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

anonymous asked:

LET THOSE TWO HAVE SO M E HAPPINESS UNTARNISHED BY THAT SORTA ANGST D A M N IIIIIIT!!!!! P L E A SE, JUST. LET THEM BE ABLE TO SPEND TIME TOGETHER IN THE PLACE THEY CAN NOT RETURN FROM LET THEM HAVE EACH OTHER L E T T H EM H AV E S O M E FA I N T SE M B L A N C E O F P E A C E GRRRRRRAAHHH!!!!!! (Iamsosorryijustneedthispleeeeasedon'tgolike howyoudidinthetagsfatehasrarecompassionandleniancytowardssuchbondsdon'tshatterwhat'sfractured,nearlybroken,letthisSTAY)

au in which everything is extra bad o vo

“Come on babe, the project’s gettin’ backed, why not celebrate now?” the larger one chimed. 

“The more funds we can get from stakeholders, the better. Can’t score more support by swingin’ back ‘n forth over here. We can celebrate later…” the smaller one shot a glare of impatience toward his partner.

“Orrrr, we can celebrate now like sane yordles while I whisper sweet nothin’s ‘bout what we can do later.” the larger one gently grasped his partner’s chin and laid a kiss on his partner’s lips. As he withdrew, he asked “how’s that sound?” 

The smaller one grumbled furiously and buried his muzzle into his partner’s shirt collar as a response to the question.

“Heh, knew yah’d say yes to that proposition!”