my daughter was my sister was my throw pillow was my waitress
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will byers stan first human second
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izzy's playlists!
Cosimo Galluzzi
macklin celebrini has autism
One Nice Bug Per Day
DEAR READER
occasionally subtle

#extradirty

if i look back, i am lost
Misplaced Lens Cap

oozey mess
we're not kids anymore.
Xuebing Du
Sweet Seals For You, Always

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Peter Solarz
TVSTRANGERTHINGS
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@jmsdear
my daughter was my sister was my throw pillow was my waitress
double vision 👁️👁️👁️
Right right right…. 🤭
Irritated as fuck just found out the hairstyle I want for zayne is not unlockable
Not seeing enough skeletor edits guys
It came out good 🚬🙂↔️
If my apple crumble doesn’t come out right I’m kms
hiromi is just like your dead husband nanami (っ◞‸◟ c)
it's in ways that make your chest ache.
it’s the way he loosens his tie when he walks through the door—two tugs, then a slow pull, the same exact rhythm your kento used every evening.
you’re standing in the kitchen, stirring something on the stove you already can’t taste, and for a second you forget. you turn, expecting to see that tired, gentle smile, the one that always made you feel like coming home was worth it. but it’s higuruma. his tie is draped over his shoulder now, and he’s looking at you like he knows exactly what just happened in your head.
"long day?" he asks, his voice low and careful. you nod. he doesn’t push it, he just steps behind you and rests his hand on your lower back, the same spot your kento always touched when he wanted you to know he was there without crowding you. your eyes burn. you keep stirring.
"you’re doing it again," he murmurs after a moment.
"doing what?"
"stirring the same spot. you used to tell him it helped you think."
you stop. the wooden spoon hovers above the pot. "i didn’t realize i was doing that."
"i know." his thumb traces a small circle against your spine. "it’s alright."
he reads the newspaper at the table the way your kento did—pages folded neatly, one hand resting on his chin, his brow furrowed in that particular way that made him look older than he was. you watch him from the doorway sometimes, your arms crossed, your heart doing something complicated in your chest.
your kento used to mutter under his breath when he disagreed with an article. higuruma does the same thing. same cadence. same quiet disdain. you wonder if he knows he’s doing it. you wonder if you’re slowly erasing nanami by noticing these things, or if you’re keeping him alive by seeing him in someone else.
"this writer’s an idiot," higuruma mutters, flipping the page.
"what’d he say?"
"that overtime is a sign of dedication."
you smile despite yourself. "how stupid."
when higuruma makes tea, he always pours yours first. he always lets it steep exactly three minutes, the way you once mentioned liking it. your kento had done that too—quietly, without fanfare, like it was the most natural thing in the world to remember how you took your tea.
you sit across from higuruma at the kitchen table, steam rising between you, and you don’t know whether to thank him or cry. so you just sip, and he watches you over the rim of his own cup, his eyes dark and knowing and unbearably kind.
"you’re quiet tonight," he says.
"just thinking."
"about him?"
you hesitate. "sometimes i kiss your mole and forget whose face i’m looking at."
higuruma touches the small dark spot on his left cheek without thinking. "it’s still mine. even when you forget."
even at night, when he touches you, it’s almost too much.
I get a spine tat and people think it was done crooked but I just have scoliosis
This pic…. hold on I’m tryna spell gorjus
Fuck he’s gonna think I’m a fan
Finished two pieces of toast the fastest I ever have today I love you ihop butter