#procrastinize

[littlewitchbee]

go ahead atheists... would you hit him out of the park for a million dollars?

[larkiethings]

shaking my head while playing neko atsume so people know that I don’t support outdoor cats

[getoutofmytardis]

happy neil banging out the tunes day!!!

[monstermonger]

Bookwyrm :3

[nothing-impt]

He is the monster rawr rawr rawr

[itsawritblr]

[justanerd]

Spent 20 minutes editing the Casino Royale poker scene to be chutes and ladders instead of finishing my English homework.

[tooquirkytolose]

Happy Mexican Independece Day from Hatsune Mikuacana

[milkywayes]

you were born to do this

happy N7 Day!

[find prints here!]

[starfilledsky2810]

A thread of Palestinian businesses to support!

Link to Sunbula

Link to Soap

Link to Hanmade Palestine

Link to Palbox

Link to Shop

Link to Paliroots

Link to Taita Leila LTD

Link to West Bank Apparel

Link to Kufiya

Link to Nōl Collective

Link to MEERA ADNAN

Link to Fyrouzi

Link to Tatreez on Tea

Link to Hilweh Market

Link to Darzah

[cuppochino]

impulsively drawn continuation of a previous post

round fat creature faces the consequences

[silverlunarella]

[pebblume]

pots n picks week day 7: free day

[buglaur]

[snail-day]

Satoru lives for your grumpy mornings, makes a whole game out of it, really. How long it takes for you to snap. The second you shuffle into the kitchen, barely picking your feet up, he’s leaning against the counter with a grin that’s way too bright for this hour. Or perhaps for a man who only got roughly three hours of sleep.

“Ohhh, good morning, grumpy butt,” he chirps, voice syrupy sweet and teasing. Those stupidly pretty baby blues twinkle with mischief, and his snow-white hair is all fluffed from sleep, a few strands sticking up where he clearly towel-dried it and called it a day.

You mumble something incoherent and plop into his arms anyway, letting yourself sink into his warmth. Pressing your face into his toned chest and taking a big whiff. He smells like laundry detergent and the faint hint of his cologne, clean, sweet, familiar.

“Awwww,” he coos, dropping into that obnoxious baby voice, arms caging you in as he sways you side to side, “it’s so hard being my sleepy little baby, huh? Sooo tough, such a hard little life you got.”

You groan into his chest, but that only earns you a cascade of kisses, first to your head, then your cheek, your temple, and your nose. Each one loud and wet on purpose.

“Mwah. Mwah. Mwah, oh? What was that? You hate me?” he gasps, planting another exaggerated kiss right on your frown. “You’re so mean in the mornings, baby. I’m delicate like a flower.”

His lashes flutter as he leans in closer, mock-pouting. You hate how good he looks like this, face still soft with sleep, lips plush and pink, that playful curve to his mouth, knowing exactly how far he can push you before you start biting.

He starts walking you backward with all those kisses, cornering you between his strong arms and the kitchen counter's edge until you’re stuck in his little trap. He looks down at you with a bright smile, arms looped lazily around your waist.

“You’re not even denying it,” he hums, voice low and sing-song as he kisses you again, softer this time, lips lingering on yours for a few mere seconds just to taunt again. “You're so cute when you’re cranky. Wanna hit me a little? Maybe a little bite? Go ahead. I can take it. Just don’t stop cuddling me after.”