the unthinkable mind

anonymous asked:

What's your opinion on the theory that Dipper is treated unfairly throughout GF? For example, Dipper sacrifices a lot for Mabel, while she only seems to sacrifice her sock-puppet show for him. There are also many suggestions in the show that some episodes overlap, like that from July 11-15, Sock Opera, Blendin's Game and Into the Bunker overlap. Which means D was under a LOT of pressure that week and he sacrificed a LOT for his sister. But she doesn't thank him for that. What are your thoughts?

See, maybe it’s the big sister in me, because I’ve never understood this particular complaint. The fact is, Dipper loves Mabel so much that her happiness is his own; his actions of sacrifice on her behalf are freely chosen. That’s why Bill’s behavior in “Sock Opera” is so insidious; he builds on Dipper’s momentary frustration with Mabel (why won’t she help me?!?!) by bringing up the various ways he’s helped her in the past, implying that she hasn’t done much to return the favor. He seeks to engender resentment where there was none, where Dipper was previously unwilling to give him so much as a stitch of Mabel’s puppet show; hey, she worked hard on those.

The key assertion I have to address here is that “Dipper sacrifices a lot for Mabel, while she only seems to sacrifice her sock-puppet show for him.” I imagine that viewers come to the conclusion that Dipper has the losing end because, when they compare Dipper’s problems to Mabel’s, they see Dipper’s as more serious. Dipper has a crush he can’t shake (relatable), Mabel is gaga over a pig she just saw at the fair (less relatable); Dipper is pursuing the latest lead in his search for the Author (important), Mabel is rigging up an elaborate puppet show to impress the Boy of the Week (unimportant). Yet the show is always keenly aware that Mabel’s problems, as trivial as they may seem to us, are as important to her as Dipper’s are to him. Bill highlights this when he says, “Who would sacrifice everything they’d worked for just for their dumb sibling?”, causing Mabel to respond, “Dipper would.” Dipper’s “everything” is his investigation of Gravity Falls and Mabel’s “everything” is her puppet show, but each of their projects is everything. Coming from Mabel, the sacrifice of the sock puppet show–and, by extension, of a shot at the “epic summer romance” she’s been seeking as ardently as Dipper has been seeking the answers to his questions–is a very real loss, one she’s willing to accept because Dipper would do and has done as much for her.

Nor is Mabel’s puppet show the only casualty of her greater love for her brother; the loss of her dream world is no mean thing. Mabeland might not be to everyone’s taste (I would personally have thinned out the crowd and lowered the 80s club music a notch), but it’s Mabel’s ideal universe; it’s a world where everything is as she wants it, where she’s never bored or lonely, where every boy loves her, where the high court judge is a kitten. With the threat of change weighing on her and the most important relationship of her life under siege, the prison bubble presents Mabel with an irresistible retreat. Bill, who has banked on human greed in the past to great success, believes that the trap is inescapable, that no one handed all their heart’s desires on a plate will be capable of leaving (just as Mabel is taken in by her desperation to stop time, Dipper wavers when presented with the possibility of growing up on the spot). But without Dipper, all of it is hollow; she prefers in the end to leave her safe place and to follow him into an uncertain world.

For much of the show, Dipper is the more responsible one within the context of their relationship. Regardless of actual birth order, Mabel is the baby; sometimes the baby gets in a habit of relying on charm to carry her through, taking it for granted that her older siblings will always step up to the plate on her behalf, because she’s just that cute (looking at you, youngest sibling in my own family). But if Mabel’s occasional thoughtlessness with regard to Dipper is a character flaw, it’s worth measuring against the depth of her concern for the world at large, a quality that Dipper himself, who tends to value his select group, could stand to learn from. Dipper’s only real issue with the destruction of Northwest Manor and all of its visitors is that Mabel happens to be among them; Mabel is the first to see the potential for redemption in Pacifica, even though Dipper is the one who becomes close to her.

But Mabel loves Dipper more than anyone, and she is grateful to him for everything he does for her and shows it. She apologizes to him at the end of “Sock Opera” for letting a transient enthusiasm skew her priorities: “I spent all week obsessing over a dumb guy. But the dumb guy I should have cared about was you.” After escaping the prison bubble, she makes it clear to him that he can stay with Ford if he wants to–her noblest moment in the series, because Dipper is her entire world, infinitely more to her than crushes and pet pigs and magical trees that grow stuffed animals. He stays with her, not out of guilty obligation, but because he wants to be with her–because she’s his best friend, because growing up without her would be unthinkable. He’s a fair-minded guy, not one to take the fall without good reason–when he operates against her in “The Time-Traveler’s Pig,” he does so on the assumption that her pig is an enthusiasm of the moment and that his love for Wendy is permanent. When he realizes that losing Waddles will truly hurt her, he doesn’t hesitate. “I could never break your heart, Mabel.”

But look at how she thanks him. She knows this wasn’t easy for him and she’s ready to show him how much it means to her. She tackles him in sheer strength of feeling. She lifts him right off his feet.

Treated unfairly? Dipper gets back everything he gives away with interest. Dipper’s happiness is his sister’s happiness and he always gets it because he is her happiness. Dipper is a lucky kid.

Reaper

I saw this piece of art on Pinterest, if anyone knows the artist, please tag them because this drawing inspired the story.


A/N: You always hear about the lives the team (Avengers) saves, but what haunts them are the faces of the ones they couldn’t save. Enjoy!


I awoke in the middle of the night to see Bucky’s vacant side of the bed, his pillow was soaked with perspiration and that meant one thing. He had another nightmare. It was the third one this week and they seem to be getting progressively worse.

He’s been having a difficult time adjusting, since the mission in South America when a young boy he befriended died in a mudslide that he thinks, he could have prevented. The little boy’s body was never found and it has taken its toll on Bucky, who was given a mandatory and at a minimum two weeks of rest and recuperation, following his hallucinations and short temper with the rest of the team.

There was nothing I could do, except to be the light for him when he resurfaced from this darkness. I crept from the bed and followed the streak of light that shone beneath the closed bathroom door and listened to the running water and indecipherable chatter. I opened the door quietly and saw him hunched over the sink, the muscles on his naked back moving up and down as he inhaled and exhaled deeply. His navy blue pajama pants hanging loosely from his hip and his dark hair was a matted mess, clinging to his sweat soaked neck.

We made eye contact through the mirror and he turned slightly, “I’m sorry I woke you,” He croaked before he turned to stare at his gaunt reflection in the mirror, which had a crack in it.

“It’s the third time this week, babe.” I say as I padded across the room slowly, noticing that the crack in the mirror was from his fist, which had blood trickling down the knuckles of his right hand that he didn’t seem fazed by.

“I could have saved him.” He says, his left arm gripping the sink with such force it began to crack.

I hugged him from behind, pressing my frame into his hardened mass of muscle, reassuring him, and letting him know that I am here and will always be here. “You did everything you could.” I say, lightly tracing my fingers across the fresh bruises that ran along his torso, noting his muscle twitches in certain tender spots.

He shakes his head. “He was screaming out for help, I heard him clear as day, but then it stopped. As soon as I got to the area where I thought he might be, I screamed for him.” He choked. “Yenny, I’m here just scream out! I’m here, buddy! B-but, he didn’t.” He turned to me. “Why didn’t he scream out?”

I shook my head as I thought about Yenny, how scared and alone he must have felt in that moment and then choking on the mud and dying. I shake the unthinkable from my mind and held Bucky tighter as I felt his body vibrate from the force of his emtions, “I don’t know, baby.”

He turned to look at the mirror and his fist connected with the remainder of the glass that shattered, pieces falling into the sink and on the floor. “I was there, I dug through all that mess, but I couldn’t find him.”

The blood was now oozing from his knuckles. “Babe, I’m sorry.” I grabbed his right hand and ran it under the faucet until the water turned from crimson to pink and then clear. 

I walked across the bathroom and retrieved the first aid kit. I motioned for him to sit on the edge of the tub. “Your foot.” He gestured.

I looked down at my bloody footprint as I sat in front of him. “It’s your blood.” I lied. We exchanged a glance and we both knew he didn’t have the strength to question my lie.

It was going to be another one of those late nights that will turn into an early morning and the splinter in my foot didn’t compare to splinters that have pierced his heart. He held out his hand and I began the slow process of extracting the glass shards, disinfecting and bandaging his wounded hand.

This is the side that doesn’t get glorified; my big, strong, and indestructible Soldier, whose massive frame has shrunken down to that of a fragile child, a breath away from shattering.


Happy June 1st, my lovelies. I am on a mission. For the entire month of June I am going to consistently post two stories a week, forcing myself to get back into writing regularly. That will be ten stories for the month.

2x15, Magnus’ POV

(if you like it, thank @hikaru9 if you don’t, blame @hikaru9)


He doesn’t try to sleep anymore. He hasn’t really slept in over a week. There’s no salvation in the nights, no healing power.

He’s staring at his lover next to him, his face basked in moonlight. He takes in every detail as he has done the past few nights, to his shame he’s forgotten how many he’s been staying here. It doesn’t really matter.

His eyes focus on the eyebrow scar, the nose dimple, those lips he always knows what they taste and feel like without having to think about it. Alexander’s hair is mussed, and his fingers remember the soft ticklish sensations as they run through it, they remember the heat evaporating from his skin.

He remembers the sounds he made in the throws of passion just a few hours ago.

It helps to forget – for a while.

He can pretend – for a while.

He can outwit the pain – for a while.

His eyes burn and he closes them for just a moment.

Mama! Mama!

His eyes snap open and he sits in bed, his heart racing, pumping madly in his chest. He swings his legs out of bed, he can’t stay, he can’t wake him – he freezes as he notices the sleeping figure turning around, afraid it’s already too late.

But Alec sleeps on.

Keep reading

4

Iwashita and Nisi, Japanese and American

On July 3rd, 1944, Kunio Iwashita watched from the ground on a runway on Iwo Jima as thirty-one A6M Zero fighter planes took off to intercept a wave of incoming American planes off the coast. After a half hour of fierce dogfighting concluded, only seventeen Zeros returned.

Iwashita recalls his thoughts: “I sat upon pins and needles watching my brothers being shot down, one after another. I told Katsutoshi Yagi, my unit commander, that I wanted take to the sky the next day, by any means necessary.”

The next day, before dawn on July 4th, 1944, while suffering from stomach pains the result of a severe case of anxiety, Iwashita reported for duty. His squadron leader, Lieutenant Fujita, took him aside to offer some advice about what would be his first time in combat: Iwashita again recalls what he was told, “Your first fight is the most dangerous! I’ll teach you how to brawl. Don’t stray far from me. Follow as tightly as you can.”

Fujita was a veteran of the Pearl Harbor attack and Battle of Midway, as well as a Naval Academy Flight School classmate of Iwashita’s deceased brother, Kutaka Iwashita, who was a pilot onboard the aircraft carrier Zuikaku, and had died earlier in the war, during the Battle of Santa Cruz, inspiring two movies about his exploits in the process. Kunio had big shoes to fill.

Once in the air, the Japanese aviators assumed formation and began their patrol. Within a short time, Iwashita saw four planes ahead of his sortie, that he initially assumed were Japanese. Increasing his speed, he approached them from behind, coming within a distance of 100 meters. Once upon them, their star markings came into sight: they were American Grumman F6F Hellcats. They had failed to notice his approach - the Japanese pilot was completely undetected, allowing Iwashita to close in on the last fighter in the formation. Iwashita continued to close in on the last plane in the formation, until coming within less than 30 feet of the Hellcat, where he opened fire. His A6M5’s 20mm cannon shells tore into the Hellcat. He recalls, “The wing of the F6F broke apart - I saw the goggles and white muffler of the young pilot and the surprise on his face as he looked back at me. The F6F was instantly engulfed in flames and he lost altitude until he crashed violently into the sea. I remember glancing, noting that Suribachi was close in proximity to us.”

Later that same night, July 4th, 1944, Iwashita couldn’t sleep. He recalled all too vividly the face of the young pilot he had shot down. While his comrades slept, he left the barracks and walked along the black sands of the beach near Mount Suribachi, and looked to the spot on the sea where the American fighter had tumbled into the waves. He pressed his hands together in prayer.

During the 50th Anniversary remembrances of WWII, Iwashita delivered a speech about his experiences. He revealed that it was his deepest hope to discover the identity of his first kill, which he remembers so vividly, and pay his respects to the family. The request was passed to the US Navy Historical Society, and after some time, Kunio got his answer.

Five American pilots were shot down over Iwo Jima on July 4th, 1944. One was rescued, the other four were marked ‘Missing In Action’. Although impossible to identify precisely which plane Iwashita shot down, one photo stood out: his name was Alberto C. Nisi, who piloted F6F Hellcat #43041.

On July 4th, 1944, Alberto Nisi was 26 years old, serving aboard USS Wasp with VF-14, the “Iron Angels”. Nisi was a second generation Italian-American, and his family lived in Worcester, Massachusetts. Before the war, he attended a two-year college and earned his degree in accounting, worked for the Electric Boat Company in Connecticut, and joined the US Navy Reserves. Prior to his July 4th mission, he was constantly writing his sister, who was pregnant and expecting in early July. Instead of receiving a celebratory message from her brother when the baby arrived, there was a telegraph from the Department of The Navy. Ensign Alberto Nisi was missing in action. His nephew was born 2 days later, 2 days after his death.

The American fleet withdrew the the morning after the dogfight, July 5th, surprisingly to the Japanese, who had anticipated an invasion of Iwo Jima, and had ordered all pilots to fight as infantrymen to the last man. This fate would befall the Japanese servicemen stationed on the island just short of a year later. After their anticipated demise had simply sailed in the other direction, all surviving Imperial Japanese Navy Air Service pilots were ordered back to Japan on a transport plane. During their defense of Iwo Jima, Iwashita’s squadron lost 31 pilots and claimed 20 enemy planes destroyed.

After being stationed on Iwo Jima, Iwashita flew missions over the Philippines (luckily escaping Clark Airfield on the last departing transport plane, while many of his squad mates fled into the jungle, where they died of starvation or disease), Okinawa (as an escort for kamikazes enroute to the American fleet), and Mainland Japan (intercepting B-29’s).

He later remarked, “I had fought ferocious battles over Iwo Jima and the Philippine islands, but I knew within that we couldn’t win. Now, although I understood that we would not be able to win, I did not think that Japan would be defeated. Defeat was unthinkable in our minds, because we had not received education on defeat. We were taught to believe we were indestructible. We knew no such reality, however. I had a feeling that the time had come at last when it would be over. I think that most members of the Yokosuka Kokuai (the unit he was stationed with at the end of the war) accepted the end of the war with a relieved calmness.”

By the end of the war, 31 of the 35 classmates of his fighter school’s graduating class were dead.

During his service time, Iwashita became an Ace, and shot down several other aircraft, but he never witnessed another American pilot up close again. The face of the man who’s life he claimed haunted him.

On June 20th, 2003, after many negotiations and much consideration, and through some reluctance, a meeting between his family and the Nisi family was organized. After receiving reassurance from his daughter, who had done the work to contact the Nisi family, Iwashita decided to go ahead with the meeting. Although he was made many offers, Kunio declined any media coverage of the meeting - it was to be a private affair.

After introductions, Iwashita explained his recollection of the battle, and answered the family’s queries. The former Zero pilot even entertained numerous questions from Albert Nisi’s curious 11-year-old great-nephew. The atmosphere of the two-hour meeting was gentle, the Nisi family warmly embracing the man who had once been their most bitter enemy. After the meeting had concluded, the Nisi family presented Kunio with a wartime photograph of Alberto in the cockpit of his F6F Hellcat (pictured above). Iwashita immediately recognized the face that looked back at him.

Terrance Nisi reflected on the meeting, “Mr. Iwashita’s visit moved us very deeply. It took a lot of courage for him to meet us. He was proud of his days as fighter pilot, but still, pride doesn’t mitigate the feeling that you experience when you take someone’s life.”

Iwashita is still alive today, at 96, and is the president of the Zero Pilots Association of Japan.

Drabble Prompts: Are You.... Jealous?

A/N: okay so this was a combination of about three prompts.

You wandered back from the bar, a free pitcher of beer in your hand. Plonking it on the table you grinned at the others.

“Courtesy of the lovely Jacob behind the bar…. ”

You’d spent the last ten minutes flirting with him and making a big show of taking his number, not that you had any intention of using it. You just enjoyed flirting.

“You know, the way you flirt is just shameful,” Spencer commented, his usual cheery demeanor gone.

“It’s just a bit of fun!” you exclaimed, wondering who’d crawled into his ass and pissed him off. Penelope and Emily nodded along with you, refilling their glasses.

“To you maybe. What about the poor saps you’re leading on?”

“I don’t lead anyone on. I tell people I have a boyfriend even though I don’t. It’s not my fault they still push their numbers onto me. When you think about it, they’re the ones in the wrong,” you were appalled at Spencer’s attitude towards you all of a sudden.

“They wouldn’t push them onto you if you didn’t show so willing to take them.”

“Spencer! What the hell is wrong with you tonight?”

“Oh just ignore him Kitty Cat, ” Derek gave his colleague a sharp nudge. “He’s probably just jealous or something.”

“Pffft,” both you and Reid scoffed although he did at least shut up.

You and the girls went off to dance, deciding to leave the bar at around one.

“You two gonna share a cab?” Derek glanced over to you and Reid. You both lived quite close to each other, over the opposite side of town to the others. It was handy, meaning you often had someone to carpool with and to occasionally have someone nearby to hang out with at the weekends.

“As long as he doesn’t accuse me of flirting with the cab driver.”

Reid flushed slightly at your dig, looking mildly uncomfortable. You’d been so taken back by his comments earlier. It was so unlike the kind and sweet man you’d come to call your friend. When you’d first met him, you’d been stunned by how handsome he was too, quickly realising that flirting was not something he took to1. Which was a shame, you’d have very much liked to flirt with him, one of the few people you could have seen it actually leading somewhere with. You’d pushed that fleeting thought to the back of your head pretty fast. Spencer didn’t date. In fact, no one on the team was 100 percent sure what Spencer’s deal actually was.

Derek hopped into the first cab with Garcia and Emily, Garcia being a little worse for the wear. When you were left alone with Reid, an uncomfortable silence descended over you. When ten minutes had passed by and you hadn’t spotted another cab you took your cell out and decided to take matters into your own hands.

“Fuck this, I’m ordering an Uber,” you loaded up the app and started tapping in the details, walking up the street slightly away from the bar. You rested your back against a store front as you finished your order, Spencer in front of you.

“You didn’t have to do that, it’ll probably cost double the amount at this time of night.”

“Just over double actually. But I just wanna go home. It should only be another five minutes.”

He nodded, sticking his hands in his pockets and shuffling his feet awkwardly.

“What was up with you earlier anyway?”

“What, when?” Spencer pulled a face, feigning ignorance.

“Earlier? Your snarky attitude towards towards me for having a harmless flirt. Christ Spencer, for a second I actually considered Derek’s suggestion that you were jealous.”

Reid bit his lip and a flush covered his cheeks, his hands being shoved deeper into his pockets. The unthinkable suddenly crossed your mind.

“Wait, were you jealous?”

“No!”

“Oh my God… You were!”

“No I wasn’t!”

And denile was just a river in Egypt. Every little bit of his body language right now was telling you that you were right.

“Yes, you were. Derek was right.”

“No he isn’t.”

“Spencer come on… Admit it, it all kinda makes sense now.”

“There’s nothing to admit, shut up!”

You licked your lips and stepped closer to him, more sure than ever about this.

“Make me.”

“What?”

“You heard. You were jealous earlier and there’s a reason for it. You won’t admit it and you want me to shut up about it. So make me shut up .”

Either way this went you were quite sure you were going to get the answer you wanted.

And seconds later after seeing conflict cross Spencer’s face, you had the answer.

Soft lips crushed against yours and you were moved back against the wall, his body pinned against yours. You reached up and tangled your fingers into his hair, feeling his tongue flick out and requesting access. Lips parted and tongues met, the taste of alcohol in both of your mouths. And although it was the alcohol that had made this interaction possible, you knew that it wasn’t happening because you were drunk. You wanted him and he wanted you. After a few frenzied minutes he pulled back, almost breathless. You didn’t release him from you though, holding his head close to yours.

“Admit it… ” you breathed.

“I was jealous, I’m sorry.”

A grin broke over your lips, “You really don’t need to be. You could have just said something to me…”

“I didn’t know how to,” his hazel eyes gazed into yours and you pressed your lips to his once more, this time more sweetly.

BEEP BEEP.

You broke apart seeing a car pulled up to the curb as your cell started to vibrate. Your ride was here. Spencer held the door open for you and you both slid in, buckling up.

“I have down two drops, is that right?” the driver glanced into his mirror and stole a look at Reid.

Reaching across the seat you took Spencer’s hand and squeezed it.

“No, just the one please.”

anonymous asked:

Angst ask here! Male Shepards reactions to F!MU coming back after Grima is destroyed but lost her memories once again?

Your name: submit What is this?

Gaius: He assumes the rather befuddled look on your face is nothing to worry about. After all, you’ve just woken up in the middle of a field. ‘Course you’d be dazed. “What, Bubbles,” he jokes, and pokes your tummy. “Don’t tell me you’ve forget everything again?” He ruffles your hair and laughs, only for his smirk to be wiped off when you nod.

Keep reading

HAPPY NEW YEARS SONAMY BOOM PROMPT!

(Picture done by e-vay! She’s awesome!)

“Hey, Tails. You about done with those fireworks?” Sonic said, placing some food on the party table Amy had set up.

“Yeah. I’ve just about got it all finished here. Just making a few adjustments. It’ll take a couple of minutes.” Tails explained as he continued to tinker out the few kinks in his firework machine.

“Alright, buddy. Tell me when you’re ready.”

“Gotcha.” Tails said as he waved two fingers to Sonic before he walked away.

Amy decided to give the crew a New Years party along with the contribution of Tails’ amazing fireworks. She’d even gone out of her way to make a couple of hors d'oeuvres and some sweet drinks along with a main meal. What better way to start the new year off than with a couple of repleted stomachs?

Sticks and Knuckles had been playing with a glow-in-the-dark volley ball, seeing that they both love shiny objects, especially if it’s glowing in the dark. Amy was sitting near the water, gazing out into the sea. Sonic noticed her all by herself and decided to accompany her. He walked over and sat down next to her, not saying a word and just placing his elbows on his knees, looking out into the ocean also.

“So…what’s goin on in that pretty little head of yours?” Sonic asked, looking to Amy with half closed eyes. She blushed at his compliment and just continued looking ahead.

“Oh…just…thinking about the things to come in the new year. Hoping for new things. New places. Silly things like that.”

Sonic chuckled at her response. “I don’t think it’s silly. Isn’t wanting new things to happen the norm for a New Years Resolution?”

She turned to him and smiled. “Well, yeah, but I guess mine’s a little boring, huh.”

Sonic raised a brow at her. “Boring? Nah, Ames. I like to call it…simple. And that’s cool. I don’t really have one myself.” he said as he lied back on the sand, placing his hands behind his head and closing his eyes.

Amy looked at him in question. “What? How can you not have a resolution? It’s a tradition.”

“Yeah, well, I’ve never been a traditional kind of guy. I’d rather things just go naturally. Ya know. Go with the flow.” he said as he opened one eye and moved one hand in a wave-like motion.

“Is that how you handle everything?”

“Pretty much.”

She giggled before looking back to the ocean and resting her head and cupping her arms around her knees. “Sonic…there is one thing I’d like to happen for the new year.”

Sonic sat up and looked to her, waiting for her response.

“…I’d like you to be more careful…” she said as she turned to look at him, seriousness written on her face. “I mean it, Sonic. You mean a lot to us and…well, I don’t know what I’d do if we ever lost you. I can’t tell you how terrified I was when Lyric…” she paused, trying to compose herself, not wanting to think about what happened, “when Lyric hurt you. All of us were pretty scared out of our minds, but I can’t speak for them; only myself. Sonic, just…don’t be so ruthless this year, k?"she finished softly, placing a hand on top of his and looking into his eyes for assurance.

Sonic blinked, looked at her hand, and back up to her, smirking. He leaned forward slyly. "Gosh, Amy. I didn’t know ya cared.”

Amy frowned and punched his arm. “Sonic, I’m serious!”

He chuckled and smiled at her. “Yeah, Ames. I’ll be careful.”

“You promise?”

He placed his other hand on her current one lying on his. “Promise.”

Amy smiled and squeezed his hand, thanking him physically. They were facing each other and their faces weren’t too far from the other. For a moment, their eyes were locked onto each other, contemplating the unthinkable (in their minds) before a voice interrupted their thoughts.

“Alright, Sonic! It’s time!” Tails called out as Sticks and Knuckles stopped their volley ball game and walked towards Tails.

Sonic and Amy looked back towards each other and removed their hands from the other, blushing as they did so. Sonic rubbed the back of his head and smiled sheepishly before standing up and offering a hand to Amy, to which she gladly accepted. As they walked back to the others, Sonic looked down as he walked.

“Amy…”

Amy turned to him. “Yes?”

“I do it to protect you…er, you guys! I do it to protect you guys…Heh.” he said nervously, trying to fix his mistake, if a mistake at all. Amy stared at him, touched that he’d confessed something so sweet, even if he did try and fix it. She wasn’t stupid. She smiled and leaned up to kiss him on the cheek. He flinched by surprise, but relaxed when he realized it was just on his cheek.

“Thank you, Sonic. That means a lot to me…and I’m sure it would to them too. Hehe.” she giggled and placed her arm around his as they continued to walk to the group. Tails, Sticks and Knuckles all raised a brow at Sonic’s blushing and Amy being latched on his arm.

“Uhhh, did we miss somethin’?” Knuckles asked, raising a finger.

Amy let go of Sonic’s arm and walked past the others, checking to see if the food was still edible and hadn’t been attacked by night bugs yet. Sonic watched her as he stopped in front of them and smiled. “Nah. You didn’t miss a thing. Now, what time is it?”

“Ah, we have 25 seconds until midnight hits. You all ready for countdown?” Tails asked excitedly, holding a lever that would trigger the firework machine to work its magic.

“Let the shiny works begin!” Sticks cheered.

“Oooh, shiny works? I wanna see!” Knuckles jumped up and down, clapping his hands in anticipation.

“This is gonna be so cool!” Tails gushed.

Sonic looked at his wrist com’ which had a timer on it. “Alright, guys, it’s going on…13, 12, 11…"Amy walked up next to Sonic and grabbed his hand, also counting down and smiling up at him as he smiled back.

"10..9..8..7..6..5..4..3..2..1..HAPPY NEW YEAR!” They all screamed as Tails pulled the lever and rockets of fireworks shot out from the machine, flying high into the night sky. They lit up the entire island, blasting everywhere, making loops and scriggly lines as they dashed off in all kinds of directions into the atmosphere. They all watched in awe and Tails brushed his knuckles on his chest, proud of his handy work.

Sonic and Amy hugged each other as did Knuckles and Sticks until they all came together in a group hug, grabbing Tails in the process.

After the fireworks, they all sat and ate a wonderfully prepared midnight meal, also going around the table telling their New Years Resolutions. After that, they played a couple of games, danced and reminisced on the year that had gone by, enjoying each other’s memories as well as their own.

The End

Beauty and the Beast // Kylo x Reader

Your blog is literally my fav and I wanted to ask if you could write a kylo x reader imagine based on the story ‘beauty and the beast’??? Bye xx

So, I know all the math is off, but while reading this, Poe is older. Kylo is about the same age still. The reader is a little younger than Kylo.


“Where is my father?” you scream, running around the rebel base like a chicken without a head. “Poe Dameron! Where is he?”

General Organa stops you from screaming. “(Y/N), please calm down. I’m sure he’s fine,” she consoles you as the tears are streaming down your face. She takes you in your arms, rubbing your back gently.

A pilot that is friends with your father comes up. “General Organa, we’ve tracked down Dameron.”

Your ears perk up and you lift your head. “Where is he? I need to find him. Let me get him, please!” you beg.

“Poe is held captive at the First Order…” he tells you as you and Leia gasp. “Kylo Ren is trying to get information out of him.”

You look at General Organa, your eyes begging to go and get him.

She sighs, “Send our best pilots out: Cole, Jake, Kris, and (Y/N).”

The pilot nods and go to send off the others. You smile and hug the general, “Thank you so much. I’ll bring him home safe.”

After that, you go change into your pilot suit and grab your helmet. BB-8, your father’s droid, rolls to you, beeping. “Yes, buddy. We’re getting Dad back.” He squeals in excitement as you climb into your ship.

Leaving the base and flying away, you talk into your head set, “Okay listen, we are here for one thing and one thing only. We are getting back Poe Dameron and returning him back to the base safely. Are we clear?”

Everyone replies back with a yes as you transition into hyper speed. Soon enough, the First Order’s ship comes into view. Your heart rate slowly starts to pick up.

Before anyone notices, you fly onto a landing pad, running off the ship. Surprisingly, no one notices and you run down the hall, trying to find your father.

You walk down numerous halls, before stumbling upon an open room. There are two storm troopers guarding the door. Hiding behind a wall, you pull down a small blaster, taking down the both of them. You run into the room to reveal your father, locked up and wounded.

Parts of his scalp and head are bleeding. His arms are cut and wrists are bruised. His face hooks haggard and tired.

“Daddy?” you question him as his eyes open as a small, weak smile appears on his face.

“Hey, there’s my belle,” his voice is hoarse, causing tears to well in your eyes.

You let out a small sob as you run to him, embracing his waist making sure to be gentle around his wounds. When you pull away, you undo his restraints, setting him free. As he stands up, but his legs are far too weak as he falls into you. You quickly catch him, wrapping an arm around his waist and he slings his arm around your neck.

“Going somewhere?” a voice says, causing you to look up. Standing in front of you is the infamous, Kylo. He’s dressed in all black, almost as if he is a shadow. Before you can process what is happening, your father is flung up against the wall roughly, the Force restraining him.

“Dad, no!” you cry.

“Oh, Dad? Mr. Dameron, you never informed me that you had a daughter,” his voice disgusts you.

“You are vile,” you spit at him, before he lets go of your father as he falls to the floor. You run to his side, helping him back up.

“Thank you, I appreciate the compliment,” Kylo retorts back, you sending him a glare. “However, I’m afraid I cannot let your poor father go. I need him for some information.”

You look at your father. His condition is near death and your heart yearns for his safety. A thought crosses your mind, an unthinkable thought, but you know it’s the right thing to do.

“Let him go…and I’ll stay,” you offer him a deal.

“(Y/N), no! You can’t! He’s a monster and I won’t allow it!” your father yells. A tear rolls down your cheek.

“Your offer is touching. Truly. Touching,” Kylo says with a snap of his fingers as two storm troopers enter. “I accept it.” The two troopers pick up your father, returning him back to your ship.

“No!” Poe yells before he leaves the room, you sitting on the floor sobbing. You are left alone in the room with Kylo.

“I didn’t get to say goodbye,” you sob into your hands. Kylo stands there, his heart slowly breaking as he listens to your sobs. “Now I assume you are going to tie me up and torture me.”

Kylo stands there, thinking before he speaks. “Follow me.” You sit there in protest. “Did your ears lap over? Follow. Me.”

You stand up, afraid of what he’ll do if you don’t follow him. The two of you walk down various halls, you wondering what your future holds.

You think about your death. Would it be painful? Would it be unnoticed?

Before you know it, Kylo opens a door to reveal a bedroom. There is a large bed with a beautiful headboard. There is an armoire filled with clothes and you can see a gorgeous bathroom in the distance.

“What are we doing here?” you asked confused.

He looks at you, “This is your bedroom. You only exit when I ask you or with permission.” His directions make you want punch him and that smug face probably hiding underneath that damn mask. You walk into the room and the door slams behind you startling you.

Ass.

Kylo walks away from your room as General Hux comes up to him.

“Who is the girl?” Hux asked the Commander.

“Poe Dameron’s daughter. Another rebel,” he says before walking away. Hux becomes curious and walks to your room.

Knocking on the door gently, you respond, “Go away.”

“I’m not sure you know me. I’m General Hux, the right hand man to the Commander. May I come in?” he asks through the door.

You slowly rise from the bed and you open the door to reveal a tall man with flaming ginger hair. He greets you with a small smile.

“What you did for your father was incredibly brave. I have a lot of respect for you,” Hux says, bowing his head.

You can’t help but smile. “Thank you.”

“This isn’t really permitted here, but I would like to show you around the ship. Give you a tour,” he smiles.

That night, Hux showed you around the ship. It wasn’t very exciting, no music or dancing, but it was thoughtful of him. Hux showed you the boring parts and the more cool things.

You’ve been held captive for almost two months now and you had to say you were getting quite accustomed to life here. Sure, it was simple, but the minimalism pleased you.

One day, you heard a knock on the door and you rise from reading your book that Hux leant you. Opening up the door, Kylo is revealed.

Your relationship with Kylo was best described as bipolar. Sometimes it was nice and calm, you’d have a simple conversation at night in your room. However, sometimes you’d be screaming and crying and he’d leave, later finding out he trashed a room with his lightsaber.

“Kylo…hi,” you speak.

“Tonight…I-I was uh um wondering if you’d uh-tonight meet me at the landing area,” he spits out finally. He then walks away, leaving you there in the door frame.

Like the said, that night you met him at the landing area.

However, you did not recognize him because he wasn’t wearing his mask. You finally saw his face. It was very different looking then you pictured. He was very handsome. His hair was long and dark. His eyes were a captivating hue and his jawline was perfectly sculpted. However his usual attire remained.

“You wanted me?” you ask him, walking closer to him.

“General Hux has informed me you liked the stars. I have a surprise for you,” he says holding out his hand. His action and the tone of his voice was something you have never witnessed before.

Gently, you take his hand as he intertwines your fingers. His hands are warm as large compared to the size of your delicate shape.

He guides you to the west wing, a place that General Hux says that no one ever goes to because Kylo doesn’t allow it. He says it has to much personal value. When you arrive, it’s a dark black room.

“Ready?” he says, excitement laced in his voice. You hum in response. “Look up.”

When you do, a flap is lifted to reveal a panorama of stars. They light up the room, twinkling bright. You gasp at the beauty. “This is absolutely incredible.”

“When the ship was being built, they rushed to finish this wing. So, I told them to just use glass. I come here whenever I’m stressed or I just need time for myself,” he says leaning up against the bar close to the window.

You walk towards him, blown away by how sentimental he has become. “I would too. It’s amazing,” you say, gazing upward.

Kylo looks at you, taking in the way the starlight lays upon your beautiful face. You stared up at the sky in awe as he stared at you in awe. At last, he finally mustered up enough courage to say what was on his mind.

Slowly, he intertwines your fingers. “(Y/N), ever since you came here, I’ve changed. You have made me a better person. You’ve taught me how to be more patient and accepting. I think it’s safe to say that I am in lo-”

His words that have made your heart flutter are stopped when you hear a thump. You look at him. “I’ll go out a check. I’ll be right back,” you smile at him, exiting the wing.

As you come to the launching pad, there is a rebel ship that lands.

Oh, no.

A group of about ten to fifteen people run off the ship with blasters and weapons. Your father being one of them.

“Dad?” you ask, as he turns around to look at you with a blaster in hand. “What are you doing here?”

He smiles at walks toward you. “There’s my belle,” he comes over to hug you tightly. “We came here to rescue you and to talk down that son of a bitch who held you captive for months and probably hurt you.”

You smile, “No, Daddy. You don’t understand. He’s not that bad.”

He furrows his eyebrows in confusion. As Poe opens up his mouth, someone interrupts. “That man is no good guy. He is a monster and he needs to be stopped.”

There he is. The real monster. Jess was a guy on the rebel base who was convinced he was going to make you his wife. But he was a pig. Filthy, disgusted, and would be enjoyed by many people if he were dead.

“Hello, Jess,” you roll your eyes. “He isn’t. He’s changed. He has seen his mistakes and…I think he’s in love with me.”

When you say this, Jess breaks out in laughter as your father stares at you in shock. “Oh, (Y/N), please. This man is dangerous. He needs to be killed.”

You shake your head and start backing away. You need to tell Kylo to get away. You start to run down the hall back to Kylo. You hear Jess telling everyone to follow you.

Opening up the door to the star room, Kylo is still there. “Kylo, run. The rebels are here to kill you. Run,” you pants.

“No. What are you going to do? I’m not running away without you. (Y/N), I love you.”

Your heart flutters at his words.

“I love you, too.”

He leans down and pushes his lips on yours. The kiss is everything you could ever imagine. It was soft, yet passionate. “(Y/N), get away from him!” your father’s voice yells.

“Dad, I love him!” you yell back. “And if you can’t accept that, so be it.”

Kylo unleashes his lightsaber as you pull out a blaster.

“I can’t believe you would betray us. We are your family,” your father shakes his head. Just then, Jess comes at Kylo, full speed with a staff, swinging at him as you start shooting blasters.

It was a fight. Rebels against love.

In the end, five rebels were dead and Jess and Kylo were head to head. The two of them were at the launch pad, on the edge. One was bound to fall. Just as Jess lifts his staff to take a large strike at Kylo, he loses his balance and falls over off the ship. You gasp at the sight and Kylo steps back.

“Kylo, what do we do?” you ask him, running to him as he hugs you tightly.

“I don’t know my love. I don’t know,” he kisses the top of your head as you start to cry into his chest.

Neither of you notice, but your father is hiding behind the wall watching you two interact. He smiles at the two of you, before he speaks. “You really do love each other?”

You look up at your father and speak, “Yeah.” You look at Kylo, “We do.”

Poe smiles. “I don’t know how you are going to work this out, but you have my blessing.”

Kylo and you turn to each other as you giggle like a child, jumping on him, tightly hugging him. When you pull away, you connect your lips. The beauty and the no longer beast.

Commander’s Toolkit

Good Cards for Mill Decks 

Mill may not be the best way to win in EDH, but it is definitely my favorite way to play. These cards make milling in this format workable. 

1. Mesmeric Orb 

Mesmeric Orb makes your opponents think twice about tapping things. a brilliant way to slowly whittle away decks, best put in an Eldrazi though so you don’t mill yourself out. 

2. Keening Stone 

Keening Stone is one of my favorite cards. It is one of the quickest ways to whittle away libraries and goes great with Traumatize to quickly finish off a player 

3. Memory Erosion 

This will hopefully slow down your opponents plans. By playing this, you ensure that they lose two cards everytime they cast a spell. 

4. Hedron Crab

This creature is brilliant if you can play it early. I find it goes great with any Moonfolk, but especially Soratami Mindsweeper.

5. Jace, Memory Adept 

Yep, here he is, the most hated planeswalker. His second ability puts your opponents on a very short clock. And who cares how harsh it is to use that ability. 

6. Mindcrank 

Another one of my favorite cards. When I first saw this card, I started salivating and had to immediately buy a playset. Don’t forget they form a winning combo with Bloodchief Ascension 

7. Dreamborn Muse 

Dreamborn Muse is a brilliant way of killing decks with lots of card draw. Just make sure you have a way of stemming the flow or you could meet a similar fate.

8.Sands of Delirium 

This card allows you to use your excess mana at the end of every turn to chuck a few more cards out of an opponents library. Great in a ramp deck. 

9.Phenax, God of Deception  

This is one of my favorite gods and I wish he would work. He turns all your creatures into mindwracking machines but it takes a lot to get him to join the fight. He does, however make milling workable.

10. Psychic Spiral 

Psychic Spiral is best if you can find a way to make your graveyard larger, Dreamborn Muse or Mesmeric Orb can be used to increase the magnitude of this card. 

These cards seem like the most useful milling cards. Other good cards include, Grindclock, Glimpse the Unthinkable, Mind Grind and Archive Trap. I do hope you find this helpful and happy deck building. 

28. Royal Court Part 3

Please send in any requests you have!

Part 1 

Part 2

Liam:
Prince/Maid
You’re sitting on a bench, basking in the summer sun that fills the courtyard; next to you is one of the stable boys, William. He’s making you laugh and smile and for the first time since Liam broke it off, he makes you feel valuable.  “…And before he knew, the pony had tipped him off” he finishes his story, making you laugh, “What’s so funny?”  A voice behind you startles the two of you. Turning you see Liam accompanied by the Italian Countess, Giselle. “Your Majesty” the boy stands quickly bowing to the two of them,  “I was just telling Y/N a story about the French diplomat” the boy looks down at you with a fond smile, something you endeavour to return. Liam continues to look between the two of you, expression unreadable as the woman takes a step closer to him, capturing his attention.
“The stable boy seems nice” Liam comments as you enter his chambers, tray balancing on your hands.  “So does Giselle” you can’t help the bitter comment and you know it’s out of line, but with everything that had happened between you and Liam, you don’t think you care anymore. “She is… Does that bother you?” he asks and you consider turning and leaving but for once you want to fight a battle, so you ignore his question, “Does it bother you that William is nice?” you ask and he’s thoughtful for a moment before breathing out a simple “Yes”. “Why?” you ask, crossing your arms over your chest. “Because I want you” he says truthfully and you realise just how much you weren’t ready for this confrontation. “You had me” your confident facade gone. “And I lost you” he steps towards you, sadness evident in his voice. “Because I can’t give you everything” you tell him, “because I can’t give you everything” he counters, “I would do anything to trade positions with him. To be able to marry you because all that matters is our love, to have children, live our lives out together” and you can imagine that life, it seems so close.  “Why can’t you do that?” you ask, this time stepping towards him, reaching out to break the distance between the two of you. To feel the touch you’ve been craving.  “Because I have to do what’s right for my country” but he moves a little closer again, as if his words mean nothing. “And how do you know I’m not right” you ask. “I don’t” the words ghost over your lips.

Harry:
Kitchen Worker/Princess
You endeavour to push all thoughts of Harry from your mind, ignoring the perfect crunch of the bread served at breakfast that you’re sure he helped with, or the fruits lining the long table. After a few days it appears to be working well, the boy vanishing into nothing but a “one time I made friends with the kitchen hand”. Until you find the wicker basket sitting in front of your door; The contents being three shining apples and a short written note.  These three are without imperfections… made me think of you. Enjoy your majesty, Harry. The handwriting is smooth, more elegant that you would have expected for someone of his status. You pick up the first apple and examine it and he’s right, it’s perfect. You take a bite; feel a pang of guilt over Harry before trying to push the boy from you mind.
The extravagant hall makes you feel a little dizzy, the lights a little too bright, the laughter a little too loud, yet you let the man spin you around in his arms. “Of course our gardens aren’t as extravagant over in Denmark” the man continues with the conversation you’re only pretending to listen to, mind on the note Harry had left you. “Excuse me” you tell the man, pushing away form him and hurrying towards the closest door. You hold your dress up as you run down the stairs of the courtyard, pushing the door to the kitchen open. But it’s empty, the workers having retired for the night. Still, you’re in no mood to return to the party so you take a set at the wooden bench. “Y/N” the voice asks, and you trun to see harry, his face worried, “I heard the door shut, thought maybe the goats got in again. What are you doing here?” he asks. Suddenly all words are gone, You’re not sure why you’re here, you’re not sure why you even wanted to see him, you just know that you did. “ I was wondering if you wanted to go for a walk?” you ask. You’re standing in the middle of a kitchen, in a dress worth your weight in gold, asking the boy who works in the kitchen for a walk and his smile makes you forget it all.  

Louis:
Prince/Princess
“But I don’t love him!” You’re standing in front of your father in his quarters, his face is passive as tears stream down yours. “Y/N we don’t marry for love, we marry for our countries” he tells you and you’ve heard it all before, but somehow it just doesn’t seem believable put into practice. “Let me stay here, let me marry Louis! Make an ally of Wales and England!” you beg, tears spilling down your cheeks. Your father watches you with an eyebrow raised, you had just openly admitted your relationship with Louis. You’re so hopeful as indecision flashes across his face before his stony demeanour returns; “it’s too late Y/N.” And you want to scream at him, tell him you hate him, make him change his mind but you know that will get you nowhere so you run, you run down the winding corridors, through the heavy doors and you don’t stop until you’re shoving open the heavy door to Louis’ room. The slamming startles Louis but it seems to be forgotten the second he see’s your tears, dropping the book he was reading and taking you into his arms, allowing you to bury your face in his chest. His hand gently rubbing your back; “Hush love” he tries to calm you, “It’ll be alright”. “It won’t be alright though,” you cry, pulling back to look up at him, “how could it possible be alright” he wipes away a tear before pressing a gentle kiss to your lips, “We’ll elope, we’ll go to the chapel over the hill this evening and elope” He says it like it’s the simplest idea in the world, like it doesn’t involve deception and lying, like it’s the only option you’ve got and it is. “You’d do that for me?” you ask, aware that elopement wasn’t necessarily held in the highest regard. Shaking his head he smiles down at you, “ I would do anything for you Y/N, anything” and it breaks your heart a little more, because how could you lose this. “Tonight?” you ask. “Tonight, We’ll ride out on horse back” he takes your hands in his, “all I need is you, forever”.

Niall:
Betrothed
Morning seems to take forever to arrive and when it does you feel no better rested than you had the night before. The little sleep you got intertwined with dreams of Niall with faceless women and a loveless marriage. Those images alone enough to encourage you to talk to your father and Niall’s this morning about the impending marriage. You take your time getting dressed, watching yourself in the mirror and imagining a simpler existence than future heir to the throne. Before you can enter the dining hall a hand catches on to yours, spinning you around. “ A dishevelled Niall stands there, face pained, “Please don’t Y/N” he begs as if he knows exactly what you were going to do, “please don’t until I have the chance to explain myself” and even though his soft eyes make your heart melt you know that you have to do it. “ I told you last night Niall, I couldn’t marry someone who won’t even attempt to love me”. “Just take a walk outside with me first, I beg of you” and against your better judgement you nod and follow the blond into the courtyard. The silence that hangs between you is as heavy as the grey clouds overhead and he must sense that because it takes only a moment for him to break the silence. “I wasn’t ready for this, and I don’t know if I am.” you assume he’s talking about marriage, about being joined to you. “I cant promise I will love you Y/N, I can’t promise that until I do, if I do. But you’re right. I need to give us a chance. And I can’t honestly do that unless I am faithful and one hundred percent yours” the words falling out of his mouth makes your heart skip a beat or two, but they also scare you. “So what are you saying?” you ask, stopping in your tracks and searching his eyes for some evidence of deception. “What I am saying is that I am yours, I cannot promise to love you, but I will try” he says, voice sincere and he extends a hand to you, offering you everything, a non-spoken promise. You stare at is as you join you slip your hand into his, noting how they fit together perfectly.

 Zayn:
Soldier/Lady in waiting
“Any word?” you ask your Queen, but she simply dismisses your question with a role of the eyes, sick of you asking everyday. It had been weeks since you’d had word of the battle, and in those weeks you weren’t sure if Zayn was still alive, each day the uncertainty and possibility eating away at you.
You walk through the grounds, something you had done a lot of since Zayn had left. Aimless wandering when you weren’t needed by the queens side, you found it soothed the worrying and now, as word of soldiers returning had arrived this morning you needed to distract yourself. Upon entering the stables to feed he horses apples, you spot the familiar black pony standing in its usually vacant stable. The thoughts don’t quite click, if Zayn’s horse was here where was he?You don’t notice the apples you’re holding hit the ground, you don’t notice the buckling of your knees until you’ve hit the ground, but you don’t feel it, all you feel is the stop of your heart. You knew that the first thing Zayn would do when he arrived was see you, but he hadn’t and his horse was here now and that only meant one thing. The unthinkable entered your mind so you get up and begin your sprint back up the castle steps to find the queen and demand why his horse was back and not Zayn.  “His… his pony is here” you say breathlessly, tears blurring your vision,  “why is his horse here and he’s not!” you demand, feeling your legs shake. You wait for your queen to speak but she doesn’t, instead you are startled by the voice in the corner of the room. “I was coming to find you but I guess you beat me too it” and the voice alone is enough for the relief to come crashing in. you turn and see him, unscathed and smiling, arms held out for you. You waste no time falling into them, wrapping your arms around his neck and holding on tighter than you thought possible. “Can’t believe you thought I could just leave you like that” he chuckles and you give him a particularly hard shove to the chest. “Please don’t leave me again” you cry and he smiles before placing a kiss on your lips. “Don’t think I could even if I tried” he tells you. 

The Eyes Have It

My eyes were full of stories,
hanging in the gallows condemned
where shallow words
were as useless as the writer was.

Bleed your heart they say and put to pen what you fear most.
Commit to the unthinkable and
expunge your mind of the ordinary.

But I am ordinary.

And aside from the wildness of my hair and pomegranate tinged lips,
I could never be anything other than myself.  
Unthinkable,
well maybe
but I make an incredible commitment to the ordinary.

Look, you can see it in my eyes.