the gods of baggage

judimancini1  asked:

Read the piece about Claire's sp power. Please discuss Jamie's "seeing." Love, your blog! Thanks in advance.

I do believe that Jamie has some form of The Sight - as in, in his dreams he can see across time and look in on what his children and grandchildren are doing.

We first get a glimpse of this in Drums of Autumn:

“I did wonder…” Jamie hesitated for a moment. “Has she a birthmark, Sassenach? And if so, did ye tell me of it?”  

  “She does,” I said slowly, thinking. “I don’t think I ever told you about it, though; it isn’t visible most of the time, so it’s been years since I noticed it, myself. It’s a—”

  His hand tightening on my shoulder stopped me.  

  “It’s a wee brown mark, shaped like a diamond,” he said. “Just behind her left ear. Isn’t it?”  

  “Yes, it is.” It was warm and cozy in bed, but a small coolness on the back of my neck made me shiver suddenly. “Did you see that in your dream?”  

  “I kissed her there,” he said softly.


And then there’s this scene at the end of A Breath of Snow and Ashes:

 “You dreamed about Brianna and the children? What happened?”  

    …“It is all right,” he said. “They are safe. I saw them in a town—it seemed like Inverness, but it was different, somehow. They walked up the step of a house—Roger Mac was with them,” he added, offhand. “They knocked at the door, and a wee brown-haired woman opened to them. She laughed wi’ joy to see them, and brought them in, and they went down a hallway, wi’ strange things like bowls hanging from the ceiling.

      “Then they were in a room, wi’ sofas and chairs, and the room had great windows all down one wall, from the floor to the ceiling, and the afternoon sun was streaming in, setting Brianna’s hair to fire, and makin’ wee Mandy cry when it got in her eyes.”  

      “Did … did any of them call the brown-haired woman by name?” I asked, my heart beating in a queer, fast way.  

      He frowned, moonlight making a cross of light over nose and brows.  

      “Aye, they did,” he said. “I canna just—oh, aye; Roger Mac called her Fiona.”  

      “Did he?” I said. My hands rested on his shoulder, and my mouth was a hundred times drier than it had been when I woke up. The night was chilly, but not enough to account for the temperature of my hands.  

      I had told Jamie any amount of things about my own time over the years of our marriage. About trains and planes and automobiles and wars and indoor plumbing. But I was nearly sure that I had never told him what the study looked like in the manse where Roger had grown up with his adoptive father.  

      The room with the window wall, made to accommodate the Reverend’s painting hobby. The manse with its long hallway, furnished with old-fashioned light fixtures, shaped like hanging bowls. And I knew I had never told him about the Reverend’s last housekeeper, a girl with dark, curly hair, called Fiona.  

      “Were they happy?” I asked at last, very quietly.  

      “Aye. Brianna and the lad—they had some shadows to their faces, but I could see they were glad nonetheless. They all sat down to eat—Brianna and her lad close together, leaning on each other—and wee Jem stuffed his face wi’ cakes and cream.” He smiled at the picture, teeth a brief gleam in the darkness.

      “Oh—at the last, just before I woke … wee Jem was messin’ about, picking things up and putting them down as he does. There was a … thing . . on the table. I couldna say what it was; I’ve never seen the like.”  

      He held his hands about six inches apart, frowning at them. “It was maybe this wide, and just a bit longer—something like a box, maybe, only sort of … humped.”  

      “Humped?” I said, puzzled as to what this could be.  

    “Aye, and it had a thing on top like a wee club, only wi’ a knob to each end, and the club was tied to the box wi’ a sort of black cord, curled up on itself like a piggie’s tail. Jem saw it, and he reached out his hand, and said, ‘I want to talk to Grandda.’ And then I woke.”  

      He leaned his head back farther, so as to look up into my face.  

      “Would ye ken what a thing like that might be, Sassenach? It was like nothing I’ve ever seen.”  

      The autumn wind came rustling down from the hill, dry leaves hurrying in its wake, quick and light as the footsteps of a ghost, and I felt the hair rise on nape and forearms.  

      “Yes, I know,” I said. “I’ve told you about them, I know.” I didn’t think, though, that I had ever described one to him, in more than general terms. I cleared my throat.  

      “It’s called a telephone.”


And then this scene in Echo:

“You‘ve been dreaming of them, haven‘t you?” I said.

…“I saw Jem and the wee lass—” A smile came over his face at that. “God, she‘s a feisty wee baggage! She minds me o‘ you, Sassenach.”

…“What were they doing?”

He rubbed a finger between his brows as though his forehead itched.

“They were outside,” he said slowly. “Jem told her to do something and she kicked him in the shin and ran away from him, so he chased her. I think it was spring.” He smiled, eyes fixed on whatever he‘d seen in his dream. “I mind the wee flowers, caught in her hair, and lying in drifts across the stones.”

“What stones?” I asked sharply.

“Oh. The gravestones,” he answered, readily enough. “That‘s it—they were playing among the stones on the hill behind Lallybroch.”

I sighed happily. This was the third dream that he‘d had, seeing them at Lallybroch. It might be only wishful thinking, but I knew it made him as happy as it made me, to feel that they had made a home there.

…“Right. What was it that bothered you, though?”

He glanced curiously at me.

“How did ye ken I was troubled?”

I looked at him down my nose—or as much down my nose as was possible, given the disparity of height.

“You may not have a glass face, but I have been married to you for thirty-odd years.”

He let the fact that I hadn‘t actually been with him for twenty of those years pass without comment, and only smiled.

“Aye. Well, it wasna anything, really. Only that they went into the broch.”…The small frown was back between his brows.

“The broch,” he repeated, and looked at me, helpless. “I dinna ken what it was. Only that I didna want them to go in. It … felt as though there was something inside. Waiting. And I didna like it at all.”

The MBTI Types as things in Heathers the Musical

Because this play is amazing.

WARNING: HAS MAJOR SPOILERS FOR THE PLAY. Ordered from information that spoilers the plot the least, to information that spoils the plot the most (kind of?)

ENFJ: Veronica manipulating her way from the bottom of the highschool hierarchy, to the top, in a span of 4 minutes

ESFP: the chorus of highschoolers dramatically singing “HOLY SH*T!” as a fight breaks out in the cafeteria.

ESTP: “Well, being extreme always seems to make an impression”.

ISTP: JD coping with his mom’s suicide through 7/11 slushies and aggression.

INFP: Claiming that you worship your girlfriend and coming up with the intriguing, but frightening metaphor of “Our Love is God”.

ESFJ: Dumping your entire life-story and emotional baggage on TV, in order to make your students feel safe about revealing suicidal thoughts to you and each other.

ISTJ: Martha suddenly becoming Nancy Drew and scaring the living daylights out of Veronica for 2 minutes there

INTP: Veronica silently panicking at accidentally killing Heather Chandler and coping with it by making a period joke, and then laughing at said joke.

INFJ: JD saying to Veronica that she needs to work hard “on keeping her soul clean” and then deciding near the end of the play that killing people is the best way to rid the world of a**holes.

ENTP: “Ich lüge” Bullets

ISFJ: Trying to convince your boyfriend that, hey, maybe killing people isn’t going to save society, and that you just want to have a normal relationship instead.

ENFP: Deciding that when your girlfriend said she wanted a normal relationship, she meant wanting to make s’mores from the fire of your bombed school and classmates.

ISFP: “This is the most beautiful suicide note I’ve ever seen”.

ESTJ: Ms. Fleming being high-key disappointed that Veronica didn’t actually commit suicide because the tribute she made on such a short notice would go to waste.

INTJ: “People are going to see the ashes of Westerburg High School and they’re gonna think, “There’s a school that self-destructed not because society doesn’t care, but because THAT school WAS. SOCIETY. The only place that Heathers and Marthas can get along IS IN HEAVEN”, said from the trench-coat wearing kid who believes he has the entire world figured out.

ENTJ: Veronica singing “Say hi to God” to JD as he blows himself up, but the audience knowing that kid went straight to hell.

Mental Health Expert: Just talk to friends and family about how your feeling when you get really down :)

Me: *Friends no longer really talk to me and are usually distant.*, *Family sees me as a burden.*
Honey??? Who am I supposed to talk about this too???

anonymous asked:

Skimmons prompt: Jemma comes back from the Monolith with powers and Skye/Daisy helps her adjust to this new life and they start to form a closer bond and it all eventually leads to their first kiss. So from friends to girlfriends. :D

Deep Into the Mountain Sound 

~12,000 words

A/N: um :’) this got really extensive i’m sorry. i’m sure yall are sick of me talking about it but here it is!! my epic gay mountain ladies with powers fic 


So, she’d run.

Jemma had been doing a lot of running lately. (On the planet, it had been a necessity. You sleep, and when you’re not sleeping, you run. You run, or you get too comfortable. You run, or you get negligent. You run, or the monsters catch up. You run, or you die. So, she’d done it anyway, but it hadn’t exactly been her idea—the running. And it wasn’t this time, either.)

Dr. Garner had suggested the ‘getaway’, as he called it. After living in isolation for so long, the crowded base, with all its noise, and hovering (well-meaning, she corrects herself) people, was too overwhelming for her. She’d tried, she’d given it an honest shot. But it wasn’t the right environment for her, not anymore. He thought that it would be easier for her body, and her mind, to acclimate back to this world if she could do so somewhere secluded, where there weren’t too many people, too many distractions. Slowly, she’d immerse herself back in the world, in her own time. So Coulson, only somewhat grudgingly, had offered up a cabin, a SHIELD safe-house, for her to use ‘until she was ready to come back home’.

(The team hadn’t been happy. Least of all Fitz, who’d rallied to go with her, having just gotten her back and not wanting to let her out of his sight just yet. If Coulson wouldn’t let him go, he’d said, he’d quit, and go anyway.

It was only a (very) firm word from Dr. Garner that made him stay. He wasn’t what she needed right now, Dr. Garner told him. She needed someone who could give her space, who wasn’t expecting anything from her. Most importantly, someone who she wouldn’t feel the need to perform for.

Fitz reluctantly agreed that he didn’t fit the bill. That he, just this once, wasn’t what she needed. She’d put too much pressure on herself, in his presence. If anyone could understand that, it was him. So he’d stayed behind, on the promise that she would call him whenever she had the urge, and that he could visit, if she wanted him.

But she shouldn’t be alone, Dr. Garner said.

So Skye had volunteered to go with her. At least for the first little while, to get her settled, to keep track of how she was adjusting and send updates to Dr. Garner. She might have to leave to go on missions, that was part of the agreement, but she’d be living in the cabin with Jemma for the foreseeable future.)

Skye.

Jemma glances over at her in the driver’s seat, watching her tap her fingers on the wheel to the beat of the song that’s playing quietly over the radio, and then looks back to her window before Skye has the chance to notice. The trees, lush and green in the spring warmth, roar past them. Skye is maybe driving a little too fast, but it’s not like they’ll come across any other cars. They’re far up in the mountains, and the cabin they’re making their way to is the only one around for miles. Besides that, it’s just forest, which hugs the sides of the road, only allowing the sun to grace the asphalt in wavering patches.

They hadn’t been informed exactly where they are, but judging from the flora, and the climate, and how long the flight had been, Jemma guesses somewhere in the Great Smoky Mountains. North Carolina, maybe, or Tennessee. She’d feel better if she knew exactly where they were (she’d spent long enough having no idea where she was, and she didn’t care for it), but it had been classified. It’s whatever, she’ll probably figure it out soon enough. If only she had access to a geography book, maybe a guide to the local fauna.

(Dr. Garner had told her to focus on herself, not distractions. Focus on how she’s feeling, what she’s thinking. Mindfulness, he’d called it. But she just—she can’t. She can’t stand living in her own head all the time. All she’d had on that planet was herself, and truth be told, she’d gotten sick of the company.)

Skye yawns, and Jemma risks another glance. Something gnaws at her gut: guilt. She knows it intimately, a closer friend to her than anything else has been over the years.

Had Skye only come because she felt guilty? Jemma knows that she, along with most of the team, had given up hope of ever getting Jemma back. They’d stopped trying to find her. (Jemma doesn’t blame them, it had been a long time. She might’ve done the same, if she’d been in their position.) Was that why Skye came? Trying to make up for something.

Dr. Garner told her it’s okay to be a burden, sometimes. It’s okay to let other people help carry her weight, if she can’t carry it herself.

(Jemma doesn’t believe that.)

She doesn’t want Skye to have to carry it for her, any of it. Skye isn’t her pack mule. She’s a friend. A friend who is probably only here because of her own guilt, her own emotional baggage. God, Jemma’s just going to make it worse, probably. Skye is here out of obligation (what if Dr. Garner had talked her into it? What if she hadn’t wanted to come at all?) and now she’s going to have to deal with all of Jemma’s triggers and her trauma responses and the emotional sack of shit that she’s turned into lately. Skye shouldn’t have to handle all that. It’s not fair to her, not in the least.

Fuck. Jemma’s horrible, isn’t she, for agreeing to Skye coming along. For letting her do this, for letting anyone come along at all. She should’ve come alone, dealt with this alone. No one should be forced to stand her right now, when she can barely stand herself.

Tears prick in the back of her eyes. Her throat is tightening closed. Skye can’t notice, though, she can’t, or she’ll just be concerned, and guilty, and that will make Jemma more guilty, and she just—she can’t do this. Jemma can’t do this. All of this was a mistake.

Fuck fuck fuck.

Suddenly, there’s a loud thud, and Skye curses, slamming on the breaks. Jemma catches herself against the dash, heart beating, jarred away from her thoughts.

A tree has fallen into the road, right in front of them, just as they were about to drive past it. It looks rotten. Decayed. Bark black and oozing, caving in on itself. It’s a wonder that it hadn’t fallen down long ago. Jemma thinks how unlucky it was that it fell just as they were driving by (has a fleeting, silly thought that it’s an omen of some kind) and then notices that the surrounding trees in the area all look like they’re in a state of decay as well. Just in this one spot.

“Freaky,” Skye says, and Jemma gives a noncommittal hum.

(Later, she’ll label this ‘incident number one’.)

read on AO3 

Sweet As! Pacific Ale (GoodLife)

Brewery : GoodLife
Beer : Sweet As! Pacific Ale
Style : American Pale Ale / Pale Ale / APA
Variance : None

8 / 10

Ohhhhhh yeah! Gimme that Nicki Minaj bootay! That is one “sweet as”! I feel like I want to take her on long flights with me and just put my head between those brown buttcheeks and use it as a neck pillow so I can finally get a good night’s rest in the air. Also, fuck Spirit Airlines. They are basically the subway of the sky and they should just stop being a company as of yesterday. Also while you’re at it airlines, stop charging for god damn baggage and start giving me my fucking peanuts again. I don’t give a shit if Jim in aisle 5 has a nut allergy, he can just not eat them. How about that? Apparently in Australia the expression “sweet as” basically means heaps cool which also makes no sense but that came straight from an Aussie’s mouth so it must be right. Basically, they use that expression to describe anything that is awesome or gnarly or radical which actually makes it a pretty good name for this beer even though I normally wouldn’t use such street urchin terms to describe my brews. Who am I kidding, I am lowest of the low and this beer is fucking tubular! This has a super fruity passion fruit like flavor to start with a light bitterness before a more bready flavor mixes in bringing more sweetness before ending with a slight hop bite with more malt lingering long after each sip. For my first voyage into GoodLife’s lineup, I am pleased so far and I fully expect things to only get better from here just like Christina Ricci. I mean, from Wednesday Addams to current day? Major improvement. Like MAJOR! Call me Christina… Anyways, if this is your first APA you are in luck because this is the perfect brew for beginners to get into a hugely popular style due to it’s lighter and fruitier flavors so snag a “sweet as” can today! For you bastards out there drinking your lives away, I commend you for being “sweet as” and I would recommend picking this up and enjoying it before you die. Thanks!

Written by: Steve B.

No turning back.

I am so glad and blessed that I have found Jesus. 

I feel different now, sobrang sarap sa pakiramdam whenever I am talking to Him and He lifted away all my pains and baggage. 

Grabe po Lord God, I am so grateful right now.

Clarity || Blind!Ashton Irwin (Smut)

  • word count: 5.3k 
  • warnings: blind… folding?
  • okay. yes. this took forever and a day to write. but i have to say that i am so fucking nervous about posting this because it’s my first “story-type” smut and i worked insanely hard on it. i just really hope you enjoy. i’ve never invested myself so much into a story. -xx

Keep reading

I could see at once that Jamie had been dreaming again.

His face had an unfocused, inward look, as though he were seeing something other than the fried black pudding on his plate. 

Seeing him like this gave me an urgent desire to ask what he had seen—quelled at once, for fear that if I asked too soon, he might lose some part of the dream. It also, truth be told, knotted me with envy. I would have given anything to see what he saw, whether it was real or not. That hardly mattered—it was connection, and the severed nerve ends that had joined me to my vanished family sparked and burned like shorted-out electrical cables when I saw that look on his face. 

I couldn’t stand not to know what he had dreamed, though in the usual manner of dreams, it was seldom straightforward. 

“You’ve been dreaming of them, haven’t you?” I said, when the serving maid had gone out. We’d risen late, tired from the long ride to Wilmington the day before, and were the only diners in the inn’s small front room. 

He glanced at me and nodded slowly, a small frown between his brows. That made me uneasy; the occasional dreams he had of Bree or the children normally left him peaceful and happy. 

“What?” I demanded. “What happened?” 

He shrugged, still frowning. 

“Nothing, Sassenach. I saw Jem and the wee lass—” A smile came over his face at that. “God, she’s a feisty wee baggage! She minds me o’ you, Sassenach.” 

This was a dubious compliment as phrased, but I felt a deep glow at the thought. I’d spent hours looking at Mandy and Jem, memorizing every small feature and gesture, trying to extrapolate, imagine what they would look like as they grew—and I was almost sure that Mandy had my mouth. I knew for a fact that she had the shape of my eyes—and my hair, poor child, for all it was inky black. 

“What were they doing?” 

He rubbed a finger between his brows as though his forehead itched. 

“They were outside,” he said slowly. “Jem told her to do something and she kicked him in the shin and ran away from him, so he chased her. I think it was spring.” He smiled, eyes fixed on whatever he’d seen in his dream. “I mind the wee flowers, caught in her hair, and lying in drifts across the stones.” 

“What stones?” I asked sharply. 

“Oh. The gravestones,” he answered, readily enough. “That’s it—they were playing among the stones on the hill behind Lallybroch.” 

I sighed happily. This was the third dream that he’d had, seeing them at Lallybroch. It might be only wishful thinking, but I knew it made him as happy as it made me, to feel that they had made a home there. 

“They could be,” I said. “Roger went there—when we were looking for you. He said the place was standing vacant, for sale. Bree would have money; they might have bought it. They could be there!” I’d told him that before, but he nodded, pleased. 

“Aye, they could be,” he said, his eyes still soft with his memory of the children on the hill, chasing through the long grass and the worn gray stones that marked his family’s rest. 

“A flutterby came with them,” he said suddenly. “I’d forgot that. A blue one.” 

“Blue? Are there blue butterflies in Scotland?” I frowned, trying to remember. Such butterflies as I’d ever noticed had tended to be white or yellow, I thought. 

Jamie gave me a look of mild exasperation. 

“It’s a dream, Sassenach. I could have flutterbys wi’ tartan wings, and I liked.” 

I laughed, but refused to be distracted. 

“Right. What was it that bothered you, though?” 

He glanced curiously at me. 

“How did ye ken I was troubled?” 

I looked at him down my nose—or as much down my nose as was possible, given the disparity of height. 

“You may not have a glass face, but I have been married to you for thirty-odd years.” 

He let the fact that I hadn’t actually been with him for twenty of those years pass without comment, and only smiled. 

“Aye. Well, it wasna anything, really. Only that they went into the broch.” 

“The broch?” I said uncertainly. The ancient tower for which Lallybroch was named did stand on the hill behind the house, its shadow passing daily through the burying ground like the stately march of a giant sundial. Jamie and I had gone up there often of an evening in our early days at Lallybroch, to sit on the bench that stood against the broch’s wall and be away from the hubbub of the house, enjoying the peaceful sight of the estate and its grounds spread white and green below us, soft with twilight. 

The small frown was back between his brows. 

“The broch,” he repeated, and looked at me, helpless. “I dinna ken what it was. Only that I didna want them to go in. It … felt as though there was something inside. Waiting. And I didna like it at all.”

- An Echo in the Bone

Listen: you can and will do better. Be consistent & be patient with yourself. Don’t listen to anyone that tells you that you got too much baggage, that God won’t forgive you, that you’re not “there yet”. What is “there”? No one will ever be “there” because “there” is not a destination, it’s a journey. Surround yourself with positive energy or be alone; but never compromise your faith and your goals because you’re afraid to be alone. You can do it, I promise; but bear in mind that it won’t be easy - at all. In fact, trying to do better is the most difficult thing you can do. Because it’s so easy to stay as you are - comfortable but mediocre. Say bismillaah and ask God to pave the way for you; to ease matters for you & to make you firm upon this path. Stay committed.

Pregnancy Series #18 ~ Baby Shower

Pregnancy Series Here

Niall ~ 

Theme: Bumble Bees (unknown gender)

Cake: “Niall, you need to leave,” Liam’s girlfriend said, trying to walk him to the front door. “I told you: it’s only girls.”

“But I want cake, and I want to see the cool stuff we got,” he whined, holding onto the doorframe so he could stay in the room longer as she tried to push him out. 

“Niall James Horan, right now,” she said sternly. Sensing his distress, you walked over to him and brushed the hair away from his face. You gave him a quick kiss on the lips before pushing him the rest of the way out the door.

“I’ll save you some cake, now go. I love you,” you said, and he finally left, allowing Liam’s girlfriend to shut the front door of her home. You, along with Niall and the other girls, had flown home for the shower. You would be staying home now that your due date was closer, but Niall had to fly back to attend the last month and a half of the tour. 

“Save me some candy, too!” you heard him yell from outside. You laughed, and turned to finally take in the decor of the room that your boyfriend had distracted you from. There were yellows and whites everywhere, and the smell of delicious food coming from the kitchen. You really appreciated the small, yet still amazing, party the girls had thrown for you. 

“First game?” Louis’ girlfriend asked, wiping the frosting from a cupcake off her chin. You all nodded as she began to explain it. “Okay, so we’re going to have a diapering race. Each player gets a doll, a blindfold and diapers. You have to wear the blindfold, and whoever puts the diaper on the doll the fastest wins. Simple enough?” 

The first half of you sat on the floor in a circle. Someone helped you down safely and tied the blindfold around your head so you couldn’t see a thing. As soon as Harry’s girlfriend yelled ‘go’, the room was filled with cheers of encouragement and victory. You ended up coming in fourth out of six, with the diaper lopsided on the plastic doll. Lesson learned: you need practice on wrapping diapers.

Cake:

Table Decor:

Food/Decorations:

Invitation:

Favorite Gift:

Zayn ~ 

Theme: Shabby Chic

You folded a cute little sweater you had just received as a gift from a family member and stuffed it back into the bag along with the blanket and stuffed bear.  

“Ready Y/N?” you heard Safaa yell from across the room somewhere.

“I’m not sure for what…but yeah okay,” you chuckled when suddenly she came out of the kitchen with Zayn, holding a massive cake in their hands. Your jaw dropped as they set the intricately decorated dessert on the table in front of you. Ribbons of frosting in pastel colors coated the outside, and on the top sat a pair of edible pink baby booties.

“Guys! Oh my god! This….this is so, so beautiful!” you said ecstatically as you looked at the amazing creation in front of you. Trisha put her hands on your shoulders and smiled as she leaned down to give you a kiss on your cheek.

“I knew you’d love it,” Waliyha grinned while standing beside you. She handed you a knife and you held it in your hand, not doing anything with it.

“It’s so pretty, how are we supposed to eat it?!” you questioned as you whipped out your phone and snapped a picture.

“Trust me Y/N, you’ll wanna try it…it’s red velvet with bananas and strawberries, your favorite,” Safaa smiled while grabbing the knife from you grasp. She slowly (and painfully for you) cut into the flawless cake and placed a large piece on a plate for you. As she began cutting another large piece for someone else you began to eat yours. She was right: it was delicious, the best cake you’ve ever eaten. Zayn came beside you and sat in the chair next to you.

“Are you having fun?” he asked as he began to eat his own slice. You nodded without looking at him, but put your hand on his knee in a loving way.

“I love you, Zayn,” you said, putting a speck of frosting onto his nose. He scrunched up his eyes and attempted to lick the icing from his skin.

Cake:

Table Decor:

Food/Decorations:

Invitation:

Favorite Gift:

Liam (his pov) ~

Theme: Teddy Bears

I smiled, watching my wife, who was sitting between our mums and my sisters, gushing over a gift she had just unwrapped. She held up the set of baby bottles from one of her school friends, and went onto the next colorfully wrapped box.

Her dad came up behind me and put his rather large, and scary, hand on my shoulder. I turned an smiled, receiving a small grin in return. “I’m glad she’s happy with you,” he began. “I was worried when we first found out about her, uh, situation; that she wouldn’t find a man to accept her baggage. I thank God everyday for you, son.”

I looked around at the room decorated in blues and browns. Her mum had gone all out, taking advantage of the high budget we had set. I nodded with a huge smile, calm knowing her dad approved of me, even after many years of us being together. 

“Are you excited for your son?” he asked, looking at his daughter, the love of my life. She now had an adorable stuffed lion cuddled to her chest as she laughed at something her mum said. 

“You have no idea,” I told him. He really didn’t, since no one knew of my ‘situation’, as he had put it. We had avoided telling anyone about my fertility issues, and left it to what they already knew. 

“She’s doing okay? She doesn’t open up much to me or her mother. Her mum worries,” he chuckled lightly, sticking his hands into his pockets. 

“She’s brilliant. Excited. There are moments that are hard her- for the both of us, but we pull through,” I explained. He nodded slowly, his gaze focused on the girls. 

“Just take care of her, yeah? Her and that baby you’re getting,” he said, a stern look of his face.

“Don’t worry, sir,” I say. As he walked away to see her reaction to opening the present he and his wife bought her, I whispered, “she’s my world.” 

Cake: 

Table Decor:

Food/Decorations:

Invitation:

Favorite Gift:

Harry ~

Theme: Cirque Du Bebe (pink and yellow circus)

You finished opening up the last gift, a blanket with Styles monogramed on the corner, that one of your best friends had given you when Harry loudly cleared his throat. He grinned, showing all his pearly whites, as he stood up in the center of the room. 

“Harry, no,” you pleaded, knowing he would probably start telling the lame jokes that you secretly loved in front of all your friends.

You felt you cheeks turn pink as he began, “I’d like to say a few things to my gorgeous wife, Y/N: You are the love of my life, and I’m beyond happy that I get to start a family with someone as amazing as you. I don’t know why you stay when I’m off on 8 month tours and when I’m home, I have to be at the studio all day….and I know that’s hard. I just want to thank you for that, because I don’t know what I’d do if you weren’t at home waiting for me. And now I’ll have this beautiful baby girl waiting for me too,” he said. All your guests awed at his sweet words, and your cheeks turned a deep red. 

He bent down so he was level with you since were sitting on a chair and placed his hands on your baby bump. “I love you and can’t wait to see her tiny face,” he chuckled softly before leaning down and pressing his lips gently to yours, your eyes tearing up as he pulled away. 

“Thank you,” you whispered as he hugged you to his chest.

“No, thank you,” he pulled away and grabbed your hand to pull you to your feet.

"I love you so much Harry,” you grinned while placing your arms around his neck. 

He rested his forehead onto yours, “love you too,” he muttered, kissing your lips once more. “Oh! One more thing, sorry. Thanks to whoever got us the baby fedora! Love it! Now for the cake!” he said as he sat beside you and shoved a forkful into his mouth.

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Louis ~

Theme: Jungle

“Okay time for my present!” Louis said happily as he stood up and grabbed the massive box from the back of the pile. He slid the perfectly wrapped gift in front of you and you smiled, having a good idea of what it was.

“You’re gonna love it,” he smirked. You smiled shyly, stood up from your seat so you could reach all the way around. You slid your fingers under the green paper and began to tear gently. 

“Get on with it, yeah!” Phoebe, Louis’ sister laughed from your side. You turned and stuck your tongue out at her childishly. You sped up the ripping process before you received another comment until a small part of the picture began to show. Louis stood over you, smirking with his fingers playing with his lower lip. You looked up to him with your mouth slightly agape in surprise. 

“No freaking way!” you exclaimed at the sight of the picture of the bassinet you had been dreaming of getting for months. Flashes went off all your friends and family’s cameras as your face lit up. Johanna had given you the tip that, obviously, it was best to keep the babies in your room for the first few months, and they would sleep better for the firs few weeks if they were beside each other. This wooden bassinet was large enough for two babies to fit comfortably but small enough to fit beside you bed. Plus it rocked!

“Louis! I can’t believe you bought this!” you beamed as you jumped up and down the best you could. You nearly leaped into his waiting arms and gave his a long kiss on the lips. 

“Of course I was gonna buy it for you; It’s all you’ve been talking about since ages ago,” he chuckled as he held you close, pecking your lips quickly as you leaned up to him. 

You quickly went back to the huge box, “ah! I can’t wait to see the boys in it,” you smiled as some of your friends got up to come and take a look. 

“I’m just gonna go put it together really quick, I’ll tell you when you can come see it yeah?” Louis smirked as Liam and him moved the box into the house. You sat anxiously at the table for what seemed like hours with your baby shower guests (it was only about 45 minutes, as Lottie told you later) until finally Louis happily leaned out the back door. 

“Ready?” he questioned, and you began nodding your head instantly. Fizzy grabbed your hand to pull you up and followed you into the house. Louis grabbed your hand and pulled you up the stairs to your bedroom. You looked to your side of the bed  laid eyes on the perfectly placed dark wood bassinet. 

“It’s looks so good!” you squealed as tears started to begin forming quickly in your eyes. Louis’ arms made their way to your waist and he softly kissed your forehead. 

“How about we show everyone else then?” he asked, raising his eyebrows at you as he grabbed your hand reassuringly once more. 

“Yes- Jay! Girls! Come on up!” you yelled excitedly as you listened for the heavy footsteps of your relatives and friends. 

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Sorry everyone for lack of devotionals! I have been focusing on school as well as my own relationship with God. This summer was a doozy for me. As Job says, “The Lord giveth and he taketh away…” Like everything, lol. Along the way, I lost some baggage, gained some wisdom, and began depending on God full time. So far, it is going better than excellent and the timing is also excellent (that’s another devotional for another day). Below are 20 things I learned this summer that may just help you with whatever you’re going through. Shall we begin?

  1. God is not your safety net, but He is your saving grace. Trust Him.
  2. Pride is the first step towards self-destruction. Anger’s the next.
  3. Christ is life-changing if you allow Him to change your life.
  4. A boy’s attention bears no comparison to Gods attention.
  5. Your passion in life lies in the life God has laid out for you.
  6. Just because you like it doesn’t mean it’s good for you.
  7. New seasons are best begun with God, hand-in-hand.
  8. Serve others, always. By serving others, you become better.
  9. It’s good be a woman, but it is even better to be a lady.
  10. You can like people without allowing them to change you.
  11. Compromising what you like with what God expects isn’t Christianity.
  12. Laugh and smile frequently. 
  13. Parents and Siblings are a great company. 
  14. Be intentional about your friendships.
  15. Don’t confuse compliments with sincere interest.
  16. Read Christian literature.
  17. Stop idolizing other Christians; they are not better than you.
  18. Learn to love the Bible, and God will repay you with wisdom.
  19. Politeness goes a long way.
  20. Love yourself and also allow others to love you as well!