labour time

So my cousin doesn’t know English very well and for some reason she resists to learning it, but I want to show her Dan and Phil’s Undertale let’s play, so the solution I came up with seems pretty simple - let’s make Polish subtitles on youtube so she can watch it and understand!

Shit, I didn’t expect it to be so labour-intensive and time-consuming. I’m at it for like three or four hours and I’ve only done 18 minutes of the episode out of a whole hour

That “Immigrants don’t steal your jobs, they get jobs while you’re sitting around thinking you’re too good for them!” thing annoys me.

Because that’s - not what’s really going on?

What it actually is is “Immigrants are victims of a system set up to take advantage of them, in which employers and businesses use the fact that immigrants are more often than not in difficult, dangerous positions to strong-arm them into working long hours in often unhygienic or dangerous jobs for less than minimum wage.

“And the organisations that do that are often either the same as or in bed with the organisations that push the ‘Immigrants steal your jobs / immigrants want to push their values on the entire country / immigrants don’t deserve benefits’ narrative, because it allows them to not only socially isolate immigrants and make them more susceptible to being taken advantage of, but also to do things like refuse immigrants benefits that would allow them to viably consider not working for less than minimum wage in sub-par conditions, and to frame any attempt by immigrants to politically organise themselves and push for fair treatment as them being dangerously subversive.

“While the ‘immigrants steal your jobs’ thing is bullshit, it’s calculated bullshit pushed by politicians and businesses at a working class population in conjunction with an equally calculated strategy of enacting laws that endanger that population’s livelihoods and labour rights, at a time when the shenanigans of politicians and businesses have caused an employment crisis and a recession, because it’s easy to turn people who are terrified into bigots, and it’s politically advantageous to do so.”

I mean, I realise that that’s less pithy.

But it also doesn’t glorify the horrible conditions and sub-par wages that immigrants are subjected to, so there’s that.

[ image description: A screen shot of a post that reads “Don’t cross oceans for people who wouldn’t cross a puddle for you.” Someone has crossed this out with a big grey X and underneath added “No, do it. Do cross oceans for people. Love people, all people. No conditions attached, no wondering whether or not they’re worthy. Cross oceans, climb mountains. Life and love isn’t about what you gain, it’s about what you give.” End of descripton ]

I hate this post, I hate it so much. And let me tell you why.

At first it seems like a pretty good post, right? You should love people and do things for them because you want to or because it’s nice, or just because you love them, not because you expect something in return. Yeah. We learn that as kids. But listen. Listen to me. It is not that simple. Yes you should do nice things for people. Carry in your grandmother’s grocerys even if she forgets to say thank you. Sure. But you should never, never, pour yourself into someone who does not give back to you.

Doing everything for someone who gives you nothing in return is not love.

A friend of mine worded it really well “The point of the original post was to emphasise that your own mental/physical health is more important than someone’s selfish needs.” It’s not romantic to run yourself into the ground for someone who can’t even be bothered to care about you. And not only is it not romantic, it’s unhealthy.

I have, on more than one occasion, “crossed oceans” for people who I do believe loved me, but who didn’t even come close to crossing them for me. And do you know what I got out of that? The first one I lost 10 pounds because I was so miserable I could barely eat and I was throwing up what I did eat. And I was still doing whatever I could to be with them, and make them happy, even though they didn’t seem to be willing to put any work in themself. Why bother, I was always there. The second one I ran my own mental health so thin that that literally could not do anything for him, all I could do is sit in the bathtub and think about how I coudln’t feel anything. But I still refused to turn my phone off and ignore his messages. I still made myself avaible to him because he “needed me.”

There was nothing romantic about either of those situations (note: only one was a romantic relationship but the idea of giving and giving and giving when you’re gettin nothing back is romanticized whether it’s in a romantic or platonic relationship.) There was nothing beautiful or selfless about it. It was miserable. I was miserable. I can remember one of my friends telling me he missed me because all I could talk about was the person I had allowed to become my whole life.

And in the end, both of them stopped talking to me.

Don’t believe anyone when they say the second part of that post. It’s bullshit and I’m really tired of seeing it romanticized. It tells people (especailly young girls) that this is an okay way for a relationship to be, that this is what they should be doing. 

There is nothing selfish about demanding that your emotional labour be reciprocated. That’s what makes a relationship (romantic, platonic, or otherwise) healthy. That’s what love is. Both people giving. Both people supportin each other. Not one person giving until they have nothing left for themself. 

An open letter to recast owners

I’ve been debating with myself wether or not to post this because I’ve been away from the hobby and this ‘discourse’ for some time doing my own thing and generally trying to get my shit together but then someone had the bright idea of posting that delightful list and attempting to brand myself and some 700 people as bullies and stalkers. Not cool bro, not cool at all.

So this is my open letter to the recast owning community, particularly those like the admins of the above blog. I always welcome discourse, if you want to discuss any of this or any of my points then I more than welcome you to my inbox, it’s always open.

Gretings fellow doll lover,
The thing I really, really want to emphasis above all else is that we get it. We really do.
Who wouldn’t want something they’ve been wanting forever and a day for cheaper than usual? It’s only natural and we’re a generation (or two) of people who’ve been brought up to search for a bargain every chance we can. So we understand the temptation. But the issue of recasts vs supporting artists goes much deeper than just the price tag and that seems to be where the disconnect is, at least from what I’ve observed the last few years.

Allow me to make an analogy;
Imagine, if you will, that you’ve got yourself a job cleaning floors, be it for a bit of money on the side or your sole source of income.
You’ve got yourself all set up, you’ve bought the brooms, the dustpan, the garbage can and bags. Not to mention you bought all those cleaning chemicals which weren’t cheap at all. So you’ve come up with how much you charge your clients based on the cost of your equipment and you manage to squeeze in a little on top to cover your labour and time. You come up with what you consider a very fair price considering the time, effort and cost involved in your work. Sounds fair right?
Now imagine you’re cleaning a floor, you’ve done a good job, you could eat off that floor. Some guy comes along, tells you what a good job you’ve done and even picks up a piece of rubbish for you but the second your boss appears to pay you what you’re owed this other guy, we’ll call him Mr R quickly shows him the garbage can, telling your boss at length what a wonderful job has been done and he’ll only charge half of what you where asking for.
Oh! Well your boss loves that idea, a perfect floor for half the price! Who wouldn’t jump on that deal! So MR R leaves with the money, having done a tiny amount of work compared to you. You’re left out of pocket and with nothing to show for all that time and effort your poured into your work.
How would that make you feel? Maybe you could let it slide if it happened just once but imagine that Mr R keeps coming back, he’s got the money now to follow you to your next job and the one after that and so on after all.

I’m hoping it’s obvious where I’m going with this… on a simplified level that’s exactly what recasters do. They make money off the hard work, skill and all that time an artist pours into making dolls and deny those same artists potential sales by poaching customers with an artists own work. I don’t know about you but I’d find that so incredibly beyond galling if it were me in the artists shoes. And if your work is constantly being sold out from under you, why bother to continue?

That is the crux of why recasts are so harmful to the BJD world. Creating a BJD from scratch takes skill (something which might have entailed formal education and the debts that go with it), a hell of a lot of time and development and a lot of money sunk into it along the way for equipment and materials. Why should anyone sink all that into making dolls when someone else is going to come along, make the minimum amount of effort and make money off that artists hard work?
And if artists decide they’ve had enough and it’s just not worth their time to make dolls anymore then we ALL loose out. Even recast owners. Because what’s there going to be to recast if dolls aren’t being made in the first place?

There’s been many good posts made about the costs of producing dolls and I encourage and implore you to go look for them. Do some research on what’s involved in producing the dolls we all enjoy and you’ll come away informed and hopefully with a good sense of what it’s like for the artists who’s work we all covet.

So much of the narrative being used by blogs like bjdrecastpositive and the people behind them relies upon is attempting to paint anyone who disagrees with them as bullies and stalkers.  I can’t speak for all 700 people singled out on that list they complied but I know that I’ve never stalked anyone in my life (who even has the time or energy for that?) and I certainly don’t bully anyone. Being vocal and disagreeing with something someone posts publically is not bullying.
And once again I implore you to use your own common sense and take that list and posts like it for what it is; an attempt to shift focus away from the real issues at hand.
There’s some very impressive mental gymnastics going on (which we’ve seen before) comparing recast owners and their side of the 'debate’ to the struggles of the black community or the LGBTQA community among others, not to mention all that intersectionality but and I really must emphasise this as hard as it may be to hear it; recasts owners are not the victims, they are not being persecuted or discriminated against. That isn’t what being disagreed with in a debate is. That isn’t what having your decision to buy a fake doll called into question is.
And a decision is exactly what recast ownership is, with the exception of course of the poor people who get scammed, it is a conscious decision to put luxury wants above all else, regardless of whom it hurts. How ever someone wants to justify it to themselves on no level does deciding to buy a fake doll and having that called into question compare to being persecuted for your skin colour or sexuality. And I honestly cannot believe that’s even something I have to explain. The mind boggles.

Like I said at the beginning. I get it, I really do. None of us are pretending to be perfect or to have never made questionable decisions but the point is that we are all capable of looking back on our decisions, realising it was a mistake and doing the right thing. Be that by changing our ways or by making amends. Even some of the big name doll companies have made such journeys, Dollzone started out as a recast company, they decided to change their ways and they’ve since flourished into what they are today, likewise Fairyland fucked up pretty big by copying the designs for their steampunk weapons a year or two back but they realised they’d messed up and made it right. We are all constantly growing and learning. It’s part of life and learning from our mistakes is a fundamental thing we all share.

All I’m asking with this letter is to encourage recast owners and supporters to simply put themselves in someone else’s shoes, to think about the implications of buying fake dolls and to have a good hard look at their decision to do so. There are so many alternatives, be it layaways or this awesome list of dolls under $300 that @bluekitsune put together. The alternatives are there, you just need to look for them.

10 | Tomorrow




masterlist | ask | prev 

Sweat beaded your forehead as you ran through the sea of people flooding the airport, your breathing was erratic and Jungkook was nowhere to be seen. Your heart hammered angrily against your chest, where was he? There you were, willing to drop your life for him and he didn’t have the decency to even answer the phone the 14 times you’d called.

Close to giving up your eyes wandered the busy scene desperately once more, much to your surprise you saw a tall, broad figure wearing all black holding what looked like to be a Louis Vuitton luggage bag. Your Louis Vuitton luggage bag. That had to be him. You ran up to the man who was speedily walking away, his wide strides almost impossible for you to catch up with.

“Jungkook!” You shouted, earning a stare from a dozen pairs of nosey eyes in the process.

Keep reading


It’s a revolution, not a war;

London, in the early 1900′s. Lady Morgana Pendragon is the highly controversial daughter of the Conservative leader The Rt Hon. Sir Uther Pendragon, MP. It has been widely speculated by the tabloids that the Lady Morgana is secretly funding the suffragettes movement. It would seem where the Lady Morgana would go she would attract attention from her bold fashion reflecting her general demeanour to her choice of “companion” with the young Miss Guinevere Leodegrance, a once servant to the Pendragons, now with the help of the Lady Morgana a sensation in London’s affluent music scene. 

On the other side of the Spectrum the working class are rising in the form of the Labour party, the leader is rumoured to be the opposition’s own wayward son, The Rt Hon. Arthur Pendragon, MP. who gave up his titles after his rebellion. Mister Pendragon is often criticised for the position due to his privileged upbringing, most publicly by a certain reporter by the name of Mister Merlin Emrys. Mister Emrys is The Guardian’s most favoured reporter, whose wish with the help of his undercover colleague Miss Mithian Nemeth it is to expose the Lady Morgana’s affair with Miss Guinevere, in the hope to use the scandal to bring upon an uprising against the Aristocracy for a modern Britain.  

anonymous asked:

37 for Nate and Elena?

its time for some mcfreakin angst

send me a prompt!

37. “Can I kiss you?”

Nate’s still there when she wakes again. He’s curled inwards on the chair, head ducked down low to squint at the paper of his journal in the low light of the fire. The sight makes her neck twinge in sympathy, but it’s a familiar enough position for him while he’s concentrating on something. It gives her a burst of nostalgia that she doesn’t bother to push down.

Her hand reaches out to touch the corner of the page, and he jolts upright when her fingers enter his view. “Oh—hey,” he breathes, face breaking into a smile. He snaps the book closed and gives her a worried look. “How you feeling?”

“Grubby and sore,” she complains. “But I’m fairly certain I won’t die now, so that’s an improvement.”

The resulting expression on his face makes her wish she’d kept the last part to herself, but it’s too late now. “Can I get you anything?” he asks, trying not to look too concerned.

“Water? My mouth feels all fuzzy.”

Nate helps her sit upright to take small sips at the cup he fetches her. It must be late with how dark it is outside, and Tenzin’s home is quiet. The only thing she can hear is the wind outside and her own laboured breathing.

“What time is it?” she asks when she finishes off the glass, and Nate sets it down in the table.

“Two-ish, I think? My watch broke, so I’m just judging by the moon.”

She nods and settles against the headrest of the bed. “And how are you holding up?” Elena gives a pointed look to his hip. His shirt is spotted with red again, but he isn’t nursing his side all that much, which she takes as a good sign.

He shrugs. “Sore enough to make sleep uncomfortable, but I’ll be fine.”

“So that’s why you’re doodling by candlelight.” She waves a hand at the journal in his hand. “What are you drawing?”

His face goes immediately red, visible even in the dim light. “Ah, just uh… just you.”

She raises a brow to cover the fluttering in her chest. “Oh really? Can I see?”

He weighs his options for a moment, considering, then bobs his head. “Sure. It’s not done yet, or anything, just rough sketches.” Nate gets off his chair again and hands his journal to her, muttering a few more excuses for the low quality that she ignores.

He’s drawn her a few times before, when they were sort-of-kind-of-dating. Mostly just idle sketches, hints of her profile curling along the edges of his notes, or the messy bun of her hair. He’d even traced the outline of her body once, prompting her to call him Jack for the next few days, a nickname he thoroughly rebelled against.

This drawing isn’t an idle half-sketch or risqué rendition of her, though. Despite his various complaints about the quality, it’s a highly detailed illustration of her sleeping. Her brow is creased with pain, her hands curling up with the bedsheets, and her right side is covered in bandages. It’s a good sketch—beautiful, really—but it’s a little too accurate for her liking.

“Damn, I really look that bad,” she murmurs. Nate squirmed in his place beside her.

“I didn't—”

“It’s not a critique, Nate,” she assures him, looking away from the page. “It’s really good, actually.”

“Thanks.” He grabs the book back from her and shoves it in his back pocket, safe from prying eyes. “Started it a few days ago, so you’re not—you look a lot better now.”

She grins at him and wipes at her face, which is sweaty and way too warm for her liking. “That’s very generous of you to say.”

“No, really.” He sits down again, but he doesn’t quite look at her. “You do. I was… you looked like you were dead, ‘lena. I kept thinking you’d gone in your sleep, and then you’d breathe and I—” his hands knotted together between the brace of his legs, and his head dipped low. His words came out small, as if confessing his fears gave them some truth. “I wanted to keep you around somehow, in case anything happened.”

She hears a lot of what else he doesn’t say in his quiet whisper. That dead bodies don’t look like living ones, and he’d draw any expression she was wearing, so long as it was a living one. That he needed desperately something more substantial than old, mindless doodles of her, even if it was far more painful. And that he’d been a hell of a lot more afraid of losing her than she could’ve ever guessed from him, especially after how they’d fizzled out and drifted apart.

Her hand ventures away from the bed again, and goes to rest on his clasped fists. Nate looks up at her, uncurling from the ball he’d practically pulled himself into on the chair. “Can I kiss you?” she asks him. This time he does meet her eyes.

His mouth pulls up into a tentative smile. “Why’re you asking me?”

“Because I can’t move,” she explains. “So I need you to come here.”

He laughs at that, the tension draining from his body, and he moves to sit down on the lip of her mattress. She’s still sitting up, so the angle isn’t too awkward. Definitely something she can work with.

Her hand finds the familiar place at the back of his neck and pulls him in close. His arm rests on the bed beside her as he ducks down to press his mouth to hers. It’s a soft contact, barely felt if not for how focused she is on him, and she presses into his lips to pull him closer. She’d almost died forty-eight hours ago, but she isn’t made of glass.

Still, it’s not a great kiss. Her mouth tastes sour and her right side is on fire and Nate smells like he’s a few days late for a shower. She breaks off and pulls his head in to her neck instead, pressing her cheek to his.

“Your mouth does feel fuzzy,” he mumbles into her hair, making her wince as she stifles a laugh.

“And you smell horrible.”

She feels him grin into the shell of her ear. “Still pretty romantic, though.”

Elena suppresses another laugh, and only partially succeeds. “I’m starting to think you’re a masochist.”

He pulls away to grin down at her. “Never complained before.”

“I wouldn’t get very far if I felt your idea of romantic was morally dubious.”

Nate shrugs, still grinning, as if they hadn’t just been talking about her dying a few moments ago. She’s glad to see things haven’t changed too much between them, at least. “That’s what you get for dating a criminal.”

“Well, Mr. Criminal,” she continues with a hard eye-roll. “Can I get another glass of water?”

He ducks down to kiss her once more, quick and gentle, then pushes off from the bed. “Coming right up.”

anonymous asked:

Idk if anyone has asked you this, but how do you think sakura and karin became good friends despite liking the same person? I like how karin and sakura shares a bond but i can never wrap my mind on how.

A while ago, someone had made an absolutely brilliant doujinshi regarding Sakura’s time in labour, and how she and Karin became good friends. It was literally like that person invaded my mind and stole all my thoughts, lol. I agreed completely with it, but unfortunately it was taken down.

Luckily, since the doujinshi was basically a physical manifestation of my own thoughts on the matter, I can recount it perfectly :)

This is MY headcanon for it

(Because that doujinshi basically stole all of my ideas!)

Basically, after Sasuke and Sakura arrived at Karin’s hideout, she was surprised that they had chosen to go to her instead of the local doctors at any of the villages they had visited. Sasuke justified his decision by saying how he knew and trusted Karin, and would rather rely on the help of an ally then a random stranger for a matter as important as this. Karin was a little flustered and taken aback by this, but she quickly regained her composure, and said that in that case, it couldn’t be helped, in a rather tsundere-like manner.

After a while of Sakura resting in a bed, Karin would come and check on her, to ask her a few questions to see how far along she was in the labour process. Eventually, Sakura would interrupt and ask Karin whether or not she still loved Sasuke. Karin would initially deny it and act as though she didn’t know what Sakura was talking about, but Sakura would insist that it was obvious; the way she looked at Sasuke said it all. Sakura would then ask why Karin never confessed to him? Because if it had been her, she wouldn’t have been able to keep it a secret from him for all these years.

Karin would then concede, and in a defiant manner, she would ask why it mattered? Sakura’s feelings were the ones that had gotten through to Sasuke in the end; Sasuke had chosen Sakura, and she could tell that he was happy:

Karin was glad that Sasuke had found someone who loved as him as deeply as Sakura did, but she also revealed that she couldn’t help but feel a little envious. She would have given anything for Sasuke to look and smile at her the way that he does with Sakura. After all, it’s what she had originally wanted:

But Karin would reiterate that nothing can be done about it, Sasuke had made his choice, and Karin felt as though she subsequently had no alternative but to discard her feelings for him.

But Sakura interjects. She tells Karin that the first two times she confessed to Sasuke, whether or not he felt the same way had never been a fear of hers; she just wanted to let him know that he wasn’t alone, and that someone truly loved him. Sakura would then go on to state that just because she was his wife doesn’t mean that Karin automatically became nothing to Sasuke; the fact that he could have chosen any amazing doctor in the world, but he came to seek her aid should have indicated that, but Sakura would continue. She mentions to Karin how it was her who was by Sasuke’s side while he was at his at rock bottom; while he was so engulfed in darkness and hatred that he became unrecognisable, and Sakura reveals to her how grateful she was that Karin looked after Sasuke all that time, stayed by his side even though it pained her to see him that way. She tells Karin that she may be his wife, but the bond Karin formed with Sasuke will never disappear; she’ll always be an important person to Sasuke, and would like to also consider her a friend:

Karin was very moved by Sakura’s words, and after a little while, she would begin to smile as tears formed in her eyes. Sakura would ask if she was okay, and Karin would say:

“You know, Sasuke was right. You really are annoying. Just when I thought I had found the resolve to finally let go, you drag me back in…”.

Sakura smiled at this, and said that she would love for Karin to be her child’s godmother, and was sure that Sasuke would approve as well.

After Sakura had just given birth, Karin would congratulate them on a healthy baby girl, and would look on with a sad smile at the happy family in front of her:

But after a little while, Sasuke would ask Karin to hold baby Sarada. Karin would comically hesitate, but after looking at Sakura, who just silently smiled and nodded in approval, she’d carefully take Sarada into her arms. Sasuke would then genuinely thank Karin for her aid, and would display to her that elusive smile that she had wanted to see for all these years:

And after realising that Sasuke’s smile was indeed directed at her, Karin was left at a loss for words, and was just frozen in place for a moment:

But she soon regained her composure, and jokingly warned Sasuke to not do anything to make Sakura unhappy. Sasuke only smirked at this, and Karin smiled to herself as she went back to making funny faces at baby Sarada.

As Sasuke and Sakura were about to depart with their new companion, Karin would privately tell Sakura to please take care of Sasuke. He had gone through so many hardships in his life, and he deserves some measure of happiness in return, which had become apparent that he had finally found with her. Sakura would then reassure Karin that she would do everything in her power to make Sasuke happy. Karin could see the sincerity of her words, and would tell Sakura that she was glad Sasuke had someone like Sakura in his life. She would then wish the two of them all the best as they headed back towards Konoha. As she watched them leave, Karin would quietly whisper to herself the three words that she had never been able to say to Sasuke directly, but was sure that he knew how she felt anyway…

As Sasuke and Sakura slowly faded from view, Karin would then make her way back inside, thinking about what she’d send Sarada for her first birthday.

  • Me: Right, you're going to have a salary.
  • My Georgian labourer-turned-time-traveller: Payment for work?
  • Me: Yup. I'm thinking about £35,000 a year based on inflation.
  • My Georgian labourer-turned-time-traveller: ...
  • Me: ... is that all right?
  • My Georgian labourer-turned-time-traveller: I'll have £35,000 a year?
  • Me: Ye-es?
  • My Georgian labourer-turned-time-traveller: £35,000 a year! I'm all but a Lord! Quick! Fetch me pheasant! And a fine chair! And- and- A PINEAPPLE! I WOULD HAVE A PINEAPPLE!
  • Me: ... oh dear.

anonymous asked:

Hahaha, those paper headlines, I love how Scottish Labour have been cozying up to the Daily Mail in an attempt to hammer the SNP over the council elections, and now they're about to get obliterated to make way for a pro Tory general election campaign. Its now likely that we're looking at a proxy indyref in like what, 8 weeks time? Here's to the Tories getting a can of whoopass opened on them here in Scotland.

Labour, both sides of the border, have been sucking up to the Daily Mail for years. Scottish Labour even hired the Scottish Daily Mail’s political editor Alan Roden as their director of communications, perhaps to get a fairer treatment in their Scottish edition? Who knows. He was congratulated by David Clegg (anti-Corbyn and pro-unionist) soon after, so I think you know exactly how that’s worked out.

You know Alan Roden, right? He’s the one that ran this headline;

However, what do Scottish Labour spend their time doing? By trying to blame everything on the SNP.

I’m also reminded of an interview with Labour peer George Foulkes. When asked his thoughts on how the SNP were doing now that they were the party in power in the Scottish Parliament, he said “the SNP are on a very dangerous tack. What they are doing is trying to build up a situation in Scotland where the services are manifestly better than south of the border in a number of areas.”

Interviewer: ”Is that a bad thing?”

Lord George Foulkes: “No, but they are doing it deliberately.”

And let’s not forget the EU referendum;

Scotland voted unequivocally to remain yet a Labour source says that it’s the fault of the SNP for Brexit. Umm, should the SNP do their job for them in England and Wales?

The SNP are the only party who can stand up for Scotland at Westminster.

Stories from work 6:

A list of my adventures from working Labour Day weekend

  • Two ladies fought with each other over the last girls backpack; neither of them ended up buying it
  • A mother screamed at and hit her son because he didn’t wanna try on a polo shirt
  • I was the only employee scheduled in the kids section and it was a disaster
  • After telling a lady we don’t have a size between XS and S, she insisted I was lying and told me I was bad at my job
  • A mother vented her frustration to me about how absurd it was that we’re closed on Labour Day
  • Every time I told someone we have no more dresses in the back, I was told to go check anyways
  • People being upset that they had to spend $100+ in order to use the coupon
  • While I was folding clothes, a lady told me I should be trying harder to clean the place
  • I told a kid to stop shaking the mannequin and the mother screamed at me for doing so
  • Having to tell customers to stop taking clothes from the display (and having to fix the same displays over and over)
  • Repeatedly telling kids to stop running; they usually didn’t stop
  • Having to replace sale signs because the kids take/ruin them
  • Kids drawing on shelves

- mod k

“Aren’t we a sight for your sore eyes, Inquisitor.”

Von went to Tevinter with Dorian and accompanies him back to Halamshiral for the Exalted Council. With a new outfit, of course.


Reader is pregnant with Michael’s baby

Reader marries Michael Part Two

“I’m pregnant.” You said to yourself in the mirror of the bathroom. You didn’t know why you were so scared to tell Michael, probably because you were petrified yourself. You paced around the bathroom and then gripped the sides of the sink, washing your face with a bit of water you tried to breath slowly.

You had gone to the clinic yesterday because you had missed two periods and you knew something was wrong. They said you were roughly 2 months and about 2 weeks. They also said that it was good I had come early because most people go too late to have control over the situation.

Walking out of the bathroom, you could see into the bedroom, it was open a little and you could see Michael reading a book in bed. Walking in, you shook like a leaf in the wind and Michael put down his book.

“Y/n. What’s wrong?” He asked standing up and walking toward you.

“I. I’m not sure how you’ll react, but I need to tell you something.” Michael looked worried now.

“What’s happened?” This time he sounded a little more angry.

“I’m pregnant.” You said with a worried face.

Michael’s face lit up and he picked you up and span you around and cheered. “A baby!!” He yelled. “You don’t understand how happy I am right now! We’ll have children running around here and we’ll see them grow up and-” You kissed him to stop him saying any more and fell back onto the bed.

“I love you.” You whispered in his ear. He smiled at you and hugged you close.
Two days later. The two of you travelled to Birmingham and asked Tommy to call a family meeting. You and Michael stood up in front of everyone and Tommy spoke first.

“I’ve called this meeting because. Michael and Y/n have some news.” Tommy said leaning on a wall. Everyone was there and they looked at both of you.

“Well-” Michael started.

“We’re going to have a baby!” You blurted out with a smile. The whole family either smiled or cheered. Polly ran toward you and embraced you in hug, then hugged Michael.

Later that day, there was a party at the Garrison but you didn’t drink in fear of hurting the baby. Esme walked up to you and rested her hand on your stomach before looking up at you and smiling broadly.

“I sense more than one.” She told you.

“I’m going to have twins?” You asked.

“I can’t be sure this early. But I’m sure there’s more than one in your belly. I can usually tell with babies.” She hugged you and you could smell the tobacco on her breath.

But that was 7 and ½ months ago. Now you felt like you were dying, your vagina felt like it could explode at any point and everything was tense. You were crying, shouting and pushing with all your strength.

“Where the fuck is Michael!” You screamed with sweat beading on your forehead.

“He said he’s on his way! Ugh. Where the fuck is he?” Polly muttered standing by the window.

“Oh my God! The baby is crowning! I can see the head of the first one. Polly come here.” Esme said sitting at the end of the bed. Polly ran over and smiled.

“She’s right. Y/n I need you to push for me. As hard as possible. This is the hard bit. But it’s all easy after this. I promise. Ada go and get some towels and hot water now. Esme go with her!” At that moment. Isla came through the door and sat at your side holding your hand.

“Where’s Michael.” She asked Polly. Polly shrugged and looked back at you.

“Come on Y/n! You can do it, I know you can! The baby has crowned. It’s the easy part now!” Polly yelled. You screamed and gripped the duvet and Isla hand. Your muscles wanted to contract but you couldn’t. You wouldn’t. You carried on pushing until you heard a crying sound. The pain stopped for a moment. Polly smiled and Isla grabbed a blanket and a towel, giving it to Polly.

You heard the snip of scissors on the umbilical cord and watched Polly wrap up the baby. She handed the baby to Isla and she handed the baby delicately to you. Just as Esme and Ada entered the room, you looked at your baby and smiled . You held the bundle to your chest.

“A green blanket for your first born.” Polly said, but you still felt the pain.

“Get ready for another. I did tell you. I can still sense more than one still in your belly.” You stared at Esme and wanted to cry. She gripped your hand.

“Do you mean… I’m having triplets!“ You looked from Polly to Esme and they nodded. You gave the baby to Isla. Ada rested the towels and hot water near the end of the bed. “Naming later.” You muttered.

At the birth of the second child there was a banging on the front door. Ada ran downstairs. Her speed down was matched by someone running up the stairs, who seemed to fall over half way up.

“Where is she!” It was Michael.

“In there.” Ada told him.

Michael ran in and saw Isla holding a green bundle and Emse holding a yellow bundle and then you. Your hair was plastered to your head with sweat and your clothes up around your waist. Your knees up and legs open, breathing quickly.

“Twins hey?’ He smiled at you.

“No. We’re not done yet.” Polly said.

“So I actually am having triplets. Oh Esme why did you have to be right.” You half cried half groaned. Then you let out a scream from the back of your throat and gripped Michael’s hand. He looked at his mother with worried eyes.

“What’s wrong?” Michael said.

“She’s in labour for the third time.” Polly replied. Rolling her eyes she focussed on you.

“But she’s alreadly had two! It’s going to hurt her!” Michael yelled looking at you.

“If you don’t shut your fucking mouth you’ll have to leave. Your making her too tense and she can’t relax her muscles enough.” Polly told him.

“It’s dangerous for the baby so shut up.” Esme told him.

The last baby took about an hour to be born and Polly wrapped the baby in a faded pink blanket. Michael held the bundle first before handing the baby to you. You started to cry again and handed the baby back to Michael.

“There. Two handsome baby boys.” Polly nodded to the green and yellow bundles that Isla and Esme were holding. “And one beautiful baby girl.” She looked to Michael holding the faded pink bundle. You were exhausted and couldn’t keep your eyes open.

“Naming later.” You muttered before falling asleep.

When you woke up, it was morning. Looking around you saw Michael sitting up against a crib with his head bowed. Through the wooden bars you could slightly see three bundles. Your children, yours and Michael’s actual children.

“Michael.” You said a few times before he woke up and walked to your side.

“You’re awake.” He crouched by you. “They slept all through the night.” He said kissing you on the cheek and looking toward the crib .

“Can I see them please?” You asked and Michael nodded. First he picked up and a green bundle and brought the baby over.

“This is our first born. A son.” Michael smiled and handed you the baby.

“What shall we name him?” You asked and your husband looked back at you.

“What about James? He’d be Jamie to us. But it sounds just respectable enough to pass as a businessman’s name.” You smirked and looked down at the sleeping dear.

“He has Tommy’s eyes.” Michael remarked before getting up again.

“He’s the only one that is awake as well.” You smirked down at the baby.

“This is our second born. Another son.” Michael said bringing over a yellow bundle. You rested him on your other arm and shuffled into the middle of the double bed.

“You name him. It’s only fair.” You told Michael. He looked at the child and tickled his cheek.

“What about Edward. Ed to us. I’ve always wanted a son called Edward Gray. It’s a grand sounding name isn’t it.” He smiled and so did you.

“So who’s left?” You asked looking at the crib. Michael stood up and then returned with a faded pink bundle. He sat opposite you on the bed and showed you the babies face.

“A beautiful little girl.” He said with tears in his eyes.

“Oh Michael.” You said and he kissed you. “I think we should call her Annabelle. Anna for short.” Michael looked down at the baby and just nodded with tears streaming.

Michael shuffled round so he was next to you and you looked down at your daughter.

“Hello little ones.” Michael said to the babies. “I’m your father. This is your mother and we’re going to do our best to raise all three of you. Even though it will be a ridiculous task.” You laughed and leant on his shoulder.

Then in through the door came Polly, John, Tommy, Arthur, Finn, Ada, Esme and Linda. The whole Shelby clan. You and Michael shushed them all as they stared in wonder at the tiny little things that were only a day old.

“What are they called?” Finn asked perched on the bed looking at baby Annabelle.

“This is James. This is Edward and that’s Annabelle.” You looked at Polly and she smiled. Coming to your side and kissing your forehead.

“I struggled with one. You just wait. It won’t all be sleeping lions soon .” Ada said to both of you.

Finn held Annabelle and he rested her head in the bend of his arms and slowly rocked his arms back and fourth to keep her sleeping. Arthur sat on the bed and held Edward. Whispering things too him and smiling down at him.

“Tommy. Come here.” You smiled at your cousin. He walked over to your bedside and sat next to you. “Look. He has your eyes.” You showed the baby to Tommy. James was the only one that was awake and he stared up at Tommy. You gave Tommy James.

“Hey, so your day old James Shelby eh? I bet you’ll grow up to be like your father. Or sensible like your mother. I suppose we can’t tell.” Tommy grinned and handed the baby back to you.

“I’m happy for you both. I mean it, I’m glad you didn’t ruin your lives with a stupid pregnancy or some rush of blood. You thought about it all and I’m glad this is the product.” Tommy said gesturing to the room of happy family members looking down at babies.

“I think we’re going to be just fine.” You said to Michael and he kissed you.


first track on the election 2017 playlist… also me living through Jeremy Corbyn’s leadership tbh…