#soap: YOU WONT GO WILLINGLY

[cod-dump]

Ghost meeting one of Soap's cousins and getting into a deep conversation with them. Only when he starts wanting to bring up past trauma does he realize this cousin is a trained pyschiatrist.

[amisalami03]

cave mommy headcanons :D [this is my first time doing this help]

i'm gonna flip the script a little with this one, I think shes way more chill BUT will troll at any time >:)

she walked past pickle and sprayed him for no reason which resulted in a mini brawl , it was swiftly ended when cave shawty picks pickle up and suplexes him, so in celebration she beats her chest then goes to sleep in a nearby tree

she's definitely omnivorous in my book but she will eat meat and acts like a leopard by hiding her game in trees and pissing on those who walk to close to her territory this isn't a piss-kink thing I swear she's literally feral and piss is her prehistoric version of pocket sand

ironically enough though she and pickle are mated but he can not stand her ass sometimes, but she literally doesn't gaf and will lay on top of him (because she can.) and pickle does not seem to mind his woman using him as a mattress he will growl lowly but eventually puts himself to sleep since her warmth, scent and breathing patterns make it impossible to keep him awake lol (also its a sense of familiarity and comfort of her being the only thing he left of the past, so he willingly tolerates it)

because of her retsu's hair has been let down to its full glory and she even gave him a beautiful restyle :3 (lots of stick and shiny rock so cool |:) <- cave mommymoji) pickle didnt like it and wanted to fight retsu but a swift kick upside his head thwarted that act of petty conflict

she has no clue whats going on but is happy to see such small little guys doing complex things

she fucking LOVES pinwheels and windchimes hell yes little trinkets for her pretty please, even pickle is entertained when she shoves a pinwheel in his hair and shows him her stolen hardware store collection of chimes and shiny glass lawn ornaments used to water flowers -> |:) [her proud face]

she scratches her head like a dog and prefers to stay quadraped, which threw the boys off when she finally decided to stand on her two legs

katsumi told retsu he saw her walking on two legs before everyone else did and retsu called him a liar stating that she simply hadn't "evolved" to do that yet, as soon as he was done saying that she walked right passed them with various lawn ornaments in her arms, farted and continued walking without breaking a stride. retsu was stunned and katsumi just put his hand on his shoulder to console him.

I like to think she has a fighting style similar to dogwatch man from one punch man, which makes her a very hard opponent to defeat since her speed and agility far surpass her bipedal descendants

baki used her as a shield until she force-fed him a handful of grubs and ever since then shes been wondering where he's been |:( his ass ran away from her for about a week

she found him eventually and frantically fussed over him while holding him in a tight embrace, she thought she lost her baby again

Please keep her away from vending machines and claw games, to her they are like giant see through crustaceans she can crack open and benefit from, her and pickle will leave a wake of litter and shards of glass to get whats inside

Loves fountains, they are like vertical waterfalls to her and she’s mesmerized by how the magic water goes up 24/7

She draws cave paintings and is very proud of her work

Absolutely blown away by crayons, completely opened pandoras box for her wait until she learns about paint and markers

Keep scented/colorful soaps and chemicals away from her…she will try to drink them and get sick…no she probably wont die, but she will shit and vomit alot, pickle didnt wanna take the risk to drink fabuloso after that

She has an underbite snaggle tooth that sticks out

This is all I can come up with

This is all I can give you…for now

[sunny-thoughts-with-atlan]

not my normal shiz, but like, i was watching something and was reminded that, Hygiene and Stuff, is an executive function, and one i struggle with

growing up my parents had to fight me to get me into the shower, until very recently i didn't shower but once every 2-3 weeks, I'd use a washcloth to clean anywhere that might have smelled put on deodorant and all that jaz, but i did not have the spoons to take a shower, showers sucked as a kid, and as a tween and even now i still Do Not like them, i hated brushing my hair as a kid, i hated having heat tools used on my hair, to make it look "neat" and because i didn't brush my own hair, my mom would do it, and it hurt, she'd rip it out in the process, which made me hate it more, and did this make my parents decide "maybe hair down to their ass is a bad idea for this child who hates to bathe or brush their hair?" no, i was not allowed to cut my hair short until i was 13, then i wasn't allowed to cut it again until i was 17, showers are easier now because i don't have long hair, taking care of it is something i take pride in, and i hate blow drying it, it's loud and hot, and i fucking hate it, until i was 15 i had to blow dry and straighten my hair after every shower, and i had to straighten it every day i didn't wear it up, i hated doing both of these things, and i was assumed lazy for it(even though i now put more time and effort into my hair MORE THAN WILLINGLY), because it was a perceived norm hygiene is important, and you should do what you can bring yourself to do, but keep in mind that as long as you wash your hands and your bits, don't get up in peoples business when you know you're struggling with keeping clean, and don't spread stuff, it's no one else's business, and you Aren't an awful dirty person for struggling my recommendation is to find what parts you are struggling with, and minimize those issues don't like feeling cold after a shower? make sure the rooms nice and warm, put rugs down that you can put in the washer, get a nice fluffy bath robe. don't like how clothes stick to you right after no matter how dry you try and make yourself? don't wear clothes, maybe wear a robe if it is loose enough not to stick to you, or go into a room by yourself and be naked to let it all airdry for a while, or if you live alone just go on with your activities naked for a while, if you have this issue and the previous issue, maybe sit in front of a space heater with a towel wrapped around you, not to close though, you don't want to burn yourself don't have the energy for a shower? how is the shower draining you especially? cut those parts out. is it the standing in place? sit down, be it in the tub if its clean or on a stool, or even on a washcloth if you cant clean the tub and don't have a stool that you can use in the shower. is it washing your hair? you can just rinse it for now, maybe take a rinse shower mostly and take a hair washing shower less frequently, or if its dealing with wet hair in general, just put a shower cap on and deal with it when you have the energy, it's Okay. is it the washing your body? just wash the important bits for now, it's fine, most people don't have gunk and grime on them and just letting the soap and water run over the rest of you isn't the worst thing, yes it's best to scrub all over but it's okay if you only have the energy for that every once in a while. is the sensory experience of it tiring? what is especially icky sensory wise? is it the noise, the wetness, the tub, the lights in the bathroom? do your best to dim those sensory inputs, if at all possible theres not much to be done about the wetness, i'll admit, but if you can get in and out quickly you wont have to deal with it as long if its the tub, maybe you could put down a mat of some kind that can be thrown in the washer if its the sound, maybe some earplugs if its the lights, turn them off, and get a light that doesn't bother you, it doesn't have to be that bright, just bright enough not to get hurt, and to be able to tell what products you're using, like a battery powered camping lamp with the color of light you like would probably work in general

things like this take a lot more spoons than people who don't struggle with them make it out to be, and I'm sorry you're struggling, I'm still struggling, but it's okay to make the task easier, and it's okay if even that's not enough to be able to do it right then, it doesn't make you bad, or defunct, or lazy, or gross, it makes you a person who's struggling, and that's Okay

[inber]

A/N: This AU fluff is dedicated to @a-kind-of-merry-war because it's sort of in their AU where Geralt is a witcher, but in a modern world. Also because we chatted about this nonsense. Enjoy!

Jaskier clambered into bed, non-slip sock-clad feet daintily pointed as he slid beneath cool linens, fussing with the edges of the fluffy goose-down duvet until it was covering him to his satisfaction. Predictably, this nesting ritual was interrupted when his half-asleep boyfriend – seriously, who goes to bed at eight-thirty? – rolled over, one enormous arm slung over Jaskier’s chest, the heat of him crowding in a cuddle. Jaskier only pretended to grumble before he nuzzled closer to Geralt.

“S’the time?” Geralt slurred.

“Half one, dearest. Shh now, go back to sleep.”

“Mmm.” Geralt agreed, tilting his chin up, hot breath whuffing against Jaskier’s cheek. “Y’smell pretty.”

“Do I?”

“Like... honey.” Geralt said. And then he ran his tongue along Jaskier’s cheek. “Hmm, berry seeds.”

“Geralt!” Jaskier squealed, even as he fought back a giggle at the swipe of mouth, “That’s my new night cream! Don’t lick it off, you dolt, I need it for my beauty rest.”

“You’re plenty beautiful anyway.” Geralt mumbled, words trailing off into the meat of Jaskier’s bicep as he willingly succumbed back to slumber.

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

“Oh, this packaging,” Jaskier griped, storming out of their shared bathroom, “it’s so deceptive! I paid out the arse for this eye cream, and the damn thing is nearly empty!”

“That’s, uh, capitalism, I guess.” Geralt offered, utterly unschooled in the ways of beauty marketing. With a pair of reading glasses perched upon his nose, he was absorbed with a journal regarding exorcism rites and their correlations to mental well-being. Jaskier called it his ‘ghosty woo-woo nonsense’.

“Robbery, is what it is.” Jaskier said, placing the cream on his nightstand. He sighed dramatically. “Organic products are so pricey.”

“I saw a nice scrub at the shop,” Geralt looked up, “apricot or something. Blue lid. Was on sale.”

Jaskier visibly recoiled. “St Ives? Good heavens, man, I’d sooner wash my face with a bar of soap. Urgh, no, no. No thank you.”

Geralt – who often washed his face with a bar of soap – shrugged, and returned to his reading. “You don’t need to buy that stuff if you don’t want to.”

“But you won’t love me when I’m not all soft!” Jaskier whined, draping himself across Geralt’s legs. “When I’m wrinkly and, and old—”

“Like I am?”

“Pish posh and poppycock. You get more handsome with every year. Me, I must work for it.”

“Jaskier,” Geralt sighed fondly, “I don’t love you because of your blemish-free skin. I love you.”

Nibbling at his lower lip, Jaskier affectionately hugged Geralt’s knees. “You’re so sweet. I love you, too. ...I am gonna buy some more eye cream tomorrow, though.”

“M’kay, babe.” Geralt turned the page.

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

“Darling!” Jaskier yelled, three rooms away, as was his wont, “How drunk was I last night?”

Sensibly, Geralt put the mixing bowl full of salsa ingredients down so that he could go converse with his partner at an acceptable volume. He found Jaskier in the bedroom. “On a scale of one to ten? Nine-ish.”

“Oh, blast.” Jaskier sighed, swirling a glass vial in his hand. “I think I must’ve spilled my vitamin C serum.”

“Your what?”

“My cold-pressed, virgin Sicilian orange serum?” Jaskier prompted. “Bought it a few days ago.”

“Smells like orange and lemons.” Geralt supplied, twiddling his thumbs.

“It does, love.” Jaskier’s eyes narrowed as he honed in on his boyfriend’s nervous tell, the back-and-forth rub of his fingers on knuckles. “Do you know what happened to it?”

Geralt cleared his throat and shrugged non-commitally. “Guess you spilled it.”

Geralt was many things, but a good liar was not one of them. Jaskier stared him down, and Geralt eventually ducked his head, pouting at his boots.

“Have you been using it, Geralt?”

“How can you tell if an orange is a virgin, anyway?” Geralt muttered.

The question was left-field enough to disarm Jaskier, who laughed, and considered the possibilities of it. “Actually, you know, I’ve no idea. Further to that – who fucks an orange? Or do the oranges fuck each other?”

Geralt grinned, and let Jaskier run down the path of his own tangent.

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

“Gera-a-a-alt,” Jaskier whined, knocking on the bathroom door, “I need a wee-wee. Hurry up!”

“Don’t come in!”

Jaskier squinted at the door. “Why?”

“I, uh, just... don’t!” Geralt snapped.

“What are you doing in there? Are you alright?”

“Nothing!”

There was the sound of clattering. Jaskier raised an eyebrow. “Geralt?”

“I’m—I’m having a wank! Go away!”

“Ooh, but you know I’d love to help—”

“It’s--a really intense wank! You don't wanna see!”

“Alright,” Jaskier picked up a teaspoon on the dresser to turn the lock from the outside, “now I’m definitely coming in.”

“No! It’s, I—”

Standing in the open door, Jaskier gawked at Geralt, surrounded by moisturisers and exfoliators and masques, opened and spread around him in a semi-circle. Some of them were on his face. More importantly, they were around his mouth.

“Geralt?”

“I can explain!”

“Have—have you been eating my beauty regime?”

Geralt flushed scarlet, and licked some cherry scrub off the corner of his lips. “If—if they aren’t for eating, then why do they smell so nice?”

Jaskier stared at him. The carnage, the expense – the ridiculousness of it all. He began to laugh, belly-deep, bent over until he was wheezing and aching and tears were marching down his cheeks. Geralt watched, guiltily licking some day cream from between his fingers.

“Oh, mercy. Geralt, you truly are something else. You absolute pillock of a witcher, I am so mad at you right now!”

“I... like that they taste of you.” Geralt mumbled, avoiding Jaskier’s stern eyes.

“You are buying me more.” Jaskier instructed, rubbing a fond thumb along Geralt’s cheekbone, silently asking him to look up. “And from now, you are only to taste it upon my skin, not from the jar. Are we agreed?”

With a wobbly smile, Geralt nodded. “I’m sorry.”

“I know you are. C’mon, let’s clean this up.”

After that, if there was an extra tube of honey and raspberry moisturiser in Jaskier’s shopping, or if he left a tub of peppermint hand lotion out on the kitchen counter for Geralt to come across? Happy accidents, that was all.

[gludgenbell]

So, I’ve recently been reading a lot of humans are space orcs things/humans and aliens interactions/humans are adorable and the like, and I’ve never had anything to contribute until I sat down and blew bubbled in my parent’s faces last night Humans and Bubbles How would aliens react to a human blowing air into a hole of soapy liquid? Like, think about it. You can make bubbles almost anywhere, and for most everyone its adroable. So, from an alien’s perspective This space orc you invited on your crew- this hulking mass of pure terror, the creature that constantly risks its life for stupid reasons such as ‘pride’ or ‘honor’- whatever those words mean. This human is sitting there, in the bathroom, blowing bubbles everywhere. And you wont tell them to stop, why would you? They have the ability to kill you right then and there if they so pleased, right? They’re just standing there. Blowing bubbles. They warn you not to get too close, because they pop.  This horrifies you. Why cant you get close? What will happen when it pops? The human smiles, seemingly pleased with its ‘bubbles’ and begins popping them. You back away in fear, but the human doesn’t look injured. Infact, they look joyful! You try to pop one yourself, just to see what the human is experiencing. Instead, you get soap in your eye, and it stings like hell.  You scream, but the human waves it off and tells you to ‘wash it out’ whatever that means! You no longer bother the human or even go near them when they’re ‘blowing bubbles.’ The previous experience has scarred you enough, and made you fear the creature even more.  What speices willingly lets their offspring near this ‘bubble’ and even when it stings, even when the taste is terrible in your mouth and you cant get it out- they continue to enjoy this... ‘bubble blowing fun.’

[buckyscrystalqueen]

Unlikely Parents: Part 3

Pairings: Negan x reader (Jane the Virgin AU), Hotel owner!Negan x Parolee!Reader

Warnings: Artificial insemination, Swearing, Angst, mentions of torture, abuse, violence, murder...

Word Count: 6,738

A/N: Yea, this took on a life of its own…. Not sorry.

Part 1 / Part 2

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

“I wont be gone long, just gotta take care of some shit outta town.” It had only been two weeks since Negan had been gone, but you were in absolute hell from the moment he left, until you saw him again. You worked open to nearly close for two weeks straight, but you didn’t dare open your mount to complain to Lucille, who made the schedule, out of fear that she would call your probation officer and send you back to jail. So you bit your tongue, got up at 4:45 every morning to open, and busted your ass until 9 at night when your curfew mandated you be home, only to battle crazy heartburn and insomnia until you had to work again. 

“Incoming.” One of the guys that worked as a waiter around the pool said as he stopped flirting with the girl that was running the register with you and went back to get more orders from the pool patrons. You continued to clean off tables, not wanting to deal with the wrath of Lucille again, and you jumped about a foot in the air when a hand touched the small of your back.

“Hey, what time...” Negan started, making you turn toward him. You could almost feel his stomach drop as he looked at the dark circles under your eyes and the exhaustion you couldn’t keep off your face if you tried. “When was the last time you fucking slept?” You shook your head and glanced down at the table you were cleaning as you honestly tried to give him an answer.

“What day is it?”

“Alright, you’re fucking done.” He barked as he pulled the rag from your hands and tossed it toward the bar.

“Wait, I’m not done...”

“The fuck you’re not.” He said as he took ahold of your arm and lead you away from the table you were cleaning. “I’m giving you the rest of the fucking day off. No, the rest of the fucking week off.”

“No, Negan, it’s fine.” You tried as you walked with him in shoes that had started to give you blisters days before because of how swollen your feet were. “Negan, please...” He didn’t say another word as he lead you back into the employee locker room while pulling up the last two weeks schedule on his phone, and he gestured for you to sit down on the bench and wait for him as he stormed over his soon to be ex wife’s office.

“You have got to be fucking kidding me!” He roared as he ripped open her door. “You’ve had her working open to fucking close for two fucking weeks straight when she’s fucking pregnant!”

“She wasn’t open to close.” Lucille tried as you scooted down the bench a bit to put your work shoes in your locker and grab the paper like slippers you had gotten from one of the ladies in the spa.

“Six in the fucking morning to fucking nine at night is open to fucking close, Lucille! You’re fucking done! I want you outta my fucking hotel now! You’re fucking fired!” You startled the slightest bit when he slammed the door, and you looked over at your boss as he came back over to escort you upstairs. “The fuck are those?” Your eyes dragged away from his sluggishly to look down at the slippers he was gesturing to and you shrugged your shoulders.

“My feet hurt.”

“Jesus fucking Christ.” He muttered as he pulled you to your feet. “Come on, let’s get you upstairs.” With a nod, you let him lead you to the elevators like a lost puppy and up to your suite. You almost wanted to cry when you looked at your neatly made bed, and as if he read your mind, he gave you a gentle push in that direction. “Get changed, and take a nap. I’ll wake you up for dinner, OK?” Tears welled in your eyes in gratitude as you stepped out of your slippers and looked back at him.

“Will you just... can you stay? You look tired too.”

“You have no fucking idea, but...”

“Please?” That one simple word was enough to make him cave, and he nodded his head and toed off his shoes with a sigh.

“Don’t get fucking used to it.” He huffed as you grabbed a nightgown from your drawer and shuffled toward the bathroom.

“Wouldn’t dream of it.” You change into your pjs in a matter of minutes and left your bra and your dress on the bathroom floor, so beyond functioning anymore than the most basic tasks. The high thread count sheets felt like heaven as you slipped between them, and you scooted across the king sized bed to the middle where you liked to sleep best.

“I am so fucking sorry, sweetheart.” Negan whispered as he laid down in front of you and slightly hesitantly rested his fingertips on your bump.

“I would have been OK.” You sighed as you moved and flattened his hand on your stomach. “‘S’like being in prison again.”

“Yea, that’s exactly my fucking point.” He grumbled as he shifted to get comfortable, subtly making his hand slide to your hip. A small smirk pulled at the corner of your lips and you took the risk to scoot forward so you were up against his chest. He let out a slightly defeated huff, but still pulled you impossibly closer to his chest and kissed your forehead. “Sleep.”

“I’m sleeping, I’m sleeping.”

——

You had always known you talked in your sleep from years of dealing with various cell mates, but when the hot dream you were having spilled out into reality, you were yanked from your nap by blunt nails digging in to the back of your hip and shoulder and Negan’s warm breath on your forehead.

“I need you to fucking stop saying my fucking name like that, baby girl.” He growled, which only made you impossibly more horny as someone that hadn’t been with a man in almost eight years could possibly be.

“Negan...” You whined on a breath as you reached up and touched his scruff covered cheek. He didn’t even try to fight you as you captured his lips with yours and he willingly let you roll him onto his back so you could straddle his lap. You smirked against his lips when you felt his length pressing against your core, which immediately made you forget how tired you were and made your confidence sky rocket.

“Oh...” You cooed with a smirk as you pushed yourself up by his chest so you could sit up and look down at him. “Did you miss me?”

“You’re worth missing... God fucking damnit.” He groaned as you pulled your nightgown off and tossed it across the room. “Fuck, baby girl. Will you fucking look at you.”

“I’m a peach, what can I say?” You teased as you ran your fingers from your hips up your tattooed sides, and through your loose hair. 

“Oh, one fucking gorgeous peach.” He agreed as he pushed his hips against yours and pulled you down toward him by the arm. “Fuck, I wish I had met years ago. Coulda saved you...” Your lips froze on his neck, and you almost instantly lost interested in what you were doing as you sat back up to look at him with your eyebrow raised.

“Saved me from...?”

“From having to live with your fucked up family...”

“OK, my mother wasn’t fucked up, thank you.” You snapped as you put one hand on his chest and the other on your 15 week along bump to get off of the man in your bed. “We did just fucking fine...”

“OK, hold the fuck on.” He said as he quickly jumped up and grabbed his jeans. “No, you’re not shutting me out.” He nearly lost his fingers in the door to your bathroom when you tried to slam it closed, but he still pushed it open and leaned against the frame to talk to you. “Look, If you haven’t fucking figured it out by now, I really like you. Fuck, I’m falling for you hard.”

“You don’t fucking know me... stupid baby bump...” You grumbled as you tried unsuccessfully to hide behind a hotel towel. 

“OK, here.” You scowled at him and took a step over to you to slam the door closed to lock him out, but he stuck his arm in the opening and pushed it back open to hand you his dress shirt. “Rude.”

“Necessary.”

“I’ve kept my fucking distance from you since the day I met you in a last fucking ditch effort to save my sham of a marriage with a wife that fucking hated me. But there is no fucking point in that anymore. And while I was fucking keeping my distance, I read the court records from your plea. You didn’t fucking traffic those drugs to get out, did you?”

“Shut up, Negan.” You tried to step around him to get out of the bathroom, but he side stepped in front of you to keep you were you were.

“Your father made you move those drugs, didn’t he?”

“Negan, just stop talking...”

“He made you sell those fucking pills...”

“And he would have killed me if I didn’t fucking listen!” You screamed as you looked up and met his eyes with so much anger and sadness, Negan could almost feel his own heart shatter. “My mother is spending life in fucking prison because that’s what he did to her. I had the fucking chance to get adopted by a good fucking family when I was six, but I had to go back to my family because my dad said he’d kill my new family if I didn’t. No one could have saved me, Negan. Not you, not DCFS, not the people that tried to adopt me, not even the kid that killed the grocery store guy accidentally when he tried to get us enough money to run away when my dad was passed out after beating me with a bar of soap in a sock so it wouldn’t leave bruises. No one could save me. So don’t fucking stand there and think you could have done better by me, what, because I’m pregnant with your kid now? Because you realize that I’m actually a decent person that has no fucking choice but to live a shitty life. 

I’m not stupid here. I know that my dad gets out of prison in three years and he’s coming for me when he does for fucking up his run. And I know I’ll lose my daughter to you when he gets out because I won’t let her grow up anywhere near him because I can’t leave the fucking county for the next four years... as long as I’m a fucking good girl that is. But that won’t fucking happen because my dad is a fucking tool and he’ll figure out how to use me to do his bidding, probably by threatening you or our child, which he will do since he used my mom to get me to do it in the first place and me to get her to do it, too. And I’ll end up right back in the fucking system to save you. There’s no saving me, Negan. Never has been, never will be. So just let me get what love I can from my kid before I have to turn my back on her to save her life. No, stop let me go...”

“No.” He said as he wrapped you in a hug and held on tightly. You yelled his name and tried to pull back away from him, but he simply stepped impossibly closer and shook his head against the top of your head. “No.” You fought for a moment or two longer before you finally broke down into loud sobbed tears, intermittent by screams. 

“It’s OK.” He whispered softly against the crown of your head as he ran his fingers through your hair and down your back. “It’s OK now.” He held you until you were shaking so violently, you could barely hold yourself up, and at that point, he simply picked you and carried you back to bed, where you cried yourself back to sleep. He knew there was nothing at all that he could say to make this situation better, so instead, he called Beth on her day off to find out some of your favorites, and ordered a pizza, and every single kind of dessert the room service menu offered. As he waited for your dinner to arrive, he called the first and only lawyer he could think of, a man that had gotten him out of a DUI many years ago, and brushed a few unsavory looking deals under the rug for him (even if he wasn’t happy about doing so and was only in it for the money.)

“Hershel, you gotta see this fucking case file. Her fucking state issue lawyer just let her take the fucking plea, and he would have annihilated this case...”

“Negan, please leave it.” You sighed, half awake, as the smell of pizza pulled you from your nightmare.

“Her fingerprints weren’t on the bag, her dad’s were.” Negan continued as he stood at the end of the bed and called you forward with his finger. A small smirk pulled at the corner of your lips and you playfully shook your head and curled up under the blankets. “She didn’t go to trial, didn’t even leave the precinct, she just confessed because her dad threatened to kill her if she flipped. Now she’s fucking pregnant... yea, she’s the one that works with Beth...” His eyes narrowed at you and he continued to call you forward as he listened, but you pulled the blanket over your head so that just your eyes and your nose was showing. 

“Your other daughter’s met her, too. Look, you know I’m not usually an advocate for fucking felons, and sure, this one is different because she’s the mother of my kid, but we’re gunna fucking help her, if it costs me every penny I own, and if it’s the last thing you do... What, am I fucking feeding you in bed here, what?” Your smile grew and you nodded your head, which made Negan shake his head ‘no’ as he wrapped up the conversation. “OK, so your son-in-law then. Look, I’ll send you the case file. Just look it over for me. I’ll double your fees if you agree... Thanks, Greene. What the fuck are you doing to me?”

“You made me cry. You bring the food to me.”

“That’s not how this fucking works.” He laughed as he put his phone on your dresser, and grabbed the room service cart’s handle. “You don’t get rewarded for yelling at me.”

“I get rewarded for growing a baby.” You pointed out as you finally came out of your blanket cocoon and sat up. “And for not walking out the door right now since you don’t wanna listen to me when I tell you to leave my fucking case alone because you don’t know the fucking door you are opening.”

“Eat your pizza.” He said as he put two slices on a plate and passed it over to you, before making his own plate to sit on the bed and eat with you. “You’re always going to make shit harder, aren’t you?”

“Pretty sure that’s because of the tits.” You pointed out before taking a huge bite out of your slice with a smile.

“Fuck you’re gunna be the death of me.” He groaned as he leaned back against the headboard next to you. “And fuck am I glad that I met you. I’m never letting you go.”

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

“You have no idea what you have done.” You muttered in Russian like a broken record as you walked into the county sheriff’s office with a heavy, dirt covered, black trash bag in your arms beside Negan and behind your new lawyers, Beth’s dad, Herschel, and Maggie’s husband, Glenn. Your head shook back and forth like it had all morning, as you thought about exactly what was in the lock box that you and your mother buried by a lake in your apartment complex.

“In here.” Hershel said as he gestured you into a large interview room, where the DA, Michonne Hawthorn-Grimes, her husband Sheriff Rick Grimes, and your probation officer, Daryl Dixon were waiting. You stopped in the doorway as you realized that the one thing you feared more than your father was actually happening, but before you could step back, Negan grabbed your upper arm and pulled you into the room.

“Alright, so what are we here to talk about?” Michonne asked, but you shook your head and stayed in the corner by the door.

“If I put this bag down on the table.” You started as you looked at her and only her. “You will need to get my mother and a Russian translator. I can give you solid, undeniable evidence of six murders, and proof that both her and my confessions and crimes were done under duress. But I won’t do it without her, and she won’t speak to anyone about it unless I’m in the room. We agreed decades ago that if we were going down this road, we’d go down in flames together or wait until the other person was dead. And some of the things I have in here will only be hearsay without her.” The room was quiet for a moment as the three people sitting on the far side of the table, who hadn’t already heard your spiel, exchanged looks and had a silent conversation, weighing the pros and cons, before curiosity got the better of Michonne and she nodded her head.

“Let’s make that happen.” She said as Rick took a step toward the door.

“Just... have the CO tell her that I said it’s time to smoke. I promise it’s not a code for anything bad, it’s just a Russian phrase we designated when we talked about this moment. ‘Dyma bez ognya ne byvayet.’ ‘Where there’s smoke, there’s fire’. This box is the fire.”

“We Googled it on the way here.” Glenn told him as he set down a yellow legal pad on the table in front of him. “It’s the proper translation.”

“OK.” Rick said with a nod before he turned and headed out the door to make some calls.

“OK, put the bag down now.” Negan said before you started your pacing again while you waited.

“I can take it.” Officer Dixon tried as he took a step toward you.

“No, you can’t.” You countered quickly as you turned away from him. “My fingerprints have been on these bags for years. Yours have not. I will not let anything ruin this case, because my mom and my life literally depend on it.”

“OK, then let’s set it down in the middle here.” Negan said softly with a small, reassuring smile as if he was trying not to frighten a scared cat, showing a softer side that none of the people in the room had ever seen of the semi-shady hotel owner that could never be caught. “It’s not good for the baby to keep holding on to it.” With a numb nod, you finally stepped away from the door and placed the bundle on the edge, before taking a step back to start pacing the length while you waited. With a slightly content and yet still very concerned sigh, Negan grabbed a chair beside your lawyers to wait until you could get the show on the road.

“She’s making me nauseous.” Daryl said at the one hour mark as he, like everyone else in the room watched you wear a path in the linoleum.

“She should be here any minute.” Rick, who had come back after making his calls, said as he leaned on the wall beside a two way mirror and next to a video camera he had brought back in with him.

“I know you’re nervous.” The translator, a woman name Andrea, said softly in Russian, which was almost as much of your first language as English was, in an attempt to get you to calm down anyway she could. “But it’s going to be alright. We will protect you...”

“You cannot protect me if this doesn’t work.” You told her with a shake of your head as you turned around to head the other way. “If this evidence doesn’t count, there will be no stopping him.” You came to a dead stop when the door to the room was opened, and tears instantly welled up as your mother, Masha, was lead in in chains. “Mama, I’m sorry.”

“No, no, my love. It’s alright.” She responded in Russian as well as she cupped your face in her hands, while the translator started doing her job. “It’s time. This fire has smoked long enough.” You nodded your head in agreement and closed your eyes as she pulled you toward herself so she could kiss your forehead. She stayed there for a moment as her tears fell softly into your hair, since it had been nine years since she saw you last, and there was a chance she’d never be able to see you again. “Oh, it’s been too long, my love.”

“I’m sorry, we are on a bit of a time crunch here.” Michonne interrupted a little impatiently. “We can give you a couple minutes when we are done...”

“Thank you.” You said with a sniffle as you forced yourself to step back so that the officer that brought your mom in could take off her handcuffs. You told her quickly what Negan was helping you both with lawyers so that everything stuck, and she nodded her head as she reached out and gently touched your bump with an award winning smile. She shuffled over to the table in her shackles and took a deep breath as you both stopped side by side, looking at the bag.

“Burning roses.” Your mother said with a glance over at you. With a nod of your head, she reached out and pushed the two trash bags down to reveal a waterproof lockbox that held so many secrets. You helped her pull the box out, set it down in front of you, and pushed the bags out of the way as your mother started the story of your father. 

“In late 1986, early ‘87, a prostitute was picked up from Miami Beach, and she never saw the light of day again.” She set the box’s lock down on the table and flipped open the nearly full box to grab a the first stack of Polaroids that had been collected over the years, while you started going through the box of cassette tapes to find the one that went with this part of the story. “She was beaten, raped, tortured, partially dismembered, burned, and sodomized in a shack in the Everglades, that would eventually be burned to the ground.” Neither you, nor your mother could spend more than a second looking at the photos as they were laid out on the table for everyone to see, so she just kept going as gloves were passed out to the people that needed them so that evidence wasn’t contaminated any more than it already had been.

“She was then dumped.” Masha continued as she continued to lay out photos your father had taken for whatever stupid reason he had had back then. “In a 55 gallon drum of sulfuric acid, while still alive, and left to die a horrible, painful death. I was never told where the barrel was, and as far as I know, it was never found. I met Richard Mason (Y/L/N) in the summer of ‘88 when he came in to the physical therapy center I was a receptionist at for a leg injury he sustained at work. His left lower leg and ankle were crushed by a steel pipe that fell off a truck on the job site, but today, I believe it was self inflicted. He was never able to walk right after it, one way or another. Unfortunately, I fell in love with him, but he only saw a free meal ticket. We started dating, and shortly after, got pregnant with (Y/N), and I thought it would be a good idea to get married to be a family.

I found those photos when I was helping him pack up his apartment to move into mine, and I knew I had to confront him about it. But I also knew that I needed proof to take to the cops. So I hid the photos so he wouldn’t know I found them and went out and bought a tape recorder. This is the confrontation.” You hit play, gently set the tape recorder down on the table, and reached over for your mom’s hand.

“Richard? What are these?”

“What are what?”

“These Polaroids I found in that shoe box in the closet. They’re... really grap...” Your mother’s words were literally choked off before a loud bang rattled you to your very core and made you close your eyes as tears started to fall on your bump.

“Now you listen here, cunt.” Your father growled in a tone that you were so used to hearing but still sent shivers up your spine. “Don’t ever, ever fucking touch my shit again. Those photos? I fucking did that shit because that fucking whore thought she’d be fucking smart and tried to get mouthy with me. Now you’re fucking lucky. You suck my dick a hell of a lot better than her, and you don’t fucking fight when I fucking ‘play rape’ you or whatever fucking bullshit you wanna call it to make it all better in that thick fucking skull of yours. So do me a fucking favor, put the fucking photos back in the fucking box, shut your Goddamn mouth about them, and pretend you never fucking saw them or I will cut that fucking monstrosity out of your fucking belly, shove it in a fucking blender, and force it down your fucking throat. Are we fucking clear?” You heard your mothers choked ‘mmhmm’ on the tape and you launched out of your chair as she quickly hit stop. Negan had maybe a second to hand you a trash can before you started getting sick, and the rest of the room sat in disgusted, and stunned silence.

“We’re only just getting started.” Masha said with a shake of her head as she grabbed the next stack of polaroids from the box to keep adding fuel to the fire to guarantee it would either stop your father... or be the nail in both of your coffins and hopefully a quick death (which you both knew wouldn’t be the case). “We still have 20 years of shit to get through.”

“I think we need to call a few more people.” Rick said with a slow shake of his head as Negan pulled his chair over to sit behind you and your mother with a new trash can Glenn had grabbed from the hall. 

“I think you may be right on that one.” Michonne agreed as she started writing notes at lightening speed.

——

It took fourteen hours to go through everything you and your mom had collected throughout the years as leverage over your father. Fourteen hours of listening to cassette tapes and then cell phone recordings, fourteen hours of watching slightly obstructed videos of the beatings you both took over the years, fourteen hours of translating coded notes of memories of incidents you had both tried to push out of your heads but were never completely able to do. It took fourteen whole hours to relive every horrifying, traumatic moment of your life, but at the end of those fourteen hours, all of it was completely worth it.

You and your mother spoke to three judges, four prosecutors, and multiple city, county, and state police. You spoke to the DEA and the FBI, reopening cold cases and putting them to rest. You spoke to the states attorney and even the governor about everything. You both gave sworn, videoed confessions of your parts in crimes you had committed over time under your fathers orders and threats, and you were thankfully pardoned in all cases. The judge that sentenced both you and your mom to prison nine years prior, and the states attorney happily vacated your conviction, letting you walk out the door after a free woman, and had your mothers sentence reduced from first degree murder, to justified homicide, since there was a video of your father holding a knife to your throat in your living room until she agreed to kill a man that owed him money, and he and the governor both agreed to seal your records, to give you some semblance of closure to your past. 

Multiple people that met the pair of you agreed that her nine years spent behind bars was enough, but since she did actually kill someone, it was agreed that that two years of minimal, unofficial, and sponsored probation would be the final step. She was to report directly to officer Dixon every Wednesday at exactly 5pm, she would still have to pass a urine test, and she still couldn’t leave the county without permission, but other than that, she was also free to go.

“She’ll be out of the system by morning.” A now nameless to you officer said as he pulled out handcuffs to take your mother back to jail.

“She can just stay here.” Rick said as he scratched at the scruff on his cheek.

“There’s no point in making her suffer in prison another night. I’ll have the paperwork sent through first thing in the morning so she can be released.” Michonne agreed as she collected her notebooks and paperwork as Rick’s officers boxed up all of the evidence on the table to store until your father’s trial began. 

“Let’s get you home, baby girl.” Negan said softly, but you shook your head and stepped closer to your mother as she was unshackled.

“I’m staying with my mom.”

“No, sweetheart, go sleep in a bed.” Your mom tried, but you shook your head.

“нет.”

“We have room in the crib.” Rick said as he walked you all out of the interrogation room.

“OK, well I’m not fucking leaving you here alone, so you got room for three?” With a sigh, Rick nodded his head and gestured for you to follow after you said goodbye and thanks to your lawyers. You could feel yourself slipping into exhaustion as you were led back to a room with metal bunkbeds, and when you sat down on one of the bottom bunks in the middle of the room, Negan helped your mom scoot another bed closer before taking off your shoes so you didn’t have to bend over around your growing bump.

“So tell me all about it.” Masha said with a smile as she sat down on the bed across from you and pulled off her blue prison top and set it aside. “How did you two meet?”

“I was… no, come back…” You started but whined when Negan went to grab his own bunk. “It’s cold.”

“You’re always fucking cold.” He huffed as he took off his jacket and dropped it over your shoulders.

“I blame your son.”

“Yea, it’s always my fucking son when it’s pissing you off, and your sweet daughter every other time.”

“That’s the way it works.” Your mother laughed as she looked at the pair of you with a smile that threatened to break her cheeks. “It will always be your child when he’s bad, and hers when it’s good.”

“Great.”

“I think it’s a girl.” You said as you laid down on the bed in front of her and leaving enough room behind you so that Negan could lay down on the small bed too. “She was an accident. You remember that woman that came into the prisons…”

“Which one?”

“Suchka s temnymi volosami, kotoryye puskali vodku v tvoyu kisku kazhdyy raz, kogda tebe prikhodilos' yeye videt’.” Your mother smirked at your description of your old OB, and nodded her head as all three of you laid down for a few hours until she could leave.

“She did like to breathe her alcohol on your pussy.”

“She artificially inseminated me ‘on accident’.” You continued softly in Russian out of habit, since her first language was the language she had taught you as a baby when your dad wasn’t around so you could talk to her secretly when he was around, as Negan pulled his jacket around you a little more and put his hand on your hip. He kissed your shoulder and laid down behind you as you smiled at your mom like a happy kitten. “He wanted a kid but he had cancer and a low sperm count. So he froze a sample to use with his ex wife, who has made my life a living hell for the last two months because he’s divorcing her, falling for me, and I’m pregnant with ‘her son’. He gave me a place to live when he found out because I was gunna give him the baby… and then I heard her little heartbeat and… well we’re keeping her. I’m keeping her. I’m working at his hotel and he’s keeping me housed and fed for now. And then this girl from work said I could move in with her if I needed to when she’s born. So we’ve just been talking and working it out day by day. No rush, just getting to know each other… and then this shit happened.”

“He’s a cute one.” She sighed as she stretched her hand out for yours. “Kind eyes. You can tell it all by a man’s eyes.”

“I need to get to know him more still.” You said with a smile as you laced your fingers with hers.

“Never stop getting to know each other.” She cooed to both of you as she closed her eyes. “And allow yourself to fall in love.”

——

“Hey, baby girl.” Negan said softly as he came in to the bathroom, where you had been standing pin straight, staring at the edge of the tattoo on your right side after your shower. He touched your shoulder, which made you startle the slightest bit and look over at him in the reflection. “What’s wrong? You’re been just fucking standing in here since your mom went to bed.”

“Have you ever seen a tattoo like this?” You asked as you turned to face him and held your arm up so he could see it completely in the mirror.

“I mean, I saw it on you the other day…”

“It’s a Russian symbol.” You said as you ran your fingers over the tattoo of your mom’s face to the rose and dagger she was holding. “My mom has the same one on her arm but with my likeness. It’s an oath for revenge. I got this tattoo done when I was fourteen years old by someone my mom knew, after my dad locked us both in the closet for a weekend so I wouldn’t go on a school trip to the aquarium while he went on a bender. That weekend, my mother told me everything she had been keeping and recording all my life. And she told me that life was not a bed of roses, but it was up to us and only us to stay alive no matter what.” You shook your head and put his hand on your bump where your daughter kicked for the first time about twenty minutes prior when you were in the shower, before running your fingers across the ink on your skin. “I can’t believe it’s happening… no, don’t move, just wait.” You said as you finally pulled your eyes away from the tattoo to look over at him.

“Is he moving?”

“She kicked when I was in the shower, and now I’m just waiting for her to do it again because I know I can feel her, but I don’t know if you will be able to or not. So now that you’re standing in here with me as I try to sort through this shit in my head, and you can wait with me to see if you can feel it or not.”

“OK.” He said with a nod as he pat your bump with his fingertips. “So we’ll wait together.” You nodded your head and looked back over at your tattoo in the mirror, as Negan laid both hands on your bump with a sigh. You hadn’t felt so weightless in your life, but it didn’t seem real at all. You couldn’t believe that your mother was out of prison and in the next room, and that she was free and would never be beaten or abused again. You couldn’t believe that your father was finally currently housed in a six by nine holding cell in the Florida State Prison, where he would spend 23 hours a day, with no visitors, and no human contact the rest of his life.You couldn’t believe that you had gotten your revenge… and it didn’t seem real. You were free to make your own decisions without worrying about the impact they would have on your mother. And like her, you would never be physically hurt again.

“(Y/N)… I am so, so sorry.” Negan whispered, pulling you out of your thoughts once more. “I didn’t realize…”

“Thank you.” You whispered as you found his eyes in the mirror and then turned toward him completely. “Baby… thank you. We never, ever would have had the courage to stand up to him. Why did you do that?”

“Ummm do what?”

“Why would you save us like that?” You asked as you reached up to touch his jaw.

“Because I needed to.” He smiled as he stepped closer. “Because there is something about you that makes me want to be a better man than I have been the last ten years. Because even though it scares the fuck outta me, I fucking love you.” You smiled, which grew even more as he gently squeezed your bump to pull you forward and your daughter finally kicked back at him.

“We love you too.” You whispered as you reached up and cupped his jaw in his hand. “I love you, Negan. And I don’t and never will deserve you.”

“Yes you do… I’m the undeserving one…”

“No, no your not…”

“Well how about we both be undeserving then?” He asked as he used the heel of his palm to try and get his son (since he refused to get off that train) to kick back again.

“You are always going to be difficult, aren’t you?” He nodded his head as his son kicked back once more, and he slid his hands to your hips to pull you even closer.

“For the rest of your damn life, baby girl. As long as you’ll have me.”

“I’ll have you.”

“Come to bed. You’ve had a long two days.”

“Well that’s your fault.” You huffed as you followed him out of the bathroom to get dressed for bed. “You are just stressing me out and making me lose sleep.”

“Oh, here we go.” He laughed as he got into the bed. “I’m regretting moving you in here with me already.”

“Look. I asked you if three weeks was too short to move in and you said no. I asked you if it was too soon since you just separated…”

“Hey (Y/N)…” Negan said as he held up the blanket for you to get in. “Get in the fucking bed. I want you here…”

“Well who wouldn’t, I’m amazing.” He groaned and rolled away from you for a half second as you got comfortable in front of him to be the little spoon with a giant smile on your face.

“Fuck, you’re gunna drive me fucking crazy…”

“I’ll at least make it fun.” He hummed in agreement, and nodded his head as he pulled you closer to his chest.

“Yea, don’t fucking doubt that.”

[mfkinanaa]

SUN IN SAGITTARIUS.

Sagittarius: Mutable Fire     

Ruler: Jupiter

Keywords: Inspiration, Truth, Expansion, Meaning

Functional Expression: Inspired, seeking knowledge, visionary, fortunate, joyful, purposeful, philosophical, adventurous.

Dysfunctional Expression: Unprincipled, narrow, fanatic, reckless, gluttonous, coarse, rude, amoral.

Expansion and Growth.

When the Sun makes its’ journey through the sign of Sagittarius, the emphasis is on expansion, positivity and growth. Life is best seen as a journey, rather than a destination.

Along the way, Sagittarius brings the need to experience life as an adventure – to discover what is over the next horizon or how far one might go. To this end, those born under Sagittarius tend to love a challenge – finding ways to push past the “envelope” and so broaden perspectives somehow.

As a Fiery and Mutable sign – implying a constant need for change – Sagittarius brings an emphasis to physical and/or mental expression. The quest for freedom and adventure, as well as the search for meaning, tends to feature strongly for those born under this sign

Sagittarians are often characterized by an optimistic, outgoing and “can-do” attitude. Unless other, more introspective influences are present the birth chart, you will usually find Sagittarius where the action is.

This is a sign that loves nothing more than to live life large. When things are going well, those with Sun in Sagittarius are typically convivial, outgoing and good-humoured. Freedom is important and they will be willing to take a risk. This sign requires the space to roam unimpeded, and will usually give others the same in return.

It is important to feel that they have options, and nothing to tell them “no”.Whether they seek this freedom in the world of ideas, or find this freedom on a race-track, Sagittarians push limits and test boundaries to discover how far they can go.

Broadening Horizons.

With the Sun in Sagittarius there can be a tendency to get ‘itchy feet’ if things get too similar or mundane. For this reason, Sagittarius is associated with the experience of travel, and contact with foreign people or places.

In the quest to encounter new experiences, going where they have not been before, Sagittarius can find freedom. Again, life can easily get far too routine for those born under this sign. When this happens, they might find themselves feeling frustrated and so start dreaming up a way out.

When Sagittarius gets restless, it is important they broaden horizons somehow. Going somewhere new is an excellent way to keep life experiences fresh. Sometimes a jaunt to an exotic location is just the thing they need.

At other times, this can be accomplished by visiting a new neighbourhood or restaurant. An important strategy involves making time to travel and discover the unknown.With the Sun in Sagittarius they may invest more time and money in travel than in paying down the mortgage. When Sagittarians feel free they can share their positive energy easily.

Under a Lucky Star.

Sagittarius has a reputation for luck and achievement. Many excellent sportspersons, promoters and gamblers are born to this sign. Yet what might appear as luck is often the unbeatable combination of positive expectation coupled with an eye kept firmly on the prize.

One symbol for this sign is The Archer, and Sagittarians have a way of aiming true – firing themselves directly toward an intended target. Fortune favours the brave, and so, luck follows them around whenever they believe in themselves and the winning roll.

Because their approach to life is basically positive, Sagittarians expect things to go your way. And because they have this expectation, things usually do.

The Sun in Sagittarius prefers making broad strokes with a flamboyant brush, living by the philosophy that more is more, and good things are bound to happen. This positive mindset is another way to challenge limits and boundaries. Through taking risks and coming out on top they discover how far they can go. Every cloud has a silver lining – which sometimes turn to platinum – whenever Sagittarius is around.

Accepting Limits.

Yet all this positive expectation also has its’ drawbacks. Sagittarians can be known for brash, self-centred or excessive behaviour. Because they do not not believe in limits for themselves, they do not apply them when dealing with others.

With the Sun in Sagittarius, they can take things to extremes, or expect liberties from others because they refuse to bow to convention. Hence, they are often accused of being blunt to the point of rudeness or frank beyond socially accepted norms. Sagittarians can ride roughshod over the feelings of others, simply because they know they can.

They can be fickle, opportunistic and inclined to run at the first mention of committment. Some Sagittarians will push a situation to breaking point, just to see if they can. This can lead to broken relationships and instability. A Sagittarius who wont acknowledge limitations often creates excess that in the end proves detrimental.

This can be more of an issue for males than it is females, but the Zodiac is never gender specific. The excessive, fiery and expressive qualities of this sign mean that Sagittarians can love nothing more than testing the limits of physical endurance.

Excessive consumption of food, alcohol or other recreational activities can be detrimental. Pushing their luck until they are ruined may be the only way they know when to stop. As this sign is ruled by Jupiter, they can be prone to diseases of the liver or pancreas, as well as other degenerative diseases that are brought on by excess. Learning to live within the limits is an important part of the Sagittarius journey.

The Nature of Belief.

At a deeper level, the sign of Sagittarius is connected with belief. The journey toward greater levels of experience also involves broadening the mind. By comparing and contrasting different ideas, philosophies, belief systems or cultures, Sagittarians gain new perspectives.

They can enjoy expanding mental horizons through various forms of study, or the contemplation of comparative cultural, spiritual and philosophical values. Even if not studying formally, they are often found watching documentaries or reading non-fiction to learn more about the world. 

At a conceptual level, this sign is associated with philosophy, religion and the broad mental frameworks which generate culture. At a personal level, through comparing philosophies Sagittarius can explore the nature of belief.

With the Sun in Sagittarius, there is often a need to explore many different belief systems along the way finding their own truth. By gathering a variety of perspectives, Sagittarians learn principles which they can then share with others.

As this sign is connected with the teacher and the student, Sagittarius broaden horizons through learning about various beliefs. These beliefs need to be experienced, rather than just talked about.

Sun in Sagittarius will not believe something because they are told to. They need to explore and experience it for themselves. At their finest, Sagittarians can inspire others through the broadness of their perspective. By taking the journey to teach and learn, they discover the inspiration to help others be the best that they can.

Yet the road to exploring the nature of belief can be fraught with danger. Once again, the threat of excess can rear its head. Typically, when Sagittarians encounter something they believe in, they become enthusiastic and want to share it with others. In the rush to spread ‘the good news’ they may ignore others right to discover things for themselves.

They can shift from “teacher” to “preacher”, getting up on their “soap-box”. Sagittarians can fall prey to zealotry under the belief that they have the truth and others do not. They then easily succumb to self-importance and inflation, believing themselves to be visionary advocates for a noble cause.

They might push their version of the truth down others throats because they believe in it so strongly. At a symbolic level, religious conflict is ruled by this sign. With the Sun in Sagittarius it is important to remember that they need to allow others the same level of intellectual freedom that they expect for themselves.

When Sagittarians share what they have learned from an open perspective, others willingly listen. But when they try to force a point of view, people will instinctively switch off. To share their experience they need to take the urgency out of it, and channel their passion into education rather than “reform”. 

Alternately, some Sagittarians can become so disparaging in their search for truth that they become cynical or dismissive. Because their journey is to find out what is true for them, they may reject the beliefs of others, and see these as feeble-minded or simplistic. Then they may lose faith in life through the underlying (and unexplored) belief that they already know all there is to know.

It is easy for them to think there is nothing left to learn. Yet beneath their cynicism is a deep need to find an underlying belief system that can make life meaningful. A Sagittarian with nothing more to explore is a troubled soul.

Their journey involves exploring the nature of hope and faith. They need to maintain faith in order to have the courage to go beyond. Rather than limiting their philosophical options, cynicism can be just another stop along the road toward understanding.

Life should be experienced as a journey toward greater levels of illumination. For many Sagittarians a clear sense of belief may not be reached until even the age of 80. Yet along the way, they most not lose hope. Faith and optimism are essential to find deeper meaning.

Sun in Sagittarius: Your Solar Journey.

Born with the Sun in Sagittarius, you are gifted with an abundance of warmth, energy and positivity. Your sign is noted for a willingness to transcend the everyday by pushing boundaries, demanding freedom and seeking to explore unchartered horizons whenever possible. Your journey involves discovering all that is possible. Your ruler Jupiter brings luck, expansion and opportunity to your door, if only you will take it.

At a deeper level, your sign is concerned with the cultural, philosophical and metaphysical frameworks which make life meaningful. Your journey involves searching for truth and then sharing its manifestation. The path you take should be loud, large and colourful. Through collecting experiences and working out what is true for you, you inspire others to have the courage and faith to do the same.

[starry-knight-skies]

Title: Meant To Be Yours Summary: From the moment they met, Logan knew he and Virgil were meant to be together. There was just something about him that called to his soul, that drew him in like a moth to a flame, and Logan did not have the will to resist. He could see their future together and nothing was going to keep them apart, he wont’ let it. Virgil doesn’t have a choice. Competent Obsessed Logan Au! Come hang out on the Discord for sneak peeks of upcoming chapters (If you like what you read, consider supporting me on Ko-fi) Chapter 1

The idle chatter of students around him did little to distract Logan from the book in front of him. He didn’t care who was up to what over summer break, who was dating who, who got caught cheating on who. It was all pointless, meaningless in a way that none of it would even matter by next week. Just as meaningless as the friendships people made, which would disintegrate when they graduated in June, distance and college making rift that won’t be filled. It was why he never bothered with friendships himself, instead choosing to spend his time focusing on his studies, knowing if he wanted a well respected job like his brother or father, then he’d need to get into a good school. Those dreams didn’t have room for anyone else, and he was okay with that.

The teacher clapped her hands in front of the room as the final bell rang, calling the class to order. The chatter died down and people moved back into their assigned seats, and Logan was grateful for the quiet. He tuned out her welcoming the students to her class, ignored the groans as she talked about year long group assignment partners. It was something she did every year, something everyone knew about, so why be upset when she brings it up? Logan already knew he’d be able to get whoever his partner was to let him do the work, avoid the hassle of having to work with someone who didn’t know what they were doing. 

One by one, the students were paired up by ‘The Hat of Fate’ and one everyone had a partner, they were allowed to get together and get to know each other a little better. Logan internally grimaced at the sound of scraping chairs, not looking up from his book still even as someone came to stand beside him. He decided to speak up before they had the chance to, idly turning a page. “I am more than capable of doing any work assigned to us on our own, but if you’d like to give me your number, I’d be more than accommodating in letting you know when each project is finished.”

The person scoffed, crossing their arms in his peripheral. “Like hell I’m letting you do all the work on your own. What kind of lazy dumbass do you take me for?”

The refusal to let Logan do the work on his own made his attention finally turn to the other person. The first thing he saw was a dark skirt, swirled with blues and purples in an imitation of the night sky, and that alone was enough to tell him who his partner was long before his gaze lifted and he was looking into a pair of rather beautiful, intense, mismatched eyes.

Time seemed to stand still to him, a strange, unfamiliar feeling twisting in his chest. It wasn’t uncomfortable though, a warmth spreading through him and his heart speeding up in his chest. His Father has once talked to him about this exact moment, how he’d know when he met The One, and his fingers itched to reach out, to touch, to make sure this was real and actually happening. He resisted, not wanting to scare his Love off, not when they’ve finally had the chance to come together. 

“Virgil Storm.” Saying his name was enough to send warmth creeping down his spine and his mind quickly went over everything that he knew about him. Kind of a loner, less than a handful of friends but fiercely protective of the ones he had. Incredibly stubborn with a love of wearing skirts, while also being incredibly talented in regards to his art. Logan had seen a few of his pieces and he remembered now being impressed. How had he been so fortunate, so blessed, to have his soulmate be someone so interesting and wonderful? He was rather looking forward to learning every little detail he could about him. “I suppose you’re going to argue regardless of what I say then?”

Virgil just raised an eyebrow, grabbing a chair and pulling it over in lieu of an answer. Logan hummed softly, feeling rather pleased that Virgil wasn’t going to fight him. He didn’t want him to go, now that he Knows, and his mind was racing with all the different questions he had, things he wanted, needed to know about him. But he just had to remind himself to be patient. They had the rest of their lives to get to know each other after all. He couldn’t wait to tell his Father when he got home.

---

Logan felt like he was walking on air by the time he got home that night, not having left the building until the sun had started to set, too caught up in spending time with Virgil. Today had been absolutely wonderful, one of his best days he’s ever had at school, and being around Virgil had been the reason why. He was so interesting to talk to, when they could, and he would gladly and willingly sit for hours and listen to him talk if he could. It had been thrilling to learn that they had a lot in common, and every little detail he learned set his heart soaring. 

He set his bag in the kitchen before making his way upstairs, his excitement in sharing the good news with his Father unable to be contained. He paused outside his Father’s study, pressing his ear to the door and hearing the sound of his Mother’s soap operas playing. That meant they were spending time together and Father may not like the interruption, but this was for a good cause!

So he took a deep breath and squared his shoulders, knocking firmly on the door. He opened it quietly and stepped inside when his father called out, and he didn’t venture too far into the room. He could see his parents sat on the little couch in the room, his Mother’s attention the tv on the wall while his Father gently brushed her hair. He was so loving and attentive to her, and Logan couldn’t wait to do the same for Virgil. 

“Pardon my intrusion Father, but I have some good news I wished to share.” He waited until he had his Father’s attention before continuing. “I met someone… incredible today. Unlike anyone I’ve ever met. I’m in love.”

Those words had his Father turning to face him fully, an intrigued sparkle in his eyes. “Oh you did? Oh Logan, I’m so happy for you. What’s their name?”

“Virgil. Virgil Storm.” Logan breathed the name out with reverence, adoration clear in his tone. “I can’t wait for you to meet him.”

“To be able to capture your heart, he must be incredible. I look forward to meeting him one day, when he’s ready.” 

Logan nodded early, moving to take a step back now that the news has been shared. He didn’t want to overstay his welcome, not while his parents were together, but he paused when Father beckoned him over. 

“Come say goodnight to your mother before you go.” 

Logan nodded, stepping over to her and leaning down to press a gentle kiss to the top of her head. “Goodnight Mother. It was lovely seeing you.” He didn’t get an answer, and he wasn’t expecting one. Her attention was fickle, and hard to obtain at all when her shows were on. He gave his Father a little nod before leaving the room, a spring in his step and heart feeling full. 

He made his way down to the kitchen to start on dinner for himself, pulling out his phone to look at the photos that he had snuck of Virgil throughout the day. How had he gotten so lucky? His future was looking bright and as long as he had his love by his side, nothing could possibly bring him down. Nothing was going to stand in the way of their happiness together. He won’t allow it.

[nabsthevulture]

Do you have any tips for cleaning teeth? For some reason my teeth always end up looking really dark and gross even after they dry out :(

Teeth can be really annoying sometimes tbh, it's just how they like being lol

For a general rule of thumb, during cleaning I always remove whatever teeth are willing to come out. Sometimes, they dont all let go at one and will gradually loosen as the cleaning process goes. If a tooth doesnt want to come out, though, I leave it in. If it wont come out when the bone is wet and a little more forgiving, it will NOT want to go back in when its dry.

But just like bones, teeth need to be degreased and whitened(to your liking). Whatever loose teeth I have will be tied up in a pantyhose and tied to the skull as it goes through degreasing and whitening.

Teeth that remain in the skull can cause a headache because it's hard to properly clean out the socket (and any grease/extra viscera) from inside of it. In my experience, teeth also whiten a bit differently than bone does. I dont personally have any recommendations for that other than making sure you clear out the inside of the jaw (I work a pipe cleaner through the foramen under some hot water and with some good dish soap), and try to gently work the tooth loose in the socket so cleaning solutions can get into the socket.

Teeth have!!!! Issues, to put it frankly. Sometimes they're a dream, sometimes they're a nightmare. But, for a good 'bullet list' type thing

-Collect whatever teeth you can willingly get to come out of the skull

-Make sure they degrease properly. It's hard to see if they're greasy when wet, so let them dry to determine.

-Whiten with peroxide, keep an eye on them because teeth will either whiten in a varying amount of time

-For teeth stuck in the skull, try to clear out as much gunk surrounding the sockets as you can

-Also for teeth stuck in the skull, see if you can work it loose within the socket so water/peroxide/degreasing agents can get inside better

-Hot water and good soap go a long way!

If theres any other questions you've got please let me know!

[centaurianthropology]

The Magnus Archives ‘Sculptor’s Tool’ (S04E06) Analysis

What a … lovely episode for Valentine’s Day.  You can always count on this podcast to bring the horrific weirdness right when we need it the most.  Come on in to hear what I have to say about ‘Sculptor’s Tool’.

The statement itself was fantastic.  The Spiral statements are always ones that lend themselves to having Jonny’s imagination run wild, and this was no exception.  I also appreciate that it seems to be a story of a woman who seemed to have been a stay-at-home mother for a university student, whose wife worked, and who got bored.  So she was an avid goer to adult education classes.  It was again nice to see how TMA quietly handles LGBTQ representation. I especially appreciate having representation of older individuals, because the LGBT elderly tend to be altogether invisible, and often forced back into the closet in order to get care.

But that’s me getting on my soap box.  Suffice to say, having a middle-aged-to-older queer woman as the statement giver was quite lovely.  

It was also fun to have a statement that kept me guessing for a long time as to which power was in play. Sculpting and art initially struck me as something for the Stranger, but the twisting shapes and the looping almost-fish and the manipulation of perception eventually took me down the Spiral’s route. It all seemed far too much like Father Burrough’s experience, and though Gabriel isn’t Michael, they seemed akin.

And then, of course, Michael did show up.  Well, not Michael, but the Distortion.  Michael wasn’t yet Michael, at this point, or he actually was Michael and not ‘Michael’. Yay Spiral confusion.  Gabriel, if I have to guess, was another avatar like the Distortion, and his sculpting the door may well have been a part of the Spiral’s ritual.  

His relocation to Sannikovland definitely seems to be evidence for that.  If he had gone there to assist the Spiral in the ritual, he may well have been there to help create the structure in which the ritual was to be performed.  It would seem a good job for a Sculptor.

Or a Worker in Clay, as Michael would go on to call him.

And it sounds like whatever was occupying Gabriel was also starting to work its way into Deborah. Both from the way that Jon sounded less and less cogent as he read the statement, and the revelations of what really happed to Mary, her fellow student, I have a genuine fear that the others in the class were always ancillary, and that she and Gabriel were locked together in this dance the whole time.

It makes me wonder if there’s a new Sculptor, now that Gabriel’s dead, and if he  even predicted the need to have a backup.

Back in the Archives, hearing Jon speculate about how he still finds what Gertrude did to Michael to be sad was relieving.  No doubt he’s looking back on his own failures to save Tim and Daisy and wondering if it makes things better or worse that he didn’t mean for either of them to die.

For my part, I do think it’s better.  It was Tim’s choice to die.  He got to dictate when and how.  He got to save the world willingly, rather than as a frightened and confused pawn like Michael.  It gave Tim back the agency that Michael was denied.

And his concern for the others continues.  I find it interesting that Melanie refuses to see Jon, but will still see Basira, when she was the one to insist that Melanie not be told before the procedure.  Jon’s quite accepting of this, and likely understands that they’ve been through a lot together.  Perhaps Melanie is more willing to forgive Basira than him after all that.  Or perhaps she simply sees Basira as less of a threat.

And then, of course, there was the end, where we get a little more context about Martin.  As some people suspected, he’s made a deal with Peter Lukas to keep the others safe, although what that might be is … questionable.

Peter talked about striking a balance, and I wonder if he’s not trying to make Martin some sort of hybrid between the Beholding and the Lonely to stop something.  It’s unclear what, as Peter talked about the Watcher’s Crown as though that wasn’t the real concern.  It was just Elias’ side project that distracted him from a bigger problem.

It also somehow involves Adelard Dekker, which makes me wonder if they aren’t trying to stop the rise of some new power.  That is, of course, if Peter’s being honest about there being a real threat, and this isn’t just an attempt to convert Martin from the Beholding to the Lonely.

That does seem a distinct possibility, given that he seems convinced that their plan requires Martin’s isolation to work.  I wonder how much of that is getting him enmeshed in the Lonely, and how much of it is keeping him from talking to Jon.  It’s likely both, as Martin clearly wants to tell Jon what’s happening. Peter’s attempted manipulation of Martin to convince him Jon wouldn’t listen is particularly galling, knowing that, in Jon’s current state, he probably would listen.

It’s especially ominous, considering that Peter has told him that after whatever it is they do, Martin won’t want to tell Jon anything.  This implies that, if Martin does commit to this, Martin will become enough of the Lonely’s creature that all regard for Jon will evaporate.  He’ll ‘save’ everyone (again, questionable) at the cost of any and all connection he might have to him.

And that’s dangerous. Connections are what’s anchoring Jon so well.  His regard for his friends, even in absentia, is making him more human than he has any right to be.  If Peter did sever Martin’s connections to Jon and the others, I really worry that Martin could rapidly fall into being a monster.

But it was encouraging that the Beholding is starting to show interest in Martin in retaliation. Perhaps it wasn’t able to get to him with Jon comatose, but now that he’s back, the tapes are rolling around Martin as well.  It may even be that the Beholding is trying to find a work-around to let them communicate. After all, with Jon’s powers growing, how long will it be until he simply KNOWS what he hears on the tapes?

And it’s also encouraging that Martin isn’t happily playing along.  Whatever’s happening, he thinks it’s necessary, but he also hates it. And he doesn’t trust Peter any more than he trusted Elias.  He wants to work with Jon, and only started working with Peter because Peter convinced him Jon would never wake up.

With the tapes rolling and the Beholding possibly pushing back against the Lonely’s hold on one of its longer-serving archivists, I think that there will be more to this conflict than Martin simply playing along to his peril.  Whatever bargain was made, and whatever threat looms, I have the feeling that Jon will get himself tangled in it.  After all, if the last season proved anything, it’s that if there’s trouble, Jonathan Sims will find it and land face-first in it.

[scrapyardboyfriends]

That poor poor bloke playing Aarons new potentional love interest. Also I really can´t see how they can realisticly (in soap terms of course) write him out if he doesnt die or ends up in prison. Not even the going on the run would work, because as you pointed out, after the 8 hour sex session, Aaron would leave with him. They wont break up and Robert would NEVER leave Aaron willingly. This is going to be a mess.

yeah...i really don’t know how they’re going to do this. 

but at the same time, I don’t think I can cope with them killing him off.