Stanley Pines hadn’t really planned on kids, but then, they managed to find him anyway.
A little Father’s Day tribute (a day late, whoops) to not just a great dad uncle, but the greatest uncle!
Soon I’ll be sixty years old, will I think the world is cold Or will I have a lot of children who can warm me?
-Lukas Graham, Seven Years
Stan Pines always figured he would have kids someday. Sometime after his “ew, girls are icky” phase and the following “okay, girls ain’t so bad,” yet before the “well shit, you know what, guys are A-ok in my book, too.”
Having kids seemed the thing to do when you grew up. What usually happened, Filbrick would grumble, whether you planned for them or not.
Stan didn’t necessarily believe that to be the case; regardless, eventually having a rugrat or two was what he wanted, expectations be damned. Babysitting his nephew had given him an appreciative stance on kids. Just the way a baby looked at you, like you were sun and lit up the whole world with your presence alone, that was staggering to Stan, unlike anything he had ever felt.
Not wanting kids was fine, too, as Stan pointed out when Ford expressed his disinterest in spawning any of his own. As always, the brothers were more different than alike, identical or no. Stan pondered if that was the way it went with all siblings.
(“Fatherhood would simply be a major distraction to my research. In moderation, children can be fun company, of course; but they’re also messy, loud, disruptive, and desire a lot of attention.”
“Geez, Sixer, sound like yer describin’ me,” Stan snorted.
“Exactly my point.”
Stan scoffed, socking his smirking brother in the arm. “Shuddup, nerd. Keep talkin’ like that and Uncle Ford won’t be invited to my mansion for Thanksgiving.”
It’s kind of disgusting how much hate Emma and Rashad are getting from Normani’s fans. Funny because it’s all teenage girls who clearly weren’t taught how to be respectful and downright not mean. Who thinks it’s okay to attack someone just because their favorite didn’t win?
summary: It was at the end of the in day, at the end of baking lemon cakes, when she began to move past her rose-tinted infatuation, and into something much brighter. a/n: … Okay, I’ll admit that this was mainly written because I really do miss my school’s cookery classes. I took it as a final subject to get a qualification out of, and I loved it. …Even if I did make a plate shatter into a casserole… we don’t speak of that. Anyhow, I hope you enjoy!
Autumn had taken her paintbrush, and swept it across the entire horizon. Splatters of red and yellow had engulfed the green lands of summer, made the air more crisp, and sent a pleasant chill up Marinette spine whenever she took a step outside.
She adored this season. Pumpkin-spiced lattes, cute coats and hats, and the glorious sunset that made it look like the sky was on fire… everything to her was worth drawing, worth writing down to remember. Everyone could have their summers and springs, but she was fine with the crisp air of Autumn.
Marinette sighed as she looked at the picture-perfect outdoors, and turned back to sifting the flour into the bowl.
The amount of mutual respect between Hotch and Garcia is so important. Obviously, she respects him because he is her superior, but he treats her with just as much–and sometimes even more–respect and always encourages her to be herself.