#I would NOT be over it

[somewhereincairparavel]

You mean to tell me that the pevensie siblings had ruled Narnia for DECADES before they had to come back to their normal lives, taking in the fact that time never passed at all in their world, only for them to do algebra and latin again in school all over again?? I wish the psychological aspect of this was expanded more because wtf? They probably hadn't picked up an algebra/latin textbook in decades so they come back and forget basically anything they've learnt in school?? Would it have slowed down their learning progress? Is that why peter was sent to professor kirke's house specifically for tutoring?? because kirke could understand the impact of moving completely different worlds and adjusting to it knowing that he'd be too old to return, while simultaneously continuing his life like nothing happened?? Or am I just reading into it too much because this still kinda blows my mind lol. Their perception of time would've been really fucked up.

[cartoonsinthemorning]

Since you guys liked Marcille as Kermit that much, it seems fitting to thank you for my 12k milestone with MORE Kercille. And this time, Miss Falin is also here.

Thank you so much again everybody! MWAH 💗

[snail-day]

Okay. Breathe, Satoru. You can do this. It's just a sleepover. Just your girlfriend. Just the person you're absolutely, irrevocably obsessed with. Who you're trying really, really hard not to scare off.

Standing in your apartment, hands shoved deep in his pockets to keep from touching everything. You’re flitting around, casual, relaxed, while he’s trying to memorize the shape of your furniture, the smell of your space, the way you hum when you walk into the kitchen.

Satoru's baby-blues locking onto the bathroom door. “I’ll, uh... shower first, if that’s okay?” like it’s the most neutral, chill request ever. It’s not. He’s sweating. His ears are pink. You nod like it’s no big deal - of course it’s no big deal - but to him? It’s a very big deal.

He gently closes the bathroom door behind him. Worries if he makes too much of a sound, he will be banned from your fine establishment. Your things are everywhere. Shampoo bottles, conditioner, your razor, a little candle half-burned on the sink, your loofah hanging from the shower knob, the loofah. He stares at it for too long.

Are we at the loofah-sharing stage? Satoru wonders, frozen in place. It’s pink. Fluffy. It looks soft, and it’s yours, and he’s fighting every stupid urge in his body. “Don’t be weird,” muttering aloud, as if he can command himself into normalcy. Still, his fingers twitch. He holds it. Briefly. Gently. Just for a second. Just to say he did.

Then comes the body wash. He squirts out the tiniest amount and rubs it between his hands like it’s precious perfume. The scent hits him and he nearly slides down the wall. You smell like this. You smell like this all the time. How is he supposed to survive? Because now he smells like you.

Pressing his face into the steam and pretends it’s your neck. He’s sick. Maybe a little pathetic. He knows it. But he’s also just so in love. What can a guy do?

When he steps out, face flushed and hair damp, he feels like a teenage boy at his crush’s house for the first time - which, in his mind, he kinda is. You’re waiting for him in pajamas, makeup wiped off, looking soft and sleepy and so perfectly you. He thinks he might pass out.

And then… brushing teeth together. Should be simple. Should be normal. But nothing is normal around you. He’s beside you at the sink, trying to play it cool while your shoulder brushes his. You hum to yourself while brushing, glancing at him through the mirror, and he nearly foams at the mouth. Or maybe that’s the toothpaste. He’s not sure.

Then he sees it.

A little blob of foam at the corner of your lips.

Something happens to him. Something dark and unspeakable. He wants to kiss it away. He wants to lick it off your mouth like a psychopath. He stares. Blinks. Shakes his head like a wet dog. Absolutely not. No. Stop it.

What’s wrong with you, scolding himself. She’s just brushing her teeth. Like a person. A very pretty, perfect person.

He spits. Rinses. Avoids eye contact. Looks at the drain. Looks at your spit down the drain. Another weird thought. One that must be suppressed.

And then it’s time. Bedtime. Final boss.

Your bed is small. Cozy. Absolutely infested with plushies. He pretends to be annoyed but he secretly loves them. Even if they are plotting to kick him off the edge of the mattress. He climbs in carefully, unsure which plush is your favorite. Unsure what you'd do if he accidentally knocked one little guy off the floor. The blanket smells like your laundry. Like home. Like the future he wants with you.

You’re already under the covers, blinking at him sleepily, smile soft and content. Wearing his shirt and not much else. The fabric rides up your thighs and he has to look away before his brain fully melts. He deserves a prize for not making a move. Deciding to lay on his back, stiff, hands folded like he’s in a coffin. He doesn’t touch you. Not even a pinky. Be good, chanting to himself. Be good. You like her. You love her. You’re not a perv, you’re not a perv.

You shift closer.

A leg brushes his. A sigh escapes your lips. Your hand settles gently on his stomach like it belongs there.

He almost cries, something between a half whimper and a wheeze leaves his throat.

Slowly, carefully, he slides his arm around your waist. You don’t flinch. Don’t pull away. You lean into him.

He swears he hears wedding bells.

You fall asleep just like that, face nestled against his shoulder, breath even and slow. And he lies there, heart racing, brain fried, blinking up at the ceiling, Satoru would be getting no sleep tonight.

His thoughts are a mess: She’s so pretty. Is she really mine? What if I kissed her forehead? No, too soon. Maybe not. God, her skin is soft. I should move in. Tomorrow. Today. Right now. No, bad. Calm down. Be cool. Be a good boyfriend. Don’t get a boner. You’re cuddling. It’s fine. Just breathe. You’re okay. This is okay. Everything is okay.

He wants to. Touch you, that is. Just your waist. Just a hand on your back. Just to pull you closer and feel your heartbeat against his chest. But he doesn’t. He stays perfectly still. He doesn’t want to push anything. You haven’t done that yet, and he’d rather die than make you uncomfortable.

Except nothing’s okay. Because he’s so in love it physically hurts. Because you’re sleeping peacefully and trusting him with this little moment, and all he wants is to stay like this forever.

How are you sleeping so peacefully while he’s over here thinking about nothing but how perfect yoh are?

[vamprisms]

they can't stop you from thinking about gay sex on company time

[chloesimaginationthings]

Harley Sawyer is a very normal man from Poppy playtime

[gongyussy]

make men slutty again.

HEAT STROKE | GQ CHINA Photographer: Wintam; Editor & Image: Shawn Gao Ding; Makeup: Lucas; Hair: Tao Liu; Art: Grade 2 & Lei Min; Art Assistant: Jiang Mi; Models: Kim; Ye Hao, Yu Hang, Ho Jun; Fashion Assistant: Yiyi, Coco; Photography Assistant: Li Zhenxi; Song Luanyi

bonus as rightfully added by @polyabathtub:

[mangozic]

my dead goth son and his friendly neighborhood personified concept of insanity

[sparkoflena]

Kon: Why are you staring at me so intently?

Tim, completely casually: I think I want to stab you with Kryptonite a few times. In different areas. For science.

Kon: ...why is my best friend considering torturing me?

Tim: I'm wondering if it takes you down so badly because it is truly that dangerous to you or if the invulnerablility of Kryptonians gives you a weak pain tolerance.

Kon: And you're asking me, a half human, instead of Clark or Kara?

Tim: They'd start telling Bruce about my "concerning villainous behavior" again.

Kon: And I won't?

Tim: I've kept fighting through pneumonia, a gunshot wound, and broken bones. And you go down when I poke you with a rock. Come on, you've got to be curious.

Kon: ...okay, I am a little curious.

Tim: YES! You won't regret this!

Kon: I will absolutely regret this.

[ttbret]

Fortiche please. Fortiche I’m begging-

[nat-20s]

name a more iconic thing to happen for the fictional qpr community than Donna Noble quite literally meeting her soulmate and being like hmm. there's no one I've ever wanted to fuck less

[jesncin]

"Who Is Superman? A Private Interview with Lois Lane" a fancomic about hope and connection. I've had this story in mind for so long and I'm very excited to be able to share it at last. Thank you for reading, and happy Lunar New Year!

[mariflexion]

Trucy and her aunties on a Europe shopping trip (they got lost)

[soapbbox]

I like that Megatron is essentially leading a bunch of senior citizens

[xamitras]

For many of years I had this tradition of drawing Wirt and the beast once a year to see how much I have improved, then depression hit in 2023 and couldn't continue, but it left so really amazing art in the process

[vvanillavveins]

I don't think we give Jonathan Harker nearly enough credit for his absolutely unhinged choices. In 1897, that pathetic wet cat of a man was written with enough grit, willpower, and raw human stupidity to rival any of our modern horror podcast protagonists. When faced with a centuries-old vampire, in a coffin, drenched in fresh blood, he really thought the best thing to do was to hit it in the face WITH A SHOVEL. The audacity. The misplaced confidence. The sheer desperation. No plan. No hesitation. Running on fear and spite alone. And i fucking love him for it. Truly the character of all time.

[biggest-gaudiest-patronuses]

hero/villain showdown but one of them has a spontaneous medical emergency and the battle gets put on hold while their archnemesis drives them to Urgent Care