#it’s very soft and sweet and cute

[gojonanami]

Omg a best friend’s brother fic with Choso pleaseeeeee😭😭😭🫶🏻

writing it right now!! gonna hopefully finish it up tomorrow - I’m getting to some of the last scenes :)

[vanessavixenx2]

If love is blind, why is lingerie so popular? - Dorothy Parker 🤍 Vv xo

[shima-draws]

AAAAAAAAAA WAIT WAIT if you finished wci then i gotta know how you felt during judge and luffy's final conversation when he starts listing all of the qualities he thinks are sanji's worst and then luffy waves him off w/o responding and is like 'wow why did he say all those nice things abt you?' and sanji's so bashful abt it

UGLY SOBS GODDDDD I cannot believe he actually said that 😭 I love that what traits Judge sees as “failures” Luffy sees as complete successes surrounding Sanji’s character. And he was so adorably oblivious too Judge was just shouting at them and Luffy was like “Okay yeah and he’s super pretty and he has nice abs and a cute butt, what’re you so mad about?” LMAO

[canisalbus]

hello! I just wanted say I simply adore your art and designs. They're so....graceful? Like, when I look at your OCs (especially Vasco) it's just to flowey and soft.

Vasco's ears look so buttery <3

I've never looked at art and thought 'yeah, it would feel this way' but for your art I do.

P.S. I think if your art was a being and the ocean was a being she would like your art. <3

That's so nice to hear, thank you so much! <3

[cheruib]

my cats my reason to be happy

[anavilante]

All my thoughts now about

Bottom Gale Cleven Omega Gale Cleven

Mpreg Gale Cleven Soft Gale Cleven Domestic Gale Cleven

[dirtytransmasc]

HC time:

Aegon bear hugs Daeron, damn near crushing him, every time he comes to visit from Oldtown, and announces very loudly (and typically very drunkly) to his siblings (who are right next to him and can very plainly see that there brother is standing right there and might have already said their greetings) that their brother is home and quickly calls for wine so they can celebrate.

they share hugs and stories before sitting somewhere they won't be bothered until they run out of wine. it almost always ends with Aegon lovingly draped across his siblings and either Aemond or later Daeron (once he's big enough for it) dragging him to his chambers where he will vice grip around their waist and they end up giving in to an afternoon in his bed (the other two will shortly follow with books and other entertainment and Helaena will bring the babes).

aegon missed his littlest brother and wants a day to be a soft and squishy mess. none of them, not even Aemond, will complain about cuddles.

[that-foul-legacy-lover]

FINALL SOMEONE WHO ALSO THINKS FOUL LEGACY IS HOT

hear ME OUT ON THIS:

Childe going into Foul Legacy while you two are sparring (for shits and giggles yk how gingers are /j) and instead of being terrified, you see it as a big puppy askdfkad I JUST WANT TO PET IT IS THAT TOO MUCH TO ASK HOYOVERSE???

you. you get it

when he transforms into Foul Legacy, your stance changes almost INSTANTLY, going from battle-ready to staring at him, eyes wide and hands covering your mouth. Childe tilts his head, a bit concerned for you- you're still sparring, right? so why is your weapon on the floor?

as you step closer Childe lowers his spear, instinctively trying to make himself seem smaller- if it was anyone else he'd use this opening to attack, but he doesn't want to scare you at all. your fingers twitch, hand extending before drawing back slightly

"Can I...?"

Childe blinks, finally understanding what you're asking, and lowers himself further so you can rest your hand in his fluffy copper hair, wings flitting at your gasp of delight. gently you stroke his ginger locks, combing and untangling it with your fingers, ruffling it, scritching behind his horns, and Childe finds himself melting into your touch, spear clattering onto the floor. he sits at your feet, leaning against your chest as you pet him, letting out small coos and chirps of bliss

purr

you do a double take, glancing down at Childe- yes, he's purring, his Foul Legacy form is purring and nuzzling against your hands, gleaming eye slipping shut. when you try to pull your hands away, Childe whines, looking at you imploringly and delicately grasping your wrists to pull them back, re-settling your hands in his hair. you gradually make your way downwards, scratching underneath his chin, and Childe cranes his head backwards in sheer delight, happy squeaks and trills coming from his mouth

"So cute..."

Childe chitters at your words, fur fluffing up with pride- his favorite person thinks he's cute!! he just about turns into a monster-y puddle when you swoop down and leave a kiss on his forehead

needless to say, not a lot of sparring gets done after that

[ashmp3]

fashion moodboard for @kimsuyeon

[archersartcorner]

Drew and took these pics a while ago but never posted them!! The OG Zac PC, and the special lil guy that initially appealed me to Zac’s characters :)

What a guy :-)

[leoandbeholdclark]

Wip of old men because I'm work-shopping how I see them. Feel free to send your own headcanons, or leave them in tags. Much appreciated!!

[softquietsteadylove]

Some aftercare for Gil after his poisoning experience? Thenas Pokémon being surprisingly caring and protective of him!

Something sweet maybe

Gil blinked, feeling something cool on his forehead. "Oh, uh, hey."

"Frosslass!"

Gil sat himself up in the bed, touching where Frosslass' hand(?) had just been. "Did I have a fever."

The ghost pokemon put on a contrite face and nodded, "Frosslass-Fross."

He had been at home for almost a week now, but they did tell him there could be latent effects of the poisoning he had suffered. So far the pain he had felt had at least lessened, but he still had some aches and chills, and the occasional fever.

Thena's pokemon had been...surprisingly helpful. He had expected Dragonite to be a bit of a worrywart, but both he and Teddiursa had been good about going back to work while he was still recovering. Thena may have told them that they had to help cover for Gil while he was still out sick.

She herself took as much time off from work as she could, but the league didn't exactly give her paid leave. Instead, she had gone back to her usual route with only Gallade and Ninetales, asking her most recent team addition - Froslass - to stay home with Gil.

"Frosslass?" she asked, floating down to the bed on top of his multiple blankets.

"I do feel better, thanks," he smiled at the kind hearted ghost pokemon. She tended not to let herself be visible for too long, but he felt that he had a good rapport with her. "What time is it?"

"Fross," she reached for him, using her long arm(??) to retrieve his pokegear. "Fross-Frosslass?"

"Yeah, she should be home in a little bit," Gil commented, looking through his messages, although they were mostly from Thena telling him that she hoped he was resting, and also a picture of a Luxray who apparently seemed to know her.

"Fross!" the ghost pokemon startled as he started sliding out of bed.

"I'm okay, really, I can at least put some soup on," he attempted to assure it, patting between the horns on her head.

But the ghost rushed in front of Gil, its eyes narrowed. "Frosslass!"

He had to admit he was surprised. He knew that Thena had instructed the ice/ghost type to take care of him in her absence, but he hadn't expected her to be so invested in his recovery.

"Fross," she continued, explaining how even in her short time in the house, she had noticed how much happier Thena's 'aura' seemed when Gil was around. He brought a calm to her trainer's mind which Froslass appreciated. "Froslass?"

"Of course I would," Gil sighed, not even wanting to think too hard on the idea of Thena being sick the way he had been. If anything, he was unconscious for so much of it, his memory was questionable at best. But as he had asked Thena about it, the severity of it was enough that she had admitted she was prepared to have a very serious talk with their little bear cub about the worst case scenario.

Froslass was right; he had a family to take care of, and to do that, he had to take care of himself.

She joined him, floating alongside him to the kitchen. "Frosslass...Fross?"

Gil nodded, reaching for the stew pot as well as some kitchen basics. They were actually from his apartment, since Thena's kitchen was terribly lacking for anything that wasn't related to pokemon nutrition. "It'll be easy, I'll just put it on so by the time Thena gets back it'll probably be almost ready."

Froslass floated around him, watching as he prepared the meal for himself and her trainer. "Frosslass."

Gil laughed, chopping a little more slowly than normal given his cold fingers. "Yeah, I guess I do kind of worry about what she feeds herself when I'm not around."

"Fross," the pokemon shrugged, pointing out that Gallade's snacking habit actually came from their trainer.

"Well, actually," Gil smiled at Froslass as he cooked. "When I first met Thena, I learned early on that she only cared for her pokemon and pretty much neglected herself."

"We ran into each other here in the valley. She had just moved and was still camping with Ralts and Swablu. When I brought her to the pokemon centre, not only did she sleep for almost an entire day, but I also found out that she spent all her money on luxury balls and vitamins and pokemon food. All she'd eaten was oran berries and packaged curry she'd brought with her."

Frosslass laughed as well, fading in and out of view as she expressed her glee. It certainly sounded like her very driven, very caring, but also very dense trainer. "Fross-Frosslass?"

"Well, I mostly told her that I would share my lunches with her, but only if she stopped spending all her money on her pokemon and at least bought herself some sandwiches or something. Or, y'know, worked on finding a place to stay while she was here."

"Frosslass?"

"She stayed in the league facilities for a while," Gil narrated as he began chopping the potatoes. He hadn't blanched them at all, wanting them to cook in the broth. But they were still pretty hard. "A lot of trainers do, but I don't think she liked not being able to have her pokemon out of their pokeballs and in her room with her."

"Fross," the ice type nodded, pressing the knife down with Gil. She was delighted to discover that, at home, Thena maintained an open pokeball policy. Sure, some people had a Pikachu or Skitty in the house with them, but mostly it was smaller breeds like that.

"I kind of like to think that was my influence, a little," Gil chuckled as Froslass helped him slide the diced potatoes into the stew as well. "I mean, she already carried Ralts in her arms all the time, but still."

"Fross?" she asked, intrigued by the idea of proud and stubborn Gallade being carried around the way Teddiursa had been at first.

"Yep," Gil confirmed as he started stirring. "She totally babied him. Carried him in her arms, let him sleep in her sleeping bag with her, even kept him in her coat when she went up the mountain. He acts all cool now, but right up until he evolved into a Kirlia, he was just as much of a lap pokemon as Teddi."

Froslass snickered to itself; she would savour this information the next time Gallade got bossy about the house rules.

"Come on, don't tell him I told you that," Gil attempted to dissuade her. "He already hates me, I can't have him thinking I turned you against him."

"Frosslass!" she waved, dismissing the notion that the Blade pokemon disliked the gentle ranger in any way. "Frosslass-Fross, Frosslass!"

"Really?" Gil felt the need to ask. Gallade always acted like Gil was somewhat of a nuisance, if a familiar one. He really hit those teenage years hard, and Gil sometimes wondered if he would ever outgrow that phase of only wanting to lie around and watch tv at home.

But Froslass argued that Gallade cared very much for his trainer's mate (as they put it). Gallade was Thena's battle partner, certainly, but he had at least some respect for the fact that Gil was her partner in a different way.

"Fross!" It was the thing about auras again. Gallade and Ninetales - and Frosslass to a certain degree - could all sense the auras people and pokemon gave off. And Gil and Thena's auras were never so healthy and happy as when they were together, so the ghost type said.

"I guess that's a relief," Gil looked into the soup pot, stirring the dinner for himself and his aforementioned partner. He certainly felt like he was part of their family. "He could give me a little less lip, though."

"Fross," she shrugged. That was Gallade--he didn't like listening to anyone, and even listening to Thena didn't always work. But he cared for their family and took protecting them very seriously.

"Yeah, I'll say," Gil huffed, mostly in reference to the many occasions Gallade had interrupted their dates like a disgruntled father or agitated little brother. "I used to make poffins for him, and he treats me like I'm some homewrecker."

"Frosslass," she lamented, and she was right, Thena's poffins were better (marginally). "Frosslass!"

But Gallade did have fondness for Gil, and being his usual petulant self around him was a sign of that.

"Well, thanks for telling me that," he smiled at the ghost companion who handed him the pot lid. "This can just simmer away until she gets home."

"Frosslass?"

"A little," he also lamented, yawning into his palm. "Man, this is killing me."

"Frosslass!"

"Sorry, sorry," he chuckled, patting its head again before shuffling to the couch. "Thanks for keeping me company, too. I know you'd rather be out battling with Thena."

"Frosslass," she excused easily. Everyone was worried about him upon the news that he had fallen ill. And if she could do small things to help, like look after him at home or babysit Teddi on occasion, then she was happy to.

"What do you want to watch?" he asked as he picked up Gallade's precious tv remote.

"Fross," she pondered, watching him skip through programs until her eyes lit up and she floated up off the couch again, "Fross!"

"Okay, Great Galar Bakeoff it is," Gil declared, setting the remote down and sinking further into the cushions. "Do you and Thena watch this?"

"Fross-Frosslass," she nodded, recounting how Thena actually paid very close attention to the relaxed show, hoping to absorb some practical knowledge.

Gil yawned again, already being lulled to sleep by the calming music and gentle regional accents, "that's pretty cute."

"Fross," she whispered, watching as he curled himself up. She reached to the back of the couch, also using Gallade's precious throw blanket to drape over Gil.

[vampcaprisun]

a collection of random headcanons about wyll and zeph (my durge who’s romancing him):

wyll is the main party’s resident guidance-giver (thank you pact of the tome). when zeph wants to ask for it, he just reaches a hand over for wyll to take and wyll casts the spell as he takes it. zeph always makes sure to wyll’s hand a little thank you squeeze when he feels the magic hit. once they’re in a relationship, zeph reaching for wyll’s hand just to hold it often leads to wyll casting an unnecessary guidance out of habit, and the little bursts of accidental magic inevitably make both of them blush.

the two of them are very protective of each other in battle. if they’re both in melee, they almost always fight back to back. even if they’re not next to each other, they always watch each other’s backs with a crossbow bolt or eldritch blast ready for the second they notice that the other might be getting overwhelmed by enemies. zeph tends to be more obviously self-sacrificing about it, and wyll gives him a fair number of stern talks about it, but he’s noticed the darker sides of wyll’s hero act too and will gladly prove when necessary that he can give an earful just as well as wyll can.

zeph is much bigger than wyll and takes every possible opportunity to pick him up. it’s not uncommon to see wyll sitting up on zeph’s shoulders while both of them cheer after a successful fight. astarion declares this formation “the blade of frontiers and his noble steed”, and seeing the two of them approaching like that is often the first way everyone back at camp knows the day went well. karlach never complains about carrying wyll’s things so he isn’t too heavy for zeph to carry that far.

after wyll is transformed, zeph and karlach team up to teach wyll horns 101 — how to take care of them, comfortably sleep with them, and so on. (zeph happily gives him lessons on how to cuddle without them getting in the way.) they also like to take turns decorating them for him, usually with flowers they find growing wherever they are at the time and any makeup or paints they can get their hands on. they’re determined to show him that he doesn’t need to be ashamed of his new form.

in waukeen’s rest, the second wyll says that the person they’re trying to save is his dad, zeph breaks through the door and races in alongside the flaming fist. that’s when wyll first starts to realize he’s falling for zeph — when he watches zeph run straight into a burning building without a second thought, blowing right past a door that four other people working together hadn’t been able to budge, just because he heard someone inside was important to wyll.

late into the night of the tiefling party, when things are winding down, zeph realizes that wyll still hasn’t come back to his tent so he goes to check on him and finds him asleep by the water. instead of waking him up, zeph just picks him up, carries him over to his bedroll, and basically tucks him in. wyll does wake up enough from the motion to notice what’s happening, but he pretends to be asleep still because it’s cute and he doesn’t want zeph to stop. he would never admit that he enjoyed something like that, but when no one knows he’s aware of it and he can pretend he had no idea it was even happening (and he’s half-asleep enough to not care so much about that anyway)? he’s not above indulging in that comfort for a little while.

[non-un-topo]

Little Light - tog ficlet

Something I felt like writing but didn’t know what to do with. A little scene inspired by an old fic of mine, Dahlia. A bonus scene, if you will.

--

Somewhere outside these old wood walls, an owl calls the morning forth. A gentle if not calming sound to Andromache, but to tiny brand new ears it is unknown and frightening.

The babe emits a discontented little squeal, and as Andromache leans away from the wall to see into the makeshift bassinet — an armoire drawer, placed on the floor between a bedroll and Andromache’s watchful place at the wall — the tiny thing grunts and attempts to kick her swaddled legs. A little lip pouts, trembles, then her gummy mouth opens with grumpy staccato cries.

There’s a shift in the darkness on the bedroll just beside the drawer. There is enough pre-dawn light pouring in from a half-boarded window for Andromache to see Yusuf poke his head up from behind Nicolò’s shoulder, then quickly lift himself on an elbow as he comes out of sleep to register the baby’s distress.

Andromache’s hand is on the swaddled baby’s stomach, just rubbing very gently as Yusuf carefully crawls over Nicolò and comes forward. The child’s newborn cries sound almost like little angry coughs, increasing in volume as Andromache’s attempts to calm her do virtually nothing. She’s so small, so new. In her mind, Andromache is going through the list of remedies to calm her down: Is she hungry? Is she cold? Does she need a change? Was she simply startled by the owl? There are no easy answers, just a crying baby wiggling in tattered fabrics, all they have for her.

Yusuf is on it, though. Has been since that first horrific day that brought the tiny thing to them. He squats in front of the drawer, and Andromache removes her hand as Yusuf very carefully slides a hand behind the baby’s head and neck and begins to free her from her swaddle.

The moment her arms are free, they shoot up next to her head — some reflex Andromache has noticed, and Yusuf coos at the sight of it. Andromache watches the soft look in his eyes with unease, but she’s then drawn to the shift of Nicolò as the baby’s cries wake him too.

Yusuf shushes the babe, and there’s a moment of uncertainty on his face like he’s having similar thoughts to Andromache, similar anxieties, before he gets both hands below her tiny arms, fingers stretched out behind her neck and head to support her, and lifts her from the drawer. As he does so she scrunches up into a little ball, hand-stitched nappy crumpling up as her knees bend, and her pink fists bracket her face as she grunts.

Andromache watches in silence as Yusuf settles the baby against his shoulder, fingers feather-light and safe on the back of her head where her wispy hair gathers at the base of her skull. She adjusts a little, rubbing her nose into Yusuf’s shirt, as Yusuf pulls open the back of her nappy to check her.

Nicolò is there next to them then, more alert and awake than Yusuf whose eyelids are drooping. Andromache can see all the thoughts in Nicolò’s head play out just by the slight crease in his brow as he watches the baby’s face. He raises a hand, sets is back to the floor, and although Andromache had warned them both about the dangers of becoming attached to the child, she does not want the poor thing to suffer while three capable adults can comfort her. She blinks permissively at Nicolò but he doesn’t need the permission from her, only from himself.

Yusuf is bouncing the baby slightly against his shoulder as he shushes her little noises. He turns his head to see the longing on Nicolò’s face and nods sleepily at him. As Nicolò reaches out to stroke a thin curl on the top of the baby’s head, she begins to squeal again and soon unravels into hiccuping little cries. With mild alarm, Yusuf adjusts her so her face is not pressed into his clothes.

“Let me?” whispers Nicolò, hands out and ready. Yusuf nods, stifling a yawn, and very carefully passes the little grumpy ball over to Nicolò, who lays her over his forearm, cupping her bottom and scrunched up feet in his large hand. Yusuf releases her head last in the crook of Nicolò’s elbow, and her fists fly up again as she settles back with another round of staccato cries. With that done, Yusuf immediately stands to rifle through their packs, likely in search of some goat’s milk they’ve saved.

Finding sustenance for the child has been exhausting and certainly a battle, but Andromache has seen too many children starve to let this one go hungry. She will be fed every chance they get, and she will be warm, and when they are able they will pass her into loving hands who will be able to house her and love her and help her grow tall and strong.

But for now, Andromache only sits and watches as Nicolò rubs the pad of his thumb up the space between the child’s peach-fuzz brows, a little trick she’d taught him that may calm her down and put her to sleep but does not seem to be working at the moment. The baby’s mouth is still wide open and trembling as she cries and so, supporting her with both arms, Nicolò stands with an exaggerated groan and begins to bob her just slightly.

“Alright, piccola,” he says, turning away as he begins to pace around a little, humming some low made-up tune on the spot.

Yusuf stands at his side then, with the jar of milk and the cloth they use to soak it in so the baby can suckle, and Andromache lets herself relax, lets her back touch the wall again as she just watches them together, the pink-faced baby emitting little punched-out cries between them. She’s quieting down, though, as Nicolò bobs her like the sea. Yusuf stands by with the cloth, peering curiously at her little face.

Nicolò makes a brave move then. With one shared look with Yusuf, he blinks down at the child and leans down to ever-so-gently press his lips to her head. He stays there even after the little kiss, and Andromache can hear him hushing her softly as he continues to bounce her.

She’s stopped crying. As Nicolò draws back, Andromache can see that her eyes are wide open, gazing up at Yusuf and Nicolò in wonder. They smile down at her, and something lodges itself in Andromache’s throat. Almost subconsciously, her hand closes around the pendant against her chest.

Yusuf senses her unease, of course he does, because he looks over at her and beckons her over with a jerk of his head and an outstretched hand. She goes willingly, if a little stiffly, and although she swears in her mind that they will not be keeping this child it is nice to see the men smiling in victory and adoration at her little face.

“Looks like she just wanted to be held,” Yusuf whispers.

Andromache might think something about the fact that the first hands to ever touch this baby were Nicolò’s. She might think about the fact that Yusuf’s soft voice had been the one to calm her cries on that first night. She might remember the way her tiny body felt so warm in her arms the morning the child’s mother left this earth, when the ground still trembled with aftershocks and somewhere in the distance the ocean watched Andromache’s back.

She says none of this. Instead, she joins them in the middle of the room as it slowly fills with early morning light. The broken three of them, and the fragile brand new fourth.

They have not named her yet. Andromache does not dare. But she will be called Dahlia, after the flowers her mother sold in a little shop north of the hills of Campania, where the winds smell of oleander and the olive trees face the sunrise.

[bl-inkstone]

ok i'm supposed to be writing an essay but all i can think about right now is yan!childe as your childhood best friend that you, somehow, stayed with all the way to the present. he's not violent nor does he restrict you or anything — he's actually pretty tame for the most part. the yandere part is just him being overtly clingy and obsessive, and maybe a little (a lot) possessive over his title as "your best friend". you could read this to be romantic or platonic but either way, he'd love you til celestia permanently tears your bond apart, which is never if he has anything to say about it. just thinking about childe clinging to his childhood friend and constantly bringing up all the dumb promises they made back then to a) tease them as friends do and b) ensure that they'll never leave

[bunnyb34r]

I wish I liked eggs and weren't allergic to em bc they're so versatile and you can make really simple meals with them which would be very beneficial for my flare up days especially

I've tried several times before my allergy tests and every time I'd have to hype myself up to try it and then take the TINIEST bite and spit it in the trash immediately

Then with several allergy tests over the years it was proven time and time again I'm allergic so even if I wanted to eat them I cant :(