Or Something Similar

anonymous asked:

Hi!! I know requests are closed and that this might not happen for awhile but I got the idea and want to send it to you because you're honestly an amazing writer!! Could you do one where y/n goes into labor and is in the hospital and is having contractions and is in a lot of pain and is just squeezing Harry's hand and yell at him but he knows it's jus the pain and once the baby's out she's upset that she said those things to him

So I kindaaa did a little something similar to this at one point, so this focuses much more on the after of it all. Hope that’s ok! This is a double-dipper, too, meaning: it’s just Harry as a dad, but those of you who read Snowbound should be reading it as Dad Harold. You’ll see where it is in the timeline as you read on. ;)

Reminder: requests are closed! Seriously. At the moment, please no more “I know they’re closed but” messages, cause I really want to work through these and get my inbox number lower. xx

063. Please Don’t Cry

“What’d I do now?”

He’s frazzled, and his hair is in a bun, and he doesn’t think it’s been washed in… how long? 

How long has he even been here?

Five small fingers are peeking out of the fold of a blanket that swaddles the body and miniature person they belong to. They are wrinkled, and new, and they look long already, even with the baby fat that pads them, and you’d just been stroking them and saying how much they look like his.

Then you’d started crying.


You’d cried on and off through the duration of labor as contractions ripped through your body. You’d sworn blindly at Harry and about Harry, and he’d taken every word.

And now your beautiful new baby, hardly an hour old, is cuddled on your chest with tightly closed eyes and long fingers that look just like Daddy’s, and you suddenly had a flooding rush of everything you’d said to him during labor.

“Please don’t cry,” Harry begs you and you peer up at him. His eyes are puffy and drained from a lack of sleep, and he looks, frankly, like he could be blown over if somebody breathed on him the wrong way. “Please?” he tries again, pushing your hair back. He’d helped to wipe you down earlier with hot water, some soap, and a cloth so you’d feel cleaner, but there’s still a damp quality on the very roots of your hair from the sweat of labor. “I’ll do anything.”

Keep reading

i’m lookin around online for cheap clothes similar to yuuri’s but if anyone’s got old tracksuits and/or underarmour in men’s small or women’s medium that they’d be willing to donate for my yuuri cosplay i’m not complaining *wink wink*

anonymous asked:

Hey Clockie. Catching up to Summer of Steven here and when I got to Greg the Babysitter, I found Rose's speech about humanity very interesting. For one, most people might not pick this up but her logic that basically boils down to "gems can't change but humans can" isn't exactly true. Just look at characters like Lapis or Peridot or the remaining Crystal Gems. They've grown and matured a lot, even without physical help. So what do you think? Was Rose more talking about HERSELF?

I’ve mentioned something similar to this in one of my posts talking about the Rose Diamond theory, but I’m unable to find it at present, so I’m revisiting the content here.

Yes, it seems like Rose is exactly talking about herself. Because really, her words- Gems are born knowing exactly what they are, and stay that way their entire life- doesn’t fit any Crystal Gem we know of, or even most of the Homeworld Gems.

  • Pearl utterly redefines herself as a soldier and engineer. Overwhelmingly, she conquers her internalized sense of inferiority or reliance on others, only repeating those things when she’s at her absolute worst.
  • Garnet is living as an entirely different being from who Ruby and Sapphire were expected to be.
  • Amethyst is only just now beginning to contextualize what have before been vague feelings of “why is my hole so much smaller than all the other ones here?” She has no sense of “being a quartz” or what that means until Peridot starts to tell her about it. And she’s already quite unique compared to any Homeworld quartz for her relationship with human culture. 
  • Bismuth went from an architect to a weaponsmith and a skilled fighter in her own right. A good enough weaponsmith that if Rose hadn’t hid her and the Breaking Point she could have easily revolutionized combat- not necessarily for the better, but this still speaks to her capabilities as an engineer.
  • Jasper, if anything is someone who struggles terrifically to try and define herself by what others have in the past told her that she was and that she should be. She does not have an inherent knowledge of who she is, just an idealized image that she can never actually live up to.

But Rose’s commentary that Gems always know who they are, and they can’t change, suggests to me that Rose tried, very hard, to change, to be something else, and in her eyes? She failed. This puts some context on the idea that Rose does not see herself as a good person, as suggested in We Need To Talk where her response to Greg saying he hardly knows her is “That’s a good thing.”

Now logically, we don’t know Rose’s backstory prior to the war. This is in fact something very conspicuous about her- she was clearly on Homeworld before the war with the way she talks about it and sees it as home, but Bismuth said Rose was “made right here in the dirt like any other quartz”, suggesting that publicly, people think Rose was born on Earth. And Rose is definitely not any other quartz. So whatever Rose’s history? She’s hiding it.

This is where I’m going to insert the Rose Diamond theory, but I think that the above applies regardless.

Keep reading

lifeasbritney  asked:

Can you post some daddy Jamie? Book 3 and on

Hi! I’ve posted several of my favorites already, so I decided to do something similar to my Mother Claire post and I give you Da Jamie with all the “kids”. Enjoy!

Da Jamie


“It’s true, though— what I said. You can’t truly lose a child. Do you— do you remember Faith?”

My voice trembled slightly as I asked it; we had not spoken in years of our first daughter, stillborn in France.

His arm curled around me, pulling me against him.

“Of course I do,” he said softly. “D’ye think I would ever forget?”

“No.” The tears were flowing down my face, but I was not truly weeping; it was no more than the overflow of feeling. “That’s what I mean. I never told you— when we were in Paris, to see Jared— I went to the Hôpital des Anges; I saw her grave there. I— I brought her a pink tulip.”

He was quiet for a moment.

“I took her violets,” he said, so softly I almost didn’t hear him.

I was quite still for a moment, tears forgotten.

“You didn’t tell me.”

“Neither did you.” His fingers traced the bumps of my spine, brushing softly up and down the line of my back.

“I was afraid you’d feel …” My voice trailed off. I had been afraid he would feel guilty, worry that I blamed him— I once had— for the loss. We were newly reunited, then; I had no wish to jeopardize the tender link between us.

“So was I.”

“I’m sorry that you never saw her,” I said at last, and felt him sigh. He turned toward me and put his arms around me, his lips brushing my forehead.

“It doesna matter, does it? Aye, it’s true, what ye say, Sassenach. She was— and we will have her, always. And Brianna. If— when she goes— she will still be with us.”

“Yes. It doesn’t matter what happens; no matter where a child goes— how far or how long. Even if it’s forever. You never lose them. You can’t.”


As the day wore on, Jamie seemed composed as usual, but I noticed that the stiff fingers fluttered against his thigh more and more often, the only outward sign of worry. And worried he was. Fergus had been with him since the day twenty years before, when Jamie had found him in a Paris brothel, and hired him to steal Charles Stuart’s letters.

More than that; Fergus had lived at Lallybroch since before Young Ian was born. The boy had been a younger brother to Fergus, and Jamie the closest thing to a father that Fergus had ever known. I could not imagine any business so urgent that it would have kept him from Jamie’s side. Neither could Jamie, and his fingers beat a silent tattoo on the wood of the rail.

…I whirled to look, and saw what had caused him to break off. Fergus was on deck, reaching up to help down a girl perched awkwardly above him on the railing, her long blond hair whipping in the wind. Laoghaire’s daughter— Marsali MacKimmie.

Before I could speak, Jamie was past me and striding toward the pair.

“What in the name of holy God d’ye mean by this, ye wee coofs?” he was demanding, by the time I made my way into earshot through the obstacle course of lines and seamen. He loomed menacingly over the pair, a foot taller than either of them.

“We are married,” Fergus said, bravely moving in front of Marsali. He looked both scared and excited, his face pale beneath the shock of black hair.

“Married!” Jamie’s hands clenched at his sides, and Fergus took an involuntary step backward, nearly treading on Marsali’s toes. “What d’ye mean, ‘married’?”

I assumed this was a rhetorical question, but it wasn’t; Jamie’s appreciation of the situation had, as usual, outstripped mine by yards and seized at once upon the salient point.

“Have ye bedded her?” he demanded bluntly. Standing behind him, I couldn’t see his face, but I knew what it must look like, if only because I could see the effect of his expression on Fergus. The Frenchman turned a couple of shades paler and licked his lips.

“Er … no, milord,” he said, just as Marsali, eyes blazing, thrust her chin up and said defiantly, “Yes, he has!”

Jamie glanced briefly back and forth between the two of them, snorted loudly, and turned away.


22 July— My grandson has a rash, though my wife declares it of no moment. The white sow has broken through her pen again and escaped into the forest. I am in two minds whether I shall pursue her or only express sympathy for the unfortunate predator that first encounters her. Her temper is similar to that of my daughter at the moment, the latter having slept little these past few nights …

Brianna leaned forward, frowning at the page.

… in consequence of the infant’s screaming, which my wife says is the colic and will pass. I trust she is right. Meanwhile, I have settled Brianna and the child in the old cabin, which is some relief to us in the house, if not to my poor daughter. The white sow ate four of her last litter before I could prevent her.

“Why, you bloody bastard!” she said. She was familiar with the white sow in question, and not flattered by the comparison.


Ian’s eyes stung and his throat closed. But it was dark; it didn’t matter.

He cleared his throat and held out one of the tiny dishes. “Will ye help me, Uncle Jamie?”

“Oh? Aye, surely. How d’ye want it?”

“Red across my forehead— I can do that bit. But black from the wee dots to the chin.” He drew a finger across the line of tattooed dots that curved under his cheekbones. “Black’s for strength, aye? It declares ye’re a warrior. And yellow means ye’re no afraid to die.”

“Och, aye. Are ye wantin’ the yellow today?”

“No.” He let the smile show in his voice, and Jamie laughed.

“Mmphm.” Jamie dabbed with the rabbit-foot brush, then spread the color evenly with his thumb. Ian closed his eyes, feeling strength come into him with the touch.

“Do ye usually do this alone, Ian? Seems hard, save ye’ve a looking glass.”

“Mostly. Or sometimes we’d do it together, and a clan brother would paint ye. If it’s an important thing— a big raid, say, or going to make war on someone— then the medicine man would paint us, and sing.” “

Tell me ye dinna want me to sing, Ian,” his uncle murmured. “I mean, I’d try, but …”

“I’ll do without, thanks.”

Black for the lower face, red on the forehead, and a band of the malachite green following the line of his tattoos, from ear to ear, across the bridge of his nose.

Ian peered at the small dishes of pigment; it was easy to spot the white, and he pointed to it.

“Can ye maybe draw a wee arrow, Uncle? Across my forehead.” He drew a finger from left to right, showing where.

“I can, aye.” Jamie’s head was bent over the paint dishes, hand hovering. “Did ye not tell me once the white is for peace, though?”

“Aye, should ye be going to parley or trade, ye use a good deal of white. But it’s for the mourning, too— so if ye go to avenge someone, ye’d maybe wear white.”

Jamie’s head came up at that, staring at him.

“This one’s no for vengeance,” Ian said. “It’s for Flying Arrow. The dead man whose place I took, when I was adopted.” He spoke as casually as he could, but he felt his uncle tighten and look down. Neither one of them was ever going to forget that day of parting, when he’d gone to the Kahnyen’kehaka, and both of them had thought it was forever. He leaned over and put a hand on Jamie’s arm.

“That day, ye said to me, ‘Cuimhnich,’ Uncle Jamie. And I did.” Remember.

“So did I, Ian,” Jamie said softly, and drew the arrow on his forehead, his touch like a priest’s on Ash Wednesday, marking Ian with the sign of the cross. “So did we all. Is that it?”

Ian touched the green stripe gingerly, to be sure it was dry enough.


“Ye need fat meat. You’re verra thin, a muirninn,” Jamie said softly, behind me. “Too thin, for a woman breeding.”

I turned round, swearing silently to myself once more. I’d thought so, but had hoped I was wrong. Three babies in four years! And a one-handed husband, who couldn’t manage the man’s work of a homestead and wouldn’t do the “women’s work” of baby-minding and mash-brewing that he could handle.

Marsali made a small sound, half-snort, half-sob.

“How did you know? I havena even told Fergus yet.”

“Ye should— though he kens it already.”

“He told you?”

“No— but I didna think it only the indigestion that troubled him, whilst we were hunting. Now I see ye, I ken what it is that’s weighin’ on him.”


They went to the warehouse where Fraser worked, down by the river. Fraser left William outside to keep watch, unlocked a man door at the side, and slid through it with no sound, reappearing a few minutes later dressed in rough breeches and a shirt that didn’t fit him, carrying a small burlap bag and two large black kerchiefs. He handed one of these to William and, folding the other diagonally, tied it round his face, covering nose and mouth.

“Is this truly necessary?” William tied on his own kerchief but felt slightly ridiculous, as though dressing up for some bizarre pantomime.

“Ye can go without if ye like,” Fraser advised him, taking a knitted wool cap out of the bag, tucking his hair up under it, and then pulling it down over his eyebrows. “I canna risk being recognized.”

“If you think the risk too great—” William began, an edge in his voice, but Fraser stopped him, gripping his arm.

“Ye’ve a claim to my help,” he said, voice low and brusque. “For any venture ye deem worthy. But I’ve a family who have a claim to my protection. I canna leave them to starve if I’m taken.”

William had no chance to reply to this; Fraser had locked the door and was already walking off, beckoning impatiently. He did think about it, though, following the Scot through the mist that rose knee-high in the streets. It had stopped raining; that was one thing in their favor.

“For any venture ye deem worthy.” Not a word about Jane’s being a whore or about her being a confessed murderess. Perhaps it was that Fraser himself was a criminal and felt some sympathy on that account.

Or maybe it’s just that he’s willing to take my word that I have to do it. And willing to take the devil of a risk to help me.

anonymous asked:

Is Natasha over 70 due to taking something similar to the super solider serum? I've read some comics that mention it but some that don't. Is it canon or not?

Natasha isn’t a super soldier but she doesn’t age normally. This isn’t uncanon: her 616 relationship with Winter Soldier relies on a shared Cold War past that has been referenced as recently as last week’s issue of Thunderbolts.

But it is something that comics will only mention if they want to. Some writers are really interested in Natasha as a relic of a dead era, or a metaphor for the Russian century. Others want to tell more immediate, contemporary stories without the complication of “lol surprise i’m actually 80.″ And both of these storytypes kind of co-exist without acknowledging the other.

As a reader, you learn to not to think about timelines.

  • me as a writer:(god is this plot too cliche?? how many times have i used his name omg,, this sounds so similar to something i just found even though ive been writing it for a week......)
  • me as a reader:*covers myself in fics with cheesy plots and corny lines with romantic sappiness* thank god

smashega said:
SenshiStock on DeviantArt is pretty good

senshistock is one of my go-to source for pose references, i’m so happy they exist. but they’re more like, reference images for poses you already have in mind, rather than something similar to a figure drawing class

rtgrl said:

this site’s pretty good but like i said the body type variety is really lacking on the female models

glaceleau said:
Croquis Cafe has great variety of models, but no random function. I’d love to find a site like that too.

i think this will help! no random function, but still, they have a good selection of photos and videos to use for figure drawing refs

Surveillance (open; Shadowman)

Shadow had left his home base to explore the nearby town. The ninja had been slowly working his surveillance closer and closer to the village and today was the day to explore the inner workings.
He had observed the usual garb they wore and created something similar that would make him almost indistinguishable from the rest.

anonymous asked:

I've noticed I'm really protective over what I own, like things that belong to me or things that I'm somehow related to or really passionate about. I barely have any taurus influences at all in my chart, but isn't this a taurus behaviour?

Not necessarily, Taurus are more inclined to acquire rather than protect. It sounds like you have Pluto in the 2nd house or something similar

anonymous asked:

So I have a pretty depressing theory/prediction, I have a feeling that in Chapter 5, we'll have something similar to DR1, in the sense that the characters investigate the murder of someone they've never seen before, the difference is that I don't think it's going to be the corpse of a previously murdered student, but rather, it's going to be the corpse of a surviving character of the previous games, most likely Naegi, though he'd have to be rather old (50+?) for the player to not recognize him.

i don’t even know how to respond to this
this is fucking me up and making me sad
the fact that it’s extremely plausible is making it worse
one of the other admins take over please i c a n ’t

anonymous asked:

Hi. I'd like to have your opinion about Toni. I don't like her character as she seems so predictable. I've read many speculation.She'll have some redemption somewhere sometime maybe she'll be Sam's love interest and she'lo die. So boring.

Hi there!

I too think/hope that Toni will undergo a development and change of heart. We have seen glimpses of doubts and weak spots in her armour in these past two episodes and I think it would be way too boring to not build on that and simply keep her the “elitist one” for lack of a better word.

In many ways this season’s set up with the introduction of the BritMoL resembles the set up and introduction of angels and Heaven in the show. There are a lot of similarities that Toni and Cas in that regard share. Cas too started out as just following orders, but at some point showing and expressing doubts to in the end side with the Winchesters. I see something similar in store with Toni. Obviously she seems to not like getting her hands dirty a whole lot and also in general doesn’t seem to be a huge fan of Mr Ketch - though she certainly is radical enough to let him do his thing.

It all to me feels very reminiscent of Castiel asking on Uriel’s behalf Dean to torture and face Alistair. And I could actually imagine, if the show does it well, to parallel Mr Ketch and Alistair more and with that possibly also use the time to tell us more about Deans time in Hell.

Aside from that and in relation to your question about Toni becoming a love interest for Sam - I think this episode and Toni invading and manipulating Sam’s mind/dreams (compares well to angels invade people’s minds in their sleep) and that of course without consent leaves a very bad aftertaste in relation to the subject matter of the scenes Toni evoked in Sam’s head as it featured both of them in bed. So the noncon aspect to it all couldn’t possibly get any creepier if you ask me.

That said, I would not be surprised if the show used this bit as “foreshadowing” for Toni and Sam becoming something more down the line - in a way it resembled Sam’s dream of Bella a little bit.

I don’t know if they’ll kill off Toni. With the pattern of SPN it would not be surprising if they did and they way Toni said goodbye to her kid - a complete parallel to the pilot with Mary and Sam as well as to 8x12 “As Time Goes By” when Henry says good bye to John (see here) - does not bode well for her fate either. Will be interesting if they’ll build on more parallels between Toni as a mom and Mary as a mom. Who knows, maybe that will get through to her and make her reconsider her life and actions when Mary asks her if she would want this life for her children…

anonymous asked:

Hi Hana!!! 😊😊😊 read this fic bout Kookie being prince of the underworld and took y/n with him to be his wife but y/n is being difficult and I think it's nice but I can't find it anymore. It's like Captive or Captured or something similar I dunno maybe you do? Thanks ❤❤❤❤❤

Omg it sound like an amazing fic 😮😮😮 I don’t know either thoo and I’m so sorry 😣😣😣 I don’t have time to read fics anymore ,cause I can’t even write my own 😂😂 But I want to ask my followers if y'all have a link. Please share it with us if you ever find it guys !! WE NEED THE LINK TO THIS FIC 💕💕💕

Originally posted by jeonheart

In high school did anybody have any classes where you had speaking exams? Especially in any language classes? I remember being in French and Italian classes and having to speak for a final grade in said language and how terrifying that was for me. I also had to do something similar in vocal class in 9th grade and I thought I was going to faint… anybody else ever go through that?

anonymous asked:

Do you think the Tropical chart is like the birthed personality along with Sidereal? do you think Tropical and sidereal is our personality of this life time but there just different sides to us, like Tropical is our earthly nature and Sidereal is our spiritual nature of this lifetime?

Yea I think something similar, I talked about this yesterday / have talked about my thoughts on sidereal a lot of you want to check out the sidereal tag!

rachelling  asked:

Hey! I don't know if you identify fabrics, but I'm trying to find the fabric for Eleven's hospital gown (Stranger Things) and have looked everywhere I can think of to identify what print it cold be (or something similar). Please help if you can!

Apparently this is a real hospital gown! Somebody blogged about their ugly gown here:


Unfortunately, I couldn’t find the company that produces it. (I mean, I found a picture of it on Khurshid textiles but could find no way to buy). Since it is a real hospital gown the fabric is probably made just for hospital stuff (I could be wrong tho). This pattern is apparently a common pattern for hospital gowns.

After no luck in locating just the fabric I turned instead to try and find the gown itself.  I found several places where you could buy it. Several stores just called it a snowflake pattern.

The first link sells them individually but you have no guarantee of getting the one you want as far as I can tell.


The next link is amazon! They sell it there. As far as I can tell this is the correct pattern.  Sold in packs of 4 though. 


The brand appears to be  Nobles Health Care Products.

Another pack of 4 on Ebay, but appears to be more expensive


Not really seeing fabric with similar patterns tho…..If you have a favorite store, online or off, try searching the quilting fabric section. Quilting fabric is where you’ll find the patterns. If you’re online you can do a color search so that you’re not going through a million pages.

I found this one, which is less of a regular pattern like the gown is, but could be a believable gown.


and this one 


TBH tho, you would spend just as much making one from scratch using quilting fabric (unless you have coupons!) than if you just bought a 4 pack.

A few more fabrics to check out:



Hope that you find something that works!

Lady BTyrant