#sometimes it’s like indicative of life sometimes it means something dangerous

[andromeddog]

I love all the little stars you have on your art they fit in so well no matter the vibe of the drawing and I love how it’s almost a little trademark of your work

:)

ajfjskfjd thank you so much!!!! it really feels like a piece isn’t complete without a star or two or five. idk how it really started but now i’m completely obsessed with them… if that’s a trademark of my work then i’ll take it

[dcxdpdabbles]

For the Danny=Ra's Al Ghul thing. Danny comes from a world that only looks like ours on the surface level until you get alternate names like Lake Eerie while we have Lake Erie or the alternate histories like Pandora or even Vortex

Now in our world, Sherlock is used sarcastically whenever someone points out something obvious. Danny might come from a world where Sherlock Holmes isn't as popular and the word "Detective" is used in place of Sherlock. Cue him using that word often and using the same context when dealing with Bruce or Tim to really sell that he's an alternate Ra's

"No shit, Detective"

The words slipped from the boy's lips in such a deadpan tone that for a second, Bruce half thought he imagined it. There was one thing to be told that an alternative version of Ra's al Ghul was caught battling it out with Green Arrow; it was another to be confronted with a teenager who spoke in the confusing lingo of his kids.

Bruce had seen Child-Ghul lose his mind over Go-Gurt alongside his friends- the assassins so dangerous they all earned the nickname of demons- when they happened to come by it in a regular grocery store. They had appeared like normal teenagers visiting the United States for the first time.

In fact, Bruce had yet to be aware that he was observing Ra's. He had been running around Gotham attempting to find the visitors and had accidentally overlooked them because of their genuine glee at finding tubed yogurt.

Even Dick and Damian had seen the same group but also dismissed them. It was strange to fit a version of Ra's Al Ghul, who was happily using hoverboards in the park while his friends recorded the great mass murder thousands of years old.

Tim was the only one who figured him out on sight. Bruce wonders if that was due to his son being incredibly intelligent or if Tim's hatred of Ra ran that deep. If it was the latter, Bruce would bet that even in his next life, Tim would clock Ra's in a crowd.

Red Robin had tracked Child-Ghul and his crew to an old cemetery, where they had been busy cleaning up gravestones. They had even fixed up broken stones and placed the proper offerings for each person.

How they knew which person followed which religion in life was a mystery.

Tim suspected they were attempting to rob another grave. Maybe they had known the people buried there- with Ra's being as young again- or they were trying to do some weird magic thing to save the planet again.

Bruce wasn't so sure.

He observed that the highly trained children cleaned up the cemetery and occasionally had random bursts of dance parties between the graves. He didn't think they were trying to steal anything- instead, they seemed to be suffering from mental illnesses.

Sometimes, one of them would speak to the air, asking it for an opinion on a new grave site. They might have been just regular people in their own world- Bruce had encountered civilian versions of himself and his kids before, so why no villains?- but the idea that Ra's Al Ghul had meta powers, any version, made him paranoid.

It didn't seem possible that Ra's didn't abuse his powers somehow. What could the strangers possibly be doing if it wasn't for world domination?

He got tired of watching and waiting for answers that weren't coming. Batman would force the children to tell him. He waited until the Child-Ghul wandered far away from his group, a bucket and brush in hand, and he arrived at a giant moss-covered stone.

Bruce watched as he greeted the air before sliding to his knees and scrubbing the moss away. His form was all wrong.

That was not a perfect crouch or position that would generate a fast reaction in case he needed it. In fact, the way the boy curved over the stone indicated he would suffer from backache if he sat like that for too long.

The Ra's Al Ghul would never have been caught dead in a similar weakened posture.

Did that mean this version of Ra's had no formal training?

"What do you think you're doing? " He growled, stepping out of the shadows. The boy jumped a good foot in the air, checking another box in his theory of not being trained.

He watched as Child-Ghul spun around, brush held in a sloppy throwing form, before freezing at the sight of him. At once, the tension eased out of his shoulders. He didn't seem afraid of Bruce, which was rather strange.

He built this entire persona to intimidate people at first glance. Yes, he had redesigned himself after learning kids were afraid of him, too, but the original design survived long enough for him to wield his fear tactic as a weapon.

"Ugh, what do you think you're doing walking around looking like that?" the boy sasses, gesturing at Bruce's whole being. "You look like a three-year-old drew you."

That was.....a rather creative insult.

"What are your plans here" He demands, ignoring the comment.

The boy raises a brow. His face twists into an expression he saw on Ra's Al Ghul before, and for a moment, Bruce wonders if Tim had made a mistake. How could Ra's look so humble. "What do you think I'm doing with a brush and a bucket of soap water?"

"You're cleaning the gravestone."

"No shit, Detective"

The phrase was like cold ice water pouring down his back. His pronunciation, facial expressions, and body language were exactly like Ra's.

Tim was right.

"Why?" He demands, stepping closer to tower over the boy.

"If you don't get out of my personal space, Imaginary Vampire Grandpa, we will have a problem." Child-Ghul hisses at him. For a moment Bruce is reminded of Damian.

"Try me."

Child-Ghul's grin is sharp and mad as he yells. "Escort this man to the door!"

Bruce raises his fist, ready for anything, only to literally feel invisible hands grab at him, dragging him out of the cemetery. He is flung out of the gate with the watching teenagers snickering.

Bruce bites back a curse. Of course, a child version of Ra's has ghosts working for him. He'll have to call the Justice League Dark for this. He hopes Zatanna is the one who answers and not her husband.

[ghostlyferrettarot]

° . ⁺ . ✦ .The 12th House and

Your Dreams .⁺ . ✦ .⁺. °.

❗️All the observations in this post are based on personal experience and research, it's completely fine if it doesn't resonate with everyone❗️

✨️Paid Services ✨️ (Natal charts and tarot readings) Open!

🩰If you like my work you can support me through Ko-fi. Thank you!🩰

🩷Masterlist🩷

🩷Aries in the 12th House: Aries is the first sign of the zodiac and is associated with the element of fire; their dreams usually have adventures and it is common to see many new people or places in them. This type of dream generally indicates a great desire to succeed in something and the possibility of doing so, although there will be obstacles that must be overcome, especially if an accident occurs when you are in them.

🩷Taurus in the 12th House: Taurus in the 12th House tend to have great connections with nature, which is why they tend to dream about animals. Although their dreams are interpretive, the truth is that depending on the animal, they may tend to a goal in life or a certain situation. For example, if they dream about animals that fly, they are almost always desires for independence, although in the case of bats, it may predict some upcoming danger.

🩷Gemini in the 12th House: Their dreams reveal a strong need to find their own truth, to connect with the world of the subconscious. They are imaginative and creative. They tend to dream of fantasy and surreal moments, and create new and unexpected worlds.

🩷Cancer in the 12th House: Their dreams often indicate that you want to find a spiritual home, that you need to connect with your family, your roots and your past. You are intuitive, sensitive and tend to have very deep dreams; sometimes their dreams are linked to people who are no longer part of their life.

🩷Leo in the 12th House: Their dreams reveal a deep need to connect with your creative side. They are passionate, so their dreams tend to be linked to the creation of new ideas and often in the exposition of some kind. These people also tend to dream of fires, firefighters, lit candles or flames. This means that they are warning you to be more careful.

🩷Virgo in the 12th House: Their dreams indicate that you aspire to personal development through connection with your spiritual side. They are analytical and perfectionist, and you think you need to work more on your self-esteem and self-confidence, which is why they often dream about what their ideal life is.

🩷Libra in the 12th House: When Libra is in the 12th house it usually reveals that you need to find balance in your spiritual life. For this reason their dreams usually indicate equity, balance or elegance. When they feel threatened or feel danger about their threat or relationship, their subconscious reacts and they begin to dream of confinement or situations that limit their freedom.

🩷Scorpio in the 12th House: Their dreams usually reveal that you have a strong need to connect with your unconscious world, to work on your emotional problems. You are very sensitive and your intuition never fails, so premonitory dreams or visions are not uncommon when it comes to Scorpios. They can dream about moments that have not yet occurred or people they do not yet know.

🩷Sagittarius in the 12th House: reveals the ability to find spirituality in the outside world, through connection with nature, history and philosophy. You are adventurous by nature. Similar to Leo, your dreams are reflected with fire, but also with travel or various activities.

🩷Capricorn in the 12th House: indicates that you have a strong need to give purpose to your life. You are disciplined and ambitious and you feel the need to grow and set challenges for yourself in order to grow emotionally, for this reason your dreams are connected to your environment and personal life. From dreaming about people in your environment to dreaming about your ambitions, the dreams of these natives are linked to their position and professional value at some point.

🩷Aquarius in the 12th House: reveals that you have a strong connection with your spirituality, which is expressed in an authentic and special way. You are innovative and creative, and you believe that the world can change if you strive for it. Dreaming about clouds, extraterrestrial issues, or of an ethereal nature. It is a very flexible sign and could be indicating the need to put your feet on the ground.

🩷Pisces in the 12th House: indicates that you have a natural connection with the spiritual world. You are empathetic, sensitive and intuitive. You may even have developed some unusual abilities related to the mind, which is why you often dream about situations from the past or situations that have marked you in some way. Also, you dream about significant people and you consider that they mark you in a certain way.

[doumadono]

Warnings: intermittent explosive disorder (IED), mentions of PTSD, a lot of angst, Bakugo dealing with impulsive anger outbursts, Bakugo being mean, aged-up Bakugo, pro hero Dynamight

A/N: yesterday, while chatting with my partner about Bakugo, a thought struck me (though it's just a personal theory, subject to disagreement) - Bakugo might exhibit signs of intermittent explosive disorder. His frequent bouts of anger, his brusque and often unkind demeanor, and occasional lack of control over his temper could be indicative of this. These headcanons delves into Bakugo's life as the second-ranked pro hero, Dynamight, as he grapples with the aftermath of the war

MY HERO ACADEMIA MASTERLIST

You meet Bakugo when he's the second-ranked pro hero, right after Deku. You're drawn to his charisma, confident personality, and the way he becomes protective of you.

Unfortunately, over time, you start to notice a lot of things that are just not right. His temper is extremely short, and he can explode with anger no matter what happens. It could be something he dislikes or someone doing something he doesn't approve of, and it immediately triggers a massive rage outburst. This can lead to him losing control of his own quirk, resulting in him destroying things.

After a routine checkup, the doctor suggests taking some tests, and the results are devastating: Bakugo is diagnosed with intermittent explosive disorder.

Naturally, this news infuriates him, and when he returns to your shared flat, he destroys his own little office in a fit of rage.

Bakugo's intermittent explosive disorder makes it difficult for him to control his anger, and he will often lash out in violent outbursts.

Bakugo's intermittent explosive disorder manifests in unpredictable outbursts of anger and aggression, often triggered by seemingly minor frustrations or perceived slights. His explosions can range from verbal tirades to physical violence, leaving destruction in their wake.

During his outbursts, Bakugo lashes out verbally and physically, unaware of the damage he inflicts on those around him.

Despite his efforts to control it, Bakugo's explosive temper often alienates him from his friends and loved ones.

His relationships with people he considered colleagues or sometimes friends become strained as they struggle to understand and cope with his unpredictable behavior anymore.

You're often the target of his outbursts but refuses to give up on him, believing that beneath his volatile exterior lies a wounded soul in need of understanding and support.

Even Mitsuki tries to intervene. "Honey, you need help. This isn't healthy for you or anyone around you! We're here for you, son. We want to help you get through this."

But of course Katsuki declines. "I don't need your help! I can handle this on my own!"

Bakugo's disorder takes a toll on your relationship, testing the limits of your love and patience. There are moments when you feel helpless and overwhelmed, questioning whether you can handle the emotional rollercoaster of being with him.

You learn to recognize the signs of an impending outburst and try to diffuse the situation before it escalates, using gentle words and gestures of affection to calm him down.

Bakugo's disorder has left him feeling like a monster, like a beast that's been unleashed upon the world with no hope of redemption. He's consumed by guilt and self-loathing, convinced that he's unworthy of love or forgiveness.

Deep down, Bakugo is aware of his condition and the pain he causes, but his overwhelming anger blinds him to the consequences of his actions.

Bakugo's disorder causes him to push you away frequently, convinced that he's too dangerous to be around. He believes that he's protecting you by keeping his distance, even though it breaks his heart to do so.

Bakugo's disorder becomes a constant source of tension between the two of you, with every interaction tinged with the fear of setting him off.

Finally, after months of suggesting and almost begging, Bakugo agrees to try something new and allows you to take him to a psychiatrist. The doctor prescribes him Fluoxetine, and after some time of taking the medication, his rage and anger outbursts become smaller and less frequent.

You don't just leave it there. You suggest he should think about therapy, and after some reluctance, he agrees.

After attending several sessions, you both discover that Bakugo's disorder is linked to PTSD he developed post-war and after being dead for a while. Suddenly, everything becomes clear, and you not only understand your boyfriend better but also know how to help him effectively. Hearing about his traumatic experiences brings tears to your eyes, and you cry a river upon realizing the extent of his suffering.

Over time, and with the combined efforts of you, his parents, and his friends, Katsuki starts to make progress in managing his disorders and becomes a bit calmer with his emotions. Of course, everyone remains super careful not to do anything that might set him off.

Being Dynamight's partner is tough, and you know it better than anyone. But despite the challenges, you're not about to leave him. He's the love of your life after all, with all his strengths and weaknesses.

[tragedy-of-commons]

“You are a genius at understanding me” + Dr. Ratio

"You are a genius at misunderstanding me."

Veritas Ratio does not so much as look up from the flickering static screens hovering in the air above his desk. Well, your desk, but you've been allowing him to occupy it since he started staying longer hours at your place. The only indication that he even heard you is the movement of his hand that scrubs over his (probably exhausted) face.

"What is there to misunderstand? Please, enlighten me," he says, meaning every word. He stops emoting, flicking his wrist to the right fluidly, screens going with it - they fade quickly from view as they're shut off. "From my comprehension, you're going to throw your life away on some fool's errand."

"Fool's errand?" you echo, voice quivering as indescribable hurt punctures your gut. "That's what you see my passion as? An exercise in futility?"

Veritas' voice tightens as he pointedly turns around to face you and your aggrieved countenance, but there is no rash anger or malice present. There's something else you can't place instead. "That is not what I said. I am calling the action of you throwing yourself headfirst into the Nihility for the sake of research some fool's errand. I value your intelligence. Surely, you must know that--"

Swallowing the lump in your throat, you clutch your various portfolios and folders a bit tighter in your arms. Despite your earlier comment, sometimes it's easy to forget the caliber of the person you're debating with. Dr. Ratio of the Intelligentsia Guild is easily the brightest mind you've ever had the privilege of working with. (Or maybe you're doing the very thing he abhors - worshiping a genius and underselling yourself.)

With bright minds, comes points of contention.

"That this is the last thing we need to accomplish before we can make proper contact with IX? Yes, I do," you stand your ground. "Don't try to sway me. Common sense would tell anyone that it's dangerous, but you'd tell me that the pursuit of knowledge is anything but smooth sailing."

Veritas regards you and your reply without immediate dismissal, so you know he's treating this with the respect it deserves - not to say he doesn't do so normally, but you can feel the atmosphere shift into something highly gravitational, weighing down on the width of your shoulders.

"I can't stop you," unsure of his footing, he takes an experimental step closer, observing your reaction and making sure you're not against it. When you do nothing but stand there with a heavy heart and harrowed expression, he closes the remaining distance. "And I won't attempt to try, considering you've already made up your mind. It would be a disservice to your character."

Veritas is beautiful. Up close, he gazes at you through thick lashes and violet fringe - even if those vibrant eyes of his are ringed with darkness and his skin is a shade paler than you remember. This project has consumed you both... agitation is inevitable. The fluorescents (which you switched for a type to remedy eye strain a month ago) flicker and hum discordantly as he pries one of your hands away from your chest.

"You knew," you surmise. Veritas rakes a calloused thumb over your palm, reverent and reluctant all the same.

"You wanted me to know," he states matter-of-factly. "Leaving out the approval for the funding where I've made myself comfortable is not the gentle let-down you hoped for."

"I'm sorry."

"If I've made you feel the need to apologize, then I am in need of an adjustment. Don't be sorry; be anything else," he begs (or the closest you've ever heard to it).

You close your quivering fingers over his hand - it just feels like the right thing to do at this moment. Gut feelings aren't evidence by any stretch of the imagination, but based on almost nothing, you've decided that Veritas Ratio is going to miss you. You're not set to explore the trenches of oblivion anytime soon, really. The process of getting your endeavor approved through the proper channels is a lengthy one, but it already feels like you're lightyears apart from him.

You say nothing, so he continues, voice gentle. "I suppose I just don't want you to leave, knowing you may not return."

He's never been one to sugarcoat things, but hearing the bold truth spoken aloud to your face with all jargon stripped away rattles your core in an animalistic way. It makes you want to shove your greatest aspirations into the nearest closet, if only for a moment. If only to see his expression lighten.

Is that juvenile? Yes. Is there room for feelings like that in your relationship? Probably not. Do you care? Yes, but you care about your dreams more.

Is there room for him in your dreams? That remains to be seen.

"I know," you smile, brow knit together in sympathy. "Come on, let's get you to bed. It's past your bedtime, you know."

That earns you a nose exhale that almost sounds like a laugh. It's good enough, at least for tonight. In the morning, perhaps you'll broach the topic again, sidled up to Veritas' side as you criticize the way he uses your coffee machine or the way he lingers a little too long near the threshold of your home after it's well past time to go.

You still have time. You'll have to squeeze Veritas in there while you can.

🏷️: @akutasoda, @aviiarie, @lowkeyren

a/n: this is probably the most excited i've been to write in a while HELPAOSDAS. whoever you are, anon, thank you. omg this prompt... galaxy brain 9000 iq. i have trouble characterizing dr. ratio sometimes, but i hope you enjoy what i came up with!

event post here

[rodolfoparras]

how about giving price the best head he ever received in his life? 🤭

Thinking about what it takes for Price to give up control in the bedroom | 18+, MINORS DNI

As much as Price doesn’t mind switching up rolls in the bedroom, it’s very rare for him to do so. Reason being that he likes giving you pleasure. He likes making you cum, whether it be with his hands, cock or mouth.

You don’t mind him being in control, in fact you happily allow him to do so, especially if it means that you’ll be cumming for the next couple of hours.

However, sometimes you want to take care of him as well. Especially when you see the paperwork piling up on his desk, the way his office door stays more often closed than open and how cold his side of the bed has been getting lately.

As mentioned before Price doesn’t mind giving up control, that doesn’t mean it’s easy for him to do so.

So when you stand behind him in his office chair and start kissing his neck, he’s already asking if you want him to take care of you instead. As your kisses trail down to his chest, reaching dangerously close to his happy trail, he’ll ask you again “You sure you don’t want me to take care of you instead. It's been a while hasn't it?”

Again it’s not that he doesn’t want you to take care of him. It’s just second nature for him to be the one to do it instead. And as much as you enjoy the sight of his weeping cock pressing up against his pants as he buries himself between your legs, this time you want to be the one on your knees with your lips wrapped around his dick.

The trick to taking control is to be sure of what you want here. The slightest hint of hesitation- any indication that you’re considering taking him up on his offer and he’s flipping you around in the chair and burying his head between your legs.

“No John not today, want to take care of you instead “

He gazes into your eyes as if searching for hints of doubt but when there’s none to be found he nods and relaxes in his seat, finally accepting what you’re offering him.

Since it takes him a while to get into subspace, focus on teasing him instead. Kiss his neck, kiss down his chest, drag your nails down his stomach and along the expanse of his thighs, You can even slap his chest, thighs or even dick to make him gasp oh so prettily.

By the time you’re on your knees, he’s shaking, panting and eyes pleading for you to just do something.

“Yes or no, John?”

“Yes, yes for Christ sake yes” he cries out, head thrown back back and thrusting his hips up in the air, pathetically looking for some sort of friction since you’ve been teasing him for the past half hour.

He’d be so worked up at this point, cock straining against his pants and darkening the spot where it rests at and you can see how he’s giving you more and more control the further along you go.

Eventually you decide to show him some mercy by unbuckling his pants and pulling them down to his knees along with the boxers he’s wearing. The cold air raises goosebumps all across his skin but but it also gives some sort of relief to his burning hot skin.

You start off by placing small pecks around his tip as you wrap one hand around the base of his dick, not moving but just teasingly resting there. His dick is flushed an angry red, hard and twitching in your hand. It’s clear that he’s really worked up and that’s exactly why you hold off on taking him into your mouth.

It’s clearly something he’s not happy about since he’s whimpering, begging and bucking his hips into your hand. “Please - just please”

“But the fun will end so soon if I do it” you say with a teasing smile plastered on your lips before painstakingly slowly stroking him root to tip til your thumb can easily and teasingly swipe across his tip.

He gasps at that, legs slightly kicking as he shudders from your touch.

“No, I promise, I promise, I won’t- won’t cum yet”

“You promise me?” it’s not that you’re asking for reassurance here but instead you’re challenging him as you slowly stroke all the way down the length. To further tease him, you tactically place your thumb on top of the vein that’s angrily protruding at the side of his dick, teasingly tracing it as you stroke him.

“How about you convince me hm?” You say still with a teasing smile on your lips as you give him a couple of generous pumps with your fist.

“I thought you- you wanted this” he sobs out, throwing an arm over his eyes as he bucks up into the palm of your hand.

Your eyes spot the precum collecting on his tip, and for a second you forget to respond to him as you eagerly lean in to get a taste of it. It doesn’t take much for you to taste the salty and bitter flavor that you are oh so familiar with and you can’t help but moan around his dick, sending jolts of pleasure coursing through his body.

“Of course I want to, pretty” you say, once you pull away, a string of saliva connecting you to him.

“Fuck fuck fuck don’t stop” he cries, slightly kicking his legs in frustration as he drags his hand across his face.

“ I’m not sure if you really want it. I mean you were so adamant about giving me head…” you say, clearly still teasing as you once again place pecks around the tip.

“No I want it- please I want you to suck my dick “

You hum around his dick, as if considering what he’s saying but really you’re looking to cause more jolts of pleasure to course through his body. And you clearly succeed in doing so as he furiously shakes his head and bucks his hips into your mouth “Are you really sure?”

“Fuck yes please, just please”

You smile up at him, the words “good boy” falling from your lips as you finally wrap your lips around his dick and fully sink down on him.

“Oh- Jesus Christ”

He jerks in response, still a bit worked up from being teased so much and you wonder if you should pull away to give him a moment to collect himself but you decide against it. You grab onto his hips, setting a steady pace with him, brows furrowing in concentration as you gauge every little reaction from him.

His hair is tousled, and sticking to his forehead, cheeks flushed and pupils blown wide but you also notice him chewing his lips. You already know it’s his attempt at muffling the little sounds trying to slip past his lips, always feeling a bit shy when it comes to showing just how much he enjoys when you take care of him.

You slowly pull away which has his eyes widening, and he hurriedly grabs onto your arm as he says “why did you stop now?”

You smile up at him as you see the desperation on his face. And you make a little show of licking the smeared precum on your lips before you respond to him “I won’t do this if you stay quiet the entire time” you say before you’re once again paying attention to his neglected dick, tongue dragging along the underside of his shaft, and watching his body jerk in response to your touch.

“I won’t stay quiet. Just please- ”

“You promise?” You say still teasingly tracing patterns on his dick.

“Yes yes for Christ’s sake I promise”

You once again sink down on his length, gauging his reaction as you do it.

At first he’s back to chewing his lips, before you nails sink into his thighs in warning and he throws his head back on the chair as moans finally start to escape him freely.

Just as he gets used to the pace you’ve set, you grab onto his hand and place it at the back of your neck, lips going slack and body willfully relaxing as you accommodate to his length.

“Jesus Christ” is all he says to your unspoken request.

At first he’s unmoving, entranced by the sight in front of him, mouth agape, unblinking, almost holding his breath but it doesn’t take long for him to slowly start thrusting his hips.

Slowly but surely he’ll increase his pace and lose himself in the feeling of your warm wet mouth so snuggly wrapped around his dick, blabbering out incoherent pleas and requests and straight up sobbing in his chair.

Despite literally being down on your knees, you’re the one who’s in control here, hands commanding for him to keep going, eyes reassuring him with just a look that you’ll be here to catch him when he’s teetering at the edge of release.

Once you get him into that state, keep pulling orgasms out of him. It’s so rare for you to get him like this so might as well take advantage of it, until there’s nothing left but pitiful spurts of cum coming from him.

Aftercare is so important since he’s so far gone into subspace. He will nuzzle into your neck as his legs and arms clinging onto your frame. He just wants to be cared for and feel safe.

“Let’s get you cleaned up and tucked into bed, little soldier

[Bonus: Always wants to taste himself afterwards, will even make a show out of the whole thing without meaning to. He’ll lean in for a kiss, tongue peeking out to lick your lips or suck on your tongue as soft moans escape him

“Tastes just like me”]

[a-little-ray-of-fantasy]

Barnaby facts (confirmed by the devs)

Hello! Since I was bored and it's making me so happy to see Barnaby getting so much love lately, I've decided to collect all the info I have about him! I most likely missed something, so if you have info I haven't put here, or got wrong, let me know, ok? ^^

Anyhoo, here we go! **}

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

- Barnaby, despite his name, is not a barn owl. He's actually a long eared owl.

- Barnaby isn't his real name; he used to have a different one, back in his alive days. One of the drawings featuring him has him surrounded by many names starting with "B".

- Said illustration has "Who am I?" hidden among the names and words such as "Where" and "Help", hinting at something linked to his identity is torturing him.

- It's been stated that Barnaby is the way he is because of a dangerous experiment that corrupted then killed him, changing him completely as a result.

- Barnaby is asexual homoromantic, and is genderfluid: while he goes primarly by "he/him", he accepts any pronoun.

- He considers his Barnaboos as his "little pretties", and often offers help or advice if they need it; of course, his help may not be as helpful as he believes...

- He hates cheesecake.

- He's not a fan of rootbeer neither; he will serve it in his parties, but he personally won't drink it.

- His favorite food is eye scream, and favorite Halloween treat are caramel apples.

- As for ice cream, his favorite flavor is Strawberry Shortcake.

- Speaking of food, yeah, he doesn't need to eat, nor sleep. But still likes doing it anyway.

- Barnaby is a confirmed sleepyhead. He naps a lot, but never in an ordinary position, or in his bed; he tends to sleep in various gravity bending position, especially upside down.

- Meaning, yes, when Billie comes to steal his gem, he was sleeping!

- And when he sleeps, he apparently snores and hoots.

- While hugging him would result in a kill from him, Ash confirmed Barnaby is a hugger! Hugging him would still involve him squeezing or stabbing you to death, tho'. And he'd feel both soft and slimy to the touch.

- Barnaby is around 10-11ft tall, and with his size-shifting abilities, he can be any height he wants; when he was alive tho', he's as tall as Aristotle, more or less.

- He doesn't need glasses anymore, but sometimes will wear them because they make him look smart. They also tend to follow the eyes' movements.

- Barnaby is very emotional: while it won't stop him from trying to kill you, he will cry if he sees you cry. Ironically, he would comfort you until you feel better. Then he'll kill you.

- It's been confirmed that Barnaby's biggest fear has "already come true".

- His tears are orange, just like his eyes.

- Barnaby is not one to open his heart easily, but the moment he does, there's many ways to reach it. He's quite romantic, tho' not in the usual way: if you gave him a dead rat, he'd consider it a very romantic gesture!

- It's been stated he doesn't have a partner now, but in life, "maybe".

- When it comes to children, it's been confirmed he'd be the best caregiver alongside Dutch, althought for him "it's complicated".

- He apparently had a child of his own, if the picture posted about him during "Father's Day" is any indication. What happened to the little one hasn't been revealed yet.

- Apparently he's the least judgemental character in BBU!

- If he had a TV, it'd be old timey, and he'd watch something really random. Like ducks.

- Barnaby loves small critters; Ash specifically mentions they always linked him with guinea pigs. And indeed, Barnaby had a science guinea pig co-worker once, that turned into an actual guinea pig because of a reckless experiment, and he took care of them.

- He's able to control reality; it's unclear if it's his gem's doing, or his magic power as a ghost.

- In any case, he's now the most powerful character in the game

- Back in his alive days, he was a magic researcher and scientist.

- He actually owned the gem before he turned into a ghost. He even experimented on it, and it's suggested that actually sealed his fate.

- A lot of songs from Oingo Boingo and Lemon Demon fit him: Ash specifically mentioned "Weird Science" as really "Barnabycore"

- Barnaby is autistic: he stims by hooting and flapping his wings when he's excited.

- When he's scared or nervous, he tends to cover himself with his wings.

- Katie said that, if he were a candy, he'd be a sour blueberry.

- Barnaby lives in his own dimension, with his own mansion and everything. And he can travel between realities. Although one comment from Katie suggests he's trapped in there, but it's too early to say for sure.

- According to the devs, he was inspired by Weird Al Yankovic, Lewis from Mystery Skulls and Discord from MLP.

- No, he wasn't inspired by Snatcher, since the development of BBU has lasted longer than A Hat in Time. The two of them canonically know each other tho': only problem is, Snatcher hates Barnaby's guts and finds him too clingy, while the owl adores him.

- He canonically knows Wally Darling from "Welcome Home" and Kira from "Far Fetched" too, since he can travel between realities.

- Barnaby has his guests come to his home by portals that pop just below them. He apparently has kidnapped people before, every once in a while.

- He'd get along well with Dutch.

- It's left vague whether he knows Fantoccio or not.

- He actually has never met Arthur nor Aristotle before the game.

- In any case, he'd find Aristotle really funny, and wouldn't take them seriously.

-- Barnaby is aware of the player, and can break the 4th wall. And that's why only he can use Twitter.

- Whenever he writes on Twitter, hE WRiTSE LIkE THIS!!!

- Barnaby is REALLY mischeavous, and finds no problem in cheating in games. But if YOU cheat, then he gets ticked off.

- This suggests he's also a sore loser.

- Judging by his expression in the cutscene, he doesn't like being interrupted.

- It's been confirmed he smells like meldew. :P

- He could fake glitching out, then attack the moment you come to check out what's going on with him.

- He HATES party crashers. Also scarecrows: not good for conversations. And he's not interested in their crops.

- He can play the organ: Katie even suggested that if you hear it in the background of his chapter, that's him playing it.

- He was a young prodigy, back when he was alive!

- Don't be fooled by his goofy antics: he's very smart, still loves making experiments and can speak a lot of languages.

- Ironically, he hates skulls: he finds them icky.

- He was 25-26 when he died; he's been dead for 100+ years.

- Time is very important for him: that's why there's so many clocks in his parlor. It's been suggested he sees partying as a way to keep track with time.

- Despite that, Barnaby himself in the contest video has briefly stated he tends to forget what year it is.

- There's tons of pictures in his manor: all of them depict him, suggesting he's good at painting.

- Katie has noted that Barnaby "remembers everything". When asked if there's something he'd rather forget, they stated that "what he wants and what he needs are very different things".

- His family is "infinite", apparently. Then again, one of his very early descriptions stated he's got no friends nor family to speak about...

- He's been described as "self interested"

- When asked which character had the most trauma, without giving hints about being traumatized, Katie confirmed Barnaby as the answer, even stating his story makes them the saddest, alongside Fanto's.

- His favorite color is pink!

- He can change himself into lots of animals, and can even clone himself!

- When asked if he can talk to his alive self, Katie said it's "technically possible".

- Back when he was alive, he was noted as a dork and a hardworker, so much so he'd even pull one-nighters before making speeches for his research. Katie jokingly suggested that's why he parties so much: it's to make up for lost time!

- He had a different way of speaking, back when he was alive. And his icks were probably different as well.

- When he gets overwhelmed, he has a shutdown, and goes completely silent.

- At early stages, Barnaby was supposed to be a bug.

- The moment his design as a ghost was chosen, he went through a lot of palette options, like a pale blue color like he came from "The Haunted Mansion", or all colorful like "Dia de los Muertos". Ultimately they settled for his currently shadowy look because, not only it's easier to animate, it was in line with his backstory.

- Barnaby can melt. It's still unclear what triggers such a reaction, but some pictures hint that it's tied to his psychological state.

- Barnaby has been noted that he can talk fancy, but he's not eloquent.

- His favorite dance is the charleston!

- Ash has stated that in the game he is going to be depicted doing something similiar to "singing himself to sleep".

- Apparently he still makes pellets from his mouth. Dead or not, he's still an owl.

- He often puts emphasis on words, sometimes even making his bowtie spin.

- In the latest Twitter post featuring him, when you decode the garbled message, you can read: "Barnaby lies Along in his thoughts, Resting On the floor Neglected". Not only this hints at his turmoil, it also hides the word "BARON". It's unclear if it's his name, a title he possessed, or someone or thing else entirely connected to him.

- He loves recieving scretches on his head.

- Barnaby can cook, but he'll more often than not leave that to the Barnaboos.

- He's not that interested in gardening, even tho' he owns a greenhouse.

- He'd enjoy playing "Luigi's Mansion"!

- In Super Smash Bros. he'd main Meta Knight, even relating to him.

- He'd happily accept smoochies, apparently!

- His favorite party game is "Pin the tail on the owl".

- If you are his friend, he'd consider it even more of a reason to stay in the manor and never leave!

- He has claimed that he's used to give himself self love and compliments, since no one else does it. That, and his tendency to ask others for hugs or if they need a hug to calm down, suggests he's affection starved.

- He tends to react to compliments from fans by smiling bashfully, or happily shouting that he's popular.

- Katie stated that his favorite movie would be something unexpected, like "Marnie & Me" or "Up".

- Barnaby can see everything from the eyes of the plushies that look like him. So, if you bought one... watch out...

- Among his early designs, he also looked like a completely different owl, tall and austere looking, who was the guardian of the forest. It was changed because the devs wanted a goofy boss that could stand out among the others.

- Having said that, it seems Barnaby was the last boss to be officially revealed, and initially the game only had Elaine, Dutch and Fantoccio as the main bosses.

- Barnaby LOVES puns. A good deal of the lines he says when you get defeated in his chase contain a pun.

- You try being slick by stating you want to die of old age? Too bad: Barnaby will make you age rapidly. Despite that, Katie confirmed he doesn't have time related powers...

- Katie and Ash confirmed Barnaby can fly. And such a sight is apparently really hilarious.

- Barnaby loves shiny trinkets: if he sees a sparkly thread, he'll fixate on it and will follow its movements. It's like with a cat following a laser.

- Barnaby has teeth; they're orange and sharp, and come out when he's ticked off, or especially devious.

- When he was alive, he only used he/him pronouns. He became comfortable with all pronouns after he died. He's always been interested in men.

- This goes without saying, but still: he operates on cartoon logic. He can use both his wings AND his feet as hands. Even both feet can act as hands, even when they appear off camera. How? Because it's Barnaby and he can do anything he sets his mind into!

[darlingdekarios]

batter up.

rating: explicit. 18+ only. length: 6,003 content: Negan Smith x f!reader, Savior!Negan, colorful language, canon-accurate violence, nsfw, smut [v fingering, f receiving oral, unprotected p in v, creampie, cockwarming], various kinks [praise, biting, spit, breeding]

it should have been obvious that batting lessons with Negan would end up like this.

You’d known exactly what your salacious tone indicated the moment the words had left your lips. 

“You ever gonna show me how you swing that bat of yours around, Negan?”

The drawl of his name from your mouth – your fuckin’ mouth like a sailor – ticked his lips upward into an amused smile, eyes regarding you up and down slowly. He leaned back in the chair he sat in, motioning with a finger for you to come closer before returning his attention to the object in question, a wet cloth removing remnants of blood and brains from the wood.

The chill down your spine should have been from fear. That was far from the case.

You were new. Shiny. You’d been alone for an impressive amount of time, and it had ruined your people skills. You were mostly quiet, kept to yourself, carried your weight for the group, and hardly anyone ever needed to talk to you. But when they did – hell hath no fury. You had a sharp tongue and little filter when that pretty mouth of yours did open. 

You found yourself in the presence of his laughter often when you spoke. You always got your way. You were quickly his favorite toy.

He wondered – often – about the life you had before everything went to hell in a handbasket. He wondered what job you had, what your damn hobbies were, if you had a husband, maybe some kids runnin’ around. It wasn’t his business. He never asked. 

“You ever gonna ask nicely?”

You sat atop the table in front of him, crossing your legs slowly, dramatically, temptingly, relishing in the way his eyes dragged across your legs in the short shorts you’d been wearing in the July heat for a moment as you twisted your upper body toward him, leaning your weight on one arm. 

His hand that rested on the surface twitched toward yours. 

“I’d love it if you’d be sweet enough to show me how good you are with that bat,” you spoke lowly, eyes burning into his. His pupils blew wider as you spoke each word. You wished you could be close enough to see that each time you spoke. “Pretty please.”

It was a wonder to this new world that he hadn’t fucked you yet. 

“Gonna take patrol later,” he began, eyes finding yours once again. With wide eyes and semi-pouted lips you were practically begging him. It was dangerous how he’d give you whatever you wanted. “You can come with me if you promise not to get yourself killed.”

You smiled, fingers sliding closer to his, lightly gliding over the back of his hand feather light. You noticed the hitch in his breath, the temptation to point it out almost too strong to ignore. You opted to give the man before you a pass. 

“Guess somebody better keep me safe then, huh?”

“Like you’re not capable of taking care of yourself.”

He knew he’d fallen into some kinda trap when his response brought your signature, mischievous grin. He was perfectly content – at least for the moment – not to even try to climb out. 

“Oh, I’m capable,” you responded carefully, flipping his hand over to run your fingers over his palm. His hands were large – much larger than yours – and rough. Battle scarred. It wasn’t the first time you’d fantasized about how they felt. “But sometimes it’s just so much nicer for someone else to take care of you.”

It didn’t take him deciphering a fucking code or something to know exactly what the double meaning behind your words was. His self-control was stretching terribly thin – the thread holding it together would snap soon. 

An opening door behind you made you jump back to your feet, removing yourself to a reasonable distance before you were joined by the company. His right hand entered the room a moment after, and you offered Negan another smile before turning to exit. He called a reminder to you before you disappeared.

“Meet me tonight and we’ll go have some fun.”

Whatever his words meant, you were certain the sentiment was true.

“Thought you were standin’ me up.”

He always knew when you approached, even when no one else could seem to hear your footsteps – it sparked curiosity in you to ponder exactly when he’d become so familiar with you, and what else he’d memorized. You dropped down from the wall you walked across directly behind him, boots landing on the ground with a thud. 

“That’d be stupid of me,” you replied, circling him to stand in front of him. It was seldom you stood this close to him – the fact that he towered over you only making you want to be closer. “Don’t wanna make the big man angry.”

He caught the subtle shake to your voice and smirked, dimples on full display. Fuck him. 

“Smart woman,” he complimented, his voice a little too honey-thick for you to handle. You caught yourself momentarily breathless, his eyes now burning into yours. “Now, I know you took care of yourself real well while you were alone. But tonight, the first rule, you’re with me – and outside you’ve gotta listen. I don’t wanna hear that pretty mouth of yours run.”

You only smiled up at him, looking up into his eyes between your lashes as you blinked languidly, bottom lip pulling between your teeth. You nodded in agreement – he remained transfixed on your lips.

“You’re the boss,” you asserted, zipping up the tattered leather jacket you wore to shield from the night air and offer extra protection against bites. He loved when you pulled the jacket on, and often craved to see you swallowed in his instead. He only smiled at your response – he knew you’d run your mouth at some point still.

“Second rule,” he started, eyes intense. “I don’t want you more than an arm’s length away.”

“My arm length or yours?”

Infuriating. You didn’t even make it through the rules without breaking rule one – and what made it more annoying was the fact he was still amused by it.  

“We’ll say yours since they’re shorter,” he replied, reaching to grasp one of your hands and raise your arm upward, stepping closer to demonstrate the distance he desired. You took a step even closer than that – closer would be fine, too.

“Yes, sir,” you replied lowly, tilting your head slightly as you gazed up at him, melting at the feeling of his hand engulfing yours. 

He tried to ignore the rush of heat that spread across his body.

“We’re going into the woods. Don’t want you to get lost,” he tried to continue, to ignore the name you’d called him. The feeling that fluttered in his stomach insisted to be acknowledged. 

“You big softie. Let’s go,” you replied, turning to face the gate and motioning to the guard to let you through. You turned your head to glance up at him and offer that playful smile again, eyes sparkling in the moonlight. “Teach me how to be scary.”

“Oh, you’re plenty scary,” he replied as the two of you exited. “Just gonna teach ya how to do it with a bat.”

It was mostly a comfortable silence as the two of you made your way through the thick trees. He didn’t go far – maybe a 2-mile radius was all it took for him to feel the two of you had covered enough ground. 

You watched intently, biting at your bottom lip several times as he swung the bat to handle walkers coming your way. By the twelfth one he’d began to show off, pulling his jacket off to reveal the flexing muscles in the arms of his blood-stained white t-shirt as he swung Lucille over his head with a particularly hard landing blow. 

You weren’t sure he ever looked sexier than when splashes of red painted his face.

It got easier the longer you went on, the conversation flowing between the two of you – the flirtatious nature always lurking beneath, begging to be unleashed fully. The two of you got so comfortable even talking about your lives before was an option. It all came back to the star – to where you two were now.

“Been with us a few weeks now.”

“Approaching week eight,” you replied, adjusting the strap of the gun you still wore slung over your back. Negan had already remarked that you didn’t need to bring it along. 

“Remind me how long you were alone before that,” he feigned a normal amount of interest, though inside he was congratulating himself for finally getting the answers he wanted. 

“Eight months, give or take,” your reply caused him to whistle lowly, an appreciative sound. It was impressive to be alone for any amount of time, let alone eight months. You’d been rough when he’d found you – but even he didn’t know just how that time had passed for you. “Stopped keepin’ count.”

“You were alone all winter?”

“Uh huh,” you confirmed, glancing up at him to briefly meet his gaze. He shook his head, huffing out a deep breath as he thought about your words. It had been hell for him from the start – for everyone, really…but you’d been living a different nightmare altogether.  

“You’re an impressive woman, you know that?” he drawled, your cheeks heating up over his flirtatious affection. Even as he walked he focused his attention on you – it was too much, and yet just his eyes on you wasn’t nearly enough. “Who’s the last person you were with?” 

You paused, but not for long – not longer than an arm’s length.

“Used to be my neighbor,” you replied simply, eyes suddenly focused on anything else. Already Fall, the leaves had long turned their seasonal vibrant shades. There was still some beauty in the world, and you were keen on admiring it as often as the universe allowed.

“He help you when it all went to shit?”

You knew the question was coming, and it still sucked the wind from you, replacing it with a familiar feeling of dread. It was a conversation you’d avoided for weeks now – it was coming eventually. 

“He took me when it all went to shit,” you replied simply, stopping in your tracks to pick some ripe berries on a nearby bush. He was intent to watch you work and happy for the break on his feet. “Kept me in his basement. Called me his wife.”

“Jesus, I…”

“Do not apologize,” you snapped, avoiding his eyes now. A hint of blue caught your eye close to the ground and you quickly shined a flashlight, confirming berries were growing on a bush. You motioned with your head to Negan to follow. “He ain’t worth it.”

“You escape then?” he questioned, burying the urge to ask you exactly what being the man’s wife meant exactly – he had some idea. For all the horrors in the outside world, the thought of the horrors you’d faced in a basement for months made his blood boil. It made his skin crawl worse than any walker he’d seen so far.

And he’s seen a lot of nasty ones.

He hoped the world had claimed a piece of shit like that. 

“In a manner of speaking,” you replied as you crouched down, picking one of the ripe berries and rolling it between your fingers to test it before popping it into your mouth, savoring the sweetness. As you picked the berries you alternated between pocketing them in a pouch on your jacket and handing them to him. “I killed him one night. Just…had enough. Snapped. Ripped his throat out with m’teeth.”

Yeah. You were definitely his favorite.

Snarling approaching disrupted the conversation, both of your heads snapping in the direction of the sound as you each took a step inward to be closer to one another. Your hand reached out, grasping around his that held the smooth wood of the bat. 

“Lemme try this one,” you stated, smiling up at him with a wicked twinkle in your eye that pulled at his heart. He slid the weapon into your hand slowly, watching as you turned on your heel to stalk your way toward the growling, grotesque man – Gary, from the looks of his RadioShack nametag. He was certain he could remember a comic book character or two that had swung their hips as they wound up a bat at their side as you were now. 

The first crack of wood against skull had him clapping, looking on with pride.

“There you go,” he encouraged, his voice a tone you were certain you’d only heard him use with you. “Look at ya.”

The second remark was intended to stay mental, but left his mouth as a low, appreciative grumble, sending a wave of heat straight to your core. His steps carried him close enough behind you to intervene if he was needed, and he was close enough now to your back you could feel his breath on your neck. 

“Got another one comin’,” he pointed over your shoulder toward the tree line, smiling when you immediately took a step toward it.

“I got ‘er.”

The first under your belt now, you understood the weight of the barbwire-wrapped wood, and the first swing was perfect precise, enough force connecting with its head to send it to the ground. Every swing after that was purely for show – for him. He knew it, and he loved it. 

“Atta girl,” he cooed, walking closer behind you again. “Goddamn natural.”

“All done,” you breathed out heavy as you stood straight, admiring your work for a moment before beginning to turn back to him. “Gonna have to get me one of these.”

You had barely turned and finished your words when his hands grasped your face, pulling you in to press his lips to yours hard and desperate – starved. The gasp that slipped from you was muffled by his lips as you returned his kiss just as heavy, clutching to the collar of his jacket with the hand that didn’t hold Lucille. 

One of his hands slid to your hip first, pulling you closer to him as his fingers brushed against your jaw, his tongue gliding along the seam of your lips to encourage them apart. As your mouth fell open for him and he tasted you his hand continued downward, grasping your backside and pulling you in closer. 

The bulge at his waist was unmistakable, the mere sight of you bloodied and vicious causing his cock to strain in his pants immediately. You released your hold on his collar as your tongue danced with his to slide it downward, cupping the sizable bulge and giving a light squeeze. The groan that rumbled in his chest had you clenching your thighs together tighter, desperate for some pressure of your own. 

“Oh, you fuckin’ naughty thing…” he grumbled against your lips, releasing you just enough so you both could catch your breath. He nipped at your bottom lip lightly, pulling a quiet moan from your lips. You felt his cock twitch in his jeans. “Couldn’t help myself, you looked so damn sexy swingin’ Lucille around like that…”

You pressed your lips to his again, eager to show him your appreciation for his continued praise but finding the words didn’t exist in your mind – all that existed was need for him. To your dismay a hearty chuckle rumbled in his chest, his lips curving to a smile against yours. 

“Can’t fuck you right here, darlin’,” he cooed, nipping at your bottom lip again out of refusal to outright return your kiss. “Too many dead in these trees. Not the kind of eyes I want on us.”

When you gave his cock another slow squeeze his eyes narrowed as he grunted, his hips thrusting forward to meet your hand for the pressure. Your eyes burned into his as he gazed down at your lips. “We should head back to the sanctuary then.”

“We should,” the hesitation was evident in his voice, the desire making it honey thick and low. His blown pupils and deep breaths combined with that voice let you know everything he really wanted. He leaned forward to press a long, heavy kiss to your lips, his hand sliding to the back of your neck where he caressed you gently. The whine that fell from your lips only made him grin more. 

It should have been obvious that batting lessons with him would end up like this.

“‘C’mere, pretty girl,” Negan instructed the moment the two of you were tucked away into his room together, his legs sprawled wide as he dropped onto the leather couch that sprawled across his room. He’d been supporting you with an arm around your waist nearly the entire walk back, through the gates and to his room, your legs shaking just from kissing him. 

He took every opportunity the two of you were within sight of someone else since returning to show things had escalated, pressing kisses to your temple, and grasping your waist so tight and so low – friendly behavior was left in the past. He’d even considered pinning you to the fence and fucking you right there – for anyone awake in the middle of the night or on guard to see – but he decided against it. 

For now, anyway. 

You nodded as you made your way to him, climbing into his lap carefully, your legs straddling his thighs as your arms locked around his neck. One of his hands found a home on your cheek again, cradling it gently as his callused thumb brushed across your cheekbone. You leaned to his affection as naturally as you breathed. 

“Did such a good job out there,” he complimented with a lightness to his voice you hadn’t heard before, not even when the two of you had been alone. While there was always something behind his gaze – appreciation, desire, hunger – now it held so many things so entirely new. There was a newfound intimacy to how his eyes roamed your face, searching your own for matching emotions. “Gonna have to take you out with me some more.”

He drank in the smile his compliment earned, breathing out deeply as you turned your head to press your lips to his palm. Your eyes continued to burn into his. “Whenever you ask me to.”

“Oh, you’re not gonna be out of my sight after tonight, sweetheart,” he stated, his tone unwavering and absolute. You believed him. “Attached at the hip.”

“Mm,” you hummed as you pondered his words, eyes raking over his face. One of your hands slid to rest on his cheek as well, your thumb brushing over his bottom lip gently. You were teasing him, merely taunting – he knew. “I don’t remember us talkin’ about that.”

You’d seen this smirk on his face before. Now, as his face inched closer and his breath ghosted over your lips, it sent a flood of arousal straight to your aching cunt – you’d been wet since the kiss in the woods. 

“You won’t wanna be away from me after tonight,” he laughed, soft and low as his hand slid from your cheek to the back of your head, pulling you closer to claim your lips in a heavy kiss again. 

“Hope you’re prepared to back up all that talk, Negan,” you breathed against his lips when he released you, leaning closer to nip at his bottom lip as you slowly rocked your hips against his waist, grinding your covered, soaked core against the throbbing erection in his pants.

“Fuck,” he groaned, his hand not holding the back of your head seizing hold on your hip to steady you as you continued to rut against him. His tone was dark, low – much-more desire filled than it had ever been for you. “You need somethin’, pretty girl? Could ask nicely.”

“Need you, Negan,” you whined, grinding down particularly slowly as one of your hands began to work at the zipper of his jacket. “S-so fucking tired of waitin’. Don’t make me beg.”

“Bet you’d sound pretty though.”

You opened your mind to protest but were quickly silenced by another heavy kisses, his tongue immediately seeking yours out for the newfound dance he loved as his hands abandoned their hold on you to start removing your clothes. 

He instructed you to stand just long enough to remove your blood-stained pants and t-shirt, his eyes running over your legs and lingering on your thighs and core. He pointed with a thick finger to the bed behind him, rising to his feet to remove his own jacket and shirt as you did what was instructed, sitting on the bed. 

You’d figured his room was comfortable – but this was luxury. 

“Lemme see,” he breathed in this new husky tone as his shirt was pulled over his head, his muscles flexing as he did so. The scars that graffitied his torso raised more questions – you wanted to ask about each one, press kisses to them, run your fingers on the particularly nasty ones – you’d do that later. For now, you leaned back on the bed slightly, propping yourself up with one arm as you spread your legs for him. 

His tongue darted out from his lips as his eyes ran over your soaked core, his steps carrying him closer until he was in front of you, within reach of his hands again. One of his hands ran up the inside of your thigh slowly, the other reaching to push a finger against your chin to tilt your head upward.

“Look at me,” he cooed, cupping your cheek again as he ran two fingers through your soaked folds, spreading your arousal through them more with an appreciative hum. “So wet for me already. Walked back from the woods like this I’ll bet.”

You whimpered lightly as he continued to run his fingers back and forth, breathing out shaky as you nodded up at him, pupils blown wide and lips fallen open. He took advantage of your partially open mouth to slip a finger in, groaning when you immediately closed your lips around it to suck lightly. 

He’d waited too damn long for this.

He slipped his index finger into your waiting heat, cock twitching in his pants when he felt your tight walls engulf his finger. A moan sounded in your chest that vibrated around his finger as you swirled your tongue – his eyes seemed to grow darker by the second. When he’d fully sheathed his finger in you he curled it, stroking your soft inner walls as he removed his finger to hear you moan. 

“Tight little thing, aren’t you?” he cooed, removing his finger before he pumped it back into you with the company of a second, curling them both to stroke behind your clit. You keened, hips thrusting forward to meet his hand that was soaked with your arousal, head surging forward to claim his lips with your own kiss. 

He chuckled against your lips as he began to pump his fingers, ensuring the palm of his hand rubbed against your clit with each re-entry. Touch-starved and desperate your legs were already shaking, your tongue eagerly tasting his mouth. You hardly registered his free hand drop to his own waistband, working his belt and tight jeans free before kicking them to the floor.

The sound of the fabric hitting the ground was your realization, and without freeing him from the kiss you reached between your bodies to wrap your fingers around his long, thick shaft, your thumb rubbing along the pronounced vein. He pulled away from your lips to groan deeply, looking into your eyes with a fire ignited so bright it burned.

Another moan fell from your lips with a particularly hard thrust of his fingers, though it didn’t stop you from removing your hand from his cock to spit on it. Wrapping your hand back around his throbbing length you began to stroke him slowly, grasping with the perfect amount of pressure to cause his eyes to roll back slightly. 

“Fuckin’ hell, baby,” he groaned, running his nose along your jaw before pressing a kiss beneath your ear. “You – fuck – you keep doin’ that and I’m not gonna be able to taste you. Don’t make me tie those pretty hands up.”

You whimpered and defiantly gave his cock several more strokes before releasing your hold, unwilling to have your hands restricted – the first time with him, anyway. As he sank to his knees on the hard floor in front of you, you drank in the sight, keening when he scissored his fingers inside of you. He pressed a kiss to your knee before he trailed his lips upward, inhaling the scent of your arousal deep into his lungs. 

“Negan…” you began to protest slightly in bashfulness, and he only chuckled in response, pressing a kiss high up on your thigh before he gave your clit a gentle lick. 

“Hush,” he cooed, removing his fingers from you to run his tongue through your folds slowly with a low, appreciative groan. 

You forgot any argument you had intended to present when he finished the swipe of his tongue by flicking the warm muscle against your clit again before sucking it briefly. He savored every moan he pulled from you, how your breath began to become desperate as he fucked his tongue into your wet heat repeatedly, reaching to rub his thumb around your clit repeatedly and fast. He was like a man starved for months in the way his tongue devoured you, alternating between fucking into you and licking slowly to swallow as much of your arousal as he could.

“Good god you taste good,” he complimented from between your legs, pulling back to speak and press a kiss to your clit, then your inner thigh. He nipped at the spot carefully, just enough to bruise. “No fuckin’ way I’m lettin’ this pussy go. No way.”

“Maybe you’ll change your mind when you fuck me,” you managed to stammer out, your voice pitched higher as he reached to rub your clit again, smiling up at you wickedly. You were already glowing for him practically…he couldn’t wait to see you fucked out.

He was torn between wondering if your mouth was still running, he wasn’t doing his job well enough; or if your mouth wasn’t running if he’d even like you anymore. 

“Not a chance in hell,” he murmured before slipping his fingers back into you, leaning forward to claim your clit between his lips again with a soft suck.

It wasn’t long before your legs were shaking on either side of his head, clenching harder as the pressure built up in you heavier and heavier, threatening to burst. When he nipped at the sensitive bundle of nerves with his teeth lightly it erupted, your orgasm flooding from you as you moaned loudly. White overtook your vision, heat swallowing you whole. 

He removed his fingers to connect his mouth and tongue to you again, savoring as much of the liquid gold that hadn’t covered his face. When he pulled away from you he muttered compliments into your thighs, hips, stomach, and breasts as you came down from the orgasm. He was circling his tongue around one of your budded nipples when your vision became clearer, looking up at you with an adoration filled smile.

You already knew he was right – you would never want to be away from him again.

“There she is,” he cooed, releasing your breast from his mouth to lean upward and press a gentle kiss to your lips – uncharacteristically gentle. It occurred to you now that you were unlocking a side to Negan you decided likely no one had seen since the outbreak. 

You tasted yourself on his tongue as he deepened the kiss, now encouraging you to move back on the bed and lay flat. He leaned over you, supporting his weight with one arm so he could continue to stroke your side gently. When he released your lips again, he bit into the bottom one a little harder, a little more desperate and unhinged, much closer to the Negan you knew, before he pressed a kiss to your forehead. 

Duality – nothing about Negan made sense and yet everything about him was exactly as it should be.

“Now you can beg,” he whispered against your forehead lightly. You felt his lips curve into a smile. “Just a little. Lemme hear how nice you can be, pretty girl.”

“Negan, jesus christ, not now,” you whimpered, raising your hips to press up into his. It pulled a groan from you but he only grasped your hip tight to steady you. “Please, please not now. I can’t…I can’t wait. Please fuck me.”

And it was a blur of pleases and whimpers then until he was satisfied, your words devolving into moderately incoherent babble as you kissed his neck, his chest, dragged your hands over his torso…you were begging him in every way you could. Finally, he conceded, tilting your head up to kiss your lips again gently.

“C’mere, sweetheart, I got ya,” he cooed, lifting your hips up to slide a pillow under them. He ran one hand slowly down your leg, grasping your ankle to lift the singular leg up over his shoulder. He leaned down to kiss you again, fisting his length before he ran the velvet head through your slick folds. 

He groaned as he sank into you, breathing out deep as your warm channel welcomed him home. Your eyes rolled back, quiet moans falling from your lips. 

“Holy hell,” he breathed against your lips as he pressed several light kisses to them, resting his forehead against yours briefly as he bottomed out. He stilled for a moment to allow you to adjust to the fullness of him, one of his hands grasping your hip tightly, the other fondling one of your breasts. He couldn’t get enough of you. “Fuck, you feel good.”

He kissed you reverently then, deep and passionate and fulfilling as he found himself enchanted by being inside you finally. 

“F-feel so full…” you muttered against his lips, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes already. He pulled back with a final kiss to bump his nose against yours, a light hum rumbling in his chest as he dragged his cock from you slowly before working each inch in again.

“I know, baby, but you’re taking me so well,” he breathed out lightly, ducking his head to kiss down your neck lightly. He began to suck marks into the skin – the more exposed they’d be later, the better. “Look so fuckin’ pretty, too.”

“Negan,” you whined, raising your hips off the pillow slightly, wiggling slightly. He removed his hand from your breast to grab both of your hips, his tongue clicking against the back of his teeth before he bit down onto your shoulder. 

“Fuck, baby. You’re so tight,” he groaned as he repeated the slow removal and thrust back into you again, savoring how your walls gripped him with each entry. “I’m gonna wreck you.”

“Please,” was the unexpected reply that filled his ears, and from there, he was insatiable.

He thrust into you hard, heavy, each time slowing enough to ensure the tip of his cock rubbed against the sensitive patch a couple of inches inside of you before he thrusted the rest of the way relentlessly. He didn’t let up – his hips didn’t falter as your walls fluttered around him, his pace consistent and desperate.

When he connected a thumb to your clit and began rubbing circles you felt the tears spill down your cheeks. He keened and raised his head to kiss one of them away, rubbing figure eights on the sensitive bundle of nerves. 

“Negan, t-too much…” you whimpered, legs shaking again. He leaned up and away from your face to kneel, keeping one of your legs over his shoulder. The new angle was deeper, the head of his cock occasionally knocking against your cervix. Each cry it pulled from your chest made his cock throb more.

“I won’t finish ‘til you gush on my cock like you did on my face,” he breathed out, eyes burning into yours with a frenzied look in his eyes. As you whimpered he flicked your clit, turning the quiet sound into a loud scream. It was the brightest smile of the night from him – dimples on full display as an low groan sounded in his chest. “That’s right, baby, let the whole sanctuary know. Scream my fuckin’ name.”

He removed his hand from you to spit on your clit, continuing to grin as you gasped at the cold liquid running down you. He smeared the liquid around before he started rubbing your clit again harder, his thrusts now becoming sloppy and desperate. He was chasing his own release and coaxing you closer to yours – he wouldn’t finish until you had.

You gushed around his cock again while you screamed his name – certain at least one person in the sanctuary would be woken to the sounds of your pleasure in the early morning. The white-hot heat spread over you, blinding your vision, blurring the ceiling and him above you as you shook beneath him. 

Even with your walls clenching around him, he held off his own release. Just as you began to come back to him he slung your other leg over his shoulder to join the other, pressing you in half as he leaned over you. 

“My turn,” he growled, his words shaking and breathless. “’m gonna fill your little cunt up.”

You were weak, barely coherent – it didn’t stop your body from responding to him, to his assertion. It didn’t stop your walls from fluttering around him. Your nails dug into his back, breaking the skin – you were both certain there would be small trails of blood. He would wear the claw marks with pride.

“That’s right, you want me to fill you up,” he cooed, reaching to press a kiss to your lips again. “Let fuckin’ everybody know who you belong to.”

“D-do it,” you whimpered, moving your head to press a kiss to his jaw. His thrusts became impossibly harder, and only faltered when you pressed a kiss below his ear, whispering in a breathless, husky tone. “Fill me up, daddy.”

A growl ripped through his chest, his lips crashing to yours in a bruising kiss. It only took a few harder, bruising, crippling thrusts before you felt his cock twitch in you. He released you from the kiss to lean his forehead against yours, eyes squeezing shut as he emptied thick ropes of his seed into you. 

When he had emptied his full load into you he removed his cock, leaning back to admire the sight of his cum leaking from you. 

“There’s still somethin’ beautiful in this world,” he muttered with his shit-eating grin plastered to his face, his hair messy and stuck to his forehead with a thin sheen of sweat. You giggled, returning his smile as you shook your head at his usual bullshit returning.

“Shut up, Negan,” you chastised, rolling your eyes. He only chuckled, leaning down to kiss you again before he rolled you to your side carefully, taking his position behind you. As his arms wrapped around your waist he slipped his still partially-hard cock back into your velvet walls, kissing between your shoulder blades with a smile on his lips as you gasped.

“That’s better, don’t have to worry about a mess,” he mumbled as he tucked his head into your neck, pressing light kisses beneath your ear repeatedly. He was warm, safe – the two of you felt whole together like this. 

Inseparable was correct. 

“Door ain’t locked…” you pointed out as you began to drift off to the first truly good night’s sleep since the world had gone to hell. His voice filled with sleep and low, he only chuckled before whispering his reply into your skin, his lips brushing with each word.

“I do not care.”

masterlist.

[hunterssm00n]

NSFW ! Thomas Hewitt hc’s

A little bit dangerous / but baby, that’s how I want it

*cw include mention of cnc and mention of slight gore* MDNI - 18+

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

• big boy, big hands, big fat ddddd - i don’t make the rules *shrugs*

• his fingers are like sausages on his hands, and are bigger and thicker than pretty much everyone else’s he comes across. i’ve always noticed how big and meaty his hands are, and the thought that they could crush someone’s skull just as easily as they could hold a kitten is just… unnnf

• his hands are quite large, warm, and super calloused from his day to day life. i hc that since his family is elderly he ends up doing a lot for them, and that includes housework, maybe some repairs, and definitely anything to do with getting food on the table. rough, weathered hands that can be gentle is one of the sexiest things ever.

• despite his sheer size and strength, tommy is an incredibly gentle lover. he’s a very sweet and considerate partner.

• after some practice and allowing his confidence to grow, those big hands know exactly what they’re doing- and a man with big hands that knows how to use them? *swoons*

• he’s a switch; can be a top or a bottom. loves being ridden but also loves being in control

• did not know pretty much anything about sex growing up, uncle charlie tried to explain it to him but you can imagine how well that went. this may have resulted in thomas having some unnatural fears when it comes to intimacy, but thankfully he's a quick study and is open to positive influence when there are good feelings associated.

• this can mean that this sweet boy can be talked into doing pretty much anything. as long as he understands there's nothing to be afraid of, and that if he doesn't like something he can always stop/indicate that he wants to stop.

• for example, he would only be open to cnc if he understands that it's a game - i really don't think he would be able to violate someone that way (which might sound weird considering he chainsaws people in half and then cuts off their faces and wears them...) as long as he knows it's for fun i feel like he would be open to anything

• sooo considerate afterwards - a total sweetheart who absolutely jumps at the chance to do aftercare

• he is always hot - figuratively and literally. i hc that his big boy body is like a furnace. this means the ultimate snuggle time in the winter, and just in general.

• he’s long and thick down there, lawd have mercy. like, almost doesn’t fit all the way he’s so big. and his balls are large and heavy, full of hot seed, and they swing back and forth when he thrusts, creating the perfect titillating sensation.

• when he cums… dear god. it’s like the hoover dam breaking open. he definitely needs lots of towels to clean up afterwards - or just straight up jumping in the bath/shower to rinse off

• his favorite positions are missionary and being ridden - the best of both worlds

• and he absolutely loves sex in the shower/bath. he is super touch starved, especially in the romantic sense, so that level of intimacy completely blows his mind.

• he adores being praised; being told what a good boy he is, how good what he's doing feels. he likes to know when he's doing something right - it is a huge confidence boost for this shy guy

• he actually isn't as quiet during sex as one may think. not that he says anything, but the noises he makes instead are equally as good. low groans, pitiful moans when something feels too good, and even growling when he cums. thomas is just so animalistic in nature, and much like when he's chasing after someone with his chainsaw, sometimes the beast just needs to be unleashed.

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

hunterssm00n © All rights reserved by me. I do not allow this work to be used or adapted in any way without my permission.

AN: I do not own the Texas Chainsaw Massacre franchise or any of its characters. I also do not own the song ‘Into You’ by Ariana Grande.

[gayou01]

Astrology observations I made pt 24

DISCLAIMER- Placements will not play out the same way for everyone and having challenging placements + aspects does not mean that you are a bad person or that you will have a bad life. Take what resonates and leave what doesn’t

-if you have an ascendant ruled by Mercury (Gemini and Virgo), it probably didn’t take very long for your mom to birth you. You were out within a few hours

-Sagittarius ascendants tend to be of tall stature, or have a slender figure and long torso which gives the illusion of height. Or they’re short and real thicc

-Scorpio moons tend to lie by omission. They’ll tell you half the truth while keeping the rest of it to themselves, mostly because they personally feel like it’s none of your business anyway and knowing something you don’t gives them a sense of control

-at best Aquarius moons have a relationship with their mom where they see her more as an equal than a disciplinarian. Because of that relationship dynamic, they tend to be more comfortable having certain conversations with their mom that would usually be awkward or difficult to have with one’s parents

-at worst, Aquarius moons see their mother as someone very detached that can’t be bothered to get to know their child on an intimate level. They feel like they are given so much freedom that they might as well have not had a parent

-having the saturn square Jupiter aspect can indicate having to work hard for everything you have and actually chasing your luck. Or at least feeling like you have to jump through hoops to get the good things you want/deserve while everyone else gets it all handed to them

-Lilith in the 7th house in a mutable sign (specifically gemini) can indicate craving companionship when you’re single but then wanting to run away once you finally have someone by your side.

-challenging aspects between Lilith and Venus can indicate extreme jealousy and wanting complete control of your partner to the point where it can get dangerous (especially if mars and pluto are also involved)

-Juno in the 11th house can indicate marrying someone that was once a friend of yours, or somebody who grew up in the same community as you (like someone from your school, church etc)

-Chiron in the 11th house house can sometimes indicate having trouble seeing/believing that you actually bring joy to peoples lives and that many of the people around you actually want you around. The trauma behind that is the native being made to feel like a nuisance all the time just for existing

[vidavalor]

Do you have anything on the way Aziraphale says pennies in the scene when he gets the record from Maggie? I love your posts and saw that you wrote about that scene. It might be a dumb thing to focus on but thought you might have some ideas. Thank you!

Hi there! 💕 Hope you're having a fun day today. Thanks for the kind words & the ask. I'm glad you like the posts. It's not a dumb thing to focus on-- there's no such thing. I'm tickled to have this question, in particular, as I almost included something about Aziraphale's use of pennies in the Shostakovich meta you mentioned but left it out of that since the coin-related wordplay is really its own topic.

On "eight pounds and seventy-five pennies" and coining a phrase or two (groan 😂) in Ineffable Husbands Speak...

In the Bible, a penny is a denarius, which is...

...an ancient Roman, silver coin.

The denarius was worth ten asses. That coin, in singular form, was called an as and, while it had nothing to do with human posteriors or donkeys, that is definitely not going to stop Crowley and Aziraphale from working that homophone. It's worth mentioning probably that the bookshop is referred to in Demon's Guide to Angelic Beings Who Walk the Earth as Angelic Embassy X and the Roman numeral for ten is X. Things relating to the letter X or the number ten = the bookshop.

So, a penny is a denarius and a denarius was worth ten asses, meaning: Aziraphale is sure this record is getting him some love in the bookshop later with his redheaded, ancient Roman, silver coin here because he tells Maggie that the symphony is actually worth eight pounds and seventy-five of those denarius pennies. Shostakovich is going to get them three-quarters of the way there. 😉

The amusing part of the bookshop's Heaven name being Angelic Embassy X is that it seems very evident that, even though that means ten in a human way, there were not nine, other embassies before it. X is a Roman numeral that can be used as a kind of filler as well-- an indicator of something that is first of its kind or for an unknown. The latter of those would be funny with the way that they use know/knowing with the Biblical connotation intact as an euphemism for being lovers. Angelic Embassy X keeps them unknown to Heaven but the word contains know and known and would also then mean that in their speak as well.

It is also because of what else it stands for that Crowley and Aziraphale likely picked it:

X, an independent variable in mathematics...

X, sometimes the indicator of a collaboration in artistic endeavors; X, as in adult content; and X, as in part of XO, the hugs and kisses sign off in a letter, email or text. The bookshop itself is made up of Os-- built in the round with a compass theme. The compass theme and its directions, plus Crowley's use of them in this same part of the Demon's Guide entry add to the idea that Angelic Embassy X/the bookshop is all X's and O's-- the place for hugs and kisses and all the stuff of life to be had in peace, made funnier by the fact that they're using a very common form of symbolic language to describe it. Further suggestion of this is Bildad's "XO" joke:

Denarius also sounds a bit like dinner, us, which fits the whole sneaking around, hiding Crowley's presence in the shop after dark thing, which Crowley also referred to as nightlife in 2.06 (when describing Alpha Centauri-- the plan, not the planets-- as being a "couple of decent planets. No nightlife to speak of.") The words containing the word us and the etymology of dinner and to dine are whole other topics that overlap with lunch, breakfast, fast and dangerous in their speak. It'd be going in a different direction from your ask, though, so we'll save that for another post.

Aziraphale talking about pennies is also not the first time that money-- including the denarius-- has been used in wordplay in the series. Given that Aziraphale is a business person and that Crowley is the local black market, what a business usually spends, takes in, makes as change, and seeks, in general, to make, is money. A lot of words related to types of modern money have linguistic origins in the same place that Crowley and Aziraphale's sexual relationship had some origins-- ancient Rome-- which is likely why they use a lot of words with ties to it.

It is, one might say, a bit romantic to do so.

Crowley uses a reference to the denarius back in S1 in his response to Aziraphale in the Seeds of Destruction scene, where we see a word-within-word reference to the denarius in a money-themed sentence, using the modern monetary term that evolved from denarius:

the dinar.

Ordinary: Contains or and dinar. Or is homophonic for oar-- what one uses to row a boat, in keeping with their whole fish and the sea sexual metaphor. To respond to Aziraphale wording him with an entire paragraph of very hot Ineffable Husbands Speak with a reference to the mess they're talking about on the surface being just "an ordinary cock-up" is actually to pretend to sound unaffected while saying in their speak that Aziraphale's got this ancient Roman silver coin ready to get into Aziraphale's pockets at the first available opportunity.

Other uses of ordinary and extraordinary, the latter of which includes the X of the above Angelic Embassy X/ten meaning:

Crowley doesn't "feel anything out of the ordinary" when Aziraphale starts going on about flashes of love...

...and when he wants to go home and shag each other senseless in 1.01, he says he's in the mood for...

...quite extraordinary amounts of alcohol.

Money, which Crowley specifically used in the Seeds of Destruction scene as we noted above, is also a word rooted in ancient Rome that ties to other bits of wordplay we've looked at before related to the mint tea, Maggie and Hell, and also a very Good Omens-y bit of Greco-Roman mythology.

Money comes from the Old French moneie, off of the Latin moneta, which meant both money and a mint where coins were first produced in ancient Rome. Moneta is either or both the title or surname (it's unclear & differs between stories) of the Roman goddess Juno. The grounds for a temple made to worship Juno was where coins were minted in Rome and, some speculate, where they might have also been stored.

One of the stories of Juno-- whose Greek equivalent is the goddess Hera-- has some interesting ties to how Good Omens describes Crowley's fall and might be a mythological story to which they are alluding. There are a lot of interpretations of these myths and some really terrible misogyny in the way that Juno and Hera are are treated by a lot of scholars but if we just take the skeleton of the myth itself and look at that, you'll be able to see something of a comparison here to Crowley's story.

The story goes that Juno and Zeus, the god of lightning, had a son, Vulcan. [The etymology of Vulcan is muddled & not worth rehashing here.] Juno rejected Vulcan as her child and tossed him off of Mount Olympus, causing him to have this very long, horrific fall that crashed him down below the surface of the Earth. This is part of the origin story across different Greco-Roman myths for volcanoes, as Vulcan would wind up being the god of fire and an artist who eventually would harness the power of fire to invent metalworking and blacksmithing as a result. Vulcan's fall-- both the psychological trauma of it and the physical pain of it-- left him broken and paralyzed him from the waist down.

He was rescued by a sea nymph who brought him to her underwater grotto and healed him. They lived there together for years, with Vulcan making art and jewelry out of combining together his knowledge of fire with pearls (the product of mollusks, like oysters) and other jewels of the sea.

He would also share the products of that knowledge with others and taught them to wield the elements of fire and water the way he does.

He also would make the Crowley-esque thrones and chariots.

Later on, Juno came to learn that he was her son and sought to have a connection with him, only now that he was renowned. Vulcan laid a trap for her by making her an ornate throne which, when she sat in it, held her trapped for a few days until her husband, Zeus, could be bothered to intervene. Zeus negotiated with Vulcan and told him that if he freed his mother, he could marry the goddess of love, Venus (Aphrodite, in Greek mythology.) Vulcan said fine and gave up his mom and mom-related trauma so he could go marry Venus, even if the myth gets a tragic ending of sorts, since it is said that raging fires would erupt whenever she was unfaithful to him.

So, if instead of a baby rescued by a sea nymph who acted like a mom to the child, you spun this around a bit and looked at it as Juno is God, Crowley is Vulcan and has been implied to have been a throne/dominion when he was an angel, the drop from Mount Olympus into the volcano is Crowley's fall, the paralysis is metaphorical for the anorgasmia story that is the turnip & the inkwell metaphor and which we looked at in Fish, and Aziraphale is both the sea nymph and Aphrodite/Venus, with the bookshop as their underwater grotto, then there are some allusions to the myth in Crowley and Aziraphale's story.

Aphrodite, for what it's worth, is also the goddess who is almost always drawn naked on an oyster shell and whose name is the root of the word aphrodisiac, speaking, as we have been, of ancient Rome.

Zeus is also the father of Persephone and the other Roman myth to which Crowley's story appears to be alluding is Hades and Persephone. You can follow the link in the mint paragraph above if you have not read that post and would like to read more about that.

Adding to this is what little we know of the literal part of Crowley's fall, which he described as "a million-light-year freestyle dive into a pool of boiling sulphur." Sulphur is mined from volcanoes and referred to by miners as "The Devil's Gold."

On a more humorous note, the denarius was eventually replaced in ancient Rome by another coin called-- I kid you not-- the antoninianus.

So, Aziraphale is standing there in Maggie's record shop, with his symphony with the Saint Anthony's Sermon to the Fishes joke in it, silently cracking himself up over the etymology of money-themed words tying to Rome and all that naked Anthony that Aziraphale knows this record is about to get him later on.

The history of the penny in the U.K. versus in America also makes the fact that Aziraphale said pennies in his sentence interesting.

While the penny has been a form of money in both places for a long time, how it is measured and what it is worth changed in the U.K. in 1971 when the British decimalized the pound. This meant that the penny became worth 1/100th of a pound, in the same way that a penny in the United States is 1/100th of a dollar. Changing how the British pound was measured was an act of government in the U.K. that aimed to make it more like America, which probably bemuses Crowley and Aziraphale and led to Aziraphale's love of the word pennies.

Even though America itself is far from perfect (like every country they use symbolically), America equates to freedom and liberation so Aziraphale probably was amused to use a word that relates to a moment of the British admitting for once that the Americans had done something better than they had. This is also because there's a real 'Heaven is the British Empire' parallel happening for them and in the show as a whole. As a result, Crowley and Aziraphale have a tendency to align themselves with countries that have complicated histories with England (The U.S., Scotland, the love for France, etc..).

(I would argue that while we probably have a good system of measuring money over here in the States, the rest of the world has measuring things like temperature far more under control and we desperately need to start following all of you on that.😂)

Crowley and Aziraphale, though, have a thing about using words related to forms of measurement that are used in America rather than other parts of the world. Despite being English-presenting beings who have lived in England for forever, they both use the word mile, for instance, instead of kilometers. The dashboard on The Bentley is even set up to show miles instead.

(I do always think it funny that Aziraphale says "ninety miles per hour" in this scene. It is the correct way to phrase how it's measured in the United States-- miles per hour, or mph-- but it is more common when speaking aloud to say: "ninety miles an hour." Aziraphale and his fussy formality-- intentionally or unintentionally-- is saying the American thing in the most English way possible and it's very cute.)

Part of the use of mile is probably also linked to its etymology being tied back to ancient Rome, which is also reflective of the influence of the Roman government and its system of laws, etc., on the founders of America. There's a bit of a direct thru-line historically between the two that also aligns with Crowley and Aziraphale's own history together and shows up in their speak.

There's also the fact that mile, as we looked at in another meta, comes from mil, which means one thousand. Aziraphale said "seventy-five pennies" to Maggie, which is 750 denarius-- 3/4ths of the way to a mil, in the etymological sense. Part of the joke there is that the homophone of mil is mill, a word that is at the cross-section of several different categories of words within their speak.

A mill is the machinery used to grind up flour for bread and other dough (see: the proofing banter in 1941 below) and it is also a factory where textiles are made (a bit of the seamstress-related language at work in there). Amusingly?

It also has a direct connection back to coins.

In terms of minting coins, to mill a coin is to mark the edges of coins with protective ribbing as a way of helping them to keep their luster and not disintegrate over time. To rib is to affectionately tease, all made funnier by the fact that these two have a certain history with some ox ribs and a bit of a focus on the edges of, ah, coins.

Adding to this a bit is the etymology of the word coin itself.

It comes from the Latin cuneus, which meant a wedge (which contains edge.) In ancient times, a wedge-shaped tool was used to form designs onto metal when making coins. This actually relates back over to the music theme of this post, as we'll look at below. The Latin cuneus has etymological links to cunnus, the basic Latin word for the vulva, and-- unsurprisingly to women everywhere lol-- an archaic, derogatory slang word for a woman that is basically equivalent to (and an ancestor of) negative use of the word cunt today. The word cunninlingus is from cunnus plus the Latin lingere, which meant to lick. The word coin is from the same roots as getting your garden box watered, and contains the Old French coi and its modern English-used spelling of coy, meaning demure or modest now but originally from the Latin quietus, meaning free, calm, peaceful, and restful.

Plus, coy's homophone... the koi fish. 🐟 They live in water gardens and koi ponds-- see: pounds and its connection to pond-- and are a form of carp.

A wedge is also just another name for the musical term of a dash, which is a direction in musical notation that signals that the note is to be played in a staccato manner. Staccato manner is notes played with emphasis but separately and with pauses in between. It's edging described in the language of music.

In modern musical notation, a dash actually refers to a note to be played staccatissimo, which is just very, very staccato. A dash is also the longer signal in Morse Code, making it also another reference to coded language. Aziraphale's magic words are actually all of the parameters of their hidden language spoken *in* their hidden language-- likely why he's repeating them to Crowley at every turn in 1941. A mark used to signify the notes to be played as staccato or staccatissimo is called a pike, which is also a type of fish, and is one part of the wordplay in the word Armageddon.

Within Armageddon lies the word ged, which is a term in heraldry for a type of fish-- the pike-- used to make visual, language-related puns on coats of arms. Various heraldry-inspired crosses and coats of arms are in the background in different scenes in the series.

Anyway, we just went in a big circle, so back to the "eight pounds and seventy-five" bit of the pennies line...

The number eight is a homophone for the word ate, which Crowley is referencing in a scene that parallels this one but took place in 1941:

Crowley and Aziraphale are wording each other a bit in this scene and here's an use of another monetary word with a Rome-to-America history-- cent-- in percent. Crowley uses eighty here which is, phonetically: ate, tea and is referring to their use of food and drink as sexually euphemistic in a scene in which the two of them are using improving (i'm proving/proofing), proving, and proof in ways that refer to both the measurement of ethanol content in alcohol and the activation of yeast or a fermentation process causing a rise in bread and other dough as an arousal metaphor. Probably made more evident when you look at Crowley's "lovely bottles of joy" comment above with the knowledge that the original definition of joy was actually sexual ecstasy.

So, Maggie innocently says that Aziraphale's pile of records- the only one to which he's given any attention being the Crowley-linked Shostakovich symphony-- would cost him "eight pounds", a phrase that is sort of funny in Crowley and Aziraphale speak, since eight is both a number and a reference to food and pound has a history ripe for the wordplay picking.

Pound comes from the same etymological roots as pond, giving it a tie to their bodies of water/fish metaphor. It's slang for fucking and also originally meant pint, a form of measurement that is also the name for an ale or a beer, which is alcohol, more on which can be found in the link.

At one point, the pound, in monetary form, was specifically a way to measure only a pile of silver... just, ya know, while we're chuckling at Crowley-related things. He even refers to himself using silver to Shax in S2:

Additionally, the word pound as a form of measurement came from the Latin word libra, which also meant a balance of scales and is from where the zodiac constellation comes.

Even scales in Ineffable Husbands Speak is also funny-- as scales are a musical term referring to a range of notes and also what fish have. In the magic shop scene in 1941, Aziraphale flirts with Crowley by way of a fish joke, saying he's looking for "something with scale, something climactic." (Scale also contains a form of alcohol in ale.)

Even, referring to a sense of balance in their fish world, and Aziraphale uses the word even with Maggie in this same mash of even scales/libra-related words, telling her that, where value is concerned, there is a balanced exchanged in her rent for the records and that they can "call it even."

Even is also part of the wordplay around seventy, in "seventy-five pennies", as it's one of the words contained in that word, along with seven.

Seven has been regarded as a lucky, magical and/or perfect number and there are a variety of reasons that could be all applicable here and in the overall symbolism of the show. Others have looked at it and it could be its own post. I think one of the funniest ones from an Ineffable Husbands Speak perspective, though, is that seven is the root of septentrion, which refers to the seven stars of the rather innuendo-laden-in-name The Big Dipper in The Great Bear, which has real language of The Dark Priesthood of Ancient Mu-type vibes. The word septentrion comes from a mashup of the Latin septem (meaning seven), triones (meaning-- I'm not kidding-- plow ox) and the root of terere, which means to rub.

One wonders if, in the Good Omens universe, Crowley and Aziraphale might have possibly had a hand in influencing the naming of constellations. 😂

In the opening of Good Omens, God says that The Earth is a Libra-- a phrase that could be a whole exploration on its own but which I thought I'd also mention in here since we're talking about the pound and scales.

Five in the "seventy-five pennies"-- especially with the way that Aziraphale emphasized the "iiiiive" part of it a little-- seems likely to me to just be the fact that it includes I've, which then makes "I've pennies" out of the end of what he's saying. Pennies as denarius-- bookshop sex with Crowley, Aziraphale's favorite ancient Roman silver coin, is vavoom sordid/sorted, thanks to this record-- but also that within pennies lies the very old penis euphemism of the pen.

Aziraphale and Crowley are using pen and ink euphemistically in a bunch of scenes-- Crowley's response to Aziraphale's French (the gardener doesn't have a... pen); the "tartan's stylish" on the park bench in S1 (stylish from stylus/pen); the turnip & the inkwell, etc..

Additionally, a pen is an animal enclosure so the bookshop, full of literal pens and books penned by others, is a pen in the sense that it's a dwelling for these ancient, word-nerdy dorks to get their animal on.

"Eight pounds and seventy-fiiiiiive pennies" is Aziraphale joking over how metaphorically (for now lol) hard getting the record has him and his excitement for the eight pounds' worth of fun he and Crowley are going to have that evening over it. Or would have if not for, ya know, the rest of S2.

"I know what I'll be doing for the next twenty-one minutes."

Next, actually comes from nigh and words relating to it that mean near or soon, as opposed to referring to the very next immediate moments. It also has links to Anglican nesta, and sounds like nest (which did emerge otherwise independent of next.) Theoretically, it can refer to the then-near future in their nest that is the bookshop.

Twenty, from the Old English twegan, meaning two, and tig, meaning a group of ten. Twenty-one = the two of them (he and Crowley) are a group of ten (the Angelic Embassy X group), and this record is going to be quite the muse for getting them to be literally one for a bit later on.

While making these coin jokes, Aziraphale is buying a symphony-- a bit of musical score. A score to help the angel score with his ancient Roman silver coin over here 😂... not that he needs any help in that department but a little music never hurt.

Music, from the Greek mousike techne, meaning the art of the Muses. In ancient Greece, the Muses were the goddesses of the arts and science, and considered by people to be the sources of knowledge that inspired all works of art, literature, poetry, music, and scientific experiments.

The wordplay in Crowley's line in 1.01 is that, in that moment, Mozart = Most art. The line is really "Because most art's one of ours," a reference to the two of them as akin to the Muses and, also, to being two beings whose own muses are the humans and their scientific and artistic endeavors.

From muse also comes the word amuse... and what could be better than something that both makes you crack up laughing but also turns you on? Crowley in 1827 had certainly found the perfect bit of amusement for Aziraphale, as Aziraphale recounted in their speak in his journal:

Dear Diary,

Last month, Crowley and I both happened to be in Edinburgh and he insisted that I visit a local graveyard at midnight. He said he had come upon something [ahem lol] that might amuse me...

Here is where we can also note that during The Meeting Ball That Was Totally Not About Maggie and Nina, Aziraphale had Gabriel circling with trays of free, tiny versions of the sometimes more dinner-sized vol au vents, which would be classified as an amuse-bouche-- literally: "to please the mouth"-- the French term for an appetizer selected by and often crafted by the chef out of thought that it would be an inspiring appetizer that would compliment the meal still to come.

So, Aziraphale's original intention was to woo Crowley with the music of that particular performance of Shostakovich's Symphony No. 5 and obtained the score on record to do so. The term score comes from its original definition of keeping tally. Score, from the late Old English scoru, meaning twenty-- thought to be because tallies of things with large numbers were thought to be done in batches of twenty...

...or, in Ineffable Husbands Speak, two people living one, shared existence, who make up the group of ten/X.

Or, they would have been if not for, you know, an unexpected, if very amusing-- in all definitions of the word-- arrival...

There's Shostakovich in the South Downs in your future, Crowley, just hang in there...

[sleepingdeath-light]

relationship hcs ; sunny day jack

requested by ; nobody / self indulgent

fandom(s) ; something’s wrong with sunny day jack

fandom masterlist(s) ; here

character(s) ; sunny day jack

outline ; “dating hcs for jack”

warning(s) ; canon-typical violent and obsessive behaviour, but mostly fluff!

this almost goes without saying, but jack is the type of partner who will do anything and everything he possibly can to ensure your continued happiness and safety in both your relationship with him and in your life in general — usually this just means him doing little things here and there to make your day pass by smoother (preparing a healthy and filling breakfast for you so you don’t have to wake up as early, keeping track of all your appointments so you don’t need to stress about forgetting, watching the weather to ensure you’re able to be prepared and dress for whatever happens to be in store, doing the chores when you’re too sick or tired to get up, etc.) but on occasion this can mean him taking some more… shall we say ‘extreme’ measures to make sure that you’re able to go about your life as comfortably as possible (e.g. quietly disposing of someone who is getting a bit too bold for his tastes when you’re not looking, or personally hunting down and dealing with someone who made you upset or uncomfortable at work)

as indicated in the previous point jack is someone who is big on acts of service, but that’s not the only way that he shows his love for you — far from it, in fact, as he makes good use of pretty much all of the love languages he has at his disposal because he wants to make you happy and leave you absolutely and unshakeably certain about his love for you

physical affection — after spending so long being forgotten and left behind in that damned tape jack absolutely thrives off of your touch and attention and, naturally, isn’t opposed to showering you with just as much affection as you’re comfortable with in return: he loves to cuddle with you, he adores the feeling of having you in his arms, he can’t help but smile when you curl up into his side or lay on his chest, your kisses give him life and he takes any and every chance he can get to have your lips on his (or to get the chance to kiss you in return, especially if it happens to be on your lips, your neck, or on the tip of your nose). in short, he really resonates with physical affection as a love language.

quality time — aside from a few very specific circumstances, jack is always by your side no matter where you are or who else you’re with: he’s quietly hanging out with you when you’re at work, he’s dancing with you in the kitchen while he’s making your favourite food, he’s walking by your side when you’re out and about in the town, he’s lounging beside you in the living room as you watch some show or film or another, he’s holding you in his arms as you fall asleep in bed, and so on. even in your so-called private moments, like when you’re taking an important phone call or when you’re in the bathroom, jack’s never too far away and is always quick to pop up once you’re done with whatever it was you were doing in your time apart.

words of affirmation — unless he’s actually completely asleep, your darling jack never goes too long without uttering some encouraging phrase or another to you. sometimes they’re short motivational speeches to hype you up for the day to come, other times they’re bits of very genuine and personal praise that would make anyone swoon, and occasionally they’re compliments about your appearance uttered so earnestly and sweetly that you can’t help but believe him — but no matter what form they come in, you know with a great deal of certainty that he means each and every word with every fibre of his being.

jack is absolutely petrified of being left alone (again) and he’s also extremely, dangerously, possessive over you and your time. both of these traits when combined make him extremely effective at isolating you from other people and making you completely reliant on him, which he accomplished through a mixture of verbal and emotional manipulation (gaslighting, white lies, leading questions, lovebombing, guilt tripping about his love for you, pretending he’s slowly disappearing from reality because of your actions, playing on your trust for him to make you push others out), physical actions (showering you with affection and good deeds when you do what he wants and withholding them when you disobey, using intimacy as a tool to get you to say what he wants you to, etc.), and violence towards others (stalking, threatening, maiming, attacking, kidnapping, and killing if it comes down to it) — and because of how effective his persona is, you never get the chance to see his mask truly slip and remain under the impression that your darling (potentially undead) boyfriend is the gentleman he portrays himself to be and that your relationship is a dream come true

(perhaps ignorance truly is bliss)

he has a scary good memory when it comes to everything about you, even the little things about yourself that you only mentioned offhandedly once or twice in all of the years you’ve known him — and this applies to everything from your smaller ‘favourites’ (e.g. favourite flowers, favourite sweets, favourite foods, favourite drinks, favourite type of weather, etc.) to the bigger and more important things about you (e.g. your allergies, information about your physical and mental health, the names of your immediate family, what hobbies and interests you have, your ring size, etc.), and all of that knowledge has allowed him to become the most perfect boyfriend he can possibly be for you

as far as pet names go he either calls you ‘sunshine’, your first name or an affectionate variation thereof, but he’s happy with whatever it is you want to call him as long as it’s not, you know, something that’s actually mean — though if you happen to call him something that implies you want to be tied to him for the rest of your life (e.g. ‘and how’s my future husband doing this morning?’), even if it’s said as a joke, then he’s going to get this absolutely starstruck look on his face, like you just told him the best news of his life, and you’ll be spending the rest of the day being spoiled absolutely rotten and showered with affection by a very clingy (somehow even more so than usual) and very chipper jack

[imahinatjon]

OK HI I'm BACk what ABOUT JOUNO AND TECCHOU WITH AN S/O WHO HAS ADHD LIKE ZONING OUT AND RANDOM STUFF like spontaneous noises, not sitting still, ZONING OUT, low attention span, etc. I MEANT TO WRITE THIS IN ALL CAps BUT I DIDNT. HAVE AGOOD DAY.

Before we start this, I do not have ADHD or at least we don't think I have.

Therefore I cannot say I fully understand ADHD, but I will try. (Like, I understand, but not to the fullest extent)

Also did these in the form of headcannons if that's good? Bulletpointed.

Jouno

• So, Jouno... appreciates you.

• He doesn't always understand, but even he gets that enthusiasm is needed in life sometimes - even if it's not technically enthusiasm.

• He won't notice if you start zoning out. He can't see you.

• But he does realise when you stopped making noise.

• Your voice is distracting and almost constant. You say almost anything and everything with little to no filter.

• But he likes your voice a hell of a lot more than the voices of... certain people.

• Jouno can't keep up.

• That's just it. He can't keep up.

• He can learn to understand what your saying, where you're coming from, your personality and behaviours, but that doesn't mean he has the energy to keep up.

• Still, your entertaining to him, he likes you, a lot. So he keeps his ear out for you.

• You rarely stay in one place for too long, buttt your also clumsy. Make a lot of simple, not super dangerous but occasionally concerning mistakes.

• Jouno, with ALL his love for you, thinks you need to be wrapped up in bubble wrap.

• It's for your own safety!

• ...he may or may not try it.

• But, in all seriousness. He does love every bit of you he has come to know. And coming to the rescue every now and then makes him feel like you really need him. (Not that he has issues with this, just saying that I think he'd like it if his s/o relied on him)

• He just wishes there weren't so many unfinished passion projects lying around.

• But he'll get over it because he loves you ♡

Tecchou

• Tecchou probably understands somewhat.

• You two have an almost perfect relationship.

• When he's not working Tecchou is practically attached to your hip.

• Which means you fall victim to his "cooking" often.

• And your always willing to try whatever he comes up with. Mostly that's because you haven't been paying much attention to what he's been putting in, your only indication that something is up is the fact that everything is the same colour.

• But you trust he won't poison you, so you take a spoonfull.

• You tell him it was nice, when really it wasn't, and remind yourself not to accept food from him again.

• You soon forget about it when the next meal comes around.

• "Sometimes I forget that your cooking is a biohazard..."

"...what?"

• Sometimes the two of you sit together doing nothing.

• It's nice. You were just sat on the chair, comfortable, away somewhere within your own head.

• He spotted you, and thought that you looked cute being so deep in thought that you had no real awareness of your surroundings.

• So, with the 'protection' excuse tucked away up his sleeve, he sat beside you and waited.

• Only to then find himself lost in thought with you.

• He can't help it! Being in such a calm, relaxing atmosphere with you - the ultimate comfort to him, he can't help but loose himself in the moment with you.

• What brings him back is when you start moving. A slight shake of the leg. Constant tap tap tapping, your knee bouncing up and down.

• You clearly got bored of wherever you were a bit ago, and had decided to stay with him, even though he could see you wanted to go and do something else.

• That's adorable - You trying so hard.

• Makes him want to try harder too.

• Oh! Perhaps you could cook with him!

• It will end in disaster. That's just a given. Doesn't matter if your a good cook or a bad cook there will be conflict.

• Nothing serious, and it causes no real issue, just a lot of mess that some poor soul is going to have to clean up later.

• He's so insistent on his way of "cooking" that he won't listen to you.

• And your so stubborn in 'trying something new' (aka following an actual recepie) that you both end up childishly fighting over the bowl.

• It's not serious, and neither of you are actually shouting, but a few bowls and ingredients fall over, and you do run around a lot.

• At least Jouno knows not to go in there - lest he face whatever mess the two of you plan on proudly presenting to him. He doesn't want it.

• So... your relationship isn't perfect, but it's almost there.

• You try and understand eachother, and you stick together.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Is this okay? 🤔

I did research into ADHD before writing this - and tried to recall what one of my relatives behaves like - as he has adhd.

But like I said, I don't have it.

Also Think I finally figured out how to spell these twos names.

:D

[pascaloverx]

To Begin Again

FOUR

Summary: You're a new teacher at a large and influential school. It's a risky step for you, as you've been running from your ex for almost two years. But when Dumbledore asks you to take on a class at the renowned Hogwarts, you can't refuse. However, your life as a newly arrived teacher won't be easy. Especially when the other teachers don't seem eager to make friends. Or rather, two teachers in particular: Sirius Black and Remus Lupin.

Author's Note: Welcome, dear readers. Please leave your comments if you enjoy fanfiction. This fanfic takes place almost in the real world (with the addition of werewolves) and is not a wizarding fanfic. There will be some differences and changes in things from the Harry Potter story or other fanfics in the HP universe, but I promise to do my best writing this fanfic. There will be a love triangle coming in this fanfic.

THREE FIVE

You had a date with two men, two men who stood you up, didn't even bother to send a smoke signal to cancel everything. The worst part is that you got all dressed up, put on a nice dress and everything. How infuriating. And just as you're about to lie down on the bed and turn on the TV to try to forget the pathetic situation you find yourself in, someone knocks on your door.

"So, the idiot here and I are going to the bar on the other side of the forest to have some beers. As uninteresting as you may seem, it's worth giving you a chance to at least do something fun. What do you think?" Bellatrix asks as she leans abruptly against the corridor wall. Peter is standing beside her, looking uncomfortable at being called an idiot but much more focused on looking at you as if he wants to uncover your secrets.

"I think that's a rather rude way to ask someone if they want to go have a beer with you, but at the moment, my options are either to go with you or put on my pajamas, and I think it's worth giving you guys a chance." You say, grabbing your bag and then locking the door to your room. When you turn around, Peter looks at you as if you were some kind of different creature. A look that seems to mix curiosity with a sort of dread.

"Deep down, I know you want to go out with us because you don't want to be in the middle of what's going on between Remus and Sirius. Believe me, I know how you feel. Hogwarts doesn't offer many options for relationships, so sometimes I tried to have something casual with Remus or even with my boring cousin, but Sirius is simply… nothing is more important to those two than their relationship. So my advice is to stay away from them. Or at least don't have feelings for them. But if you do, be prepared." Bellatrix speaks as if she just wants to gossip about something or influence you even a little bit. You, who are walking beside her while Peter walks ahead of the two, don't know what to think. After all, you're a stranger. You can't demand anything from anyone.

"Danger, danger is all you'll get with Lupin. If you survive, you'll come out marked forever." Peter turns to you and says this. His body language seems to indicate that he's nervous, as if he's warning you of an impending attack. Bellatrix looks at him with a disapproving and almost furious look. You don't understand anything, but something inside you tells you to be more cautious.

"What Peter means is that getting involved with Remus can be dangerous, but not in a real sense. More like a romantic danger. You know how love triangles are, and if you manage to win one of them over, you'll have to deal with the other. But our friend Peter here is a bit too dramatic. He's a literature professor and has lost track of what's fiction and what's reality. Stay at Hogwarts for longer, and maybe you'll end up like that too." Bellatrix speaks as if she's trying to convince you of something, and you admit that she could easily persuade you to believe her, but something in you said that Peter wasn't exaggerating.

"My intention is not to meddle in the relationship between Black and Lupin. In fact, I don't even know how that relationship works. I just happened to meet them by chance and get closer." You speak as you walk through the forest. You look up, unable to see the moon and wondering if tonight you would see the hairy creature again. For a moment, you even think it could be a plan of Bellatrix and Peter to bring you into the middle of the forest and get rid of you, but then you start to think that you're being a bit paranoid. After all, why would they want to get rid of you?

"And finally, we've arrived at the quaintest local bar you'll find around here. I'll warn you upfront that not all patrons are good folks, but the beer is good and it's our only option." Bellatrix informs you as the three of you enter the establishment. The design of the place is cozy and simple, like Little Red Riding Hood's grandmother's house. There's a fireplace right at the entrance, near an old and somewhat tattered-looking sofa. Some people are sitting on the sofa, drinking, while others are standing. Most are just having drinks and chatting. Others are smoking while playing pool in a part of the bar that seems to have a door. You imagine it must be the exit.

"I'll have a beer. Actually, make that two beers." You tell the bartender. He's an incredibly tall man with a long beard and hair. Despite not being sure if he heard your order, he nods. Bellatrix is placing her order while Peter seems to have gone to the restroom. He's so quiet, he could be mistaken for a mouse sneaking around.

"Would you like to dance?" Bellatrix asks as she grabs her drink. The bartender apparently didn't hear you, as he passed you a glass of whiskey and then went to serve another customer. You wonder how she plans to dance without music until you see a jukebox near where the smokers are. Bellatrix promptly goes over there and selects a song. "Kill of the Night" is the song she chooses, and she starts dancing with a certain rhythm towards you. You take your whiskey shot and then take Bellatrix's hand as you try to keep up with her pace. It's a dance that mainly involves the feet and hips. You're not the most coordinated person in the world, but you manage to keep up with her, even though she's holding a bottle of beer while dancing.

"Thank you for inviting me to come here. It was kind of you." You say as you're close to her. Then she pulls you closer and gives you a small kiss on the corner of your mouth, catching you by surprise. You quickly push her away, not quite understanding. Not that she isn't attractive, but you just met her. Well, not that you're a prude.

"If you're interested in spending more time with more fun people, now you know where to find me." Bellatrix winks in your direction and heads towards where Peter went. You're not quite sure what to do, but suddenly you feel short of breath. You then head towards the exit of the bar. Bad idea. The more you walk in the same direction you came from, the more you feel lost. Going back would be an option, but you're a bit embarrassed. So you walk even further until you see someone approaching you at some speed. You clench your fists in a defensive position, preparing yourself. When you feel the person's body collide with yours, and you both roll into the forest. You get lost in the moment, feeling some rocks and branches touching your skin as you and the person roll on the ground.

"What the hell are you doing? Trying to kill us both?" You say as soon as you stop rolling after hitting a tree. Your body already shows signs of feeling the impact, but your anger speaks louder. Especially when you realize who it is. Sirius, who is currently positioned right on top of you, says nothing. He just lightly presses his fingers over your mouth and shushes you. His hand smells nice, like vanilla. But you're itching to kick him where it would hurt most and get him off of you. Then you hear a loud, pained howl, as if from a wounded animal. You also notice that Sirius's arm is injured. And it's like a puzzle assembling itself right in front of you.

"Where's Lupin?" You ask, concerned. Sirius looks at you with a serious expression as if he's annoyed that you didn't shut up.

"I'd like to explain, but it'll be better if we stay quiet." Sirius says, almost against your mouth due to how close he is. You stare at him, feeling his blood touch your skin. He's losing a lot of blood. You need to help him.

"I'll distract whatever's coming. You try to find someone to help you. Don't try to be a hero. You'll die if you keep bleeding like this. Just run in a different direction from mine and try to stay alive." You say, gently pushing Sirius's body off of you and then figuring out how to get the creature's attention. Your only option was to do what the creature does best. So you let out a loud howl, trying to mimic the creature's noise. Soon, the sounds of the creature approaching can be heard. Sirius must have noticed that you were truly determined to attract the creature's attention, because he disappeared once you howled. You then started running as if your life depended on it. But before you left, you grabbed a branch. Your feet pound the ground at an unprecedented speed as you flee from the creature. But it's not enough, as somehow the shaggy creature appears in front of you. You have no doubt it's a werewolf. And the creature looks at you as if it knows who you are. It moves as if it's about to come towards you, and you grip the branch as if to attack the creature. And then it occurs to you that perhaps you can speak to the werewolf, especially if it's who you suspect it is.

"Remus, don't make me attack you. I… don't know you as well as I'd like, but I don't want to hurt you. I know. Deep down, you know it too. You don't want to hurt me, just like you didn't want to hurt Sirius. Just try to stay calm. I know it might seem silly, but focus on what's around you. Your home is nearby. Where your students study. Harry, Hermione, Ron, Draco, Luna, and many others. They need you." You speak, trying to appeal to the human inside the creature. And for a few seconds, you think you succeeded, until you hear footsteps that distract both you and the creature. And just when it seems like the werewolf is going to attack you, you see four small bodies throwing stones at it. You can bet that Potter, Granger, Weasley, and Malfoy are the students daring enough to venture out of Hogwarts at this hour. Even though Draco might have only come with them because Harry did. You don't have time to think. When you realize that your students might be in danger, you throw your entire body against the werewolf's. You close your eyes tightly to avoid seeing the damage, but you manage to bring the creature down, causing both of you to fall near a stream. Or something like it; you can only hear the sound of water as you begin to lose consciousness.

When dawn breaks, you're unsure if you're alive or how you survived. All you know is that your body is racked with pain. Looking around, you realize that yesterday's events weren't just a dream. Your eyes settle on another person nearby. Despite feeling a bit dizzy, you muster the determination to get up and confirm what you already suspected. The naked man lying unconscious by the stream is Lupin. He's covered in bruises and has a cut near his mouth. So, Remus Lupin is a werewolf, and last night he nearly caused quite a problem. And to top it all off, you'll need to figure out how to carry him somewhere.

To be continued...

[mononokevalley]

Cjavalâr

In Friulian folklore, one of the most mysterious and eerie figures is the Cjavalâr, a ghostly horse that has haunted the imaginations of locals for centuries.

The name "Cjavalâr" comes from the Friulian word cjaval, meaning horse, with the suffix -âr possibly indicating a unique or singular being. While the exact origins of the Cjavalâr are unclear, many believe it to be the spirit of a horse that met a tragic or violent end, perhaps due to mistreatment or a fatal accident. Some even suggest it could be the manifestation of a cursed soul, condemned to roam the earth in the form of a horse as punishment for a grievous wrongdoing.

The Cjavalâr is often described as a large, spectral horse, with a coat that’s either as dark as night or an eerie, ghostly white that seems to glow faintly in the moonlight. Its eyes are said to burn with an unnatural fire, and its hooves make no sound as it glides over the ground. In some accounts, the Cjavalâr is shrouded in mist or surrounded by a cold aura, further emphasizing its otherworldly nature. Despite its imposing size and terrifying presence, the Cjavalâr is usually silent, but there are stories of it emitting eerie sounds—whispers, whinnies, or even screams—that can chill the blood of anyone who hears them.

Stories of encounters with the Cjavalâr vary, but they all share a common theme of unease and foreboding. In many tales, the appearance of a Cjavalâr is seen as an ominous sign, often foretelling death or disaster. Those who see the ghostly horse are advised to avoid its path at all costs, as crossing it or trying to follow it is believed to bring misfortune. There are accounts from the Carnia region where sightings of the Cjavalâr were said to precede devastating storms or accidents. In some of these stories, those who ignored the warnings and crossed the Cjavalâr's path experienced a series of tragic events or unexplained illnesses soon after.

Another common version of the legend portrays the Cjavalâr as the spirit of a wronged or lost soul, doomed to wander until it finds peace. In this role, the Cjavalâr is sometimes depicted as seeking out specific individuals, often descendants of those responsible for its suffering in life. There are tales from the Val Resia area where people claimed the Cjavalâr appeared near ancient paths, seemingly searching for someone or something, only to vanish into the night, leaving behind a deep sense of dread.

In some less common stories, the Cjavalâr acts as a guide, leading lost travelers through dangerous terrain or helping them find their way home. However, this assistance often comes at a price. In one tale from the Tagliamento River area, a lost fisherman was guided to safety by a mysterious horse, only to later discover that he had unwittingly promised to help the Cjavalâr find peace by retrieving a lost relic. The fisherman eventually fulfilled his promise, but the encounter left him deeply shaken.

In many rural communities, the legend was once used to caution against the mistreatment of animals, reflecting a belief that cruelty could have severe consequences in the afterlife. In the plains of Friuli, near towns like Codroipo, it was said that the Cjavalâr could be seen near fields where horses were once overworked or abandoned, serving as a grim reminder of the need for compassion towards animals.

The Cjavalâr’s association with death and the afterlife resonates in a broader cultural context as well, serving as a metaphor for the idea that actions in life have consequences that may extend beyond the grave. As environmental and animal rights issues gain prominence, the Cjavalâr’s legend is sometimes reinterpreted as a call for greater respect for all living creatures.

[photos from the Internet]

[tozettastone]

Hugging anon here, was just wondering if kakuzu would enjoy the physicality of the hug or is it something else that he would enjoy?

You mean this post?

I think first of all we must recognise that the phrase "hugging practitioners" indicates that this may, perhaps, have been a little bit of a joke.

But assuming we choose take it seriously (and like why not? sure), it doesn't say he would enjoy it. It says he would benefit from it. There are many things one needs and from which one benefits that one does not enjoy. This includes, for example, every single chore, therapy, surgery, taking antibiotics with shit side effects for serious bacterial illnesses, most time spent in the gym, and experiencing brief acute stress.

The health benefits of slow and gentle interpersonal touching are pretty consistent for most people. From a neurological perspective, such touches stimulate various biochemical changes, which help us manage pain, bond with others, and become more resilient to stress — that is, in layman's terms, become more emotionally stable.

Many people in real life use avoidance and anger to prevent themselves from feeling vulnerable or facing discomfort. As a fictional character, Kakuzu is intended to provide the effect of a "real person," to a reader, even though he may not be a very realist representation.

From canon and the data books, we know Kakuzu has abandoned faith in other people and replaced it with his faith in money. We know he was given a highly dangerous mission with a low chance of success, and then when he failed at that mission, his village turned on him until he broke away from them in a violent and explosive way. We can extrapolate from all these circumstances that he has experienced significant trauma related to trusting others. We also know that this character avoids circumstances he doesn't like by either literally avoiding them (leaving) or using violence to resolve problems so he doesn't have to address them in a more meaningful way (for example, interpersonal arguments). Sometimes he does both.

However, Kakuzu never appears particularly excited about committing violence, unlike Hidan or Deidara are, so his killing of all his previous partners — until they found him an immortal — indicates that he uses it as a tool to manage interpersonal relationships.

This suggests that Kakuzu is not actually very resilient to stress, and that he considers fractious interpersonal experiences to be a source of that stress. It might not initially appear to be related to trauma and anxiety, but it is a coping mechanism developed within the rules of his violent ninja setting: he does not consider war or violence stressful. He considers relationships stressful. He uses violence as a coping mechanism for relationships.

This is maladaptive. It locks him out of the health and social benefits associated with close interpersonal relationships. As we know from studies of people with, for example, schizoid and avoidant personalities, the quality of life of people who pathologically avoid close relationships can be significantly worse than the control group.

So, a summary:

Canon and supplementary materials suggest Kakuzu avoids close relationships with others for formative trauma reasons

He clearly uses violence as a maladaptive coping mechanism to avert interpersonal relationships

Avoiding close relationships with others results in a lower quality of life

Among the benefits of slow and gentle touching (such as hugging) are interlinked social and neurological benefits, including pain management, closeness to others and resilience to stress

Kakuzu would benefit if he was hugged more because he would experience closeness to others and greater emotional stability

This will not happen because Kakuzu uses violence as a maladaptive going mechanism to avert interpersonal relationships

there you go, anon