#quiet Introspection

[aventurineswife]

Could I request Kinich with a reader who makes toys for children and saurians? Imagine one day, she decides to make Kinich a collection of saurian plushies so he won't be lonely.

A Stitch for Solitude

Summary: Kinich spends his days perched in solitude atop a tree, observing the wilds of Natlan. Despite his detached demeanor, he carries an unspoken loneliness. You, a skilled toymaker, notice his quiet yearning and craft a collection of saurian plushies to bring him warmth and connection.

Tags: Kinich x Reader, Fluff, Mutual Pining, Gift-Giving, Emotional Vulnerability, Quiet Introspection, Slow Burn Connection, Soft Moments.

The sun hung low in the sky, casting a warm golden hue over Natlan as the soft breeze rustled the leaves. Kinich sat alone on the sturdy branches of an ancient tree, gazing out over the vast, untamed landscape. His expression, as always, was unreadable, his posture calm and steady, yet there was an unmistakable solitude to him. He was content with his own company, though a part of him, deep down, could never quite escape the quiet sting of loneliness.

Despite his pragmatic nature, there were moments—rare, fleeting moments—when even Kinich couldn't help but wonder what it would feel like to have someone to share his solitude with. To have something more than the cold, utilitarian world he had built for himself.

As the days passed, you noticed him more often, perched high in the tree, staring into the distance. You’d often see him surrounded by the wild beauty of the mountains, yet there was something about him that felt... detached, as though he was observing the world rather than truly participating in it.

You, on the other hand, were the opposite. A weaver of stories, a creator of joy. The toys you made were renowned throughout the tribe, not only for their craftsmanship but for their charm. The children adored them, and even the saurians seemed to take interest in the playful creations you fashioned from clay, wood, and fur.

One evening, as you worked on a new set of toys for the younger ones, an idea began to take root in your mind. Kinich. The thought wouldn’t leave you. He was always alone, always distant, and yet… there was something about his quiet nature that intrigued you. Perhaps it was the way he carefully observed life around him, as though taking mental notes, even when it seemed like he wasn’t paying attention.

What if… what if you made him something? Something to remind him that he wasn’t as alone as he believed.

The next day, you set to work. You gathered materials: soft furs, durable threads, clay, and small stones to make the eyes. With each stitch, you focused on the saurians that Kinich so often hunted, each one an elegant representation of the creatures he had spent his life mastering. You created small plush versions of these fierce creatures—saurians with bared teeth, with soft, rounded bodies and bright, expressive eyes. Each one was unique, just like the animals he encountered in the wild.

Days passed, and you worked in secret, stitching and stuffing each plush until you had a small collection. When the last plush was complete, you felt a sense of accomplishment, but also a tinge of nervousness. Would Kinich like them? Would he understand the gesture?

You didn’t know what prompted you to do it—perhaps it was the way his eyes sometimes lingered on the children’s toys when they passed by, or the way he seemed to carry an unspoken weight—but you knew that this was something you needed to do.

That evening, as Kinich once again perched in his usual spot in the tree, you approached him, holding the small bundle of plushies carefully in your arms. The sunset bathed everything in a soft orange light, and the world felt quieter, as though nature itself was holding its breath.

“Kinich,” you called softly, approaching him.

He turned, his eyes briefly scanning you before settling on the bundle you carried. “What is it?” he asked, his tone as direct and to-the-point as always, though there was an undercurrent of curiosity.

You smiled, a little shy, but steady. “I made something for you.”

You climbed up beside him on the branches and carefully placed the collection of saurian plushies on the tree bark. Each one was carefully crafted—an imposing Saurian with spiked scales, a smaller, more agile one with bright eyes, and a fearsome, larger creature with a tail that curled protectively around its body.

Kinich’s eyes narrowed slightly as he observed the toys, his usual guarded expression softening just a fraction. He reached out, running his fingers over the smooth fur of one of the plushies. “For me?” he asked, his voice quieter now, as if the question itself caught him off guard.

You nodded, feeling your heart race. “I thought... maybe these could keep you company. You’re always out there alone, hunting, or on your travels. I thought you might like something to remind you that you don’t have to be lonely.”

There was a long pause, and for a moment, Kinich didn’t say anything. He merely stared at the plushies, his fingers brushing over each one with an almost reverent care. It was the most open you’d ever seen him, and it made your heart ache in the best way.

Finally, he spoke, his voice quieter than usual, the edges of it almost... vulnerable. “Why did you make these for me?” he asked, still not quite meeting your gaze.

You shrugged, though your heart felt full. “I just... thought you might like them. I thought maybe you could use something soft and warm to come home to. Something... that’s not cold or calculated. Just something that’s there for you.”

Kinich’s gaze flickered to the plushies once more, his eyes lingering on them with a softness you rarely saw. He picked one up—a small saurian with its mouth slightly open—and held it in his hand, turning it over as if examining it. “You didn’t have to,” he said, the words almost too quiet to catch.

You smiled, your voice gentle. “I wanted to.”

For a long moment, there was only the soft rustle of the wind around you. Kinich’s gaze remained fixed on the plushies, but there was something in the way he held them now—a new tenderness that wasn’t there before. Perhaps it was the weight of the gesture, or perhaps it was the realization that someone had thought of him in a way he had never expected.

Finally, he spoke again, this time with a faint, almost imperceptible smile on his lips. “Thank you, [Name].” The words were simple, but they held a sincerity that made your heart skip a beat.

You nodded, feeling warmth spread through your chest at the acknowledgment. “You’re welcome, Kinich. I’m glad you like them.”

He looked at you then, really looked at you, his eyes soft with something unspoken. “I won’t be lonely anymore,” he said quietly, as if the plushies had somehow bridged a gap he hadn’t even realized was there.

And in that moment, you realized something you hadn’t expected: Kinich wasn’t as cold and distant as he seemed. Beneath the utilitarian exterior, beneath the pragmatism and the stoic demeanor, there was a quiet longing for connection. A connection that, in his own way, he was beginning to accept.

As the night settled in and the stars began to twinkle overhead, you sat in companionable silence on the branches, the plushies between you, and for the first time, Kinich didn’t seem quite so alone.

And you, too, felt the comfort of knowing that, for once, you weren’t alone either.

[versegold]

Borrowed Light

I walk through an old library with rows of books on an afternoon, a candle is lit when I pass, full of thoughts. The light is silent, dancing soft a melody. And I can see the books and myself. I sit beside, read, listen, dream. I never ask if this candle is for me. At some time it is blown out maybe it was time, maybe bright enough. I know there is a room inside of me illuminated only by this single flame.

[sref-favorites]

[epicstoriestime]

Appreciating Life’s Simple Pleasures

If you didn’t need sleep, what would you do with all the extra time? Serene Night Scene Imagine if sleep were no longer a requirement. No more waking up groggy or watching the hours slip away as you wait for morning. Just an endless stretch of time, ready to be filled with whatever your heart desires. If I didn’t need to sleep, I know exactly how I’d spend those extra hours. First, I’d lean…

[minimujina]

wanderer in his season of healing makes me so happy. i love that he is safe enough to become softer again, that he is regaining some of his previously “weak” attributes and finding peace with them. he is becoming measured and introspective, and thinking before he speaks, perhaps a result of both his healing and his melancholy; i think it’s beautiful that he is finally able to safely feel his sadness and process the things that have happened. he is simultaneously finding peace and feeling all the difficult emotions he previously consumed with anger. it is painful, but right.

his sense of humor is still intact, certainly rough around the edges as you’d expect, though much less biting than before. it’s easy to tell that most anything aggressive he says is a front, a front that he is no longer concerned with presenting as absolute truth. perhaps the front is his sense of humor, and his affection is all thinly veiled behind jabs and sour grumbles—he is not willing to divulge the intimate details of that, however, preferring to leave it up to interpretation.

i just think of him and his healing and i feel like if he were to fall in love, it would be such a sweet and gentle and quiet sort of thing, just like his newfound peace. he ponders over many things, brooding by himself as much as he can, though he occasionally allows space for others to brood with him. that, i think, is something unique he may grow in. there are people who cannot tolerate strong emotions in themselves and certainly not in others—but he is the kind of person who can. he is the kind of person you could sit with and exist in your sadness and just be sad, and that’s okay. he’s not offering words of comfort or anything, but he doesn’t need to. anything he’d say would be useless anyways, he knows what it’s like and knows that a presence is enough and existing in your emotions safely is enough. he can appreciate someone who is straightforward about feeling unwell, who doesn’t seek pity, who is alright with sitting in the mud. he will gladly sit with you, then, as long as you don’t expect him to get all mushy about things.

he would do well falling in love quietly, not having to beat around the bush. naturally, pieces would fall into place, and he’d find himself yearning to be in the presence of another in a way he’d never before experienced. he had never really wanted to be around anyone, had never sought out anyone’s presence. but once he has been treated gently, has fallen softly into the arms of a likened soul who has the patience and understanding to touch his rough edges without recoiling, he finds his third space being with this new safe person.

and despite his reluctance to be anything but mysterious and nonchalant, i believe wanderer in his healing season would become quite the romantic. not in the sappy sense, but in the quiet love sense i’ve been talking about. firm and protective, subtle and gentle, almost gentlemanlike if it weren’t for his falsely rotten attitude he enjoyed projecting. romantic in a princely way, in a reverently respectful way, in a grotesquely wholesome way.

only the most chaste touches and kisses; he’s still getting used to affection, and would abhor pda. in private he’s much more open to being touched, because he is safe. if he is not safe, he is deeply conditioned to be conscious of his vulnerabilities, and it’s something that will take a lot of time to override, if even at all. but it’s a massive and beautiful step that he is even willing to receive affection at all, that he would want it from a partner in any amount.

hates eye contact, likes playing with hands. likes tracing veins and creases in skin and freckles and scars; he finds them fascinating, as he has nothing of the sort on his artificial body. one of his unique ways he shows affection is what could be called “studying” you. he likes to brood (with you there; perhaps it could be called parallel brooding) and take your arm and trace all the splotches, imperfections, veins, tendons he can find. he likes to touch more than he likes to be touched i think. perhaps he becomes amusingly selfish in this way. perhaps he is more averse to receiving than giving the affection because his disgust towards himself still lingers. perhaps he still has harmful core beliefs to unlearn.

i think he is full of a love that is strong and quiet, a love that he gives so sparingly, and only in pieces, never all at once. unless, that is, someone comes along and manages to drag it all out like a magnet—his carefully crafted exterior is in pieces, just like that! but oh, once someone is in possession of his love, he begins to know them so intimately, more intimately than he lets on. he so deeply knows who he loves and he knows how to give and to take action and so he does it, silently, for he is adept at perceiving the needs of his loved ones. reading body language and facial expressions is second nature to him at this point; nothing can get past him.

he studies you wordlessly with the expression of a cat who loves and reveres its human, except it’s the kind of cat who believes it owns the human, not the other way around. you’re his responsibility that he has taken on like an extension of himself because he loves you, and you have loved him, and now he hardly wants you out of his sight. his journey of rediscovery and learning self acceptance has been mentally and emotionally arduous, but ever since you came in and made loving him seem so easy, he’s felt much more at peace, and has had the capacity to reflect and process with much more freedom to sincerely feel.

stupid fictional character i hate him i hate him so much he is not real and i hate him

[dk-thrive]

You were silent the whole time. Not the momentary silence of someone searching for the right words, but silence for its own sake. An introspective silence, complete in and of itself… And I kept silent as well. My silence, however, was that of a person unable to find the right words.

— Haruki Murakami, The City and Its Uncertain Walls. (Trans. Philip Gabriel) (Knopf, November 19, 2024)

[quietlotus]

“The quieter you become the more you can hear.”

— Ram Dass

[coldjustness]

Yes people like to laugh and make fun of Neve Gallus for staring off into the distance in the Lighthouse, keeping an eye on the sky to make sure it doesn’t get you all, but I have a question. HAVE YOU ACTUALLY GONE TO THE PLACES NEVE STANDS TO WATCH FOR ANOMALIES??

ITS RIGHT NEXT TO HER OFFICE TOO.

[mythboundcal]

The Last Person to Say My Name That Way Naruto (Kakashi) Fanfic by MythboundCal

He dreams of her in water.

Not the battlefield. Not the mud and blood and the moment everything went wrong. Just… water. Still. Cool. Quiet.

Rin sits with her feet in the stream. Not smiling, not angry—just there. Like the past didn’t happen. Or maybe it hasn’t yet.

“Kakashi,” she says, and that’s the part that breaks him.

Not her face. Not her voice. But the way she says his name. Like it still means something good.

He doesn’t speak. Not yet. Not in these dreams. He just sits. A little downstream. Close enough to feel the ripples.

“You still think it was your fault,” she says after a while, plucking a petal from the water. “It wasn’t.”

“You died,” he replies. The petal slips through her fingers.

“So did you,” she says.

That part stings. Not because it’s untrue—but because she says it without blame.

Kakashi stares at the water. There’s no reflection. There never is.

“I’m not looking for forgiveness,” he says.

Rin hums. “Good. Because I’m not offering it.”

A pause.

“I’m just here.”

And somehow, that’s worse.

Because he wants to be punished. He wants her to scream. To cry. To make him say it out loud. But Rin… is just kind. Like she always was. And it guts him in ways the war never did.

She stands. Water doesn’t cling to her feet. She leaves no footprints on the grass.

He doesn’t look up. But she touches his shoulder. And for a moment, his whole body remembers what it was like to be chosen without effort.

“Try again,” she says gently. “And let someone say your name the way I used to.”

She fades before he can answer. She always does.

But when he wakes up, Kakashi whispers it to the ceiling anyway—

“Rin.”

And the way it echoes in his own voice… almost sounds like hope.

[atomicrebelfire]

Still on the Line

quiet melancholy, unspoken connection, gentle ache, muted hope

📞 Read on AO3

Buck doesn’t speak. Tommy doesn’t either. But sometimes a phone call with no words can still say everything.

They just listen. Like silence counts for something. Like maybe it’s enough—for now.

— Why wasn’t he invited to the dinner?? So I did the only rational thing, gave him a quiet couch and a phone call. Let’s make him sadder, I guess.

By the end of 8x13, Buck looked so quiet. So subdued. And of course, I went, what if he called Tommy that night? Not to fix anything. Not to explain. Just… to feel his presence.

So yeah, this one’s about loneliness that doesn’t feel bitter. About being tired, and still reaching out. It's soft. It's simple. And maybe a little sad in the way that still leaves room for hope.

It’s not a fix-it. Not a heartbreak fic. It’s just… a pause. An exhale. A connection that lingers, even when neither of them speaks.

—

✨ For anyone who’s ever felt that ache and didn’t have the words. And for those of us who keep finding comfort in the quiet. 💙

—

~Excerpt ~ The line picks up after two rings. Tommy doesn’t say anything right away. Neither does Buck. Just breathing. Quiet background sounds on both ends. —

💥 Short, introspective, and quietly hopeful. For anyone who needed a little softness today. Not canon, of course—but lovingly imagined.

[endrinstone]

Since it looks like ivory's streams are gone now, I compiled a list of all of her Showtime SMP streams, so that there's at least some record of their existence. I provided links (in blue) to alternative povs of the events, if any exist for the given day, and included brief descriptions of what happened. In parentheses are the titles and links of the now deleted streams. Enjoy!

All dates are in 2023.

9. 6. ivory's video. Gets gear, and a horse named Lewidor. Not in character. The video Becoming a Minecraft Dictator is a summary of the first few days, with kinda a more self-aware, comedic take on it. (Title: its showtime.)

10. 6. Zolister. Announces her Watchkeeper reign, then talks about morals with Vi and chat. (Title: ivory makes an announcement)

12. 6. ivory's video. Hunts down her first person, Rylan. The video Hunting Minecraft’s Most Elusive Player sums it up very well. (Title: showtime smp)

13.6. None. Makes a grave for her horse Lewidor with Vi. Vi then shows her his therapy office. (Title: lewidor's funeral)

22. 6. Vi. Gets introduced to kantje and Effy. Kills Cupid, then Mugm in an arena duel, then Rylan. Then hangs out with Vi. (Title: SHOWTIME SMP)

25. 6. None. Builds a drowned farm (with Vi and Loppezz, if I remember correctly), and kills Tidus in a very drawn out battle. (Title: happy tuesday.)

28. 6. Nebula. Killing Strobe, which she felt really bad for. (Title: i love murder.)

2. 7. Nebula. Killing Nebula. (Title: i am normal!!!!!!!!!!!!!!)

4. 7. Zolister and Vi. Gets hunted down by a group of people. The bit where she gets hunted is gone now though. (Title: frog)

5. 7.  None. Family roadtrip with Vi, Zolister and Rasplin. Ends with Vi trying (and succeeding) to prevent the other three from killing each other. (Title: SNOG)

9. 7.  kantje. Casino opening day, she threatens the owners after they put her kill list up for auction. (Title: shoe time)

16. 7. Vi and Zolister and kantje. The petition against ivory's regime. She refuses to step down, and gets killed repeatedly. (Title: SHOWTIME SMP SUNDAY and the n NIERAUTOMAA) 

17. 7.  None. VN43 makes a deal with her: he will provide her with resources, and in exchange she will give him some power if she wins the election. Both are very willing to betray each other. (Title: nothing - showtime smp AND THEN OMORI)

21. 7. Vi. Talks with Vi, looks for a location for a new base, briefly talks with Win, Trashy, and Divy. (Title: showtime smp - WAHOO)

23. 7. None. Looking for a potential base location and grinding. She (half by accident, half on purpose) finds someone’s secret base. Not in character. (Title: SHOWTIME SMP)

26. 7. None. Just grinding for resources. Not in character. (Title: showtime smp CHILLING. NO MURDER.)

6. 8. Zolister. Gets told about The Silencers by kantje, kills Zolister, tears down her house. She starts "glitching out", reminiscent of the I Killed God video. Alluded/talked to Ebony (clarification). (Title: showtime smp sunday)

7. 8. None. Renovating an ancient city, getting rid of the shriekers. Not in character. (Title: im going to kil)

9. 8. None. Hangs out with CherryNyx, who asks her questions about humanity. Then works on her base. (Title: im)

13. 8. None. Building an iron farm in her base. Not in character. (Title: gorgle)

18. 8. Vi. The election. (Title: SHOWTIME SMP ELECTION)

Bonus: ivory didn’t stream these, but they are relevant. If you have more of these, let me know.

23. 6. Vi: Vi and ivory hang out, and discuss ivory's mental state.

20. 8. Win/Boba/ Vi: ivory’s goodbye letter.

28. 10. Vi: (Unborn Solipsism) has a scene where ivory tells Vi goodbye.

Bonus two: these ivory streams were not actually on Showtime, but were related. Not super useful information, but here you go.

30. 6. gug. Analysing her video Becoming a Minecraft Dictator.

13. 7. WEEE. Analysing her video Hunting Minecraft’s Most Elusive Player.

18. 7. showtime smp reading stream (then drawing). Reading Showtime SMP fanfics.

31. 7. showtime smp base planning. In a creative world, planning out the design of her ancient city base.

[aventurineswife]

“Reqs are open and my inbox is empty‼️‼️”

Not for long. (Now I sleep, ehe.)

—I’d absolutely adore you to write a scenario for Dan Heng, Sunday, and Aventurine (Possibly Shadow if you feel real extra tonight.)

How would each character react towards their partner falling asleep against them? Whether it’s late at night, early morning, they’re simply too comfortable to keep themselves awake.. and this would dawn on our dear characters. Feeling a sense of warmth, knowing their presence brings such a high level of comfort n’ security, where we—the reader fall asleep with ease no matter where we are so long as we have them. 💙✨

Anchored in Stillness

Tags: Dan Heng x Reader, Sunday x Reader, Aventurine x Reader, Comfort, Quiet Moments Softness, Vulnerability Gentle Affection, Bonding, Emotional Reflection, Introspection, Slow Burn, Established Relationship.

It was late in the quiet hours of the night, the gentle hum of the Astral Express barely audible as it sailed through the endless expanse of space. Dan Heng sat in a corner of the lounge, eyes scanning a book that had long since lost its grip on his attention. His focus, though steady and disciplined as always, was elsewhere now. The warmth of the room, combined with the soft whirring of the train, created a sense of peace he rarely afforded himself.

It was then that he felt it—soft pressure on his shoulder. His eyes drifted to his side, and he froze for a moment. There, resting against him, was you, your body relaxed in a deep, untroubled sleep. Your presence, warm and quiet, was almost a contrast to his own habitual distance. Dan Heng’s gaze softened slightly, the weight of the moment settling over him.

His lips parted, but no words came. He didn’t want to disturb you. There was something deeply comforting about this—how, even in the quietest, most vulnerable moment, you trusted him to be your anchor. He didn’t feel the need to say anything. The connection was unspoken, but it was real.

Dan Heng shifted subtly, ensuring his posture was just right so you could remain comfortable. He could feel the steady rhythm of your breathing against him, each inhale a small reassurance. It was in these moments, in the quiet stillness of the night, that he allowed himself a brief reprieve from the guilt, from the weight of the past that clung to him so tightly. Here, now, in the silence, he felt something akin to peace. He wasn’t alone—not anymore.

And as you continued to sleep soundly, his own eyes fluttered closed, the faintest trace of a sigh escaping his lips. For the first time in a long while, he wasn’t running from something.

The moonlight outside cast a soft glow over the Astral Express, and the cabin was bathed in a tranquil, almost ethereal light. Sunday sat at the edge of the couch, a book forgotten in his lap. His eyes wandered to the window, but his thoughts drifted elsewhere. The gentle rhythm of the train’s movement was lulling, but it wasn’t what held his attention tonight.

It was the soft, rhythmic sound of breathing beside him. He turned, and there, curled up against his side, was you, eyes closed in peaceful slumber. Your body was relaxed, the weight of your head resting against his shoulder. For a moment, Sunday merely watched you, his eyes softening as he observed the vulnerability you showed in your sleep.

His wings fluttered slightly, as if subconsciously reacting to the warmth you exuded. He felt an unfamiliar warmth in his chest—a sense of duty, yes, but something deeper, too. A connection that went beyond his usual capacity for empathy. It was the kind of bond that, despite all his doubts and internal struggles, felt undeniably right.

He felt your presence, steady and grounding, and it soothed him in ways he couldn’t quite describe. The idea that he could be someone who provided comfort—that he could be the source of someone else’s peace—was something he had never fully embraced before. Yet, here it was, real and undeniable.

Sunday’s breath caught for a moment as he allowed himself the luxury of simply being in the moment. He was so used to thinking of others, to sacrificing for the collective good, that he often forgot how to simply be for himself. But with you here, asleep and safe, he felt a strange sense of ease. It was a quiet reassurance, like a whisper in his heart that reminded him of the small, beautiful connections that made life worth living.

His hand shifted slightly, resting over your shoulder, fingers brushing lightly against your skin. He wasn’t sure if you were aware of his touch, but it didn’t matter. The warmth between you was enough, and with a soft sigh, Sunday closed his eyes for a brief moment. There, in the stillness, he allowed himself the rare indulgence of peace.

Aventurine, ever the master of managing his surroundings, sat in his luxurious chair, surveying the quiet room with a calculated detachment. It was well into the night, and the flickering light of a candle danced across the polished surfaces of the cabin, casting long shadows on the walls. He should have been focusing on the many schemes, the next move in the game, but something about tonight felt different.

He had thought he was alone in the room, but as he shifted slightly in his chair, he felt a warmth at his side. Looking down, he saw you, your head gently resting against his shoulder, your body soft and relaxed as you drifted off to sleep. Your presence was unexpected, yet it wasn’t unwelcome.

Aventurine’s eyes narrowed slightly, the usual hint of calculation in his gaze replaced by something softer. He had never been one to let his guard down, not even for a moment, but here he was, caught off-guard by the intimacy of it all. His mind raced as he quickly calculated the right course of action—should he move? Should he speak?

But then he paused.

Your presence, your comfort, filled the space around him. The gentle rise and fall of your chest, the warmth radiating from you—it was an unexpected peace, a momentary break from the endless games of strategy he played with his life. For all his calculated risks and meticulous plans, he hadn’t anticipated something as simple as this.

He allowed himself a rare, almost imperceptible smile, his eyes flickering with a touch of vulnerability—just for a moment. His gloved hand moved almost instinctively, brushing a loose strand of hair from your face, his touch gentle despite the harshness of his demeanor. He hadn’t realized how much he had longed for this kind of closeness, this kind of warmth.

The silence was heavy with unspoken words, the tension of his past and his ambition swirling just beneath the surface, but for now, Aventurine let it all fade into the background. Your presence grounded him, and for the first time in a long while, the thrill of the gamble didn’t feel so urgent. With a quiet sigh, he allowed his body to relax, his hand resting on the armrest of the chair as he let his thoughts drift, your warmth a silent reminder of the connection he never quite understood but desperately needed.

In the soft silence of the night, Aventurine let the game rest, just for a while.

[eggplantgifs]

Kazuki Tomono: Halston » 2023 Japanese Nationals

[stanford-photography]

Moscow Dawn 1999 By Jeff Stanford, 2024 Buy prints at: https://jeff-stanford.pixels.com/

[coldjustness-archive]

Can’t believe BioWare created Neve and Rana, with the dynamic they have and said yes, these women are friends.

[quietlotus]

“The quieter you become the more you can hear.”

— Ram Dass