also that whole tale of aragorn and arwen thing where he saw her in the woods at twenty and fell instantly in love and it’s very beren and luthien? lies.

aragorn decided he was going to marry arwen when he was like, six.

and everyone thought it was just the cutest thing, baby estel with his little crush on the great immortal evenstar, and everyone would tease him about it relentlessly and he would get so mad, and pout, because how dare they doubt his word.

(arwen spent a lot of time biting back smiles and nodding very seriously when aragorn brings this up with her. no, estel, I do not know why they are laughing perhaps they have remembered a particularly funny joke.)

and then aragorn grows into this gangly teen and oh my god can you imagine being a pimply greasy teenager around fucking elves it’s a wonder he has any self-image left. His voice breaks every other word and the laundresses are beginning to wonder if something is wrong with the sheets because estel keeps washing them himself and aragorn wants to die, god, arwen is never going to marry him if he stays all elbows and skinny knees and he can’t even look her in the eye anymore without blushing, eye contact is probably something to look for in a husband–

(arwen, who never had to go through puberty because elves don’t do anything so undignified, tries to comfort him by saying she likes his blemishes. aragorn gives her a look of such utter, miserable despair that she starts laughing.)

(this is a mistake. he spends the next three weeks nursing his wounded ego and refusing to see her.)

estel is twenty when he asks for her hand. he is lean, slender and fair as a new tree, and so arwen does not feel guilt in kissing his cheek and gently refusing. he is still green, he will weather greater storms than this–and he takes it as he should, clasping her hand and swearing to ever be her loyal friend.

they write to each other–when she is in lorien, when he wanders with the rangers of the north, fights alongside gondor, travels to distant lands. it is an inconstant tie–he is rarely afforded time enough to put pen to paper; she is reserved so as not to encourage what may not be. (she signs her letters always, your friend. She likes him too well to be cruel in this.)

the years pass. his weariness and strife creeps onto the page, and she sends him tokens to fend off the darkness–leaves from lothlorien, the ribbon from her hair, snippets of poems. it is not enough it is never enough I am sorry, she writes.

his reply is gentle: you are enough. do not stop writing.

(she carries that letter tucked inside her sleeve for a long while, like a talisman–though against what evil, she does not know.)

she is in the house of her grandmother when a familiar voice calls out to her: my lady luthien!

this is when arwen looks up, sees aragorn–broad of chest and rugged, still wearing his battered mail, with one hand balanced lazily on the pommel of his sword. All the trees of caras galadhon are gold but he is shadow and silver, kingliness resting lightly on his shoulders–

and arwen thinks, oh fuck

Baby miles in a Gregory edgeworth game should be very sweet but also very sensitive, this boy doesn’t know how to handle emotions yet but feels so much all the time so he just looks like this

And is constantly at the brink of tears, he wears tiny little suspenders and is very polite and literally everyone loves him.

He wants to help his dad and be like him a lot of so sometimes goes off for his own “investigations” (which is just him asking random questions to witnesses like every small child does) and somehow he always picks up a clue that seems irrelevant at first but turns out to be very important.

Also at the end of the game (with a little time skip) a cutscene happens where Gregory is picking his son up from school and miles excitedly tells him about how he got two news friends today after standing up for one of them over some stolen lunch money :)

If you like frogs. Or possums. Or cool builds. Or happiness. This is the video for you.

I’ve had this comic half-finished for so long. Enjoy my Magnum Opus.

I think everyone has both "hard" headcanons (things that are so integral to your understanding of a story that you can't enjoy content that contradicts them), and "soft" headcanons (things that are mutable, where you aren't strongly attached or you're open to alternate interpretations) and if you aren't sure if something is one or the other you can just read a fic where the author disagrees with you and see whether you react with "Huh, that's interesting" or "I have been overcome with a creeping sense of existential wrongness."