coulda shoulda


I will not yell at you for who you voted for. I will not start a war with my words. I am a firm believer of positive energy and, if this election ends with a Trump presidency, then we need to stand together and support each other. There is no time to yell and shout at each other for shoulda-coulda-wouldas. What happens will happen and it is up to us to make the best of it; even if that means sticking it out for four years and dragging a chain of fear across the way by our ankles.

We will be fine. We need to breathe and we need to stand together. If we let this break us apart, we will perish and fall no matter what.

A woman or Madi Scott in this case is NOT a fucking beard if the man she’s fucking is straight! I cannot stay quiet and let that bit of ignorance stand. Idngaf about the coulda/woulda/shoulda. If you want to think what makes you happy, fine. Its your choice. But cannonically, Long John Silver is straight, who has been with two WOMEN on the show. In the book he is straight. Nothing besides inference by FANS has said otherwise. Ship and let ship has always been my motto but dont you DARE desexualize a woman, nevermind an AA woman by calling her a beard just to make you feel better. Its childish and offensive and for people who are supposedly progressive a step backwards because if you value sexuality over sexual gender bias JUST to fulfill selfish desires then you are WRONG. So terribly wrong. Madi Scott is a strong, sexually attractive, fierce woman of whom John Silver has been in an intimate relationship for quite some time and for whom Silver marries. This is the story. The rest until seen otherwise is fan fic. Give her due or not but don’t USE her by disregarding her importance especially when its how Silver sees her. Not to mention Luke Arnold is all about his ship that becomes a part of the person who IS Long John Silver

Better Creatures (Ginny/Mike, NC-17)

Late night, last minute fic for Bawson Sinning Sundays! Forgive me, I was driving today.

Things are, well…awkward seems like too weak a word.

Tense as fuck. Earth-shifting. Walking on crates of dynamite while juggling lit torches.

Mike’s not sure how to deal with the fallout of their near-kiss, so he shuts down. He avoids unnecessary eye contact or small talk with Ginny, stops calling or checking in with her. It’s too much. Everything is too much to handle and there’s an instinct in him to protect them both.

He spends a lot of time thinking about the almosts and the maybes. He’s kept awake by the coulda, woulda, shouldas. If he had turned his phone off or ignored her plea to answer it when Oscar called. If he hadn’t stumbled and stuttered over his words before cracking a joke to lighten the mood. If he hadn’t waited for her to take the lead.

If he hadn’t called her out to the bar at all, and they wouldn’t be in this goddamn mess.

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When I was 7, I wanted to be 8. When I was 8, I wanted to be 12. When I turned 12 I just wanted to be 18. Then after that I stopped wanting to be older. Now I’m ticking 16-24 boxes just to see if I can blag it! I feel like I’ve spent my whole life so far wishing it away. Always wishing I was older, wishing I was somewhere else, wishing I could remember and wishing I could forget too. Wishing I hadn’t ruined so many good things because I was scared or bored. Wishing I wasn’t so matter of fact all the time. Wishing I’d gotten to know my great grandmother more, and wishing I didn’t know myself so well, because it means I always know what’s going to happen. Wishing I hadn’t cut my hair off, wishing I was 5-foot-7. Wishing I’d waited and wishing I’d hurried up as well.

I’m making up with myself. Making up for lost time. Making up for everything I ever did and never did. But I haven’t got time to hold onto the crumbs of my past like I used to. What’s done is done. Turning 25 was a turning point for me, slap bang in the middle of my twenties. Teetering on the edge of being an old adolescent and a fully-fledged adult, I made the decision to go into becoming who I’m going to be forever without a removal van full of my old junk.

I miss everything about my past, the good and the bad, but only because it won’t come back. When I was in it I wanted out! So typical,“ I’m on about being a teenager, sitting around and chatting shit, not caring about the future because it didn’t matter then like it does now. The ability to be flippant about everything and there be no consequences. Even following and breaking rules…is better than making the rules, 25 is about getting to know who I’ve become without realizing. And I’m so sorry it took so long, but you know, life happened.

—  Adele

anonymous asked:

“Kissing me breaks the promise… remember?” - Coliver

Thanks for the prompt!

Angst Prompts

Connor promised he wouldn’t do this tonight. He promised Michaela he wouldn’t be a downer, that he would mingle and chat, put on a face and a slap on a smile, and just… act normal. He owes her that much, for all she’s put up with his shit.

But now he’s on his fourth vodka soda, sitting off to the side from the people celebrating with the birthday boy.

He shouldn’t have come tonight.

He promised himself he wouldn’t spend the night thinking about the past, agonizing over shoulda woulda couldas. Every thought that maybe he could have tried harder, maybe he could have done something to make Oliver stay… every torturous moment of self-hatred that plagues him isn’t enough to deny himself the truth–that he gave their relationship his all. But his all just wasn’t enough.

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Oh Captain, My Captain | Luke

a/n: I was almost finished writing something else but then soccer star luke happened and then so did this.

word count: 1300
masterlist | request

It was much darker by the time Luke came out of the rooms following his game, the coldest part of the night having arrived. You smiled hopefully when you saw him; bag slung over his shoulder, hair wet from a shower he either just had or spent the last two hours standing in.

“Hey there, Superstar.” You grinned softly as he approached his car, pulling the blanket from your lap and jumping down off the hood. He looked up and gave you a sad smile, totally defeated by their loss, the jersey you were wearing with his name on the back making his heart jump. “What are you thinking, where do you wanna go?”

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