New Merch - More Under The Cut

Olivia and Alexander Reunion

Olivia POV/1st Person

I walked to the edge of the camp looking for a somewhat high-ranking soldier to take me to the commander of the Continental Army.

“Halt! Who goes there?” a blue coat announced loud and clear. Bingo. I was wearing a simple light blue dress with a cloak, the hood covering my face.

“Who are you and what are you doing here?” he questioned in a commanding voice. “Hello, my name is Olivia Hamilton and I need to see General George Washington,” I answered him.

“Why do you need to see his Excellency?” he asked, now cautious and suspicious. “Please, sir, it is urgent. I can only say it to his presence and no one more.” I pleaded.

“Miss Hamilton, I have been expecting you,” a man said with the same uniform, but with a blue sash and grey potato hair. Seriously what is up with that? He is the only one with potato hair. I looked around and the entire army with their guns out, but thankfully not pointed towards me.

Their expressions however are mixed with shock, confusion, and apprehension. I looked to the right of Potato Hair Man and saw someone that looks almost exactly like me. Vibrant red hair, violet-blue eyes, a little bump on the nose, cream skin with peach blush covering the freckles on each cheek, nose, and ear, and looks about 5’7 frame.

The only difference between us is that I was a few centimeters taller than him, while he had coily curls, I had more soft curls, my hair was longer than his and braided into a plait hanging on my right shoulder, while he was tied into a ponytail with a blue ribbon and a single curl that rested on the side of his face.

I took off the hood to show my face, violet-blue met violet-blue.

“Via?” he said in a small voice.

“Xander?” I said in the same tone.

We ran towards each other, not believing that our half was right in front of us. I trapped him in a hug that a mother does to her child. After our own died due to Yellow Fever, I had to take care of him all by myself. He still smelled of mint, ink, and parchment, now accompanied by coffee.

I flicked his forehead, “Ow! Via what was that for?!” he yelled at me, clearly in pain. “Where have you been! I received a letter back in ‘72 that the ship you were in sank and you died! I am your older sister and I demand you to tell me what happened.” I ignored his retort saying I was only older by 30 seconds.

He huffed and stomped his foot on the ground like the child he is, “Fine, I will tell you later.” I examined his face again, not liking the fact that his face was a few shades lighter than mine and the dark circles under his eyes.

“And pray tell, brother dearest,” I said in a cold, chilling voice. He knew that whenever I use this tone, he was done for, “Why is your face paler than usual and why does it look like you haven’t slept in days?”

He fidgeted under my stare and after a while, I got impatient, “Alexander George Hamilton!” said 22-year old stood up straighter at the commanding voice. “All right! I haven’t slept in weeks and not eat a lot in order to do the paperwork for His Excellency!”

I was furious, but also confused. “Hold on, the man who has the potato-like hair is George Washington?” Snorts and muffled laughter were heard from the soldiers, clearly not wanting to anger him. Speaking of him, I ran to him at a fast speed and flipped him over my shoulder. Lucky for him, we were on grass not pavement, and I dragged him by the leg to a nearby tent. I glared at any soldier who was in my way.

In the distance, I heard someone speak. “Should we…” trailed a man with blonde hair and a ridiculous helmet. “No, you should not, because once you make my sister angry, you are done for. But do not worry, she would just yell at him. I hope.” he added the last sentence in a hushed tone, but everyone heard.

Once we were inside, I did exactly what my brother said, yell at him. Once I was satisfied, we got out of the tent, and into the General’s office.

“I believe that you wanted to speak to me, Miss Hamilton?” he asked in a calm, but wary tone. “Yes, I want to be a spy and only you and your most trusted advisors can only know about this. I have already thought of a cover name; Denise Melody. Her background information is that her father and brothers are sick and in order to make money, she needs to become a maid. I will somehow turn my red locks black and speak with a Dutch accent. I will board a ship to England and be hired by the King. There I will write you letters about what I have learned.” He looked intrigued about my plan and asked for more details about it. In the end, he agreed.

But now, I need to force my younger, very stubborn brother to take more care of himself.

T H E G L O R Y 2022 || directed by Ahn Gil-ho

color palettes and the lovely aesthetics <3

Skaters and their love for YOI.

Happy Birthday, @neutronice !!!  https://il.ink/sayuriliu

Mari Woodhull, OC of Legume_Shadow from AO3

Historical Hetalia Week, day 1: Mistake

“This is all your fault”

“Shut up”

“The other will never let us live this down if they find out”

“I said shut up!”

The NA Brothers after Operation Cottage 

I always feel a bit bad about laughing at operation Cottage but…

These two share one brain cell and they both forgot it at home.

@historical-hetaliaweek​

Time Travel is my favourite trope and I think we need more fics where both Obi-Wan AND Qui-Gon time travel together because no matter when they get sent it's chaos. They're saving the galaxy and being physic flash-bangs to everyone around them.

like before Bandomeer?

The entire council is baffled to watch as Qui-Gon 'never taking a padawan again' Jinn has suddenly cut off his post-Xanatos depression tour to return to the temple and beeline to the creche with a frantic energy. His wild eyes immediately single out a fluffy, red-haired initiate.

"You." he exhales with a pointed finger, slightly ominous as he towers over the child. Said child starts vibrating with delight. "Me." he agrees, launching himself at the man. Qui-Gon drops to his knees with a thud that cannot be healthy. Obi-Wan's attempts to clamber into Qui-Gon's robes and maybe onto his shoulders is thwarted by the fact that Qui-Gon's massive hands are cupping Obi-Wan's tiny squishy cheeks. He stares at the initiate for a few minutes with an intensity that is starting to worry people.

Finally, "You're so small." Qui-Gon sounds like he might cry.

'What the fuck?' Plo Koon projects at Mace.

"I'm 9! That tends to be the case!" the child chirps back.

"You're nine." Oh. Ah. Qui-Gon's eyes are distinctively misty. He squishes the boy in a hug so hard he squeaks. Mace makes a series of gestures that imply the need for a head-scan. Depa obligingly drifts off towards the halls. Qui-Gon scoops the child up onto his hip and claims him as his padawan on the spot. The assorted council members and creche-masters burst into noise. Mace tells Depa to bring some space ibuprofen as well.

after Naboo?

Anakin is a little apprehensive of his place in both the order and Obi-Wan's life, but then one day Obi-Wan wakes up and is suddenly a lot less sad in the force?? In fact, if Anakin didn't know better he'd say he was almost giddy, but he's watched Obi-Wan try to pretend his world hasn't fallen apart for the past few months so it can't be that, right? And um, Miss Bant? He knows grief is a funny thing that affects people differently but he's pretty sure 'massive mood swing' and 'having full conversations with invisible people' is not...great? and you said to tell you if Obi-Wan got really weird in any way.

Anyway after a lot of medical exams, intense consultation with the archives, and a couple exorcisms, Anakin ends up being raised by his 'real' master and his ghost master. He is far more well adjusted emotionally and far less well adjusted for what counts as normal people behavior(not talking to thin air). When questioned on this, all he ever says is that he's talking to Qui-Gon. Isn't he...dead? Well, yes. Wait, he's a ghost? Ghosts are real? ...Well this ghost is real.

This starts a great number of existential crises among non-force sensitives and incredibly heated theological arguments amongst the Jedi. Whenever Obi-Wan is questioned on this, all he ever says is some variation of "the force got to know him for 5 seconds and kicked him back out." Mace backs him up on this even though that reasoning is technically blasphemous. Qui-Gon is having the time of his un-life. He's ascended to his final form, his sheer existence is a heresy, this is truly all he has ever aspired towards.

the Clone Wars?

The minute they get dropped back Qui-Gon immediately goes and haunts the shit out of Dooku. They have a signed terms of surrender and promise of info on the Sith Lord within the year. Only half of it is because Qui-Gon's giving Dooku complexes that are only perceptible to shrimp, the other half is because they now have a ghost spy that is not bound by the laws of physics nor spacetime.

Obi-Wan only nominally pays attention to this as he immediately goes and implements his 19 step seduction plan with Cody (he had to focus on something on Tatooine to pass the time). It fails. Spectacularly. Publicly. Ah right. Tatooine was not exactly the height of his sanity. Everyone in the GAR and temple is now riveted by High General and Councilor Obi-Wan Kenobi's attempts to go on a date with his Commander, who bats him away him like a particularly annoying stray and seems one bouquet of cactus away from committing mutiny. Anakin is worrying if it means his master knows about his secret marriage and this is some sort of really weird power play. (It is, but not in the way he thinks)

The next time Dooku goes after Obi-Wan, Qui-Gon spends a good few months appearing tear-stained at the edge of Dooku's perception and only communicating in terrible wails and discordant mutterings of 'padawan. my padawan. my little one.' 24/7.

"Wait, you're annoying Dooku into surrendering?"

"Oh no Anakin, we're crushing his psyche like a bug. :)"

yuri on ice + timeline (inspired by this)

Almost too late, but I wanted to draw something quick for vicmas! My boy...

someone recently commented on my France sketches and it got me wondering… why haven’t I drawn him properly with short hair yet?

well, this is the result. I hadn’t been able to make a clean artwork in a while so it was quite refreshing. I also wanted to draw a France with the proper WW2 uniform colors. As for his hair - it’s a headcanon of mine that he cut it shortly after the occupation, either symbolically or just out of necessity. Either way he’s still fabulous like that (and he knows it).

Another thing I like to imagine is that despite the catastrophic beginning of the war, France doesn’t become dispirited or pessimistic. He’s an old nation and though this is the first time his head has been so close to the water, he’s used to toughing it out. So I imagine him retaining his calm and being his usual suave self in the face of adversity.