#Quinn Lore

[quinn-borel]

“…’Twould be remiss of me to deny you that.” he whispered, “I will provide you the safest home. And I will love you for as long as my heart beats in my breast.”

[carnylane]

🤡 genuinely why are you scared of clowns?

“It’s not important.”

[wombywoo]

geared up ⚔︎

[neon-medusae]

smoll bean of a defenseman

[capquinn]

I know we’ve already seen when they tell bug she’s gonna be a big sister but can we get something where she meets her new baby sibling for the first time 🥹🥹

crying bc buggy would be so in awe and in love and just so sweet with him!!!!!

The drive back to the hospital had been quiet, save for the soft hum of the engine and Bug’s little voice every now and then from the backseat. She’d been unusually still, her hands resting in her lap, her gaze fixed out the window. Quinn glanced at her through the rearview mirror, catching the furrow in her brow that always meant she was thinking hard about something.

“You doing okay back there, Bug?” he asked gently, his voice cutting through the silence.

She nodded, her curls bouncing, but her lips stayed pressed together. After a beat, she asked, “daddy, is mommy okay?”

The question made his chest tighten, but in the way that made him love her even more. Her little heart was so big, always so full.

“She’s okay,” he said, offering her a smile in the mirror. “She’s really excited to see you. And to introduce you to your baby brother.”

Bug’s eyes lit up at that, her small fingers tugging at the straps of her car seat as she sat up straighter. “Do you think he’ll like me?”

Quinn’s heart ached. “Oh, Bug,” he said softly, his grip on the wheel tightening slightly. “He’s going to love you. You’re his big sister, the coolest person he’s ever going to meet.”

Her little smile spread across her face, but she quickly pressed her hands over her mouth like she was trying to hold it in, like she was keeping the excitement bottled up for when she finally saw you.

When they arrived, Quinn unbuckled her and swung her up into his arms, her legs wrapping tightly around his waist as she clung to him. Her small face tucked against his neck, and he could feel her tiny breaths warm against his skin as he carried her through the hospital halls. The elevator ride was quiet, her head leaning on his shoulder, but as they approached the room, she lifted her head, her wide eyes scanning the door in front of them.

“Okay, Bug,” he murmured, pausing to adjust her on his hip before pushing the door open. “Remember, we have to be extra quiet. mommy’s tired, and your baby brother’s really little, so we have to be gentle.”

She nodded solemnly, her curls brushing his jaw as she leaned forward to get a better look at the room.

“I’ll be so gentle,” she promised in a whisper, her tiny hands gripping the front of his shirt.

The door swung open, and Quinn stepped inside, the soft light of the afternoon casting a golden glow over the room. You were propped up against the pillows, your hair still slightly mussed, but to him, you looked radiant. In your arms, cradled in a blanket so soft it looked like a cloud, was his son. The baby’s tiny face was scrunched in sleep, his little fists tucked close to his chest, utterly oblivious to the world around him.

“Mommy!” Bug’s voice burst out in excitement, cutting through the stillness of the room. She squirmed in Quinn’s arms, her little legs kicking slightly as she reached out toward you.

Quinn chuckled softly, his chest tightening at the sight of her sheer joy. “Hey, hang on,” he said, his voice warm. “Let’s take it slow.”

You looked up at them, a tired but glowing smile spreading across your face.

“Hi, Lovebug,” you said, your voice a little hoarse but filled with so much love it made Quinn’s throat tighten. “Did you have fun with Nana and Grandpa?”

Bug nodded enthusiastically, but her focus wasn’t on you — it was on the tiny bundle in your arms. Her little brows furrowed, her head tilting as she studied him.

“Is that him?” she asked in a whisper, her voice suddenly so small.

“That’s him,” you said softly, adjusting the blanket slightly so she could see better. “This is your baby brother.”

Bug’s breath hitched audibly, a sound so soft yet so full of awe it tugged at Quinn’s heart. She squirmed in his arms, her little body wriggling with impatient energy as her wide eyes stayed fixed on you and the tiny bundle nestled in your arms.

“Alright, alright,” Quinn murmured, his tone gentle and amused as he stepped closer to the bed. “Hold on, Bug. Let me get you there.”

He placed her carefully beside you, her little hands clutching at his shirt until she was settled. She immediately curled into your side, her small frame pressing against you as her wide eyes stayed locked on her new baby brother. Her fingers hovered near the edge of his blanket, hesitant but eager, her expression filled with a mix of curiosity and wonder that made Quinn’s chest ache with affection.

He stayed standing at first, watching the three of you with a feeling he couldn’t quite name. His chest felt too full, like it couldn’t contain all the love spilling out of it. And after a moment, he walked over and sat on the edge of the bed, close enough to rest his arm along the back of the headboard near your shoulder.

“What do you think, Bug?” he asked, his voice quiet.

Her lips pursed in thought, and for a moment, she said nothing. Then, finally, she nodded decisively.

“He’s… small,” she announced, her tone serious in the way only a three-year-old could manage.

Quinn’s gaze softened as he watched Bug studying her baby brother, his heart swelling with an overwhelming mix of emotions. She was three now — three — and it felt like only yesterday he had been cradling her in his arms for the first time, marveling at how small she was. He had never imagined that he would blink and find her so grown up, full of personality and curiosity. And now, here she was, meeting her baby brother for the first time, with all the wonder and awe that came with such an important milestone in their family.

You couldn’t help but laugh. “He is,” you agreed, your smile widening as you glanced at Quinn, who was already chuckling softly. You could see it in his eyes. That shared understanding — the memories of holding Bug in your arms when she was just a tiny, delicate thing, and now seeing her so incredibly in love with her baby brother — it was a lot to take in. “You were this small once upon a time.”

Bug’s eyes widened at that, her attention darting back to the tiny baby in your arms. She tilted her head slightly, as though trying to imagine herself that small, and then, after a quiet moment of thought, her hand crept forward, pausing just above the soft blanket.

She glanced up at you with hopeful eyes. “Can I hold him?” she whispered, her voice barely louder than the sound of her breath.

You and Quinn exchanged a look, a silent question and answer passing between you, laced with all the unspoken weight of what this moment meant. His lips curved into a soft, reassuring smile, the kind that said he understood without either of you needing to say a word. Already, he was moving, scooting closer to the edge of the bed with a quiet grace, his body naturally angling toward you and Bug, as if instinctively creating space for the moment to unfold.

“C’mere, Bug,” he said, his voice warm and encouraging, a little crooked smile tugging at his lips.

Bug didn’t wait for a second invitation. She wriggled out from beside you and climbed eagerly into Quinn’s lap, her legs swinging against his. His arms came around her securely, grounding her in his hold as though he could bottle this moment forever.

It was important — more than just Bug meeting her baby brother. It was a shift in your little world, the moment your eldest stepped into her new role, and Quinn, steady as ever, was there to guide her through it. The tenderness in his movements, the way his hand rested lightly on Bug’s back, spoke volumes. This wasn’t just an introduction; it was a promise, one that tied all four of you together.

“You gotta be real gentle, okay?” he told her, leaning his chin slightly over her shoulder so he could see her face. “We don’t want to squish him.”

Bug nodded solemnly, her little hands folding neatly in her lap, her little body radiating the kind of serious pride that only a three-year-old could manage. “I’ll be careful,” she promised.

With practiced hands, you adjusted the blanket around your baby boy, leaning forward slowly, deliberately, to pass him into Quinn’s waiting arms. Bug’s small hands reached out instinctively, one of them resting lightly on her brother’s tiny chest, her touch featherlight yet brimming with responsibility.

Her breath hitched audibly, her wide eyes fixed on the tiny bundle cradled in Quinn’s hands. She leaned closer. “I can feel him breathing,” she whispered, her voice full of awe, as though the quiet rise and fall beneath her palm was the most extraordinary thing in the world.

Quinn’s arms tightened slightly around her, his hold steady as he adjusted the baby in his hands to make sure both his children were perfectly safe.

“Pretty amazing, huh?” Quinn said softly, his voice tinged with awe as he watched Bug’s expression shift to something so purely tender it made his chest ache.

It was the moment he and you had both dreamt about from the second you found out another little one was on the way. The image of your eldest meeting her baby sibling had played in his mind a hundred different ways, but now that it was here — Bug so carefully holding her tiny brother as if he were the most precious thing in the world — it was almost overwhelming.

His throat tightened slightly, and he blinked against the sudden gloss in his eyes. Nothing dramatic, nothing that would draw attention, but enough to remind him just how much his heart could hold. He shifted his arm around Bug a little tighter, grounding himself in the warmth of her small frame, in the soft hum of her quiet breaths.

When his gaze flicked to you, your eyes met, full of the same quiet emotion he felt in his chest. Your smile was soft, a little teary, as though you were both silently saying, we did this — we made this family. And for a moment, he couldn’t help but lean in and press a kiss to the top of Bug’s head, his hand adjusting slightly to cradle his son closer.

“Best big sister in the world,” he murmured, his voice just a little thicker than usual. Bug didn’t even look up, her entire focus still on her brother and his tiny, perfect features, but her small, proud smile said she’d heard him loud and clear.

“He smells nice,” she stated after a moment, glancing at Quinn like she needed his approval for the observation.

Quinn chuckled, leaning forward to press another kiss to her hair. “Yeah, he does. Babies are magic like that.”

You laughed quietly, watching the two of them together with your heart so full it almost hurt. “He’s so lucky to have you," you said, reaching out to brush a strand of hair behind her ear.

Bug beamed at that, the pride lighting up her face almost too much for her small body to contain.

For Quinn, this was everything. His whole world — right there in his arms.

[missingpolinseason]

I don't know who needs to hear it, but Julia Quinn doesn't pitch women against each other. Shondaland's writers do.

Daphne and Cressida never competed because of man - in fact, in the "The Duke and I" book it's actually one of Colin's friends who sees Daphne and Simon in the garden. Penelope and Cressida never competed for a man.

Kate and Edwina (and Mary) have one of the healthiest family relationships I've ever seen. There's no fights, and definitely no quarrel because of Anthony. Edwina is so happy for Kate and Anthony when they are forced to marry and always stays by her sister side as she never had real fealings for him. Not to mention that Kate and Pen became really good friends as both are wallflowers at the sideways of the ballrooms. Book Kate even confess she falls in love with Anthony when he stands up for Pen after Cressida's bullying.

Sophie becames friends with her stepsister Posy (who is treated by her mother similar to the way Portia treats Penelope). Posy even ends up living with the Bridgertons before marrying a vicar.

Lady Danbury is Penelope's friend and number one supporter. Polin names their first daughter - in the books - Agatha after her.

Pen and Eloise never fight (nor break their friendship) and Eloise is so proud of Penelope for being Lady Whistledown. Their friendship is so strong that Pen is the one to find out El's whereabouts when she runnaways to Phillip's house in her book. Eloise and Phillip's first daughter is named Penelope.

In the show, every female relationship is destroyed by some fight (most of the times related to a man) or doesn't exist at all. Pen and Kate barely meet or talk. Edwina is in love with Anthony. Mary puts to much pressure in Kate. Pen and Lady Danbury's friendiship was never explored... Now Rosamound (Sophie's stepsister) is supposed to be interest in Benedict when in the books her mother, Araminta, mentions once that she should go for a Bridgerton - most likely because they're a rich and influential family rather than a desire for her daughter to marry an actual Bridgerton).

But somehow, the only actual mean girl in Julia Quiss' books, Cressida Cowper, gets her actions justifyed because of her family situation . She get's to have a friend in Eloise and get's to share some of Pen's spotlight in the one that was supposed her season. Seems unfair, when even Marina - that we only know post mortem in the books - got a plot with unplaned pregnace; planed entrapment and lies*....

*This is not a critic to Marina's character, I am barely pointing what the show did to her in the list with everything else.

[quinngefail]

Ik you’ve been told this before but i’m gonna tell you again, i fucking LOVE the way you draw Adam, and just your artstyle in general, it’s just like- so charming, everytime you post a drawing with Adam in it i wanna reach through the screen and grab him like this

Live your dreams then :)

But be Careful..... He is quite vitchous (literally beat a man to death and it really wasn't funny at all to be very honest)

In all seriousness though THANK YOUUU HEHEHEE YOU ARE TOO KIND 😭

[maxz-b]

nhl as vaguely upsetting textposts; a god must feed 2/???

[glitter-stained]

So much could be said about the depiction of mental illness (and chronic psychophobia and ableism in dc) but here are the sparknotes:

ACCORDING TO DC!!!:

> Some people (not all!) are born with a genetic factor which we will call gene X. Gene X has two possible variants: evil potential and hero potential. The X gene is dormant, and will only activate when environmental factors brutally shake the neural system, aka in highly traumatic situations. A person with the hero variant, upon being traumatized, may trigger a biopsychosocial chain reaction that will lead to them dressing up in unusual costumes and fighting crime, while a person with the villain variant, in the same situation, may go from a normal person to a crazy mass murderer in the laps of a day.

> The presence of the evil factor has been shown to be correlated with poverty, ethnicity (higher prevalence in non-caucasian populations), queer identity/sexuality, amongst other factors (which could mean nothing). Please note that this is not a causation, as traumatized people with these characters can still be bearers of the hero factor.

> Some researchers have theorised that the nature of trauma may play a role (though results are not yet conclusive across all data). Specifically, being upset/not able to get over trauma that hurt us specifically is associated with an increased risk of becoming a crazy evil mass murderer, while trauma associated with grief/watching other people get hurt is associated with heroism. This is probably because of the inherent weakness of getting hurt and selfishness of being upset about it, VS the inherent nobility of being upset about other people, especially your loved ones, getting hurt. Furthermore, amidst people who have trauma happen directly to their person, the evil and hero variants allow us to distinguish between two cohorts: the hero variants, who will either not complain about their trauma nor mention it or get over it in a manner that doesn't upset the established system too much, and the bad victims, who challenge the system that allowed them to get hurt instead of understanding that it was their fault, actually; these people also happen to be crazy murderers, so it's fine.

>A correlation has been shown between bearers of the X gene and a higher occurrence of trauma. In bearers of the evil variant, this is known as the "doomed from the start" effect, or "natural born killers".

>In extreme situations, there exists a risk of contamination from the evil variant: specifically, if someone with the X gene kills a particularly intense and virulant evil crazy mass murderer, this crazy murderer may release spores that will contaminate the killer's cells and turn their hero variant into an evil variant and activate it.

In conclusion: please talk to actual therapists and trauma specialists before writing about trauma and psychological disorders before your world building begins to look like that. And no, reading Freud does not count. (You should have stayed in school, Scotty.)

[quinn-borel]

I would like you to write a fic about Quinn taking care of her son Hauchefant.

“Remember not to have too much coffee, my lady.” the steward reminded Quinn as she was about to pour herself another cup from the carafe.  She frustratingly tapped her finger on the table as she pulled back—he was right, but she needed that extra bit of juice to get her morning started.  The previous night had been a late one as per usual, and unlike her husband, she was far from a morning person.  The steward instead offered to pour her a glass of water, which she could enjoy with her eggs and toast.  

“Thank you.” she said with a bitter smile, her tired eyes following the steward as he excused himself from the breakfast nook with the coffee carafe in hand—no longer would she be tempted to exceed her one-cup limit for the morning.  As usual, the eggs were fluffy and flavorful and the toast, crunchy to perfection, just the way she liked it.  It only took the house Borel steward a few weeks to make her breakfast the way Aymeric made it for her on days he didn’t have to attend early morning meetings.  It was quite impressive.  Though it would have been more enjoyable to share the meal with her husband, who hastily said his farewells as she was getting herself dressed.  He, too, admittedly slept in due to their elongated night.  

“Did milord eat breakfast this morning?” she called to the steward, who poked his head back into the nook,

“Unfortunately, he did not.  Though, I presume he will return ‘round the noon hour for a meal.”

“Gods, I hope so.” she sighed, “He’s been running himself ragged.”  The steward had no retort as he went back to his duties.  Quinn lost her appetite upon hearing that Aymeric, once again, skipped breakfast due to his station.  The practice was becoming all-to-common for her liking, yet it pained her to have to lecture him once more while she had the luxury of staying at home for the time being.  The lady of the house stood up from the table and abandoned her plate, leaving half a piece of toast and a quarter of her eggs to the side, a choice she would later regret.  

Quinn made her way down the main hall towards the western wing of the house.  Although she had no plans for the day involving anything outside the house, she couldn’t help but to be lost in thought as she calculated her plans for the day.

“Oh, I didn’t have tea with someone today, did I?” she muttered, “I really need to buy a planner or something to write these things down.  Oh, but then I have to go to the Crozier to find one.  It’s been snowing a lot lately, and I’d rather not take him out in the cold just to get a notebook.  Perhaps I can ask Aym to buy me one?  No, he should really be home to rest...”

Admittedly, she found herself bound to the house for the foreseeable future, especially as winter roared in with its nasty weather as it so loved to do.  While Ishgard was an eternal winter scape, when the Eorzean calendar read the beginnings of the sixth umbral moon every resident knew that it was winter winter.   She would just have to hunker down and wait it out…

…at least she wasn’t alone during the day anymore.

Five moons prior, Quinn had given birth to her and Aymeric’s son, lovingly named Haurchefant de Borel.  He was born a healthy weight with this father’s eyes and his mother’s complexion, with an infectious smile and laughter that could fill a room.  He was their pride and joy, and undoubtedly a symbol of their love.  

Opening the door to their room, Quinn felt the stress of the early morning lift from her shoulders as she heard Haurchefant babbling in his bassinet.  While he may have been the reason she was up so late the night before, Quinn was elated to see him up and about.  At least, as about as a five month old could be.

“Looks like someone is finally awake.” she giggled as she approached Haurchefant’s crib, which sat in the corner of her and Aymeric’s room while his true room was being redecorated.  The little one stared at his mother curiously for a moment before smiling and kicking his feet in excitement—at least, kicking as much as he could while swaddled in his layered onesie.  Quinn leaned over his cot, gently touching her fingertip to the tip of his nose, “Good morning, my little lord.”

Haurchefant giggled in response as he reached for his mother’s hand.  Upon grasping her finger, his other hand went to his mouth as he looked at her almost expectantly.  The hand that touched his mouth flailed a bit more before touching his mouth again.  She knew exactly what that meant.

“Is my little Haurchie hungry?” she cooed playfully, “My smart little man knows how to tell me that he is, doesn’t he?”

He nearly slapped his mouth in protest, brow furrowed as if his signal did nothing to her since there was no milk in sight.  But Quinn knew better than to make her little guy wait, immediately lifting him out of the bassinet and bringing him over to the rocking chair in the opposite corner of the room,

“I can’t wait until you’re in your own room, it’s crowded in here.” she lamented as her gaze fell to all the baby necessities littered in the once-spacious master bedroom.  But, soon he would be old enough to be in his own room…and maybe she and Aymeric could finally get some decent sleep.  

Haurchefant fussed as there was still no sign of milk, a tiny whine coming from his mouth in frustration.  How could she be so cruel?  He was hungry, and he was hungry now.  Even if he was picked up, which he loved, he still wasn’t getting anything to eat!  Impatient as he was, the babe began to fuss even louder, despite his mother sitting down and positioning herself for a comfortable feeding time for the both of them.

“Now, now…” Quinn bit her lip a bit, trying not to raise her voice as he began to whine louder.  She gently hushed him as she slid down one side of her dress, exposing her breast just before the infant had a full-on tantrum.  Bringing the babe to her bosom, Haurchefant quickly latched on to her nipple and began to nurse…as if he wasn’t fed just a few hours beforehand.  Quinn sighed and leaned back a bit, holding her son in the optimal position so that he could have his breakfast without any disruption.   

Finally, some food!

“I’m still so glad you don’t have teeth yet.” she muttered,  “…To the bottle with you when that happens.”

Of course the baby was unfazed by his mother’s promise to bottle feed him if he bit her, he was too busy focusing on his own morning routine.  The little boy had his own day ahead of him—breakfast with mom, some burping, a walk around the house, and then that dreaded tummy time…but somewhere in there, lunch! And dinner! And a snack, maybe?  It was a tight schedule, with little room to let his mother do much for herself.  Though he would certainly let her know if she was slacking in her duties.

With a yawn, Quinn sat back in her chair and did what she could to keep her eyes open.  With the vision of her son fading in an out, she used her free hand to tap her cheek in an attempt to fully wake.  She wondered if Aymeric faired the same, sitting at his desk looming over paperwork with his eyelids drooping from the lack of sleep.  She could not quite recall the last time each of them had a full night’s rest…maybe five months ago, she assumed.  

Yet even with tired eyes, the moment she looked down at her suckling babe she couldn’t help but to beam with delight.  That was her boy; her little baby boy.  Sure, he had a habit of wailing and crying at night and fussed throughout the day, but those moments were miniscule compared to the quiet moments where he bonded with his mother like so.  Or, the moments when he giggled and smiled up at his father, both sharing the same bright, blue eyes and wavy black hair.  

Quinn could still recount the moment Aymeric held their son for the first time–how he wept with joy, praising Halone for such a healthy boy and thanking his wife for giving him such a blessing.  The pair were nearly inseparable until the little one cried out for his first meal.  Of course, Aymeric would soon have to return to his duties, leaving the babe in the care of Quinn for most of the day.  But for sure, upon his return home every night after kissing his wife he would take his son into his arms once more, giving Quinn her much-needed break.

“All done?” she asked curiously as Haurchefant nuzzled his head against her, softly smacking his lips together with quite the bit of milk dribbling out of his mouth.  As per their routine, she pulled the babe up and near her shoulder, patting him on the back until the softest belch came out of him.  And then some…

“Y-yeah, you’re done.”

 “b-buhb ba…”

“I’m glad you’re full.” she giggled, pressing her lips to his cheek  before returning him to his bassinet for a moment.  

But, oh, he wouldn’t have that.  While his mother was fixing her dress back to the way it was, he was determined to get her attention once again.  A loud screech came from the bassinet as he kicked as best as he could through his swaddle, Quinn wincing slightly before she got the hint.

“Alright, alright.” she cooed as she once again lifted him up and into her arms.  He squealed with delight, his smile brightening up the room as he looked at his mother with adoration.  Quinn began to sway with him in her arms, humming softly before pressing another kiss to his forehead.

“Well come and well met, my brave little spark…” she hummed, “how long you’ve wandered, burned bright as a star…”

The babe grinned as his mother sang to him, a hand reaching up to touch her face which she allowed as she lowered her head to kiss her son once more,

“Oh, I have awaited you patiently all this time...”

And she continued to sing and sing, lulling her baby into a calming sleep until she was able to place him back into the bassinet without worry of a tantrum.  Upon her final verse, she sat herself on her bed, eyes slowly closing as she hummed,

“…for this journey’s end...is but one step forward to...tomorrow…”

And with a final note, Quinn fell back asleep.

An early morning nap between mother and child never hurt anyone.

[carnylane]

((In case anyone wants to see the freaky ass clown doll Quinn keeps in his room

He stole it from the kids entertainment place that traumatized him because they don’t even use Claus anymore he’s just a retired character and they don’t even notice the doll is gone. He talks to it sometimes because he’s schizophrenic idk it’s his favorite character from the franchise it still creeps him out but it’s his “friend” he can’t really say much about Norman’s thing with his mother tbh))

[wombywoo]

Introduction to Quinncent 101: a small guide for you all 🤗

[shyjusticewarrior]

Fun facts about Harley Quinn

She smells like cotton candy (Catwoman 2018 #43)

She loves motels (Catwoman 2018 #43)

She loves coffee, but says only psychopaths drink black coffee (Harley Quinn vol 1: No Good Deed)

Harley once brought Batman a black coffee (Harley Quinn vol 1: Girl In A Crisis)

Her favorite pie is pumpkin with whip cream (Harley Quinn: Black + White + Redder #2)

She lived with Cassandra Cain for 10 days (Harley Quinn and the Birds of Prey: the Hunt For Harley)

When she was in school, she did a PowerPoint presentation on metaphors in vampire literature (Harley Quinn vol 4: Task Force XX)

She doesn't have a spleen (Harley Quinn 2021 #38)

She went on a date with Hush disguised as Bruce Wayne but ultimately rejected him cause she wasn't ready to be a step mom (Gotham City Sirens 2009 #4)

[thedarkzyxabyss]

Finally worked up the courage to actually post about OC lore via animatic! Go check it out!!

You may find out more stuff about tv who knows

[capquinn]

Does Quinn go overboard and spoil the kids with giant presents for Christmas? I know they probably will always have more than the average kid for everything but he seems very levelheaded and doesn’t want to raise his kids in a mindset of getting anything and everything they want just because their dad is Quinn.

Nah I don't think he would. Quinn strikes me as the kind of dad who’d be thoughtful and intentional about the way he approaches Christmas — and parenting in general, honestly.

He’d never want his kids to grow up with the mindset that they can have everything just because they're able to. He’d make sure they understand the value of what they have, the meaning behind the holidays, and the joy of giving as much as receiving.

Sure, there’d be the fun, flashy toys they’d been talking about for months — the Bluey playhouse Bug wouldn’t stop mentioning or the Paw Patrol set Cub kept pointing to in commercials — but there’d always be a layer of thoughtfulness underneath.

The bigger gifts would have purpose beyond just the joy of unwrapping. Things like a soccer net for the backyard, something that would get them outside as a family on sunny afternoons, or maybe new skates so they could practice gliding across the ice together. It wouldn’t just be about stuff but about creating moments. The kind that turn into memories.

Even the smaller gifts would have meaning. A new set of paints and brushes for Bug, who’d been fascinated by colours lately, or blocks for Cub to stack and tumble over as he giggles at his little triumphs. Every gift, big or small, would be tied to what makes his kids light up, encouraging their interests, creativity, and, most importantly, time spent together.

Because for Quinn, it’s not just about giving his kids everything they want. It’s about teaching them the joy of shared experiences, of giving thoughtfully, and of appreciating the moments that come with each gift — whether it’s their giggles during a backyard soccer game, Bug’s serious little face as she paints, or Cub’s excitement as he crawls around the inside of the soccer net after the ball. For him, those are the true gifts.

And when they’re old enough, he’d absolutely instill the act of giving back. Every December, he’d encourage the kids to go through their old toys, explaining how there are children who might not have as much as they do. It wouldn’t be a chore but more of a tradition, one that builds empathy and kindness.

He’d make it feel special, not like giving something up but like sharing something wonderful. Bug would sit cross-legged on her bedroom floor, surrounded by stacks of toys she’s outgrown, while Cub sits nearby, babbling curiously at the scene.

Quinn crouches beside them, his tone gentle and encouraging. “This one could make another kid really happy,” he’d say, holding up a well-loved doll, his warm smile reassuring Bug as she carefully considers.

Bug nods after a moment, placing the doll into the donation box with the careful determination of a little girl who’s taking her job very seriously. Cubby, always eager to mimic his big sister, babbles excitedly and reaches for a toy car to drop in, though it’s not quite one for the box yet.

“It’s like sharing Christmas magic,” Quinn adds, ruffling Cubby’s soft hair as Bug beams at his words.

When the box is full, he’d scoop Cub up and take Bug by the hand, letting them come along to drop it off at the second hand toy drive.

He's just the type of dad who always gives his kids a magical holiday while keeping their feet firmly planted on the ground, and honestly? It’s impossible not to love him even more for it.

[hughesybear]

View this post on Instagram

A post shared by nucko (@nucksmemes)

thinking about how in 2022 @/nucksmemes on Instagram got an ass tattoo of Quinn’s number and Quinn liked the post + commented this