#Celebrate Mom

[dmempowermentshop]

Cherish motherhood with our Custom Sunflower Floral Mug! Perfect for future moms and new moms, it's a heartfelt gift for Mother's Day or any occasion. Brighten her day with every sip. Shop now!

[momscrubsandmysteries]

My 2024 Portuguese Mother’s Day - Dia da Mãe 2024

EN: This year my kids surprised me with all this handcrafted DIY goodies and I couldn’t be more proud of their crafting skills! Check them out, it may give you some ideas for your own Mom! Feel free to get inspired and show your Mother all the love and appreciation she deserves! 🧍🏼‍♀️Eva, 10y 🧍🏼Lucas, 6y PT: Este ano os meus filhos surpreenderam-me com este conjunto de presentes feitos por…

[gongyussy]

you think YOU had a bad day at work?

bonus: sid shrieking "no!!!! NO!!!!!" loud enough to be heard in the stands and on camera

[hood-ex]

All the Americans on RedNote/Xiaohongshu that are interacting with Chinese people for the first time and are realizing that our governments hate each other but that we can build community/friendship with Chinese people reminds me of a conversation I had with a student of mine.

For context, I taught kids from China how to speak English for 4 years. I had one student named Rain (his English name) from Guangzhou. He was about 9 years old, and I'd been teaching him since the very beginning of his English journey when he only knew very basic vocabulary like vegetables. He got to the point in his language learning where he could use simple words and sentences to talk about more complex subjects.

There was one class we had that I still think about to this day.

"What classes did you have at school today?" I asked. "Math? English? PE?"

"Math yes. English class yes. And... history," he said.

"Oh history? Nice," I said.

"Teacher, I don't like USA a little bit," he said.

"You don't like it? Why?" I asked.

"Because..." he tried to explain before realizing that he didn't have the words he needed to express himself. He switched to miming and drawing the USA fighting with/being mean to China.

"So you don't like the USA because the USA fights China? Hurts China?" I asked for clarification.

"Yes, yes, I don't like it a little bit," he nodded.

"Do you like USA people? I like people from China," I said.

"You like China people?" he asked.

"Yes, I love Chinese people," I said. "I don't like when the USA and China fight, but I love Chinese people."

"Me too!" he said. "Kind of don't like USA, but I like USA people."

In that moment, I was amazed that even with a language barrier, and even with our age difference, we could come to the same conclusion that we didn't like what our countries did to each other, but that didn't mean that he had to hate American people or that I had to hate Chinese people.

"USA people and Chinese people are kind of different," I said, referring to our cultural differences. "We are the same too."

"Yes, kind of the same," he agreed.

That's what many Americans on RedNote/Xiaohongshu are starting to understand better.

[sillysiluriforme]

I love how your Adrien in la terreur is so gnc/nonbinary coded, like even amongst the rest of the sentimonsters he's somehow even more of a creature than them. I'll see your drawings of him with a shaved head and then him with luscious long locks of beautiful hair like Rapunzel and I'm like "Emilie and Gabriel just wanted the perfect child huh. They just didn't specify gender in whatever way." He's like a creature roaming in the forests stealing everyone's gender, or lack there of. He gives off Puck/Peter Pan vibes as well with the forever engrained Pinocchio life he shall live.

If someone’s gender’s been stolen it’s his like im sorry he’s not non binary he’s castrated 😭

No hate though ! ​you definitely picked up on the link between his androgyny (and consequent neoteny) and his lack of personhood.

He doesn’t get to have secondary sexual characteristics because that’d mean puberty, ergo adulthood, ergo autonomy. Growing up being gnc is never a choice for him so he grows to resent it. His story would be very different if he had been a girl.

I fear I may soon have to drop the adrien misogyny comic…

[cubbihue]

Does Mr. Turner like rubbing his “son’s” successful career in Dinkleberg’s face??

He does! He brags about Timmy's success to every person within the neighborhood's vicinity. Mr. Turner loves how successful his son is! It really secures his reputation at the neighborhood HOA meetings they host at their house.

Timmy's worked very hard to gain more successes than failures. The more successful he is, the greater his family's social standing!! And the less he gets to overhear his dad ranting to the neighborhood about his failures.

Bitties Series: [Start] > [Previous] > [Next]

[arcanegifs]

Happy Mother's Day to our Arcane Moms ♡

[bixels]

Jesus man, relax.

[tittyinfinity]

I just remembered that up until 5th grade, all of the sports teams I was in weren't separated by gender. I played basketball and baseball with boys. And we did just fine.

It wasn't until 6th grade when they segregated it by gender. It didn't make sense to me. I was now in softball instead of baseball, because "softball is for girls" and "baseball is for boys" (which confused me bc my dad was on an adult softball team).

Now, my brother's all-male team didn't win a single game. My all-girls team won every single one.

They presented the boys' team with this HUGE trophy, and if you wanted replicas of it, they were $30 each.

My team was presented with a very small trophy. Extras were $5.

That's when I decided gender-segregated sports were bullshit.

[flipflopmasterr]

Happy (early) Halloween folks. Here, have little Billy. rise the saturation for two fun facts on the image, find em.

and him too

[typewriter-worries]

I'm Glad My Mom Died, Jennette McCurdy

[ Text ID: I yearn to know the people I love deeply and intimately—without context, without boxes—and I yearn for them to know me that way, too.]

[lovelyy-moonlight]

New outtakes of Elizabeth Olsen as the Scarlet Witch/Wanda Maximoff.

[kevindavidday]

i just know neil's ass thinks about his father or riko getting shot from time to time like some grounding memory and ends up with a freakish smile on his face (andrew's sad he's deprived of the visuals he'd have loved to see it too)

[demonkinguwu]

Happy Birthday to the only AU Vanessa I have that has a birthday lol

[punkrockmlchael]

66 with Eddie Munson

Masterlist for 100 Follower Celebration!

Thank you for the request! It's currently freezing, snowing and blowing in Michigan so that definitely helped guide me in this direction. (No like literally the real feel right now is -11 degrees Fahrenheit as I'm writing this) (Word Count: 631)

Prompt: Sleep ; Modern AU ; Dad!Eddie Munson x Mom!Reader

You awoke to your alarm blaring throughout the room. You groaned and rolled over, grabbing your cellphone off of the side table. You turned the alarm off quickly and checked your messages, seeing the automated message that your daughter's school was cancelled for the day. You sent a quick text to your boss letting her know you wouldn’t be in since you had to stay home with her and yawned.

You sighed and placed your phone down, laying back in the bed. Your husband, Eddie, stirred next to you, rolling towards you. He moved his body closer to you and wrapped his arm around your waist gently.

“Mm, baby, what time is it?” Eddie asked softly, pulling your body towards his.

“Seven,” you replied, closing your eyes again.

“Not that I’m complaining,” he started, leaving some kisses on the back of your neck. “But, then, why are you still in bed?” He asked softly, his hand moving up and down your arm gently.

“No school,” you sighed, moaning softly at the kisses. “Janis has a snow day because of the weather and I’ve already texted my boss that I won’t be in today.” You replied, snuggling closer to your personal heater.

“Is that so?” He asked, opening his eyes to glance out the window across the room. “Maybe I should text Richard and tell him I’m staying home too, I sincerely doubt anyone will come get an oil change in a blizzard.”

You hummed and nodded, pulling the blanket up higher on your body. “You should,” you mumbled. “We can all have a snow day.”

Eddie nodded and quickly rolled back over to his side of the bed, reaching for his phone. You whined at the loss of heat and snuggled into the blanket more. Eddie sent a quick text to his boss before returning back to you, pulling your body so close to his it was like you were one person.

“You know,” he mumbled, kissing the side of your neck gently, “we could have some fun.”

Just as you were about to reply your bedroom door was thrown open and your lovely five year old ran into the room, yelling. “Mommy! You didn’t get me up.” She pouted, running towards the bed.

You looked at her and yawned. “That’s because you don’t have school princess, there’s too much snow.”

“Yeah, Jan, we all have a snow day. You can go back to bed.” Eddie replied, looking at the little curly haired girl who stood by your bed.

“But, I’m awake now! The sun’s awake so I’m awake,” she whined, stomping her feet slightly.

You sighed, looking up at her. “Come here, Jan,” you said softly, opening up the little blanket burrito you had cocooned yourself in. “Why don’t you come lay with mommy and daddy for a bit.” You suggested, hoping she would.

She stomped her foot once again and sighed, “fine,” she said, walking towards the bed. She crawled under the blanket and nuzzled against your chest, looking up at you. “What now?” She asked softly.

“We go back to bed and then we can make breakfast later.” You yawned, kissing her head.

“How about pancakes?” Eddie suggested sleepily, his hand moving to pull you and Janis closer to him. “And bacon.” He mumbled, knowing those were his daughter’s weaknesses.

“Really?” Janis asked, eyes widening as she lifted her head to look at her dad.

“Mhm,” Eddie nodded, looking at her. “If you go back to bed.”

“Okay, okay!” She giggled, snuggling closer to you. “Night mommy and daddy,” she mumbled, closing her eyes.

“Night sweetheart,” you mumbled, kissing her head again.

“So much for having fun,” Eddie mumbled into your ear, placing another soft kiss on your neck.

“Mhm, that ship sailed five years ago.” You mumbled.

eddie tag list: wanna be added? comment + let me know! @keeryhours ; @the-witty-pen-name

[ohbo-ohno]

I love your work!! Congrats on 1k followers- your fics are amazing💙💙 May I request ‘country house’ and ‘something isn’t right about (setting). Something is off.’ ? Maybe with Price x reader please? (-:

1k game here - no more please!

i have an unreasonably difficult time thinking of a "something's off" for these prompts. but we write on nonetheless!

1.1k of price being your young daughter's "imaginary" friend. fair warning, this one doesn't have an actual price appearance, it's mostly just vibes. (cw for implied stalking/haunting, no smut!)

The big country house is your dream home.

It had come when you most needed it - your sister had finally gotten tired of letting you and your five year old couch surf and kicked you out with no warning, leaving you with only your car to live in and no prospects.

You'd been driving through a tiny town, only even heard about the house because of a kind waitress who took pity on you when you told her about your situation. She introduced you to her younger sister, a local realtor who'd recently marked down a nice family home to practically nothing because she couldn't get it to sell.

It had seemed too good to be true, honestly. The house is a grand thing - two stories, a wraparound porch, relatively new appliances. The price you paid - you negotiated down - was practically pennies.

But you don't have the privilege of questioning your blessings with a little one relying on you. So you tell yourself that this is just good karma, and you get yourself moved into the home as quickly as possible.

It's weeks later, from that same waitress, that you learn why the house was so cheap. Apparently a local man had been murdered there only a few months ago - a robbery gone wrong, if your source is to be believed, and an apparently very violent death for the poor man living there alone.

It certainly changes the way you feel in the house, knowing that something so horrible happened less than a year ago. The house still feels the same, but you look at it with the knowledge of who might've been there before.

You're... well, you're very lonely these days. You work long hours at home, holed up in your home office, responding to emails and sitting on calls all day. You only really leave to drop off your daughter and to pick her up, or if she wants to go somewhere in the city. If it were up to you, you'd never leave your new property.

And the house isn't small - you've never lived in a multiple story house, let alone one with no one else there. You can never fully shake the paranoia that someone else could be in the house with you, and you'd never know.

You remind yourself that you need to get a dog as soon as you can afford one, and try to wipe the nervousness from your mind.

When summer hits, you and your daughter spend most of your days at home. The house came with quite a bit of land, more than enough for a little five year old to amuse herself with on a nice summer day. You find that you enjoy sitting on the back porch with a cool drink and a book, keeping one eye on the story and another on your daughter while she plays with her dolls.

She doesn't have many friends. You'd worry, but she's always been a happy girl, and she doesn't seem to have any sort of social issues. You don't have the money to get her to a doctor, so you comfort yourself with the idea that she's just a shy child.

So you spend your summer, just the two of you. You spend an almost regrettable amount of time in your office with the door open so you can hear if something goes wrong, but you watch the small nest-egg grow in your bank account, and you tell yourself you'll make it up to your little girl by spoiling her later.

You only start to grow truly concerned about midway through the summer, when your daughter comes to you and tells you about an imaginary friend.

"John says we should play outside today," she says over breakfast one morning, casual as can be between mouthfuls of pancake.

"What's that, honey?" You ask, only half paying attention as you mix another batch.

"John wants to go outside. He's says it's a nice day. He doesn't like that you stay inside so much."

That makes you pause, turning to look over at your daughter. She's never known a John in her life. You have no idea where this is coming from.

"Who's John, sweetheart?"

"My friend," she replies, swinging her legs above the floor, happy as can be. "He was here first. We play together when you're workin'."

You blink at her a little dumbly. You know, logically, that John must be an imaginary friend - someone her little five year old mind has conjured in all her hours alone in the big house. But still, your simmering paranoia about there being someone else in the house spikes.

"Have I ever met John, honey?"

"Nuh-uh," she giggles a little, looking at you with an expression that says silly mommy. "John's not really there, mommy. That's why I gotta take everything outside."

You nod a little, your worry assuaged. It's just an imaginary friend - a perfectly normal kid thing.

"Well," you hum, turning to the skillet to start on your own pancakes. "I wouldn't mind working on the porch today, baby. You and John can play outside all you want."

It should be just that. It is just that.

Except... the idea of an imaginary friend eats at you.

As the pieces start connecting you tell yourself that you've spent too much time alone in this big old house. You tell yourself you need to get out, to find communities for both you and your baby to get involved with.

But the dots still connect.

You think of all the times you've heard your daughter start crying in the middle of the night, only for her to be giggling by the time you get to her room. You think of the night you were sure you left the stove on (you'd planned to make brownies, but gotten distracted while the oven preheated) only to find it completely turned off when you rushed downstars.

You think of the full conversations your sweet baby girl tells about John. She tells you he's tall, with a big beard, and a funny hat. She says he's got a nice voice and soft hands. She says he tells her bedtime stories, and that he has a funny accent.

You sit on the porch one night, and the back door opens behind you. Instead of the sound of small feet pattering towards you, there's silence. The door closes another moment later.

Your daughter tells you that John thinks you should spend more time with them - not her, with them.

The bed is made one day when you're sure you hadn't bothered in the morning. You'd been overwhelmed with work, had been too stressed to bother tucking in your comforter. When you go to bed that night, it's perfectly made with almost military precision.

You watch from the porch as your daughter giggles with her doll, dancing the little toy through the air and talking to nothing. You blow a cool breath over your mug, and tell yourself there's nothing there.

That night, there's a spot of warmth in your bed when you lay down to sleep.