i keep looking.wanted:More Like This
a boy with dark hair and bright eyes with a smile that'll drop my stomach to my feet. a boy that says his heart feels more full when he's holding my hand and will tell me how my eyes remind him of the ocean at night because somehow the water looks deeper when cast in milky, silver light. a boy that'll laugh at the way i wrinkle my nose when i'm confused and will tease me because he knows i like nothing more than to be harassed. one that'll throw me over his shoulder and throw me fully clothed into the pool, that'll call me ridiculous, that'll roll his eyes and sigh. one that'll secretly love the fact that i'm a mess because it keeps things interesting.
a boy that respects the fact that i lay down boundaries but likes to steal kisses around them anyways. a boy that messes up my hair when i'm not looking and bites my lip when i'm not paying attention. a boy that doesn't need me, but wants me all the same. one that has a life of his own but has room to fit me in at his sid
Yes, I Have a PenisYes, I Have A PenisMore Like This
Do not assume (if I hold the door for you),
that I am making a statement
about your inabilities
to open the door for yourself.
If you hold it for me,
I'll say 'thankyou'.
Do not assume (if I pay for the meal),
that I am underestimating
your earning capacity
as a woman.
If you invite me out for a meal,
Do not assume (if I defend your rights),
that I am belittling
the attempts that you have made
to defend your rights yourself.
If you defend my rights,
I'll consider you human.
Patron 'SE' - CountdownThe Coopers’ kitchen was far different from the one in the manor.More Like This
Yes, it had similar equipment, as far as Mitte could tell. The inner wires and hinged door told Mitte that this was an oven, the circles on top told him that that part was a stove. But where the manor’s had been appropriately huge, all its pieces in stainless steel and designed to serve the masses at parties, the Coopers’ was a tiny thing, done up in whites and bright, sunny yellows. If rooms could be such a thing, Mitte would have almost called it cute. He picked up a dish towel with an image of a duckling on it, toyed around with it a bit.
He looked over the various appliances, examining them now with a more critical eye. True, he could have just asked Mal or Coop (or, hell, even their mother, who seemed like a very nice lady) about things. The two had been kind enough to invite him over for celebratory pie, and Mitte--who had never been invited to anyone’s house before--had gladly