#love!!!!

Happy pride month. Ok myth Noli andddd hacker 007n7! Meow!

Cotton Afternoon Dress, ca. 1872

met museum

My friend decided to draw one of ur OCs, Mia

Ok bye

Saying I love you without ever saying I love you. Saying I love you watching the sunrise. You hate waking up early. Saying I love you 2 hours in on a 4 hour drive. You’re singing at the top of your lungs, passing the time as stars glisten and gleam above. Saying I love you by pausing when they trip over their own feet, your breath held as they slowly right themselves, and consequently, the world. Saying I love you as you wait. Wait for them to catch up, wait for them to smile, wait for them to thank you for waiting for them, though you’ve never once expected their gratitude. Saying I love you with terribly long text messages, drafted over days of too busy to call, too busy to swing by, but never quite busy enough for them to leave your mind.

Saying I love you as an offer to drive them home. You want to invite them in, but would that be too soon, too much, too shallow of an excuse? I love you as an offer to pick them up. Somehow, both of your days sucked before you showed up at their doorstep with your car, but the rain feels like love when you’re following their footsteps in it. I love you when they sleep in your bed, you on your couch, both wishing you didn’t have to be alone. Both wishing you could say I love you. Saying I love you as night turns to day turns to night, stolen naps making up for priceless hours of Don’t break the spell. Saying I love you as your fingers intertwine. Laughing, marveling, at a warmth that for now, For right now, belongs to you. Only you.

Saying I love you as friends because people should be more comfortable loving—cherishing—their friends. Not saying it for the same reason. Were we ever just friends? How can you say I love you as a friend when your love spills over, forms a puddle of What if? Saying I love you when they recognize their own feelings in your own stories. Every sentence of romance, of hope, of longing, resonating in their chest because These are their words and they cling to them because they could, possibly, maybe, be about them. Saying I love you as watermelon juice drips from the corner of your mouth, sticky as the midnight dew that awaits you.

Saying I love you in a fanfic because you can’t get That moment to dissipate. Can’t escape the promise of softness, the pondering of lips (that fleeting freeze of time when you’re staring, staring, staring, but you tuck your chin into their neck instead and breathe deeply because I love you is on the tip of your tongue and if you kissed them then they would certainly taste it), the aching desire to know for sure, for certain, if they love you too. If they can’t bring themselves to say it that way because it’s a one way street. Because it’s harder than saying I love you without ever saying I love you. Because it’s easier to let them rest their legs on your lap, to caress their cheek with a steady palm, to tell them I like you.