Boss Is Asleep, Cannot Stop Me From Frogposting

Boss is asleep, cannot stop me from frogposting

rb to tell ur mutuals ur fond of them

So I can't grow plants, but I do pretty good at keeping our raised garden crops alive. Dad does the hard part, I just keep them watered. These are our pepper plants.

New in my world: dad is a misogynist because of double standards 🙄

Like... I get it. You are almost a 60 year old white man. You are in excruciating physical pain (he really is).

You are pissed that women are allowed to look at a male gymnast's crotch and be like,'I wanna bang', but men can not look and say the same thing about female gymnasts.

In fact, saying you want to bust them in the face with a baseball bat and then a giant dildo is tooooootally normal.

Not deep-rooted misogyny at all 🙄

This man accuses me of being a misandrist just because I'm a feminist, defend what women wear, and want humanity to be granted the same opportunities that rich white men have had for years... you know.. being a decent fucking human?

✨soft asks✨

What song makes you feel better?

What is your go to comfort show?

Reading or writing? Why?

Whats your favorite feeling?

How do you like to take care of yourself?

What’s your favorite candle scent?

Who do you feel most like yourself around?

Whats a fabric/texture that’s nostalgic for you?

Best childhood moment?

When was the last time you laughed so hard you cried? (or just felt really good afterwards)

Do you have a comfort item? Tell us about it!

What calms you down?

Bath or shower to relax?

Whats something upcoming that you’re excited for?

Comfort food?

What’s something you want to create soon?

How do you feel best loved?

What age in life do you think you’ll feel most yourself at?

Have you ever written or received a love letter?

Tell us about a memory you hold close to your heart.

Tea, Coffee, or hot cocoa?

Name of your favorite playlist?

Have you ever received flowers?

Who is your bestfriend?

If your soul was a color, what would it be?

If you could live anywhere with anyone you want, where would it be and who would you bring?

Do you like to garden? Have you ever grown something?

What are you proudest of?

Are you a kind person?

What do your hobbies look like?

nanami kento likes doing the crossword in the mornings, it is part of his routine.

sitting in the kitchen, coffee on the table, some light breakfast to go along with it, and you — next to him.

his legs crossed, the newspaper rested on his lap, he casually takes your hand into his and intertwines his fingers with yours as he works his way through the word game. every now and then drawing your hand close to his lips and planting a soft peck on it.

his expression rarely changes, no matter how tricky the clue is — he always approaches it calmly. because, he always has the answer.

except for this one.

“could you please take a look at this?”, he asks, without peeling his eyes off the paper.

this is a surprise, it must be quite the question — you think, but — “sure”, you mutter. “let me see”, you lean in as he points at the clue with the tip of his pencil.

proposal, asking for a hand — it reads.

you squint. hmm.

14 letters — you count. hmm . . .

“w-i-l-l y-o-u m-a-r-r-y m-e”, you spell out loud. easy. you wonder why he got stuck on that one in the first place—

oh.

the realization hits after you look at him.

his eyes are still expecting, your answer.

“what do you think? will you?”

a/n: of course, he had to pull some strings to make this crossword happen. he’s been meaning to propose to you for a while but never really knew how to go about it exactly, until this idea came to him one day and he thought it was the most befitting, perfect. the ring is in his pocket, and he’s been quite nervous all morning — although he never showed it.