#mini felicity

[desertdollranch]

Happy Valentine's Day from my historical besties!

Felicity and Elizabeth

Cécile and Marie-Grace

Courtney and Molly

[doll-collector-by-day]

I went to an estate sale near me today, based on a single picture that showed me that they might have Susannah (Felicity's doll) and Clara (Samantha's doll)

I came home with this:

I'm not sure if the original owner had Speaking Rain's doll or if I overlooked it, but she had all 6 of the original glass eyed dolls, and most importantly, all the rest of the girls' dolls.

I wasn't planning on buying my Christmas gift all in one place, but I couldn't pass up the chance!

Susannah has a tiny chip on her chin but also she actually has wooden legs that move AND I DID NOT KNOW THIS? It never actually sank in that she's really made of wood! She was $2.

Nina looks almost exactly like the one of the wiki, other than the slant of her eyes. She was $15 because someone knew she was American Girl.

Sari is beautiful and I need to get out my other one so I can compare her. She had no price so they charged me $2. Kirsten had been holding her (I'm so sorry I had to separate you two :( ) but I was not going to pay $125 for each of the 18 inch dolls.

Ida Bean was my holy shit if dreams come true wish and now I have her?!?!? She is the best surprise of all. She had no price but instead of charging me $2, the lady looked over at some racist "Mammy" teapot another lady was buying, decided she was slightly more valuable and charged me $5. (I would have paid $25 but whatever).

Clara was snagged so fast. She's not the original version, but her face is matte compared to the one on the wiki.

Amelia was (unfortunately) in a case with GI Joes so they charged $25 for her. I almost lost her hat when they handed her over to me. :(

Molly's nurse doll was tucked over in a different case and I almost missed her. Her little hat kept trying to fall off and I can't wait to show her to my daughter because she was really excited for Molly to get a doll when we read the books.

Other than Kaya missing a button, the mini dolls are all there. Sending out amazing finds energy to everyone, because I surely did not deserve this much.

[y2kbeautyandother2000sstuff]

My parent's attic is the gift that keeps on giving! Im so happy I never got rid of any of these!! I love the mini dolls because then my regular AG dolls could have their own doll

American Girl Josephina and Felicity Mini Dolls

late 1990s

My personal picture of my stuff

[adelle-ein]

found my first ever american girl doll at a used doll sale for $35! had her school outfit and meet underwear/shoes, everything minus her bonnet and hair ribbon (gave her a new one, might make her a new hat.) her only issue is that her limbs are pretty floppy esp her legs, maybe one day i'll learn to restring her, but for now she can just sit nicely. i have weak hips too girl i get it. been wanting an 18 inch doll to sew and crochet for and just couldn't pass her up, from my rudimentary research i think she's the felicity that was being sold when i was a kid too

and yeah she has a little friendship bracelet from one of her old homes that i just had to leave on :')

[mahoganygold213]

Courrèges Fall Winter 2025-2026

[ratskull-spider]

"Easy money".

My handwriting is too ugly to understand, sorry.

[smileflowcr]

“According to the doctors, aka me, this is perfectly normal.”

"Es muy pronto para saber si es niño o niña, ¿Verdad?" sus manos se posen sobre el vientre bajo ropas ligeramente más holgadas y una sonrisa se dibuja en el rostro. Hyewon fue a un chequeo semanal con su doctor de confianza y mientras hablaba, recuerda como si fuese ayer el día cuando confirmó que el fruto de su amor con Suyeong logró concebir una pequeña criatura que -ahora- crece en su interior, a quién le canta todas las noches antes de dormir. "Te ves más feliz, Yohan, ¿Te hace ilusiona ser tío?" cuestiona, había tenido esta plática con Mei antes y sabe que la menor estaba emocionada por conocer al bebé y platicarle sobre plantas. [ @mikrokosmcs ]

[autumncottageattic]

Northanger Abbey is a 2007 British television film adaptation of Jane Austen's 1817 novel of the same name. Felicity Jones stars as the protagonist Catherine Morland and JJ Feild plays her love interest Henry Tilney.

Part II

[womenofwrestlingfashion]

Monique Amber Tortoise Orange Lens Sunglasses from Ryan Simkhai Eyeshop ($54) & Felicity Mini Dress in Green Multi from Princess Polly ($65 - sold out)

[dragon-dress-128]

I really just went “What if these two knew each other?” And then made this

[shokolu]

Estoy segura que en una vida paralela estamos siendo felices. ✨

[spindledreams]

Okay, I need to assess and prioritize repairs now that my mother is home and I can't have my tool kits all over the kitchen. I really could use a dedicated workshop but that's not gonna happen in this house and we're not even able to look at new houses till the fall. Even then my "workshop" will likely be a deep sink and a workbench in the garage.

Anyway. I am still working on the other two Felicities, though what we're down to there is stain removal and that, I'm learning, may take a long time. So I need to focus on other girls for now.

To that end, the following dolls need the following work:

- Götz Hans and Lee need shoes. Lee needs a jacket.

- Felicity only needs her necklace.

- Josefina needs cleaning, restringing, hair restoration. Her clothes need cleaning and I need to buy her necklace and either buy or make shoes.

- Kirsten needs cleaning, restringing, hair restoration, and an eye swap with Marie Grace.

- Addy is cleaned and fixed up, but I need to track down her meet clothes and accessories. I'm hoping this doesn't end up requiring another doll purchase.

- Samantha 1 needs cleaning up, restringing, hair restoration.

- Samantha 2 hasn't shipped yet - I bought her for her clothes, and will fix up the doll to resell another time but she will also need cleaning up at least. Unsure yet what work her clothes will need, but I will need to buy stockings and shoes for her.

- Molly 1 (mine) needs cleaning, restringing, hair restoration, and stain removal. Her clothes need cleaning and she needs shoes.

- Molly 2 (Daughter's) needs cleaning, restringing, hair restoration. Her clothes need cleaning.

- Marie Grace needs earring holes filled, an eye swap with Kirsten, probably also an eye repaint after that swap, hair restoration or a new wig, piercings, tattoos, and new clothes.

- JLY4 needs cleaning, restringing, eye repainting, and a name.

- Mini Molly needs a cleaning.

- Bitty Baby needs cleaning and clothes - I bought her to make clothes for but honestly I'm not sure I want to make baby doll clothes anymore so I might just let my daughter add her to her collection.

[qveenpoppy]

AG BROUGHT BACK THE MINI DOLLS!!!! i feel like they look cheaper than they used to be (and are definitely much higher in price too), but i'm still happy 'cause i feel like there are minis i never got that i'd love to have

[acupoffelicity]

i made a lil short of my hangout with my friends yesterday~

[darkraventombstone]

Un ganso en un jardín eh?

no se molestará en quedarse en este lugar

Mini comic

[cressidagrey]

Garage Time

Pairing: Oscar Piastri x Felicity Leong-Piastri (Original Character)

Summary: Felicity and Bee Piastri: Two Peas in a Pod

(divider thanks to @saradika-graphics )

Oscar had always known he wasn’t the smartest person in the house.

It wasn’t a competition. It wasn’t even close.

He could read tire degradation like a second language. He could predict weather shifts by the way wind moved across a track. He could tell you the weight of pressure on his back wheel just by how the steering wheel twitched in his hands.

But true brilliance—the intricate, layered, quietly relentless kind? That belonged to Felicity.

And now, it seemed, to Bee too.

He stood now in the open doorway of what used to be an old stable—transformed by Felicity into a workshop, a garage, and more recently, a sanctuary. It smelled like grease, dust, and something warm—like a life that had been lived in deeply. And it echoed, faintly, with the laughter of his four-year-old daughter and the murmur of her mother’s steady voice.

Bee was sitting on a stacked milk crate in her favorite overalls—dark blue with patches on the knees, one of which she’d sewn on herself with needle-sharp concentration. She was holding a mini flashlight and a torque wrench like they were holy relics. Her goggles were too big and kept sliding down her nose, but she pushed them up without pausing her inspection.

“Mama,” she said, very seriously, “the rust’s gotten worse again. The wire brush isn’t enough. We need the Dremel with the diamond bit.”

Without looking up, Felicity reached over and passed the exact attachment. “Already out. Be careful of the edges.”

Oscar just stood there, quietly floored.

They moved like clockwork—precise, in sync, saying more with glances than most people could manage in full conversations. There was a kind of sacredness to it. A ritual born from repetition, trust, and shared obsession.

The car in front of them—a fire-red ‘67 Alfa Romeo Spider— was half-dead. But he knew that it would run again. Because Felicity always took broken things and fixed them. Piece by piece, bolt by bolt. 

Their shared language wasn’t just tools and tasks. It was detail. Precision. Respect for the process.

Bee had preferences the same way her mother did—strong, specific ones. She didn’t like when the wrenches were out of order. She couldn’t focus if her socks didn’t match. She insisted on a clipboard instead of a notebook and wanted her snacks in “even-numbered bites.” Her world made sense when things were in place. When they followed the rules she understood.

Oscar leaned on the doorframe, watching as Felicity wiped grease off her hands and adjusted her ponytail with the calm confidence of someone who knew how to make something run again.

“Should I take out the bolts on the intake next?” Bee asked, peering over the engine like a surgeon.

“Not yet,” Felicity said, crouching beside her. “We check the seals first. Otherwise we’re redoing work we didn’t have to.”

Bee nodded solemnly. “That’s inefficient.”

Oscar could barely process it. His three-year-old was talking about mechanical inefficiency.

He scratched the back of his neck, a grin tugging at his lips. “I feel like I should be helping.”

Felicity looked up at him, eyes gleaming. “You are helping.”

“By standing here and trying not to mess anything up?”

“Exactly.”

Bee giggled. “Papa, your hands are too big for the screws. And you said last time the engine ‘judged you.’”

“It did!” Oscar protested. “It made a weird noise. I don’t trust it.”

Felicity rolled her eyes fondly. “It was the starter clicking. Because you wired it backward.”

“Okay,” he muttered. “We don’t all come with a degree in car resurrection.”

But he didn’t mind.

 Not even a little.

Because as he watched Felicity patiently show Bee how to handle the dremel, the way she knelt beside her daughter without condescension, the way Bee looked at her like she was a superhero in greasy overalls—it hit him again.

These two?

 They were brilliant.

Felicity, with her steady mind and quieter kind of sharpness. The woman who once redesigned their kitchen shelving because she couldn’t stand inefficient spatial flow.

And Bee, who had probably invented three new tools in her head before snack time.

He was raising a genius. And he’d married one too.

And somehow—by some miracle—they both loved him. 

He stepped closer. Bee didn’t look up. “If you mess up the socket order again, Mama said you’ll be benched.”

Felicity snorted softly. “Fair warning. Last week you rearranged them by size instead of frequency of use.”

“Because that makes sense!”

“Not to us,” Bee said without looking up. “We sort by practicality, not aesthetics.”

Oscar put both hands in the air. “Understood. I’m on thin ice.”

He sat on the edge of the workbench, watching as Felicity guided Bee’s hand on the Dremel with practiced calm. Bee's brows were furrowed in concentration, tongue poking out slightly, the same way Felicity looked when she was threading electrical wire.

They even leaned the same way when they worked—weight over their left hip, elbow tucked in, steady, focused.

God, they were so alike.

Same quiet brilliance. Same way of existing in a world that didn’t always understand how particularity could be a comfort.

Oscar loved them for it.

Even if he sometimes felt like a different species.

Still, he didn’t mind. He’d take the role of “fuel technician” or “guy who messes up the wrench order” any day if it meant getting to watch this.

“Do you want me to get snacks?” he asked eventually.

Bee perked up immediately. “Apple juice, please. Cold. In the bee cup. The one with the yellow straw.”

Felicity added, “And banana bread. No crust. Don’t forget the butter this time.”

Oscar grinned. “See? I have a purpose.”

“You’re our supply chain,” Bee said, solemn and sweet.

He headed for the kitchen, but his thoughts lingered behind.

Because here, in the garage, Bee shone.

But outside of it—at kindergarten, in playgroups, at birthday parties—she dimmed. Just a little. Enough for him to notice. Enough that it ached.

She preferred machines to playgrounds. She corrected her teachers, and she’d rather spend the day with chickens and torque specs than kids her age. She reached for her mama’s hand instinctively at parties, only relaxed when Felicity was near, and she quietly dimmed herself when other children didn’t understand her.

He worried about what the world would do with a girl like her.

With a girl who didn’t shrink for anyone. Who asked questions teachers couldn’t answer. 

Who didn’t just think outside the box—she would take the box apart with a ratchet set, draw schematics for a new one, and filed a request to optimize the corners.

Bee didn’t fit neatly anywhere.

Except here.

Here, in the workshop with her mother—who got it. Who was it. Who had been that same sharp-edged, too-bright child once. The one who asked too many questions and took apart toasters to understand thermodynamics.

And Oscar… didn’t know what to do with that. Not really.

He loved that Bee was uniquely herself. He wouldn’t change her for the world. But part of him worried, about how hard the world could be on girls who didn’t make themselves easier to understand.

So he made snacks.

He carved out spaces for her to be seen. To be known. He bought her every kind of notebook and wrench and Lego motor he could find, and he kept the world soft when it felt too loud for her.

In the kitchen, he poured apple juice for Bee and mango for Felicity. He cut thick slices of banana bread and added three forks—just in case Bee was in one of her “tools for everything” moods.

As he plated everything, he caught his reflection in the darkened microwave door—messy hair, oil smudge on his hoodie from leaning too close to Bee earlier, and a smile he couldn’t quite wipe away.

The kind of smile that came from a life that didn’t need spotlight to shine.

When he returned to the garage, it was quieter now, but only in the way a good story quiets down before the twist.

Bee was kneeling on a foam mat with a serious expression, focused on drawing something on a clipboard— Oscar could see crude sketches: rectangles, labels, what looked like airflow arrows.

Felicity was beside her, wiping down a set of socket wrenches, her ponytail starting to fall loose. There was grease on her jawline and a streak of dirt across her sleeve. She looked radiant.

Oscar set the snacks down on the workbench gently. “Refueling, as requested.”

Bee looked up from her clipboard. “Thank you, Papa.”

Oscar smiled. “You’re welcome, Bumblebee.”

She handed him her sketch. “I redesigned the air filter casing.”

It was crude and hand-drawn, but shockingly insightful.

“She got the concept from my old Haynes manual,” Felicity said, already chewing her bite of bread. “I left it on the shelf by accident. She read the airflow diagrams before bed.”

Oscar blinked. “She’s three.”

Bee held up four fingers. “Almost four.”

He laughed and pressed a kiss to the top of her head. “Almost four and already smarter than me.”

Felicity smirked. “She gets it from me.”

“You both terrify me,” he muttered, but there was no real fear in his voice—only awe.

The three of them sat quietly for a while, Bee content to sketch while Felicity wiped her tools with a meticulous rhythm.

Oscar didn’t speak. Didn’t interrupt.

He just watched—content, in love, and quietly aware that he’d somehow been chosen by the two most remarkable people he’d ever met.

He might not always understand their blueprints, or why grease made them both so happy, or why the wrench order mattered so much—

But he didn’t need to.

They were his. He was theirs.

And that was more than enough.

He couldn’t predict how far Bee’s mind would go. Maybe she’d design cars instead of drive them. Maybe she’d run wind tunnel simulations in her sleep. Maybe she’d abandon it all for marine biology because she liked dolphins more than spark plugs.

He didn’t know.

What he did know was this:

He got to watch it happen. He got to be here. Even if he didn’t understand every detail, every gear, every tiny plan scribbled on scrap paper.

He got to be the one who brought the juice boxes. Who wiped grease off her cheek. Who kissed Felicity on the forehead while she calibrated torque like it was second nature.

He got to build a life alongside them.

He wasn’t the smartest in the house. Not by a long shot.

But he was the one who got to call it home.

And that? That was the best kind of win.