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jmliebert · 3 days

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♡ when Aemond has a crush on you ♡ (modern) headcanons

he hides it well; Aemond is not the type to wear his heart on his sleeve. At first, it's hard to tell he has a crush on you because he is cold and seems indifferent. he observes, weights his options

he keeps his distance at first; both emotionally and physically. his behaviour might even make you think he hates you, though it's quite the opposite of course, he just have problems with showing his feelings :((

but (!) his piercing gaze always finds you. his eye follows you discreetly, hungry and restless

when he's near you, his body language is a mix of nervousness and inner pride. he wants to please you which is a weird feeling for Aemond, so his fingers may fidget a little, but still; he stands tall

he quickly learns your daily routine and starts showing up in places you frequent. these "coincidental" meetings are his way of staying close without being too obvious (in his head at lest)

you quickly learn he uses a lot of sarcasm, but you learn to enjoy this side of his, actually he's quite funny

if you ask him for a favour, he might act like it's a bother, but he always does it, despite his outward coldness

sooo.... as you can see he's a little lost, unsure, but(!) this one time when his brother Aegon makes crude, inappropriate joke about you, Aemond's anger flares and that's when he truly realises his feelings for you may run deeper than he'd like to admit

Aemond tries to be more straight-forward at this point. he assist you whenever he can, subtly offering help here and there, giving you this little smirks of his

he often asks you random questions about your life (often very specific), wanting to know everything about you and it's quite endearing that he's so focused on you

stil he respects your space! or at least tries to. he doesn't want to intimidate you or make you uncomfortable with his presence (most of the time), even though being near you all the time is what he would prefer

he spent many sleepless nights analysing your conversations and overall every aspect of you

long walks; during those you talk about trivial things and deeper subjects like psychology, philosophy, or your favourite books and movies. Aemond is silently enjoying when you put your hand on his arm during those walks. these moments are when he feels most connected to you, when he melts more and more...

because finding someone attractive is one thing, but finding someone attractive and genuinely interesting is a whole new level and at this point Aemond is charmed, really charmed

encouraged by this connection growing between you, Aemond asks you out. and let me tell you- he's SERVING! like he arrives at your home to pick you up, greets you with a gentle kiss on the hand and a soft smile, the kind that sends butterflies fluttering in your stomach

and he smells so gooooood!!!!! I just know it

at dinner he pulls out your chair, ensuring you're comfortable before taking his own seat. throughout the meal, he’s attentive and considerate, paying for dinner without hesitation (duhh)

his eye contact is intense, making it clear he finds you captivating

about the first kisss.... at first it's gentle and tentative, almost like he's testing the waters. he would begin by leaning in slowly, his lips brushing against yours lightly, his hand cupping your jaw. he would look deep into your eyes, waiting for silent approval and when he gets it, he smiles and you smile too

as the kiss deepens, you’d feel the intensity building. the touch of his lips would become firmer, his body pressing you closer as he wraps his arms around you. his grip might grow more insistent, almost aggressive, as he pulls you in tight, the kiss becoming more passionate and intense. there's a raw edge to it, as if he's letting go of the restraint he's been holding onto, revealing the fire and desire that’s been simmering just beneath the surface

when you gasp softly against his lips, Aemond is losing control. his hand moves down to grab your ass, pulling you even closer, your lips crash and then he suddenly halts. moving back just enough to regain some composure. he's breathing heavily, trying to steady himself, his eye fixed on you with a mix of desire and restraint

"We should probably slow down, but I really don't want to."

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

you can find more of my works about aemond ♡here♡

#prince aemond #prince aemond targaryen #hotd aemond #aemond targaryen #aemond one eye #aemond headcanons #hotd headcanons #modern aemond #aemond x reader #aemond x you #aemond has a crush on you #aemond imagine #hotd imagine #aemond fluff

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russellsppttemplates · 3 days

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Hiii girl 🪻💐! First, nice to meet you xx ! I really love your vibe. Love purple pp 💜! Can I request a small os, please? I saw you wrote monegasque reader and all cute os. Can I ask you (you choose) Lando/Charles/Oscar with inked!reader (like full arms tattoos and stuff) it’s always wag so ✨perfect clean✨, I’m tired to see the clean vibe, I want to be delulu with rockie vibe, feminine tattooed wag, normal wag 😬. Topic could be : new tattoo with driver reaction or handle with people opinion. Thanks 💜🪻 if you’re not feeling to write it, it’s okay too. Have a nice day xx

Note: hiiii! Welcome to this little corner of the Internet I made along with everyone who follows this blog! Thank you - this is supposed to be as much a safe pace for you as it is for me 🫶 I hope you had a good day, too! 🫶

"Someone spotted you when you left the tattoo studio", Oscar said as he stepped inside the apartment after having spent the day in the Center, noticing you were wearing a cardigan even though it was a warm day out, "they posted a picture online".

"So it's not a surprise, is it?", you slumped your shoulders slightly, shrugging the cardigan off.

"I don't know what you got, so it's still a surprise, sweetheart", he smiled, hugging you and being mindful of the wrap around your arm.

Oscar sat on the sofa and allowed you to model the new tattoos for him. Your right arm didn't seem to have any new ink to it, the same three tattoos you had in there still looking beautiful after two years. You like the idea of having one arm slightly more bare than the other so your right arm only had those three on the inner side of it, peeking through whenever you were sleeveless tops. Your left arm was the one where the tattoos were the most noticeable, the ink pieces scattered along the extension of the limb.

"I got this one, it's a bee", you pointed to the inner part of your arm, "it represents my safe hive, the people who are always there for me even if I'm not there in person", you explained. You had moved in with Oscar a couple of months ago and, more than ever, you spent long periods of time away from your family since you travelled to see your boyfriend race as much as you could, "I know I can fly away, but no matter how far and how hard times can be, I'll always be able to come back".

"It looks so pretty, the detail on the wings is so precise", Oscar pointed out.

"I chose the artist at that studio because she is great at doing the fine line tatoos with red ink", you began again, smoothing out through wrap so Oscar could see, "it's a heart with some flowers blooming from it", you pointed to the anatomical drawing, "whenever I set myself to do something, I pour my heart and soul into it, and my intuition hasn't failed me, so it's a little symbol to that".

"The red is somehow both subtle against your skin and so eye catching as well, I think it's the contrast with this one here", Oscar lightly touched an older tattoo you had next to the new one.

"Then I got this one, which I am quite nervous to show you, actually", you admitted, looking at your right wrist and covering it for the mean time, "I know people are really fussy with having a relationship tattooed on you because things can change so fast, but I don't like to think like that - my tattoos represent times of my life and things that happened - and if anything happens and I can't absolutely tolerate it, I can always remove it", you shrugged your shoulders before uncovering it.

Oscar held your hand and inspected it gently - the thin knot was both black and red, symbolising you and Oscar with the different colours but tied together seamlessly.

"I had to get it on my right one because I wear my watch on the left", you mumbled and a little twinge of nervousness could be spotted in your tone given that he hadn't said anything, "do you like it?", you bit the bullet.

"I love it, it's so beautiful, delicate and feminine too", he smiled, kissing around it.

"I also got a lightning bolt here", you twisted your wrist, "this one is just black and it's quite tiny, but it's about all the times I insisted and persisted - my stubbornness too - and how much I value that in people", you smiled.

"You're stubborn? Never would have guessed it", your boyfriend teased, earning your giggles and an eyeroll from you, "the line is so beautiful, she did an amazing job!", he complimented.

"I also got my first neck tattoo", you mumbled, "well, it's the first time I do it there, not sure if that means I'll do another because it hurt a bit more than I expected", you blushed, letting Oscar pull your hair back so he could see it.

The red inked word was aligned with your ear, "I chose the word rare because it's a devotion to myself, my self-love - accepting that I'm not perfect and that that is okay - I love myself the way I am and it's also a lot thanks to you", you tried to keep the tears pooling on your eyes from falling, "you loved me for me, all of me, no matter how many times people liked to point out any of my tattoos or how I don't fit the 'wag role', and I want a reminder of it everyday", you smiled.

Oscar cupped your jaw gently, careful of the sore area as he kissed your lips in a hard, long, searing kiss, joining your foreheads afterwards, "I love you, Y/N, all of you", he whispered.

(Thank you for sending this in ✨️)

#oscar piastri blurb #inês writes blurbs #f1 blurb #f1 x reader

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ginabaker1666 · 2 days

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This Is Always

From the Love Letter Series

Robert “Rosie” Rosenthal x Josephine Harris (OFC)

The holidays are usually a time to be spent together, cold noses warmed by the fire, and joyful cheers as the New Year approaches. This year, Rosie is struggling with being away from Jo, and acknowledging the future that he dreams of sharing with her. A heart to heart with Crosby helps put things into perspective for both of them.

Read Part 3 Here Follow along with the Love Letters Playlist

January 1944

My Dearest Jo,

Happy New Year, honey pie! It’s just after midnight here, and though I wanted to be the first person to wish you a Happy New Year, I know that by the time you get this, it will be after the fact. I guess by writing this now, while it’s still ‘43 back home, I’m letting myself be greedy in being the first to send you those wishes. I hope you’re doing something fun tonight, and getting all dolled up to paint the town red. Your last letter came just after Christmas, but I would be remiss if I didn’t tell you just how happy it made me to hear that you were still doing all of your usual Christmas favorites, even if I’m not home to carry all your shopping bags back to Brooklyn after a full day in the city. Believe me, I even miss doing that, no matter how heavy some of them are.

I got Ma’s last letter just a few days before yours arrived, and she mentioned that you went by the house to celebrate Hanukkah with her and Jeanie. I know that made her really happy, and I can’t thank you enough for keeping an extra eye on both of them for me while I’m stuck over here. My sister would argue that she doesn’t need anyone keeping an eye on her, but I’m sure she appreciates your company, and will rub it in my face after the fact that she got to spend so much time with you. That’s what little sisters do, isn’t it?

We had a small thing in the Officers Club for the holidays; nothing too fancy, but there was music, and some good liquor that someone managed to scrounge up for the occasion. The Red Cross Clubmobile girls pulled some resources and, even with rationing, managed to bake a few cookies for us. They were good, but they couldn't hold a candle to yours.

I have never wanted one of your Christmas cookies more than after reading your letter, and to know that Jean Crosby took over as the official taste tester this year; oh it broke my heart darling. But, I’m glad to know that you two girls are keeping each other company, and I know that Croz is happy knowing that she’s not alone. I do hope you two aren’t causing too much trouble while we’re away. Knowing you the way that I do, I know that’s a bit of a pipe dream, but one of the reasons I adore you the way that I do.

At the risk of sounding melancholy, I’ve spent most of today wishing I could take you dancing; spin you around until we’re both dizzy, until finally we can ring in the new year with champagne. Crowded on the dance floor at Minton’s, wrapped up in each other. Maybe it’s bold of me to ask, or maybe it’s the whiskey, but would you have allowed me a midnight kiss, Jo? I can’t picture kissing anyone else as the clock strikes twelve, nor do I want to, on this holiday or any other day. I hope that by next year, we'll be able to spend the evening together, and not have to send holiday wishes in letters that take too long to get there.

I dream of you every night, sweetheart, and every night these sweet dreams end with a kiss before I’m pulled back to reality. I’ve been dreaming of the future, and if the real thing is anything like my dreams, I can’t wait for those days to begin. I wonder,do you dream of those days too? Of building a home together, a life that’s just ours. Living in the city, maybe somewhere near Harry and Jean. We could go to the pictures on Friday nights, and sleep in on Saturday’s, warm under the blankets until we peel ourselves from the sheets only because we need to make coffee. I’d spin you around the kitchen while we made breakfast, a record on the Victrola, the two of us tangled together while the eggs burned. The more I think about it, the more it all sounds like a dream come true.

Maybe it is the whiskey talking, but it’s getting late here. Or early depending on how you look at it, and even though we aren’t flying tomorrow, I’m sure the rest of the fellas will be returning from the Officers Club soon enough. I’ll be dreaming of you tonight, sweetheart, and counting the days until we’re together again.

Sending you millions of hugs and kisses, and all of my love.

Yours for always

Robbie

Rosie took a deep breath, and without giving himself a chance to second guess anything in his letter, folded it up and slid it inside the envelope. He’d address it in the morning and drop it off at APO so that it went out with the next mail call; tonight it would remain on the nightstand next to his bed, with Jo’s photo. He was still in his uniform, not having bothered changing after he returned to the Officer’s hut, and was about to take advantage of the empty shower stall, when the door swung open and Harry walked in.

“Thought I’d find you in here.” Harry spoke, hand coming up to loosen his tie.

“Yea, I uh, wanted to get a letter out to Jo,” Rosie signed, dragging his hand down his face. ‘Or at the very least, written.”

“It’s rough around the holidays isn’t it.” It wasn’t a question. Harry knew as well as he did, and he knew his friend was giving him an opening to get his feelings off his chest.

“Probably the most difficult part of all this. We’ve spent every Christmas and Hanukkah together since we met.”

“She celebrates Hanukkah with you and your mom?”

“Jo is the best gift giver in our family, according to my sister.” Rosie grinned.

“Sounds like your sister will be the disappointed one if you don’t put a ring on Jo’s finger when we get home.” Harry chuckled, dropping down onto his own bed, across from Rosie’s.

“She’d have to fight my Ma for the top spot, if I don’t marry Jo.”

The two shared a quiet moment as their thoughts drifted to a place far from England. Far from flak and casualties and torn fuselages. No thoughts of missing friends, mission counts or that damned red light never blinking off.

Rosie knew that Harry understood better than anyone; how it felt to be so devoted to someone, and yet, he felt compelled to ask the one question that, if he had to wager, everyone asks at some point.

“How’d you know Jean was the one?” He asked after a moment, gaze turned upward to meet that of his friend.

“She wanted nothing to do with me when we met,” Harry balked so loudly that it seemed to echo off the walls of the Nissen Hut. “But I knew. I didn’t want to spend another day without her.”

“Just like that, huh?”

“Oh yeah, you just know,” Harry nodded. “When did you know Jo was the one? And don’t tell me you didn’t…”

“Let’s just say I should have opened my mouth a long time ago.”

“Well, better late than never.”

“What if I was too late, Croz?”

Harry stood from his bed, moving around the front to lean himself against the footboard. With a determined gaze, he made sure he had Rosie’s full attention before saying what was on his mind.

“You can’t think like that. You need to believe you’re going home to her, that you two will have a life after all this.”

“God, I hope so.”

“I don’t know Jo as well as you do,” He started. “I only know what Jean tells me in her letters, but it sounds to me like she’s really something. And I’m not just saying that because she went out of her way to befriend my wife.”

“I told her I want a life with her, a future, our own place, Saturday mornings in bed, lazy days…”

“You want the dream.” Harry nodded in understanding.

“Told her maybe we’d move to the city, leave Brooklyn, get a place near you and Jean.”

“Sounds like we’ll be in trouble if that happens, Jo and Jean a stone's throw away from each other?”

“I think the two of us are going to have our hands full when we get home, Croz.”

“I bet they’re saying the same thing about us,” Harry laughed. “And I wouldn’t blame Jean. I’ve been a real handful as of late.”

“Oh yea, you’re causing lots of trouble all the way over here.” Rosie chuckled, propping his legs up on the bed, feet hanging off the edge so as to not dirty the sheets. He didn’t miss the slight look of distress that flashed across his friend's face.

He regarded him carefully; he looked like he had something on the tip of his tongue. His face looked worried, like he had something weighing him down exponentially, and Rosie would allow his friend the moment if he needed it. After all, it was the holiday’s and they were the best source of camaraderie that they had; friends should be there for each other. No one understood that better than he did.

“No, I’ve been a handful…” Harry finally continued.

“Croz?”

“Remember after Munster? When Harding sent me to Oxford?”

“Yea…”

“They double you up when you’re at those conferences, and my roommate, she-”

“Ah jeez, Croz…”

Harry sighed, dropping his head, too ashamed to look his friend in the eye. The moment had turned in the blink of an eye, and he wasn’t sure how to handle it, or get his friend through it. But he’d be damned if he didn’t try.

“I don’t know how to tell Jean.”

“Is this why you kept disappearing up to London? To see her?”

“How do I tell my wife that I slept with another woman?”

“You just do, Croz.”

“That’s the worst possible thing to write in a letter. ‘Honey, I miss you terribly, by the way…’”

“Alright, I see your point. But you need to tell her.”

“This fucking war,” Harry sighed. “I swear, it peels the humanity right from your bones.”

“Then you fight it.”

“More than we already have? More than what we’ve given and lost?”

Rosie knew he was referring to Bubbles, and for a moment he let his mind wander to Nash, and that first mission to Bremen. It would be easy to fold; to pack it up and let the fight take from you more and more. But he would be damned if he’d let it take more from him, and if he had to fight a little extra to make sure it didn’t take any more from his friend, he’d do that too.

“You’re not fighting it alone, Croz.”

“Feels like it most of the time.”

“And you’re fighting for something back home, even if you feel like you don’t deserve it at the moment.”

“I don't deserve her.”

“Yea, you do. And you’ll tell her everything, whether you write it, or tell her when we get home. And Jo and I will be there for you both.”

Harry looked like he was about to respond when the door to the Officers Hut swung open. He turned, half expecting a replacement officer, but was surprised to see Blakely and Douglass, the former with a cigarette tucked behind his ear, and Douglass swinging a bottle of something in his left hand.

“Nightcap, fellas?” Douglass lifted the bottle, and Rosie could just make out the label. Vat 69.

“Where the hell did you get that, Dougie?” Harry’s eyes went wide at the familiar label from back home. A very expensive label.

“Been saving it, so come on, let’s have a drink.”

“No, seriously, who’d you steal that from?” Rosie asked, watching as Blakely gathered four of the glasses the boys kept on their side tables for brushing their teeth.

“I won it in a bet, if you must know.” Douglass grinned, pulling the wax seal from the neck of the bottle before pulling the cork out.

“The details are not of importance,” Blakely chimed in, swatting Rosie’s legs off the bed to take up the space next to him. “What is important is that we’re here, and alive, so stop asking questions and have a drink would ya?”

Douglass poured for the four of them, dropping himself down on the bed next to Rosie’s, while waiting for Harry to join them.

“Any day now, Croz…” he groaned, glass between two fingers as he held it out for the navigator. “It’ll be ‘45 by the time you move.”

“Dougie… fuck off.” Harry stood with a laugh, brushing off his slacks before snatching the glass and taking the seat next to him. “And anyway, we’d all better be home by ‘45.”

“I’ll drink to that.” Blakely nodded, holding his glass up to cheers his friends, the only ones left that weren’t replacement crews, or trapped somewhere in the Stalag.

The foursome sat silently as they sipped their prize whiskey, thoughts turned presumably to home and memories of Christmas and New Years’ spent with people they loved and missed.

“Alright, what would you be doing if you were home right now?” Ev broke the silence, leaning his elbows on his knees, gaze landing on Harry.

“His wife, dumbass.” Douglass chuckled.

“Woah hey, none of that.” Rosie looked between the two, the rules immediately being put into place without having to say them.

They didn’t talk like that, but he assumed it had been a bit too much whiskey already for Douglass, and with there no mission on the horizon for tomorrow, their guards were all down a bit.

“Right, right, sorry Croz,” Douglass held his hands up in apology. “For real, what would you and Jean be doing if you were home?”

“We’d go out for dinner, but I think we’d probably be home for the bells,” he closed his eyes wistfully, and Rosie knew his friend was simply hoping that he’d be able to do that next year. “Dance in the living room, and yea, off to bed.”

Blakely nodded, reaching across to drop his hand to Crosby’s knee in a gesture of good faith, that he felt for him in a way, and was hoping he’d get that moment sooner rather than later.

“What about you?” Ev turned to his right, finding Rosie sitting quietly.

“What about me?” Rosie brought the glass to his lips, taking a small sip and letting the taste linger on his tongue a moment.

“Would you and Josephine be out on the town?” Douglass asked, gesturing to the photo on Rosie’s side table.

“Oh yea, we’d be at Minton’s, dancing until they kicked us out I’m sure.” Rosie laughed.

“Together at the club then?”

“Every year we go dancing on New Years,” Rosie started. “Christmas and Hanukkah are for family, New Years is for friends.”

“She’s more than a friend.” Harry looked at him pointedly.

“She is, and a fella can dream that she’ll say yes when I get home.”

Blakely, who had been pulling the cigarette from behind his ear to light it, fumbled, dropping it to the ground at Rosie’s confession.

“You got a ring?!”

“No, but, that’s my second order of business once I’m back stateside.”

“And the first?”

“To kiss the hell out of her.” Rosie confessed.

“Good man.” Blakely slapped him on the shoulder, a smile on his face.

It was absolutely the whiskey talking this time, but he was among friends. The trust was insurmountable. Between the confessions that had taken place before Ev and Dougie had joined them, and the warmth flowing through his veins, Rosie lifted the glass to his lips to drain it, before standing from his place on the bed. Swiping the envelope from earlier, and a clean sheet of paper from the table, he glanced at his friends with a grin, and offered a two fingered salute.

“Gentlemen, I’ll be back.”

“Where are you going! We still have more whiskey!” Douglass hollered after him.

“Save it for another occasion!” Rosie called back as he pushed through the doors and out into the chilly January air.

He walked until he found a spot under one of the lamp posts, the bench undoubtedly cold as he sat down, but he wouldn’t be out here for long. Just enough time, and privacy, to get the thoughts swarming around in his head out on the page before he lost his nerve.

Pulling his pen from his breast pocket, he carefully let the paper rest on his thigh before he began scrawling his extra note.

Hi Sweetheart,

I know this is coming with no context but, I want you to know how much I adore you. I know I’ve said it in different ways, and a few times by now, but, I mean it. Truly, you’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me, and I’m sorry it took me so long to say it. And to say it from thousands of miles away, with a war on no less. I wouldn’t blame you if you wanted to hit me once I’m back home.

Just know that I’ll always, always, carry your heart with the most careful of hands. I’ll keep you safe, and treasure every moment we have together. Anything you want, it’s yours, Jo. A quiet life together, or a herd of children that jump on the bed on Sunday mornings. I’ll make sure you have it honey.

Just know, I’m yours for however long you’ll have me, Josephine. I’m hoping for forever, but that’s a question for another day.

I love you,

Robbie

A/N: Thanks for reading! This series will continue for Rosie & Jo, so if you enjoyed this, please like, comment, reblog- whichever is your poison. Feedback is always welcome & my ask box is always open. If you want to be added to my tag list, or removed, let me know!

Tag List: @rowdy-redhead @winniemaywebber @sagesolsticewrites @rosiesriveter @bobparkhurst @victoryrollsandredlips @bcolfanfic @major-mads @footprintsinthesxnd @basilone @roosevelt-stalin-cocacola @justheretoreadthxxs @claireelizabeth85 @hephaestn @ktredshoes @barrykeoghussy @peachessndreamss @hellfirequinnie

#masters of the air #love letters: rosie & jo #mota fanfic #rosie rosenthal x ofc #rosie rosenthal fic #robert rosenthal x ofc #rosie rosenthal x oc #nate mann #hbo war #gina baker writes

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skyloftian-nutcase · 2 days

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First Meetings (Hero’s Shadow backstory!)

The highlands were particularly chilly today as Link looked out into the dunes of Gerudo territory. It was strange how he could be so close to barren heat while also freezing his butt off.

Trilling his lips, the half-Sheikah warrior stretched lazily, gaze drifting from spot to the next. He had been transferred to guard duty along the Hyrulian-Gerudo border for his new assignment. It was his first time truly far from home, and it was honestly pretty thrilling. Link loved to see and learn new things, and the Gerudo Highlands were so vastly different from the lush, wet valleys and mountains of home. Kakariko Village was tucked away near Lake Hylia, and Link had spent most of his youth swimming and rushing to the large Cracked Mountain - legend said an earthquake had caused the large split along its center, and it held mystical treasures within its belly, but all Link had managed to do as a child was get stuck halfway through and give his elders a heart attack.

Either way, he loved exploring, and this place was all entirely new. The Highlands were visible from the capital on the Royal Plateau, but he’d never really known what to expect of any of it. Now that he was assigned here, he wanted nothing more than to explore every inch of the place.

But at the moment he was on duty, and so he stayed in his position.

It wasn’t as if the Gerudo were particularly hostile. They were not part of the kingdom and needed to be watched, and they were a warrior people, making them more threatening than others, but still… they hadn’t really caused problems for Hyrule, nor vice versa. There was definitely a wariness between the factions, though, and it created tension.

Movement caught Link’s eye, and he turned, wondering if maybe it was another lizard (he had already collected three), when he realized it was a person. Small, far in the distance, but someone nonetheless. Curious and a little wary, Link crept closer, hand slowly resting atop his katana, and then he got a closer look.

It was a Gerudo. A teenager, from the looks of it - maybe even around his age. She had twin scimitars, and she was practicing with them, slicing hydromelons with ease. Link watched her a little while, watched the way she moved so fluidly, the way her muscles rippled with each twist and turn, the way her hair reflected the sun far more than the sands did. He felt himself staring a little too long, his heart fluttering a little, and he stepped back, a little overwhelmed. The girl seemed to sense his scrutiny, stopping and looking around before glancing upward at him. Link swallowed, throat dry.

She—she was—she was beautiful.

Link heard a sandal on stone, and his adrenaline immediately spiked, every nerve on high alert, just in time to see a shadow cast over him. He looked up and saw a large figure seemingly falling out of the sky towards him, large mace in hand, and Link gasped a little, rolling out of the way as the weapon slammed into the earth.

Grabbing the hilt of his katana with his left hand, the thirteen-year-old immediately went into action. The initial removal from the scabbard was a wide slash, pushing the figure—a man who bore Gerudo traits (but weren’t all the Gerudo women? That’s what he’d heard)—back a little to avoid getting eviscerated. The sun shone behind the man, blinding Link a little, and he changed his position, breaking the kata in order to get a better view. It gave his opponent an opening, and he took a large step forward, swinging the mace horizontally. Link ducked, thankful for his small stature, and jabbed his blade directly forward. His enemy twisted to the side to dodge, and Link’s flank was wide open, giving the man an opportunity to do a one-handed swing with his weapon.

It hit true, slamming Link in the ribs.

The young warrior went flying, hitting the cliffside and falling to the ground, trying desperately to catch his breath. He heard the person walk towards him, and then heard under his breath, in a bemused tone, “A child?”

Link gasped life back into himself, ignoring how his ribs protested, and he sprang back to his feet, gripping his blade with both hands as he did another sweeping cut to drive his enemy back. He jerked a little at the end of the fluid motion, hissing in pain. His ribs were definitely broken.

Did he have a fairy? An elixir? He didn’t remember packing anything, but—

Link’s eyes widened as the man strode forward purposefully, both hands around the leather handle of the enormous mace, and he swept it right where Link’s head was. Clapping his hands together, the teenager channeled his magic, feeling the air sucked out of his lungs as he disappeared before the weapon could land a hit.

Ganondorf stared, blinking at the blank space where the child had just been. Despite being caught off guard by the Hylian’s age, he was still armed and he’d still been watching his daughter, which merited a swift response. The Gerudo king looked around a moment, confused, before hearing clothes fluttering. He turned around wildly, still seeing nothing, and then the sun reflected off something bright just above him, and he looked up and—

The child was about to stab him in the head.

Hissing, Ganondorf pushed hard with his right leg, jerking his body to the side just in time for the Hylian to slice his blade across his shoulder and part of his chest. Ganondorf bit back a yell, his blood pumping faster than it had in ages, and when he’d finished dodging, he’d almost had to laugh.

He didn’t know how this child was actually managing to put up a fight, but this was actually kind of invigorating. The boy had even landed a blow!

Ganondorf knew he’d won, though, based on how the boy struggled to breathe, so he paused before continuing the fight. “Who are you, child?”

The boy immediately hesitated, clearly caught off guard by his change in tone, and he stood hesitantly in a ready stance. “My name is Link.”

“Link,” Ganondorf repeated, humming and putting the mace on a strap on his back. The Hylian hesitated, red eyes curious and hopeful and far too trusting. In an instant, Ganondorf pulled out his spear, slamming the boy’s abdomen with the blunt end. The child gasped, falling to his back, and the fight was over. Ganondorf approached him slowly, watching his chest heave as he struggled to breathe. He pulled out a red potion, plopping it on the ground next to the boy, and dug the sharp end of his spear into the earth beside the child’s light blonde hair. “Don’t watch my daughter again.”

With that, the Gerudo king walked away, wondering what in the world Hyrule Kingdom was doing sending children to its borders anyway. But he had to admit… he was impressed by the boy’s fighting prowess.

Link grimaced, turning enough to grab the potion and chug it, wondering what in the world just happened.

Despite reporting the incident to his superiors, not much was really done. Apparently, there was concern that this was the actual King of the Gerudo himself, and no one would dare cause problems by claiming the king had attacked a lowly Hyrulian guard. Link wasn’t important enough to merit a war. He also felt immensely guilty he’d even managed to bring about any concern for one.

Sighing, the teenager resumed his post the next day, a little more wary and more than a little put out.

When he heard a foot scuff on stone, he immediately drew his blade, wondering what kind of insanity he was going to deal with now.

Instead, he saw the girl he recognized from yesterday, carrying a basket and looking apologetic.

“Hey,” she said softly, holding her hands up to appease him. “I don’t mean any harm.”

“This is the Hyrule border,” Link warned, not moving.

“Yeah. I know.” The teenager replied dully, as if it were obvious. Well… it was, but still. What else was he going to say?

“That means you can’t be here,” he explained, though there was less force in his voice.

“Yeah, yeah,” the girl replied dismissively. “Technically I can’t cross the line. That’s somewhere between you and me. I’m still in Gerudo territory.”

Link lowered his sword, growing confused. “Yeah, but… what do you want?”

“I wanted to say sorry,” the girl replied, lowering her arms and gripping the basket with both hands. “My dad is… overly protective. But… yeah. You want food?”

Link blinked. Blinked again. “Uh… sure?”

The girl smiled, trotting over and grabbing a stick. She traced a line in the dry earth, easily creating a division between them. “There. There’s the border. I won’t cross this line. But we can have a picnic in the meantime.”

Link stared at her, then at the line, then back at her. And then he giggled. “A picnic sounds nice.”

The two sat across from each other, the center of the basket placed directly over the line, and slowly they started to eat and chat. And if they stayed there for hours until the sun started to set, neither really commented on it.

And if they saw each other the next day for another picnic, neither complained.

And if a King and Queen of the Gerudo stood exasperatedly at the bottom of the cliff the tenth time it happened, neither of them noticed.

#writing #Hero of shadow #totk #Ganondorf #hemisi #Gan: *thinks some grown man is being a creep on his 13 year old daughter* oh I’m about to break ALL the treaties #Gan after realizing it’s a kid: Oh. Well. He was looking anyway so I’m teaching him a lesson.#Gan after realizing this is a kid who can FIGHT: Huh. Ok. I’m intrigued.#Hemisi and Link are cute <3 #I love them #legend of zelda #No editing my honor dies like Shadow #Poor baby T-T

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gabatronnie · 3 days

Note

I feel ya sis, with that said can you do "it" with crush!chaggie(Charlie and Vaggie). Reader and them aren't dating yet.

Reader is a strong overlord but suffer from depression, their insanely strong. (This part is my personal headcanon) reader has no limits shapeshifting, like they could shift into anything, lost an arm? Make a new one. Want different hair style? Just change it, something like that.

This takes place after ep 8. The hotel has been rebuilt and everything has settled down, and reader was still overwhelming stressed.

Reader resides in the hotel in one of the many new rooms, they had a anglic dagger(ordered from Carmine herself) and they just had the urge to do "it", and so they did it. But Charlie and vaggie had went to get them for an activity, and saw them do "it".

Basically i just want them to comfort me🥲

No need to do it if it makes you uncomfortable, and sorry if it's too long just thought you might want some extra details. The rest you can do as you please.

Thanks if you can do it, and no probs if you can't do it

chaggie comforting reader after they relapse (hcs)

this piece includes the following: self harm, blood, depressive (possibly suicidal) thoughts

it was vaggie who initially walked in on you whilst in the act, with charlie following soon after, and it’s safe to say that well… they were shocked.

charlie was confused more than anything, you seemed perfectly happy inside and out, and to say she was shocked was an understatement, and even if you weren’t all those things, she couldn’t understand why someone so amazing would do something so awful, especially if it’s to themselves

vaggie was more so personally upset with herself, as we see throughout the course of the show, vaggie can get hard on herself when she feels as if she didn't fufill some kind of quota on how much she's supposed to do for you

but aside from all that, vaggie will softly but sternly tell you to put the dagger down, as charlie softly mutters “what happened..?”

charlie and vaggie approach you slowly, a bit hesitant to push anything, but vaggie takes the dagger from you and softly places it somewhere safe before the three of you have a conversation

it may seem like your being scolded or lectured by these two, but you’re not, they just want to be safe and happy, that’s really all that matters to them

charlie will probably shed a few tears, she feels awful, and feels like she’s failed you in a way - like she hasn’t properly down her job

you three go over that your girls want you to be safe and happy and they understand life gets hard and people make mistakes, but that this isn’t the way to do it

once you three address the main issues and go over a few ground rules, they just wanna hug you, especially charlie

it’s safe to say that after this, charlie and vaggie both try their best to be more aware of your behaviors and emotions, charlie makes sure to include more mental health themed activities for the hotel residents, and vaggie ensures that you aren’t alone for an extended period of time on a regular basis

a/n: originally this was gonna be a oneshot but it didn’t save so i spent like almost all day writing this but as headcanons 😔 either way i hope it’s still enjoyable

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castawavy · 2 days

Text

November Save MEGA summary (part 8)

before / next

here it is... the penultimate chapter of november save, its been a long journey guys and im glad you all joined me on it. this was definetly my fave family and one that was really important to me because I made steve and june during a time in my life where things were very uncertain & I was going through a lot of changes, so they were pretty much my one contsant for awhile, anyways here are the photos!

so steve and june are still on their little fitness journey together, its a thing that steve has always been into but june wanted to join him cuz she got super into yoga

then as usual they couldnt keep it in their pants

june also got promoted to judge finally, she basically switched career branches after she left Landgraab Industries, but I didnt have any pics of her leaving... but now she works at the local court, and doesnt have to commute to the city anymore which she prefers

then it was Winterfest 🎁 and I decked the halls

lucky elijah got gifted a telescope but I don't remember what we got adelaide

adelaide spent new years with her childhood friend peter (luke's step son) in san myshuno I think she graduated from highschool by now but again, ive lost the photos from her prom... idk what happened to those

the bheeda girls were there too of course, theyre kind of like cousins to adie since shes very close with them even though theyre not even related AHAHAHA

she also met a mysterious stranger named jolene who she later kissed at a house party, she kind of stopped seeing landon because the two of them would always fight, and I think she just had enough

steve and moose cuteness

and a makeover for elijah in prepartion for his YA life stage (he sometimes wears contact lenses now)

THEN a major event in steve's life, but he spoke with june and she persuaded him to finally reconnect with his younger sister, Claire, who he has kind of been no contact with since he was a teenager (mostly because he cut off contact with his parents)

later in spring, the weather started to get nice, so steve and june threw a BBQ / get together with all their friends in the yard

sita and elijah also reconnected as they hadnt really seen eachother since they were toddlers and sita quite liked him :eyes:

then when everyone was gone, steve & june enjoyed some quality time together in the new pool...

meanwhile elijah and sita got cozy and 'watched' a movie teehee

ALSO big news from Raj FINALLY he couldnt make it to the BBQ cuz he and julia just had TWINS

adelaide also worked her final shift at the country club and she and her coworkers played some foosball behind their manager's back

before / next

#ts4 #ts4 gameplay #sims 4 #sims 4 gameplay #november save #nsgen1

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laura1633 · 2 days

Note

Have you ever written secret omega for lestappen?

I have written a secret omega lestappen but it was also an alternative universe with Charles as a secret omega F1 driver and Max as an alpha cuddle therapist. I actually removed it off ao3 as I wanted to work it into a longer story so I can't link it but I have included it below the cut.

Max could still very vividly recall just how surprised everyone was when he presented as an alpha. He too had long suspected that he was an omega. It was a reasonable assumption, he seemed to possess all the qualities people liked to associate with omegas and very few alpha traits.

His dad had been overjoyed, apparently alphas were strong and far more likely to succeed in business. He tried his best to look at the positives, his father was technically correct, society seemed to have some very outdated views about omegas in the workplace. At least presenting as an alpha gave him more opportunities in life. Still, he couldn’t help but feel a little disappointed.

During his teenage years he tried to fit into the mould that had been laid out for him. He was boisterous which at times spilled into anger and aggression. He tried to go into everything full on without fear and take what he wanted. For the most part he got away with it. When he picked fights people wrote it off as just something young alphas did, when he argued people mostly backed down or backed away. It never came naturally though and as he got a little older his behaviour started to feel more erratic and out of control rather than strong and stable.

A complete misjudgement in his early twenties changed the course of his life for the better. After a few too many drinks he had gotten himself into a fight with a much, much larger alpha and had ended up in hospital. When he was eventually discharged, still battered and bruised, he decided to stop pretending to be something he wasn’t and set out to become the alpha he always wanted to be. He let himself be vulnerable and display his emotions openly, he softened and calmed. The best part was that the more he settled into his new ways the more he realised that everything he had learnt about omegas and alphas was based on oversimplified ideas.

Whilst his new outlook may not have impressed his father it did lead him to his job and he loved his job more than anything because he was finally doing something good in the world.

The alpha buzzed the apartment for his newest client. Today was the first meeting, a time to reassure and explain all the benefits that came along with cuddling. It was also a chance for the client to set their boundaries and really think about their needs. Max was realistic, he knew a lot of people did not understand the virtues of cuddle therapy but he one hundred percent believed in it. He had evidence to back it up too, he had helped so many people.

Yesterday he had spent the morning cuddled up to an elderly omega who had lost her husband a year prior and just wanted to feel some level of intimacy and warmth without the guilt or hassle of trying to find someone new. Then there were clients who were dealing with stress but had no-one else to turn to, he would feel them settling into his arms and slowly relaxing. Then there were omegas who had had traumatic experiences with alphas and needed reassurance. When it came down to it most people had a basic need for comfort and kindness but didn’t always have a support system in place to provide it and he was more than happy to be there to help them through the tough times.

This client was his first ‘celebrity’. Not that they would be treated any differently. Each client was special and unique and the sessions were designed around their individual needs. It did however mean he had had to sign a very lengthy non disclosure agreement, and that was how he came to discover that F1 World Champion Charles Leclerc was not an alpha but an omega.

Max knocked on the door and patiently waited, when Charles eventually answered he looked a little hesitate but let him in.

“I don’t know how we start..” Charles mumbled, clearly a little stressed.

“We can just talk first” Max smiled reassuringly.

“You can’t tell anyone any of this can you? I just, if people find out then I will not be allowed to drive” Charles chewed on the sleeve of his oversized jumper.

“No I can’t and I would never. The whole point of this is for you to relax. Why don’t you tell me what you are hoping to get out of this?”

“Honestly, I just… I just want to be held. I have to spend all my time pretending that I am something I am not, sometimes I just want to lie in an alpha’s arms” Charles felt his face blushing red.

“That is understandable”

“It is?” Charles looked up hopeful.

“Of course. Human interaction is so important, genuine human interaction”

Charles smiled, “See this is what I mean, I can get a friendly hug or a pat on the back but I just.. well I am off my suppressants for winter break and I just.. I just need…to be myself and feel nice”

“We can do that” Max assured, he knew a little about trying to be something you weren’t. He may not have had to go on suppressants but he had certainly suppressed his true self for years. He would never push Charles to reveal his true designation but he would certainly give him as much comfort as he could.

“Can we just .. I mean I would prefer not to talk much”

“That is fine, this is your time, whatever you need” Max reassured. He preferred to talk first, to find out what the client needed so he could plan appropriately but some clients just wanted physical contact straight away, which was fine, he found those same clients opened up eventually.

“Do you do it here or like on a bed or in silence or ..”

“It is however you are most comfortable. We can of course cuddle in bed but I find most clients prefer something a little less intense the first time. Maybe cuddle here, in front of a movie if you would prefer”

“Sure, yes that would be good” Charles exhaled deeply, already flicking on the television and finding something inoffensive to put on.

“Okay I am going to hug you now Charles, let me know if you want me to move away or if anything is uncomfortable or overwhelming”

Charles nodded, he wasn’t entirely sure how a hug could be overwhelming but then again he had never actually snuggled up to alpha properly before. He had pretty much given up intimacy for racing. He took breaks in his suppressants and lived as an omega in the confines of his home during winter break but he could never chance a hook up or a relationship.

The omega shuffled a little closer into the alpha’s arms and tried to settle against their chest. Max’s body was warm, his chest broad and soft, his arms large and muscular. It was exactly what Charles was hoping it would be. He inhaled deeply, taking in the scent of cedarwood that blended so beautifully with his own sweet scent.

As Max wrapped his arms around him and held him close Charles felt himself drifting in and out of sleep, each time waking up to hear himself purring contently until he felt like he was floating. The omega took steadying breaths, moaning softly as he concentrated on Max’s chest rising and falling and the sound of his heartbeat.

“Are you okay Charles?”

“Yes, I …I…” Charles suddenly realised he was crying, Max’s t-shirt was wet where he had been resting his head, he moved away quickly, completely embarrassed, “Sorry I am not sure why I am crying”

“It is normal” Max tentatively soothed an arm up and down the omega’s arms and ushered them back closer to him, “It is just a lot, yes?”

“Yes” Charles mumbled, he really hadn’t expected such a physical reaction to being held but it truly was overwhelming.

“Just relax Charles, I’ve got you. You are safe”

“Okay” Charles tried to let go of the tension in his body, thinking about each of his muscles in turn until he felt weightless again, only being held down by the alpha’s strong grip., “It…. It feels nice”

“Good, would you like me to talk to you?”

“Maybe” Charles looked up to meet the alpha’s eyes, “And say what?”

“Just the truth” Max smiled, “That I think you deserve only good things. That you deserve to be able to be yourself”

“I wish” Charles hummed contently at the thought of finally being free, of finally letting everyone know that their precious alpha world champion was actually an omega.

“Perhaps one day” Max held Charles tightly, the omega’s body relaxing more and more as they held each other.

“One day” Charles closed his eyes and relaxed. One day he was going to do it, he was going to turn up as his true authentic self, was going to pave the way for other omegas. Today though, today he was just content to be in Max’s arms.

#Never have I ever game #Lestappen fanfic

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missadmyre · 3 days

Text

New animatic for y'all!!!

youtube

This project... Bro...

This took me way too long, and I... *shivers*..., have more of these as WIP.

Pls don't flop I spent my free time after studying for this😭

On the other hand, Chase, you gotta stop aggravating your wife bro!

You're in his territory. Will kick your ass!

(Chase only got in to the Nomicon bc he himself got marked by First Ninja as seen in one of my explanations of this au and is therefore kind of a guest.

But a good chunk is bc he's still unadmittedly pissed off after a defeat on a showdown with the Xiaolin monks and wants to rant about it.

Bro managed to get into a mental gymnastic fortress through sheer anger and willpower alone)

Thank y'all so much for the support, really appreciate it.

#It's like Chase is going home after war #Only to see his exasperated “wife” (his wife's words not his) bitch about how he infiltrated his home #They kinda fought for awhile #But they already accepted the fact that they're married #Woohoo! Beating each other up is fun!#Couple goals #Amiright?#rc9gn fanart #rc9gn #rc9gn first ninja #chase young #my immortal soul #ninja showdown #xiaolin showdown #randy cunningham 9th grade ninja #Youtube

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manorpunk · 2 days

Text

3️⃣

History only makes sense in retrospect.

Take, for example, the decade-long period of the French Revolution, or the decades between World War I and World War II. A decade is like a blip to the casual historian, a mere moment, so short it was nearly one-dimensional, like a line separating the before from the after. Those who lived through it, however, must have spent years wondering each morning whether their current government and/or life would still exist by lunchtime, and even when the dust finally settles, that’s not really a feeling that one can easily forget. People can only draw neat, dispassionate little lines around such events when they no longer live in its shadow, and the shadow of the Polycrisis still loomed menacingly over the American League.

There were some who were eager to move on, who would say that progress is always disruptive - the old must be dismantled to make way for the new. Others would say that it was one thing to have a controlled demolition, and an entirely separate thing to wake up one day to find that your electricity and plumbing were no longer working, and the government was not going to help you because its existence was tenuous at best, and all of the sub-contracted third-party subsidiaries who actually did the work of repairing power grids refused to take responsibility with your piddly little suburb because they were too busy trying to keep the lights on in places that ‘actually mattered.’

The causes of the Polycrisis were many and varied, hence the name, but a certain pattern had emerged in retrospect - climate change caused natural disasters, natural disasters destroyed infrastructure, destroyed infrastructure caused economic collapse, economic collapse caused political collapse. Casual historians might note how that pattern echoed the fall of most empires going back to the fall of Rome. But it was never supposed to happen to America. The blessed antipodes were not supposed to be like everywhere else. They were supposed to be where the lights always stayed on. Always.

Well, sometimes.

As the US federal government shrank, retreated, and finally collapsed, new states sprang up soon after. New England, Tidewater, and the Free Imperial New York drew their lines along the east coast; Cascadia created itself and formed a personal union with the Californian Commonwealth on the west coast after the Jefferson Rebellion was put down; and the Texaplex Megapole asserted its authority over Texas and neighboring states promising protection against Norteño incursions. The Great Lakes Republic formed shortly and reluctantly afterwards, becoming a sprawling Germany-esque collection of mid-sized cities jockeying against one another.

The rest of America, its vast and abandoned plains, its hollowed-out mountains and sinking coasts, became ‘the manors,’ places where power had devolved down to the newest class of rural gentry: fast food franchisees, car dealerships, beverage distributors, and the like. They were small-business tyrants and petite-bourgeoise corporate middlemen who had spent their lives wishing for the government to hurry up and collapse already so that they could live out their fantasies of being petty kings, bandit chiefs, and lords of the manor (hence the name). They would not give up their fantasies without a bitter and bloody fight.

Also, Orlando had become the microstate of Disneystadt, the Founderist equivalent of Vatican City.

Also, the western side of Appalachia was now a khaganate.

Perhaps one day people would see it as something like the French Revolution or interwar period, as a goofy but brief period of liminal turmoil wedged between two separate worlds. Here is how some of her contemporaries saw it:

“They elected fucking Spongebob president,” said Cornelius Mammon, the pale and wraithlike governor of New England, seated at one end of a long semicircular table, lined with chairs along its curve, all facing a gigantic wall-mounted screen on the far end of the room. ‘Old money’ seemed inadequate to describe the austere and sunken appearance of Cornelius; he was more like undead money.

On the one hand, New England was populous, urbanized, relatively geographically sensible, united by a distinct and storied culture, and had been poised to shrug off the Polycrisis and carry on as normal. On the other hand, Boston and Philadelphia.

“Here I thought things were going to get back to normal,” Cornelius continued hoarily, “and now she’s going to rename the White House to ‘the Fun Zone.’ This is why democracy was a mistake.”

“Normal?” Young Oldman, governor of the Tidewater region, scoffed. He had a calculated plain appearance, revealing little about himself. Even his skin was a beige ‘off-white’ color that made people guess whether he was biracial or Middle Eastern or just a white guy with a tan. Ruling over the former head of the imperial American government and its intelligence apparatus, Young had learned to play it so close to the vest you’d need a seam ripper to get any answers out of him. He always kept his mouth shut.

Well, sometimes.

“Would that Sunny were some unwelcome intrusion of oddness into an otherwise august body. Have you seen the other nut bars we’ve been packed in here with?” Young jabbed a thumb at his neighbor, Vinny Vidivici, mayor of Free Imperial New York, who looked like a clogged shower drain that had gained sentience and put on a suit.

“You folks ever been to New York? We exchange money for goods and services there. Greatest fuckin city in the world baby,” Vinny said.

Young nodded and silently daydreamed about hunting him for sport.

“Personally, I think Sunny is just some GLN cabalist with a voice modulator,” said Johann van Gekkehuis, the pasty, gravelly-voiced, flannel-wearing governor of the Great Lakes Republic, with a bushy copper beard and a receding hairline, “have you ever seen her and Harold in the same room?”

“Yes,” said Young. Just because he played it close to the vest didn’t mean he couldn’t mess with people, and Johann was easy to mess with.

Johann had made his bones as a podcaster and had a natural talent for disguising all manner of conspiracy theories and ostensibly playful bigotry as good old-fashioned hard-nosed socialism. But being a conspiracy theorist wasn’t fun anymore. There was no point. The globalist puppet-masters didn’t hide in shadowy backrooms. They had HR departments, they had newsletters, they sent spam emails demonstrating the ways they controlled and surveilled every moment of your life, and that was so much more demoralizing than keeping it secret.

Behind Johann paced a meticulously handsome black man in a crisp navy blue suit, his eyes hidden behind a large pair of shades. He nodded to himself as he walked and talked into his headset. He was Michael McCoy, governor of the Piedmont region. Piedmont, encompassing the eastern half of Georgia and the Carolinas, was one of the newer states, and its constituents had carried the extra burden of rebuilding and reorienting themselves after the race war. They finished what the Northerners had started and then abandoned, two hundred years ago almost exactly, Northerners who decided they would let millions of black people linger as third-class citizens rather than hang even a few openly seditious gentlemen. But not Michael McCoy. Enough with being respectable, enough with being nonviolent, enough with taking the high road. Michael McCoy wanted blood.

That was a lie - Michael McCoy was an agricultural manager who rose to prominence shortly after the bloodshed had ended thanks to a series of excellent ad campaigns and his public image as a squeaky-clean family man. He simply enjoyed a victory lap as much as the next guy. And maybe wanted a little blood.

“Listen,” Michael said into his headpiece, “I’m not saying we need the change to be permanent. I just want it to be called ‘N[redacted]land’ for like a couple hours, then it can go back to being Piedmont. We don’t even have to tell anyone else about it.”

(Certain words have been redacted in the interest of not saying them. If you wish to see racial slurs, they can be unlocked by submitting proof of relevant ancestry to your local department of reclamation).

He listened through his earpiece, then scowled. “Why? I’ll tell you why - because then Sunny would have to say it on camera, and that would be fucking hilarious. See? You laughed, you get it. You want to know what would happen. It’s - listen, just - yeah - no - if - alright, alright, fine,” he sighed, “no name change. It’s staying as Piedmont. Y’all pussies.”

The atmosphere of general grumbling was interrupted by a choir of air horns blaring the opening bars to the Star Spangled Banner. The massive screen at the far end of the room turned itself on, revealing a towering Sunny Roosevelt with a long red dress and a thin, fuming smile.

“Hi! Wow. I heard all of that,” she said.

Michael McCoy took off his headset and looked up. “Miss Roosevelt, I have an urgent request-“

“No. Let’s get a few things straight here-” Sunny began.

“No, let’s you get something straight,” Cornelius fumed, jabbing a bony finger at her and half-standing up, “you have no power over us. You’re a fucking mascot, and we are the directors of-”

“Michael, slap him,” Sunny said.

Michael turned, grinned, and dutifully slapped Cornelius across the face in one smooth unhesitating motion. Cornelius was stunned into silence, looking between the two of them, not sure who to fume at. Young bit back a smile. Sunny pounced on the momentary silence.

“Okay, thing one - people actually like mascots. They do not like a bunch of rich old ghouls who are three minutes away from eating each other alive. Thing two - I’m so much more than a mascot. I’m a widely-beloved celebrity with millions of psycho-sexually obsessed followers hanging on my every word. So, what do you think that means for the next person who pisses me off?”

Nobody said a word, but as they pondered the threat of a weaponized legion of John Hinckleys, there was the sound of several sphincters involuntarily clenching (for the curious, it sounded a little like jumping on a rubber mat).

“That’s what I thought. You see this?” Sunny pointed at her own face, “this is Angry Sunny. You get Angry Sunny because you weren’t niceys to me. If you are niceys to me, you get Happy Sunny, and you want Happy Sunny. Happy Sunny will get you re-elected. Angry Sunny will kill you. Am I understood?”

There was a nervous, shifting silence as the east coast branch of Neo-Congress began to digest their new situation, except for Michael, who was hoping he would get to slap someone again.

“Am I understood?” she barked.

There were guilty, mumbled agreements. That would have to do for now. Sunny snapped her fingers. Her red dress became shorter and frillier. A blue collar lined with white stars appeared on her shoulders. Even the lines of her face became softer and more youthful. Happy Sunny clasped her hands together and smiled radiantly.

“That’s great! I’m so glad we got that little whoopsie-doodle figured out, and I’m sure it won’t happen again. I’m looking forward to working with all of you towards our common goal of making America… well, extant again.”

#manorpunk #heaven is falling #I am making myself post this instead of continuing to fiddle with it n more days #I have a doc now where I keep all the mini-scenes I trimmed and it is GROWING

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paigemathews · 2 years

Text

Okay, so I ended up accidentally spiraling into a thing about everyone’s combat abilities, but then Prue’s got so long that I’m splitting them up. This mini-series of posts are gonna be a combination of canon and headcanons (look, I’m insisting that some of these people take a defense class, it makes sense), but Prue’s is entirely canon. I’ll eventually come back and link all of them together somehow.

Prue Halliwell

Initially, Prue is actually the sister seemingly most reliant on her powers when fighting. During the first two seasons, she primarily uses her powers to fight and only resorts to any type of hand-to-hand or self-defense when her powers are no longer an option, such as when she’s attacked by the Dream Sorcerer or dealing with Nicholas in season one. Furthermore, her focus tends to be getting away from the fight rather than full on fighting.

It’s really only after she gets her astral projection, a power that leaves her without her telekinesis, that she begins to deal with more nonmagical fighting. When she first realizes that her astral projection leaves her without her powers, she attacks Drazi with a block of wood in Heartbreak City.

Pretty much immediately after that episode, she begins to integrate some nonmagical aspects into her fighting style. What’s really interesting to me is that she mostly seems to be integrating the hand to hand in scenes where she’s reasonably sure that she can handle her opponent without magic. For example, she kicks one of the guys in Animal Pragmatism and does limited hand-to-hand combat with the Film Geek under a spell in Chick Flick, but has also already or does use telekinesis to win the fight.

The other times that she uses hand-to-hand when fighting is when she doesn’t have her powers and has no other options. Notably, she isn’t focused on winning the fight in those situations but getting away from her attacker. This includes her and Piper knocking the shelf over onto Cryto in How to Make a Quilt Out of Americans and her kicking one of the horror movie villains in the face and running in Chick Flick.

Season three is when Prue really incorporates hand-to-hand in her fighting style and also becomes such a skilled fighter. She uses telekinesis and nonmagical fighting in The Honeymoon’s Over, taking on multiple opponents at a time and winning. She uses her temporary empathy in Primrose Empath to augment her powers and fighting ability, kicking Vinceres’ ass in a super satisfying fight scene. There’s also the Wrestling with Demons match with Phoebe.

Prue continues incorporating hand-to-hand into her fighting style in season three, including kicking Belthazar in Power Outage and her interactions with Krell in Sleuthing with the Enemy. She demonstrates increased agility in Blinded by the Whitelighter. She’s flexible and does backflips or other acrobatic moves when fighting, as seen in both Primrose Empath and Wrestling with Demons.

She also demonstrates a passing knowledge of guns, being able to use them incredibly quickly in the Good, the Bad, and the Cursed when she and Cole go to the past. Along with guns, Prue has used knives several times and also used a crossbow.

By the end of season three, her fighting style incorporates both her powers and hand-to-hand combat and she appears equally comfortable with both. While she didn’t demonstrate a lot of fighting ability before roughly halfway through season two, I feel like it’s probable that Prue took some kind of self-defense or fighting classes previously, in part because of her personality. She’s one of the best fighters of the entire cast and of the Charmed Ones. Realistically, she seemed to surpass Phoebe, but due to Phoebe not dying in season three and Phoebe’s entire journey, I’m going to say that Prue is actually the second best fighter.

#charmed #prue halliwell #charmed meta #ogwork #abi speaks #charmed combat analysis #i think that'll be the tag i use for this mini series #i originally was just gonna do like a paragraph for everyone's #then this became over 500 words so i dont think that its gonna be a paragraph anymore #i spent too long on this but that's. not really that new

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