listening to straight people complain about not being able to find someone to date
If anybody ever makes you feel bad about fan fiction remind them that Wicked is basically a Wizard of Oz college AU and it’s a best selling novel and one of the most popular musicals on Broadway
this is so fucking good that i can’t even queue it it has to be posted NOW.
i think this would even convince the anti-s for at least a SQ brotp. so good.
EVERYBODY STOP AND TAKE A MINUTE.
THIS IS NOT JUSTABOUT ROMANTIC SHIPPING.
THIS IS ABOUT REAL RELATIONSHIP DEVELOPMENT.
NO MATTER WHO YOU WANT TOGETHER ON THIS SHOW-
THIS IS IMPORTANT.
AND THIS IS BEAUTIFUL.
For the love of all that is holy, please let season 4 be about Swan Mills family.
wow ok those are tears. hot tears down my face.
“If a clock could count down to the moment you meet your soul mate, would you want to know?”
lol yes, so then i can shave.
One minute, 37 seconds.
My legs are shaking. Holy cow, there is no way I can do this. None.
One minute, 29 secods.
I glance around at the faces surrounding the room. Of course my Meeting would take place in the gross, overcrowded cafeteria.
One minute, six seconds.
Somewhere within these four walls, someone has the exact same countdown on their wrist. They’re going through the exact same pressure as me.
Mom said I should be excited, not nervous. Yet I still find myself wiping my sweaty palms on my dress. I can’t believe she talked me into wearing a dress. I mean, shouldn’t my Soul Mate meet me as I normally am? All plain jeans, blah shirts, and wild brown curls?
Something deep within me tells me to stand up. I do, drawing the attention of my tablemates. They all know too. They smile encouragingly up at me. I chew my lip nervously.
That same feeling pulls me towards the center of the room. My stomach drops away from me as I take a step in that direction.
I continue in that direction. With each step the tempo of my heart picks up.
17. More rapid.
16. It’s racing.
Oh my god this is it. The moment my life changes forever.
My eyes search frantically around the cafeteria, searching for someone who looks as nervous as me. For someone who’s heading towards their future with no sense of direction like me.
The feeling directs me slightly to the left. I turn to accomodate.
5. My heart has given up entirely.
4. I stop walking.
3. Just waiting left.
2. Everything is about to change.
1. Deep breath.
0000 d 00 h 00 m 00 s
Someone bumps my shoulder. I twirl around and my gray eyes meet blue, blue ones.
“Hello there, love. It appears as though we’re Soul Mates then, eh?”
As my words fail me, the only thing I can think is “I’m so glad I shaved this morning.”
“Thats weird…” I checked my wrist, the clock had just hit the 30 second mark but I looked around and there was no one there. I was a worrisome guy overall but I felt justified, I mean today was the day I was meeting my soul mate. Not that I expected my dream girl to be in the storage closet at work but still I was nervous.
Walking out with a box the boss had requested I walked back to my cash register setting it on the shelf. My wrist hit the 20 second mark
Where was she? I could not help but get worried that an error would pop up or that she was gone and my timer would run out with no response. I panicked, I’d change my own fate if I had to. Running out of time I hurried through the back door. There was a park outside and maybe I was supposed to be there to find my soul mate.
A faint ding of the doorbell hit my ear. Wait was that it?? She was here! I turned around running back to the counter. “Don’t worry I’m just in the back!”
I ran out looking at my wrist as it hit zero. Out of breath “Hi I’m Matt!” Sticking out my hand for a handshake it was met by a firm hand. Meeting my soulmate’s eyes for the first time they spoke.
“I’m Steven.” The man gave a smile “It’s nice to meet you.”
I watch my friend carefully. Her excitement is glowing all over her pretty face. Exactly 2 minutes left, she tells me. We’re waiting at the bus stop and the bus is coming in two minutes. I think she hoped she’d meet them on a beach at sunset or something.
”I mean that’s ok - these things can’t always be romantic I mean my mum met dad when he was working at the book store and it’s not like you can plan it to be romantic I just hoped, I mean everyone hopes don’t they-” she breaks off, looking at me awkwardly. “Sorry. It’s just a big day for me you know.” Yes I do know. You’ve been going on about it for the past year. I smile at her.
”Don’t worry. You nervous? You’ll be ok, you always are,” I grin, determined not to ruin this for her. It’s selfish of me to be moody. This is her future being determined. Right here. In now, precisely 1 minute 30 seconds.
She smiles at me, but it isn’t quite reaching her eyes. She’s restless and keeps tapping her foot. Her eyes are wide with.. fear? Excitement? Nerves? Probably all of them and a thousand more things I can’t imagine. She keeps checking her wrist. So do I. The bus comes around the corner. 1 minute 10 seconds.
”Hey. I’ll leave you alone now ok? The bus is here. I’ll sit a couple of seats away, and be there if you need me,” I say, squeezing her arm reassuringly. “Good luck.” I hope it sounded sincere.
The bus pulls up and I climb on first, taking a quick glance at her while I give the driver my ticket. She’s shaking and looks a little green. I want to give her a hug but know I shouldn’t interrupt now. I look at the passengers and it’s full of pensioners. My heart starts beating frantically. What? I can’t see anyone else at the bus stop. But she’s only 18, she can’t end up with a 80 year old.
I turn around and look at her - she’s breathing hard. The bus driver asks if she’s ok but she ignores him. Her eyebrows are creased and her face is flushed. Oh. Oh no. Stay calm. Someone is probably late. I give her a thumbs up and try to smile reassuringly. I think it’s more of a grimace.
I take a seat near the back. Look at my watch. 25 seconds. She sits down a few seats away.
Suddenly a dark shape runs past my window and a boy jumps on the bus. He has that same frantic look in his eyes. I breathe out with relief.
”Yeah get on, we’re running late,” the driver says, taking his ticket. The boy looks around, carefully stepping towards the seats. He’s tall and handsome, holding a sketchbook. I smile slightly; my friend hates art.
He spots her.
His eyes widen as he walks closer, as if being pulled by an invisible rope.
My friend stands up too, that same rope tying her to him.
1 second -
”I was worried the bus would leave. No way could I miss meeting my soul mate!” he jokes, though he looks just as nervous as she. They smile at each other as they both sit down together. I can’t hear what they’re talking about.
I take a deep breath and let it out slowly. Suddenly I’m crying. Hot tears dropping down my cheeks.
I look at my wrist, scratching at it. Trying to get rid of it.
The numbers have never changed.
They’ve always been at 0.Oh my god that last one…. My heart… The feels….
AGH ALL OF YOU WRITE A BOOK THIS VERY INSTANT. PLEASE.
this is beautiful and everyone needs to read it
i hate you tumblr, fucking breaking my goddamn heart
Then, one day, you’re having dinner with a friend you’ve known for as long as you can remember (or perhaps a friend of the family), and you finally talk to them about your counter. You’re crying, explaining that it’s always been at 0, and so you must not have a soul-mate.
Their eyes widen. Tears begin to form, and they throw their arms around you.
"Mine has always been at 0 too."
And that’s when you know…
10 seconds: the doorbell rings, i get out of my chair
5 seconds: i give the man my money
0 seconds: i open the box. it is the most glorious pizza i have ever seen in my life.
Okay, it’s happening. I’m going to meet my soulmate. It’s a very important moment in everyone’s life, my mother told me this morning.
Am I supposed to be so nervous then?
I’m on the edge of the street, looking in every direction. I’m spinning my head so fast it hurts.
It’s okay. It’s okay. I’m a cute, funny girl. Oh god, will he find me cute? Or will he be a she? Agh, I can’t do it.
Stop passing by, not-my-soulmate people! I need to see him or her coming. Or should I moving myself?
I continue spinning around, I give the back at the street imagining he (or she) will appear from the park, or will go up the stairs of the subway. I feel the heart bumping in my chest.
I’m terrified, but in some way it isn’t anxiety. It’s fear. Fear something will go wrong. But how could it go wrong? I didn’t hear a single story of someone that wasn’t happy with his soulmate. My parents are soulmates. My granparents are soulmates. Why should it go wrong with me?
I start biting my nails. Will my soulmate hate this habit? Or will he or she have it too?
I look straight in the eyes of everyone. My mother said it’s when you look in the eyes that you know, it’s when you meet your soulmate’s eyes that the clock on your arm really reaches the 0.
It’s going to happen.
I will be happy.
I just know it.
There is a screech of brakes behind me and then a thud. People screaming. I jump and turn around: someone just got hit by a car.
Oh my god, it’s horrible.
I try to approach, but there are too much people. My eyes fall on my clock while I outreach trying to pass.
My heart starts racing, too much emotions in few moments. What happened? Why did it stop? Did I moved away from my soulmate - and oh god, how can I think about it in a moment like that?
I finally manage to find a gap and approach to the poor girl who had been hit by the car. She is beautiful. Does she breath? Oh god…
Her eyes are opened, but empty. They are beautiful, still.
I suddenly hear a penetrating bip.
The people around me take a step back, gasping. I don’t understand, did I do something wrong?
Then I look at my clock.
It reached the 0.
Some fluffy cuddly SQ because I’m being bombared with motherfucking feels by some people who need to stop that right now because I’m gonna combust and cry.
The tabloids complain about her looking old, and people laugh at her for that. Then Madonna goes and fixes her face, and they laugh at her for that. Even though they begrudgingly say she looks amazing, they’ll still laugh at her for trying to look young. Then she steps out, looking amazing, and the tabloids go and blow up a picture of her aging hand. Nobody’s doing that to George Clooney, blowing up pictures of his hands! I look at these magazines, and I want to say to them, What’s your point? That she’s aged? Does that surprise you? Or is your ‘point’ an attempt to undercut what she’s achieved? I think it is, even if it’s on a subconscious level. And you probably wouldn’t turn down those hands if they were grabbing you under the table, you fucking idiots.
Shirley Manson on ageism and sexism in Hollywood (from Bullet Magazine, Spring 2012)
LIKE A BOSS.
(gif by thatgirlislikeavirus)