i feel i blocked it from my mind

anonymous asked:

dont tag your shitty sheith as art because then it shows up in the tracked art tag and makes me, a fucking minor, want to take my own eyes out! :) tag it as my art and thats fucking it you dick

It’s tagged as art because it’s just part of my filing system on my blog. If I receive gift art from other RPers, I also tag it as art (whether it’s a submission or reblog.) Feel free to block me and remember to blacklist the sheith tag. I’ll continue tagging it as such because art is subjective and even purposely made to be controversial and make people uncomfortable. (Goya being the first to come to my mind and that’s a famous painter.) Take precaution when venturing through the art tag.

7/100 days of productivity 

hello again guys! so recently i’ve been wanting to do some cool posts with tips and stuff but my mind is just blank and blocked and I want your opinions! what kind of posts would you like to see? let me know in the comments below please, this blog is also yours! 

by the way guys, yesterday I was listening to a really cool playlist for studying on spotify and I found a MASTERPIECE. is the main theme song from the movie “the imitation game” and it’s just soo good, like I dont even know how to explain the feelings this song gives me. 

studygram: yangstudies

🎧 the imitation game - alexander desplat 

2

The minute he enters your room, Charles notices a definite change in the atmosphere. He can’t tell if it’s good or bad. “(y/n)?”

“In here,” your voice calls from the bathroom. Charles follows your voice to see you standing at the counter, brushing your hair. He smiles at you fondly and leans in the doorway.

That’s when he notices it. Notices what’s different.

You aren’t blocking him from your mind today. After a year of knowing each other, (y/n) finally trusts him enough to let him in.

“I can feel you in my mind, Charles,” you say softly but not accusingly, turning to face the man.

His face reddens slightly. “Sorry. I won’t if-”

“No,” you cut him off. “It’s okay. I want you to look. Well I don’t exactly want you to, but…you can.” You step forward and take his hand in yours. “I trust you.”

The corner of his mouth twitches up in a smile, and he brings his hand up to cup your cheek. “Are you sure?” At your nod, he moves his hand up instead so his fingers are on your temple. You watch as his eyes flutter shut, and you close yours too.

He sees your childhood: You running from bullies in the school yard, and then a teenage you running away from an abusive foster home. He sees you being beat on the streets of Chicago, begging for food on the street sides and giving blankets to other homeless that you found.

You, alone, cold, and scared, trying to learn to harness your telekinesis in the dead of winter.

But then it’s like all of the negativity washes away.

The hues from the scenes shift from dark to light when Charles finds you on the street, comforting you and talking to you in a way that immediately makes you trust him. Flash through your rehabilitation to full health at the academy, scenes of you and Charles working and walking through the grounds together. So many scenes of you and him together.

When he opens his eyes, it’s to see your beautiful (e/c) ones staring back into his. “(y/n)-”

You cut him off by tilting your head up and pressing your lips to his. He freezes in shock, and after a second or two of him not kissing back, you pull away abruptly. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry I shouldn’t have-”

Now it’s his turn to cut you off by taking your hand and pulling you back into him, kissing you passionately. You sink into his warm embrace as he strokes your hair, and you wrap your arms around his shoulders. He pulls away first for air, and you open your eyes to see him smiling at you.

“I’m glad you let me in today.”

buzzfeed.com
Kansas school board passes anti-transgender bathroom law inspired by Trump
“Trump was basically leaving it up to us.”
By Dominic Holden

Last week, a school board in Kansas voted to ban transgender students from using school bathrooms that affirm their gender identity. 

The ban had actually been in place last year before the Obama administration released its guidelines supporting trans students in schools, at which point the school board decided to follow that policy. But since Trump rescinded those guidelines, the school board went back to its transphobic ways. 

If you’re already angry (and you should be), this interview will make it worse:

“Trump was basically leaving it up to us,” Tina Prunier, a member of the Derby Board of Education, told BuzzFeed News in explaining her vote in favor of the rule. “I thought it would be best for the district overall.” […]

In an interview, Prunier had a hard time explaining her vote to block transgender students from certain restrooms, other than saying that Trump allowed the district to do so, and that it was the district’s best interest.

“To be quite honest, it’s not something I have gone over in my mind,” she replied when asked why she said it was best for her district. “It’s not something I feel strongly one way or another about — their personal rights or how they wish to be.”

Her vote reflected community values, she said, adding that it wasn’t actually her motivation. “The parents were very vocal that they were not happy,” she explained. “We mostly heard about a male going into a female bathroom to violate or do things they weren’t supposed to be doing in the restroom.”

Asked if there were any such incidents, she replied, “As far I know, none have been reported.”

I want to scream. This is a damn nightmare.

I expected you to text me.
I don’t really know why I expected the glow of my phone to reflect your name. I guess I was just used to it. I was used to seeing that spark in your eyes light every time you looked at me. I was used to being part of your life. I was used to having something with you. I don’t know how to be a stranger. I don’t know how to not be important to you. I guess I should have known when you blocked me that that was the end. I should have known that it was your way of removing me from your life. I should know this. I do know this but I have no idea how to accept that I don’t cross your mind anymore. I don’t know how to accept that when you look at me you don’t feel anything when just two months ago your gaze engulfed my entire being. I know that you’re not good for me. I know that you brought nothing but pain into my life. But even with all that pain, every time I close my eyes all I can see is your beautiful face. All I can see is your warm brown eyes meeting mine, sharing a look only the two of us understood. I don’t know how to not look for you in a crowd. I don’t know how to not think of you every second of every day. I don’t know how to want to forget you. All these boys I talk to every day can’t compare to you. I search for you in each one of them and then I walk away because I can’t ever seem to be satisfied with the little pieces of you that they resemble. And I can’t stand the thought that another girl is making you smile, that another girl is the reason for your happiness, it makes me sick to think of you talking to her the way you used to talk to me, and it kills me to imagine you holding another girl the way you once held me. I think of all the opportunities that I had to be with you and how I hesitated each time, telling myself I would have more time and more opportunities in the future to do what I wanted. I guess I should have known that I was lying to myself, that I was putting everything off thinking that if I prolonged it, I would somehow be able to keep you forever, that the end of you and me would come slower if I took my time. I remember dancing around my room and singing at the top of my lungs while talking to you and I remember how happy I was and now I look at how different things are and I wish with every fiber of my being that I could go back to those times and do it all over again. Do it right. I guess what I really want to say is that I miss you. I miss you so much and I wish that things could be different but we each made our choices and there’s no going back now.
—  everything i want him to know but will never tell him

Friendly PSA:

Do not keep people in your life who don’t allow you to be yourself. This is something that kept me from loving who I am for years. I would feel bad about every single aspect of myself. They made fun of my sexuality, my goals, my interest, etc. Don’t date them. Don’t keep them as friends. Their words bury into your mind and eat away at you overtime. You deserve people in your life who love you. My life has improved so much from cutting people like that out. If you have to block them do it. Do whatever you need to free yourself from that abusive situation.

About Allura’s age:

I understand there has been a lot of discourse in the Voltron fandom regarding Allura’s canon age, and whether it makes the Shallura ship inappropriate or not. 

As someone who has shipped Shallura from the beginning and still does, I just wanted to offer my perspective:

Early on when I started to get into the show, I would watch interviews with the different cast members to get a better perspective on the characters.  This video, in particular, gave me a good idea of an approximate age for Princess Allura based on what Kimberly Brooks, Allura’s voice actress, says about her character in the clip. 

At around minute 1:20, after Ms. Brooks gives us information about who Allura is and what her backstory is, she has the following exchange with her fellow cast mates:

Kimberly: “And she looks really hot while she’s doing it!”

Jeremy: “Yeah! Oh totally! Oh for sure!

Bex: “Serious jealousy right now.”

Jeremy: “She sounds really hot too! Not gonna lie.”

Rhys: “She’s the full package. That’s what we say in the biz. The full package.”

Bex: She may be 10,000 years old but you couldn’t tell by looking at her. 

Kimberly: She doesn’t look a day over, what? … (sorry this part was unintelligible; it sounds like she says 30???? Edit: I think she’s saying, “what, what is she?”)

Bex: 20

Kimberly: Yeah! 

So, based on this exchange, this is where I got the impression that Allura was meant to be seen as a young adult, likely around the age of 20. (Or at least the Altean equivalent thereof). 

In turn, if you also interpreted her character in the same way, I wouldn’t say that you were wrong to do so, given that it seems to be the same impression that the voice actors and actresses that work on the show were given about her character as well. 

Furthermore, this doesn’t really contradict with the recent information that we were given from the interview with the producers.  We were not specifically told that Allura was a teenager, but simply that she was “just as young as everyone else.”  If Allura is meant to be a young adult around the age of 20 or even as young as 18,  then this means that she’s still going through some of the same internal conflicts and struggles that the younger paladins go through:  She’s still trying to form her own identity and find her way in life, so a lot of her decisions and reactions to different situations will not be as refined as an older, more wizened leader’s would be. (As we can see with her reaction to finding out about Keith’s Galra heritage.) 

Likewise, to address an issue that has been mentioned very frequently, I don’t believe the creators established her as the age that she is (and based on the information that we’ve been given so far, that age doesn’t seem to be very concrete) for “shipping purposes”, but more so to offer us a better perspective on Allura’s character: It allows her to be old enough so that she can be the leader that she needs to be for Team Voltron, but also young enough so that we can still grow with her as a character and watch her blossom into her leadership role. 

That’s really about it and likely all I’ll have say on this “age discourse”.  In general, I try to keep my blog positive and discourse free, but I did want to clarify that, as a Shallura shipper, I am not shipping a minor/adult relationship but, based on information that I’ve been given in the context of the show and from other sources, a relationship that I believe to be between two consenting adults. 

If me shipping Shallura makes you uncomfortable, however, feel free to unfollow me, or block me, or do whatever you have to do to make the Voltron fandom a safe space for you.  I don’t mind and I will understand if you choose to do so. 

And, at the end of the day, let’s just be kind to one another.  You don’t know what’s going on in the lives of the other people behind the computer screen. 

Alright? Alright. :) 

The One That Got Away

<Hopefully I’m doing this right and it isn’t too terribly long…>

The humans don’t talk about the Fair Folk they notice, so none of them seem to think about the ones that don’t reveal themselves. We don’t exist - never have, never will.

I’m one of the younger Fair Folk at only 87 years old. My abilities lie in shape-changing and glamours, and I like to blend into the background. Because of this I can ensure that my features are normal; I have the proper parts - no more or less, and my hair and eyes are a perfectly normal brown and green respectively. In short, I look like a normal human girl.
I guess that’s why the actual human girl felt comfortable approaching me. I’d been sitting in the library reading when she walked right up to me and introduced herself.
“Hey, I’m Melody. What are you called?” (No one ever asks what your name is. Answering truthfully would be as unwise as lying. It’s one of the first “customs” that incoming students learn about.)
“I suppose I’m called Siné.” I don’t know what to think of this bold, blue-haired, dark-skinned girl. Her eyes are a lovely shade of blue-grey.
“Neat name. So what’s your major? English somethin’?” She gestures toward the book I’m holding. It’s Shakespeare and I’d been considering Taking it for my collection.
Instead of answering, I shrug. She seems to think that I’m a student, and I’m certainly not going to correct her.
Rather than getting suspicious, she takes it as a yes. “That must be fun! I’m a double major in the arts - Music Theory and Creative Writing.”
Interesting. Such a clever and creative mind she must have… “You write and you compose?”
“Yeah…” She blushes. “It’s really fun but also really stressful. Especially here.”

In the end, we talk until the library clocks have moved forward several hours. The clocks outside have probably marked less than 45 minutes since she introduced herself.

(“Why did you come over anyway?” - “It’s been hard settling in. I’m from southern Louisiana, so I don’t know anyone here. Everyone else is too scared of the… forest… to talk to strangers, but you don’t seem to mind.”)

She invites me to her room when the librarian starts glaring at us.

(“I need feedback on my latest piece. How do you feel about the fiddle?” - “It’s a lovely instrument and I’d be honored to hear you play.”)

I was right, she is very creative. The Shakespeare is back in the library, but some of her sheet music goes missing. The other Fae try to find her, but her room is blocked from Their sight. They’ll just have to be content with listening.
That night, I enroll as an English major and arrange to be roommates with her. Melody’s original roommate gets moved to another building. The humans assume I’m a late transfer, and the other Fae don’t care.

Eventually, she learns enough of the Rules to understand why she still can’t find her music, no matter how hard she looks. After that, it all gets locked inside a hawthorn box with an iron lock within a circle of salt. She tells me this while complaining that she worked hard on that music and it’d be nice if They’d at least left a note or something.
The next morning, she finds a politely worded and complimentary letter on her desk. It has no signature. The music is not returned.

Months pass while we grow closer. I go everywhere with her; we have writing classes together (I try to see what she writes, but the angle is bad), and I wait outside her music classes (at least I can listen to her play). When she goes to a party, I’m always by her side. She dances sometimes, and I’m always watching. Eventually she stops going to parties.
One night she shares her stories with me and I have to fight the urge to Take her as I listen to grand tales of adventure and magic. It’s good that she wears enough iron to stop me.
The other students start to notice that we’re inseparable. So do the Gentry.

The Fair Folk never stopped looking for the musician whose performances hold the entire campus in awe of their beauty. They just could never find her until they saw how I favored Melody. After that, it was a simple matter for them to peel back my protections and confirm their suspicions.
I should have Taken her while I had the chance. I would have taken care of her, given her anything she wanted in exchange for her creations.
The students aren’t surprised when we both disappear one night.

It’s easy enough to find Melody. She’s inside a golden cage in front of the entire Court of Underhill. A Fae made of sharp edges and glitter is using her like a puppet, forcing her to play. Their magic shines like silver threads as it wraps around her hands.
I’m about to act when Melody speaks.
“Are you happy with this? Because this is all you’ll ever get from me again. Old music, old tales. I’ll give you nothin’ new while I’m trapped here.” Her hands keep moving, but it’s obviously only by rote.
The Fae tilts their head. “I could just kill you.” A string of magic twitches toward her mouth before disappearing once more.
“You could. Why should I care? If I stay, I’m dead no matter what.” I couldn’t be prouder or more scared. This could set her free, or it could get her killed. If this goes wrong, I’ll just have to step in like I’d been planning.
“Aren’t you scared?” The Fae rests fingers like knives around her throat. “You’re in mortal peril. Don’t you want to live?” The only thing keeping her alive is the curiosity of Fair Folk.
“Course I wanna live. But I’m not going to get to if I stay. You’ll make me a caged bird; you already have. This’ll kill me as sure as anythin’ else.” Her eyes stay open and unafraid.
With a hiss, the Fae steps back. “You aren’t willing to bargain for your life then?”
“I’m not willin’ to bargain for my death, but I’ll stay where you can hear me if you send me back unchanged. That’s my bargain and it’s the only one I’ll make.” The Court titters.
Minutes tick by as I hold my breath waiting for the Fae’s response. The Court starts shifting - some impatiently, some uneasily. Then, just as I start to think the deal has been rejected -
“I find these terms acceptable.”
I step out of the shadows to guide her back home.

When we come back, there are whispers. They’re shocked that we came back the same as we left; that we even returned at all. Some speculate that we tricked our way out, others that we were never with the Fair Folk at all. No one thinks that it was sheer stubbornness and determination that saved her, or that we weren’t together wherever we were.
Melody never asks why it took so long for the Gentry to find her in the first place, nor how I knew the path from campus to Court. She knows, and all she says is that if I ever try anything she’ll never speak to me again. I accept her bargain, because what else can I do?
Our days return to normal, except the Fair Folk are all terrified of her now. They address her as The One That Got Away, and when she passes by the lesser Fae bow and the Gentry simply nod. Once she loses her iron rings after a shower. For the entire week it takes to find them again, none of the Fair Folk risk being seen by her.

When I finally ask why she was willing to trap herself at the University when she was so against being trapped at the Court, her response is simple.
“I was already plannin’ on bein’ a professor here.” She grins toothily, “I just made them think they got the better end of the deal while giving up nothing.”
My collection is now in our room so she can be the centerpiece. I don’t want to Take her anymore; she’s already mine.

[x]

i don’t know if my writer’s block is due to my lack of motivation or if it’s because if i write about this heartbreak, if i write about how i feel, if i attempt to put into words the darkness and pain surrounding me, it will become real and not just thousands of words racing through my mind.
CFWE Entry #1 - Stiles Stilinski [Smut]

Author: @likehellorupabove

Character(s): Stiles Stilinski/Chloe

Word Count: 6650

Notes: Y’all, I freaking loved this. It was amazing, and I highly recommend you go follow her because DAMN SON this was some hot stuff, so gooooood.


Originally posted by itsagirlthingbae


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Chamber of Secrets - Part 18

Originally posted by annutystan

Pairing: Bucky x Reader 

Summary: After the Avenger’s falling out, you were put in charge of putting Bucky together. Under King T’Challa’s orders, you were given a month’s time to create a new arm while simultaneously figure out how to get the triggering memories of his past out of his mind. As the time goes by, you found yourself confiding in him, despite his frozen state.

A/N: I know I’ve been the worst in updating but I finally broke free from the massive block that had me frustrated for weeks, it’s not my best but I’m trying to get my groove back on so please feedbacks are greatly appreciated! 

Previous Part 

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CP bachelor AU: part 9

part 1 | part 2 | part 3 | part 4 | part 5 | part 6 | part 7 | part 8

***

Through group dates, individual dates, competitions, parties, product placement and public meltdowns, the show continues. Laurent has been sure of the finalists since soon after the start of filming, but he manages to weave in enough red herrings and emotional tripwires to keep a viewing audience engaged. Even Kallias looks genuinely shocked when he beats out Pallas for a spot in the last four.

Pallas looks up at Damen, rueful, and accepts Damen’s hug goodbye. They both look sleek and strong and masculine in their suits.

“So,” Nicaise murmurs, “d'you think Lazar–”

“Don’t tell me,” Laurent says, “and I won’t have to fire anyone.”

“Ugh, you’re going soft,” Nicaise says.

The other finalists are less surprising. Erasmus has been unfurling with happiness like a literal fucking flower as the weeks pass, increasingly relaxed in front of the camera, constantly laughing and telling fond stories about the kids on his ward. For Damen not to choose him at this point would be like kicking a whole sackful of a puppies.

Jokaste is still Jokaste. Her cattiness behind the scenes is matched only by her charm when one-on-one with Damen. She is witty and edged and lovely, and if she isn’t inundated with offers after the season goes to air, Laurent will eat his headset, or possibly hire her himself.

Keep reading

Attraction

Originally posted by hardcorepillow

Spencer Reid x Reader

For anon who requested - “ I loved the perfect two and if you would make another one with insecure/nervous reid crushing on reader with whatever other things that you want i would read the hell out of that, I just really enjoy those first stages of falling in love yknow”

Spencer POV

It had been over a year since Y/N had joined the BAU. As hard as I tried I could not for the life of me get her out of mind. I couldn’t read with her lingering in my mind constantly. I would start reading a book but when I saw the words “man goes…”, my mind couldn’t help but wander to mangoes which happened to be Y/N’s favorite fruit. I would go to the coffee shop a block away from my apartment and my eyes would wander to the words “bagel” because they were her favorite breakfast food. She was the one thought that got me through jail. This unattainable woman’s likes and dislikes were etched into my mind and for one of the first times in my life, I hated my eidetic memory.

3rd person POV

Spencer Reid had never been the most confident person in the world, especially when it came to women. He had no clue how to even begin to comprehend his feelings towards Y/N. She was a fellow Doctor of the BAU. After Alex Blake had left she became the new resident linguist. She fit in with the team easily. Penelope adored Y/N for her obsession with colorful pens and highlighters. JJ embraced how Y/N would, regardless of how often JJ told her not to, constantly spoil Henry and Michael. Derek enjoyed Y/N’s love for working out and they often hit the gym together. Rossi gleefully accepted another member at the BAU who carried his love for cooking. Hotch appreciated how Y/N was the team’s resident therapist. She would come over regardless of what hour of the day it was to talk to someone who needed it. She helped the team talk through their feelings which helped everyone put their best foot forward every day. And Spencer, he just loved Y/N. She was there for him on odd nights where nightmares of Hankle would plague him. She was there when he found out his mother was diagnosed with Alzheimer’s. She was even there when he simply couldn’t get out of bed due to being petrified from the vivid nightmares that brought him back to prison. Y/N was everything to him and he thought he was nothing to her.

While Spencer had been in jail, all he could do was think of Y/N. He thought about the fruity smell of her shampoo. He thought about the floral scent of her perfume. He couldn’t stop thinking about those long nights where he would lay down with his head in her lap. She would comb through his hair while reading a book of his choosing. Although often times he chose her favorite books, simply to see Y/N smile.

Spencer never realized that while he dreamed of her she also pined after him. To Y/N, Spencer was the ultimate man. He was kind, caring, intelligent, loving, and selfless. He was the best human being that Y/N had met. To Y/N, Spencer was a hot cup of tea on a rainy evening. A bubble bath after a cruddy day.

One night, after a pretty horrid child abduction case, Spencer and Y/N were performing their night routine. They were both over at his place and drinking some coffee in a peaceful silence.

Spencer looked over at Y/N. She was wearing her glasses and her hair was in a messy bun. She only had on a massively oversized sweatshirt teasing Spencer with her toned legs. Y/N’s foot fell asleep and as she went to move it she accidentally kicked Spencer causing his coffee to spill on his shirt.

“Shit, I’m so sorry Spence” said Y/N before rushing to his kitchen to grab a towel.

On her way back she saw that Spencer had taken off his shirt and she just gaped at him. She knew that he worked out every now and then but she was in awe of how muscular he was. His defined biceps and back muscles tempting her. She handed Spencer the towel before continuing to gape at him, this time at his abdominal muscles.

“Y/N, what are you looking at?” asked Spencer.

“Uh, nothing. I was just um upset about spilling your coffee” mumbled out Y/N.

“Wait, Y/N. Were you looking at me?” questioned Spencer with a grin plastering his face.

“No. I definitely was not” spitted out Y/N.

“Come on Y/N, don’t lie to me. I’m a certified genius” said Spencer grinning.

“Well, it’s not my fault. You’re fucking gorgeous!” exclaimed Y/N.

“Wait, you’re attracted to me?” asked Spencer.

“So what? You’re attracted to me!” defended Y/N.

“Wha- How. How did you know?” stuttered out Spencer.

“It was obvious Spencer. You would smell me when we hugged. You actually hugged me. You would come up with excuses to see me. I just wanted you to build up the courage to tell me yourself. You’re so amazing and I wanted you to see how amazing you are” said Y/N, before leaning up to press a chaste kiss against Spencer’s lips. She looked up at Spencer who had a broad smile on his lips.

Spencer, gaining the confidence he hadn’t realized he needed, grabbed Y/N’s face, pulling her closer with his other arm. He leaned down while his fingers combed through the hair falling out of her bun. He gently pressed his lips down to her coffee stained lips. Y/N eagerly responded allowing his lips to caress hers. Out of breath, the two separated before wasting away the evening with chaste kisses, occasional cuddling, and intimate conversation.

A/N I am so busy with finals and a shit ton of papers coming up! I hope you guys enjoy this and I’ll try to get up my other request this coming week! I love you guys and hope you enjoy!

About Time // Part 8

| Prologue | Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 8.5 |

Character: Jungkook x reader / Jimin x reader (feat. BTS)

Type/Genre/words: Angst, Alternate Universe (Time Travel!au, Soulmate!au) / 11,177 words

Prompts: “What if you find your soulmate… at the wrong time?” - Lauren Kate, Passion

Summary: Be careful for what you wish for, because you may never know how to deal with them once it comes true. What would you do when your wish for a second chance actually came true? But was it really a fulfilled wish? Too many questions lie when it actually happened. Were they real memories? Or perhaps a part of a past life? Was it only a dream all along? Will everything be different this time?

Warning: mentions of cancer

Originally posted by izbirakin


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  • Godric: So, I think everyone should explain briefly why they chose their house colour. Helga, do you want to go first?
  • Helga: Well, I wanted my students to look forward to learning in a happy and safe environment and yellow seemed to be the perfect colour for that. It's bright and cheerful.
  • Rowena: For me blue symbolises a clear and well structured mind. There are no clouds blocking it and hindering the student from using their full potential, just a clear blue sky.
  • Godric: Okay, that's interesting. I chose red because it's the colour of war. Life is full of battles, small and big ones and I want my students to feel like they are ready for whatever might come at any time. What about you, Salazar?
  • Salazar: ...
  • Salazar: I look hot as fuck in green.
Candy Man

Genre: 50s!AU; Fluff; Humor 

Pairing: Greaser!S. Coups x Black Reader

Warnings:  Lots of profanity; Racism (but nothing too descriptive and no slurs)

Author’s Note: I was listening to early 2000s hits and “Candyman” by Christina Aguilera came on, so this happened. I also recently watched “A Bronx Tale”, even though that’s more 60s, but I digress.  Greaser!S. Coups gives me all the feels.

     “Ayo, Coups!  You mind spottin’ me?,” Mingyu asked, gesturing towards an apple on the produce vendor’s cart.  “I ain’t spottin’ shit; I lent you money last week.”  “Fine,” the younger male snickered, plucking the bright red treat and taking a bite out of it before his superior could tell him to put it back.  

     “You better pay for that, you little thief!,” the elderly owner exclaimed.  “Cool it, Mr. Jung.  We don’t want no trouble,” S. Coups said, clearly amused at the thought of this old man threatening his able-bodied friend.  Taking a coin out of his pocket, he flicked it in the air, making it an easy catch for the gray haired shop keep.  

     “You’re alright, Choi.  Those other ones you hang out with?  Not so much.”  “Eh, what can ‘ya do?,” the black haired boy shrugged with a sly grin before running off to join his friends down the street.  “Have a nice day, Mr. Jung!”

     “Have a nice day, Mr. Jung!,” Mingyu mocked as S. Coups caught up.  “We don’t want no trouble, Mr. Jung!,” Vernon chimed in with the same tone.  “Shut the fuck up, Dipshits!,” S. Coups laughed.  

     “You should thank him for covering for you. Being a jackass doesn’t get you anywhere or anything,” Wonwoo informed the two younger boys.  “It got me this apple,” Mingyu countered, taking a bite for emphasis.   “And it almost got you a cap in the ass.  I swear Mr. Jung is packin’,” S. Coups said with a nudge to the boy’s side.  

     “Wonwoo with his books and you with your manners think you’re so fucking great, huh?” “Well, I can’t speak for Wonwoo, but my manners are what got me a game of backseat bingo with Hyojin last weekend while you were at home twiddlin’ your dick,” the eldest smirked, causing everyone else to laugh.

     More playfully careless banter was exchanged between the four friends as they approached the bus stop.  “Alright, now if they say anything to you, don’t respond,” S. Coups ordered, upon seeing a few white kids waiting there.  “I ain’t no candyass, Coups,” Vernon muttered.  “Don’t say another fucking thing.  You almost got us killed last time.”

     The four boarded the bus in silence, ignoring the few white kids that made snide comments or spat slurs.  “They’ve run out of original material.  Ain’t that a bite,” Wonwoo said under his breath.  

     “The fuck did you just say?,” one blonde haired boy asked.  “You heard me.”  Before the blonde boy could answer, the bus door opened again and a girl with brown skin and curly hair walked on, clutching a few grocery bags to her chest.  By the time she made it halfway to the back, the four Asian boys had become old news.  Even more people shouted at her while making obscene hand gestures, but she simply kept her eyes on the back window.  

     S. Coups’ eyes followed her from the moment she stepped on until the moment she sat down at the back of the bus.  He scanned over her features before moving down her body, only to be interrupted by a pluck on the head snapping him out of his trance.  

     “What are you looking at?,” Vernon asked.  “Huh? Oh, nothing,” S. Coups replied, pulling a lollipop out of his pocket and unwrapping it.  “You were lookin’ at that black chick, weren’t you?,” Mingyu said, already knowing the answer.  “Maybe so,” he shrugged, popping the candy into his mouth.  

     “You’re keen on a black girl?,” Wonwoo asked.  “My god, guys, she’s black not a fuckin’ leper.  And yeah, I mean…She’s beautiful.  And you guys saw how well she handled that racist bullshit.  She’s classy.”  “The fuck do you know about class?,” Mingyu laughed.  “More than you since I actually go to mine. Like I was saying, she’s-”  “Black.  She’s black, Coups,” Vernon interjected.  “You don’t like it when people judge the way you look, do you?”  “I’m not judging her, I’m just saying you’re asking for trouble.  Mrs. Choi would just about drop dead.”  “Yeah, well you said that when I got my piercings and tattoos, but her heart’s still beatin’ ain’t it?”  

     The bus came to a sharp stop and their topic of discussion arose from her seat and walked towards the front of the bus to leave.  She made swift eye contact with S. Coups, and he swore on his great grandfather’s grave that she smiled at him.  He got up as she passed him and turned to look at his friends, giving them a salute and sideways smile.  “You’re joking,” Mingyu deadpanned.  “Nah, I’ll leave the jokes to you Bozos,” the oldest responded with a laugh before leaving the group.  He gave them a small wave as they rode by him and tossed the stick from his candy on the ground.

     He turned around to find the girl struggling with one of her bags.  Rushing to her side, he used his hand to support the bottom of it, startling her a bit.  “Sorry, didn’t mean to scare you.  It just looked like you needed some help,” he smiled.  “…Thanks,” she hesitantly replied. “I can carry one if you want.  They look kind of heavy.”  “Thank you kindly, but I can handle it,” she said defiantly.  Taking another step forward, she tripped over a rock, causing an apple to fall from one of her bags.  S. Coups caught it and placed it back on top.  “You can handle it, huh?” he chuckled.  

    She stopped in her tracks and looked at him almost incredulously.  “Why are you being nice to me?”  “Why wouldn’t I be?”  She simply rolled her eyes with a scoff.  “Look, I know what you’re thinking, and I’m not like that.”  She searched his face for any sign of deception or dishonesty and couldn’t seem to find one, so she reluctantly allowed him to help her.  

     “You got a name?,” he asked, walking beside her.  “_____.”  “_____; that’s pretty.  I like it,” he smiled at the way her name rolled off his tongue.  “What’s yours?,” she asked in response.  “Coups.  S. Coups.”  “What kind of name is that?,” she giggled.  “It’s my kind of name.  What, you don’t like it?”  She shook her head, laughing at his mockingly offended expression.  “Well, my real name’s Seungcheol, but let’s keep that between us.  Only you can call me that.”  “Well, don’t I feel special.”  “You should,” he chuckled.


     “Hey, we’ve been walking for a bit. Not that I mind the extra time with you, but why’d you get off the bus so far from your block?”  “Bus doesn’t ride through black neighborhoods.  I ‘spose you ain’t too keen on walking through one, neither?”  “I’m keen on you, so I’d follow you anywhere,” he smirked.  “You ‘bout as slick as that grease you slather your hair in,” she laughed.

     About a block later, she stopped again.  “Well, there’s my place right on that corner.”  “You don’t want me to walk you to your door, do you?”  She paused for a moment before answering, “My mama would kill me if you strolled up to the door.”  “I can’t even be upset, since mine would do the same if she saw you.  It’s because I’m Korean, right?”  “No, she’d say you look like a hoodlum,” she began, gesturing towards his outfit.  “But yours would say the same about me, so I guess we’re even.” “So, what if I wanna see you again?”  “Like when?”  “Like all the time, but we can start with tonight,” he replied with a crooked smile.  She bit her lip in thought and S. Coups took note of how pretty her lips were.  “My mama’s usually in bed by the time the street lights come on”  “Great, I’ll pick you up at eight thirty.”


     _____ sat on her bed, waiting and thinking about all the things that could go wrong.  But just as the list got too long, she remembered that smile of his.  Glancing at the clock, she saw that it was eight twenty-five.  She hopped up from her bed and took a look in the mirror, fluffing her hair and applying a coat of lip balm.  Then she quietly made her way downstairs and out the door. 

     S. Coups popped another lollipop out of his mouth to greet her.  “You made it!,” he smiled.  “What, did you think I would punk out?”  “I don’t know, but from what you told me, your mama’s kind of intimidating.  A real ‘no bs’ kinda gal.”  “Well, she is, but she worked a double yesterday, so she’s knocked out.  I wouldn’t chance anything by staying out too late, though.”  “Don’t worry.  I’ll have you home well before she wakes up for her next shift.  Quick question…You afraid of motorcycles?”  


     “Careful, Sweetheart.  You hold me any tighter and I just might propose,” S. Coups laughed.  “I wouldn’t be holding you so tight if you weren’t driving like a bat out of hell,” _____ replied, voice cracking when they hit a speed bump.  “Sorry ‘bout that. I hope your eyes are open, though, since you’re supposed to be giving me directions.”  “Oh, right…,” she muttered, opening her eyes to take a look around.  “Make a left at the next light.”

     After a few more minutes, the vehicle came to a stop in a dimly lit neighborhood.  S. Coups got off the bike, locking it into place before offering a hand to his date.  Normally, she would have declined, but she was still a bit dizzy, so she accepted the gesture.  “Where are we?,” he asked.  “You’ll see,” she smiled, tugging him down a small hill to a slightly worn down building.

     She knocked on the door and waited a few seconds before someone opened an eye level slot.  “Password?,” questioned the pair of dark brown eyes. “SlimJim,” she answered confidently.  The door opened to reveal a black boy around their age.  He smiled at her but gave S. Coups a strange look as she pulled him through the room and down a flight of stairs to what he figured was the basement. The room was packed with black kids, all dancing and having a good time, the jukebox blasting the latest tunes.  A few came to greet _____, and he got a couple stares every now and then, but overall, nobody paid him much attention.  

     Unwrapping a lollipop, he watched in amusement as _____ got pulled to the middle of the dance floor by two of her friends.  She was one hell of a dancer, and quite the social butterfly; he couldn’t keep his eyes off of her. She made everyone around her smile…even him.  

     “You aren’t gonna stand here all night are you?,” she asked, jogging back over to him during a song change.  “I’m not much of a dancer,” he replied, shifting the candy to one side of his mouth as he leaned against a table.  “That doesn’t matter to me. I brought you here to have fun.”  “I don’t know…,” he trailed off, contemplating whether or not he wanted to embarrass himself.  “C’mon, Candy Man.  It’s just one dance,” she teased, gently tugging on the front of his shirt.  “One dance?”  “That’s all I want.  Besides, I’m sure that’s all you could handle,” she smirked.   “Oh, really?,” he asked, one eyebrow raised.  Crossing her arms, she replied, “Mhm.”  Without breaking eye contact, he slid his leather jacket off and placed it over a chair.  Taking a few steps back, she beckoned to him with her finger, that same playful smirk still gracing her features.


     “So, I was that bad, huh?,” he asked as they walked back up the hill.  “What?  No, of course not.  Why would you think that?”  “Your friends were laughing.  They thought I was a total spaz, didn’t they?”  “…Well, yeah, but they thought you were a cute spaz,” she giggled. “I’ll take it.”

     Noticing a slight chill shake her shoulders, he wordlessly took off his jacket and draped it over them.  She simply smiled, knowing it was pointless to try to convince him that she didn’t need it.  “Thanks.”  “Don’t mention it,” he replied, nonchalantly sticking another lollipop into his mouth.  “I swear you always got one of them suckers hangin’ from your mouth.”  “Better than a cig.  I quit a while back” he shrugged.  “Can’t argue with that.  My friend told me kissing a boy who smokes is like kissing an ash tray,” she said, slightly leaning on his bike.  “Oh, really?,” he asked with a raised eyebrow as he stepped closer to her.  “Mhm,” she mused, gently pulling the lollipop out of his mouth.  After looking into her eyes for a moment, he leaned in and pressed his lips against hers, tilting his head a little to deepen the kiss.  

     “What did that taste like?,” he asked as he pulled away.  “…Candy,” she smiled.  “What did it taste like to you?”  “Heaven,” he smirked, causing her to laugh and playfully roll her eyes.  “These things must be the reason you do all that sweet talkin’,” she said, holding it out to him.  He plucked it from her fingers and responded, “Maybe so,” before popping it back into his mouth.    

     Realizing that it was getting really late, S. Coups decided to take _____ home.  After a short ride back, he insisted on dropping her off at her door since everyone was asleep, anyway.  

     She took off the jacket and went to hand it to him, but he just raised his hand to stop her.  “Give it back to me on our second date.”  “And what makes you think you’re getting a second date?”  “That kiss,” he said, biting his bottom lip as he watched a blush tint her cheeks. 

     “Well, you have until then to practice your dance moves,” she quickly recovered.  “Will do.  Next weekend; you and me on that dance floor.”  “Will I see you again before that?”  “I’ll be around.  Why, would you miss me?,” he teased.  “No,” she scoffed, folding her arms.  “Well, that’s a shame, ‘cuz I’d miss you,” his arm wrapped around her waist, pulling her closer as he spoke. “Sweet as candy; slick as grease,” she chuckled, shaking her head.  “Yeah, but you like it,” he smirked, leaning in again.  “Maybe so,” she quipped, giving him a light peck on the lips.  He released her and said, “I should probably get out of here before the parentals notice I’m still out.  Goodnight, Sweetheart.”  Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out yet another lollipop and held it out to her.  With a grin and a light laugh, she accepted it.  “Goodnight, Candy Man.”


     “So, nothing happened?,” Wonwwo asked.  “Nothing,” S. coups answered, tossing a white stick on the ground.  “Look at that shit-eatin’ grin!  He’s fuckin’ lying!,” Mingyu laughed.  

     The four boys stopped at the produce cart again the next day.  No matter how much poking and prodding his three friends did, they couldn’t get S. Coups to describe his night with his new love interest.  

     “Aye, Mr. Jung!  Can I get one of them roses over there, please?,” he asked the owner.  “Sure can.  For a special lady, I assume?”  The young boy simply winked and tossed a coin to the elderly man.  “Thanks, Mr. Jung,” he said before continuing to walk towards the bus stop.

     “’Nothing happened’ my ass!  Tell us what went down!,” Vernon snickered, pushing his friend’s arm.

     “It’s none of your fuckin’ business,” S. Coups chuckled, pulling another piece of candy from his pocket.

A Cutesy Day Off - Cole Fluff

Request: Lol could I request some fluffy imaginey type thing about sleeping/waking up next to cole?? It would END me

Warnings: None :)

Notes: None :)

Tag List: @xbobaaa @superoriginalteenwolf @jbrhs-princess @kindfloweroflove @katshrev @itsbee63 @lost-in-wonderland-x @princessal @love-darren-criss1234 


*YOUR P.O.V*

I groan as I feel myself beginning to wake up. My waist had something semi-heavy resting on it, and my legs and arms stretched out, but they accidentally kicked something next to me, causing my sleepy eyes to open and to look over at the bedside table, where my phone was. I reached over and checked the time, smiling as I remembered that Cole and I both had the day off of work. I rolled back over, to face Cole - who was still peacefully sleeping. His arm was still draped around my waist, and I did my best not to wake him.

“You can stop staring now,” he mumbles, his voice sounding groggy - but still very attractive. 

“But you’re pretty,” I giggle, poking his nose - which causes it to twitch. His eyes flutter open, and a smile to appear on his face. He leans in and places a gentle kiss on my lips. 

“Are we staying in or going out for breakfast,” he asks as he pulls away and props himself up on his elbows, resting his head on his hand, whilst his other hand played with my hair. 

“More like brunch, but I don’t mind. What do you feel like doing?”

“Let’s go out. We haven’t been out in a while”

“True,” I giggle. “Well, in that case, I’m going to go and have a shower,” I smile, turning my face in toward his palm and giving it a small kiss before getting up and going into the wardrobe to figure out what I wanted to wear. 

—–

Cole and I walked hand-in-hand to a cute café a few blocks away from our apartment building. We talked aimlessly about random things that popped up in our heads, until we noticed that we had arrived. Cole, being the gentlemen he was, opened the door for me, to which I thanked him and walked in. The waiter took our order a few minutes after we sat down and we began chatting aimlessly again. 

Originally posted by aestheticsprouse

Once we finished brunch, we went in and out of the cute little shops that were around that area. There were furniture shops, cute thrift shops, a few dress shops and a few more cafés. Cole and I kept walking, exploring the area, when we found a park. Giving each other a look, we both decided to go there. 

——

“Well, today was nice,” Cole smiled over at me as I took my jewelry off, placing them on the dressing table. 

“it sure was. We need to go out more often”

“Hey, if it works out with our schedules, do you wanna make Saturday nights our date night?” Cole suggests. I turn around and flash him a big smiled and a nod.

“I would absolutely love too!”. I walked over and crawled into bed next to Cole, cuddling myself in his nice, warm body, draping my arm over his stomach. He kisses the top of my head, running one of his hands through my hair and the other arm hugging me back. 

Eradicate

I can no longer
fathom the idea
Of happiness
without consequence
They swim together
in my dark seas
Anchoring this vessel
until I splinter apart
The chain rips through
the lacquered hull
As the school of piranhas
start to circle
As death stops
sharpening his scythe
Excited to tattoo
my name on his bones


I haven’t swam in a while
but that doesn’t stop my mind
from trying to drown me
It accepts all the pain
and suffering I have endured
at face value, without explanation
Trapping my body
inside a fog of darkness
I can only feel the
tingling of being numb
Spider webs block the exits
while I wait, wondering what my
thoughts have in store


I have been imprisoned
for a lifetime, the only difference
being the change in scenery
Having been tortured
for the fact that two young people
were not ready to bear a child
So life has been trying to eradicate
my memory ever since,
marking me for discard
Oh how I long to escape these shallow breaths for this isn’t breathing
This isn’t even living anymore

Cruel Summer (Part 2) (Loki x reader)

Request: Hi. I’m just making a request now so I don’t miss out on the opened time. You can put this on hold as long as you like cause if it’s earliness. I fell in love with your Loki fic “cruel summer” and was wondering about a part 2, maybe Loki storms off muttering to himself about getting revenge for the pool fiasco and goes to his room. There’s a knock and he thinks it’s Thor demanding he watches his behaviour instead it’s the reader with a peace offering cause she felt bad after? 

I had to read this one to remember how it went!  It’s kind of an oldie!

Part 1

It didn’t take more than a few seconds to realize that you had maybe gone too far; Loki had hurried to his room so fast that you almost missed it, pulling yourself out of the pool and turning to see the last sight of him just before reaching the entry to the building.  You immediately felt a wave of guilt, despite having been told by Thor that his brother enjoyed tricks and it would have gone much better than this.  In fact, Thor stood only a few feet away now, laughing along with Tony until he caught your angry expression staring back at him; when he silenced, Stark followed suit, quickly creating a hush over the entire pool area.

Keep reading

My late entries for @klanceweek Days 2 and 3. Joint drabbles showcasing pining!lance. Canon-compliant. Also on AO3 & FFnet. (You can read these, along with Day 1, as a series on AO3.)

- sleapy 😴


Radio Silence

Words: ~300
Summary: Day 2: Sacrifice. Set during S02E12, when Keith announces he’ll infiltrate the Galra ship. 2nd person, Lance’s POV.

“I’ll do it. I’ll sneak onto Zarkon’s ship. I’m Galra, so I’ll be able to interact with their technology. No one’s commanding me. I’m doing it.”

You hear Keith speak the words, but you feel them in your viscera.

It’s war. It’s the climax of your team’s master plan, and it’s threatening to fall apart because of one missing link. Everyone is doing what they can. Keith is just doing what he can. Then why do you feel such dread in your veins? Why does the thought of Keith on what Kollivan just called “a suicide mission” twist your stomach into unpleasant knots? You don’t say anything but you stare daggers into the back of Keith head, wanting to telepathically convey ‘don’t go’ at the same time as never wanting him to get an inkling of your feelings—feelings you can’t quite grasp yet yourself. All you know is that you don’t want him to go. It will be like waiting for him to return from the Blade of Marmorra base all over again, watching Red trying to infiltrate, knowing she’d only do that if he was in real danger. All you know is that you want him to stay back where the two of you can keep an eye on each other, as you do, without ever acknowledging it. You want the lack of communication from Thace to be someone else’s problem, regardless of the fact that your team is small enough for it to be everyone’s problem; regardless of the fact that you couldn’t bear to lose any of the others any more than you could bear to lose Keith, and yet it’s only seeing him in danger that lights embers along your body, that makes you whisper, “Don’t sacrifice yourself.”


Other Words for Love

Words: ~800
Summary:  Day 3 - Scars. Post-season 2 (Set after S02E13). 2nd person, Lance’s POV.

You’re so drained. Drained from the mission, from the uncertainty of losing Shiro, from being zapped by Haggar’s magic, from listening to Slav calculate the probabilities of further success. Remembering Shiro’s past advice, you sentimentally decide to hit the training deck to unwind. You are entirely unsurprised to find Keith there—does that guy even do anything in his free time besides train? But what you were not expecting was your rival dual-wielding his bayard and his extended Marmorra blade against a training bot. He’s sweating with exertion, breath labored. He doesn’t seem to have heard the door slide open; and you’re rooted to the spot, staring openly.

“End training sequence.” Keith takes a deep breath and retracts his blades. He tucks the luxite knife into the holster on his belt and pulls up the hem of his T-shirt to wipe at the sweat on his face. It’s too tight to do much good though, so he gives up and reaches behind his head, yanking the shirt off altogether.

You were not ready, and your audible intake of breath alerts him to your presence. He turns, pinning you with his gaze, expression unreadable. You weren’t fortified to see Keith’s bare chest either, and you feel the blush on your face and neck. The tensest moments of your life pass as you match that gaze, until you succumb to the urge to run your mouth—your go-to solution for tense situations.

“So Mullet, I bet you think you’re extra cool now with that new shoulder scar.”

His brow knits in confusion. “Are you serious?”

And okay, maybe it was the wrong thing to say—insensitive, even—but you’re onto something here, and this is how it always works between you two, right? You lick your lips and keep talking.

“Not to boast, but I’ve got badass scars too that tell some pretty heroic stories.”

His face is blank now, as if he’s at a complete loss for how to react to your priorities. You will him to understand that this banter is easier than talking about what you’ve all just gone through. Part of you wonders if he does understand, because he hasn’t actually told you to fuck off yet. You wonder if he also understands that it’s easier for you to get under his skin than it is to look into his eyes and say you’re relieved he made it off the Galra ship alright.

Throwing confidence you don’t really feel into your steps, you approach him. You tilt your head to bare the side of your neck, where a raised pink thread of skin extends up behind your ear to disappear into your hair. “This was from the jellyfish I had to wear on my head to block the Baku’s mind control rays when I helped save the mermaids.”

And maybe you didn’t think this well-enough through, because when you feel a hot finger gently trace the mark you just pointed out, your blood runs cold. Keith takes a step to your side and his finger blazes a path to the back of your neck where a more faded scar begins. Your breath is shaky as you struggle to keep talking.

“Th-that one was from Sendak’s bomb.”

“You took the full force of that blast on your back,” Keith recalls. “This must go pretty far down.”

You hesitate only for a moment before you’re reaching back to take off your shirt. The scar—faint because you were luckily wearing your armor that day—does indeed run all the way down your back, the rest of it covered by your jeans. His fingers brush across your back once, and the single touch is enough to rock a shiver through you. Your mind likes to default to competition when it comes to Keith, so it immediately occurs to you that this is unfair; if he gets to touch yours, you get to touch his. You turn toward him, keeping your eyes trained away from his face and focus on his right shoulder. You run your forefinger and thumb down the corded slash, feeling how different it is from the pale skin on either side of it. Your balled-up shirt is clutched tightly in your other hand. He cocks his head to the side, and you feel more than see his eyes scrutinizing you intensely. Something about this moment tells you there’s no point in keeping it in anymore. “Keith,” you whisper, without looking up or pulling back your hand, “I’m glad you’re okay.”

His chest swells at your words, and it helps assure you that there’s nothing wrong with caring for him like this. He moves a fraction of an inch closer, hand coming up to rest on yours where it still rests on his shoulder. “I’m glad you’re okay too.”