#real 🙏

[dingostrash]

Hehe >:3

[businessmogul1st]

When your vibration is high people will avoid you intentionally because they don’t want to experience growth

[noodles-and-tea]

Sooooo unserious

[coffit0]

You're so lovable, Pure Vanilla Cookie

[littlebitofinsanity]

It's on the train...

(Edit: eheh I know this is actually the tube but tubes are just more spook and aesthetic, LOOK AT THAT LIGHTING YUM YUM YUM)

(Edit edit: some of the reblog tags are making me chuckle)

[waterlilyvioletfog]

Currently imagining Trinity Santos trying to bring a girl home for the night. Girl walks in and sees the scrungliest little white dude in the world. shes like what IS that. Santos says yeah. that there’s huckleberry. hes from nebraska. bit of a runt. he catches rats. Whitaker says gee sure is nice to meet one of Dr. Santos’s friends! Do you also know Mr. Krav Maga? Haha why are you putting a sock on the door knob

[hyunpic]

#i got it from my mama

[klance-daydreams]

PLEASE read where the apple falls by @jupiters-junipers!!! you will actually just never be the same. like ever.

[crowleysfall]

i stand with my cancelled wife btw

[zi-vian]

[what-am-i-doing-in-this-fandom]

The Stanleymobile gets its flirting skills from its owner 🤞

[businessmogul1st]

Never fall in love with anything materialistic

Your on your journey, stay focus on the mission

[mobius-m-mobius]

#happy anniversary to remembering this actually happened 😘✌️

Loki S2 Anniversary x Episode 5 - “Science/Fiction”

[ottostoast]

shinichi and his dramatic boyfriend

[eraserbread]

growing old with kento pls🥺🥺

for your twenty-fifth wedding anniversary, kento got you a cat, a kitten, to be exact -- golden, like him, hazel eyes like him. he's your baby, taking over that space in your home that your daughter's move back to tokyo brought out.

just like he always wanted, kento retired early in malaysia, and tokyo's where your daughter chose to stay. school in the city was far more riveting than stewing away in a beachside cottage. and alone for the first time again in nineteen years, you had love to celebrate.

so, he hands you that little purring kitten as soon as you stumble out of bed, smiling at the gentle coos you're giving. looking at you in the rising sun reminds him of how you'd dote over your young daughter twenty years ago. he's always loved you, but seeing your motherhood bloom and grow out of you made him obsessed.

"awh, kento." you're pouting, holding the kitten to your heart. you're in a shorter nightgown, cut above the knees he leans down and closes his hands over. for a fifty-year-old man, that mobility has never gotten lost. in fact, you think he looks the best he's ever have -- greyed roots, shaved stubble, fine lines. so familiar.

"happy twenty-fifth." he replies, kissing over your knee. "been with you longer than I've been alone, now. our marriage's brain is finally fully developed."

"you're such a dad." you scoff, lovingly. "it's a boy? I'm gonna name him kento."

"don't. that's not a very creative name." he stands with a grunt, leaning towards to kiss your lips. little kitty purring between your chests, he lingers.

the only thing you got him for twenty-five years together was his steaming bowl of char kway teow he's hunching over as you head through a night market. you were supposed to be sharing, but you'll let him have it. you can taste the umami on his lips when he kisses you, and that's enough.

the nights gone on in street food carbs, and drowned-out music. scooters whiz past you in the dusty streets, and kento keeps his arm strong around your shoulders, staking that lifelong claim in physicality.

always, you end up by the beach, lying out on plush lounge chairs. you're resting on his chest, heartbeat backing the rush of the waves and the pulse of the fire-dancers in front of you, lighting up the sand. you haven't touched alcohol all night, neither has he, but his sound has you nodding off. you trail your settled-in hands across his homey chest, pressing the tips of your nails into his clothed flesh.

you can feel him shiver, then whisper, "tickles."

then, for that thirty-eighth anniversary, your husband, grey and in his sixties, wakes you up with kisses to the neck. windows open, an early-morning sea breeze rushing through the bedroom, you stir to life and savor the touch.

"i have loved you for forty years. can you believe it?" he mutters, keeping his lips pressed to your skin. "and I still want you like it's the first."

you're smiling into the sheets, still so susceptible to his charms in your older years. he knows you inside and out, upside and down. at this point in life, he is you.

at the foot of the bed, poor old little yuji, your thirteen-year-old ginger cat purrs in sleep. kento's rustling makes him flick an ear, but the old boy is far too comfortable to move.

for year thirty-eight, you made him his favorite breakfast and served it to him as he sits on the balcony with a book in his lap. kento's come to wear glasses, thin-framed ones that hang on the edge of his nose as he grumbles at words.

it's all he lives for now, western poetry, wife handling, and cleaning up after a rowdy cat. every night like clockwork, he calls his daughter in tokyo -- sometimes she doesn't answer, but most of the time she does. for hours, or just as long as she allows, she goes on and on about her life, the woman she's seeing, the home she's buying, and the job she's loving.

kento listens with every ounce of his soul just like he listens to his words, and you, and the sound of the warm langkawi breeze as it hits his face.

out here in the seclusion, there aren't any curses -- no angst. all that matters is the life he's hand-picked, thoughtful to the core.

and that night, his final gift is a sweater you sewed for him, and you. sandy hands, warm cheeks -- you present your naked body to him in the night, letting the full moon guide him right to where he knows to touch.

age is just experience. it's been thirty-eight years of memorizing each other's bodies - intimacy is like oxygen. he reaches for the canyon between your thighs on your secluded, beachside balcony, swallowing the sound of his name like he has for a lifetime.

like clockwork, every single time this starts, he whispers between your lips, "I love you."

and you whisper back, "i love you, too."

[evangelina830]

Habits

//warning for anxiety and a bit of blood (there is comfort)