got will never be the same

almost prompts

  • “we never got the right timing.”
  • “if you asked me years ago, i would have said yes.”
  • “we aren’t the same people. not anymore.”
  • “don’t you want to know what could have been?”
  • “it’s too late.”
  • “i used to daydream about us.”
  • “maybe in another life we could have been together.”
  • “you’re not the one i love.’
  • “do you ever think that if we had been single at the same time, that we could have been something more?”

anonymous asked:

I sure do love the way sg has to get an Italian to play a latina protagonist but actual latinx actors come out of the woodwork when they're casting villains and homophobes

yeah. and like, i get it’s part of the industry being messed up, and there are things there that we just don’t understand, but at the same time it still sucks and our voices i hope are being heard about this ‘cause it’s messed up.

i’ve calmed down a bit here; 

Here’s the thing, they make her latinx in the show, but also not really? Like they could have just kept her italian and had pretty much the exact same storyline without pissing people off? 
also she never really got significant screen time to really establish her. not anything, really very significant anyway. 
she’s a gay cop from nebraska who’s parents kicked her out and is also lowkey kind of a lair?  that is about the extent of her character. 
I literally do not understand her father’s reasoning for not wanting to be around her like, like this isn’t even being like, “yay another latinix father who’s being homophobic” i honestly don’t understand his reasoning and someone please explain it to me lol 

but anyway, it’s sad, guys. 

this “latinx” lesbian who’s not really latinx is about to get wrecked with out any real deep character development(really hoping there’s no demonizing her for not wanting kids, ‘cause look, she’s not my fav but not wanting kids is perfectly fine ya’ll) 

and reign, who’s actor is actually latinx, is gonna descend into evilness and lose her daughter. 

yay 

TAYLOR SWIFT DOES NOT OWE YOU ANYTHING. I REPEAT, TAYLOR DOESN’T OWE YOU ANYTHING

Taylor goes out of her way to give love to absolutely as many of us as HUMANLY POSSIBLE and some of you are out here raising hell because some people got the “same message” as others than went to a session and they didn’t get to go and are throwing a fit? Taylor is HANDPICKING these people to go. Would we all like to be one? Yes!!! Are we all going to be? NO. You do not get to know why she picked any person or why she picked some people multiple times. Is jealousy natural? Yes. Does it mean you should throw a fit and be completely ungrateful that the greatest popstar IN THE WORLD is giving her fans more love and attention than probably every other star who has ever lived COMBINED has given their fans? She doesn’t sleep. She makes us a HUGE part of her life. Do you really think she’s letting her team run around unchecked? No. That girl runs the damn world and if you don’t love and respect her decisions of who she wants to see when she is giving a HUGE part of herself for free then I’m not sure you respect her at all.

Taylor Swift is an angel human and she deserves more than this stupid drama when she’s out here loving all of us.

A/N: This isn’t a request - simply a story that came to me randomly. So I wrote it and now I’m dedicating it to @dont-look-so-good/ @ocsickficsideblog because today is April’s birthday! April you are my amazing wee sister and I love you lots lots lots! I hope you like this and have had an absolutely amazing birthday because you deserve the best!! 😊💙


“Relax!” Zubin placed a drink down in front of Lyle, who thought it better resembled a fishbowl than a glass. “I got you a San Francisco so it’s not got any alcohol in it, just fruit juice and grenadine.” Lyle eyed the glass with caution, he’d never done the cocktail and mocktail thing before and it put him so far out of his comfort zone that he was struggling even to trust Zubin.

“Are you having the same?” Lyle asked; he expected Zubin to have something alcoholic, but the drink in front of him looked very similar to his own.

This bar was new, but had already succeeded in building a reputation as a good place for performers. That was really what Zubin was interested in, he was scoping out whether this was the sort of place that he could do his drag act in. He’d wheedled Lyle into going along with him because everyone else was busy. Lyle had tried to be busy too, but Zubin won.

“No, I’m having a Sex on the Beach,” Zubin replied, and Lyle felt his cheeks go a bit pink at the name, “it’s the same but with vodka and schnapps.”

“How do you know which one’s which?” Lyle looked between the glasses again, he couldn’t tell any difference.

“Because your one has the orange and mine has the lemon,” Zubin tapped the garnishes on the side of the glasses.

“Okay,” Lyle said, picking up his glass to take a drink and very nearly needing both hands to keep it steady. The fruit juice tingled in his mouth and Zubin grinned as Lyle seemed satisfied.

“I really like these pods,” Zubin stroked his hand across the fabric of the seat, “it gives it a bit of a cosy, upmarket vibe, don’t you think?”

“I guess,” Lyle agreed; this wasn’t the sort of place that he would go if it wasn’t for Zubin’s encouragement. It was busy – at least the pod gave them a little bit of space and at least the illusion of privacy. The wall behind Lyle allowed him to feel secure, but all the people made him feel antsy. Zubin, on the other hand, was in his element – he sipped at his drink, his eyes darting around taking all the surroundings in.

“And you can still see the platform area from in here,” he pointed out. Lyle didn’t say anything, but took another gulp of his drink just for something to do. There was a tight knot in his chest, an increasing anxiety about where he was, that he was struggling to dampen down. “Are you okay?” Zubin asked.

“Yeah,” Lyle lied, although his lips were hard to move and he really hoped that Zubin didn’t notice that his hand was shaking as he took a large gulp.

“We don’t have to stay if you’re not comfortable,” Zubin offered, his dark eyebrows furrowed down as he watched Lyle. “We can finish these and go, I’ve seen the place now.”

“No, it’s okay,” Lyle heard himself say, and as soon as the words were out of his mouth he knew he couldn’t take it back. He took another gulp, the fruit juice was nice – but it had a sharpness that Lyle hadn’t expected. Perhaps next time he’d just have a fruit cider.

The lights on the platform had changed, a soft white spotlight cut though the pale blue light which had made Lyle feel like he was under the sea from the moment they’d come inside.

“Good evening,” one of the barmen had appeared on the platform and his voice came across the speaker loud and clear. “It’s my pleasure to introduce, on behalf of Polo bar, our first spoken word artist in tonight’s line up. Give a warm welcome to Seerhere.”

A round of applause swelled through the bar, bouncing off the roof and in the pods. Lyle looked across at Zubin, and from the surprised look on his face he was just as oblivious as Lyle.

“Did you know?” Lyle asked anyway, but Zubin’s eyebrows had raised so high up on his forehead they nearly disappeared into his hairline.

“No!” Zubin shook his head, feeling perhaps Allah really had been smiling down on this trip.

Spoken art was one of Lyle’s things. He’d always loved poetry but when he’d discovered spoken word artists on YouTube he’d instantly fallen in love. The applause had died down as a young man wearing a suit accessorized by a beanie hat stepped on to the platform. There was something about the way that he stood, feet planted firmly on the ground with a sense of certainty, and Lyle watched in anticipation – a cold tingling along his arms.

“Lists.
Tickboxes.
Type your answer here.
Delete as appropriate.”

His voice was not what Lyle expected, it was high and breathless – and sounded like music to Lyle’s ears.

“Deletion.
Backspace.
Step back.
Stop.”

Zubin watched Lyle’s face, his expression had changed entirely as he listened. To Zubin it was just words, but for Lyle it wove a pattern.

“Red light.
Green man.
Crossing.
Lives.
Interwoven.
Moments.”

The atmosphere in the room had shifted and Lyle felt welcome among the group of listening congregants. He gulped another large amount of his drink, the sharpness was growing on him now and he was quite enjoying it.

“Moments in time.
Time’s up.
Stop.
End.”

There was a moment where the room collectively held its breath, then the applause started.

“That was amazing,” Lyle thought aloud, clapping so hard his palms hurt.

“It’s pretty good,” Zubin agreed, and Lyle looked across at him trying hard not to laugh.

“I know it’s not your thing Zu,” Lyle told him, taking a long drink of his mocktail which left the glass empty, “you don’t have to pretend to me, I don’t mind.”

“But it’s your thing,” Zubin looked embarrassed at Lyle’s frankness, he drained his own glass. “I’m going to get another, do you want one?”

“Yeah, why not?” Lyle shrugged, more interested in the artist on the platform. Zubin slipped out of the pod and disappeared off to the bar; Lyle edged slightly closer to the edge of the pod so he could get a better view.

“When feet meet the street
It’s tarmac and rubber,
When feet meet the street
But can’t leave
It’s cold toes and sleeping bags.”

Lyle closed his eyes, as this person spoke the words seemed to curl and dance like a trail of rising smoke in front of his eyes. He was entranced by it, goosebumps were rising on the back of his neck. Zubin returned with the glasses and slid in beside Lyle.

“This would be a good venue for one of your poetry things,” Zubin said when the artist had finished his next piece.

“It would!” Lyle agreed. He’d never thought about that; their previous poetry soc readings had always either been jammed into the English department’s common room, or in one of the dingier pubs on campus where the air became so thick and hot it was difficult to breathe. “Maybe I’ll have to suggest it at the next meeting.”

For the first time in their friendship it was Lyle who wanted to stay out and Zubin was waiting for him; there was two girls who followed the first performer, one who Lyle didn’t rate too highly and the other who he thought was phenomenal. Lyle was so enthralled that he hadn’t noticed Zubin refilling his glass every time it was empty; what notified Lyle to the amount of liquid he’d drunk was the need to go to the toilet. He wobbled as he got out from the pod and was unsure as to why he felt so unsteady on his feet.

Normally his anxiety prevented him from going to the bathroom on his own in such a busy place, as the mere thought of having to walk across a crowded bar to get there made his knees weak. But tonight he simply waved off Zubin’s offer and set off across the gathered clumps of people, heading towards the area next to the platform where there was a sign for the toilets. He pushed through a door and found himself in a corridor with an open door out to the smoking area, and both sets of bathrooms – the cold air from outside hit him with a ferocity that made him wobble again.

He stumbled a little as he entered the bathroom and, as a precaution, decided it might be better for him to use a stall. Lyle’s head was swimming as he closed the door and locked it with trembling fingers; he sat down rather heavily on the toilet and sunk his head into his hands. He hadn’t been sure why he was feeling so woozy, but as he sat on the toilet with his eyes closed, the realisation that he definitely had a bit of alcohol in him presented itself.

Anger rose in Lyle’s chest – had Zubin known all along that he was giving him alcohol? If that was true he was going to be really upset with him. He knew Lyle had a lecture in the morning and he really didn’t like going out before his classes. He had to psyche himself into moving because his surroundings were swirling unsteadily; he focused on keeping himself steady as he washed his hands. His cheeks were flushed and his glasses were sliding down to the point of his nose.

The sound seemed much louder as Lyle re-entered the bar, and he focused on putting one foot in front of the other while not banging into those around him. When he slid back into the pod he felt a lot worse than he had when he went to the toilet; Zubin was there with another two glasses, but the thought of drinking more made him feel queasy.

“There’s alcohol in that,” Lyle said, pointing to the glass in front of him.

“No, it’s the San Francisco,” Zubin told him, but Lyle shook his head and shoved it towards him.

“Try it,” he insisted, so Zubin took a sip and then his eyes widened; he took a drink of his own.

“Shit,” he muttered, looking horrified. “Shit Lyle! I must’ve got them mixed up!”

“Yeah,” Lyle nodded. He was trying to take deep breaths as the effects of the alcohol hit him all at once, and he could feel the baked potato he’d eaten for dinner churning inside his stomach.

“Oh shit Lyle! I’m sorry!” Zubin put his hands onto Lyle’s arm and gave it a quick squeeze.

“It’s alright,” he replied, although he was increasingly feeling not alright as he sat. “You didn’t mean it…” Lyle felt like his lips were made of rubber as he spoke; his mouth had gone rather dry, but he was swallowing repeatedly as he felt something rising in his throat.

“Are you alright?” Zubin asked, he’d moved round in the pod so he was right next to him. Lyle paused, trying to establish just how he was feeling; his stomach was doing somersaults and he could feel his glasses sliding down his nose as he shook his head quickly. “What’s going on?”

Lyle wanted to reply, but his stomach gave a jolt and he clapped his hand to his mouth as a gag pushed up. Watery liquid filled his mouth and he looked at Zubin, absolutely petrified, but not knowing what to do.

“Are you gonna be sick?” Zubin put his hand on Lyle’s shoulder and Lyle nodded, not removing his hand from his mouth for fear of what might come out. “Fuck, right…”

Kmmmmchh!” Lyle heaved, his back banged against the wall as he tried to push himself back; if he was going to throw up he didn’t want to get it on himself. He could taste acid as he tried to swallow down the mouthful of sick, but he was failing. “G’rrrkk!” Lyle could feel his cheeks straining and he didn’t know what to do… He really didn’t want to be sick in the middle of this club, that was just beyond humiliating!

“Here, Lyle,” Zubin grabbed one of the large empty glasses from the table and held it up to Lyle’s face; Lyle shook his head, but then a contraction from his belly had him grabbing the glass with both hands.

Brruuurrrllluuuukkk!” Lyle cringed as a gush of mushy sick poured into the glass, half filling it immediately. He tried to take a few gasps of air now his mouth was empty, but his body had other ideas. “G’kkkhhhuuuh!” Another wave of puke came rushing up and out of him.

“Oh fuck,” Zubin put his hand on Lyle’s back and rubbed across his shoulder blades, “it’s okay Lyle.” Zubin could hear Lyle breathing raggedly and could see the glass he was clutching so tightly was very nearly full. “Let me take that from you.” Zubin tried to take the stem of the glass to prize it out of Lyle’s hands but he was shaking his head again. His stomach was still rebelling and he knew he wasn’t going to be able to keep the rest of it’s contents down for long. “Use this one,” Zubin picked up another glass and managed to swap them.;

Uuuuarrrp!” Lyle belched loudly and a spattering of vomit fell into the glass; he felt awful – his head was spinning and he could feel sweat and tears mingling on his face. “Huuuaaaargh…” With every retch Lyle only managed to bring up a little amount of sick and Zubin could feel the muscles in Lyle’s back straining to get it up.

“It’s okay – you’re okay,” Zubin gently put his free hand on Lyle’s leg and could feel it trembling.

“It – hic – hurts…” Lyle forced out between gags, he couldn’t quite get his breathing back under control and his stomach muscles were tensing so much that they ached.

“I know,” Zubin placated, “just try and breathe – in though your nose and out through your mouth.” This was one of the techniques Lyle used when he was panicking, so Zubin reckoned it might work now too.

Hrrrk! Hmmmk!” Lyle was holding the glass over his mouth and nose, heaving repeatedly but not bringing anything up. “Huuurrp!”

“Don’t fight it Lyle,” Zubin said, rubbing Lyle’s back more and gently using his other hand to push Lyle’s glasses up.

Huuuuaaaarrrraaallpph!” Zubin felt Lyle jerk sharply and the glass was suddenly full and overflowing, dripping down onto the seat in between Lyle’s legs.

“Alright…” Zubin tried to make Lyle let the glass go, succeeding and placing it on the table. Lyle close his eyes, leaning slightly into Zubin – he felt like the whole world was blurring around him. “Lyle – don’t fall asleep, come on, let’s get you home.”

Mmmm…” Lyle hummed, he was breathing slowly now and his stomach felt hollow and sour.

“Come on,” Zubin gripped Lyle’s upper arms and managing to haul him out of the pod; he wrapped his arm around Lyle’s waist to hold him upright. “That’s it…”

Lyle retched again as the cold outside air hit him, but he had nothing left inside him so he was hanging limply from Zubin, heaving emptily towards the ground.

“Oh Lyle… I’m so sorry…” Zubin felt awful for his mistake to have caused this.

“It’ – hrrrk – okay…” Lyle mumbled.

“It’s not,” Zubin shook his head, “but I’m going to get you home and make sure you’re okay… You’ll be fine, I promise.”

“Thanks Zu.”

anonymous asked:

What would Jared do if his daughter was really good at doing makeup and made it look like she hurt herself and she went to show him but forgot to tell him it was fake?

He would probably get a really, really good scare that involves him throwing his bowl of popcorn in the air and running to jump and help her. But then she’d be laughing because of how ridiculous he would look in that moment. Followed by him going into shock at why she’s laughing hysterically whilst hurt. Then it would hit him and think she’s pranking him. Then he’d get embarrassed because he never likes to look as though he lost his cool and try and play it off like he was acting and knew the whole time. At the same time while she’s just then remembering the makeup she did and laughing even more and teasing him that she got him when she didn’t even mean to. I can see them being pranksters with each other so maybe that’s why she did do the makeup too. 

So, ladies, gentleman, and variations thereon on an XYZ sliding scale, I noticed I’ve featured my old friend James {By @jackrabbitwynand} a few times and haven’t explained us much, so let’s talk.

James and I worked together before Rapture fell apart; worked at the same theatre. Got along real well.

There for awhile I was in a queer platonic relationship with ‘im, he’s somewhere on the asexual spectrum – never really found exactly where he was. I’m not, but it worked out.

{Happy asexuality awareness week!}

anonymous asked:

:o i never really got full sized candy trick or treating EXCEPT one time it was pouring rain and no one was really going out except for a few kids and we hit a house towards the end of the night that hadn’t had anyone else come by and he split an entire bowl of full sized chocolate bars between me and my friend. it was the highlight of my life

Omg nice!! That’s like the Halloween equivalent of winning the jackpot in one of those arcade games lmao!

That guy was a real MVP, if I were in the same situation I would have just kept all the extra candy to myself ^^;;

Also, I want to revive @fuckyeahfemcousland, but everything I ever got to reblog there was more of the same, including my own contributions. And really, without more variety in both styles of Couslands and in their backgrounds I don’t see a reason to do so. In addition to that, I want more fics on it but never had time to moderate those myself.

So, in the light of maybe bringing it back, rec me some Couslands to reblog there. OPs or links to them preferred so the creator gets the notes, past Couslands who have been featured welcome but more diversity in Couslands even more welcome. Including/especially multi-origin Cousland crossovers and AUs and rare pair Couslands. And fics, though as I’ve mentioned in the past I’ll need help keeping up with and reblogging those (first off to just read them, second off to make sure what to tag them with content-wise).

Send message/ask if you’re maybe interested.

anonymous asked:

Is racism a problem for you? Like do you experience racism?

I’m what people call “caucasian”, so no. It never happened to me to experience racism directly.

I believe racists are simply ignorant people. Whether they got a decent education or not.

Racism only generates hate, and doesn’t make any sense. It’s really difficult for me to understand the reasons behind it. And at the same time it’s shocking to see the effects it has on society.

But what’s most shocking is how easy it is for people to forget about what racism caused in the past. Especially in Europe. Especially in Italy. 

World War II happened seventy years ago. And now we have presidents building walls. Again.

anonymous asked:

when did you realise you were a lesbian and did you id as anything else before? I'm 15 and thought I was pan for years but I'm coming to terms with the fact I'm actually a lesbian and was wondering if anyone else finds it difficult to deal with?? 💕💕

i went through a long long period where i was aware on some level that i wasn’t into men the same way my peers were. i chalked it up to emotional abuse preventing me from feeling romantic (later i did discover and use the term aromantic) and toyed with the idea that i was bisexual “but with a strong preference for men so i’ll never bother coming out!” my senior year of high school i got involved with a lesbian friend of mine and confronted the fact that it clicked in a way men just didn’t, and after a few weeks of that i started tentatively referring to myself as gay and then eventually used the word lesbian.

so, your journey sounds completely normal to me. it’s definitely hard to embrace a label you’ve been running away from, especially given the rampant fetishization of bi women and lesbians! it’s easy to feel like our identities are dirty words, but hang in there.

The Foundation for the Future

Okay. Okay.

A lot happened here. The Sins defeated Chandler but actually they didn’t.
What really surprised me was that we got to see Meliodas and King’s first meeting. Like, we KNEW Meliodas was part of the group that was apprehending King (though we still don’t know when that was? King killed Helbram 200 years ago but he was surprised to see Meliodas didn’t age in 10 years so either for the longest time King just thought Meliodas is a different person that happens to look the same as that guy from 200 years ago… Or the knights needed 200 years to apprehend a guy that didn’t seem to have moved from the spot he killed Helbram in, and nothing changed at the place where they had their battle…  People didn’t decay, there are still fires… seriously, when the fuck did this take place?), but we never got any kind of reaction out of king… I was starting to wonder if he even noticed Meliodas sitting there, staring at him.
It was a really nice scene! And damn, that hurt when Meliodas said he only knows kings that are scum and do whatever the hell they want and kill anyone they don’t like… Because obviously most of “them” probably refers to his own father… You can really feel the bitterness…
The scene after that was cute too… How everyone approves of King after he wonders if he was able to become a good king… That might have been the first time Ban openly praised King without teasing him. And Diane is starting to let out her naughty side again? It’s been a while… Ever since she remembered King she wasn’t as gungho anymore XD Back in the old days she’d ask Meliodas to grope her and make a child with her… Wild times… I kinda missed that side of her tbh, she somehow turned into someone who was mostly cute and innocent which wasn’t how she acted when she was first introduced so I’m glad she’s not completely changed.  (and yes, King, hurry up and make her some clothes. Now’s your time. Don’t let her be naked any longer)
Aaaaand that’s exactly where the happy times stop… Because the Absolute Order spell wasn’t broken. And now Gowther is broken instead… Oh man… There we thought the nakama power saved him and then he just… gives out… I wonder if he knew. If he knew that Hawk wasn’t able to break the spell but STILL decided to go against the order, knowing that it would destroy him… Or if he believed in Hawk and realized too late… Either way, damn, I didn’t expect that after the last chapter.
I’m not even sure what to say about Cuzack making tea and Zeldris’ expressions but be assured that I laughed.  Well, they were only shown to reveal that and why Chandler is in fact not beaten. It’s interesting how Cuzack even said they defeated “the magician Chandler”, as if there’s another Chandler that’s not a magician. He really seems to have become a more physical fighter now though. He has a sword inside his cane, he grew WINGS (dragon wings? Is he a dragon? Did the dragon king finally make an appearance?) and muscles… Nakaba really likes his men with muscles. And damn, he’s  on a whole different level now. King intends to sacrifice himself to buy the others some time to get away with Meliodas and Elizabeth and I actually feared for him because… what other choice do they have?
Turns out they still have one last hope in the form of Drole and Gloxinia. Who will probably die. I mean. Someone HAS to die in this scenario right? And looking at the title for the next chapter “Inheritable soul” it sounds like someone (or two) inherit some dead souls? It could also be a power up for Chandler but with all the parallels between King and Gloxinia, Drole and Diane… it would make a lot of sense for them to inherit their predecessors’ souls. Maybe power up a bit more through that, maybe not… But I feel like the two kings both have done enough. They also seem prepared to die, as a “foundation for the future” and even Nakaba can’t save them all, can he? (maybe he can, he’s the author, but I doubt it). One way or another though, the Sins will be saved and another battle will reach its conclusion.

A human and his monster boyfriend in college I’m trying to draw dave and John to show show off the height differences between high school and college (adulthood) 

Here is a WIP Of half of the drawing. College age! Dave is a short trans man while John is a very large naga. 

 Once John is full grown, dave is practically bite sized :) And this is why I label the vore as “similar size” and not “same size”. When they were in high school It was much more difficult for John to swallow Dave, but as John grew it got way easier. (bc John was growing and Dave was… not… he never got on puberty blockers so he stopped growing at 14 when he was 5′3″ ) 

8

I’ve got a real story about Kiss, do you want to know? This is true.

I don’t want the third years to leave.

I don’t want Bokuto’s setter to be anyone other than the person who understands him best. I don’t want Fukurodani to lose their heart.

I don’t want Kenma to be left behind by the one person he plays volleyball for. I don’t want Nekoma to huddle before a game and realize they’re waiting for a nerdy pep talk that isn’t coming.

I don’t want Seijoh to feel lost without their senpais’ antics. I don’t want Iwaizumi to constantly worry about Oikawa pushing himself too hard or injuring himself again or beating himself up over not being good enough. I don’t want Oikawa to try and toss to Iwaizumi because he’s in a pinch and realize too late that the toss was too low for his new team’s taller ace.

I don’t want Asahi to crumble without Noya to support him. I don’t want Kageyama to look for the bench during a game and suddenly realize he doesn’t have Suga to lean on, to compete with, to be guided by. I don’t want Ennoshita to feel like no matter how hard he tries he’ll never be as good a captain as Daichi. I don’t want Daichi, Suga, and Asahi to leave the team they believed in from the start, the team they poured their heart and sweat and souls and tears into, the team that is as great as it is because those three never gave up.

I don’t want the third years to leave.