#i promise this is a love letter to all of them

[laurellala]

Fun fact! This was the real tipping point that made Edgeworth run away after AA1, they just couldn't show it on screen because they didn't have the rights to Chappell Roan's music <3

(A spiritual successor to my "Hot to Go" joke from this post. Image description under the cut below)

[Image ID: a four page black and white comic of characters from ace attorney.

The Judge stands solemnly at his podium holding a gavel "Mr. Miles Edgeworth, you are on trial for the murder of blah blah blah..."

A cheerful Maya Fey leans over to Miles Edgeworth, who is staring straight ahead and looking very concerned

Maya: "Psst! Mr. Edgeworth! If you win your trial, can I show you Chappell Roan?

Miles: "What the hell, sure." Internally he thinks "Oh God I am going to jail"

A box saying "later" in the top corner of the next panel marks the passage of time.

The Judge smiles as he says "I declare you... Not Guilty!"

We see a full body shot of Maya dancing excitedly while Miles looks on, emotionless

Maya: YIPPEE omg you're going to LOVE this

Miles internally thinks "oh no, the consequences of my actions.

We see Miles standing in between Phoenix Wright and Maya looking apprehensive. Maya beams in excitement, while Nick puts a reassuring hand on Miles' shoulder

Miles: Alright, so what is this exactly?

Nick: She's a pop musician Maya really likes

Maya: You promised you'd let me show you, and it's legally binding because you said it in a court room!

Miles: That is not how the law works Ms. Fey

Maya: Shh just listen!

We see a panel of Miles' pensive face concentrating as he listens to "Hot to Go". He thinks to himself "hm".

Another panel zoomed in more. His pensive expression has grown more tense/confused as he listens to "Red Wine Supernova". he again thinks to himself "Hm" in a larger thought bubble.

We zoom out again to see Nick, Miles, and Maya standing together again. Miles stares forward blankly, eyebrows raised. Maya excitedly leans in.

Maya: Ok, that's her whole discography. So! What did you think?

Nick looks at him, waiting for his response

We get a panel of Miles, looking bewildered. He starts to speak "I..."

We cut again to see the three of them standing together.

Miles: I... don't think I like women?

Miles looks shocked and confused. Nick is bent over laughing, using a hand on Miles's shoulder to support himself. Maya looks outraged and appalled!

Maya: MR. EDGEWORTH! Just because you don' like her musi it doesn't give you an excuse to be sexist!

We see a panel of Miles looking stressed and confused. He leans his head on one of his hands, which messes up his hair, showing how he isn't his normal put together self.

Miles: I should rephrase that. What I mean is, Ms. Roan is clearly VERY assured in her feelings towards women. I was... unaware that anyone felt that strongly. I thought we all viewed these things with a vague sense of distaste and unease but collectively ignored it. Like how we do with climate change.

We zoom out again to see the three of them. Miles stands in the middle looking deeply uncomfortable and lost in thought, vibrating with unease. Nick and Maya exchange deeply concerned glances across from him.

With lingering unease, Miles begins to walk away.

Miles: Well, I should be going then. Goodnight.

Nick hesitantly raises a finger to point out an inaccuracy in that statement

Nick: It's four in the afternoon-

he gets interrupted by Miles who repeats firmly: I said Goodnight

Nick looks in the direction Miles walked off in.

Nick: ...He'll be ok, right?

Maya reassures him: Of cours Nick! I mean, what's the worst that can happen?

Jump cut to a closeup of Nick's hand holding Miles' letter which reads Miles Edgeworth chooses death in all caps. Then, below in smaller font, it says Also femininomenon was really good, thanks.

We see a panel of Nick glaring wordlessly at Maya as he holds the letter in his hand. Maya leans against the wall and looks away, whistling, trying to look innocent to avoid blame.

As a bonus, we also have a page that takes place a year later. Miles and Nick stand talking. Miles looks calmer now, and Nick smiles encouragingly.

Miles: In my time in Europe, I've been examining myself and my approach to law. Ultimately, the most important focus must be justice. We owe it to ourselves and to the people we serve

Nick: Wow, that's really inspiring Edgeworth. And, uh, hows the... the other thing going?

We get a zoomed in panel of Miles glaring menacingly at a suddenly nervous Nick

Jumping out again, Miles turns his back to Nick as he continues to talk

Miles: So as I was saying, justice is truly so important...

Nick nervously rubs the back of his neck wearing an awkward expression as he sweats nervously. He thinks to himself internally "Ooookay then, clearly still working through some things there"

/.End ID]

[beloveds-embrace]

I live for the Found Family trope, it is like the air I breath and the dukedom AU is an amazing found family AU. Like the dutchess family never really cared for her, she was a commodity to be sold to her husband for political gain and she expected a life of abuse and servitude under his control, just like she was to her parents. But then she meets these amazing 4 men who worship the ground she walks on and takes time to actually get to know her and appreciate and love her and for the first time in her life she realises what a family is all about. Its love and acceptance and it is so so beautiful. And if her parents were cruel to her before her marriage and they find out? They say hell hath no fury like a woman scorned, but those boys would do everything in their power to destory her birth families reputaion and burn them to the ground.

FOUND FAMILY TROPE IS SO GOOD I ADORE IT 😩 i fully agree with you babes it makes me soo happy to write and see duchess getting loved like this

Dukedom 141 masterlist

You had spent your entire life as a pawn on your parents’ chessboard. A daughter shaped and molded not for love but for utility- trained to smile, to bow, to obey, first and then for your eventual husband. Your parents had made it clear that your worth lay in what you could offer them: alliances, power, status, and children. When they married you off, it wasn’t for your happiness. It was to seal a deal, and you had braced yourself for a life of cold, unfeeling servitude.

But then… there was John. And Kyle. And Simon. And Johnny.

You hadn’t expected kindness. You hadn’t expected warmth. You certainly hadn’t expected love. But that’s what you found with them anyways, a safe place to let your tender little heart rest and be adored

Johnny, with his reckless charm and unwavering loyalty, was the first to make you laugh when you thought you never would again. Kyle, steady and dependable, made you feel safe in ways you hadn’t even known you needed. Simon, sharp-tongued and fiercely protective, saw straight through your walls and vowed to stand guard at their gates. And John-your husband in name, but so much more than that in heart- looked at you like you were his entire world and made sure you never doubted it.

A family forged- not by blood, but by choice. And for the first time, you understood what family was supposed to be. It was laughter shared over quiet dinners and comfort offered without question. It was hands that held you steady, hands that didn’t hurt or inflict pain on you, but rather held you like you meant the world. And voices that called your name not as an order but as a promise. It was love, unconditional and endless.

When your birth family cams for a visit, they thought they still held power over you. They thought their words and threats could send you crawling back, begging for their approval. Cruelty lacing every letter and ever word, meant to remind you that they truly view you as something to be used and abused per their wants and needs.

But they hadn’t accounted for the four men who stood by your side now.

Johnny laughed at their arrogance when they demanded to see the chef because they weren’t happy with the food, sharp and biting, remembering how he had to spend nights promising you that you weren’t losing or gaining weight, you didn’t need to skip out on meals out of fear- he knows it was all their fault and he hates them. Kyle, calm but cold, began drafting plans to dismantle their influence piece by piece, never once hesitating, from the very second he witness the way they brushed you aside and didn’t let you speak. Simon was already spreading whispers that would see their allies turn against them, and John- oh, John- made it clear that any further attempts to harm you would be met with ruin, his voice sharp and eyes sharper, pullinh you behind him gently when it was clear your parents might strike you.

Because hell hath no fury like a woman scorned? No.

Hell hath no fury like the men who love her.

And to you, it was such a beautiful fury.

[munsonfamilyband]

Slick Sunday post for @lexirosewrites !! I decided to just post it like this since this is probably going to be long. I do promise it has christmas in it but there’s a build up to that. Also very minor TW for child abuse. It’s less than a sentence but still. And also, this is canon up till s4, I don’t really know how different it is, the important thing is that Chrissy lived and Eddie didn’t get eaten as much as he does in canon.

—————

It starts in 1987. It’s late November, Steve has unofficially taken over his house since he hasn’t spoken to his parents in so long he doesn’t even remember. Eddie and Robin are over helping him decorate their tree. They’re all wearing ugly sweaters and pajamas. Steve and Eddie had just started officially courting, while Robin and Chrissy were still dancing around each other. She was in the middle of lamenting her latest failed attempt to ask her out when the front door opens and the Harringtons enter. A fight breaks out pretty quickly and it culminates in a few smashed ornaments, Steve getting slapped, Eddie being literally sat on by Robin to keep him calm, and Steve being told his things needed to be gone by the next day. He’s told that his behavior is not that of a Harrington.

And then they’re gone.

Eddie forces Robin off of him so he can hold Steve, and she goes to call Hopper. He and Steve had been close before Starcourt and since he came back last year they’re reconnected. (Steve calls him dad behind his back, he’s too scared to say it to Hop’s face yet.)

Hop shows up a few minutes later, only to be followed by one very angry Claudia Henderson. She explains that El had called Dustin on the walkie about the phone call she overheard and Claudia left right away.

They both start helping him pack once they know he’s okay and they all go to Hop’s cabin for dinner. While they’re eating Steve casually mentions that he wants to change his name. What he thought would be a casual comment with little fanfare resulted in Claudia baring her teeth at Hop as they argued over who got to bring Steve into their family officially. It would be scarier if Steve wasn’t ready to cry from how loved it makes him feel. He does eventually have to burst their bubble and tell them he wants to be a Buckley. This does get Hop and Claudia to calm down but it also gets Steve tackled off his chair by Robin in a hug.

Fast forward, it’s now the mid 90s. Chrissy and Robin live in the brownstone next to Eddie and Steve in Chicago. Steve and Eddie got married two years ago and earlier that fall they had learned Steve was pregnant. They had so far only told Robin and Chrissy, but that was because Steve was at home while Eddie was at work and he begged Robin to come with him to buy tests. Both Eddie and Steve knew it was time to tell everyone else, since he had just finished the first trimester and with christmas coming up they decided to go with the most cliche announcement possible.

The four of them go back to Hawkins for the holidays. Robin and Chrissy are staying at the Buckley’s and Eddie and Steve are staying at Hop’s cabin.

The first person they tell is Wayne. They have dinner with him for christmas eve and then over dessert exchange presents. Eddie gets a new set of steel toed boots and Steve gets a new coat. Then they hand Wayne his gift and Eddie grabs their camcorder to record his reaction. Inside is a new baseball hat placed upside down with something balled up inside it. Wayne takes the cloth out and flips the hat around, freezing as he reads it, then quickly dropping it and picking up what is now clearly a onesie. In bold letters the onesie says ‘Grandpa’s Fishin’ Buddy’. The hat says ‘Grandpa is my name, Fishing is my game’. Wayne, still gripping the onesie in his hands looks up at them with wet eyes.

“Is this… I’m gonna be a grandpa?”

Eddie can’t stop smiling behind the camera and he turns it slightly to catch Steve as he smiles at Wayne, giving little jazz hands as he says, “surprise.”

Eddie just barely pans back to Wayne to catch him standing up to pull Steve into a hug.

“I’m so happy for you two. Ed, you better put that thing down and get in here.”

———

The next people they tell are the Henderson’s. While Dustin will also be at Hop’s that night, Steve had wanted to be able to see his mom for christmas so for years they had been doing brunch at the Henderson’s before the three guys go to Hop’s and Claudia goes to get some extra hours working at the hospital.

They show up right on time with their gifts and enjoy breakfast before it’s present time. Dustin gets the new Dungeons and Dragons book that had just come out and a new set of dice that looked like the night sky. Steve gets a new cookbook and a scarf. Eddie gets a scarf as well as a new toolbox for work. Then Steve hands over the gift bag to Claudia, but before she opens it he turns to Dustin while Eddie gets the camcorder again.

“Dustin, I need you to promise me, right now, that what you see right now will not be told to anyone today. Got it?”

Dustin rolls his eyes as he responds, “Dude, it’s just a gift-“

“Dustin. Promise me,” Steve interjects.

After they stare at each other for another 30 seconds Dustin gives a dramatic sigh and promises. With that done Steve gives Claudia the okay to open her gift. She takes out the tissue paper and pulls a folded up sweatshirt and a folded canvas bag out. The bag is unfolded first and Claudia gasps, quickly unfolding the sweater and then dropping them both to rush over to hug Steve.

“Oh, I’m so happy for you! My baby!” Claudia is crying as she and Steve hold each other tight, Steve laughing with pure joy. Eddie catches Dustin standing up out of the corner of his eye and refocuses the camera on him, following him as he goes over and picks up the items his mom dropped. The bag says ‘Grandma’s Magic Bag’ and the sweatshirt says ‘World’s Best Grandma’. Dustin stares at them and then he’s shouting.

“You guys are having a pup?!”

Eddie just grins at him over the camera as he asks, “You ready to be Uncle Dustin?” Eddie then barely keeps the camera from breaking as Dustin rushes him in a hug.

———-

Their final present is that evening at Hop’s. Steve is drinking hot cider and curled into Eddie’s side on the couch, Robin right next to him with a hand on his ankle, Chrissy on her other side laughing as Max shares a story about college. Steve looks around the room and sees Dustin already staring at him, practically vibrating in his seat. It’s clear that he’s doing his best to not spill the beans so Steve huffs a laugh and claps to get everyone’s attention.

“Alright, present time?”

The next minute or so is a rush of movement as everyone finds a spot and grabs their gifts, Steve holding tight to his gift for Hop. Eddie had El help him hide the camera earlier so she can turn it on without giving anything away.

Presents are passed around and opened. Max gave Steve a new poster for his classroom, and Robin got him the fancy desk organizer set he had been looking at for months. Mike got Eddie new patches for his work coveralls and Will gave them a beautiful painted version of their wedding photo. (Steve does tear up over it but tries to cover up as best he can, stupid pup hormones).

Then Steve stands and hands Hop his bag, giving El a wink as he walks past her and he sees her squint her eyes for a breath before giving him a wink back. Steve settles back in to Eddie’s side and gives Hop the go ahead. He pulls out what is clearly a mug wrapped in tissue paper with a hat stuffed into it. Hop takes the hat out first and looks at it, his face unreadable, before he sets it down with the words hidden. He quickly takes off the tissue paper and reads the mug. His face is still blank but everyone can see his eyes filling with tears as he makes eye contact with Steve.

Eddie gives Steve a little nudge and that’s all it takes for him to get up and go hug his dad, being wrapped up in his arms as Hop cries. After a beat where it’s still silent Hop speaks, looking over at Eddie. “Years ago, I thought I would never get to be a grandpa.” Steve just hugs him tighter and the room around them erupts as everyone starts screaming. Eddie gets dog piled by the boys, excluding Dustin who has collapsed on the floor from the relief of not having to hide that anymore. Steve feels two people wrap around him from behind and glancing at their arms he sees that it’s El and Max, both hugging him. When everyone has calmed more Steve goes back to sit with Eddie, who can now place his hand on Steve’s stomach. Hop sits down and finally shows everyone his gifts. The mug has a sheriff’s badge and it says ‘Chief Gramps’ and the hat says ‘Professional Grandpop’. Hop puts it on his head that night and refuses to take it off.

———————

Et viola. Also, this is Wayne’s hat because I love it so much:

[multific]

My Venus

Dmitri Kravinoff x Reader

Burlesque!AU 

Summary: He was drawn to you.

From the moment his eyes locked with yours.

He knew he had to have you.

You loved to tease men.

It was what you were paid to do.

You had a show, quite popular, they called you Venus Sherry. 

You worked in a bar as a burlesque performer.

Many people, men and women enjoyed your show to the fullest.

At the beginning of each, you would come out of a beautiful shell. Your routine was specifically designed to entertain all. 

But it seemed like you had caught the eye of a young man more than anyone else's in the bar.

Not much younger than you, he always sat at the VIP table with a glass of whiskey in front of him. 

Or could it be that he caught your eye? 

For the last few months, he has been coming to see your shows. He never missed one. 

"Frank? What's the name of the man at the VIP table?" the bouncer looked at you and shrugged his shoulders.

"Some Russian guy. I forgot his name... It was something with the letter D."

Mr D. You decided to call him.

He never gave you the vibes of other guests. They came to enjoy the show, some turned out to be full creeps but not him. He was mesmerized.

His eyes were filled with passion and admiration.

You liked that.

It wasn't only lust.

It was something new.

Something different.

Something exciting.

And it got more and more exciting as the days passed.

Each show you pretended there was no one else, only him and you.

You danced for him. You teased him.

And you smiled at him. 

You never smiled like that at anyone else.

"Frank?" you asked as your door opened.

"Mr D wants to see you." Frank said as you got up from your chair.

You were fully dressed, ready for your show but you had better things to do now.

Your heart hammered in your chest as you approached his desk, he quickly stood up to greet you.

He was short. 

Not like that mattered, but he was handsome, which did matter.

"Ms Venus Sherry, my name is Dmitri Kravinoff. It is a pleasure to meet you, I have been a huge fan of your... work." You handed your hand to him to shake but he kissed the back of it instead. "Please, take a seat."

And you did.

"So, Dmitri, nice to put a name to the face I have been seeing so often."

"May I know the real name of My Venus?"

You smiled at his request but you ended up telling him your name.

There was just something about him.

You needed to know more.

---

Dmitri Kravinoff is possibly the man of your dreams and desires.

He sent you flowers after all of your shows.

Red roses.

To show his love for you.

And you danced for him. 

You feared he only liked you because of Venus. You feared he believed in your illusion too much.

But he didn't.

His eyes said it all.

His eyes looked beyond the costumes and make up.

And so, it didn't take you long to quit your career as Venus Sherry. 

"I will take care of you. I promise." he whispered and he didn't lie. 

Dimitri asked you to move in with him and quit your job. You could see the jealousy in his eyes. 

He only wanted you for him.

"Others get Venus, but you have me as a woman, as Y/N." you told him.

You weren't sure if it was good to fall in love so quickly. But it was so easy to love him.

Not his name, not his business and not his money. But him, Dmitri.

You could tell he did everything to win you over with his money but in the end, it was he who captured your heart. 

You stood out on his balcony, looking over London with a cup of tea in your hands. It was morning, people were going to work as you watched them.

The arms that wrapped around you made you jump and almost spill your tea. 

"You scared me."

"What are you doing up so early?" he whispered into your neck.

"Couldn't sleep." 

"Didn't I tire you out enough?" you smiled at him as he turned you to face him.

"You did. I just have too many thoughts."

"You and your clever mind, My Love. I told you to let them all go."

"I know. And I will." his hand was placed on your cheek before it moved to your temple, he closed his fist as if collecting your thoughts and threw them away. 

"I love you so much." he said to you with a beautiful smile.

"I love you too Dimi."

Taglist: 

@castellandiangelo @imagines-by-a-typical-fangirl @manduse @jacalineiscomingforyou 

@mandoloriancookie @deliciousfestsalad @lilliumrorum @asgards-princess-of-mischief 

@fallout-girl219 @dracaryxzs @snowtargaryen @mel-vaz

~Masterlist~

ˇAO3ˇ

/YOU DO NOT HAVE PERMISSION TO TRANSLATE, TO STEAL ANY OF MY WORKS/

[shyamanuensis]

love your work! any chance for some sad sebastian? you write sad ominis with such grace i'd love a little more drama if possible. xoxoxox

I swear someone is listening in on the conversations @eva-fitzgerald and I have because we literally were talking about this earlier today. A lazy oneshot written in the car as we drive home for Christmas. Enjoy xx

“So, what do I tell everyone if you don’t come home one night?” “The truth – that I died doing my job.”

The small black box I held in my hands was standard government issue. A ‘goodbye box’ was what most widows of ministry workers called them, however only being engaged, I wasn’t sure the lingo applied in my situation. What was usually delivered by a high-end ministry official, had been brought by instead by his best friend. Waking up to the sound of knocking at my cottage door a little after 3am, Ominis was the last person I expected to be standing there. His choice of words deliberate – tone cold, yet soft as he spoke. As if hearing what he was saying with a more sympathetic, yet straightforward voice would make things easier. However, irrespective of what he saw, experienced and recollected throughout the current ongoing wizarding war; it was obvious that the requirement of delivering bad news never got easier.

“And you think the kids will understand?” “Sweetheart, I’m doing this for them.”

Stumbling back into the house, I left the door open for Ominis to follow through and took a seat on a sofa; balancing the small black box on the tops of my thighs as hands cradled the lid to lift it and peek inside. I could feel my breathing hitch, my skin begin to burn, hot tears fall into the corners of my eyes. I knew however, I had to stay quiet and not wake the sleeping toddlers in their bedrooms. Feeling Ominis hand on my shoulder; gently rubbing as it travelled along onto my back I sighed softly, knowing this day would have to one day come.

“Sebastian you’re being unreasonable.” “No, you just aren’t being supportive.”

The first thing my eyes flickered over in the box was his auror badge; employee number etched into the back as if that’s all he was. Beside this, the trusty broken teal checkerboard wand handle I knew had failed him. There were a few folded pieces of parchment, notes maybe or letters unsent. Beneath them a photo of the children poking out from behind the cover of a leather-bound journal I’d one day bring myself to read. That was what made the first tears fall. In silence. The photograph of the children.

“You know what, I’m sick of this argument. Just... go.” “Promise you, we’ll talk more about it when I get home.”

Closing the lid; I managed to keep it together only barely as I placed the box on the coffee table and picked nervously at my lips. A quick look at Ominis which held vulnerability, naivety and despair without a single word spoken had him responding that he’d stay until the children woke up; knowing that right now, solitude was not what I needed. Pinching the bridge of my nose, I sighed dryly, remembering our last conversation before Sebastian left for work the previous evening. A heated argument: words left unsaid, tensions high as they had been the last few weeks; knowing through whispers, rumours and phone calls what he’d be dealing with and going through.

“…fine.” “I love you.”

I’d never have the chance to turn back time and reply. The image of him leaving home for work one I’d forever have etched into the back of my mind. We’d promised each other we’d never argue before work or before going to bed; but the regret of our last conversation would haunt me now forever. Ominis rubbed my knee gently before whispering that he��d go and check on the kids. And once alone; in the darkness of this house with a fireplace dying out which no longer felt like a home, the cries came crashing down uncontrollably.

[lvnleah]

— christmas list | our little love series 🎄

find the twelve days of Christmas masterlist here!

The kitchen smelled of fresh cookies, the scent lingering from the batch you had baked earlier with Beth and Viv. You sat at the kitchen island, swinging your legs back and forth, a piece of paper spread out in front of you. Your pink crayon was poised in your tiny hand, your tongue poking out in concentration as you focused on writing your name at the top of the page.

“R… O… R… What’s next, Mamma?” you asked, glancing at Viv with wide eyes.

“The letter Y, mijn meisje,” Viv said from her spot across the island, sipping her tea. She leaned forward slightly to watch you, her soft smile filled with pride. “You’re doing great.”

“Thanks, Mamma!” you grinned, carefully adding the Y and then squinting at the paper. “I think it’s done.”

Beth came up behind you, peering over your shoulder. “Let’s see, then. Rory… and what’s this?” she teased, pointing to the backwards Y you’d scrawled at the end. “A new type of letter, is it, monster?”

You gasped, twisting to face her, holding the crayon tightly in your hand. “It’s not wrong, Mummy! It’s just special!”

Beth laughed, leaning down to press a kiss to the top of your head. “Of course it is, munchkin. My mistake. What are we writing next?”

“My Christmas list!” you exclaimed, bouncing in your chair, your pigtails bobbing with the movement. You turned back to the paper, your excitement bubbling over as you looked at Viv for confirmation. “Right, Mamma?”

Viv nodded. “That’s right, Roo. But remember, it’s not just about asking for things. You have to be very polite to Santa, too.”

You nodded, “Okay, I’ll be polite. I promise.”

Beth smirked. “Shall we start with ‘Dear Santa,’ then? Or are we going straight to ‘Gimme all the toys’?”

You giggled, shaking your head. “No, Mummy! That’s not polite!” You picked up your red crayon again and began carefully writing out “Dear Santa” in big, uneven letters. Viv reached over and gently steadied the paper for you, her other hand brushing against your back.

“Perfect,” Viv said as you finished. “And what’s next? Want to tell him you’ve been good this year?”

You paused, tilting your head. “I think so… but maybe you should write that bit for me, Mamma, so he knows I really mean it.”

Beth snorted, hiding her laugh behind her hand. “Cheeky monkey. I think Santa knows you’re good… most of the time.”

“I am good!” you insisted, crossing your arms with a pout. “I help with the dogs and clean my room! Mostly.”

“Mostly,” Viv echoed with a teasing smile. “Go on, mijn meisje. Tell Santa what you’d like.”

You uncrossed your arms and picked up a green crayon this time, switching colours because, as you explained, “It has to look pretty for Santa.” Then, in your best wobbly handwriting, you began to list out your wishes, saying them aloud as you wrote:

“Colouring book,” you said first, your tongue sticking out in concentration as you struggled to form the letters. “With lots of crayons!” You underlined it twice for emphasis.

“Good choice,” Beth said, leaning on the counter. “What’s next? World domination? A pony?”

You giggled again, shaking your head. “Nooo, Mummy. Mamma says no pony, it’s smelly!”

Beth gasped, “But I thought you wanted your very own pony to ride to school?!”

“Nooo! Silly, Mummy,” you giggled, “Twix needs more friends! Like a bunny family!”

“Friends for Twix, got it,” Viv said, her lips twitching into a smile as she wrote that one down for you. “What else, mijn meisje?”

“Ummm… princess dresses!” You clapped your hands, your excitement bubbling over. “And… Barbie! A fairy one! And—oh, and something for Myle and Rona! Like a new ball or treats!”

Beth grinned. “Well, Santa’s got his work cut out for him this year.”

You paused, “Maybe some sweets, too?” you added. “For me…oh and some uhhh sweets for you and Mamma!”

Beth gave Viv a look. “What a generous little monster we’ve got, Vivi.”

Viv nodded in agreement, ruffling your curls gently. “Even if she’s already had enough sweets today.”

“Not enough!” you argued, turning to flash her a cheeky grin. “Never enough!”

Viv shook her head. “Back to work, mijn meisje. Make sure it’s pretty for Santa.”

You nodded seriously, returning your focus to your letter. After writing out a few more items with Viv’s help, you grabbed your box of crayons and began drawing little pictures around the edges—a Christmas tree in one corner, a stick-figure Santa in another, and, of course, a lopsided drawing of Twix.

Beth leaned down to look. “Is that me?” she asked, pointing to a stick figure with wild hair next to the tree.

“No,” you said, giggling. “That’s Santa. You don’t have a beard, Mummy.”

Beth laughed. “Fair enough. What about this one?” She pointed to another stick figure with longer hair holding a bunny.

“That’s me and Twix!” you declared proudly. “And that’s you, Mamma and Myle over there.”

Viv smiled softly, watching you colour. “Santa will love it, Roo!”

When you were finally finished, you held the paper up for both of them to see. It was full of scribbled words, mismatched colours, and wobbly drawings, but your face shone with pride. “Oh! Wait, it needs glitter!”

Viv raised an eyebrow with a teasing smile. “Glitter? Oh no, not the glitter.”

You nodded eagerly. “Yes! Glitter makes everything prettier!” Without waiting for a response, you grabbed the glitter shaker from the side, the colourful sparkles catching the light.

“Roo, wait, we need to—” Viv began, but it was too late. You shook the glitter shaker with all your might, and in an instant, the kitchen counter was covered in a shimmering rainbow of glitter. Some of it landed on your paper, but most of it flew into the air, settling on the counter, your clothes, and even the dogs, who were now sniffing curiously at the glitter on the floor.

“Mamma, look!” you giggled, holding up your glitter-covered hands, “It’s so sparkly!”

Beth couldn’t help but laugh, “I think Santa might get a little extra sparkle with this letter.” She gave Viv a playful look. “What do you think, Vivi? Will Santa be able to read it with all the glitter?”

Viv sighed but smiled fondly. “He’ll get the message, and I’m sure he’ll appreciate the effort, Roo. But we might need to clean up some of this glitter before we track it everywhere.”

You giggled, “But Mamma, it’s just a little sparkle!”

Beth shook her head, grabbing a cloth. “A lot of sparkle, you mean. Come on, let’s try to keep it under control while we finish.”

You, however, were already back to shaking more glitter onto the page, and before either of them could stop you, the letter was a glittery masterpiece of chaotic sparkle, just as you had imagined it.

“Mamma! Mummy!” you exclaimed, holding up the letter triumphantly. “Santa’s going to love it! I made it special!”

Beth and Viv exchanged a look, both fighting off laughs “It’s perfect, Roo,” Beth said. “Santa’s going to think you’re very creative.”

“Creative and very…sparkly,” Viv added, brushing more glitter off her own lap.

You beamed at them, already planning the next step. “Now, we just need to send it!”

Viv and Beth exchanged another amused look as you carefully folded the glitter-covered letter in half, holding it up to them with a proud grin. 

“Alright, Roo,” Viv said, “but you’re not sending it like that, are you? We need to put it in an envelope.”

You scrunched your nose. “But… the glitter is the best part!” you protested, looking at the sparkling chaos in your hands. “Santa will love it!”

Beth chuckled. “I think Santa’s got a sparkle overload now. But don’t worry, we’ll figure out a way to make it look nice and send it off. Maybe a little less glitter next time?”

“Never!” you declared, shaking your head. “Glitter makes everything better!”

Viv sighed dramatically, but her eyes twinkled with affection. “If you say so, mijn meisje. Let’s just get the envelope, so Santa can see all your hard work.”

“Looks like we’re going to be vacuuming glitter until Christmas,” Beth muttered with a grin as you slipped the letter into the envelope. 

[aerynwrites]

Peace

Simon "Ghost" Riley x John "Soap" MacTavish

A/N: Sorry for the delay in posting anything lately lol - my writing motivation has been in the toilet. But hopefully it's back now and I just had to get this little piece out for the holidays. I hope you enjoy! Word Count: 4k Warnings: so much fluff, fluff galore, fluff mountain, slightly insecure simon, (possibly ooc simon??), mentions of praying before a meal, again just lots of fluff.

Simon “Ghost” Riley doesn’t get nervous. 

Nerves, anxiety, fear - it was all beat out of him by his piece-of-shit excuse for a father. Then further beat out of him in the military. Nervousness died with the first Simon Riley, buried six feet underground never to be heard from again.

So why the bloody fuck are his hands sweating?

He’s wiped them on the fabric of his jeans at least a dozen times as they drive down the desolate stretch of road in nowhere Scotland. Johnny talking his ear off the whole time - mostly about his family. 

The family Simon is about to meet. 

Fuck…what was he thinking, agreeing to this?

Thinking you don’t want to be alone again on the holidays, that’s what.

Simon shakes his head, chasing the thought away as quick as it’d come. 

He’s been alone all his life. He didn’t need anyone. Yet, when Johnny had whispered the request, a simple one really - into the darkness of the room one night as they shared a bed…Simon couldn’t say no. 

“Come home with me, Si.”

That was less than a week ago, and the Scott followed through on his promise, helping Simon pack his bags before all but whisking him away for a few weeks holiday with his family. 

His very large family. 

Of course Simon knew of Johnny’s parents and sisters and brother, but Johnny had warned him that the whole extended family gets together for Christmas. He’d been regaling Simon with dozens of tales from his childhood, each one with a different family member. And try as he might, Simon couldn’t stop the smile that tugged at his lips as he continued, sweaty palms forgotten the longer Johnny talked. 

The small moment of reprieve didn’t last long, however, because sooner than Simon was ready for they were turning off the main road onto a side street. That side street quickly gave way to a long gravel drive, and before he knew it Johnny had parked the car behind at least half a dozen others in front of a large house. 

The first thing Simon noticed was the sheer normal-ness of the place. All the cars were practical ones, SUVs, sedans - made for families. The house was decorated modestly but tastefully. Colorful string lights lined the gutters and porch railings, a wreath hung on the door, and a large wooden sign leaned up against the front of the house beside the door that read ‘Merry Christmas!’ In bold red letters. 

But more than that, Simon could see into the house. The blinds are open and he can see many people milling about, talking, laughing, adults running after small children-

“This wasn’t a good idea, Johnny.”

The words are out before Simon can stop them, and he instantly regrets them the moment they bring a wounded look to his partner's face. But he can’t help it. His damn palms are sweaty again and his heart is racing and he can’t-

Johnny reaches over to slide a familiar calloused hand into his own, giving it a reassuring squeeze. 

“It’ll be okay, Simon. They’re gonna love ya’-”

Simon can’t help the small huff of bitter laughter that slips from beneath his mask. “Will they?” He asks, before gesturing to the cloth covering his face. 

“You’re tellin’ me the kids won’t run screamin’, the moment they see me? Or that your family won’t stare at the giant with a bloody mask-”

Simon cuts himself off, shaking his head. 

“I shouldn’t ‘ave come,” he repeats sullenly, “You go in. Enjoy the holiday with your family. I saw a hotel not too far back, I can-”

“No, no, no, none of that shite,” Johnny interjects, voice firm. A tone he doesn’t take with Simon often. 

“I’ve told them all about you,” he finally admits, “mask an’ all.” He laughs softly. “The only thing Ma ‘ad to say about it was askin’ why you chose a skull.”

Simon is silent, warring with himself as Johnny continues. 

“And…you don’t ‘ave to wear it if you don’t want to,” he suggests lightly, before squeezing Simon’s hand again. “I wouldn’t ‘ave suggested you come if I dinnae think they’d like ya’. My family is important to me, Si. And you’re part of tha’ now.”

Simon didn’t have time to respond this time before Johnny’s out of the car and opening the trunk to get their bags. He’s thinking out loud again, wondering if his mother made his favorite side dish or dessert, wondering if his nephews would be here.

Simon is listening but he also isn’t, his mind running one hundred miles a minute until the trunk slams closed and Simon lets out a muttered curse before ripping the balaclava off his head and shoving it in his pocket as he steps from the vehicle. He doesn’t miss the shocked raise of the Scott’s eyebrows as he comes around the car before it melts into that fucking smile that plagues Simons waking moments. 

Simon takes his bag from Johnny’s hand before following him up the drive then up the steps of the porch. He waits patiently as Johnny grabs the door handle, knocking when he finds it’s locked. Every moment of waiting feels like an eternity for Simon, all possible scenarios running through his mind. The door swinging open and everyone inside coming to a stand still as they take in the monster Johnny brought with him. The children pointing and whispering about the scars marring his features. Johnny’s parent’s frowning in disapproval at the choice their son made…

It’s all playing out in front of his very eyes until a soft feminine voice calls out from the other side of the door - ‘coming!’ - and then the lock clicks and the door swings open and an older woman that looks eerily similar to his partner beams up at them both.

“Johnathan!” She says reverently, wistfully, as she wraps her son in a hug so fierce Simon’s momentarily worried she might injure him. 

But Johnny just laughs and drops his bag as he wraps his big arms around his mother, stooping down to envelop her entirely as he embraces her, tucking his head into her neck. 

“I’m home, Ma.”

The embrace lasts for the perfect amount of time before they pull away from one another, and it’s then, as Mrs. MacTavish holds her son at arms length - looking over him - that her eyes flit over to Simon, and the inevitable has finally come. 

Except there’s no hatred. No disgust or disapproval or furrowed brows. Instead there’s a smile just as big as she gave Johnny and before Simon can react the woman is approaching him.

“You must be, Simon,” she says, voice gentle - warm and welcoming. 

All Simon can do is nod, gripping onto his duffel bag with white knuckles. 

“Johnathan never stops talking about you-”

“Ma!” Johnny reprimands.

“Talking about you and your team and how…” she trails off, a sadness settling into her eyes before she steps forward and wraps Simon in an embrace he hasn’t felt since his own mother passed. 

It’s strong and grounding, yet soft and inviting all at the same time, and it catches Simon so off guard that this woman who barely reaches his chest is hugging him - that all he can think to do is wrap his free arm lamely around her shoulders. 

“Thank you for keeping him safe.”

The words are so soft, uttered into the cotton of Simon's shirt, that he’s surprised he hears them. But he does, and he gives her a gentle squeeze. 

“I wouldn’t let anything happen to him,” he assures her.

He looks to Johnny as his mother pulls away from him, and he has to stop himself from rolling his eyes at the smug ‘I told you so’ look on the scott’s face. 

Mrs. MacTavish smiles again before stepping back towards the house. “Well, come on then, you’re just in time, really. Dinner is goin’ to be ready within the hour.”

She opens the door back up and steps inside and Johnny follows close behind her, looking back when Simon hesitates. He gives him a reassuring look, shifting his bag to his other hand so he can reach a hand out to him. Letting out a small resigned huff, Simon takes the hand offer to him and lets himself be tugged into the house. 

Warmth envelopes him almost immediately- not only in the temperature sense because of the roaring fire in the fireplace at the center of the living room - but also in the atmosphere. The lights around the house are soft and welcoming, none of the bright fluorescents that litter the base. And the general sense in the house is one of pure love and happiness and joy. Children running around, adults laughing and chatting happily with drinks in their hands. Even the Christmas tree, bursting with colorfully wrapped gifts beneath it adds to the overall feel. 

It gives Simon whiplash - how different this place is than the environments he’s usually in. It’s not like the cinderblock dorm he usually stays in or the concrete gym he frequents or even the various dangerous countries he travels to for missions. 

Simon wants to both run and never leave at the same time. And unfortunately for him, he doesn’t get a chance to do the former. Before he has a chance to disappear into some dark corner (not that there’s many to be seen in this cozy home) Johnny is introducing him to all the family that stops them as they come in. 

Aunts, uncles, cousins, nephews, nieces, grandparents…the only ones Simon really has time to remember are his sisters because Johnny talks about them all the time anyways - and once again, Simon is startled into near silence. Not a single one of them gives him a sideways glance. They all just smile warmly at him when Johnny introduces him, giving him a firm handshake - or let’s be honest - most of them wrap him in a firm hug. He expected nothing less from Johnny’s family. 

And when Johnny does end up getting pulled away by rambunctious nieces and nephews and Simon is left alone, he still doesn’t get a chance to slip away because Johnny’s sisters are sliding up to him, chatting about anything and nothing and slipping a drink into his hand (spike eggnog which Simon pretends not to enjoy as much as he does). 

It’s how ended up where he is now, hating feeling useless and standing around, he’s bustling around the kitchen with Johnny’s sisters, Amelia and Isobel and Mrs. MacTavish.

“Call me Moira, Simon. Mrs. MacTvish is my mother-in-law.”

(He doesn’t. Can’t. Not yet at least.)

“Simon,” Amelia, calls from the gargantuan dining room table in the room connected to the kitchen, “Can you grab the trivets? Dinnae want to leave rings on the table-”

“Oh!” Isobel calls as well, from where she’s playing the silverware, “I forgot the napkins too-”

Simon, with trivets already tucked beneath his arms, swoops up the delicately folded napkins on his way into the dining room - “On it.”

He places the trivett's precisely where the sisters direct him, unable to stop the small smile from tugging at his lips when they practically groan in appreciation when he places the napkins on top of the plates that are set out.

“Finally,” Amelia explains, moving to help Isobel set the silverware, “A man who isn’t entirely clueless-”

“Right?” Isobel agrees, both of them laughing.

Simon lets out a chuckle of his own, shrugging his shoulders. 

“We didn’ do much as a family when I was younger,” he starts, slightly hesitant. “But my Mum never skipped a holiday meal. Showed me how to set the table,” he says softly, feeling like he revealed too much. 

But the sisters just smile brightly at him, and Simon has to shove down the voice screaming ‘wrong, wrong, wrong! You don’t deserve their kindness, their sympathy-‘

“Well, your mum sounds like a lovely, woman,” Amelia says, before Isobel pipes in. 

“Are you and Johnny going to visit your family after us?”

Simon freezes at that, shoulders tensing as he tries and fails to stop the frown from tugging at his lips. He pretends not to see the way Amelia elbows her sister, sending her a scathing look as he continues to place napkins, now avoiding their eyes. 

“I uh-” he clears his throat. “My family’s passed. Jus’ me now.”

It’s silent for a moment, before he feels a gentle squeeze on his shoulder and he startles slightly, not having heard Mrs. MacTavish come up behind him in his inner grief. He turns to see yet another one of those blinding smiles on her face, a smile so similar to Johnny’s. He freezes again as her hand slides down to cover Simon’s, her hand tiny against his own larger one. 

“Well,” she says softly, “You always have a place at our table, Simon. You’re our family now.”

She turns away before he can speak and as she calls out to the family that dinner is ready, he’s silently glad she did, because he doesn’t know if he’d be able to speak around the lump in his throat. 

———

The family helps carry the food out to the table, and Simon can’t help but be impressed at the bountiful display of food, his stomach rumbling at the sight. Johnny finds him in the slight chaos, taking his hand in his own as he leads him to two seats towards the head of the table, just as everyone else is taking their seats. Johnny’s mother is at the head of the table, Amelia and Isobel and their partners and children to her left and Johnny and Simon to her right. He can’t help but feel like he’s too high up on the totem pole that is family seating. Hell, he doesn’t feel like he deserves to be here at all. 

Yet, when Mrs. MacTavish insist they all hold hands to say a prayer and she goes through the typical spiel, any doubt he has melts away when she says thanks for Johnny’s safety, Simon’s own name falling shortly behind before the entire table closes the prayer and Johnny squeezes his hand in that loving way that always makes his heart stutter. 

As quickly as the silence that fell over the table during grace came, it was gone in an instant. Soft shatter and laughter soon starts up as everyone passes dishes of food around. A lot of the things Simon recognizes; ham, mashed potatoes, and various other comfort food sides litter the table. But there are also some dishes that are unfamiliar to Simon, and Johnny is quick to explain them. Most of them are Scottish dishes he’s never heard of, but some are family recipes that have evolved over the years - all of them Johnny’s favorites.

“Oh, you ‘ave to try this one Si, it’s my favorite-”

“You’ve said tha’ about the last three dishes, Johnny-”

The Scott just laughs, “But this time I mean it.”

Soon, Simon’s plate is piled so high with food he’s concerned he won’t be able to eat it all (he does…and goes back for seconds). And he has to constantly remind himself not to eat like a military man - hunched over his plate, shoveling food in as fast as possible to be done in time - something he notices Johnny has to do as well. 

Simon smiles - and for the first time since he left base a few days ago, his palms have stopped sweating. 

———

The night is quiet as Simon steps outside of the still chattering household. Dinner ended a few hours ago, and ever the dutiful guest, Simon helped clean up before the events were moved to the living room. Presents were shared among family, mainly the kids. Colorful wrapping paper littering the floor and the couches and the chairs (and even the fireplace on one occasion, a disaster Simon managed to catch and stomp out before it went too far.) He and Johnny sat on the couch, the latter watching and oozing happiness from every pore as he soaked in the family he hadn't seen in too long. Hell, even Simon was sated - a little too much like a cat in a sun patch with his belly full and his inhibitions slightly dulled from that damn eggnog. 

But now…Simon felt the ever present itch to step away, that familiar feeling of otherness creeping back in as he feels like an intruder to something so cozy and intimate. 

You don’t belong here, that voice mutters again, sounding strangely similar to his father’s rasping voice as he slides the back door open and steps onto the back porch.

He tugs a cigarette from the pack in his coat pocket, placing it between his lips before grabbing the zippo Johnny had gifted him almost a year ago. 

‘It’s the twenty-first century, L.T. quit usin’ matches.’

Simon huffed out a small laugh at the memory as he flicked the wheel of the lighter, a small flame sparking to life and warming his palm as he cups his hand around it and brings to the end of the cigarette, taking a deep drag to light it. 

The soft sound of the sliding glass door reaches his ears just as he flicks the lighter closed and stows it away, and he knows who it is almost instantly, the footsteps familiar to him. 

Johnny doesn’t speak right away, instead coming to stand shoulder to shoulder with Simon just as the first few flurries start to fall from the sky. 

Snow…

Simon can’t remember the last time he saw snow - well - saw snow in a pleasant way. Snow that wasn’t waist deep and in the Russian wilderness and keeping his team from reaching the safe house. Snow that wasn’t stained red or crushed into brown slurry beneath his boots. 

Maybe this trip would change that - like it’s changed a lot of things. 

“Thank you.”

The words are simple, but soft. Softer than they have a right to be coming from a man like Simon. A man who has more blood on his hands than most. A man who most people would run from the second they looked at him. 

But he means them. He means them with his whole heart and he hopes that Johnny understands everything Simon is trying to say with those two simple words. 

Thank you for inviting me here. Thank you for trusting me with your family. Thank you for loving me. Thank you for putting up with me. Thank you for loving the unlovable and showing me this and -

Johnny shrugs, and the rustle of fabric breaks off Simon’s train of thought as he glances over at his partner from the corner of his eyes. 

“I want you ‘ere, Si,” Johnny says softly, eyes looking out into the wilderness beyond the backyard, into the stars littering the night sky, “I ‘ave for a long time, and I…”

He trails off, clearing his throat, and Simon doesn’t miss the way he fiddles with something in his pocket. 

“I love you, Simon,” he says gently, finally tearing his eyes away from the celestial lights above him to look at Simon in a way that he’s never been looked at before. “And I meant wha’ I said. You’re part of this now,” he gestures back to the house still brimming with life, love, and happiness. “And I was wonderin’…” he trails off again, letting out a frustrated sound. 

“Ah, I’m shite at this…”

Simon huffs out a laugh, “Spit it out, Johnny-”

Now it’s Johnny’s turn to laugh, shaking his head as he pulls out a little velvet box from his jacket pocket. “Your makin’ this real ‘ard to be all romantic an’ shit-” he rolls his eyes, but even in the dimness of the moonlight Simon doesn’t miss the way Johnny’s cheeks redden. 

Realistically Simon knows what’s in the box - he knows what’s coming. Yet, he still can’t help the way his heart leaps into his throat when Johnny opens the box to reveal a simple gold ring. No frills, no getting on one knee and professing his love, no fancy dinner. 

It was never their thing anyways. 

“Simon Riley,” Johnny says, voice slightly choked, nervous, “Will you marry me?”

Simon never truly knew what he would do in this situation- fuck, he never imagined this scenario. Ever. Not in a million years. And if he did - he always thought he’d be the one asking.

“Johnny…”

The Scott cuts him off, “now before you go an’ start all that self-deprecatin’ bullshi-”

“Johnny-” Simon tries again.

“I love you! An’ I know that-”

Simon lets out a low growl, once stemming from slight annoyance as he flicks his cigarette out and away from him in favor of taking Johnny’s face in his calloused palms and pressing lips firmly to his. It shuts the Scott up, and Simon can’t stop that stupid giddy feeling that he gets when familiar hands wrap around his waist. 

It doesn’t last long, just long enough for Simon to get the point across, and then he’s pulling away resting his forehead against Johnny’s. 

“If you’d let me get a bloody word out, I’d tell you yes.”

Johnny pauses at that - eyes widening slightly in that way that Simon always thinks looks like a puppy begging for more treats. 

“Really?”

Simon scoffs, not unkindly, and pulls away his hand still cupping warm cheeks. 

“Why’d ya ask if ya thought I’d say no?”

Johnny blushes at that, looking away, “Well I didnae think you’d say no…” he shrugs, “Just thought you’d take more convincin’ is all.”

Now it’s Simon’s turn to roll his eyes, as he finally drops his hands, holding his left one out slightly. 

“You gonna make me put it on myself?”

Johnny laughs then, a real laugh, the loud one that Simon pretends to hate but really truly loves - and then Johnny is taking the ring from the box and sliding it on Simon's left ring finger with more delicacy than he deserves. The metal is cool, smooth as it slides against his overheated skin, and as it sit snugly on his finger, Simon can’t help but flex them, the metal glinting in the moonlight.

“You picked good, Johnny,” he says lamely, not sure what else to say until he glances at Johnny’s left hand. 

“Now I need to get you one,” he says, “Can’t have people thinkin’ you’re single.”

Johnny smiles, digging around in his jeans pocket this time before producing an identical gold band to his own. “Way ahead of ya, L.T.”

Johnny goes to slide the band on, but Simon stops him, taking the metal ring from his fingers with a grumble of ‘hold it sergeant’ before he slips it over his ring finger. He doesn’t miss the way Johnny smiles down at their hands, all wrapped together as he gazes at the matching rings. 

Simon opens his mouth to say something, but a bright white flash of light from his left stops him and Johnny in their tracks. They both look over just in time to see Isobel fumbling with her phone behind the glass sliding door as Amelia scolds her and Mrs. MacTavish just gives her son a small thumbs up and watery smile. 

Johnny just groans and runs a hand down his face as the three women scatter, leaving them alone once more. 

“Steamin’ Jesus,” he rolls his eyes, “Sorry ‘bout them-”

Simon shakes his head, taking Johnny’s hand in his own as he turns to face the backyard again, thumb already running over the smooth metal ring. 

“Don’t worry about it, Johnny,” he says, waving him off. “I…it’s nice. Having a family again.”

Johnny smiles, giving Simon’s hand a soft squeeze before they both settle into a comfortable silence to watch the snow fall from the sky above them. 

And as the muffled sounds of Christmas music and soft chatter filter out from the house and Simon holds Johnny close…He can’t help but send a silent thought to his mother and brother. Wherever they are.

‘I’m not alone.’

The gentle kiss of a breeze answers him, whispering against his cheeks and wrapping around his legs, and for the first time since he can remember - 

Simon is at peace. 

[crushedsweets]

im so curious how it would play out in the hypothetical, unlikely situation that toby does read that letter/ connie catches him some how

i like that you specify hypothetical/unlikely cuz you know my annoying ass would be like "tbh im not sure it would happen cuz xyz" LMFAOOOOOOOOO.

anyhow. in the TOTALLY POSSIBLE situation that toby read the letter(smth adjacent to "i love you, i care for you, i forgive you, im sorry for everything, youre still my baby, take care of yourself") i think he might cave. wait for a day connie visits lyras grave and anxiously walk towards her. all quiet, giving himself time to change his mind. he tics and catches her attention - no choice but to say hi now.

immediately she'd start bawling, crumpling to the ground and wailing out apologies and pleas and asking him where he's been, what he's been doing, has he been safe. in every other situation, toby tries so hard to be strong and put up a facade of arrogance, sadism, carelessness. but i think if he saw connie like that (years after killing his dad, when he's developed a stronger support system and improved his mental health) he'd start crying too. kneel down in front of her and try hugging her, something about "stop that mom stop stand up please stop crying stand up please" and choke out the saddest laugh in the entire world when she cries about how he's gotten so big and his voice has gotten so deep.

i think she'd be able to convince him to come sit in the car with her and talk. she'd be impossible to console, holding his hand and crying. she'd calm down, and then look at how tired he looks, start crying again. calm down, see that he still wears lyras necklace, cry again. etc etc. eventually she'd exhaust herself and actually maintain a conversation with him, but it would mostly be toby being like "i just cant talk about it, but i promise im doing good ma. i got friends, really good friends" and skirting around a lot of her questions. he'd forget to ask her questions, because he stalked her enough to know most of the answers, but she wouldnt mind.

neither of them want to talk about frank, and if she even tried bringing him up, toby would cut her off and insist they dont need to talk about it. he'd struggle with it a lot, MAYBE coughing up an apology for widowing connie, but he's not sorry about killing frank and he's trying not to tell her that. so he rather avoid it entirely.

she'd try to ask him to stay, but he'd be like ??? r u serious. and shed be like okay. youre right. im sorry. and i think thatd kill him a little, watching her apologize to him like that.

in a nicer world, he'd give her a phone number to call and they'd keep in contact. but toby is more likely to tell her he cant keep in touch(he'd make up an excuse, refuse to tell her its cuz he's scared she'll call the cops, even if he wants to trust her).

anyhow. um. um. shakes your hand. im tired n the rogers family hurts my soul

[kkeidawrites]

The Return

The death of Jason Todd had become a huge news story and the media had created rumors that Bruce Wayne and anyone affiliated with him were involved in his death. Y/n’s parents were the main ones who suspected that Bruce is the only person who may be involved with Jason.

After Bruce wasn’t able to find Jason’s body for a proper burial, it was best to make it private. It was decided that only family and friends were allowed to attend the funeral.

Of course to fit this sad time, it was raining, the church where the funeral was held was warm from the infinite amount of candles that mourners were holding in their hands.

Y/n, 18 at the time, walked up to the closed casket of the missing body of her best friend. She knew there wasn’t a body inside she had weaseled that information out of Alfred.

Y/n places a hand on the casket and kisses the top of it, her eyes blank but tears rolling down her face. A visible representation of a young girl who lost her first love.

“I promise, Jason. I promise I will find you, I’ll never stop trying nor will I stop looking. I won’t.” She swore and lingered at the casket for a couple of minutes before returning to her seat.

That evening, the casket was lowered into the cold wet ground, a tombstone welcoming its new owner with open arms. Y/n was held by her mother’s warm embrace and kisses to her brow. She didn’t know the real truth, no one in her family did. Good.

It was better that way.

Once the funeral was over, both family members and friends made their departure to their respected cars, leaving only Dick, Barbara, Alfred, and Bruce still sobbing over the casket. Y/n felt like she couldn’t breathe.

They knew that Jason wasn’t down there, why were they putting on such a show? They needed to get to work and find Jason’s real body so that they could bury him. Y/n balled her fists in anger and eventually turned away, going to her car and driving home.

“I’ll do what they want do. I’ll find Jason myself.” She vows.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The next two years goes by and the relationships between the Wayne and L/n families had completely changed.

Nobody from the L/n family was allowed to have any contact with Bruce Wayne or work with anyone affiliated with Wayne Industries. Y/n had moved on with her life, graduating from high school with honors, going to college in game design and engineering and graduated early with honors as well.

Working at a great gaming company and creating video games was all she wanted to do when she got older, here she was working on her newest project: The Return of the Red Prince.

Y/n now 21 years old, could work her own hours and it was only Monday through Friday, a plus for her. Yep, a regular working woman now with a great job and living in a nice condo that she had bought for herself in Midtown Gotham. She practically had it all.

But something was missing.

Y/n walked around her condo in her silk robe and a towel on her head, as she carried a large box in her arms.

She found herself sitting on the plush grey couch in her living room and taking out the items inside.

It was all of the memories that she had made with Jason, mangas, old cosplay from previous cons they attended, old phones that she had throughout the years, and letters they had sent when one of their phones were taken away because of punishment.

Each piece of memorabilia she smiled at, good times in such a short time that they had known each other. She picks up a photo frame and a warm smile spreads across her lips.

A picture of the two of them on a building in downtown Gotham, Y/n had pulled him into the photo while he was drinking soda and it had ended up getting it on his shirt. It was a fun night, full of laughs and memories. It was also that same night that he had disappeared. Only 17 years old.

Y/n runs a finger over the glass frame where Jason was and sighed sadly.

“I’m keeping my promise Jason. I’m still looking for you.” She whispers. Y/n hugs the frame close to her chest and closes her eyes.

For years, Y/n has been using every outlet of missing persons agencies to get more information of Jason’s whereabouts, every month providing those agencies with possible leads to where he is located. Her idea of him being at Arkham Island kept coming back in the reports that she would have but as usual, no one would listen to her.

There is a good thing in this long process, Y/n was able to find people who were missing and return them to their families or at least bring closure to them.

Putting the frame on her coffee table, Y/n gets up and goes over to her bedroom. Walking into her bathroom, she takes off the towel on her head and picks up her homemade hair oil. Pouring a large amount of it on her palms, she applies it to her edges and parts her hair to oil her scalp.

Once she’s done, Y/n wraps her hair up in a silk bonnet and walks back into the living room, picking up the knocked over pillows that she doesn’t remember being there before.

“Nice place you got here,” the voice makes Y/n jump and turn around to see someone sitting in her lounge chair. With their feet up and still wearing their shoes.

“Can I help you?” She asks crossing her arms.

Another perk of living in Gotham, randoms always coming up in her space with some mess she ain’t got anything to do with.

They were shrouded in the shadows and the only thing Y/n could make out was the glowing blue eyes that stared at her.

“I don’t know yet. Have a seat won’t you?”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Have a happy holidays!

Enjoy Part 5! Be sure to like, comment, share, and reblog!

Read Part 1: Here

Read Part 2: Here

Read Part 3: Here

Read Part 4: Here

[lying-on-floors]

Yellow Mailboxes

Sniperscout

The sweet spring air flooded Mick's nose as he stepped out of the house. He lit a cigarette and waited for Jeremy and the kids to get into the car to go to the school assembly.

"You sure you ain't coming, Mickey?"

Jeremy asked his boyfriend as he loaded his kids into the car.

"Yeah. Besides, it's parents only and, y'kno--"

Mick trailed off and gestured to himself. Jeremy nodded, showing his understanding. It's not that they were ashamed to be together, it was just dangerous right now.

"Okay, We'll see ya--Tanya!"

Jeremy failed to catch the little girl who jumped out of the car and ran over to Mick to hug him.

"Why aren't ya coming, Mickey?"

Mick threw his cigarette onto the porch next to him and crouched down to be at the girls level.

"Well, sweetheart, it's parents only and I'm not your legal parent. Besides, there's stuff I gotta do around the house while you lil rascals are gone."

He ruffled her hair, which made her giggle.

"Okay. I'll bring you back pamphlets!"

The little girl skipped happily back to her dad, who helped her into the car, fastening her seat belt. He waved to Mick as he opened the driver's side door.

"We'll see ya soon!"

Mick waved back and picked up his cigarette and put it out in the ash tray sitting on the porch railing. Time to get to work.

Mick went to his camper van and opened the back door to get out the paint cans and the corresponding tools. He brought them over to the beaten up mailbox and opened one of the cans. It was a pale yellow, a color Jeremy's fond of. He grabbed the wide paint brush and carefully began painting over the gray mail box. Once he was done he decided he needed to let it dry, so he took a break and cleaned up a bit. Mostly tidying up the yard and living room, making sure all of the kids toys are put away so Jeremy doesn't have to worry about doing that when he gets home. Of course, they're going to have to do it again later, but it would be nice for him to walk into a clean house along with his newly mailbox.

A few hours passed and Mick went into the kitchen to grab the stickers he would use to adorn the Mailbox's side.

Willis

He went back to the mail box to check if it was dry enough. He deduced that it was, so he lit a cigarette and got to work. He was finishing up the last letter when Jeremy's car pulled up. Mick cursed under his breath, but decided it wasn't too big of a deal, since he was done. Mick stood up and shoved the trash into his pockets. He'll deal with it later. The four excited kids ran past him, Tanya being the only one who stopped to hand him the pamphlets she promised him before running off to join her siblings. Jeremy met Mick by the mailbox and beamed.

"What's all this, Mickey?"

The question was rethorical, Mick knew that, but he still answered.

"I painted your, uhm, mailbox."

He awkwardly patted the top of the mailbox, which made Jeremey laugh.

"Aww, Mick, that's so sweet!"

Mick blushed.

"Yeah, well, you mentioned wantin' to paint over it, so, I, uh, wanted to suprise ya."

Mick shoved his hands in his pockets, years of knowing Jeremy never made him any better at romance, but Jeremy didn't seem to mind. He was too busy admiring the soft yellow and the large white lettering.

"It looks really good! I love this color!"

Mick smiled.

"I know. You always talk about how warm and inviting it is. And how it reminds ya of ya mum."

Jeremy looked at Mick, tears forming in his eyes.

"I love you, Mick."

Mick grinned and wrapped his arm around Jeremy, directing him inside. "

"I love ya too, Roo."

[himasgod]

Tartaglia x Reader

Where you are his No. 1 Party Anthem, and he, yours

Where, while he's away on a mission, you exchange poem-style letters on the subject of your problematic and angsty love, based on the song No. 1 Party Anthem by Arctic Monkeys.

(I've been loving this song for quite some time and I felt the need to write something with it now that it's gone viral, something short because I'm writing big projects that you'll see LOL for now enjoy)

The edge of my arrow is my redemption, the blood, my poem written on the battlefield. Love never had a taste, but death was always sweet. The look of love, the rush of blood, a red burst against the snow. Oh, how I wish my heart would race like that when I take your hand. But it doesn't. It never will. War loves me like you never can. And I, I love what destroys me.

-Tartaglia

Your eyes are an Abyss. A trap disguised as tenderness. The "she's with me" is the gallic shrug, your casual way of saying that I'm something else on the stage of your life. The "shutterbugs," the cameras plus, paint me in black and white. You take my hand, but it's the blood that you really want. You look at me, but it's the blood that makes you feel alive. And I, a shadow in your world, a whisper between your screams.

-Reader

It's not that I don't love you. It's that I don't know how to love without destroying. My love is a weapon, a promise broken before it is spoken. The black and white and the color dodge, the contrast of your goodness and my darkness. I want to stop, I want to give you something more than ashes. But when I close my eyes, I only see the dance of combat, the faces of those who kneel before me. That's where I am invincible. That's where I am lost.

-Tartaglia

I get lost in your contradictions. The Ajax who smiles with his family, the Childe who destroys everything. I try to find my place between the two, but there are only shadows. Your "rush of blood" leaves me cold, your "look of love" burns me. You tell me I am your anchor, but I know I am a whip of guilt that holds you to this world. And when you run into battle, I wonder if you'll ever come back, or if you'll finally find the only peace you know.

-Reader

I don't deserve your tears. I don't deserve your smiles. But still, I snatch them from you, like a thief in the moonlight. Because, in the end, all I have left is the edge, and the edge never lies.

-Tartaglia

I wonder if I'll ever decide to let go of your hand. If, in the end, I'll lose myself in the same Abyss where you're trapped. But for now, I cling to the illusion, to the lie that I can save you. And you, you cling to the edge, to the lie that you don't need saving.

-Reader

[snarkyassholeenthusiast]

SPOP textposts part 1

these have been in my drafts literally since 2021, i'm just gonna leave them here

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[passthroughtime]

you know

i mean

yeah

[osarina]

Wait can we send in somno Dazai thoughts or has that time passed-

- vampire!dazai anon

SOMNO DAZAI THOUGHTS NEVER PASS PLEASE SEND THEM

[gayfranzkafka]

btw Elliot Kalan--a man I literally only knew from his annoying 30 second ads for his podcast that I never wanted to listen to--took over writing the ongoing Harley Quinn series from Tini Howard, who had been writing one of my favorite runs of Harley's of all time. Imagine if one of YOUR favorite canonically bi female characters went from the hands of a bi woman writer who was doing a great job to being placed in the hands of a straight male podcaster you'd barely even heard of and also in the first issue of his comic she tells you she won't be able to see her girlfriend for an unknown amount of time for contrived plot reasons [one thousand skull emojis here]

[longagoitwastuesday]

Gushing about Gojo and Megumi and how they are or could have been everything to me I forgot to mention that I really really really love Yuuji. Like, a lot