spiral heads

Some live-action BATB headcanons (mostly about Lumiere and Plumette’s wedding because I’m a sap):

  • Prince/Beast is bi or pan (”…his parties with the most beautiful people,” “…and earn their love in return”).
  • Before the spell was broken, the members of the staff who were able to move throughout the castle would relay messages between Cadenza and Garderobe from time to time.
  • Lumiere and Plumette get engaged soon after they become human again. Lumiere had promised her it would happen once the curse was lifted, and sometimes talking about their possible future was comforting to them.
  • Lumiere makes Cogsworth his best man, mostly because he’s very organized, but also because it means he’ll have to give a toast and admit that Lumiere has good points.
  • Chip is the ring bearer.
  • Cadenza plays the processional music, and Garderobe sings for their first dance (okay I’m going by modern wedding customs, I don’t know if any of this is how they did it in 18th century France). 
  • Lumiere cries when he sees her in the dress.
  • So does Cogsworth.
  • Everyone’s crying or almost crying during the vows, mainly because they thought there would never be a chance for this to happen.
  • When the officiant says “You may now kiss the bride” he hasn’t even finished the sentence before Plumette grabs Lumiere’s face and kisses him.
  • The Prince insists on throwing them a huge reception in the ballroom and basically invites the entire town (LeFou goes with his new boyfriend, of course).
  • Plumette has a dance with Chip and he’s standing on her feet the whole time and it’s adorable.
  • Everyone keeps saying how Plumette is the most beautiful woman there (and let’s be real, she is). Lumiere can’t take his eyes off her and he keeps smiling because he’s so ridiculously in love with her and he can’t believe his luck.

Inspired by THIS POST about gay Disney Princesses. 


When the old beggar comes to the door, Addy knows better than to let her in. She doesn’t look at the rose or the woman too long; she shuts the door.

Some will call her arrogant or selfish, but what is she to do? No guards, parents in the capital (not, here, not here), and the knowledge that she is the damsel in all those fairy tales weighs heavily on her mind. Oh, little princess, far from home and alone, so alone.

The Enchantress (for they do not call her witch) makes sure that she stays that way.

Alone except for her wilting rose.

(She did not want it, would not take it, so she was bound to it. Such is the way of Princesses.)

———————————-

Addy used to have frightful bursts of temper. Her face would turn red, fat tears rolling down her cheeks, mouth screwed into an upside down kidney bean. Anything could set her off; a too tight corset, a walk ended too quickly, another toy sword taken away. She’d wail and scream, kick her feet and punch the air, tear and rend anything within arm’s reach.

The first time she has a fit in her new form, it’s after Mrs. Potts reads the King and Queen’s decision on her…condition. She’s to stay here, on the outskirts of their kingdom, until a Prince comes to release her from her spell. Alone until a different sort of bond is forced on her, until she is made to change from princess to beast to bride.

Addy know why they refuse to save her. It’s because she’s always been too big, too strong, too ill-tempered, too–

In her rage, Addy upends the tea tray, forgetting, forgetting, forgetting.

She is reminded when fine china falls to the hard ground, when it rattles, when it shatters, when it screams.

“No!” Addy falls to her knees next to her dishes– no, her friends and frantically rights them, apologies tumbling from her lips, eyes brimming with tears.

“Temper,” Mrs. Potts murmurs, more out of reflex than anything, looking obviously terrified. She hops from her side to her base, better able to control her new body than any other castle resident. Her lid is sitting askew and her eyes are wide (so wide) as they dart from one cup to another. “Daniel? Daniel!”

Addy cuts herself on broken porcelain and flinches. She–she’d killed him, she’d been so thoughtless, how could she? “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry–”

“I’m okay,” a little voice says. “I’m okay, Mom!”

 Addy sobs as she locates him under the silver platter, on his side, trapped. She throws the platter too hard, lodging it in the wall, and takes Daniel in her paws.  

“It’s okay, Princess Addy,” Daniel chirps at her. He’s a little older than her, just a few years, and he’s always trying to be strong. His eyes are wide (too wide), but he offers her a tremulous smile. “I’m okay.”

“Thank goodness,” Mrs. Potts says and her china clinks as she hops forward. 

Addy’s eyes lock on the horrible, huge chip in his rim. 

I did that.

She’s across the room before being aware of setting Daniel down, of standing, of leaping away.

“Princess,” Mrs. Potts says from her low, low position on the floor. “What–”

“Don’t call me that,” Addy grits out. Her huge body leans heavily against the door, making it groan, as she desperately tries to wrap her paw around the handle. She can’t stop looking at the chip, the proof of harm, the proof that something much worse can happen so easily. “Don’t call me– I’m not–I’m not the Princess. I’m the Beast.”

The door crashes open and she disappears.

————————————————

It’s weeks before the servants realize that she’s never going to answer to her name again. She no longer sleeps in her princess bed or attempts to wear her princess clothes. She wears pants scavenged from the servants’ quarters, tunics from her father’s closet, ties her mane back with twine instead of ornaments.

“Addy!” they call. “Princess Addy!”

The Beast doesn’t even know who that is.

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Birthday Blues // Jeff Atkins

A/N: Honestly, I wrote this at 1am. 

Named after: The fact that I mentioned readers birthday so much. That and I was listening to the blues.


It was a Saturday. It was the day of the championship game for baseball. But most importantly, it was your birthday.


You had let this small fact take a back seat in weeks leading up to the game, you didn’t want to stress Jeff out. Your boyfriend was already spending more time with Clay to get tutoring for two more classes just to make sure he’d play. He’d exercise in the early morning before school, go to baseball practice after, study and do homework with the smaller boy, and then watch his previous games until it was time to repeat.

It had become a routine, and Jeff normally got like this a few days before his games. You’d grown accustomed to it, you would plan to walk to school or ride with your next door neighbor Alex Standall, pack a few extra protein bars and Gatorade to leave in his locker, as well as massage him during his film.

He was…distant but it was okay because he always felt so guilty after, he’d pamper you for the next week.

However, what your boyfriend failed to let you know, was that for the championship, this routine of his was starting two weeks before you expected it. So when you found yourself arriving at school by 3rd period, after waiting 20 minutes for your boyfriend to show up you were more than angry.

But you pushed it aside, silently forgiving your baseball player. You knew Jeff loved the sport he played. For the most part, it was the only thing he felt he was incredible at. So you slowly adjusted to this behavior for the week, eating lunch by yourself because Jeff didn’t initially tell you he was going to the athletic trainer during your lunch period. Nodding as he asked you if you could find another ride home because practice was running late. Walking when you realized all your friends had already left.

It was fine, you knew it wasn’t intentional or malicious, he just really wanted the game to go well. Scouts would be looking at him. More importantly, you knew that once these weeks finished you’d have him all to yourself, starting on your birthday.

You walked through the bleachers wearing Jeff’s home jersey, 30 minutes before the game started. You saved seats for his parents who had already wished you a happy birthday, your parents who were there to support your boyfriend, and your friends who had helped you survive these past two weeks.

You made three posters all with different puns and cheesy jokes that you were sure Jeff would love,
 ’#1 on the field AND in my heart’
 'No that is not Derek Jeter, it’s Jeff Atkins’

And your personal favorite,
  ‘Atkins, Homerun counter:__’

You brought a sharpie with you to the game and by the end of it, you had edited that poster at least four times. You screamed so loud during the game you barely had any voice left when the team won.

The student section, along with yourself rushed the field and you watched as your boyfriend and his teammates poured water all over their coach. You smiled, more proud of Jeff than ever. Your two weeks of relationship hell were over and you were going to spend the rest of this Saturday night celebrating him and your birthday.

When you finally got the opportunity to get to Jeff, waiting for his parents and your parents to go first so they could leave, you hugged him as tightly as you could you pecked his lips before asking, “Now what champ?”

He smiled at the abbreviation. He let go holding out a finger signaling he’d get back to you. He left, jogging over to his teammates and a few reporters. You waited. Waited as the captains talked to the reporters who covered the game, waited as he greeted the college scout with a firm handshake, waited as the team filed out.

Jeff was the first one on that field and the last one to leave the dugout. He had all of his stuff in his baseball bag, slung on one shoulder while he wrapped the other arm around your waist.

“We’re going to Bryce’s!” He said smiling as you reached his car.

“W-what?” You asked trying to keep it together.

“Bryce, you know Bryce, he’s throwing a party for the win! You asked, ‘now what’ so that’s what!” He replied placing his stuff in his trunk.

You couldn’t lie, it fucking hurt. He forgot. He forgot your birthday of all days. You understand, it was the championship but the last thing you wanted to do was get drunk with a bunch of rowdy jocks. You and Jeff did that almost every weekend. Before you could say anything, Jeff opened the door for you, kissing your cheek.

“Jeff…” you started your voice nearly breaking. But when he turned to you, with the world in his eyes, ecstatic he had just won, you couldn’t bring yourself to ruin it. So you swallowed the lump in your throat and blinked back your tears as you forced a smile on your face.

“Could you please take me home? I’m not feeling too well.” You said, barely managing to make it through your request.

He nods, rushing back over to the driver’s seat. He grabs your hand, rubbing circles on your skin all the way to your house. His grip tightens as he pulls into your driveway and finally looks over at you.

You avoid his gaze and move to get out.

“So no party?” He asks you.

“No thanks, but go and have fun okay? I’ll see you tomorrow!”

He furrows his eyebrows placing another kiss on your hand before letting you go.

“Thanks, baby girl, I’ll see you tomorrow!”

And with that, he drives off. Once he’s out of sight you finally let the tears stream down your face like they had wanted to for the past two weeks.

You decided not to call anyone to make other plans, you would much rather sulk in your own pity. You had a mix of texts come in through the night that you ignored. Most of them from friends wishing you a happy birthday, and a few from a very drunk Jeff who, for the life of him, couldn’t manage to spell out ‘I love you’. That night you cried yourself to sleep, upset and alone trying to rationalize your boyfriend’s actions.


You woke up early the next morning, making yourself breakfast and planning out your day to make up for the previous. You could have fun by yourself. You ignored whatever Jeff texted you when you got ready, putting on some of your favorite clothes instead. Sorting through looking for your sweatshirt, you heard a knock on your door.

You threw on a t-shirt instead, yelling out 'come in’, as you started to put your hair into a bun.

“Hey, you feeling better? I have the nastiest hangover, so it’s fine if you’re not, we’ll be miserable together” Jeff started.

And you shook your head slightly at first, then you gradually became angrier. You couldn’t care less if Jeff had a hangover. Throughout his whole drunk escapade, it didn’t even occur to him that you were sitting at home, by yourself, on your birthday. He had treated you like shit for two weeks, he didn’t just get to waltz back into your life as though it never happened.

“Your parents let me in on their way out. You weren’t answering my texts so I just thought-” he stopped himself as he watched your expression change.

“What’s wrong?” He asked gently.

“What’s wrong Jeff? What’s wrong? Are you fucking kidding me?” You questioned, raising your voice slightly.

You didn’t plan on getting angry so fast, he just was so oblivious to everything it pissed you off, royally.

Jeff was taken aback. His mouth dropped slightly as he tried to figure out where he went wrong.

“FIRST. You didn’t give me a ride to school with no notice! I had to fucking walk! I was late to class and now I have detention next weekend so thanks!” You stood, now pacing around your room as Jeff took a seat on your bed.

“Baby-” he tried to interrupt.

“I’m not done” You interjected.

You were so upset you missed the completely shocked expression on Jeff’s face. Everything he did wrong in the past two weeks was flooding in all at once.

“Then! You made me eat by myself at lunch when you didn’t tell me you weren’t going to be there!”

“Baby girl-”

“Don’t you dare 'baby girl’ me! Then! You made me walk home! …IT’S AN HOUR WALK JEFF!”

He stood to meet you in all your anger, approaching you slowly.

“You basically ignored me, FOR TWO WEEKS! For fuck sake, Clay saw you more than I did!”

You couldn’t help it. Everything was spiraling in your head and pouring out of your mouth. When Jeff reached you, his hands that normally felt so comforting betrayed him. You wanted nothing more than to scream and yell until he left until he felt the way that you did.

“Y/N, I’m sorry, okay? Please calm down-” he said in the most soothing voice he could figure.

Jeff was scared, to say the least. He had never seen you this angry before.

“CALM. DOWN? YOU’RE NOT SERIOUS!” You screamed back at him pushing against his chest to create some distance between the two of you.

As your voice grew louder, the tears came rolling in again. When they fell down your cheeks Jeff had to fight the urge to wipe them. He felt guilty, he was the sole reason you were so worked up.

“THEN TO TOP IT ALL OFF JEFFREY? YOU FORGOT MY BIRTHDAY!”

Jeff could have sworn he felt his heart stop. He knew he had been forgetting something, he just didn’t know it was you. He couldn’t even stutter out a response, he just stood there taking you in.

“I made three fucking posters for you! And I was there for you! Through all this BULLSHIT! I waited after the game! When you did all your interviews, and you met with all the scouts, and you were fucking around with the boys! I let you do whatever the fuck you needed to! And you left me. On my birthday. FOR A FUCKING PARTY!”

You were sobbing at this point and your voice cracked as you screamed at him.

Jeff had tears at the brims of his eyes as well, he had no idea how much he hurt you in the past two weeks.

“A fucking party Jeff…god, you’re such an asshole.” You mumbled, wiping your tears frantically, hoping that they would stop flowing.

Jeff blinked back the tears his eyes before he approached you again. He stood this time, at least two feet away to give you your space. It was the distance that hurt him the most, normally he couldn’t take his hands off of you. Now, he had to watch his first love cry, because of him, and she was too upset to even let him wipe away her tears.

“I’m sorry” he began.

And before you could interrupt him he continued.

“I- I’m so sorry.” He tripped over his own apology as a few tears fell from his eyes. He wiped them quickly, he knew he wasn’t in the position to get emotional when he was the one who hurt you.

“I was such a dick…and I- I fucked up big time…I don’t even fucking deserve you…” he struggled to find the right words that would make this all go away, but unlike your usual insignificant fights, he knew there wasn’t any combination of words that would fix it.

“Lemme make it up to you” he pleaded.

You crossed your arms over each other. Furious and devastated all at once. You wanted him to stay with you for the rest of the day but you also wanted him to get the hell out of your room.

Jeff slowly closed the gap between you two, grabbing at your waist.

“Please. Y/N. Let me fix it.”

He stared at you, searching your eyes waiting for your answer.

“I’ll beg if I have to” he offered up with a sad smile.

You frowned avoiding his eyes, you and Jeff both knew his puppy dog eyes could get you to do anything.

And so Jeff got onto his knees, his hands still at your waist and you finally looked at him.

“Jeff, get up” you muttered.

“Just give me a chance to fix it.” He countered.

You nodded quickly if only to get him off the ground, and he smiled standing to his feet again. He embraced you in what felt like the tightest hug ever.

“I’m really sorry” he mumbled into your hair.

And when he pulled away he was leaving your room.

“Cancel all your plans today, I’ll be back in an hour, I promise this is going to be the best day of your life!” He rambled as he grabbed his keys from your bed.

“Jeff, I don’t want you to le-” you whined. This was the first time he was paying attention to you in a while.

“One hour. If I’m not back……dump me!” He called out as he left your room door.

You sat on your bed, hearing the rumble of his engine begin, and when the sound of his car left your ears you exhaled and leaned back onto your bed. Hopeful for what was in store.


Part 2

llordtourrettes  asked:

Hi! Your "fall of the heroes" arts are definitely the best ones !! Do you have any hc for them ?

Thank you very much! I’ve seen people tagging it as the villain AU, though I’m not sure if I’m going in that route, for everybody in 1-A, anyway! Some could be considered villains, yes, but there are others in the gray area and could probably be seen like a vigilante. I imagine it happening in a sorta dystopian universe wherein the they see the flaws of the hero system and at the same time they lose something or someone important in their lives.

As for the headcanons, I’m gonna post some for the characters that I have already drawn (because I haven’t thought about the last batches yet):

Deku: He witnessed the death of All Might, and has pushed himself too hard to become his successor to the point that he lost the hand that had inspired and helped others. The events broke his spirit down, and he has been wandering around Japan ever since. At rare occasions citizens see him leap from building to building, but when they try to track him they aren’t successful. No one really knows about his true whereabouts.
Uraraka: She was on the road to becoming one of the well-known, young heroes of the country when both her parents grew ill. The treatments needed caused her office to be in serious debt, and she never got any financial assistance from the Hero Association. When the villains invaded her prefecture one day, she was lured to their side, out of desperation and bitterness.
Iida: He was the last in 1-A to stay as a hero. He kept on asking himself what went wrong, why he couldn’t stop his classmates from succumbing to what they initially all fought against, why was he too powerless to stop them … All the questions spiraled in his head until he began to question his beliefs. What if he was actually wrong? What if Stain was really right, after all? Perhaps he was indeed, a fake hero …

Bakugou: Like Izuku, he saw All Might’s death. Again, Bakugou blamed himself because All Might protected him for the last time … and now … he was really gone. Since then, he went against the beliefs and principles of heroes when he started to exterminate villains instead of capturing them. He wears white so he stands out among the burnt skeletons of his enemies.
Todoroki: One day he heard reports that the villains were attacking the hospital where his mother stayed at. He rushed to the scene only to find his father, with the seemingly lifeless form of his mother in his arms. Villains immediately started surrounding Endeavor, and instead of helping him, Shouto, feeling numb, turned around and left. Soon, he learned that his mother survived the ordeal after all, and could’ve been in a better condition if he had only helped his father. Now both his parents were confined in the hospital. Feelings of guilt flooded him, and he punished himself by refusing to deactivate his Quirk. He left the city and has isolated himself in an abandoned, rural area where fluctuations of climates had been reported.
Kirishima: He had lost hope in the present Hero Association when they failed to give reinforcements many times he requested for them, causing him to witness the death of hundreds of citizens on several occasions; however, he did not know that the league of villains were to blame for it; they tampered with communication lines so they never came when he needed them. Since then, he had been bringing justice in the way he had known before he was a student.

Yaoyorozu: The Villain Alliance had been interested in her Quirk ever since her debut as a hero, and in order to lure her to their side, they manipulated her parents into venturing on an illegal business deal. So as not to have them arrested or worse, killed, she offered herself and her services instead. She had been very obedient to their orders–making weapons and involving herself in raids, trying to ignore the pained screams of their victims–hoping to win their trust, meet any of her classmates willing to help in her plan, and eventually turn the tides, despite all the odds …
Kaminari: He was swayed by the words of the villains that there was more to his power if he joined to their side. He was given a device on his head that supposedly prevents him from burning his brain and reverting to his “stupid” form.
Jirou: She was captured by the villains and was brainwashed into being a weapon. She had been known to wreck buildings, her body being injected with chemicals to intensify her heartbeat.

Aoyama: The villains promised him that he could shine brightly with them, and it was at their side that he felt he was accepted… He loves that they let him design his fabulously evil costume.
Ashido: Her spirit broke apart when she saw her friends fading into darkness, little by little. She joined the Villain alliance initially as a double agent, hoping to be closer to them and bring them back to the light. However, the alliance became suspicious about her loyalty and decided to isolate her in a toxic factory, telling her it was her “base of operations.” Due to months of having almost no contact with other people and having nothing left to do, she instead focused on strengthening her Quirk, toying and ingesting the chemicals around her. Indeed, it made her stronger, but it also had driven her mad in the process.
Sero: He was driven to a corner by the villains and was given a choice of death or to join their side… Fearing for his life, he chose the latter. Utilizing his Qurik, he is often involved in robberies.

First I fell for a junkie,
Then I fell for his ways.
He introduced me to the needle,
Had me spinning for days and days.

At first the high was amazing,
Until I realized i was on day four.
When paranoia, shakes, and cravings hit,
Bet I was straight laid out on the floor.

So when the junkie left for rehab,
My head instantly spiraled down.
And he told me, “you stay sober now,
You’ve got this, babe, don’t frown.”

I knew Her voice would be louder,
So much louder than any before.
But I told myself I could fight it still,
Even with arms all bruised and sore.

And now this junkie avoids her mirror,
Can’t even look in her own two eyes.
What has her pathetic life come to?
Revolving solely around that fucking high.

First I fell for a junkie,
Then I fell for his ways.
And not to my surprise I gathered,
There’s no escaping this deadly maze.

Because a junkie is a junkie,
And it doesn’t matter if we’re in love.
Because the only true love we’ve ever felt,
Came straight from this devil’s drug.

—  I guess one could say Me and T have a love/hate relationship (ael)
Think... Ink: Part 1

Okay, so I wrote a good chunk of this last night at a ridiculous time and worked on it a bit more a little bit ago and just got it to what that I thought was a good stopping point. So yeah. 

Also I need to say this next bit in bold so bear with me a sec.

Please understand, this is just me musing about stuff, and has no bearing on @shinyzango‘s stuff. Zango will decide what they want to do with Ink Henry all in good time. I just wanted to put my thoughts down in writing, and then this spawned out of it. 

Also go congratulate Zango for hitting 2k followers today! Because Zango is awesome and deserves all the nice messages! 


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Heh, A lot of allies to the humble sanctuary Clan have monarchic- or similar- ruling systems. Ambassadors must be so confused when they first arrive and find out that the closest thing to a ‘ruling family’ this place has are these goofballs.

anonymous asked:

Can you help a fellow INFJ to stop overthinking? I don't want this habit to ruin me and others

INFJ: Hi there! Okay, so I think it has come my time to shine :’)

An active mind is something great, but an overactive mind (as I am sure you know) is a pain in the ass. And if there is something worse than being with a high-strung person, is being the high-strung person. To start, understand that overthinking is not helping. If you are asking this, you probably have this step won (nice). The thing is that everytime you start wondering obssesively how something will turn out, you are not dealing with it in advance. What you are doing is killing your efficiency. You are not dealing with the things that are coming in your present with a 100% focus. It’s important that you learn: You got this. Really. You have the ability to handle the things that pop up. Don’t think about them more than you should. Just keep doing what you need to do each day.

You see, I used to overthink to a point where it ruined me. My health was terrible and my coping mechanisms to stop overthinking were making things worst fast. Right now I am not the most okayest person in the world, but I am a lot better. And you know, life is not hell, and that is always a plus. These tips I am gonna give you worked very well for me. Remember it might take a while to change the way your brain works. Be patient with yourself and keep trying.

The first thing I am gonna advise is taking a walk. I would choose 30 mins, but I know life is busy, so adapt as you will. Everyday you are gonna take a walk. I take it in the morning because it’s when I have a cleared mind and I can deal better with irrational thoughts. Don’t bring music or things that might distract you if you can. During that minutes, just lwt yourself think. All the thoughts that come, came the day before and probably will come. Deal with those slowly. Find which one was the first thought that got you obssesed.

For the rest of the day, any time you get an impractical thought, you are gonna save it for later, for when you take your walk. See, there is this little thing where if you wanna rest a tired body you rest, but if you wanna rest a tired mind you activate physically. A tired mind is harder to control and you wanna be able to have your thoughts under your will.

So you may say, “well, and how do I stop the thoughts??”.

When I get a thought (usually a bad one) that I can’t stop thinking about, I do one of the following (sometimes a few more than one):

- Visualize the thought as a spiral. And in your head, cut that spiral. Don’t let it continue.

- Close to this one, I order my brain to stop. I tend to interrupt my thought with a very clear “Stop. Now is not the time to think about this”

- Change what you are doing. Focusing your attention in something else (even if it is getting a glass of water) can help make your brain change its chip.

- Whenever you get a thought, try to come up to a counter-thought and to something cool you will do that day.

Saving Grace

​​​​​​pairing: lafayette x reader
words: 3000 (i know guys i’m so extra lmao)
warnings: blood, war, things of that nature, ending is literal crap because it’s 5 in the morning
summary: reader is a battlefield nurse who must take care of a wounded Laf, who becomes smitten with his savior.


You had always been different. It was just a fact.

When you were a young girl, only seven, you acquired a reputation with your classmates of being a tomboy. You weren’t interested in such things as clothes and looking pretty—in fact, you hated such ideals. Instead, you preferred to play with the boys in your school, searching for bugs and rocks in the scratched ground, hiking up your skirts in such an undignified manner that your highly proper mother would surely have fainted at the sight.

She was certainly upset when you enlisted to be a battlefield nurse. You had always been interested in medical topics and signed up nearly right after you heard. As soon as she found out, she came flying into the room, managing to look dignified even as her numerous skirts and petticoats flew out behind her in a bustling mass that reminded one of a ship at full sail.

“(Y/N), you have done many unwise things before, but this—” here she waved her hands about helplessly, hopelessly “—this tops them all. How could you, young lady? You could be killed! You could be traumatized or catch an illness and die! What were you thinking?” You rose, incensed.

“Mother,” you said, in a low, angry voice, “this is the only way I can help the Revolution. I can’t fight, I can’t run for office, and I cannot vote. I am hopeful that this will change one day, but I am not about to sit around at home and do nothing! At least this way I am able to help men who can make a difference by saving their lives and putting them back on the battlefield!” Your father had come in by now, drawn into the living room by the loud voices of you and your mother.

“What is going on?” he shouted over the two of you.

“Your daughter—” your mother spat at the same time you said, “Mother doesn't—”

“One at a time,” your father said, spreading his hands in a gesture that clearly meant slow down.

“Your daughter has enlisted to become a battlefield nurse,” your mother said angrily. “I have tried to warn her of the dangers of such a profession, but she refuses to listen. Dear, please tell her not to go.” You uncrossed your arms, gazing intently at your father’s face. You knew his abolitionist beliefs ran deep, causing him to support the ongoing rebellion. Doubt played over his face; he was clearly torn between his beliefs and love for you and the desire to please his wife. He opened his mouth, closed it, then opened it again.

“As disappointing as it will surely be to you, my dear,” he said, motioning to your mother, “I have to agree with (Y/N). She is able to help our country in this position and I believe it will be better for her than just sitting at home and revolving through the social circles.” Your mother’s face grew stormier still.

“We have no country! We belong to England! It is simply a passing phase, a small period of rebellion that will be subdued! And (Y/N) needs to become acquainted with the ins and outs of social life! It’s the only way to find her a suitable match and you know it!” she cried.

You sighed. This again. “Mother, I want to choose the man I marry. Love shouldn’t be forced. It should be mutual and founded on deep trust and respect. I’m not interested in flirting and gossip. When the right man comes along, I’ll just—well, I’ll know it.” You and your father both knew what came next—the long spiel about how your parents’ marriage had been arranged and how they were just as happy as any natural couple.

He dragged your mother out of the room with a soft “Let’s go, dear,” and a pitying look that you knew meant he would try to talk some sense into her. He must have been somewhat successful, for you were off to training in a matter of days.

There were twenty other young women in the class with you, which was considered a high number, and you were put under the charge of the local doctor, who was known to be surly at the best of times. However, your talent became clear and you soon left everyone behind in terms of progress. He couldn’t help but admire your skill, and he gave you many kind, if rather gruff and grudging, compliments.

After three weeks of training, it was clear that you needed to be sent out to the lines as soon as possible. Someone with your level of skill couldn’t be left behind; you were needed. You were told that you would be sent out to a battlefield to serve Continental troops under General George Washington. He was famous everywhere, and you were always swamped with questions at social events.

The ride to the camp was somewhat lacking in comfort; you rode in a carriage drawn by a horse who seemed bent on running the vehicle across every single rut and stone lying in the street. However, you emerged from the two-hour ride all in one piece, if a battered and bruised one. You were greeted by a young soldier who looked to be about twenty years of age. He snapped a crisp salute.

“Miss (Y/N), ma'am?”

“Yes, that’s me. The new nurse.”

“I am Sergeant Locke. I have been ordered to show you to your quarters. Doctor Scott will show you everything you will need to know tomorrow.” There was something odd about the man—he wasn’t even in a proper uniform, but he exuded all the cocky confidence of a British officer. It wasn’t exactly a negative thing, it just seemed odd and out-of-place in such a situation.

“Thank you, Sergeant.” He held out a hand for your luggage and marched smartly to a small tent towards the center of the camp.

“This one’s yours, ma'am,” he said, placing your suitcase on a small table made of dark wood in one corner of the tent. “Try to sleep. It may be the only rest you get for who knows how long.” He left on this cheery note.

You dropped into the single straight-backed chair, exhausted, and looked around the bleak interior of the tent that was now yours. You didn’t know what the next day, week, month, however long, held for you. Death and suffering beyond imagining would be manifested to you, and you knew that it would shape you for the rest of your life. Of course, you didn’t realize just how important your service would end up being. You were just concerned with sleep; you needed it after that horrendous ride. Despite your new surroundings and forebodings of the following day, it came quickly.

——-

Fortunately, Doctor Scott was the nicest man you could ever hope to work for. He was also unexpectedly old. You had imagined a man in his mid-thirties, maybe, but he was around sixty. His hair stood up around his face in a round, white shock, and his clear blue eyes were framed by small rimmed glasses. However, despite his age, his spotted hands were gentle and skilled. You liked him at once, and he couldn’t help but feel the same. You were a young, pretty woman who was clearly passionate about what you were doing. No matter how bad an injury was, you always kept your wits about you and worked calmly in life-or-death situations. Hundreds of lives were saved because of your work. You did so well that General Washington himself commended you on your successful treatments. Everything was going perfectly—that is, until one day, a certain patient came to the medical tent and shattered life as you knew it into shards.

The Marquis de Lafayette.

——

“Critical patient coming! Miss (Y/N), you’re needed!” a minor doctor yelled. Two soldiers came rushing in, stepping quickly but carefully, bearing a stretcher between them. They hoisted it up onto the table and released their grip. You wiped your hands on a towel and hurried over to check the wounded man.

Needless to say, you were blown away.

He he was badly battered and bloodied, but you could see that underneath the caked dirt and dried blood, he was undeniably attractive. His skin was a rich brown color, a nearly perfect match of the coffee you made for your father every morning at home. His hair spiraled from his head in thick corkscrew curls, and his defined jawline was dotted with stubble. His large mouth opened slightly to reveal very white teeth, and his eyes were closed and drawn tight with pain, despite his unconscious state.

You took this all in, then shook your head. “What has happened to this man?” you asked hurriedly.

“Shot in the leg, he was, marm,” answered one soldier. “Blood everywhere, there was. Passed out about a minute after bein’ wounded, I’d say. Shot mighta severed somethin’ important.”

“Thank you,” you said, your mind working quickly. “Please step outside for the time being. I need all the room I can get.” They did as you said, and you got to work, lifting up the cloth covering his lower body.

The wound was much worse than you expected. His entire leg was stained with the blood from the gaping hole in his lower thigh. You quickly tore off part of his pants, trying to subdue the rising color in your cheeks. He made a small, soft groan of pain, and you saw his eyes slowly, and with no small effort, blink open.

Chocolate. His eyes were rich, dark chocolate.

——-

Blurred shapes. A light-colored streak directly in front of him. After the shades came the pain. Then the darkness, the nothingness. But then, too soon, the light was back. No, no, let me go back, he thought. The darkness is better. No pain there. But the light refused to go, would not stop coming at him, growing until he was able to move and was hit with waves of pain. He groaned, the quiet sound too small to express the hurt. Then his eyes opened, two slits of the world revealed.

And what saw made his eyes widen immediately. He didn’t even feel the pain for a moment. He saw what could only be described as an angel.

Her hair was what he saw first. Shiny and soft-looking, it was tied back. Strands of it escaped from its confinement, reaching down to frame her face like a crown. He smiled internally. Your halo is tattered.

The face her hair framed was the most beautiful thing he’d ever witnessed. The soft curves of her cheek, her eyelashes, the more angular lines of her nose, her upper lip. I have never known beauty before now, he thought. Now I have found it.

He sank into the darkness again, but this time, it had to pull at him more insistentently.

——

He had stared straight into your eyes for what seemed forever, then wandered around your face, his mouth parting slightly as if to say something. Then he went under again, and you shook yourself. Get to work, you thought. This man could be dying.

——

He made it through the night. That was the first sign toward a good recovery. A few of his veins had been severed, but you were able to tie up the loose ends. However, his lower leg remained pasty and colorless. You had your doubts about whether or not he would ever regain the use of his leg. The word amputation even crossed your mind a few times. Although you were most worried about the fact that he was still unconscious. He hadn’t felt a thing as you were touching his wound, and that concerned you. However, you decided to clean off some of the dirt and dried blood that caked his face.

You made your way over to his bedside with a bowl of cool water and a cloth and began softly wiping off the grime.

This time, his eyes fluttered open to meet yours, and you were shocked again by the concentration of the color, the intensity of the pure pools of brown. He croaked out something unintelligible, and you leaned closer, furrowing your brow. He tried again, but couldn’t speak. However, you could tell that his mouth was forming the word “water.” Working quickly, you filled a cup with fresh water from a pitcher and held it up to his mouth. He drank with some difficulty, then sank back onto the pillows, exhausted. You looked concernedly at him. His eyes found their way to your face again, and you couldn’t stop the blush staining your cheeks no matter how hard you tried.

“Your name…What’s your name?” he asked, hoarsely.

“(Y/N),” you told him. “How are you feeling?”

“Like I’ve been shot,” he responded, the corners of his mouth twitching up.

You listened to his voice. There was a heavy lilt to his voice; his words were laced with a rich, lovely accent. “Are you—French?” you asked him.

“Oui, mademoiselle. I am Marie-Joseph Paul Yves Roch Gilbert du Motier de Lafayette, Marquis de Lafayette. But those who know me call me Lafayette. It is a sort of a—how you say—nickname.” Your eyes widened. This man was one of the most important men in the Continental Army. You felt even more of a duty to get him back up and fighting.

“And, mademoiselle, I must say that I have seen wonders great and small, but none so stunning as you.” Your eyes widened at the unexpected compliment.

“I’m sure I don’t know what you mean. I am considered quite…plain at home. Ordinary,” you told him.

“In all of my native France, there has never been a fleur so magnifique.”

You understood enough French to know what he was saying. Feeling suddenly flustered and awkward, you excused yourself. “I…I must be going. Please tell me if you need anything.” He nodded and lay back down.

“Thank you,” he said.

——

However hard you tried, you couldn’t get the Frenchman out of your head. His words swirled through your mind, bringing a smile to your face every time. You were required to administer to him every day, and you savored the time you spent with him. He told you stories about France and you told him about your family, how your mother wanted to arrange every aspect of your life and how you wanted to be free, independent, able to make your own choices. And each time you looked into those chocolate eyes and softly wiped down his forehead and heard his lovely accent, you couldn’t help but fall more in love. Despite his words the first time you spoke, you couldn’t help but feel that he didn’t feel the same. He was an important figure in the newborn American cause, a famous soldier and diplomat. You were just you. The everyday battlefield nurse; nothing special. However, you didn’t see his eyes following you when you were busy around the tent, humming to yourself and straightening up anything that needed it. He saw your instinctive ability to please without trying, to brighten the day of every soldier you cared for. The look in his eyes as he gazed at you would have made you melt, but you were busy and never once thought that he could love you back.

Even General Washington noted how highly he spoke of you when he came to check on your patient.

“Keep treating him well, (Y/N),” he would tell you.

“Yes, sir,” would be your reply.

It wasn’t until he was leaving the medical tent that you realized how much he really meant to you.

You walked into the tent, then stopped short. His bed was empty, unoccupied. You ran out to the door of the tent, and saw his form walking away, steadying himself with a large stick when needed.

“Mister Lafayette!” you called after him.

“Ah, Miss (Y/N),” he responded.

“Where—where are you going?” you asked, anxiously.

“Why, haven’t you heard? I’ve been cleared. You have done your job well,” he told you, grinning his wide smile that never failed to make you go weak.

“Oh,” was all you could say.

“What, does the lovely nurse miss me already?” he asked, teasing in his voice.

“I—I didn’t think you’d leave so soon,” you told him. You had never felt weaker, more powerless in your entire life. “I won’t see you again.”

“My dear lady,” he said, stepping closer to you. “I practically have free range of this camp. I will always find you. Besides, you mean too much to me. I could never leave you behind.” And with that, almost before you knew it, his mouth was on yours and the rest of the world vanished. His lips were finally, finally yours.

You made a small sound and he pulled you impossibly closer to him, his arm snaking around the small of your back, its strength evident. Your hand tentatively reached up to do what you had wanted to do forever, to run your fingers through his mass of ebony corkscrew curls. And it felt so right that you didn’t even think of letting go, of stopping, even when a voice screamed out,

“Good God!”

Sergeant Locke was scandalized.

Head canon time! I know this is probably already obvious from most of my noodle drawings but Noodle scarves are an incredibly common occurrence. Spiral Dragons are raised to seek out a singular “Most Important Dragon" also know to Spirals as a Napping Buddy. It can be considered an honor to become a Spirals nap buddy because it means that they trust them with their life and more.

This species-wide trend came about when the very first Spiral Dragons had been created by their Deity-Father, the Windsinger. As most of the young species fanned out across the world, following their inherent wanderlust, they stumbled into more and more danger- what with them being small and prone to passing out with barely a moments notice. So then these proto-noodles found larger dragons with a steadier sleep pattern to ride upon and travel with. As the First of their kind had offspring, and their offspring had offspring, and so on, it was passed down until it became tradition among the species. Even instinctual, some might argue, as even some Spirals not necessarily taught to will seek out a trusted life-long partner to coil around. Hatchlings of mixed parents will naturally gravitate to coiling around their bigger siblings.

Even the Windsinger himself has adopted this trend. Dragons blessed to be near their gods find it an rather common sight for the Windsinger to be tangled around their patron deity- whether they actually enjoy the physical contact or not- talking their ear off.

All of my Spirals Have Napping Buddies except Aether and Aura, who rarely leave their humble shrine now-a-days and so usually hover around the stones and bamboo structures that decorate the shrine. I guess it could be considered their Napping Buddy but Spirals don’t really give that title to inanimate objects or places, only to living, moving beings. If they were to ever travel again they would probably pick one from the clan to serve as their protector.

anonymous asked:

Hiiii! My friend and I really love your writing of Sonamy and she had this concept that she really wanted you to write: Concept: Eggman, in an attempt to ruin Sonic, invents literal nightmare fuel that slowly breaks down Sonic's ego and makes him feel powerless and afraid to sleep. He first tests this on Amy and after that, he tests it on the rest of the team...

I LOOOOVEEEE request like this!!! :DDD Thank you so much!!! It’s a plot, it’s depth, and it’s so cute~<3

Tell your friend she’s a mini-genius!!! :Db And thank you both for supporting me and my stories! Means a lot :’3

I hope I can do her idea justice, precious anon!

(x)

Prompt:

Eggman was using a drill-bot to carve it’s way into the deepest, darkest cave imaginable. All the way out in the middle of nowhere, Eggman peered inside the drilled, crumbled rock.

Only his glasses shone in that pitch darkness, as then his smiling teeth as he saw the object he desired, glowing with whisps of purple light, not like the aliens, but darker… more corrupted entities.

Back at his lab, he snorted, giggled, and squawked laughters as he pushed and pressed buttons like his fingers were dancers.

“At last! I’ve got it! I think I’ve got the code to trigger their power and centralize it into one … dream…” he rubbed his hands together, “Huhuhu… with these ‘nightmares’ I’ll have Sonic losing all hope! He’ll believe he’s a good-for-nothing! And I’ll be the emperor of the eggman empire in no time!~” he jumped to turn around and click his heels together, rushing over to the cylinder, clear tube that held the destructive creatures. They’re mouths opened to whispy daggers for teeth, and their purple, smokey bodies blinked with glares.

“There, there… my little evil critters~” he tapped his fingers to the glass, making them freak out and shake their hands, wanting to attack but returning to the urn which they were trapped inside.

“Hehehe~ Hohoho!!!” He billowed another loud laugh as he leaned his back into an arch in his joy.

But within that laughter, he realized something. “ho, ho?” he blinked his eyes, motioning his neck down. “But what if my test run doesn’t work? I’ll need to test my hypothesis on directing these little balls of terror before I actually unleash them on Sonic’s team! Hmm..” he rubbed his chin, thinking…

He suddenly smirked, turning to his computer.

“…Wasn’t Amy Rose tracking Sonic just a moment ago?”

Amy waddled through the forest, huffing and puffing in her weariness, tapping each tree she passed with the palm of her hand, as if checking to make sure she had stable support if she ever needed it.

She finally stood up straight, exhausted from a long day, and leaned her head back. “Ugh.. He’s traveled too far this time.” She moaned, before lowering her head with a heavy sigh. “And I was really hoping to spend time with him today…” she pouted, looking truly disappointed, but not that upset as she was used to sometimes failing on her ventures to find Sonic.

“He’s a tricky one.” she mused, picturing him dashing over large fields, defeating robots, and maybe even taking a second to stop and smile at a passing thought of her.

“Ha~~~” she sighed, melting at the idea of Sonic taking a second to think of her for a change.

Eggman positioned his gun perfectly, focusing the nightmartic spirits where he wanted their power concentrated.

“Eat her dreams alive, boys… woo-hohohho!” he laughed, and fired down once the gun rocked it’s way to have her in the center of it’s target. “Fire!”

Eggman’s gun sprung the spirit’s power, a misty purple smoke, straight through the atmosphere as it hit her in the back of her head, and spiraled down her body.

Amy suddenly felt a wave of sleepiness hit her upside the head, and all of a sudden, a strange aroma was pulling her to sit down… to rest… to take it easy…

“Wha-..what..?” she knew this wasn’t right, as she slowly came to her knees, and started to lay down. “H…Help…” she lightly rested her head down, as her whole body became too heavy to move, and too weak to stand…

There were puzzles under her feet, and as she looked down, she noticed some were glowing a bright, see-through gold.

“Amy…”

Amy looked up, before smiling happily towards Sonic, a little ways away on the same puzzle-piece floor she was on.

“Sonic!” Her voice echo’d in the empty space.

He looked upset, turning away from her. “You have to stop this mess.”

“…Ah… Mess?” she was confused, but she held her hands back, her feet paused from rushing towards him.

She had never seen such a shallow expression on his face before…

“I don’t want you always trying to find me! To hog my attention away from the world!” he swiped his hand out, looking more and more frustrated, as she stepped a foot back.

“…A-..Attention..?” She held her fists up to her chest, not sure what he was saying.

The puzzle-piece below her suddenly fell, as her foot almost fell through the crack.

She gasped as she pulled it up, looking down at the puzzle piece, and studying how it could have fallen…

As her eyes scanned, Sonic’s voice once again arose, this time much harsher and crueler than even she thought possible to imagine.

“This is it, Amy! I’m tried of letting you get away with what you want!”

“What I… want?” she turned around, her eyes shaking at his words.

“Sonic…” she could feel her heart breaking, her lips trembling as tears almost threatened her.

Around her, puzzle pieces on the floor started falling, strikes of lightning taking some of them out.

“I can’t stand it, Amy! I can’t stand you!” Sonic bit down on the word, glaring as he lunged himself forward.

“I WISH YOU WOULD JUST DISAPPEAR!”

As he threw his arm out, Amy felt the ground beneath her break and dip down, the puzzle pieces falling rapidly as she fell with them, reaching up for his cold, unfeeling expression as he watched her fall.

“Sonic…” her eyes widened, gripping her hands before forcing them apart and reaching up for him. “NOOO!!!!”

She disappeared into the darkness, hovering in the air.

“I don’t want to be alone… I don’t… I …” She gripped herself into a tight curl, but not fully a ball, as her hair and dress rippled in the mist of the empty space.

There was nothing now.

No sound but her own desperate cries.

Tears floated in the space around her.

“I… I don’t want to die without knowing…. knowing what it’s like… I don’t want to be alone… I don’t want to die alone!!!”

She threw her head up, screaming.

“SOOOONNNIICCCC!!!!”

The Sonic above, turned his head away, walking away from the surface.

Once absent from her sight, his face suddenly morphed to the snickering of the nightmaric spirit, chuckling with it’s jagged, spiked teeth; Sonic’s body myistifying into a purple smokey being.

—-

“Excellent!” Eggman jumped up from his seat, watching the activity of her vital signs and pulses, mental strain and brainwaves, the like; determining right then and there that his experiment was a success!

“Now, then! To the others!”

He pushed some buttons, as the gun flung around and shot the remaining nightmaric spirits to the different locations he punched in.

He twirled around with the gun, doing a little silly dance before looking back at his creation. “Tonight! Eggman industries presents a spectacular, dream-like experience you’ve NEVER dared to have before! WHOHOHOH!” as he laughed, the nightmaric spirits all gathered together in the tube, seeming to scheme, before turning to Eggman, and laughing creepishly towards him…

Sonic turned in his sleep, as did Tails and Knuckles, as each one had a horrific nightmare of their deepest, darkest fears.

Sonic was engulfed in water, unable to do anything, and for some reason, still able to breathe.

“Noo!” he cried out, trying to move upward, but only sinking as Amy and his friends were slashed through, shadowy silhouettes showing their last moments of life, and even Amy reaching down in the water to him, before red filled the water, dying it as it floated past him like curved paint in an oil canvas, swarming his being.

Powerless, Sonic watched the red surround him, polluting the water and gripping his throat.

He struggled to breathe now.

“N.. nmm!” he gripped his throat, his cheeks puffing up to try and remain with oxygen.

His arms flailed through the water, as suddenly he was pulled down into a dark abyss, his friend’s silhouettes being thrown into the water… Metal Sonic’s shadow… turning to stare down at him from a distance… at the surface.

Then, it shifted, turning into a nightmaric spirit’s face, and cackled as Sonic’s feet were limp, and weren’t able to kick him towards the surface of the water…

He closed his eyes, feeling life drain from him.

He was forced to be pulled under the water’s current…

Tails was trapped in a small cube, as he pounded on it and cried out to let him out, his X-Tornado turning on him and firing, causing lightning to spring out from it’s guns and attack the cube.

Tails threw up his arms, crying out as his mouth hung in utter fright.

He ducked down, unable to avoid as the X-Tornado went back up into the thunderstorm, and then spiraled down to let out a fresh new patch of lightning down upon his trapped self.

“Stop it!!!” Tails shouted out, as suddenly he heard Sonic’s piercing cry, and looked up.

“No!” Tails banged on the cube, “Sonic!”

Sonic,… Amy… Knuckles… they were all being struck by Lightning, and falling down, rising up as zombie like expressions on their faces, and walking towards him.

“You couldn’t help us, Tails…” Amy’s faint voice barely made it to his ears.

His eyes shook, scooting away from that side of the cube. “No…”

“You’re useless to me, Tails…” Sonic’s body kept hobbling towards the cube, his head going limp.

Tails shook in utter terror.

“You’re still a no one… not a friend of ours.” Knuckles’s arms stretched forward. “Now we’ll take you out… so the lightning can kill you too.”

They all piled the box.

“No…Stop… please…! I’m sorry! I’m sorry I wasn’t good enough! I’m sorry!!!”

The three nightmartic spirits chuckled, their faces shifting as Tails threw his hands over his head, his tails also encircling him in his great fear.

Knuckles struggled to try and keep his new family safe, but with each robot army that came, he turned to suddenly see them swiped down, out of existence, turning to nothing more than dust.

“Ah!” he rushed to them, gripping the dirt. “The last echidnas…” he was alone again, before looking up and seeing the robots break the Master Emerald, turning it into small fragments that they crushed to utter oblivion…

Their sparkling powder floated by him, as his eyes widened and they stung his open eyes.

“NOOO!!!”

Angel Island came crashing down, the robots self-destructing as suddenly the Island bent into itself, cracking and splitting, till lost in the sea…

Knuckles smashed the earth beneath him, before his shoulders bounced in his tears, and he laid down before the crashing sea…

“No…Rouge… Sonic… My friends… My family… The Master Emerald… I’ve failed them.. I’ve failed them all…”

Behind him, the robots faces turned to nightmaric spirits, laughing…

“WHHOHOHOHHO! BRILLIANT!” Eggman danced around in his lab, even going disco-funky with his actions. “Now, to take over the world!” He stuck a finger up, posing, before typing more coordinates.

But by this time… he hadn’t realized the Nightmares were growing with the dread and fear that came from their hosts… and they’re being morphed into Sonic, Amy, Tails, and Knuckles.

The remaining nightmare spirits laughed in their usual way, before breaking the cylinder tube… and going for Eggman.

“W-what?” he saw the gun stop firing, and turned around.

“No… no,… NOO!!” Eggman threw his hands up, as they chuckled and swarmed his being in their mist, knocking him out and diving into his dreams… their laughter never ceasing…

Sonic woke up in a cold sweat, blinking hard and breathing irregularly.

He touched his chest… no water.

Just the cold of the wind.

His eyes were heavy, but he shook his head, getting up.

“That was no dream…” Sonic concluded, and turned to look out away from him.

He heard someone shouting his name…

Suddenly, the sound became more clear as he gained control over his senses again…

“Amy!!!” he charged, bolting himself through the long distance to find where the echo was coming from.

It disturbed him, seeing he was awake, but her voice was bouncing off from everywhere.

The mountains didn’t help.

The valleys were worst.

He finally found her, collapsed under a tree, screaming out with tears pouring down her face.

“Tails! Knuckles! Someone help me!!!” she cried in her sleep, talking outloud.

“Hang on, Amy! Wake up! Snap out of it!” Sonic knelt down and shook her, before her eyes sprung up, and she fought him slightly away.

“Don’t hurt me! Don’t hurt me!”

Sonic, startled by the response, immediately pulled his hands away from her, backing away.

“Amy… it’s me… It’s Sonic..” he took a gentler tone, his eyes bending back as he worried his shaking had startled her to the point of possibly hurting her.

“Amy… You’re alright. It was just a dream.”

She breathed hard, gripping herself, looking around.

“It’s… it’s dark.”

He saw she was getting her senses back, and bent down again beside her, offering her his arms. “It’s cold too.”

She gripped him with a death-hold of pure, unfathomable terror.

She clung to him like her source of life, breathing rapidly off measure, and having her heartbeat influence his own rapidly beating one.

“You’re alright, Amy. I don’t know what’s going on. But I’m worried about Tails and the others.” He gently held her, before feeling her tremble and lightly moving his hand to her head, stroking it to try and still her.

“You’re alright. I’m here… Whatever that was… Whatever thing possessed us… I won’t let it get away with this.”

He found some relief in having her around… at least he knew he wasn’t dreaming anymore either.

She nodded, finally calming down to a regular breath, before wiping her eyes and finally letting him go.

“My dream… While I was sinking into the dark… I heard Tails, and Knuckles laughing too. Everyone was laughing.”

“Mine too.” Sonic could only recall the deformed image of Metal Sonic, his eyes glowing… his face turning to a jagged grin…

He looked away from her a moment, considering the possibility… “Maybe we were all trapped under the same dreams…”

“Why do you say that?” Amy looked more directly to him, confused.

“Because I was sinking too.”

Amy let out a pity groan, lightly, as if feeling empathy for him.

“I’m fine.” He lied, patted her head again, trying more to sooth her than himself.

“We… we need to stick together. To find the others.” He wouldn’t admit it, but he didn’t want to leave her side. Fear still gripped him. He wasn’t letting her out of his sights.

Tails and Knuckles were both awakened, and the only explanation to the increased power source that night, from Tails’s readings, were coming from Eggman’s base.

“I didn’t know he had a base way out here.” Sonic saw the robots smashed against the side of the doors… the doors wide open… the halls showing wired ripped robots…

“Something came in.” Knuckles tightened his fists, getting ready…

“No…” Sonic stopped walking, turning seriously with a knowing look towards the broken cylinder. “Something got out.”

Eggman groaned.

The four all turned to him, laying down, up against his control station.

“I don’t want to be alone.. without a cause, please! Let me destroy you a little longer! I promise! I’ll be better! Don’t go! Don’t leave me without a purpose!!!”

He tossed his head desperately, before Amy walked over, taking her hammer out.

“Amy.” Sonic cautioned, worried what she would do with him.

She saw his arm extended, and nodded, “I’m just waking him up.” she answered over her shoulder, looking back to him. “No one deserves the nightmares we’ve all endured…”

No one disputed her.

Amy whacked Eggman on the head, light enough that it wasn’t painful, but still enough to snap him out of it.

He woke up, flinching, sweat trailing down his bald forehead.

“Wha..where… where am I?”

“Alive.” Sonic almost spoke through his teeth. “Now… tell us where they are?”

“You’re not good enough.”

The team turned around, seeing the nightmaric spirits, all morphed into their figures, even an Eggman one, raising their heads with smirks.

You’re pathetic!” The Tails spirit stated, right after the Sonic one spoke.

Pitiful.” The Amy spirit spat out.

Worth less than dirt!” The Eggman spirit swished a ghostly hand out, purple mist trailing it’s action.

The five stood tall,.. there was a moment of silence… as more hurtful and piercing insults stung at their pride and their hearts.

“…Sonic.” Eggman dipped his head down, but clearly addressing him. “I wouldn’t normally say this… but… circumstances as they are-”

“We’ll fight them.” Sonic spoke carefully, but quickly.

He nodded his head, “Together.”

Eggman turned to him, seeing the forgiveness and nodded, turning back to the nightmare spirits.

“That urn in my large, broken flask is the only thing that can trap them.”

“We have to conquer our fears then.” Amy threw her arm back, her hammer positioned and ready to strike as she bent her knees. Ready.

“We have to stand together.” Tails also prepared himself. Ready.

“I may be able to forgive Eggman… but not you creeps!” Knuckles bashed his fists together, shouting loudly his war cry. Ready.

Sonic… was not ready.

He clenched his fist, as Amy could see.

His nightmaric spirit tilted his head, smirking as it narrowed it’s eyes.

“…Sonic.” Amy gently put her hand to his.

He twitched his head up, looking to her.

He was surprised at first, but nodded in understanding.

He wasn’t going to fail his friends.

He wasn’t going to be useless.

He was going to fight.

And he was going to win!

His friends would be just fine.

“Ready!” Sonic called to them, looking fierce with a renewed, confident smile.

“READY!” They all charged, as Eggman looked around, and sprang up to follow after them, swinging a fist to his nightmaric spirit.

“AHHH!!!” he went right through him, as the other spirit laughed, hitting him down.

“Grr.. Oh, I get it.” Eggman got back up. “I’m worth twice as many evil villains as you!” He threw his fist again.

The spirit looked confused, startled into freezing still, as the fist made it disappear, and it’s purple mist came back into the urn.

“Heheh~” Eggman boasted, blowing on his fist to get the remaining purple trail off of it.

Sonic spin dashed, “I’m the hero of my own story!” the other Sonic vanished in a similar manner, returning to the urn.

Sonic struck a pose, his hand flared up as he landed and uncurled, smiling his signature cocky grin.

“I’m not worthless, I’m ten times smarter than you!” Tails threw a wrench into the spirit, as it trailed back into the urn.

“I’m not alone!!” Knuckles whammed into his spirit, “My duty isn’t over yet!” as it returned to the urn.

“I’m… I’m…” Amy was still under the nightmares influence, as it waited, before knocking her down in impatience.

“Offph!”

“Amy!”

The team gathered around her, even Eggman, helping her up.

She looked around her, seeing her friends right by her side.

She turned to the spirit, eyes fixed in her resolve.

“I’m… Strong.”

She took out the spirit as it returned to the urn.

The urn was placed back in the cave, sealed up by Eggman.

He crossed his heart in a gesture to Sonic and his friends, showing he wouldn’t go near that cave ever again…

(I tried to keep it canon, what do you think? :) )

Coach

(AO3 here)

Eric Bittle has only ever called his father “dad" a handful of times, mostly when he was very small; otherwise, he’s always been Coach.

It wasn’t until he was older that Eric noticed that it had created a distance between them, and by then, it felt too late to change.

Growing up, everyone else always referred to his dad as Coach, it’s just what you did in small towns in the South; your title becomes your identity in a lot of ways, and so, Eric joined the cashier at the grocery store, the teller at the bank, even his momma, in calling the man “Coach".

When he tried to please his daddy by joining his football team, it wasn’t hard to keep from slipping up and saying “Yes, daddy,” instead of “Got it, Coach,”which helped him with the other boys marginally, but didn’t keep him safe off the field. Or on it.

When he left the team, with his momma’s full support and a disappointed frown from his father, calling the man Coach helped him feel less like a disappointment. After the double insult of failing at football and showing considerable talent and passion for figure skating, it was a welcome barrier. The whispers and raised eyebrows that made Eric shake and sweat, and kept him up at night anxiously crying into his pillow didn’t hurt as much when it was Coach grumbling about them instead of Daddy.

But somehow, the idea of coming out to Coach? That was terrifying. Eric would give anything to be able to come out to his momma and daddy, but he’s not sure that that’s an option any more.

Having Jack meet his parents after they’re together, after they’ve navigated the difficult landscape of long distance relationship and necessarily, if temporarily, closeted one, is both exhilarating and the scariest thing he’s ever done.

Hearing Coach gush over Jack’s career and how proud his father must be of him is like a slap in the face, and Eric feels something painful clench in his belly.

Then he feels Jack’s leg press against his under the table, a warm, solid, reassuring line, like Jack knew exactly what was spiraling through his head. Jack’s fingers flutter over the back of Eric’s hand, flexed under the guise of reaching for his glass of water, and it settles the ache in Eric’s heart enough that he can smile through the rest of dinner.

Later, he’ll talk to Jack, he’ll start working on the speech he’s written and rewritten a few hundred times since middle school, he’ll maybe try to drop hints to his momma, to get a feel for her reaction. He’ll think about slipping a “dad“ into conversation, see how it feels, if it changes anything between them.

He’ll curl up against Jack and talk about a future, the one they’re hoping for together, where their parents accept them, and they get to go to sleep at night wrapped around each other. Where it won’t matter what he calls his father, because the man will be proud to call him his son.

All About You (Hoseok/Reader)

Originally posted by bangtannoonas

Prompt: Im thirsty as hell for my boy J Hope as of late. Can I request an Smut leaning towards body appreciation? Im a thicc girl, and the idea of having a really insecure or crappy day and being comforted by Hobi worshipping my body and telling me how much he loves every inch of me is 👌👌👌

Genre: Smut

Words: 1k+

Author: JP

Summary: Oral sex, swearing

A/N: This might not be what you were expecting but I actually really love how it turned out, so I hope you enjoy it, even if it’s short af lol~

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Gajevy Love Week 2017 - Day 2 - Matching

Gajeel was hunched over his workbench working on what looked like a long, thin piece of metal when Levy got out of the shower. She jumped onto the bed, not bothering to remove either towel as she sprawled out.

“Hey, Gajeel?”

She got a grunt as a response. It was hard to get anything more out of him while he was working.

“You know it’s the guild Halloween party tomorrow?”

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anonymous asked:

Can I just say that I love the fact that your like the elucien sex guru of this fandom !! 😂 lol, on a less steamier note, I was wondering if you had any headcannons about what happens when they have nightmares ? Like how do they help each other out of it and what do they do to soothe and comfort the other ? I just thought that it would be kinda cute, though it has no relevance ! tysm x

hahaha oh god “elucien sex guru” let me just put that on my resume. But I AM HAPPY TO TALK ABOUT THIS HEADCANON; there’s not enough fluff in my life.

When Elain has nightmares, once she’s awake and no longer actively freaking out, Lucien wraps her in a blanket and hoists her in his arms and takes her out to the balcony their room has; he sits and holds her and they look at the stars. Being outdoors calms her, as does his voice, so Lucien talks to her, tells her stories of his childhood or bits of the fae history/mythology that she’s still learning. Sometimes Elain doesn’t want to go back to sleep afterwards so they steal food from the kitchen and stay up and snack and talk for a while.

I don’t think Lucien gets nightmares very often, I think his trauma sort of manifests as… I don’t know if I’d call it disassociating, because I don’t have firsthand experience with that and I don’t want to label things incorrectly/ be insensitive about a real symptom of mental illness, but he has times where he spaces out/ shuts down and gets really quiet and stuck in his own head, spiraling hard into bad memories/ thoughts. Sometimes it’s triggered by something, sometimes it comes on out of nowhere. Elain can always tell, even though it’s not always obvious, and tries to ground him with physical touch: just gently stroking his face, his arms, his hair, holding his hand. very patient and gentle. Sometimes she’ll get him to sit and rest his head on her shoulder or in her lap or the like. It takes him a couple of minutes to come out of it, sometimes longer, but eventually he’ll come back to himself little by little and start returning the affection. They usually cuddle for a bit after this if they can, not talking. Lucien loves her so much for all of this.