#just some family fluff

[cc-cobalt-1043]

Weekends:

Pretty much what they get up to at the weekend:

Tom: assuming he doesn't have work he'll usually have a lie in accompanied with a nice breakfast, maybe take Ozzie for a walk assuming the kids haven't already done so, he'll either chill and do odd things around the house or go to the gym for a few hours, plus take the boys out and have some fun, to top off the evening he'll get some doughnuts for a movie night (Sonic, Tails and Maddie tease him relentlessly about It)

Maddie: she usually wakes up fairly early on the morning but it gives her a chance to do plenty yoga, assuming the boys haven't breakfast either she or Tom will cook something, she usually works a few hours on the weekend but comes home fairly early, either she or Tom will go shopping with one or all of the boys, she and the family then all relax and after supper will collapse on the couch together to watch a movie

Knuckles: Knuckles is often an early riser but not as bad as he used to be, he will often do Yoga with Maddie, sometimes Sonic joins in but he often sleeps in much later at the weekend, after Maddie has left and he has had breakfast (typically consisting of grapes and other fruits) he will usually go to the gym with Tom or on the days he decides to stay home he usually stays with Sonic who tries to culture him with the movies of Earth, he often assists Maddie with the shopping as he is "one million percent muscle", he often likes to meditate as well by putting a pair of headphones and playing nature sounds, that or he'll actually go into the forrest to do so, he'll often join the others for movie night

Sonic: often sleeps in at the weekend (I mean what kid doesn't), sometimes when he wakes up early he'll either join Maddie and Knuckles for Yoga or just sit and watch something on the TV, he and Tails often help Maddie in the kitchen with breakfast (Sonic is a decent cook but needs practice), Sonic often likes to simply watch movies and play games at the weekends and he does his chores in 2 seconds flat (literally), he and Tails sometimes go with Tom or Maddie or they usually just walk around town looking for something to do, at the end of the day he is always the most excited for movie night and makes sure Tails has a comfy seat next to him so his little brother could cuddle up if he wanted to (which Tails often does)

Tails: Tails will often sleep in like Sonic and by the time he wakes up breakfast is either ready or about to be made, he along with Sonic will often help our where they can with the cooking (Tails absolutely loves pancakes and waffles), he'll usually tinker with his inventions for a while and also watch TV and play games with Sonic and sometimes Knuckles, Tails and Sonic often like to explore the town and usually end up getting into some crazy shenanigans, Tails and Knuckles often help out with the shopping and he and Sonic with cooking it, after a nice long bath (he absolutely loves baths as they make his furr so fluffy) he and the others all sit on the couch and enjoy a movie (Tails will usually cuddle up with the closest person and relax, sometimes with long movies he'll fall asleep near the end and Maddie or Tom carry him to bed)

Bonus:

Sonic when someone wakes him up during a weekend nap: *groans* it's 2:30 in the afternoon, people are trying to sleep

[feyhunter78]

The Dowager Queen (4/?)

Description: Rhaenyra shares the news of her marriage to Harwin with Alicent, and both women spend time with their firstborns

Previous chapter, next chapter

“I wish to marry Harwin, what do you think?” Rhaenyra asked, not even glancing up from the reports in front of her.

Alicent paused in her perusing of the smallfolk requests and looked at Rhaenyra. “Beg pardon?”

“I wish to marry Harwin. To legitimize my children.” Rhaenyra said, setting down her quill and meeting Alicent’s eyes.

“So Harwin truly is their father.” She said carefully, unsure if she wished to hear the truth or not.

“He is the father of the child I now carry.” Rhaenyra said, a shy smile tugging at her lips.

“You are with child?” Alicent asked, excitement rushing through her veins.

Rhaenyra nodded, breaking into a full smile. “I am, and this one will surely be a girl.”

Alicent settled her excitement, remembering that she is Hand of the Queen now, no longer just her companion. “If you are with Sir Harwin’s child, then it would be prudent to marry him quickly. I can speak with the kitchen staff and see if they can plan—”

“It has already been done. Before the Godswood, last night. I wished you to be the first to know.”

Alicent could’ve fainted. “Rhaenyra, you must come to me before such rash actions, I am your hand, this is information it is imperative I am aware of.”

Rhaenyra reached across the table and took her hand. “I am sorry, Alicent, it was a moment of passion, and…love.”

For a moment, Alicent’s mind-eye flickered to Sir Criston. How he had walked with her around the room as she labored, and how he comforted her after every act of violation made by Viserys, after every painful birth, how he had held her as she sobbed over Viserys’ corpse.

“Do not be angry with me, my dearest friend. If it truly is a girl, then I shall take your name as her middle name.”

Alicent squeezed Rhaenyra’s hand. “I would be honored, but you still must promise me you will make no other rash decisions without first informing me.”

“I promise.”

Alicent stood behind Aegon, a bottle of sweet scented oil on the vanity. She poured a small amount into her palm, then began to apply it to his wet hair, taking care not to tug or pull his locks on accident.

She could feel his eyes on her, watching as she followed the same steps she took every night with her own hair, applying them to his.

They had spent more time together as of late. Helaena was often with her betrothed, and Aemond took to the skies with Lucerys whenever they both had a free moment. It reminded her of how it was before, when it was only her and Aegon.

“Mother?” He asked quietly, his eyes meeting hers in the mirror. They looked so much like Rhaenyra’s, a thought that used to haunt her, but now brought a smile to her face. Perhaps one day her children would no longer be compared to Viserys, they would instead be praised for their closeness in appearance to their sister.

“Yes, Aegon?” She paused in her scrunching of his hair, an act meant to coax his curls back to life.

“What am I to do now? I am not heir, nor am I a great warrior.” His cheeks tinted pink, and he dropped his gaze. “I have heard the whispers, the people think I am a wastrel, a nuisance.”

A pang in her chest. “My son…”

He shook his head. “I am not asking for pity.”

She put her hands on his shoulders and squeezed them lightly. “There are many things you might still become. You are still young.”

“Rhaenyra became heir when she five and ten, I am nearly four and ten.” He protested; his shoulders slumped.

Alicent gently urged him to turn and face him, kneeling so that she could look into his downcast eyes. “Rhaenyra was your father’s only child, she had no other destiny, but you—you have endless possibilities before you.”

“Such as what?” He mumbled, still not meeting her eyes.

She sat back on her heels. It had been many years since her mind had deigned to imagine what her firstborn might be besides heir and king.

“See, even you, my mother, believes I am useless.”

She cupped his face, forcing him to meet her gaze. “You are not useless, you are my son, and that is enough.”

Aegon blinked his tears back rapidly, his lower lip trembling.

“If you wish to stay beside me for the rest of your life you may, if you wish to travel the realm on Sunfyre you may, but I still see greatness in you Aegon, even if no one else does.” She pressed a gentle kiss to his forehead.

Tears fell from his lashes and his jaw worked as he tried to speak. Finally, his words came out, his voice thick with tears. “What did you wish for me to be, when you first looked upon me?”

Alicent thought for a moment, searching her memory. “I wished for nothing but your health when I first looked upon you, but as you grew, many complimented me on your charm. No one could deny you anything when you smiled at them.”

“Except father.” He said, so softly, she wondered if it was meant for her to hear.

“I thought that perhaps with some training—some additional instruction, you would make a fine diplomat.” Of course, she had thought this less as the reports of his lecherous behavior began to roll in, and she watched his charm turn into coercion.

“A diplomat?” He echoed, an intrigued look in his eyes.

She nodded. “Yes, perhaps you could ask Lord Dumont to tell you of his duties and adventures. See if it might be something you would enjoy?”

He smiled, that small but bright smile that she loved so dearly. “Would I be able to travel on Sunfyre or would I have to ride in a carriage?”

“That is a question better suited for Lord Dumont and your sister.” She laughed softly, before she stood and motioned for him to turn once more. “Now, let me finish your hair.”

“Why can I not marry Helaena now?”

Rhaenyra massaged her temples, heaving a tired but amused sigh at her eldest son’s question. Jacaerys had been asking if he could marry Helaena sooner than his ten and fifth nameday for a week now.

“My love, where is this urgency coming from?” She asked, shooting Harwin a glare when he chuckled at their son’s request.

Jacaerys looked down at his feet. “Helaena is so pretty, and the others have begun to take notice.”

Harwin chuckled again and ruffled Jacaerys’ hair as he walked by to hang up his cloak. “My son, do you fear someone will steal Helaena away from you?”

“No—well…yes.” Jacaerys admitted, his face a bright red.

“Has she expressed any interest in these others?” Rhaenyra asked calmly, her heart hurting for her son. It pained her to see him so unsure of himself.

“Not that I have seen.” He said, fiddling with the ends of his sleeves.

“Would you like me to ask her about it?” She asked with a playful smile on her lips.

“No!” He said quickly, head shooting up.

Harwin wrapped his arm around her waist, pulling her into his side. “Stop teasing the poor boy, Nyra.” He gave Jacaerys a soft smile. “Son, if you fear you will lose Helaena then you must give her a reason to keep you by her side.”

“That is why I wish to marry her.”

Harwin shook his head. “You cannot trap a lady in a marriage, that will not encourage love, but resentment.”

Jacaerys’ shoulders slumped, and he trudged up to them, wrapping his small arms around as much of them as he could. “What can I do then?”

They both placed a hand on his back, smiling at each other.

“Why not give her a gift, something she will treasure?” She suggested, running her free hand through his curls.

“More bugs?” He asked hopefully.

“Gods, that little girl is odd.” Harwin muttered, making Rhaenyra laugh.

“I think you have given her enough bugs, my love.” She said fondly.

“All women love jewelry, why not go with Aemond and see if he can help you find something?” Harwin said.

Jacaerys perked up. “Aemond knows Helaena’s likings very well and has recently talked of a bookseller in the market he wishes to visit.”

“See, a simple solution to your troubles, no need for a marriage to be held quite yet.” She smiled, bending down to kiss his forehead before he darted out the door.

“And bring your brother, and a guard.” She called after him, getting a yelled back affirmation from her sprinting son.

“If he is like this now, imagine how much worse he will be when they do marry.” Harwin said, shaking his head in fond exasperation.

“Perhaps he will calm as he ages.” She hummed, tilting her head back as Harwin kissed down the smooth skin of her throat.

“I doubt it.” He snorted.

“And why is that?” She asked, breath hitching when he nipped at her pulse point.

“I never did.”

Tag list: @nyctophilic0vitnir, @svtansdaddyx, @fan-goddess, @dc-marvel-girl96, @shintax-error, @bellameshipper, @the141bandicoot, @the-phantom-of-arda, @haydee5010, @partypoison00, @serrhaewin, @issshhh, @pax-2735, @malfoytargaryen, @sahanna, @dellalyra, @mxrgodsstuff, @jkhomes, @unusual-raccoon, @boofy1998, @kravitzwhore, @caribbeangel, @krispold, @issshh, @afro-hispwriter, @ryswritingrecord, @prettykinkysoul, @elissanatok, @sahvlren, @its-sam-allgood, @happinessinthbeing, @8e-h-e8, @feyres-fireheart, @just-emmaaaa, @crazylokonugget, @hedahobbit98, @devils-blackrose, @mercedesdecorazon, @snh96, @imjustboredso, @izzicle, @hiatuswhore, @aslanvez, @devils-blackrose, @yentroucnagol, @queenofshinigamis, @partyposion00, @cryptidsrcool

[sugarlywhispers]

Just thinking about Bakugou falling to the floor, laughing –silently, shoulders shaking– as you try to ease your son's sadness over his own dad crying in laugh at an awful drawing the kid did of you. Artistic, you called it, which made Bakugou loose it completely.

"It's ugly," your five year old son says, pouting and looking deflected.

"Oh, no, honey... it's b-beautiful!" You're trying so fucking hard not to laugh too.

At least you have the decency to hide it, trying to be as kind and gentle with your son as possible. Contrary to your husband, Bakugou Katsuki, who is almost laying on the floor, not hiding his laughs at all. The bitch.

Your son sighs in sadness. "It's good, honey, I promise. You just... You just have to keep it up, okay? If this is what you like, do it. Keep drawing and practicing until you feel good, alright?"

"But daddy is laughing..."

That makes your husband laugh louder and harder, now completely laying on the floor.

"DADDY DOESN'T KNOW ANYTHING, ANYWAY. DON'T LISTEN TO HIM!" You yell over the strenuous laugh of Katsuki, before throwing one of the pillows of the couch at him, successfully hitting him on the face.

"Do you like it, mommy?" Your son's pretty wet puppy eyes makes you melt.

"Of course I do. I'm going to put it over the fridge door, like I do with all your drawings, baby," you promise as you hug your son. He hides his face on your neck as his little arms hug you back tightly around your neck.

Your eyes found Katsuki's, who is still on the floor, crying. His eyes then find again the drawing that it's forgotten on the floor and he begins laughing again.

You are so gonna kick his ass.

But you have to admit... the drawing is funny.

[writey-mcwriteface]

is the agathario fandom allergic to happiness or something?? wtf???

[evansbuck-ley]

henry was planned. they spent six months choosing the perfect egg donor and then another 2 months finding their perfect surrogate monica. buck planned everything down to the second. his nursery was decorated and furniture was built month four. wardrobe filled with clothes and drawers filled with diapers and other supplies by month six. he was even born on his due date - Christmas Eve.

henry’s younger sister rosie, however, was anything but planned. where henry was born from surrogacy, rosie was a safe haven baby.

buck was busy cleaning the ladder one afternoon late summer when a young girl, barely nineteen came by the firehouse. she looked so fragile and lost and she was holding the smallest baby buck thinks he has ever seen. she places the baby in his arms before dumping a diaper bag next to his feet, pleading with him to take the baby. please I can’t do this, i don’t have anyone to help me. I can’t do this alone. please just make sure she goes to someone good.

and before buck could even think to say anything, he was alone, in the middle of the station, holding this baby girl who has the thickest head of dark hair and the sweetest button nose and he swears she look’s exactly like tommy.

then eddie and chimney come rushing cover to figure out what the hell just happened and buck is just stood there, utterly shell shocked. chimney guides buck to the ambulance so he can check her over and noticed how bucks arms tighten around her just for a moment when he tries to reach to take the baby from him. chimney throws eddie a knowing look leading to eddie to immediately pull out his phone to call tommy bc he knows what’s about to happen.

a few hours go by, after the baby had been given the all clear, buck was sitting on the couch with the small girl resting against his chest - waiting for CPS to come. he watches as she rests so peacefully against him, her face scrunching ever so slightly as she moved her small body before relaxing against him once more.

from the corner of his eye he could see his husband making his way up the stairs, with that look of love and fondness he wears whenever he see’s buck with henry. he kneels down in front of him, pressing his hand on the back of the baby, rubbing small circles on her softly with his thumb and smiles because he knows.

and after applying for an emergency foster license and months of paper work and court hearings, rosie madeline buckley-kinard officially joins their family.

henryverse

[literaila]

all I want for Christmas is knowing how the atf! Family as a whole spend Xmas together (or New Years, idc) and also how Gojo x reader celebrate it alone 👀

“no, satoru,” you say, for what is probably the thousandth time ever.

you should really start capitalizing on these moments. keep a tally and make him pay you for each mark he gets. each time you have to teach him how to listen.

you’d be richer than him by now, probably.

“but please.”

satoru is on the ground by your feet, literally. his giant head rests against your socks, hands clawing at your very elegantly themed nutcracker pajamas like he’s about to rip them. which, he definitely is.

it’s early enough that you don’t even scold him for it, but blink idly, wondering why you’re still up this early when the children are completely grown—to everyone’s utter dismay—and have never believed in the magic of christmas.

well, megumi, at least. tsumiki, the only person in the room who can’t see curses or use any sort of actual supernatural ability, believes wholeheartedly in all types of magic. it must be easy, considering that she’s a sort of magic all on her own.

megumi, who has been preparing for this moment, steps right over satoru and shrugs down next to you on the couch. he’s also wearing christmas pajamas, but only because you and tsumiki manipulated him into it for fifteen minutes the night prior.

tsumiki is sitting on the floor in front of the coffee table, smiling because she’s the only morning person in the house.

also because she’s probably the only one who got any sleep.

“get off,” you tell him, pulling at his hair. “you need to wait your turn.”

“noo,” he whines some more, shaking his head and probably getting snot all over your ankles. his morning voice is nonexistent because you know that he didn’t even attempt to go to bed. which is also why he’s throwing a temper tantrum.

“it’s youngest to oldest. you’re dead last, loser.”

satoru looks up at you, pouting.

you ignore him entirely, turning to megumi. “go ahead, kid.”

megumi sighs, picking at the box you set next to his spot. but before he opens it, he gives satoru a look. “i think she just called you old.”

tsumiki giggles, sipping on her hot chocolate.

satoru, who is now leaning against your legs, entirely too tall for anything, looks back at you, head in your lap, with mystified puppy-eyes. he’s completely outraged. “did you call me old?”

you raise a brow. “i said oldest,” you respond, but your tone claims otherwise, because satoru is getting pretty old.

“i am very youthful—“

“immature,” megumi says, under his breath.

“—and the only one with any decency around here.”

“you’re wearing a shirt that says ‘santa’s favorite ho,’” you deadpan, pulling at his hair some more.

tsumiki giggles again.

satoru shakes your hand away. “it was a gift!”

megumi snorts, finally pulling at the wrapping paper around his present.

you blink. “from yourself.”

“not like any of you were going to appreciate me,” satoru mumbles, crossing his arms. you kiss the top of his head in response, and he grabs ahold of your calf like it’s a hand.

“i got you the pants,” tsumiki says, smiling at him.

“and i’ll wear them until the day that i die,” satoru nods, giving you another pointed look. you just snort.

“what’d you get, megs?”

“it’s a mug that says ‘worlds greatest teacher,’” he hands it to you, brows furrowed, his voice is nonchalant.

“what? i didn’t get you—“

“megumi’s not a teacher,” satoru interrupts, easily enough. he plucks the mug right from your hands. “well, i guess ill take it off your hands since you have no use for it—“

“satoru.”

“what? santa must’ve made a mistake—“

tsumiki laughs into her mug, getting hot chocolate on her face, and pajamas, and another year has passed.

who ever said christmas was about gifts anyway?

the rest of the morning passes, new socks shoved into dressers, books left around the house. tsumiki gets yarn to knit with, and megumi gets gel for his hair—and some new underwear, courtesy of satoru.

christmas doesn’t have a lot of tradition for any of you. maybe it’s because you and gojo grew up without any meaningful holidays, or maybe it’s because tsumiki and megumi barely knew what christmas was before you and satoru were assimilated into their household.

but you spend december putting up lights, buying gag gifts and trying to teach satoru how to wrap a present for the sixth year in a row. none of it is ever the same, and none of it goes very well. lights are broken, trees fall, and no matter how many matching sets of pajamas you buy, one always seems to go missing by christmas eve.

still, everyone laughs together at all of the nonsense and maybe that’s the only tradition that matters.

*

it’s not until later that night that you and satoru are finally alone.

you’re laying in bed, book in hand, trying to purposefully ignore his side eyeing.

but, even after a decade of practice, satoru isn’t easily forgotten. his eyes are too bright, his presence too ingrained in your mind. it’s a curse really, and you shouldn’t welcome it.

but it’s about eleven years too late for that now.

so after ten minutes you sigh, shutting the book. “what?”

“what what?”

“satoru. stop staring at me like a crazy person and talk.”

“what would i have to talk about?” he asks, dazzling smile on his face. he leans over to you, entirely too close. and it’s not a moment later that he pulls a small box from his back, holding it out to you.

how it got there, you’re entirely unsure.

you frown at it for a moment, then groan. “we said no gifts.”

he frowns. “so i’m just supposed to get my wife nothing?”

“yes,” you grab it from his hands, roughly. “because that’s what we agreed on.”

“i don’t think you know me,” he says, almost mystified but entirely teasing

you eye him, lip twitching. then you push the present back into his hands, leaning over to your bedside table.

when you turn back it’s with your own meticulously wrapped present in hand. “i know you,” you whisper to him, handing it over.

“hey,” he says, not at all angry. “we agreed.”

“you’ve never agreed on anything.”

and satoru, as impatient as ever, doesn’t even bother to respond, or even argue back. he just pulls at the bow, ripping the box in two.

and hes already smudged the lens of the new glasses you got him. you begin laughing before he can even look.

“what is this?” he asks, tilting his head at it.

you giggle some more, looking as excited as a child, grabbing the glasses to hold them out towards him. “new glasses,” you say, simply, but your voice is high pitched and on edge. “look.”

satoru grabs them from you again, and looks at the side of the frame. “are these eyes?”

you cover your mouth with a hand and nod. the sides are ingrained with a terrible imitation of satoru’s own eyes, no amount of paint enough to capture the alien-ness of them. still, they’re blue and bright and entirely too hilarious.

he blinks at you, his lips pursed. “are there six of them?”

you hold back a snort and point. “only four. you’ve got two perfectly good ones on your head already.”

and then you burst into laughter, leaning over so you can giggle into the blankets.

satoru is scowling but his face is soft, and maybe he’s smiling at you in disbelief, or admiration. “these are awful,” he says, but puts them on anyway.

“i know!” you say, grinning at him, completely giddy.

he shakes his head, but his face is amused, and nudges his present towards you. “open.”

you’re still quietly laughing to yourself as you open the box, but your smile fades once you see what’s inside.

you pull out a music box, a deep blue with gold embellishments. it’s porcelain and if you drop it, it’d break. you breathe out, then whisper “isn’t this the one we saw at that—“

“at the art festival we went to in october. you said it looked like the one you had at home.”

you look up at him. satoru is still smiling, but when has he ever stopped? “when did you get it? i carried all the bags that day.”

“there was another festival in kanto a month later,” he tells you, pulling it from your hands so he can open it up. “i stopped after a mission to look.”

but before you can thank him, can say it’s beautiful, or wonder how long he thought about it, a tiny dancer pops out, and she’s holding a slip of paper.

“what’s…”

satoru, who can’t wait for anything, grabs it, unfolding it so you can read. but he tells you anyway. “plane tickets. for a trip sometime. us and the kids. i already talked to yaga about time off.”

“satoru—“

“and the higher ups, but that one took longer. they’ll be fine for a week or two.”

you look at him again, lips downturned. “my gift was so dumb.”

he laughs, leaning in so he can press his forehead to yours. “this is for all of us, so we’ll call it even,” he grins, though. “or you could give me a different gift. i have a couple of things in mind—“

you shake your head and crawl to him, pushing him back so you can trap him with your head on his chest. “you’re so dumb.”

he pulls you close and runs his stupid soft hands up from your shoulders to your neck. “i know.”

“i love you.”

“i know,” he answers, still smiling.

[gothamite-rambler]

Kylar: Hey Tim, who's the blonde guy always dropping you off? Your boyfriend or something?

Kylar and his sister laughed at the tasteless joke, but when Tim's expression remained neutral, they stopped.

Tim (chuckling): Wow, you got it right on the first try.

Kim: Like he's your guy friend?

Tim: No, like my partner. He's my boyfriend; we've been dating for three years.

Kylar: You're queer?

Nearby coworkers gasped at the shocked reactions from Kim and Kylar, some glaring at the twin siblings.

Tim smirked and nodded.

Tim: Yes, I am bisexual. "Queer" is an… interesting word to use, though.

Kim: Um, bisexual? But you're a guy.

Tim looked at his hands, pretending to be shocked.

Tim: Oh my goodness, I am! Did you forget that was an option for men too? Nope, don’t even answer that. All you need to know is my boyfriend sometimes drives me to work. And don’t worry, I won’t make it vocal because it makes you so uncomfortable. I won’t bring him up in front of you either, like I haven’t really done in the past. Just pretend he’s my roommate.

Kylar (whispering to Kim): Told you he was weird.

Tim (hearing him): I am weird, aren’t I? I hope I don’t get my gay all over you. Let me just walk off and lock myself in my office and cry.

Tim walked away, fake crying, much to Kylar's anger. Kim rolled her eyes at Tim as well, and the two walked off, continuing to talk badly about him.

Amy: Tim, you okay?

Tim: Yep, this isn’t my first time facing that reaction. You learn how to handle it.

Amy sighed in understanding and nodded.

[sparkleetwordz]

the sonic movies are way too wholesome to not have any tkl content

[saturninemartial]

Hi I'm back again with more mushy future zosan business. This is post-zosan marriage, about a decade in the future; Loof is the pirate king, but the gang has stayed together to make sure everyone achieves their dreams (and also bc they're family).

They're sailing past a smallish island with no plans to stop, until they see worryingly big plumes of smoke, too big for bonfires or cooking fires, so they divert course for a possible rescue. When they land, they find a village that's just been decimated by some outside force. It's a somber moment as they're surrounded by bodies and crumbled buildings, as whatever invaders laid waste to this mostly-defenseless society.

The gang searches for clues as to who could have done this, any weapons left behind, really anything distinct that Robin could research and help them exact revenge for these helpless people. While digging around, Usopp finds something—or someone: a baby, hidden away for safety, not far from her deceased mother, who was obviously hoping for someone to find the infant. It makes everyone even more angry and sorrowful, wanting revenge for this baby.

They take the baby onboard and let Chopper check her over for injury and general health. Zosan both immediately take to the baby (several nakama point out that they both have a protective/nurturing instinct), and it's pretty much left up to them to figure out what to do with the baby. And, um, here's a little scene about it from the fic I'm gonna write:

(Spoiler alert: they end up keeping the baby as their own.)

In this scene, they then have a conversation about what to name her; and Sanji immediately tosses out naming her after a dead family member (so no Kuina, Sora, or even Tera) bc according to him, that's a lot of weight and expectation put on a child, and she should be able to live free of expectations and do as she pleases. They end up naming her something that Zoro liked from his childhood/from Wano (so basically a Japanese name). The next morning, at breakfast, Sanji announces their decision to keep the baby with, "Introducing the newest member of the Straw Hat Pirates: Roronoa Firstname!" And everyone cheers bc tbh they've all been loving on this baby and love being aunts and uncles (and also still have revenge in their hearts).

The crew has a little "break" planned soon at Syrup, so Usopp can spend some time with the wife, and everyone gets some time to chill: and Dr. Kaya is overjoyed to see the baby and buys all kinds of supplies and clothes and books to help.

(The Straw Hats do end up figuring out the perpetrators of the attack, and exact revenge on them for their youngest member.)

(I don't have much figured out about this baby/child OC except that she has peach-colored hair. I also like Spanish-speaking Sanji bc of Taz and his accent, so Sanji calls her duraznita or duraznaja—little peach—bc of her hair. 🥰)

[saphstories]

I have a silly little request for you

Sonic trying to get Tails to bed after a stressful day

I'll Be There Just for You

It shouldn’t have surprised the Blue Blur as much as it did. He knew his little brother, knew that when some idea sparked in that genius head, he wouldn’t be ripped away from it until he was satisfied or bored… or both.

But to find the twin-tailed kit half-dangling out of a Crab Bot, wrench hanging loosely from his fingers, and little snuffly snores echoing through the workshop, Sonic shook his head in both mirth and exhaustion, heaving a long sigh.

“Come on, Tails, up and at ‘em.” Sonic combed his fingers between the kit’s ears. “As comfy as the Crab looks, its no bed. Come on.” As expected, Tails let out a sleepy grumble and curled his namesakes over his body, snuffling into their fur. Sonic smiled. “Gonna play hardball, huh? Alrighty then, you leave me no choice.” An ear twitching in his direction was the only indication that the fox heard, but it was alright. He’d be listening closely soon enough.

“When you feel afraid,

When you lose your way, I’ll find you,”

An aqua eye cracked, and Sonic pretended to ignore it, continuing his rhythmic strokes through the fur between Tails’ pricked ears.

“Just try to smile and dry your eyes,

I will bring back the moon into your skies,

And ever you will, remember brother, I’ll be there to,”

Sonic opened his arms and Tails crawled out of the Crab Bot, climbing into his brother’s lap and putting his ear against his chest.

“Say to you,

I promise you,

I promise to,

Comfort you and say to you:

Brother, I’ll be there just for you.”

With years of practice and ease, Sonic cradled the fox against his chest and stood, a soft clicking purr he only ever used for the one in his arms soothing the discontented kit clinging to him.

“There’s so much to learn,

And when you want me,

Then I’ll show you,

And through the years, you’ll always be,

The lullaby of the heart of the child in me.”

Some things never grew old or faded with time. As Tails drifted between the waking world and dreams, he curled his namesakes tight around his big brother, a tiny smile on his muzzle at the slight sway and bounce to Sonic’s gait as he walked through the house and up the stairs, cradling him the exact same way he’d done since he was a tiny and frightened kit. A sleepy purr rumbled in his throat, and he nuzzled into the soft fur of Sonic’s shoulder.

“Whenever you will, remember brother,

I’ll be there to,

Say to you,

I promise you,

I promise to,

Comfort you and say to you,

Brother, I’ll be there just for you.”

Sonic gently pried Tails’ fingers from his fur—kit always had an iron grip—and tucked the blanket delicately around him, kneeling beside the little biplane bed, that same soft smile still on his face as his baby brother drifted in dreams.

“Hold it, feel it,

Music is in your heart.

When you need it,

Just keep listening,

Let it sing, let it sing.”

Sonic blinked the tears gathering in his eyes away as he gazed at his brother. He wasn’t one for nostalgia, for reflection, for focusing on the past. He much preferred to focus on the present, to soak in every moment and keep pushing forward. But, looking at Tails, he couldn’t help the surge of pride and affection for the fox. He’d grown so much, become so much—a tinker, an inventor, a hero—since the frightened kit he’d found all those years ago. Sonic was sure, in time, Tails would shake the stars in ways he’d never be able to, and he couldn’t wait to see it… but he was in no hurry for it, either.

“Though you’ve grown away,

No matter how you change,

I’ll know you.

When you tire of life alone,

There will always be one sure way back home.

You just turn on the quiet,

And you close your eyes,

And listen inside.”

Sonic huffed a tired laugh and kissed Tails’s forehead, letting his head rest there for a moment before straightening up and heading for the door. But he lingered in the doorway, watching the moonlight shimmer and illuminate the fox’s orange fur shining silver.

“I’ll be there to sing to you,

I promise you,

I promise to,

Comfort you and sing to you,

And brother, I’ll be there,

Anytime and anywhere,

Tails, I’ll be there just for you.”

[pacificwaternymph]

Anyone got fic recs where all the batkids are actual KIDS? Like... all at once?

Preferably ones with ALL the batkids, including Cass, Duke, Steph, and Barbara?

[wikiangela]

tease tidbit tuesday/wip wednesday

tagged by @thewolvesof1998 @theotherbuckley @tizniz @diazsdimples @dangerpronebuddie @spotsandsocks @exhuastedpigeon @underwaterninja13 - tagging y'all back for wip wednesday 💖💖

doing two in one bc it's technically wednesday already idc lol - started a new wip I mentioned before (inspired by this video lol) and rn I'm rewriting what I wrote yesterday bc the past two days words were not wording and I hated everything I wrote, but I think I'm happy with it now haha I hope I'll manage to write it like I want to bc it's sooo good in my head istg haha

(wasn't gonna post until i have more but i need validation before i drive myself crazy over this lol)

___

It started as a random idea, more like a throwaway thought, really. Tommy was just checking the weather for the next few days – his hot pilot boyfriend always likes to be prepared – while they were hanging out, and he casually mentioned that “it’s gonna be nice on Saturday, perfect barbecue weather,” which got Buck to mention how they often have family barbecues at Bobby and Athena’s. Somehow, the conversation spiraled, and Buck’s not sure who threw out a more concrete idea, but here they are now, standing side by side in Tommy’s kitchen, preparing food – Buck’s currently slicing veggies for a salad, while Tommy takes care of the meat – for the barbecue where they invited way too many people than Tommy’s backyard can probably fit. It really is nice weather, the sliding door leading from the kitchen to the backyard open and letting in warm sunshine and a soft breeze that makes the air feel cooler. They work in pleasant silence, the only sound is quiet music playing from the speaker, and Buck can’t help a fond smile when he hears his boyfriend hum along, so off-key Buck’s not sure he even knows the song, but it’s still adorable.

The silence is disrupted by the doorbell ringing, and before Tommy can even move, Buck is dropping the knife on the cutting board, wiping his hands, and sprinting towards the door, shouting an “I got it!” over his shoulder. He’s followed by an echo of Tommy’s fondly amused chuckles. So he’s a little excited, sue him – they haven’t had a family day like this in a while, and there was only one he brought Tommy to, all of their schedules not so easy to align. And today his whole family will be here, including their spouses and children, and Tommy invited a couple of his friends and their families, too, and it’ll be just a big, loud, chaotic get-together that he’s hosting with his boyfriend. Buck never hosted one of these before, and he’s really enjoying it so far, and he just wants everyone to have fun.

___

no pressure tags: @elvensorceress @thebravebitch @shortsighted-owl @eddiebabygirldiaz @watchyourbuck

@eowon @loserdiaz @evanbegins @ladydorian05 @wildlife4life

@diazpatcher @lover-of-mine @monsterrae1 @weewootruck @loveyouanyway

@spagheddiediaz @rainbow-nerdss @epicbuddieficrecs @pirrusstuff @alliaskisthepossibilityoflove

@nmcggg @rogerzsteven @hippolotamus @bidisasterevankinard @giddyupbuck

@sunshinediaz @honestlydarkprincess @911-on-abc @jesuisici33 @steadfastsaturnsrings

@buddieswhvre @fortheloveofbuddie @your-catfish-friend

@daffi-990 @hoodie-buck @aroeddiediaz

[verfound]

FICLET: "Mamie Marie" (MLB; Lukanette; House Band)

Characters/Pairings: Harmony Couffaine, Luka Couffaine, Marinette Dupain-Cheng; Luka Couffaine/Marinette Dupain-Cheng

Rating: All Ages

Summary: Marinette makes a granny hat for Harmony’s hundredth day of school.  Luka likes it.

Author’s Notes/Warnings: I made a granny curler hat for the 100th Day of School.  That’s it.  That’s the story.  😂  (My district can also be stupid & I needed some fluff.)

Read on Ao3

“Mamie Mari”

“So?  What do you think?”

He looked up at his wife’s voice, and his eyes popped open when he saw her standing in the doorway to their bedroom.  A white knit cap – complete with loops of yarn curls and hair rollers and a perky little bun – sat atop her head.  His reading glasses – the ones he had finally caved and bought after his last eye exam had gone…less well than expected – were perched on her nose, and an old cardigan had been tossed on over her designer top.

“Think it’ll do for Harmony’s hundredth day of school?” she asked, reaching up to pat her bun like she was primping.

“…oh my God, I love you,” he laughed, shaking his head in wonder.  “Darning.  Please take this as the compliment it’s intended as.”

“Ok?” she laughed, her face scrunching a little.  He hopped up off the bed, propping his guitar against the wall, and crossed the room to her in a few easy strides.  He took her hands in his and brought them to his lips, pressing a kiss against her wedding ring.

“You are hot as a granny, and I cannot wait to grow old with you,” he said.  She blinked at him for a moment before busting up in laughter, her head dropping against his shoulder as she leaned against him.

“Oh my God, you dork,” she cackled.  “I honestly don’t know if I’m offended or not.  You’re not supposed to tell a woman she’s getting old!”

“I didn’t!” he laughed.  “I said I can’t wait to get old with you!”

She rolled her eyes before looking up at him, and after a moment of smiling stupidly at each other she tugged his face down for a kiss.  His hand slid up to cup the back of her head, slipping under the yarn to feel the hair tucked underneath.

“Papa!  No!  You’ll mess it up!” a voice at their side cried, and he looked down to find Harmony glaring at him.  She reached her hands up for the hat.  “Maman made it for me.  Don’t ruin it!”

“I would never – you know I love everything Maman makes too much to do that,” he said, smiling at her as he popped the hat off Marinette’s head.  He ignored Marinette’s eyeroll and mumbled comment that was definitely not appropriate for any of their band to hear and handed the cap over to their oldest dutifully, who immediately fit it around her own head.  It was a little big on her, but he had no doubt once she tucked all her hair inside it would fit like a glove.  “Gorgeous, Chaos.  Almost as gorgeous as Maman.”

“Ew, Papa,” she sniffed with all the disdain of her twelve years.  “Don’t be gross.”

She turned and ran down the hall, eager to show her hat off to her siblings.  Marinette sighed and leaned against him, and he chuckled as he wrapped his arms around her middle and bent his head to her ear.

“You realize you’re gonna have to make one for all of them now, right?” he asked.  She sighed and nodded.

“It’s ok.  They all have hundred day celebrations.  The boys are ok with baby powder in their hair, but I’ve already started Mellie’s,” she said.  He kissed her shoulder and laughed.

“You’re such a good maman,” he said.  He skimmed his nose against her ear, smiling as he whispered: “…and a very hot mamie.”

“Oh, please, not yet,” she laughed.  She turned in his arms and removed his glasses, settling them on his nose and smiling as she ran a hand through his hair.  It was starting to get long again.  “You wouldn’t look bad with some gray yourself, you know.”

“You think?” he asked, grinning at her.

“You already have the glasses,” she said, shrugging.  She fisted her hands in his shirt and tugged him down, pausing with her lips a breath away from his own.  “…the kids are playing.  Wanna close that door and be gross with me, old man?”

“…hey,” he laughed, stepping back into their room and pulling her after him, “I’m not that old yet, Mamie…”

[mi---amor]

Where The Heart Is

A//N: Chef Saltbaker x Self Insert OC

°•°•°•°•°

The funny thing about going off to explore the world was, at the end of the day, there was no place like home. 

Chalice had roamed the isles of Inkwell for several centuries; infinite freedom to witness the passage of time and march of progress at the cost of not being able to experience any of it. However, her postmortem predicament had recently relented and she was now free to venture on two solid feet wherever she desired. 

The change was nice. It was new. It was exciting! 

And most thrilling of all, it was tiring.

All credit went to accompanying the two knucklehead cup brothers on whatever adventure they embarked. Dueling grown adults, monsters, and Satan himself was no longer a pastime, thankfully. They could finally just enjoy being kids. 

As much as Chalice loved those two to death (quite literally) and would gladly take on a million brawls for them, a girl her age needed time to herself. Two whole weeks of romping around Isle One left her sore from straw to toe, not to mention incredibly homesick. 

After a prompt but sound boat ride, Chalice twirled and skipped towards the humble town square of Isle Four. The day was drifting into late afternoon, meaning the bakery would be closed, but her pops would be on the lookout for her.

He always waited down by the old well, and once they caught sight of each other, he'd open his arms and smile big. Chalice would smile even bigger and rush up into his awaiting softness. It was probably the best feeling since returning to life, she'd say. 

That and gobbling down a plate of her favorite fig and almond tarts he'd make as a welcome home present, just for her. They'd go inside and Chalice would chatter on about her two weeks of non-reckless-but-maybe-rowdy fun while her father listened with interest, happy she had returned safely, happy she was happy.

And Chalice would be happy- as soon as they were reunited. 

The cup girl crossed the cobbletones before a bare spot at the well’s side. She craned her neck and hopped around like a twitchy bird. Her father wasn't where he usually sat right at the front. He had to be somewhere, though- hopefully not at the bottom of it. But no, he wouldn’t let falling down an old well stop him from missing her first day back.

Chalice's excited heel taps slowed as she checked the entire circumference of the area. She even called down the dusty stone reservoir, just in case. Nothing but her confused little voice came back up to greet her.

She pouted, but shrugged off the slight disappointment. Her pops was a busy guy. The best baker in the land. He often made time for her, but Chalice knew he wouldn't always be able to. She’d been an adult before, hadn't she? There had been many occasions where she may or may not have wished to get the hassle of living and dealing with so many responsibilities out of the way. She understood the struggle perfectly. 

Anyways, despite being returned to the mortal realm as a child, she was ‘a smart little cookie crumble’, as her pops liked to put it. She could figure things out for herself. 

Chalice shouldered her backpack and scurried toward the bakery, which doubled as their house with an upstairs floor. The sun dripped down the windows like melting golden butter. A chalkboard sign at the door read: Closed. Chalice checked the knob. Locked. Not a problem. Fishing a key from a necklace hidden under her collar, she unlocked the door and stepped right in.

The warm, cozy smell of home embraced Chalice, and if she could have given it one in return, she would have. She'd missed the place terribly. Something about Saltbaker’s bakery had tugged at her soul when she first explored it as a specter. She knew now it was because it had been built over a mausoleum, with enough astral energy to draw in powerful beings of the past like herself. Nowadays, it was just magical in its everyday simplicity and, most important of all, safety. 

Maybe it was where she was meant to be all along… although luckily not in a tart tin.

The storefront had been left neat and tidy, same as before she’d left. Given how much he prided in presentation, Chalice could believe her father had missed the time while cleaning or finishing some other end-of-the-day matter. 

She wouldn't hold it against him. In fact, she pitied the poor guy. He often got swamped with work and cheerfully waved away any concern he could clearly use.

Because of this, Chalice had suggested he at least entertain the idea of hiring more staff. Like any good daughter, she helped when she could with chores. But after the whole… Wondertart fiasco… the chef didn't seem entirely comfortable having a child carry out hours of unpaid manual labor in his workplace. 

Chalice appreciated the consideration immensely; he'd learned his lesson and was being the best dad he could be. But still, he was through with community service. He didn't have to toil alone as a consequence anymore. Hopefully he’d heed her advice and quit being such a big stubborn dummy. 

Heading toward the stairs of their living quarters, Chalice overheard an unmistakable belly laugh coming from the kitchen. She paused and listened closer. The radio was on too, playing a merry melody. 

Her pops loved listening to music while he cleaned. 

Grinning, the cup girl rushed behind the counter and through the swinging door, ready to tackle him for his forgetfulness, which she would easily forgive over a plate of fig tarts. 

And there he was, leaning back against a counter, stirring a full wine glass. Chef Saltbaker was chuckling in a noticeably giddier pitch with a rosy hue dusting over his glass features. Across from him stood a stranger Chalice couldn't see since they were turned away, but it seemed to be a woman.

“Pop?” she asked, not hiding her slightly bewildered tone. 

The chef caught sight of his daughter through a distorted view in the wine glass raised to his lips. He choked into it, and after a brief coughing fit, he seemed to suddenly speak fluent gibberish. 

“Chalice! Ah-! I- um- you- drat! Today!”

“Don't get your cap in a twist,” Chalice muttered, stepping slightly closer to the guest who had an apparent VIP pass to loiter in their kitchen. She didn’t mean to crinkle her nose at them, but she felt like she had a good reason to. “Who’re you?”

The woman was short and stocky, a little on the chubbier side, and had a semblance to one of the pastries in the bakery's many display cases. She was kinda pretty, which wasn't a good thing as Chalice tried filling in the blanks of whatever this oddly intimate situation was while awaiting a proper explanation. 

The woman cleared her throat, looking toward the chef as he hurriedly set down his cup and switched off the radio. 

“She doesn't speak English, I’m afraid,” Saltbaker said. He went and knelt beside Chalice, seeming a bit sheepish. “I had hoped you might’ve overheard the news since word travels at the speed of light around here, but I digress.” He then held out a palm toward the mystery woman. “This is Amor, my new baking assistant! Amor, esta es mi hija, Cáliz.”

“Oh! Mucho gusto.” Although stiffer than the peppy chef, the woman offered a hand and smile to the girl as Saltbaker translated.

“She says it's nice to meet you.”

“Yeah, I got that,” Chalice said. Without returning the gesture, she stared at the woman, the wine glasses, and then her father. She waited, letting the awkwardness sink in perhaps a bit too cruelly, before asking, “So… she’s just an assistant?�� 

“Of- of course.” Chef Saltbaker’s not-very-convincing stutter was out of pure confusion. He had no idea what on Earth his daughter was trying to insinuate, but a child's imagination was terrifying and he wasn't about to start guessing.

The Amor lady mumbled something Chalice didn't quite catch. She was familiar with Spanish as well as a variety of other languages, and although she didn't exactly remember how, she knew her past life had something to do with it. 

There was an oddity to how Amor spoke. Her Spanish had a twang, like a Southern accent. Chalice had never heard it before, nor had she even seen the woman on any of the isles in her two entire lives. It was strange, and unfortunately just made her plain weird. Worst of all, now she had her father acting all strange and weird and secretive too. 

Sensing a souring atmosphere, Chef Saltbaker calmly replied to Amor while ushering Chalice out of the kitchen. As soon as they were alone, like they were supposed to be, he knelt and cupped his daughter’s shoulders. 

“Oh, sweetheart, I completely forgot about walking you home! I'm real sorry, really I am. I've been busy showing Amor the ropes, see. She's not just new to the job, she's from another archipelago entirely.”

“Huh,” Chalice said. “That explains it.” 

“Explains what?”

“She's… well. Different.” Chalice made sure to pick her words to sound judgment-free. She didn't really know why she had the urge to do the exact opposite… but she had a good guess. Ever since the Wondertart incident a year or so ago, she had a rightful amount of wariness for anyone who seemed too friendly on the outside. 

And that was pretty much everyone. 

Chef Saltbaker was a firsthand witness, if not the guilty culprit. She wasn't going to get over the instinct anytime soon, but at the same time he really didn’t wish for her to feel that way constantly. 

“Yes, she is different,” he said. “But different doesn't mean bad.”

Chalice rolled her eyes. “I knowww. C'mon, I ain’t five.”

“Then why the suspicion?” 

Her father seemed to genuinely want to know, and Chalice hadn't even noticed that was the exact emotion she felt. Having it pointed out aloud made her sound… pretty harsh.  

“I don't know,” she admitted. “Maybe because she randomly showed up? And last I checked, you don't need a bottle of wine and mood music to chit-chat.”

Chef Saltbaker hadn't the foggiest clue as to where his daughter had pulled such an assumption from. It bordered on impudent, but he didn't think admonishing her would solve the issue. He believed there could have been a better way to present the situation. And darn it, presentation was his thing, he knew better. 

“Sweetheart, part of getting to know someone is to make conversation and be polite,” he reasoned. “Where we come from, pouring a drink is a gesture of hospitality as well. Amor is bright and has a great attitude, a marvelous culinary background, and she's leaped at the chance to work here… even with knowing about my- ah. Record.” 

Chef Saltbaker dodged the sore subject and waggled Chalice's shoulders with great enthusiasm. “She's proven to be a great help in only a few days! I'm ahead on my orders and she could take over a few tasks to free up my schedule! Isn't that what you were telling me I needed?”

When he put it like that… not to mention looked so happy while telling her about it… maybe Chalice had been too hasty. She'd said it herself; she knew nothing about Amor. While there was still a persistent fear that she had other intentions, there was also a chance she could have been an angel who'd dropped down to their doorstep. 

Meanwhile, the chef had paid his daughter's wishes mind. Didn't that also mean he was thinking of her? To make more time? Because he cared? 

The little cup girl twisted her foot behind a calf, downcast. 

“Oh,” was all she could manage to say. 

“Oh?” Chef Saltbaker gently teased. He chucked Chalice under the chin, meeting her guilt-ridden gaze with an endlessly loving one. “I wouldn't hire any random person off the street, y'know. Part of the ongoing interview process is assessing if she'd work well with another helper around, should I need you. You're a much bigger priority to me than anything else, dear, even my old bakery, and if things don't work out for whatever reason, I'll see to it. Alright?”

A warmth lit in the depths of Chalice's soul at his assurance, lifting her eyes and mouth high. Playfully, she flicked her father's nose. It made a funny spring door stopper noise. 

“Since when did they start calling you Chef Sappybaker?” she asked. 

Her father retaliated by pinching both her cheeks and squishing them around. “Oh, since I had the pleasure of looking after you, cookie crumble. You won't hear the end of it, I promise. Ah! Before I keep being a forgetful fool…”

Chalice gasped in delight as her father flourished a hand and summoned a sparkling plate of fig tarts from thin air. Steam swirled above them, and the dollops of cream glistened like freshly fallen snow. 

“Amor helped make these when I told her you were coming home today,” Chef Saltbaker said. He meaningfully tilted his head toward the kitchen. “She's shy at first but opens up to kindness. She's looking forward to meeting you. Now, I won't force you to make conversation, but I do request you be polite. Do you think you could introduce yourself a bit better?” 

Chalice stood straight and nodded like a steadfast soldier. Her father couldn't resist giving her cheek another doting pinch. 

“That's my girl.”

Amor waited in the kitchen, every second tightening like a vice around her heart. Had she said something wrong? Looked the wrong way, worn the wrong clothes?

She hated social cue guessing games like that, but sadly that was the only way she could afford to try and fit in at the moment.

Maybe it was the clothes. It was always the clothes. She could wear what she wanted back home, back where no one batted an eye at a woman with short hair wearing pants. But here, everyone noticed. If your hair was long and your pants were short, they noticed. If your hair was cut and your dress flowed to your ankles, they noticed.

You could work harder than anyone, get more cuts and tears and dirt stains all over those blouses and jeans, and still, all they saw was how badly you stood out like a sore thumb.

Amor leaned anxiously from foot to foot. She could only hope that the little cup girl saw her like her father had. See she was trying to make a good first impression and not seem weird or mean on purpose. First impressions meant everything these days when so many others were next in line to snatch a job.

The kitchen door swished open and Amor turned, hands fidgeting in place of being nibbled on. That had been fast. Had they talked about her? Was her financial fate really going to be set in the hands of a child? 

Holding onto her plate of goodies, Chef Saltbaker gave his daughter a push and wink in Amor’s direction. Chalice smiled at the visibly apprehensive woman and held out a hand. 

“¡Hola! Soy Cáliz. Es un placer conocerte, Señora Amor, y agradezco que estás ayudando a mi papá con nuestra panadería.”

The little girl's tooth gap adorably complimented her earnest expression and perfect Spanish. Any suspicion Amor had initially sensed was long gone, having been swept aside to reveal something much sweeter and approachable like she'd seen in the head chef himself. 

It was excellent customer service in the making if Amor had ever seen any. To top it off, the sound of her native language alone made her feel right at home.

“Gracias, señorita. Me siento muy bienvenido aquí.” 

[cherry-pop-elf]

Weasley Siblings Giving You A Mani-Pedi! 💅

A friend of mine is from another country/culture and we ended up talking about mani pedis. I helped translate them, and I got to learn about their culture and how they view them. It was cute and wholesome! So it inspired this. ((Also it’s called projecting because when you are in a wheelchair you get self conscious, and also can’t get mani’s because of needing to roll and self conscious about pedi’s because of surgical scars

William ‘Bill’

As the eldest, you just develop a lot of skills. Especially when the baby girl of the family needs female support. As the designated ‘man with long hair’ he was the one to help her with polish a lot. So he would know what he’s doing, but would also want to keep them practical to. He would give you nails that would be simple, clean, but with top coats. Making sure they last, so you can enjoy them. He also gives you the full wash deal. He knows better than anyone. Also, he is 100% the grunge type to always have his nails painted black. He’s just the grunge aesthetic king. Black nails are his favorite. If you ask him to paint you little moons and stars on your fingers and toes, he will try his best. They always turn out stunning. Curse breakers have to have a steady hand after all.

Charlie

Hope you like nails that can stab a bitch. He has worked with dragons for so long, you’ll either end up with nails so flat you’ll never get anything done. Or nails so sharp you can use them for cutting the stems off flowers. Sharp, or dull. No inbetween. Hope you like dull toe nails and vampire finger nails. He is also a bit messy with the paint. That’s what cleaning spells, and cotton balls, are for anyway. He’s gonna paint them red every time, hope you know that. He himself doesn’t wear nail polish, because it’s never gonna last long anyway. He did, however, always join in with painting sessions with Ginny. He’s a good older brother!

Percy

He feels it’s to ‘femmine’ and just has an overly traditional view. So never expect him to sport anyway. He does, however, know how to care for his nails. He takes hygiene very seriously, so he would be happy to help keep your nails presentable. Cleaned, nail beds worked on, trimmed, and a transparent top coat to help keep them looking presentable. If he’s in the mood, a French tip will be on the menu. He just doesn’t care, beyond keeping them cleaned. His Percy, what else did you expect?

Fred and George

They are going to have fun with it. It’ll be messy, but it’s going to be so much fun doing it with you. Fred more than happy to do so, and will even ask you to do his. Same for George. They are twins, they love to be cliche and do matchies or complimentary in some fashion. Fred is the messier of the two, while George is able to be more neat and thoughtful. Definitely will work your toes, while Fred works your hands. Expect wild colors, and fun designs. Like glitter hearts, with little beads on them. They wanna have fun with it! They also have their nails painted, typically orange and purple in some fashion. They also love doing gel stuff for meetings, and business events. It’s fashion, and colors. They are the Weasley Twins. Gender conformity? I hardly know her!

Ron

He has no idea what he is doing, please send this man some help. He doesn’t know the difference between gel, and a top coat. He’s mixing the colors, he’s gotten it on his clothes, HERMIONE HELP-! He’s trying his best, but he just has no clue. You’ll need to teach him alot, but he’s willing to learn! He does think it’s neat that you can have a ‘theme’ with your nails. Like paint them as the color of your favorite quidditch team. That’s what gets him on board. Your nails are gonna get so sloppy, but hey. Who hasn’t had sloppy nails? A lot of it will end up being you painting his nails. You are allowed to get more creative with his toes, since less people will see them. Baby steps.

Ginny

The girl of the hour. As a kid, she liked it alot. Helped her stand out against her brothers. Now? She has her own style. Given she’s a Quidditch star, it can be rather rough on the hands. She does, however, really enjoy the subtle styles. Like transparent glitters. That’s her favorite. Just a touch of magic, if you will. She would love to have you more of her model, of what she can do. Have you wear all the fun things she can’t. Like making ombré’s, and tiny designs. It’s a really great way to bond. It helps her with her connection with feminine side. It can be hard. Being raised by six boys, but also genuinely being a Tom Boy. Makes you have a weird connection to what makes a ‘girl a girl.’ So this helps her feel that connection. She loves it. A wonderful way to spend her time with you.

[achirding]

SatBK Scribble Comic: Dada

Gilly’s first word is also his favorite person! As much fun as he had hanging out with grandma, he’s happy Daddy’s back. (The feeling is mutual, even if Lancelot is more reserved.)