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#Never too late
janasojka · 28 days
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pick roses at night
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gramarobin · 11 months
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inmyperfectworld · 29 days
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It's NEVER too late to go after your dreams or the career that you want.
It's NEVER too late to go after your education or get one.
It's NEVER too late to heal.
It's NEVER too late to want better for yourself.
It's NEVER too late to learn things.
It's NEVER too late to change the things that you want to change.
It's NEVER too late to find your purpose.
Moral of this post: It's NEVER too late to do anything that you want to do in life, no matter your age or whatever you have going on in life.
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welcometololaland · 2 months
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wip wednesday! I hit 50k on 10 things au today!
“Are you sure your family likes me?” TK asks, leaning on the bar as Carlos reaches across for another glass of wine. Now that the formal part of the evening is over, his top button is undone, his tie pulled slightly loose and his hair a little less perfect. It might have something to do with the seven minutes of heaven in the restrooms earlier, which was outrageously risky, but TK wasn’t about to say no once Carlos dragged him in there.
“I think Tía Lucy wants to adopt you,” Carlos replies, thanking the bartender before shooting TK a wry smile. “Which would make things really complicated. So if she asks, please say—”
“Shut up, dude,” TK snorts. “Be serious. I want them to like me.”
“They like you, TK,” Carlos insists. “My mom is acting like you’re the one marrying my sister. You know it’s rude to show up Eren on his wedding day, right?”
“Ugh,” TK groans, rolling his eyes as Carlos bats him on the arm playfully. “You’re the worst. It wasn’t your sister I was making out with in the bathroom.”
Carlos raises his glass. “Thank god for that.”
“Speaking of which, should we—”
“Do you want to go outside for a bit?” Carlos asks, tilting his head towards the lamp-lit decking. “I hear there’s a dark corner with your name on it.”
open tag and some gentle shoves below
thanks for the tag @kiwiana-writes and @heartstringsduet 💜
tagging some ls parties: @reyesstrand @safeaswrites @bonheur-cafe @carlos-in-glasses @carlos-tk @sznofthesticks @liminalmemories21 @fitzherbertssmolder (maybe a lil art wip?) @birdclowns @cold-blooded-jelly-doughnut @louis-ii-reyes-strand @inexplicablymine (you don't go here but I'm bullying) @rmd-writes @lightningboltreader @strandnreyes @doublel27 @alrightbuckaroo @freneticfloetry @three-drink-amy @herefortarlos @chicgeekgirl89 @basilsunrise @kiwichaeng @lemonlyman-dotcom @ladytessa74 @wandering-night19 @goodways @theghostofashton
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velvet4510 · 2 months
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Note: I’m not including “Lavender’s Blue” from Cinderella (2015) because it was not written for the movie. It’s a 17th century English folk song.
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dumblr · 1 year
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Never Too Late 12/End
Warnings: noncon sexual acts, violence, manipulation.
My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.
This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.
Character: Steve Rogers
Summary: You’re turning forty and life seems to be forging ahead on its one way track, that is until you meet Steve Rogers.
Note: Thanks to all who followed from the very beginning. We did it! We made it to the end.
Thank you. Love you guys!
As always, if you can, please leave some feedback, like and reblog <3
Series Masterlist
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You turned your head to keep the blood from pooling into your throat. You pushed against Steve’s shoulders as he kept you pinned beneath him, legs bent awkwardly as your pants tangled above your knees.
You gurgled and coughed up another glob of blood. You groaned as you shoved against him helplessly.
“Steve, please–” you choked out.
“Shhh, baby,” he snarled into your hairline as he shifted his knees on the seat, “keep talking and you’ll keep getting hurt.”
“Stop! Stop!” You croaked as you curled your fingertips into his rounded muscle, “no–”
He growled, his lips flush to your forehead as he puffed over you. He flicked his fingers up and down your cunt. The hot graze of his touch made you squirm as you hit the window with your hand, his shadow darkening your world as the moon disappeared behind the clouds.
“Don’t–” you pleaded as he danced along your entrance.
“Shut the fuck up,” he sneered and rammed two fingers into you. You back spasmed again and you squeaked as you clutched his collar tightly. “Shh, baby, it’s okay–”
You gritted your teeth and blew out through your nostrils. Pain wracked your hips and spine as he slowly moved his hand, rocking into you deeper and deeper. Your walls clenched him futilely as you threw your fist into his shoulder.
“Ow! Ow! Stop!! Stop! Please!” You begged.
He slid his fingers out of you, scratching along your thigh. You braced yourself against the door and his chest, whining as your back strained with your attempt to get him off you. He felt along the front of his pants as he sat up, his hand on the seat above you as he unzipped his fly.
You gripped the interior of the door as you hit his chest again and again. He pushed his pants down, ignoring your struggle as he bent over you once more. You tensed as he reached between your bodies and brushed his tip along your cunt. 
You wriggled and latched onto the headrest, trying to lift yourself up the seat. You exclaimed once more as another bolt of lightning zipped up your spine. Oh fuck. Your back. 
You hissed as he prodded you harder. Your insides knotted and your heart beat furiously in your chest. This couldn’t be happening.
You closed your eyes, head swirling still from the impact of his fist. He poked around as you squirmed and clasped your hand around the front of his shirt. He thrust into you, a single motion that scoured your walls as he sank to his limit.
You shrieked and arched your back, another jolt thrumming up to your shoulders. He snarled and exhaled as he held himself over you, his elbow above your shoulder. His other hand groped your chest as he began to thrust. 
You gnashed your teeth and clung to the fabric tightly as the pain surged from your core.
“Aw, baby, you’re so fucking tight,” he growled as he rutted, harder and harder. “Fuck, how long’s it been, hm?” He rambled between heavy breaths, “you feel so good on me.”
He slid his knees off the seat as he raised himself above you, slamming back in with all his force. He bent awkwardly in the tight space as you were contorted against the seat, slipping lower and lower with each tilt of his hips. Agony laced through every inch of you.
You unfurled your hand and ran it up to his collar. You felt the skin of his throat and dug in your nails. You scratched him and he grunted, slapping away your hand and twisting your arm up beside your head. The angle put pressure on the joint of your elbow and urged a yelp from you.
He rammed his pelvis down against you, over and over. You snorted back blood and hid beneath your eyelids as heat gathered in your face. Humiliated, hurting, and helpless, you let him use you, bend you, invade you, longing for the end. 
This was all he ever wanted from you. You were just too stupid to see that. It wasn’t your insecurity and you were too old to be naive. You were just as indifferent as you’d always been. Watching the world move around you and doing nothing to stop it.
You snaked your other hand down to touch his hip, to try to slow him as the pain mounted. As it grew unbearable. He didn’t relent. He sped up, faster and faster, his grunts and groans matching the pace of his assault. 
The slap of his flesh filled the compartment and echoed in your ears. The burning in your cunt underlined the thunderous agony coiled around your spine and hips. You couldn’t fight if you tried. You were done. He won. Good ole Captain America could claim victory again.
He whimpered and hung his head down. He breath clouded around your face as he rode out his orgasm. You cringed and writhed as you felt him cum inside you, coating your walls hotly as his motion staggered wildly.
When he stilled, he collapsed over you, your legs bending even higher as the fabric of your pants drew taut beneath him. You pushed your chin up to keep your horror from leaking out. It was over. It was done.
Get off. Get out! Get away! You screamed internally but kept still. You didn’t want to antagonize him again. 
He pulled out inch by inch and you shuddered. He groaned and struggled to move his large body back into the driver seat, dropping down with a growl. Your legs fell limp and you cradled your pulsing elbow. You didn’t dare to open your eyes.
His breath slowly petered out as your heart continued to beat out of rhythm. You heard him jostling in his seat and flinched as suddenly he reached over to yank up your pants. The fly was fucked but he didn’t seem to care. 
He pulled out the seatbelt and clicked it into place. You heard a low crick and peeked out from beneath your lashes. He rolled his neck and buckled himself in. He tapped his fingers on the wheel as he looked you over.
“You look fucking rough,” he taunted as he turned the ignition, “this is gonna fucking hurt too so, try to hold on.”
“What–” you gulped in confusion.
“Gotta make it believable, right?” He shifted the car into gear and you shivered out a weak breath, “court Cap can walk away from it, no problem, but not you.”
He sank his foot down on the pedal and the engine thrummed. Suddenly the car shot forward and he smiled through the windshield.
“Don’t you worry, baby, I’ll take care of you,” he snickered as the tires sped down the highway.
He veered suddenly, spinning the steering wheel so that the car spun and your door collided with the barrier. The sudden crushed forced a wail from you, a sound so horrid you didn’t even realise it was your own voice. You blinked at the cracked windshield and the flashing glow of the headlights.
Your head lulled as your skull rattled violently and you felt a brush along your ear, “it’ll be alright, honey. The ambulance will be here soon.”
Your existence was consumed by a grey haze. The flash of red and blue, familiar and unfamiliar voices, noises all around you. You waded through the fog until finally you broke the cloudy wall. As you came to, so too did a pure white room and the steady beep of a machine. 
The only thing you could think or feel was pain. In your hips, spin, and shoulder. Your head throbbed as your eyes would only open halfway. You tried to look around fully but it hurt too much. You groaned and lifted your hand, tubes taped up your arm and a needle inserted into your vein.
“About time,” Steve intoned as he stood and stretched, startling you.
The memories came flooding back. The crunch of your nose, the constriction of your body against his, the crash of metal and blinking lights. You let your hand fall against your chest and grumbled.
“A few scratches, some bruising, nose is fucked up but you can only blame yourself for that.”
Your head slumped forward. You couldn’t figure out if it was whatever was being pumped into you or you actually didn’t care. You stared at the thin flannel blanket and peek of the hospital gown beneath it. It strains your neck and shoulders terrible and you notice the harness around you.
“You shouldn’t have been distracting me. I wouldn’t have lost control like that.” He reprimanded, “we both could’ve been seriously injured.”
“Whatever,” you uttered.
“Whatever? Don’t you know how lucky you are?”
“You should’ve killed me.”
“Don’t say that.”
“It’s true.”
“No, you don’t say that. Especially in front of your mother. She’s been out in the waiting room all night. For you.”
“And who’s fault is that?”
“You just can’t fucking help yourself, can you?”
You lifted your head and it lolled back against the bed.
“I know I can’t help myself. And no one else can either. So whatever. You win. Congratulations, Captain, another mission completed. You got your dick wet.”
“I win? You win. You get everything you ever wanted and more than you need. A husband. A family.” He turned his palms out, “you get me.”
You wouldn’t say it again. You know it would only make it worse. You’d already said too much. You shrugged and let your body go slack. It all hurt too much to argue.
“I know. You’re right, Steve. You’re exactly what I deserve,” you murmur. “Can I see my mom?”
“Now that’s up to you, isn’t it? Are you going to behave?”
“Look at me, Steve, what am I gonna do? I told you, I give up.”
He jutted out his chin and sighed, “fine, I’ll bring you mother in. She’ll be as happy to see you alive as I’m sure you are to see her.”
You paused, staring at him. His threat was clear. You’re not the only person he was willing to hurt. That was obvious enough when he showed up at your mother’s home. He could’ve killed you, could’ve been done with you, but you were still alive for a reason.
His reasons. 
"I'll go get her."
You watch him leave the room. You deflate against the bed and let out a long breath. You start to feel the layers of pain that cocoon you. From your face, to your back, to your insides. A great cleft of pain thrums in your clavicle and when you move your arm, you cry out.
As you do, a sole squeaks in the hallway and Steve rushes in. Your mother is just behind him as he rushes to you in a charade of concern.
“Sweetheart, don’t move too much,” he says as touches your arm, “your collar bone.”
Your eyes sting with tears and your arm shakes in his grasp. The agony peaks to meet the height of your anger. Whatever they have you on isn’t strong enough.
“Nurse said if you're in pain, to push this,” Steve takes the small cylinder attached to a cord and pushes the blue button at the tip.
You feel a gradual warmth seep into you as you ease back, the tension draining from you as your eyelids drooped helplessly. Your mother’s figure hazed at your other side. You felt her gently brush along your side.
“Oh, honey, I was so terrified when I got the call. I’m so happy you’re okay!” She sniffles, “you should’ve stayed the night, I knew it. Nights like these, it’s no good to be driving so far.”
“Thanks, Maureen,” Steve says as your eyes list back across to him, “you’re probably right but the important thing is we’re okay.”
“And don’t I have you to thank for it,” she preens, “oh, you saved my daughter, Steve. If you hadn’t been with her…”
“She’s strong,” Steve squeezes your hand in his, “I just wish… I could’ve taken it. If it was my side that hit–”
“No, no, oh, no, don’t even say it–”
“You know I’d give anything for her, Maureen,” Steve’s thumb strokes up your wrist, “I love her so much.”
“Mom…” you murmur weakly. Your head lolls under the sedation. He’s lying. Your in danger. Run!
“Sweetie, please don’t trouble yourself,” she pats your other arm, “I’m here. I’m here for you.”
“Me too,” Steve purrs and bends to plant a gentle kiss on your temple. “I’m gonna take care of everything. Get everything we need at the new place and, hm, I’ll have to call her work, make sure they know not to expect her.”
“Let me know if I can do anything,” your mother says.
“Mommmm,” your voice drones out.
“Shhh, dear,” she cradles your hand between both of hers.
“I’m just…” Steve’s words are stunted as his timbre quavers with immaculately acted grief, “I know we’ll make it.” He shudders, “sweetheart, you’re gonna be okay and we’re going to get married.”
“Oh, you will, Steve,” your mom sniffs.
You groan but can’t form words. They’re not talking to you, but about you. Both planning your life for you. With but without you.
“And… and if kids aren’t… aren’t possible…”
“Don’t talk like that.”
“We can figure it out,” he croaks as you feel a hot tear land on your hand, “can’t we, sweetheart?”
“Oh, Steve,” your mother coos and lets go of you.
Her blurry form moves around the bed and she wraps her arms around Steve. It’s as if you’re not even there. You feel like a ghost, standing in a world where no one sees you. He stoops to hug her back but keeps a hold on you. He squeezes until you think your bones might snap.
“It’ll be okay,” your mother coaxes him, “you’re gonna be a great husband and I couldn’t ask for a better son.”
“Maureen,” he utters pathetically. For a moment, you almost believe him. It must be the morphine.
“I know it and you will be an even better father,” she assures him as you watch them part, her hands on his thick arms, “and she’ll be a good mother for you. Won’t you, dear? When you’re all healed up.” Her tone lightens and she lets out a brittle laugh, “I know my daughter, she’s damn stubborn.”
“Oh, I know,” Steve intones, leaning on the bed rail as he eases the vice of his grip, “but she’ll come back from this. And I’m sure it has put everything into perspective. For both of us.”
His words echo as you let your eyelids close. An ominous chant that follows you into the darkness.
Just as you can’t resist the pull of the drus, you can’t fight the man who dangles your world before you. Just as easily as he holds your hand in his. A villain in the mantle of a hero.
It’s too late to cry for help.
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serenityquest · 1 month
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chinzhilla-edits · 12 days
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selfhealingmoments · 1 year
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maybe it’s time you start caring about new people. start seeking new faces instead of staying stuck with old faces who can’t or won’t see you the way you’re deserved to be seen. you are meant to be seen. 🌻
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IN A HURRY
One of Paul’s story or character songs? I’ve never heard him comment on the inspiration. To me, it has a feel of London 1963, London Theatreland and life with The Ashers of Wimpole Street.
It begins with a description of the hectic life of the song’s subject:
“She was always in a hurry, never took the time to look around. She was always one to worry and fret, staring at the ground..Every minute, she'd be rushing, someone always breathing down her neck. Felt like everyone was pushing her down, keeping her in check”
Sound familiar? In The Lyrics, discussing his impressions when he moved in with the Ashers, he says:
“There was not a second that wasn’t accounted for. Jane would go off to her agent, then read for a play, then meet someone for lunch, then have a vocal coach teaching her a Norwich accent for her next thing.”
The third verse gives us:
How could she leave? She's gotta stay, somebody has to sit and wait. Deep in a dream, she hears a voice "It's not too late to celebrate"
Given the frequency with which the chorus and outro feature the phrase “Never Too Late” (41 times, not that I’m counting), you might have expected that to be the song’s title, rather than ‘In A Hurry’. Perhaps that would have drawn a bit too much attention to a particular incident. In December 1963 (16 December according to Dafydd Rees in his book ‘The Beatles 1963: A Year In The Life), Paul and Jane’s relationship became public knowledge when they were photographed together attending Sumner Arthur Long’s play ‘Never Too Late’ at the Prince of Wales Theatre, London.
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“We had decided not to go to the bar, so we were just going to sit it out..I really was not used to the personal burdens imposed by fame, so we were just talking in our seats, and suddenly ten paparazzi came scampering in with those cameras going flash, flash, flash like La Dolca Vita, and then, just as quickly, they all just scampered out again”
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“They were like the Keystone Cops. But oh my God, we were shocked.”
‘In A Hurry, was released as a single along with ‘Home Tonight’, and featured artwork based on the parlour game ‘Exquisite Corpse’.
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‘Exquisite Corpse’ can be played as a drawing game, as in the cover art, or as a word game. I wonder if it was one of the ones played at the dining table at 57 Wimpole Street that Paul recalled to Barry Miles in ‘Many Years From Now’.
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janasojka · 9 months
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Blue night, hand.
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gunsatthaphan · 1 year
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👓🧡.
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im-madam-baby · 10 months
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Never forget your goals and purposes for the future; keep moving forward. It's never too late to start anything. The only thing that's stopping you is yourself. While countless opportunities exist in this world, seize them without hesitation. It's okay to face rejection along the way, as a few of those rejections may lead you to better opportunities. Eventually, you may encounter an unexpected chance that could change your life. Therefore, make the most of your time and seize every opportunity that comes your way, regardless of others' opinions. If you desire it, seize it fearlessly.
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iOpen A Restaurant | iMake New Memories
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