#family 🤍

[monjude]

[i-am-married]

Watch til the end…

Via

[christmasdaughter]

instagram

[snapbackslide]

This is so special 🤍

[finzphoenix]

Finally build up the courage to try my hand at a more shaped individuall, and I guess I'm somwhat happy with it?

He still lacks that mennace I wanted him to excude, but oh well, we're getting there :'>

[royaltea000]

Fourth of July is so funny cuz it’s the one time every year that people decades past their hetalia phase will wake up in a cold sweat and go “there’s only one character I can draw for this day… 👁️👁️💦”

[whateverisbeautiful]

"And you have a baby...

You become stronger than you've ever been...

Your heart becomes whole...

Everything you do is for that child."

~ Michonne Grimes (TWD 8.16 - deleted scene)

[lennadanvers]

His Home

Johnny Soap MacTavish x Ace!Reader

A/N: I'm a day late to Ace Week, but I really wanted to post this. I'd love to see more ace representation in fanfiction, so I'm doing my part. Plus, this kind of relationship has always been my favorite- there's something about undefined love that makes it perfect. I really like this one, so much that I wrote it while studying for my History exam. I hope you love it too, happy belated Ace Week!

Ghost is the first one to ask about it.

About you.

It’s late, you went to bed an hour ago, and Johnny offered him a beer. They’re looking at the empty front yard, a normal street in a normal neighborhood- a rare sight for soldiers of their kind. The food you and Soap made for the occasion sits warm in their bellies. The air smells of quiet and night.

Simon has known Johnny for a long time- and he has known him well. He didn’t know about this, though. He heard about you, of course. The first time Soap wasn’t sure if he’d make it back home, it was your name he mumbled. Instructions were clear: his dog tags were for you to receive. Along with everything else in his barracks. Ae dinnae care aboot all the rules. Ye gotta take me home tae ‘er.

Ghost knew you weren’t married- he would have seen it in his sergeant’s paperwork. He decided you were his girlfriend, then.

Until someone flirted with Johnny at a bar, and he happily told them he was single. Single. It didn’t lead anywhere, anyway; he came back to base with the rest of the team that night. Maybe he didn’t have a bird at home anymore, thought Simon.

But then there was the roommate. Soap was always talking about the roommate, how she would always leave hairs in the shower, how the laundry detergent smelled like flowers back home. It was said with fondness, the kind of affectionate jab one develops with family or very close friends. Ghost supposed you might be a childhood friend, then. Someone who had always been in Johnny’s life.

Come the end of their last mission, he had nowhere to stay at. His apartment was waiting for him, of course, but it was as empty and cold as any hotel room. His sergeant invited him home- tae meet ma girl. His girl. That was not a relationship status- no friend, no sister or girlfriend. Just girl, his girl.

He had to say yes.

Then there were you. Johnny’s age, bright eyes full of affection when you saw him. Small, soft hands ruffling the mohawk, saying it was getting out of hand. Nodding when he asked for another trim, bonnie, aye?

You hugged him around the neck, face under his chin. Ghost feared you would suffocate his sergeant. But Johnny’s face was pink, relaxed for the first time since before the mission. His arms were at your back, hands rounding your waist- they were used to that place. His nose deep in your hair- Simon felt like he was overstepping, like he wasn’t meant to see that. No one was.

Until you gave a step back- soft smile, soft eyes, soft Johnny- and welcomed him to your home. You called him L.T., like you knew him. Simon suspected you did. You didn’t try to shake his hand or- God forbid- hug him hello. You didn’t even risk a step into his personal space. He didn’t think it was out of fear- you didn’t blink twice at the black surgical mask. You just smiled and gave him a tour of the house.

That was another thing, the house. Tiny and tidy, cozy. Ghost didn’t have much experience with homes, but that’s what it looked like to him. A place lived in, well loved. A place with a past. Even more intriguing, a place with a future. By the way you talked, he gathered you weren’t renting. This place was owned. Something for the long run.

When you got to the hallway, though, you pointed to the last door. That’s my room! You can knock if you need anything, I’m a pretty light sleeper. Then to the one before that: That’s Johnny’s. Then the guest bedroom and the bathroom.

So you don’t sleep together.

Which would have been an answer to his curiosity, if it weren’t for the kitchen. After he left his stuff- a half-empty duffel bag- in the guest room, Simon went back to the small but charming space that is- all in one- your kitchen, living room and dining room. He was still in his soldier headspace, which means his steps were quiet. When he stepped into the kitchen, neither you nor Soap noticed him there.

You were laughing, hand on his bicep, eyes closed. Johnny was smiling. His shoulders down, his face soft. He grabbed your hand and brought you closer in a weird hug. You swayed together, and Simon almost heard the music you were dancing to. It went on for a while. Johnny went to grab a knife and you’d already placed the cutting board in front of him. You grabbed the oven mitt and he opened the oven.

You two are the perfect machine, always knowing where the other is going next. The smiles never falter. For the first time in years, Simon feels like he’s in a home. It’s confusing and startling. How come Soap has this waiting for him? How is he even able to go on deployment, knowing he might not have the chance to dance around you in the kitchen again?

The thought sparks memories. Soap’s sketchbook, a gleaming eye peeking from the page. His tactical jacket, jasmine perfume as they march through a field. A hair tie in the keychain. Gunpowder hands buying a bracelet in a faraway country. Making flower crowns while waiting for the target to show up. Dodging bullets with blue fevered eyes. Take me home tae ‘er.

He cleared his throat, and you handled him the plates to set on the table.

After dinner, you said goodnight. Johnny kissed your cheek; I left some beers in the fridge. Another kiss on the forehead. You waved at Simon, sweet and tired. Soap’s eyes followed you through the hallway.

Out in the cool night air, Simon asks.

“Tha’ ‘er?”

Soap flinches in his seat. The bottle in his hand twinkles under the stars. Doesn’t seem willing to reply. Maybe he doesn’t know how.

“The one from yer drawings?”

The nod is soft.

“Aye.”

Interrogation is an art. Ghost knows many ways to get information out of people. None of them work better on his sergeant than silence. The man has a need to fill empty spaces.

So he waits until Johnny takes the bait.

“A’v always known her.”

Another silence. Simon doesn’t need to ask the question out loud.

“We arenae datin. She isnae ma girlfriend. Or wife,” Jhonny’s voice is warm and liquid. “She's the love o ma life.”

Curiosity bubbles again. How does this life fit with the man out in the field? How come a cozy little house is home to a demolition expert?

“How’s tha’ work?”

Soap’s shoulders tighten, preparing for a defensive stance.

“She doesnae want sex.”

That’s not quite an answer, so Simon waits. Johnny’s back relaxes slowly, as if relieved by the lack of a reaction.

“But ‘a dinnae care aboot all that stuff. She's here whan ‘a come home, an she takes care o’ me. A tak care o’ her. Thare's nothin more than that.”

Nothing more he could ask for. Nothing more he’d ever want. His eyes glow blue, melting ice in the night. Ghost wonders, surprised, how he never saw it. How he didn’t realize.

After that, he doesn’t ask any more questions. There’s nothing else he’d need to know, really. When the bottles are empty and the air a little too cold, they retreat to their rooms.

The next morning, Simon stays in bed a little longer than usual. He listens to your soft steps in the hallway, the little knock on the door and Johnny’s raspy laugh. He hears the sheets and the whispers, the way he tells you stories about their last deployement- some true (only the lighter ones), the rest made up, with a handsome, Scottish hero. He pictures you tucked in Johnny’s side, his hand in your hair, easy smiles lighting up the room. And he understands. Once again, his sergeant’s words sound in his head.

A dinnae care aboot the rules. She’s ma girl, L.T.

[world-of-wales]

❥ 29 JULY 2024 | Kensington Palace released a personal statement on behalf of the Prince and Princess of Wales, sending condolences following the attack in Southport.

The statement released read,

As parents, we cannot begin to imagine what the families, friends and loved ones of those killed and injured in Southport today are going through.

We send our love, thoughts and prayers to all those involved in this horrid and heinous attack.

Thank you also to the emergency responders who, despite being met with the most horrific scenes, demonstrated compassion and professionalism when your community needed you most.

W & C

[monjude]

[i-am-married]

Instagram

[foreverinthepagesofhistoryy]

~ ♔ ꧁ OTMA ꧂ ♔ ~

❧ “In the darkness of the mystery which surrounds the fate of these innocent children it is with poignant emotion that I recall them as they appeared, so full of life and joy, in those distant, yet incredibly near, days before the World War and the downfall of Imperial Russia.”

❧ “Olga was perhaps the cleverest of them all, her mind being so quick to grasp ideas, so absorbent of knowledge that she learned almost without application or close study. Her chief characteristics, I should say, were a strong will and a singularly straightfor, ward habit of thought and action.”

❧ “Tatiana was almost a perfect reincarnation of her mother. Taller and slenderer than her sisters, she had the soft, refined features and the gentle, reserved manners of her English ancestry. Kindly and sympathetic of disposition, she displayed towards her younger sisters and her brother such a protecting spirit that they, in fun, nicknamed her "the governess."

❧ “Marie had splendid eyes and rose-red cheeks. She was inclined to be stout and she had rather thick lips which detracted a little from her beauty. Marie had a naturally sweet disposition and a very good mind.”

❧ “Anastasia, a sharp and clever child, was a very monkey for jokes, some of them at times almost too practical for the enjoyment of others. I remember once when the family was in their Polish estate in winter the children were amusing themselves at snowballing. The imp which sometimes seemed to possess Anastasia led her to throw a stone rolled in a snowball straight at her dearly loved sister Tatiana. The missile struck the poor girl fairly in the face with such force that she fell senseless to the ground. The grief and horror of Anastasia lasted for many days and permanently cured her of her worst propensities to practical jokes.”

- Anna Vyrubova (friend and personal confidante of Empress Alexandra Feodorovna)

[leonisandmurex]

William & Catherine + kiss me – sixpence none the richer♪

[queenalexandraofdenmark]

💐🤍 ~ Alexandra, Princess of Wales, 1862. ~ 🤍💐

[royalfriday]

BOOTHILL 🖤❤️🤍 THOUGHT TIME

-We all know his backstory. He had nany adopted siblings and one adopted daughter tgat all dies when the ipc explored the planet. But has anyone thought the chance that some/ one of his siblings wasn't in the planet in that moment? So they still alive while Boothill thinks everyone from his past are dead. And they are somewhere in the galaxy and have heard that he survived but they don't know where he is and people they ask say they don't know. Because even if they have seen Boothill they know him with that name while the sibling reference to him with his dead name.

So it's just two siblings with the one looking for the other and the other things they are dead .

[joansiesbeloved]

Joan Bennett Kennedy with husband Ted, Eunice, Pat, Jean, and her children. Circa 1960s-70s.