Flowers growing in eggshells on my windowsill. Lemonade sunlight streaming in. A gray kitty I can name Alice. 

Saturdays I write grocery lists on newspaper margins. I drink tea with milk, honey, and two scoops of real sugar. Blueberry waffles are for Sundays. It’s never the frozen kind.

There’s a collection of glass figurines. The radio is always playing. I read books during bubble baths and call my mom on Mondays.

Christmas light cafes and Tuesday lunch dates. Almond croissants dreams under clouds shaped like umbrellas. 

Wednesdays are for falling in love. Thursday’s reserved for Grey’s Anatomy. Fridays take me on unexpected adventures.

It’s a love story and it isn’t.

—  A scribbler // Wednesdays Are For Falling In Love

i-likecalibrations asked:

I request number 6 for Shenko, please? :)

Kaidan’s chest burned and tears blurred his vision as he desperately clawed at the rubble, his bloodied fingers no longer feeling the pain as he dug loose chunks of concrete and steel. His biotics strained as he used them to move the larger pieces, the heat from the implant searing into his skull; his head pounding from the strain. A hand, pale and bloodless, was revealed as he heaved aside a large slab and he choked on a sob. 

Oh God, please no.

“Shepard? Baby?” He seized the hand, squeezing the boneless fingers and searching for some sign of life; a movement, some heat, a biotic spark. Some sign that she was still down there, still alive, still with him.

He felt nothing.

“No, no, no.” The words were ripped from his throat on a ragged breath, and Kaidan renewed his efforts to pull the blocks off of her. “Please, hang on, love. I’m here. I’m here.”

Others joined him, helping hands that tried to ease him back and reassure him, but he snarled when they tried to make him leave. He didn’t care, he didn’t need their help. He had to save Shepard. He couldn’t lose her again.

Not again. Please not again.

Finally, with a biotic pull that left him reeling and dizzy, he Lifted a steel girder from her body and tossed it to the side. His biotics whipped through the air around him as he fell to his knees, frightened, and scraped the loose pebbles and stones from her broken body. Blood trickled from the corner of her mouth, and her eyes, beautiful and blue, stared up at him.

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Scribble-Doodle: The Joke

Something light and funny for a change…


“And remember our first meeting?” Magnus asks, carding his fingers through his lover’s hair.

Alec makes a frowny face. “You mean at the club? When I saved your life?”

“No, later on, in my lair,” Magnus corrects him.

Alec rolls his eyes. “I can’t believe you call it that. By the way, I still don’t understand the joke.”

Magnus lifts his head from his pillow to look down at his lover who’s lying sideways on their bed, feet dangling over the edge, head propped on Magnus’ stomach. “Which one? I told many that night. You were a hard nut to crack.” He tugs at Alec’s hair gently. 

Hey!” Alec exclaims softly and pokes Magnus in the ribs. “Who are you calling a nut?”

Magnus laughs, making Alec’s head bounce. “You’re a very, very lovely nut. The joke?” he adds.

“Oh, right. The one with the dirty lair? You said yours was downright sloppy.”

Magnus guffaws so hard that Alec sits up to save himself from head injury. “You innocent lamb, you!” he wheezes out breathlessly.

Alec frowns down at him. “What?” he asks. And when Magnus laughs even harder, curling up on himself, Alec pokes him in the ribs again. “What? Explain it to me. Magnus! Why are you laughing like a loon? Magnus?”