no fours

anonymous asked:

four word prompt: please don't hate me

i was already working on this and then pictures of harry and a baby showed up today so i figured it was only appropriate to post dad harry today.

She crawls across the floor to Harry where he sits on the couch, little hands grabbing his trousers so she can pull herself up. When her tiny head pops above his knees and she sees him smiling down at her she squeals in delight, causing herself to fall back on her butt.
“Oh no,” Harry laughs, leaning over his knees so he can see her, “You alright, angel?”
She smiles up at him, rocking back and forth on her bottom. Harry checks his phone quickly and seeing what time it is, stands to go make her a bottle. “I’ll be right back, angel.” Avoiding telling her just what he was doing because she could pick up on words like “bottle” now and would probably start screaming. “Stay right here.” He lifts her and then puts her in the playpen, kissing the top of her head before heading to the kitchen.
He hated the formula, thought it smelt awful, but the doctor had insisted we switch over when he noticed she wasn’t gaining enough weight on your breast milk. It had absolutely crushed you and Harry remembered spending the whole night holding you and assuring you that you weren’t a failure and that it was out of your control.

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Part Two, Chapter Four: Print Shop

Claire has traveled thru the standing stones once again and has been reunited with Jamie. The two are looking at the photographs Claire has brought from the future, discussing the similarities in their two daughters.
You can find previous chapters here.

November 1766; Above the print shop belonging to Alexander Malcolm, Edinburgh, Scotland.
Claire.

“She had curls like Julia as a lass, aye?” Jamie reverently stroked a photograph of toddler Brianna standing on a park bench holding an ice cream cone, her hair a riotous mess around her face.

“They tamed a bit as she got older, but Bree had that same cowlick just there like Julia did.” My fingers found the rebellious tuft the three of them shared at the back of his head.

He smiled, “She’s fair like the both of ye too.”

“Very,” I agreed. “She burns in the sun easily and often complains of her freckles. I suppose that’s my genetics to blame, though, you tan rather than burn for the most part.”

“What of her voice, Sassenach? Did she sound like her?” His eyes implored me, leaving the photograph for the first time. He seemed to absorb every piece of information I gave him, needing to know every detail about his child.

I nodded, “She does.”

We fell silent for a time, just basking in the newness of being together again.

“Its beautiful, you know,” I whispered.

He turned, placing a kiss atop my head. “What is, mo nighean donn?”

“Julia’s stone.” I answered.

I wanted to continue. My heart longed to tell him how much it meant for me to have her by his parents, how comforting it was to know that she was forever safe at Lallybroch, but my lips wouldn’t form the words. I grabbed at his hands, needing to feel their strong security.

His eyes gleamed in the candle light, “I thought of her often while ye were gone, our beag calman geal. Imagined her playing with Willie and the bairn Jenny lost.”

“Caitlin, wasn’t it?” I asked as I traced the faint ‘c’ at the base of his palm with my thumb.

“Aye,” Jamie answered, clearing his throat. “I would bring a flower for each o’ them when I’d visit my parents graves.”

A lump rose in my own throat. Turning my face into his shoulder, I swallowed past it and added, “I brought her pink tulips. I should have brought flowers for them too, while I was there, but all I could think of was her.”

“She’s at Lallybroch, then?” A hint of a smile warmed Jamie’s voice.

I pulled away from him slightly, needing to see his eyes. “Of course she’s at Lallybroch.”

What on earth did that mean? Why wouldn’t she be?

“I didna want to assume… I wasna sure…  with Frank, ye ken,” he added.

The air around me grew cold. I pulled my hands from his and grabbed fistfulls of my skirt.

“What in bloody hell does Frank have to do with where our daughter is buried?”

Jamie’s brows furrowed in confusion, “What are ye saying, Claire?”

It was one thing for him to have avoided Julia’s grave out of grief, but he was acting as though he had no knowledge of where he had laid her to rest.

“What am I saying? You’re the one not making any sense.” I stood and backed away from him, “You speak as though you haven’t the foggiest idea where she is!”

He tried to reach for me, but I avoided him.  “How would I ken where she is if ye dinna tell me, Claire?”

If I didn’t tell him?

“Why would I need to tell you where you buried her?” I asked slowly, finding it very hard to breathe.

Fear began to creep into Jamie’s eyes. “The two o’ ye went into the stones, Claire. Did she no come out wi’ ye?”

No.

This wasn’t possible.

Spots flashed before my eyes as Jamie lunged towards me, just in time to gather me into his arms before I hit the ground. The noise of the stones roared in my ears and drowned out the sound of Jamie’s voice. I was laying in his arms, the rough cotton of his shirt pressed against my cheek, but the world rushed past me as though I were falling off a cliff.

Wrapping my arms about his neck, I clung to him fiercely as my tears slowly pulled me back into reality. He wasn’t speaking anymore, but wept with me, gently rocking back and forth. The repetitive motion and vibration of his strong heartbeat set me back on solid ground.

If she hadn’t come thru with me and she hadn’t stayed with Jamie, where and when did she go? And how was she buried at Lallybroch?

Jamie was the one to actually put words to the question, once he found his voice again.

A strong spasm ran thru me, making me convulse at the sound of it. His arms squeezed tighter around me, as if protecting me from myself.

“Where is she, Jamie?” I asked after a time, my voice trembling.

“She is at rest, mo chridhe,” Jamie whispered in my ear.

“But when? How?”

“I dinna ken,” his thumb wiped at a trail of tears on my cheek, “but if she is at Lallybroch, that means she was with family, aye?”

“She finds us,” I murmured.

Jamie’s chin quivered as he tried to smile, “We always find a way back to each other, mo nighean donn. Why should our daughter be any different?”

Thinking about my deep cover au where Anakin, Padme, Obi-wan, and Ahsoka are gearing up to be the Four Horsemen of Palpatine’s own private apocalypse.

(Which is why I’m calling it Four Horsemen au in my head, btw. I don’t want it to get confused with @fialleril ‘s absolutely incredible Double Agent Vader stories)

Just a list of random extra things to go in it, most of them about Padme but some about the others:

Vader and Bail, despite being allies, are very stiff and uncomfortable around each other for a long time. (Vader is far more comfortable with Breha at first). But they end up bonding over being overprotective of Leia and being exasperated over some risk Obi-wan took. (”He’d better not teach that kind of behavior to Luke,” Bail asserts grimly. “Oh no, we’re in trouble as it is with my risk-taking and Padme’s being potentially genetic. Add Kenobi and Luke will have personally caused six cataclysms by his tenth birthday.” Vader agrees)

(Vader is afraid that Leia will hate him for most of her childhood, and he’s also afraid he’s endangering his kids every time he contacts them or interacts with them. Hence him misinterpreting about half of Leia’s cries when she was a baby as “I scared her” and usually ending with him or Breha yelling “Bail help!”
He’s a lot more confident with little Luke, who gets to call him twice a week and is convinced until he’s five that all dads are bald because his dad doesn’t have any hair)

Padme. 
Padme is a master of disguise.
I mentioned this in the other post, but now I’m adding a little more detail to her exploits.

As such, she gets to see her family much more than anyone else in the group. For Ahsoka’s twenty-second birthday, Padme disguises herself as a wandering Zeltron bard and helps her liberate an entire city, just the two of them. Toppling regimes tends to be what they do for Ahsoka’s birthday now. It’s rarely intentional. It just happens. And then they go out for drinks with General Syndulla, usually.

When she’s thirty-two, she invents a character named Joana Rys, a hard-nosed ISB harpy and the terror of Imperial interns everywhere. She uses this disguise as an excuse to visit her husband, who thinks the whole thing is hilarious and usually ends up creating a few “problems” for “Agent Rys” to discover and report.

There are entire divisions of the Empire that live in constant fear of up to three of Padme’s “characters” at any given time. Especially the one that has no name, just leaves the mark of angel wings burned into walls.

Luke had to learn to sense people’s identities early because his mother looked different almost every time he saw her. He also had to learn to keep secrets early because Beru had to explain to him “sometimes your Mommy needs you to pretend she’s not there, okay? Like hide-and-seek”.
Luke thinks this is totally normal until he’s ten.

About half of Anakin’s calls to Obi-wan end with the latter yelling “Have to go! Luke’s on the roof!” or “Luke’s trying to fly a speeder HE’S SEVEN” or “OWEN THAT’S NOT SAFE WHAT KIND OF EXAMPLE ARE YOU SETTING FOR LUKE” (Owen was balanced on a box with wheels. That’s it. That’s all he was doing)

(you may need to open this in a new tab to read it!)

so a while ago, I started up a comic called Tip the Scales about a naga!Vio, but never committed to it… and although I’m probably not gonna keep going with it, I had this rough draft saved on my PC and it was too good to not do, so I decided to finish it up!! I didn’t maintain the original comic’s colour scheme because I felt that it would be better without it.

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