anything you want until the 20th of October.

Strip IF to it’s bare bones and all it become beautiful text. That’s what The Bare-Bones Jam is about.

It’s spooky month and with it comes the annual ECTOCOMP 2024. If it’s spooky or supernatural why not submit it?

Running until Halloween, the Phantasia Jam is a three months game jam to create a fantasy narrative game, with the theme of “Hidden Magic”. It accepts both VN and IF.

On the CoG Forum, Halloween is already there! Until Oct 31st, you can submit your projects to the Halloween Jam - but don't forget the theme! VAMPIRE, Murder, 70’s Disco!

Disabled Rep VN Jam has a very simple premise but a very important message.

Once upon a time, a game jam was held to create stories around the theme of fairy tales… and that game jam is the Once Upon A Time VN Jam. It’s running from October 1st to January 31st.

Concours de Fiction Interactive Francophone 2025 is for all French-speaking enthusiasts. Submissions are accepted March 3rd 2025.

Are you perhaps a fan of more somber, melancholic themes? Then check out the Dying Year - Visual Novel Jam! You have until the end of the year to participate.

The Black Visual Novel Jam is all about working with creative professional developers who work in visual novels to bring more Black stories to life. The goal is to create a space where Black creators can show their unique storytelling through visual novels.

Bare your teeth and sharpen your claws because the Monstrous Desires 2024 Visual Novel Jam is here! Dedicated to the love of entities, horrors, and monstrosities, this jam will be full of romantic Visual Novels (VN) that heavily focus on a monster may it be original or from classics, folklore, modern media, etc.

~ OTHER ~

The Interactive Fiction Showcase is still running! If you have completed an IF piece this year, consider submitting it! It is happening only on itch!

~ NEW RELEASE ~

Ink and Intrigue (CScript) is an interactive erotic fantasy novel about finding love on a lush tropical island among immortal warrior-mages as you explore ancient mysteries, craft dragon-rune tattoos, and discover your true loyalties. @leiatalon

Locked Out (Ren'Py) is a short kinetic visual novel about a young women that gets locked out of her own apartment.

Are you a The Sims lover? Then check out Buck and Jill's Trick-Or-Treat Adventure. @emperorofthedark

Daemonologie (Unreal Engine) is a short folk horror story influenced by the Scottish witch trials of the late 17th century.

Playing the game is letting it exist. (Decker) is a narrative game structured as an interview for a day trader position.

Oblivious Melodies (Twine) Volume I. is now available to play. @oblivious-melodies

As always, don't forget to check out the submitted entries to the events mentioned in the previous pages. They deserve some love too!

~ NEW RELEASE (WIP) ~

Blood of the Living (CScript), the Field’s of Asphodel sequel is here! The demo is now available for Patreon supporters. @chrysanthemumgames

In Enderbane (CScript) you’ll get to travel back in time from the London of the 1800s to a lush medieval era in Normandy. @enderinthebane

The Beast of Glenkildove has stalked Ireland for centuries. Now, you must hunt it. The Hunter: The Reckoning — The Beast of Glenkildove (CScript) demo is now available.

The Shadow Whisperer (Ren’py) is a visual novel where you get to attend what would have been just another uneventful ball, if only you had not piqued the interest of the mysterious Lord Helderon.

The Soulforge Order (Twine) is a sci-fi fantasy text-based game about becoming an elite warrior that helps to protect the world of Azish. @thesoulforgeorder

In The Empire (CScript) you’re the sole heiress to the great Empire of Ethrean whose expected to be the next ruler. But that is not a title that comes lightly; with assassins, possible backstabbers and increasingly daring rebels, your future is in jeopardy.

So you have a stalker, but he's your type, so what now? Find out by playing Marry My Stalker.

~ UPDATES ~

A Shriek of Ash and Fire (CScript) added extra content to their demo. @krogpile

After Dark (CScript) added the second part of the fifth day of the journey to the demo.

College Tennis: Origin Story (CScript) released Chapter 5 to the public. @collegetennisoriginstory

Grey Swan - Birds of a Rose (CScript) added content to their re-written demo. @reinekes-fox

Incubus (Twine) released Chapter 5. @sonnet009games

Meteoric (CScript) finished Chapter 4.

Misplaced (CScript) released Chapter 8. @calliopefiction

Parasitical (CScript) added new content to the demo. @parasitical-if

The Mighty Shifter (CScript) updated the demo. @miss-briar-novels

The Unbeheaded (CScript) released Chapter 2.

Thicker Than (CScript) released their monthly update. @barbwritesstuff

Virtue's End (CScript) updated the public demo with a part of Chapter 2. @virtues-end

Drink Your Villain Juice (CScript) added new content to their demo. @drinkyourvillainjuice

DEERBOURNE (CScript) added Chapter 2 to their demo. @daisychainfiction

Seven's Deadly (Twine) finished Chapter 3. @sevensdeadly-if

Love the Guard, Be the King (Ren’Py) added new content to their demo. @ligiawrites

Our Life: Now and Forever (Ren’Py) added Patreon beta update that completes the trick or treating adventures of Step 1. @gb-patch

Weeping Gods (CScript) added extra content to Chapter 2. @jcollinswrites

~ OTHER ~

Werewolves 3: Evolution’s End is in need of beta testers.

The VNture podcast is back with another episode! This time talking about festivals in VNs.

~

As always, we apologize in advance for missing any update or release from the past week. We are only volunteers using their limited free time to find as much as we can - but sometimes things pass through the cracks.

If you think something should have been included in this week's zine but did not appear, please shoot us a message! We'll do our best to add it next week! And if you know oncoming news, add it here!

~ MAYBE YOU NEXT? ~

We did not get a submission this week. But if you have an idea for a short essay, or would like a special space to share your thoughts about IF and the community...

Shoot us an email!

~ HIGHLIGHT ON ~

A couple of games that we thought were cool.

Your favourite game here?

Do you have a favourite game that deserves some highlighting?

An old or recent game that wowed you so much you spam it to everyone?

Tell us about it! And it might appear here!

Thank you for the issue! 💗 I found out so many ifs thanks to you guys

- @lacewing707

WE LOVE TO HEAR FROM YOU ALL! WHETHER IT'S GOOD OR BAD, OR EVERYTHING IN BETWEEN...

Have something to say? Send us a message titled: Zine Letter!

Everyone’s favourite holiday is upon us, and as a celebration, we in the WNIF team decided to make the next two issues HALLOWEEN THEMED! What does that mean? Aside from a slight graphic change, we will be adding a recommendation section - something of a larger version of the Highlight on... section you’re already used to.

But for that, we will need your help! Is there a game that you love that just screeches "Halloween!" at you? Share it with us and we will include it in one of our Halloween double-issues so all our other readers can check it out as well.

We even have a form for it!

As always, huge thanks to all you readers who liked, shared, and commented on the last issue!

What might be tiny actions are huge support and motivators to us!

Thank you for cheering us on this journey

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

We now have a Linktree! Accessing all of our links has never been easier.

And see you again next week, this time more spooky! (So bring a costume.)

BRIJ, DION, BEX, JEN

WHAT'S NEW IN IF? 2024-ISSUE 25

[two-red-lungs]

I Can’t Hardly Stand It

BFF!Eddie/Fem!Reader NSFW

Summary: College guys, despite your best attempts, have been leaving you high and dry and desperate in the bedroom. Now, with you back in Hawkins for winter break? Let’s just say your six-foot-something best friend is looking like a real good way to relieve some of that long-standing sexual tension. 

That is, if you don’t ruin your friendship in the process. 

Word Count: 5.5k

How do you ask a friend to be more than a friend? To lift a foot and place it, however tentative and skittish over the well-established boundary? To enter into a realm of unknown, unfamiliar feelings that, in all likelihood, could destroy that friendship? Crumble it to dust? How the hell does one do that, exactly?

It was a question you had been turning over and over in your head for days, hoping that contemplating it enough would bring you a sudden enlightened answer. But nope. It was still the same agonizing question. You thought it, and in your mind you saw Eddie’s eyes. Big, brown, wet and wide. 

How do you ask your friend to fuck you?

When the idea first came to mind you discarded it like a deer stumbling away from a car on a highway. The thought was obscene. Way outta line. You and Eds… you went back years. Maybe a decade at this point. You and him in fifth grade, goofin’ it up out on the playground in the Indiana winter cold, play-fighting with sticks as swords. And now, him calling you once or twice a month: the connection long and expensive and only affordable if all you said was hi, how are you, that’s great, talk to you later. But NYU was your dream school. He knew that. He’d encouraged you to take the scholarship, to get the fuck out of the sleepy town that too often trapped people in little lives that went nowhere. 

And you did. You did it. Packed your shit and left, moved into a freshman dorm buzzing with excitement and academia and dirty laundry. It was fun. New York was big and loud and alive and full of cute boys to meet. Oh, meet them you did. Date after date, smiling faces, clumsy, heated kisses. 

That’s where the problem really was, see. 

You wanted it. The big sin. La petite mort. And without fucking fail, every single skinny-legged eighteen-nineteen-twenty year old you collapsed into bed with was baaaaad. Like, painfully, stupidly, unbelievably bad. Their breath stank or they sweat too much or they popped off like bottle rockets against your bare thigh after just a minute or two of naked squirming and sloppy makeouts. And that left you alone, buzzing with a deep, red hunger. Unfulfilled, day after day. Month after month. It made you realize you needed something more. Someone you could talk to, tell what to do, share information and words with without it feeling awkward or dictatorial or rude. Someone who wasn’t, by and large, a stranger. 

Your mind went to one person and now you just couldn’t fucking shake the idea. Kept seeing it in your head. Kept thinking what if.

The plane from JFK landed back in Indianapolis for winter break. Snow was high outside, brilliant diamond-white against cerulean sky, icicles trimming the roof over the pick-up zone in great crystal stalactites. Your breath was fog in the air. And, right on time, god bless him, the familiar brown-and-tan Chevy Nomad van came rolling up with tire chains that growled against the heavy ice. 

Your heart jumped directly from your chest into your mouth. Eddie rolled down the passenger window. 

“Lookin’ to hitchhike, hot stuff?” He was grinning ear-to-ear, brown eyes crinkling. Ever the comedian. When you muddled through the dirty snow and tugged on the locked handle a few times, that grin got bigger. “Gas, grass, or ass. Can’t let you ride for free.”

“You let me outta the cold right now, Munson, or I’ll have to resort to violence.”

“Oooh, scary. Fine. Get in here.”

 He’d driven three hours out to get you, through a small snowstorm and over miles of ice, and three hours back. Not a single complaint. Not a peep. No, instead, Eddie was all sunshine smiles and wicked, warm cackles, asking about your adventures in the city and pulling animated reactions. His rings winked in the cold winter light slanting through the van’s dirty windshield, and his hair was just slightly longer (and drier) than when you’d left four months ago. But he was the same old Eddie, really. Taller than you by a million miles. Soft, broad lips with a sprinkle of new-growing mustache. Bitten fingernails, long eyelashes. A voice like tire rubber and tobacco smoke, which he reeked of. 

Funny. It was easy to downplay how much you missed him when you were sequestered in the warrenous dorms at NYU. Now, with him a foot away, watching his veiny hands tap tap tap on the wheel to the rhythm of ‘Rattlehead’? There was heat in your bones. Lapping across your skin, over your cheeks when you glanced down at his narrow thighs, the way they flexed when he accelerated. You hadn’t considered the what if throughout the years of being friends with him. Now it wouldn’t leave your brain. Now that what if brought new thoughts. New need-soaked mental imagery. 

Christ, you were hopeless. A single thought about Eddie’s legs flitted through your mind and it brought that roaring wall of unfulfilled heat back with a vengeance. You needed a drink, or several. Or maybe a mallet to the head.

When the Hawkins town sign blew past on the frosted asphalt road to town and Eddie offered you a beer, you leapt at the chance. Especially when he’d enthused about his uncle already booking it to his shift at the plant by now. It wasn’t until you were stomping snow off your boots on his stoop in the late afternoon sun, walking into his shared trailer and getting hit by that unequivocally Eddie smell that you realized the error of your ways. Maybe, just maybe, hanging out alone with the guy you’d been sexually fixating on for weeks in the place you imagined him in the most at night, a hand between your thighs in the dark, wasn’t a good idea. 

Eddie popped the top off a heineken in the narrow kitchen and handed it to you. His fingers were icy from the winter chill, smooth against yours. You hid the way your hand jerked a bit by bringing the drink up to your mouth, not even bothering to set down your carry-on before taking a hefty pull. 

“Two more months and I can buy these babies on my own. Twenty-one, here I come.” He boasted warmly. His mane of hair shimmied and shook as he fought with the cap on his own bottle: it popped off, plinking against the cabinet before escaping to the linoleum ground, and he scurried after it. You got a long lecherous view of his broad, lithely muscled back under his tight Megadeth shirt before he stood up again, blowing hair away from his mouth. “Won’t even need to use the shitty fake ID ol’ Ricky had made for me.”

“It is pretty crappy.” You agreed. Your mouth was dry. God, you two were so alone right now.

“Yeah. I’m, like, genuinely surprised nobody’s called me on it yet.”

“Is Charles still manning the gas station? That guy’s ancient. He probably doesn’t have the energy to call the cops on you when you’re buying a six-pack.”

Eddie snickered and fuck, it was like liquid sunlight, all soft and good. Another thing you hadn’t realized you’d missed, its effects diminished over the phone. “That’s totally it. Hadn’t even crossed my mind.” He leaned on the counter and sipped his beer, looking down at you and tilting his head to the side. His hair followed like water. “Damn. I kinda missed you, Agatha Christie.”

You swallowed, hard. It was difficult to be under his gaze, now. Knowing the fantasies you’d had. Those brown eyes dredged up every sweaty, slick-fingered moment of imagination between your sheets. “You expect me to be surprised by that?” You replied with a plastered-on smile. “The six-hour commute and free beer kind of gave it away.”

He thunked a hand against his chest. “Foiled again. You see right through me. C’mon.” His beer bottle clinked on the fridge as he passed you, swaggering to him room like he was king of the world. “I got a new strain shipment and a ‘lil freebee along with it. You’re gonna dig it, for sure.” He turned around in his bedroom doorway with dramatic fury, a hand clutching each side. “Two words: Purple haze.”

“Lead the way, king ditchweed.”

“It’s not ditchweed!”

It wasn’t ditchweed. It was, in fact, a nice, smooth smoke. That’s what you elected to focus on, passing the blunt between you and Eddie on his bed, the window cracked just enough to circulate the air but not enough to turn his cramped, messy room into a freezer. 

He was leaned up against the headboard, all relaxed, that smile-crinkle under his eyes near-permanent. Eddie took the blunt from you and took a hit, exhaling through his nose: vapors curled up the sides of it and into his curtain of dark hair. 

You remembered your fantasy from a week ago, about the ball of that thick nose pressed hard against your clit while his broad, flat tongue punched deep into your— you cleared your throat and shifted around, working sensation back into your buzzing cross-faded limbs. 

Well, the sun's gone down, and you're uptown. And you're just out runnin' around: I can't hardly stand it, you're troublin' me! Lux Interior was whining, Elvis-esque, on the record lazily spinning on Eddie’s player. “Okay.” You conceded. “This is good.”

“The song, or the weed?” He brought up a sock-clad foot to deflect your attempt at hitting him, laughing. “What? New York mighta changed your taste in music. Mighta made you forget how good the Cramps were, and shit.”

“You know I was talking about the weed, dummy.” Soft, sentimental affection in your voice was as unmistakable as anything. You just couldn’t help it. Eddie smiled, pressing his lips together and looking away: your eyes drifted to the tendons in his long neck. Beautiful. You wondered how they’d feel under your tongue. 

“So. Tell me about the city boys.” He said after a few moments of comfortable silence. When you groaned and put your face in your hands he chortled. “Seriously! Are they cool? Do they do slam poetry? I bet they’ve got you just hooked, huh. Ridin’ the subway and shit.”

“We don’t have to talk about boys, Eds. I can’t imagine that’s entertaining for you.” 

The metalhead shrugged and took another drag. “Can you blame me for wanting to keep tabs on your bodice-ripping paperback escapades?” He cupped his face, mimicking a cherub. “That’s just how good of a friend I am.”

“Alright, alright! You ham.” You turned that what if over again in your mind. “It’s been. Weird. I’ve met a lot of guys, sure, but. I dunno. They’re not… great?”

“Define not-great. Do I need to kick someone’s ass?”

“How honest do you want me to be?”

“Uhh, mega-honest. Obviously.”

“Eddie, they’re shit in bed.”

Eddie exploded into a cacophony of coughs, thumping his chest and bending away from the headboard. Only when he was done, eyes watering, did he speak, giving a disbelieving shake of his head. “Wow, that was… honest.”

“Hey, you asked.” The ragged hem of your comfy travel shirt was looking really interesting right now. You chose to focus on it. “I’ve, uh. Been with a couple guys, now, and each time, they’re just…” You sucked on your teeth, trying to phrase it tactfully. “Selfish. Like I’m not even there. Like they don’t care at all about me. And I’m half the fucking equation in that— that goddamn horizontal tango, you know?”

“That sounds pretty frustrating.” Eddie, for once in his life, sounded serious. His voice was soft, like he cared. 

“Trust me, it is. I thought about calling it quits a couple of times, y’know? But I’m human! I got… wants. And needs, and stuff.” The silence after your words was deafening, and the record switched softly-playing tracks. The what if came back. And fuck it, you were a little high and a little tipsy and hey, if bringing this up ruined everything, you’d be on a plane to New York in a few days anyway. “You know how you used to, like… joke? When we were high? That it was just you and me, whining about being lonely, and we should just.” You struggled. “Help each other out. Let off steam.”

Eddie stared. And stared. His eyebrows lifted. For a moment you were worried he would be frozen for eternity. “Uh. Okay. I, hah.” A laugh of disbelief jumped out. He pinched his nose and shook his head. “Okay, uh. If I’m, uhh… misinterpreting this, feel free to, like, punch me. Just… full force. You, uh…” God, how many interjections could this man use? “You wanna. Have sex with me?”

“It’s so weird, I know.” Your words were a blurting, flushed, panicked tumble. You hadn’t really registered it until he said it out loud. “It’s so totally weird, and I shouldn’t have said anything, seriously, just forget it—”

“No, no.” He wetted his lips nervously, that pink tongue darting out. Eddie’s eyes were wide. “No, uh. It’s— I get it. We all, like. Get a little backed up sometimes, right? Nothing to be ashamed of.”

“God, you did not just say backed up—”

“You know what I mean!” He ran a hand down his pink-flushed face, hunched forward and cross-legged, close enough to touch. Close enough to feel his body heat. “Jesus. Jesus shitfuck.”

“Eds, let’s just pretend I didn’t say—”

“We could. We could do it.” He interjected. That tongue between his lips again, trapped, a little slice of wet, shining pink. “Um. I, uh. If it’s something you wanted to do.”

Your stupid betrayer heart was drumming double time, making your palms clammy and face red. “You don’t have to say yes because of me.”

“Hey. You’re a chick, and I’m a dude, and that’s like, basic biology 101 so… I wanna.” His gaze, skittish, like he was a timid fawn, met yours for a second and it was like steel against flintstone. It sent a zing up your spine. “It’d just be like… helpin’ each other out, and shit, right?”

“Yeah.” God, your mouth was dry. You hadn’t felt like this, shaking like a virgin, since you were sixteen. You’d laid yourself emotionally bare in front of him. Told him you needed to be touched. Loved. And he’d said yes. “Just helping.”

A beat of silence. Then another. Then another. Eddie leaned forward and then you were kissing.

It was a wet, searing thing. Like a current of electricity was passing between you, hot and bright and so, so unlike anything you’d felt at fucking NYU. He grunted against your mouth, leaning forward into you. Then there was a hand on your knee and god, fuck, fuck your life, that wasn’t supposed to feel good. That wasn’t supposed to feel like your skin was lighting up gold under his palm, and yet here you were. Illuminated by his touch like a celibate. 

“You gotta,” Eddie spoke in breaths, crowding you against the thin wall of the trailer, heat bleeding from his chest through his shirt, “tell me what you need, ‘kay? Promise?”

“More.” You replied immediately. You grabbed at him on instinct, getting a fistful of his shirt, tugging it up, up over his head: he moved with you immediately, pulling it off like it offended him, and oh. His nipples were dusky-dark pink, his pectorals small hills. The skullish demon head over his heart was staring you down. 

Eddie pressed a sloppy kiss with searing lips to your upper cheek, eyes centimeters from yours. Looking at you all gentle and needy. “Can I take your shirt off? Please, I wanna—” He swallowed and his adam’s apple bobbed. “Wanna see you.”

“Yeah.” Your voice trembled like an autumn leaf. “You can see me, Eds.”

His hands were so broad and firm. They rolled your shirt up over your head: Eddie hissed through his teeth. “God, fuck. Fuck me, man. Look at you.” That dark brown gaze was locked on your tits, the way your bra cupped them together. “Those New Yorkers have no idea what they’re missing, man.”

“Eddie.” You said softly. His gaze snapped back up to you, framed by dark curls of hair. “Touch me.”

“Yeah. Yeah, I can, uh. I can do that.” His lips parted as he touched you, hot palms traveling up your ribs, over your shoulders. He dipped his head, planting kiss to your collarbones: it was like you’d been shot, a slow, scalding heat spreading from that point. Eddie held one of your hips and slowly, ever so slowly, eased you onto your back. You knew he could see your jackrabbit heart racing in the veins on your neck, see the way your shallow breaths were so fucking fast. 

When you pawed between you two, sticking an arm against his burning-hot stomach to fumble with the fly of his jeans, he made a choked noise and grabbed your wrist. Eddie was breathing heavily against your face, holding himself over you with one arm braced by your head. “Wait, wait.” He took a deep breath. Hairs tickled your face. “Uh, just. Just wait.”

“I wanna touch to you too, Eds.”

He looked like the words falling from your lips were as good as head. “Jesus— not yet. Not— I don’t wanna end this too fast, and if you keep, haah—” another expletive when you pressed fingers blindly to his fly, down against his dick, “— doing that, that’s where we’re gonna end up.”

With a hum of frustration at being denied, you tilted your chin up in a demand for another kiss: he conceded without a fight, saliva-slick lips heady and addictive. You felt like you could kiss him forever, like this: the curtains drawn, early dusk darkening the room, his skin against yours sending frissons from your head to your toes. You pawed like an animal. Fingers clutching his back, feeling his shoulder blades move under his skin, his ribs expand and contract. 

When you brought a thigh out, knee bending to hook a leg around his narrow hips, he seemed to make up his mind. “Fuck, okay.” He broke the kiss again. “D’ya think— can I take your pants off?”

“Yeah. Yeah, god, Eddie, please.”

Like it was a goddamn race Eddie had your buttons undone and you were helping him shuffle your pants down and throwing them to the floor. He made another noise in the back of his throat and rested himself at your side, up on one elbow. Eddie put a hand on your sternum and slowly, agonizingly slowly, dragged it down. His face turned up to you every once in a while: checking in. Making sure you were still here with him. His fingers caught on the hem of your underwear for a second and you sucked in a breath, but he kept going. 

Feather-light pads landed on the lips of your pussy over your underwear. So light you could barely feel it. They traced up and down in slow, careful circles. Eddie looked almost hypnotized by the fact that he was even touching you: he watched his own hand like it was a magic show. 

“Tease.” You huffed out, bucking up slightly against his fingers. 

That crooked smile returned. “Nah.” He looked at you with affection. “Just tryin’ to make it good.” Those finger pads went up, up, up. Eddie tracked your expression, lips parting gently when your eyes bulged because oh, yep, that was your clit he’d caught for a second. He focused in on that little stiffening nub, snug under damp fabric, and the muscles in your stomach curled. “Ohhh, fuck. You like that, huh? Yeah?”

“Yeah.” You barely eked it out. “Feels nice.”

“Bet nobody gave her any attention at your college, huh?” His words hit you like thunderbolts, and you swore you felt yourself clench around nothing. Eddie’s tongue was trapped between his teeth again. He thumbed your clit round and round in circles. 

“Eds.” Your voice was a warning, desperate though it was. “More, c’mon.”

“Tell me what you need.” Maybe with someone else the words would have come out commanding, domineering. But Eddie was looking down at you with those big wet eyes like you’d hung the moon, like he’d do anything to please you, lips parted all rosebud-soft. 

“Get inside me. Please. Just— your fingers, put them in, please.”

Still laid out long beside you, his fingers crept underneath the hem of your underwear, rasping against your trimmed bush as he slowly pulled the fabric down, down, down, till it pooled around your knees. “Fuck.” He said again, intelligently. “Fuck. Fuck. Can’t believe you’re letting me do this.” A finger ran down the parting line of your folds as he spoke and you jerked like a woman possessed. “Can’t believe you’re letting me touch you, god.”

His finger hooked at your soft, sopping, willing entrance. “Wait.” You blurted. His veiny hand froze. “Two. Two, uh, fingers, Eds.”

“Okay, yeah. Okay.” His voice shook. And then those long, calloused, beautiful fucking fingers were delving into your flesh, just thick enough for a little stretch, a little delicious addictive burn: if you weren’t so hyper turned-on by the sight you’d be embarrassed about how absolutely sopping you were. 

Your walls fluttered around his fingers and he looked like he’d died and gone to heaven. “So warm.” Was all he got out unevenly. There was no warning before he was slowly and rhythmically fucking you with his fingers, the slick squelch loud as thunder. The sight of his broad hand disappearing between your gently parted thighs was... addictive. You held his forearm tight as he fingered you, your grip moving with each slow thrust. 

This was fantasy. This was perfect fucking gratification. Sweating nearly-naked on his messy duvet, surrounded by his quintessential smell, Eddie inches away from you all laid out with a tent in his jeans so hard it looked like it hurt. This was just like your daydreams. Better, even.

You let your head fall to the side, where he was laid out all long next to you. It rested against his chest. You could feel the hum of his hummingbird heart behind the flesh and bone. “Eddie...” the word was a breathy sigh, but it earned him dropping his head over yours, pressing a wild, wet kiss to the crown of your head, leaving his mouth there. He groaned into your hair when you squirmed, thighs shifting, clenching around his fingers. 

“Shit— sorry, hold on, thing is fuckin— killin’ me, hurts so bad.” He muttered hoarsely, pulling fingers from your heat to fumble with his fly. His digits were too slick to get a grip on the zipper and oh man if that didn’t do something for you. You reached across your stomach without a second thought and pulled it open, and hello.

Eddie was so hard it looked like it ached. The head of this fat cock peeked out from the top of his briefs, so red it was nearly purple. It was shiny, smeared with drooling precum that slicked up the turtleneck skin around it. 

You thumbed the shaft over the fabric. Eddie sounded like he’d been socked in the gut. “Ohhhhkay.” He wheezed out. You crept upwards, dragging down his underwear and popping his bobbing cock out. It twitched, kissing his hair-dusted abdomen for a moment. God. You’d never wanted anything in your mouth so badly. You bet he tasted good: like salt and skin and Eddie.

The noises he made when you cupped him, running a loose grip up and down his shaft in lazy pumps, should have been illegal. They made the soft, wanton and slick heat between your legs feel like a bonfire, like an ancient calling demanding you do what humans had been doing for centuries before you. 

You wanted to swallow him to the base. Wanted to stay there for eternity, feeling him throb under your fingers and feeling his fingers in you. But poor Eds was on a timer. And you wanted as much as you could get. 

“Eds...” You trailed off, looking at him, how he held himself coiled-up tight while you touched his dick, like he was focusing so hard on not cumming. His wide eyes glittered in the low light. You kissed him again: quick and messy. “Can we...”

“Yeah.” His reply came out as a squeak and he cleared his throat. “Yeah. Please.” 

“We need a condom.” 

“Right.”

He was off the bed like a shot, shaking the mattress, flinging open bedside table drawers like a mob croney coming to collect debt money. He rifled through their contents with extreme (almost desperate) prejudice. The prize was found: a shiny gold-foil-wrapped Trojan. Seeing him stand at the foot of the bed, framed between your knees in front of you, dick twitching in the air and foil between his teeth? That was a sight that was going to be burned into your mind for the rest of your life. 

Eddie tore open the condom with his teeth and spat out the corner. He fumbled to roll it on with shaking hands. “Shit.” He hissed, the condom springing off several times. It was like someone had set him to vibrate. 

Your hand closed over his bigger one. Slowly, together, you got the condom on: shiny and off-white on his cock. 

He was still huffing like a racehorse. You couldn’t blame him: your body was alight, all active like you’d run a marathon. You didn’t know what it was: it was never like this with other guys. Little touches didn’t set you on fire. Gentle, caring fingers didn’t make you gush. 

With Eddie’s help you laid flat onto your back once more and eased your hips to the edge of the mattress. He stood between them, thighs pressed against mattress cover. His hands were warm on your thighs: kneading them, drifting up and down a few times while he looked down at you, his chest patchy with blush. 

“You sure?” He asked. There was anxiety in his voice. This wasn’t just being handsy. This was all the way. 

“Yeah. ‘M sure.” When he let his cock rest on your pelvis, hefty and scalding, you swallowed hard. “It’s you, Eds. I trust you.”

Eddie bit down on his lower lip, hard, and lined himself up with you. It was only when the head of his cock nudged your slick entrance and your pussy clenched rhythmically in reply, in excited hopefulness, that you realized how true that statement was. 

That’s why this was taking you apart. Not because it was sex. Or good sex. Because it was Eddie. 

He pushed into you slow with a hand clamped down on each thigh and it was like seeing god. The breach was fat and full, heat on heat, no resistance. You both made noises. He fit you like a goddamn glove. 

Eddie swore, over and over, when he got up to the hilt. His eyes clenched shut, face screwed up, steeling himself against the overwhelming pleasure. And for you, that was agony.

“Eds, c’mon, please, please move.” You weren’t above begging. 

“Fuuuuuck me, man.” He groaned out all high and breathless, and then he was clenching his teeth and snapping forward, hips bumping against you so hard it made the fucking bed sway. He fucked you like he was trying to keep you, like he was trying to make this the best you’d ever had: he even canted his hips up, hunting for that spot inside you that he’d read made girls go mad. 

“So good, so wet, god, so good,” Eddie rambled like a lunatic, a drop of drool falling free from his red lips. “So fucking warm, huh, aren’t you? Yeah you are. So nice and warm, warm on my dick, fuck, love how fucking soaked you are.”

You were in heaven. No, somewhere better. Somewhere where sex wasn’t a sin and you were getting your guts rearranged by your best friend, the guy who knew you the best, who saw you, the real you. “Eddieeeee.” You almost couldn’t get it out, breath punched out of you so deliciously with each thrust. “My clit, Eds, touch it.”

He brought a hand to it instantly, fingers sliding through the wet where his cock spread you open and dragging it up in rough, wild circles around your clit. You could see all his dark-eyed focus was on you: fucking you, filling you, giving it to you exactly how you had needed it for so long. Taking care of you. 

Fuck, that thought was gonna make you cum.  

“More, please,” You begged, “so close, Eds, so—”

“God, fuck me man, you— you have no idea how long I’ve wanted to see you cum, oh my god.” Eddie spoke like he couldn’t stop himself, all disjointed and panting over the pornographic slap of his balls on your ass. “Wanted to see it for so long, please, please, lemme see it, lemme see you—”

His begging, his disclosure, his desperation— you went careening off the edge into the abyss while he rubbed frantically at your clit, and you swore your eyes rolled up into the back of your skull.

There it was. The thing you’d been craving, bone-deep, for months. 

The perfect orgasm. 

Drifting back to earth, you had a body made of melted butter. A body made of summer sun and amber. Pure contentment radiated through every single immaculate cell. 

Eddie was still fucking you. Short, uneven thrusts, sweat beads rolling down his chest, long, wild hair sticking to his face. His brows were down in focus, lost in sensation. You lifted two shaking legs and wrapped them around his waist, locking him into your snug cunt. He looked up at you in hazy, pleasure-drunk shock, and then you squeezed down on him as hard as you could. 

“Fuck!” Was all he barked out, and then he was doubling over, staggering forward against your hips, pelvis stuttering. Gripping your thighs like lifelines. He thrust once, twice, three times more, and then Eddie— your exhausted, beanstalk-tall, wild-child Eddie— collapsed on top of you, heavy as all hell. The crown of his head was right under your nose, and you could feel his ribs against yours. 

He couldn’t see you right now. You let yourself smile fondly, satedly, into his hair. 

Together you breathed raggedly, radiating body heat. The clock in the kitchen, past the ajar door, continued to tick. The silence was no longer charged: it was honest, relaxed. Fulfilled. 

“You’re so heavy.” You said eventually. 

“Thanks. I’ve been working out.” Eddie’s voice was muffled in your tits. After a time, though, he raised his head. Propped himself up a bit on his elbows over you. Spat hair out of his mouth. “So, uh.” His lips opened and closed like a fish, awkward and unsure. “Was that, um. Good for you, or...?”

“Of course it was good, Eddie. Obviously! Don’t ask stupid questions.” You replied with mock seriousness: an age-old bit you’d always done with him. A sign that hey, no camaraderie lost, right?

He played along, looking mock wounded. “Well, I didn’t want to assume. It’s not like it went on for an hour, or ended with a squirt, or—”

“Okay, okay, I get it.” You laughed. He was staring at you in that fond way again. The guitar pick on his necklace tickled your clavicle. “I mean... we have the rest of the night, right?”

He looked stunned. He blinked a few times. “I mean— yeah, like, if that’s something you want to—”

“I want to.”

Another blink. The tongue made its reappearance. “Okay. We can... okay. Yeah.” The slow grin began its climb onto his broad face. “We can totally do that. All-nighter.”

“Don’t get cocky.”

The Munson landline was a little ragged, but it worked. “Yeah, mom, I can’t wait to see you too.” You said into the phone tucked between your ear and bare shoulder as you leaned against the kitchenette counter, hand in a bag of chips. You watched Eddie fight a box of waffles for their delicious cargo and pop four into the toaster. “The snow’s just real bad right now. You know how it is. I’ll get in tomorrow, I swear.”

Eddie slowly shook his head, hands on his hips, hitting the disapproving church-mom pose. He mouthed for shame and wagged a finger. You threw a chip at him. It plunked ineffectually off his bare chest. 

“Love your too, mom. Yeah, I’ll sleep warmly tonight. Bye.”

“Oh, you’ll be sleepin’ warm, alright.” 

“I knew you were gonna say that!”

“How could you possibly know what I was gonna say?”

The two of you returned to amicability, trading jabs and scoffs and sparkling smiles: but in your mind, somewhere in the far back, you held on to what he’d divulged in the heat and fervor of the moment. That he’d wanted to see you cum. Wanted to see it for ages. 

He’d thought about you. Like you’d thought about him. You tucked that away for later. Now, though? Now you were laughing your ass off while Eddie juggled burning-hot waffles with his bare hands before dumping them onto a plate and flapping his singed palms about like a bird. 

So. How do you ask your friend to fuck you? Turns out, sometimes, you just ask.

[aziraphales-library]

First of all, love your blog. As many has said, I have found some amazing fics off of here.

Second, would you happen to know any fics that have to do with discorporation? Like, through plagues or wars? I have been craving some angst recently.

Thank you if you consider this, much appreciated!

Thanks! We have a #temporary character death tag, so do check that out! Here are some angsty sics featuring discorporation to add...

now can these broken wings free me by Bentley26 (T)

Crowley and Aziraphale meet back up in Rome in 140 CE. After an enjoyable lunch, Crowley isn't ready for his time with Aziraphale to end, so he invites him to accompany him to a chariot race being held at Circus Maximus. If he's spending time with his angel, what could possibly go wrong?

Lead Us (Not) Into Temptation, But Deliver Us From Evil by OtterFi (T)

“So… that’s it? We’re just… an angel and demon, following our orders then?” Aziraphale asks quietly, dazed by how the pleasant conversation turned so contentious so quickly. Crowley turns to walk away. “‘S what we’ve always been, hasn’t it?” “So, ah, I suppose I’ll, I’ll see you out there then?” This causes them to pause as the implications sink in. Aziraphale isn’t just going to be witnessing the destruction of a city. He is going to be witnessing the how… and by whom. “Pray that you don’t…” they mutter as they go. And if they were talking to Aziraphale or to themself, it isn't clear.

In 33AD in Rome, a demon sports a new haircut and an angel (to both their surprises) invites them to lunch. But this is not that story. This story takes place a few years before, where finally after 4000 years of paths crossing, the two finally intersect. But such an event is not a small one, and takes no small event for it to happen.

at the edge of the water by viperinz (G)

“Hello, dearest. Do you mind miracling a cold pack for me? I’m afraid I can’t focus enough to do it.” Crowley swallows, his eyes wide. He does what he’s asked to do, because of course he doesn’t mind. He doesn’t mind at all. He walks to the side Aziraphale is facing, sitting down on the edge of the bed. He hands the cold pack to Aziraphale, who gratefully takes it. “Thank you,” he whispers, and Crowley watches as he puts the pack on his right thigh. Aziraphale sighs in relief, but his face still conveys how much pain he still feels. And, Crowley gets it now. The pain that needed a cold pack, the way that Aziraphale was limping. It was an injury, wasn’t it?

Crowley notices that there's something going on with Aziraphale's leg. He realizes the pain lies deeper than he first thought it would.

La Petite Mort by PanDemonicPanDemonium (E)

Crowley moves from being more allosexual through to demi/greysexual or greyace, as people can change how they feel about things over time. There’s some moderately graphic violence and temporary discorporation but no MCD. there are *minor* character deaths (eg canon Ligur and similar). The fic is canon adjacent/compliant. Detailing events not seen in book/show, but also putting those in context of the character’s feelings during some key canon events. It is largely a tale of personal growth and discovery, and what it means to love another through changing circumstances over time.

Everything Is Temporary (But Love Will Never Die) by The_Bentley (E)

Crowley found he was unable to keep from thinking about the whole situation to the east.  Would Aziraphale’s sense of duty get the best of him?  Lately he had been telling Crowley he didn’t feel he was performing his angelic duities the best way he could . . . And that’s exactly what he was doing wasn’t it?  He overthought his partaking of the pleasures of Earthly life, and now he was going to stay in Jerusalem doing penance for not being a good little angel as he should be. It is 70 AD and the unrest between the Roman Empire and its province of Judea is going to come to a swift end with the destruction of Jerusalem. Crowley flees to Rome, seeing exactly how all this is going to turn out. Aziraphale feels compelled to aid the citizens of the Holy City despite Crowley's pleas that he abandon his cause. Angel and demon are about to get caught up in desperate events that could prove disastrous for them both.

The Beauty of a Broken Angel by Wanderingbard3 (T)

Aziraphale watches the fallen being cast out of heaven and despite the clear message that he's not supposed to feel bad about what's happening, he does. The experience teaches him to distrust his instincts and feelings, awakening the belief in him that there's something fundamentally and dangerously wrong with him. The pleasure he experiences through being embodied and interacting with the world corroborate his fears. He spends the next 6000 years fighting his "flaws", trying to be what's expected of him, and afraid that at any moment he'll be found out. The only time he feels like he can be himself is when he's around a certain demon, the Great Tempter of the Garden of Eden himself. Unfortunately, that only confirms Aziraphale's suspicions about himself. Only a bad angel would feel more comfortable on Earth with a demon than in heaven surrounded by proper angels. But through the course of those years, and the events of the cannon, Aziraphale finds the courage and understanding to be himself, learning that hiding and pretending are far more damaging in the end than facing the consequences of being himself.

- Mod D