soooo what are you looking for in a guy?
kind. sweet. approximately 6'2". ginger. messy hair. wears bow ties and a blue coat. no one can ever figure out THE FUCK his eye color is. has to have solid cheek bones just saying. also jawline. freckles are a thing. wizard. Hufflepuff™. author. magizoologist. is actually Newt Scamander.
For fuck’s sake what the actual fuck is happening why is there a fucking bootleg-Del worm thing near me I was just listening to music what the actual hell is going on are you fucking serious I’m 26 years old and I’m about to shit myself like what the fuck technically I didn’t even have a choice about being in this goddamn band I was like 10 and I didn’t even know my own parents and I was raised by a possessed guy and his ghost friend and a zombie looking blue haired twat and an actual goddamn satanist like how the fuck did I even grow up nicely with these arseholes I just wanna dance and have fun like what the fuck even happened I got fucking gunned down and replaced with a fucking robot and now I’m a goddamn adult woman and I’m still dealing with this shit I’m too tired for this what the fuck even is this snake looking fuck get away from me what the actual fuck I’m going to piss myself what the fuck. what the fuckk
you thought i forgot about sakacchan? i can never forget ✧sakacchan✧
for a friend‘s kissing prompt: needing to kiss to hide from bad guys** (but there weren’t really any bad guys, they trespassed into their school in the wee hours of night to save a stray pup from other doggos and the guards caught them – almost. sakamoto got a little carried away heh)
basically the start of my “hair” journey, when I stopped straightening my hair. I remember when I would feel really insecure every time I went to the beach or pool and wet my hair. I used to feel ugly whenever my natural hair would show bc people would tell me that straight hair was prettier and looked better on me. But ever since I stopped straightening my hair and wore my natural curls I’ve felt way more confident than I ever did with my straight hair. I’m actually pretty proud of them now and idk I just wanted to share my progress with you guys.. So no matter what anyone says: your natural hair is beautiful whether it’s straight, curly, wavy, or anything in between.
Request: Can you do a grant imagine were he and the reader are being interviewed together but haven’t ever met (like on James corden were they interview multiple people at once) and she’s an actress on stranger things and they are asked about both of there shows and after the interview her and grant exchange numbers and eventually start dating
Don’t hate me, but I actually don’t watch Stranger Things so I know nothing about the show…. Umm… Sorry… I changed it to Supergirl instead, I hope you don’t mind..
Um… guys… I was thinking about doing a Zoom Imagine next? Maybe?
REQUESTS ARE OPEN! (be sure to read my bio tho!)
I hope you enjoy!
You were being fussed over by the talk show’s prep team. They were ruffling your hair while adding powder to your face and neck. A man stood next to you and gave you a warm smile. You knew this man as he did guest star in one of your show’s, Supergirl, episodes. “Nice to see you again.” Grant smiled. When he was on set, you didn’t really get to speak to him outside of set. He was busy on his show and it was just one episode he made an appearance in. The two of you tried to make plans with the rest of your cast but the plans had always been rainchecked due to conflict in schedules.
“Likewise, Gustin.” You said as you jokingly bumped his hip with yours. “We finally get to do an interview together.”
“Crazy.” Grant nodded. And then he was called off to the stage as they were already airing. “That’s my cue. See you in a few seconds.” He patted your arm before heading off onstage. Your hand covered the exposed skin he had touched; goosebumps had risen from your arm, most likely an affect Grant had on you. Hey, what can you say? He’s an attractive man who has a bright personality that makes girl swoon.
They called you and you ran onto stage, the crowd cheering. “Now Grant, I interviewed you last year.” The interviewer stated and Grant nodded in agreement. “But (Y/N), I never had the chance to. You’re actually the first cast member of Supergirl that I get to interview. Hope I don’t screw up.” You along with the crowd chuckled. “Now, let’s all pretend Grant isn’t here and let’s faun over (Y/N). That dress is lovely.” You gave him a polite thank you. “Is this more comfortable than the Wonder Woman costume you wear on Supergirl?”
You gave a playful smile before shaking your head. “My job is awesome, especially with the uniform I have to wear.” You winked into the camera and the crowd burst out into laughter. “But in realness, yes, this along with many of my outfits on Supergirl is a lot more comfortable than the Wonder Woman costume.”
“Grant, we’re paying attention to you now.” Grant laughed as the interviewer changed subjects. “You said that there’s a system to get into the Flash costume?”
Grant nodded. “It used to take like forty minutes to an hour to get into that. And then I’d wear it for like ever in the heat.”
“It rubs everything?” You smirked at him and Grant’s cheeks turned a light shade of pink. It suited him.
“Does yours?” He challenged.
“Oh yeah.” You answered along with another wink.
After a few more questions about your shows, the interviewer switched to more personal questions. “Now, I have to know and this is our final question. Who is your celebrity crush?” He asked the two of you.
Without thinking, on both your parts, the two of you responded with:
The interviewer gave a proud look. “I ship it.” And the whole room went into hysterics. After ending the show, the two of you headed off to your own destinations. You were contemplating running to Grant and asking for his number. But would that make you look too desperate? A million questions zipped through your mind until you decided to be bold and you swiftly turned around to run to him only to run into a wall.
“Sorry!” Grant apologized, helping you steady your balance. He rubbed the back of his neck. “Sorry, I just wanted to see-I mean know- if you uh… Wanted to hang sometime?” You thought he said it so confidently but in Grant’s mind he was face palming.
You gave him a sweet smile. “Just what I was going to ask you.” You two then exchanged numbers.
-=3 years later=-
The same interviewer clapped and the audience sat in anticipation. “Ladies and gentlemen, this dynamic duo has us all falling in love with their relationship. Let’s welcome Grant Gustin and (Y/N) (Y/L)!” The two of you situated yourselves and the interviewer’s first question was, “How does it feel to be the future Mrs. Grant Gustin, (Y/N).”
“Amazing. I’m marrying my Celebrity Crush.” You smiled as Grant intertwined your hands.
* Alexander Hamilton × Reader
* 66: how about we put the gun down and let’s talk about this?
A/N: Alright y'all, another long one. This one was lots of fun. I loved the prompt and got an idea in seconds. Oh and there is swearing in this, quite bit actually.
Btw you guys are amazing and you liking and such makes my day ❤
How you actually made it this far, you’ll never know. You chopped your hair. You wrapped your chest. You wanted to fight so that’s what you did. How dare the ignorant colonies try and leave? The king was kind enough to give them some freedom and they declared independence?
You fought and served to teach them respect. Not only that but you were a good soldier and climbed quickly through the ranks. You we second only to the general of your battalion. “Smith.” Someone called. You looked. It was the general calling your assumed last name. You quickly walked to him.
“Sir?” You saluted. You were a good soldier and a respectable one. You didn’t climb ranks only by killing.
“Relax soldier.” He told you. “We got word of an attack planned by the rebels. I can count on you in the front line correct?” He asked.
“Yes sir.” You said with a grin. “Let’s take ‘em out.”
You were ready and waiting. The rebels would get in sight, the cannons would fire, then the soldiers would open fire. Simple. Easy. Cause choas, then cut them down.
You saw some blue coats in the distance. The rebels had no set uniform but some soldiers were able to get war coats. The sight of them made you snarl. As they got closer you heard the cannon’s fuse being lit. Any second now.
A bang, smoke, and screams. Gunfire rang out from all sides. As you were spotted from your cover in a trench the army broke apart and ran forward.
You were firing and running. Fighting and winning. Suddenly you saw a soldier struggling with his bayonet. You smiled and walked towards him.
“Shit. Unjam now!!” He struggled from where he was squatted for some attempted cover. “This is not how you gain a battalion of your own.” He grumbled still struggling.
“Need a hand?” You asked, gun pointed right at him.
He shot up and turned to you. He was shorter than most soldiers, still taller than you however. His dark hair was pulled back into a ponytail. He had his hands held out from his sides, his bayonet was in one hand.
“Hey…” he said nervously. “How about we put the gun down and let’s talk about this?” He asked, he begged.
“And why should I?” You asked enjoying the fear in him. Not to mention the power you had over him.
“Well I can’t defend myself. That would be a sorry way to go. A man should die with a gun in his hand in war. Otherwise it’s like killing an innocent man.” He argued.
“You are not innocent!” You snarled. “You leave the king that is kind to you. You wish to run a country on your own? You would crash and burn without him watching over you.”
“Then it would be killing a man without honor.” He tried again. This made you pause so he continued. “You may not see me as innocent but is it truly honorable to kill a man when he is defenseless?”
You slowly lowered your gun. “I see you on the field and you’re dead in seconds you scum.” You threatened.
“Sounds fair.” He agreed. Suddenly another cannon fired. “Look out!” The man screamed. He grabbed you around the waist and pulled you back. You felt intense heat near you and a sudden pain in your stomach.
The cannon caused an explosion right where you had been standing. Not only that but shot shrapnel everywhere, including lodging itself in your side. You groaned.
“Shit!” The man said. “Hold still.” He commanded, attempting to help.
“Don’t you dare touch me!” You ground out between clenched teeth.
“Then you’ll die! I’m not gonna sit here and watch you bleed out so hold still!” He shouted.
“No!” You shouted. You couldn’t be figured out now, much less by a rebel with some compassion.
“I will knock you out if I have to.” He said sternly. You were in no place to fight back and the struggle already cause you immense pain. You gave up and laid back on the ground. “This will hurt but I have to do this.” He said. He grabbed the metal and pulled.
Shit that hurt! You could feel blood covering your uniform now that the metal was no long holding the blood in. The man pressed something to the wound and you whimpered at the pressure. “Hold that if you can please.” He commanded and guided you hand to it. You were getting weaker but you pressed as hard as you could manage.
He started to unbutton your uniform and you tried struggling again. “Hey you’re making it wosre. You have nothing to but a dirty rag holding the blood in. Fighting me will make you bleed out faster.” He told you.
You sighed. This couldn’t be happening. He grabbed the rag back from you and pulled back the sides of the uniform. “Shit this is bad.” He said. The lower half of your undershirt was red with blood, with was still coming from the wound. And you felt yourself grow weaker still.
He lifted you undershirt so it rested above the wound. You felt as he peeled it up away from your stomach to move it so it wouldn’t brush the wound. He pressed the cloth against it again pulling another wimper from you. You heard a tearing sound. You could see him tearing his own undershirt to make bandages as the coat was too thick to tear.
He folded some cloth and placed it over the wound. “I’ll take you back to camp and get some real bandages over this.” He tied the scraps of clothes together and started winding them around your body. You needed to lift up you stomach when he needed to get it around you, and that was agony. He finally had it tight around you and tied it off. “Alright. Let’s take this bloody shirt off.”
“No. No. It’s fine.” You argued.
“Come on that can’t be comfortable.” He said.
“It’s fine.” You insisted.
“Can you stand?” He asked.
“I’ve got a hole torn through me! No I can’t stand!” It was getting harder to breathe.
“Alright I’ll have to carry you. How to do it without pressing the wound?” He wondered. “Alright, sorry about this but I have to carry you bridal style.” You groaned at the embarrassment of this. He went to pick you up. “Hang on.” He said. He moved your shirt a bit more and you realized he must have seen your wrapping. “Shit. You’re a women!” He exclaimed.
You couldn’t even tell him he was being sexist as you blacked out.
You woke up with a groan. You were no longer on the ground but in a bed. And not in a tent either but a room. You sat up, painfully but you still managed to get upright. You looked at your stomach.
You had clean bandages on and while pressing a hand to the wound you could tell it had been stitched up. What the hell happened? And where were you? You looked around. The most notable thing was a desk with paper everywhere. Seriously, it was covering the damn thing and some was even in the floor.
The door walked in and the soldier from the field was walking in. “Oh you’re awake.” He said. “Man the lies we told to get you here. I had to have a friend tell the general I found a women who was injured by a stray gunshot and was taking her to my home to treat her. Only two people know your secret.”
“Why did you save me?” You finally asked. “You could’ve, and should have, let me bleed out and die on the ground.”
“You spared me when you should have killed me. I owed you the same debt.” He said.
“You don’t even know me.” You said. “I’m the enemy and we should hate each other.”
“Well I’m Alexander Hamilton. If I’m not a soldier then I’m an aspiring lawyer.” He said holding out his hand.
“Y/N L/C.” You said tentatively. “I used to work in a tea shop but that won’t be happening again.”
“I’m needed but you’ll stay here if you’re smart. I’ve been checking. You’re declared deceased at this point. You’ll stay that way until you’re healed. You’ll probably then become a prisoner for exchange.” He explained. “That’s the only way to get you safely back.”
“How have you been checking?” You asked. His eyes got wide at what he admitted. “There’s a bloody spy!” You exclaimed. He only left and didn’t answer. “Rebel scum.” You snarled.
That Hamilton was right. You couldn’t leave the bed for days. You couldn’t make it out of the room for weeks. But Hamilton was there to care for you. He brought you food and checked your wound. You had to admit he wasn’t too bad.
One day he was out and you slowly got up from the bed. You walked to the cluttered desk. Some days he’d sit here a write while keeping get you company.
“What are you always writing?” You asked the thin air. You sat down and began reading. At first you had rage growing in you. Freedom and revolution. That was what these were about. But after a while you just felt sorrow for the rebels.
They wanted this. They wanted this desperately. And they even had some good reasons. This Alexander could change your mind with his words.
You were so caught up that when the door open you gasped in surprise. “Y/N are you ok?” He asked and coming down to crouch in front of you.
“Of course why wouldn’t I-” you stopped when he reached up and brushed your cheek. His fingers were wet. You reached up. You’d been crying. “You guys really want freedom.” You said quietly.
“Yes we do.” He said.
“I never realized. I thought you were ungrateful and didn’t deserve it.” You admitted.
“We thought the British were entitled and conceded.” He admitted with a shrug. You laughed.
“Maybe there is a wrong side to the war.” You said.
“Maybe.” He agreed.
A few weeks later you could walk better and easily. One day Alexander came back happily. “Problem solved.” He said.
“Problem?” You asked.
“We had a battle today. We have a few prisoners. We’re exchanging them tomorrow. We slip you in and you get back to your side.” He concluded.
“Wait what?” You asked.
“We’re getting you back to your side. They’ll probably still let you rest but you’ll be back with your people.”
“Oh my people?” You asked agrilly. “My entitled and conceded people huh?”
He recoiled. “I thought you wanted this.”
“Oh believe me, I do.” You shot back. You went back to the room and grabbed your washed uniform. You put it on, feeling better to have it on once more.
Hamilton walked you to his camp late that night. He walked you to a hostage hold, an old church. He unlocked a back door and walked you in. “Well this is then.” He said with a shrug. All the prisoners were in another room.
“Yes it is Rebel Scum.” You growled.
He scoffed. “Loyalist Bitch.” He said.
“Excuse you?!” You snapped.
“I saved your damn life and you can’t even manage a thank you!” He exclaimed.
“Maybe when you deserve one.” You glared.
“Ugh! You know what? I’m glad you’re leaving.” He said.
“And I’ll be glad to be gone.” You told him. With that you left to join your men.
The next day you walked back across war lines and were with the British again. You glanced back at the soldier in the blue coat and sighed. It wasn’t Hamilton but he was fighting for the same ideals.
Everyone was thrilled you were back. They had you on rest for a few weeks. The men recounted what they had done to the ‘ungrateful bastard rebels’ and you told them to shut up. Everyone was tip-toeing around you and your moodiness. You no longer felt like you belonged with them. Not when you understood the reb-americans, you corrected yourself.
You didn’t sleep well anymore. All you could think of was Hamilton and the time spent together. His laugh and words. You had read many of his papers and he had asked your opinion on some of them. He had power with words and you missed they way you two would talk.
Eventually you were ready for battle once more. Well, healthy enough. You didn’t know if you kill any of the opposing soldiers. “Smith.” The general called you over. You were back living a lie. Hamilton always called you by name as you didn’t have to hide with him.
“Sir?” You asked.
“No salute?” He asked.
“Oh sorry, Sir!” You exclaimed and snapped to attention with a salute.
“I’m only joking with you Smith. Forgetting a salute is no problem. Expecially after being held hostage. I can’t imagine what you’ve been through.” He told you.
“No Sir you can’t.” You said thinking more of the emotional battle you were going through.
“You didn’t happen to gain any insight while you were there did you?” He asked.
The spy! You had completely forgot. Then you remembered all of Alexander’s words and reasoning for revolution.
“No Sir I didn’t.” You told him.
“Hm, that’s too bad. Well anyway. Your back as a cadet, your position was taken in your absense.”
You couldn’t believe it. You were almost killed and they give away your spot. And they don’t even return it either. “Conceded.” You muttered before realizing that’s what Hamilton thinks of this whole army.
You went to battle. Running and not fighting. Hiding and not dying. You couldn’t fire a single shot anymore. Damn Hamilton had turned you against your own men. Then you saw him.
His bayonet was working this time. He was reloading it. He hadn’t seen you. He was taking aim when you saw it. A man in red to his side taking aim. You threw you’re gun down and jumped up. “Hamilton!” You screamed. He spun, confused. You jumped on him and tackled him. The bullet flew over you.
He flipped you off of him and took aim and shot the soldier who fired. He stood, grabbed your hand, pulled up and back to your former hiding place. “What was that about you Loyalist?” He asked, he growled.
“I…I don’t know. I saw him taking aim and couldn’t let you die.” You admitted.
“Stay here please. Don’t get yourself killed out there.” He begged.
So you stayed. He never went far, always defending your hiding space and you. When a cease fire was called he walked back over.
“Y/N please stop fighting. I don’t want you to die.” He told you. “Look, we have leave tonight. Go to my home. We can talk when we get there.” He pressed a key to your hand.
“I can’t. Not in this.” You gestured to your coat. He held out his. You slipped yours off and his on. It smelt so good. Like ink and paper. He took a knife and started shredding your coat. “Wait. Do you always carry a knife?” You asked.
“Only since my bayonet stopped working.” He said with a smirk. “OK go. They’ll find your coat and make their own assumption. Oh and,” he paused and grabbed your hat. He slid his knife through it. He took his and placed it on your head. “There.” He smiled at you. “It all looks better on you anyway.” He realized what he just said and went red in the face. “I mean better than that hideous red.”
You were sitting and waiting for Hamilton to get back. He finally walked in and noticed you had yet to take his coat off. He decided not to mention it. “Ok. What the hell happened out there?” He asked.
“You turned me you rebel!” You yelled and jumped up.
“Huh?” He asked.
“I don’t know but somehow you managed to get me to sympathize. I couldn’t kill your men but I couldn’t agree with mine anymore. There is a wrong side to the war and I was on it.” You said and dropped back down.
“What do you mean?” He asked, taking a seat next to you.
“We are entitled and conceded. You guys fight for an honorable cause. You were the right side.” You admitted. “But I can’t very well fight the British either. They were my men and my fellow soldiers.” You told him.
“Damn right you can’t fight them” he told you.
“Huh?” You were confused by his outburst.
“I’m not letting you fight again. I don’t want you to get hurt. You almost died once, I won’t let that happen again. When you were back with the British I worried everyday. And when we got to battle I was worried you’d get killed, or worse that I’d kill you without recognizing you.” He told you, looking at his feet and not you.
“Alexander what are you saying?” You asked.
“I’m saying I care about you and don’t want to lose you. I’m saying that if you’re sure about being on the wrong side of the war that’d like to be with you.” He admitted, finally looking at you.
You blushed. Men don’t make you blush, you thought. They think they’re better than you, but Alexander was different. It’s almost as if he sees you as an equal. You composed yourself and smirked.
“Well, if that’s the case…” you trailed off.
“Wha-” you cut him off before he could get the word out by pressing your lips to his. He wrapped an arm around you and pulled you closer.
If you’re on testosterone and you have some facial hair but not as much as you’d like and it causes dysphoria here’s a tip. I have some facial hair and you can definitely see it but I didn’t think I had very much but now I know I actually have more than I thought. I bought one of those 10x face magnifying handheld mirrors that you use to look at your pores/acne. The mirror really shows my face up close and it also shows my facial hair! With the mirror I’m able to see how much facial hair I really have even if all of it isn’t quite noticeable yet. This really helps with my dysphoria and shows me that yes I have facial hair and even more than I thought I did! It’s coming in slowly but surely. So I thought this tip might help other guys that are on T with the same problem. You can get one of these pore magnifying mirrors at Walmart and they only cost a couple dollars. So if you think this would help you try it out for yourself!
This by way of saying that I watched Loving with my mother tonight
This is…something I don’t talk about all that often on this blog, partly because I don’t think I talk about me that often. The actual facts of my life, that is, not just what tv shows and movies and books I like.
Did you guys know I’m biracial?
My mother’s Chinese; my father’s white. Loving vs. Virginia was settled by the Supreme Court in 1967. My mother was eleven; my father was thirteen.
I am not what people think of when they think of biracial children, because my mother is Chinese and not black. My hair is too straight, my skin is too pale–my skin is too white. I am too white, the way I look. But I’m ‘ethnic’ enough that people ask me what I am in the supermarket, on the street outside the train station, at every school I’ve ever been to, when I’m on the desk at work. They guess Greek, Latina, Filipina, Hawaiian, American Indian. You know what they don’t guess? Halfie. I tell them I’m Chinese; they say, really? I have to explain, every time: no, only half.
In my family we don’t talk about our problems, but I know the word miscegenation because of the way my mother says anti-miscegenation like it’s caught between her teeth.
Loving is a good movie. I think I would’ve liked it any day, in any company, but watching mother watch it was more emotional than watching the movie itself. There’s a moment in the beginning–a police officer tells Richard Loving how disgusting he finds him. He says something like, “your blood doesn’t know what to be.” I’m paraphrasing, because I don’t remember the line, exactly–what I remember is my mother’s full-body flinch, the way she tucked her arms tighter around her body and bit her lip.
My mother’s mother told her not to marry anyone but an ABC–American Born Chinese. That no one else would understand her. When my mother moved in with my father, my grandfather disowned her, for a little while. My grandmother cried, hard.
One of my mother’s coworker’s watched Hidden Figures and told her, wonderingly, that she’d been a child then, that she remembered John Glenn and Friendship 7, but she’d never really associated segregation and the Civil Rights Movement with her time. My mother said all she could do was stare, that it took everything she had to keep from saying, I could not have married my husband then, and you didn’t even know? You don’t remember?
This is a lot, in a post that’s supposedly about a movie, so–so this by way of saying that I’m angry. This by way of saying that I am fucking enraged, that people get to not know, to think of all of this as so long ago, and then still not be able to look at me and think biracial. This by way of saying that I cannot believe that people can disbelieve me when I say I’m Chinese in one breath, and in the next, push segregation and racism and anti-miscegenation laws to the long ago past. This by way of saying–
Do you want to know when I flinched?
Richard Loving asks his lawyers what defense Virginia will mount, to uphold the laws that say he can’t be married to his wife, and they say, your children. They say that the state of Virginia will argue before the Supreme Court that it is unfair to bring mixed children into the world.
Unfair to whom, I wonder? I think they mean to the children. Their children, my parents’ children, me, whose blood doesn’t know what to be.
Does my blood know what to be?
A few years ago, I was talking about racism, and my mother asked me if I’d rather be all Chinese or all white, and I said, yes.
In my entire life, I have never felt white enough or Asian enough or American enough, but that isn’t my parents’ fault. Not for getting married, not for wanting children, not for bringing me and my sister into the world. Do you know whose fault it is?
“Survey the Heavens, Open the Heavens” I am the ruler of the stars”
My interpretation of one magic, I suppose. I’ve always liked the idea of Lucy sacrificing herself for Natsu through one magic. I’ve always loved the idea of her with shorter hair and I still wish for it to this day.
Ahh, hold on, @snogfairy just got back from greece. This is for her. I can’t wait for more of the pics from your vacay phi!
My first attempt at drawing SnowBaz! I am actually really proud of this one! ^.^
I know Baz is a vampire, but I wanted him to look a little like his mum, so his skin is a few shades darker.
(I actually like the idea of his skin getting paler the longer he goes without hunting? And then returning to its natural color? Idk what do you guys think?) Also, shorter hair for Baz and tamer curls for Simon are just my personal preference…oops
Per usual, I have a transparent version as well, so send me an ask if you’d like to see it ^o^ I did use some references, but none of them had a credited artist :(
Don’t repost without credit/permission please! (As if you’d want to lol)