#not me feeling soft today

[suntails]

toot toot!

[evgar]

lovesick puppy

[lululeighsworld]

it was literally their moment and they just let us watch

(if you need me i'll be marinating in this for the foreseeable future)

[dilfmobius]

just a little lokius fic set right after X-5's capture :)

“We’ll be right behind you,” says Loki, waving B-15 off.

She looks at him, eyebrow raised, but walks through the time door with X-5 securely cuffed at her side.

“Uh, Loki?” Mobius asks, confused.

“You okay?” Loki asks, shoulders squared and hands in his pockets. He’s tense.

“What?” Mobius blinks at the god in front of him. “Yeah, I’m fine?”

“Are you sure? X-5 pushed you into the wall pretty hard.” Loki clears his throat and continues, “Looked like you hit your head.”

Mobius’ reaches to touch the back of his head, his fingers brushing a small, tender lump. He winces.

Loki takes notice and moves in closer. He replaces Mobius’ hand with his own, gently cradling the back of his head.

Green light glows from Loki’s palm and Mobius feels a thrumming across his skull. It’s not painful or uncomfortable, in fact it’s one of the most comforting feelings Mobius’ has ever experienced. His breath hitches, at the sudden warmth caused by Loki’s magic and proximity.

Loki looks down at Mobius, eyes dancing between the agent’s gaze and his slightly parted lips.

It would be so easy to pull Mobius in, close the gap between them, and for Loki to seal his mouth over Mobius’.

Instead, he finishes healing the bump on Mobius’ head, and steps away. His gaze is soft and he isn’t as tense as he was moments ago. 

Mobius swallows, pushing down the hot desire that had built in his chest. He really thought for a moment that Loki was going to kiss him, and that it was going to be the most glorious thing that has ever happened to him.

“Are you hurt anywhere else?” Loki’s voice pulls Mobius back. 

“Um, no, I’m really fine now.” Mobius touches the spot on his head where a lump should be, but touches nothing but smooth hair and healed skin. “Promise. And, uh, thank you.”

Loki smiles at him and reaches out to grab Mobius by the forearms. He smooths his hands over the rough fabric, up and down, and Mobius feels himself flush ever so slightly . 

The amount of tender care Loki is performing for Mobius is such a turn from minutes ago when he had X-5 up against that wall, pinned by the shadows of his two clones. The piercing, dark gaze reserved for X-5 has now softened, and Mobius is swallowed by pools of tranquil blue.

“I don’t like seeing you hurt,” Loki says, casually, and it catches Mobius off guard. “And you’re welcome.” Mobius can’t help the dopey smile that spreads across his face at Loki’s sincerity.

They stand there for a moment, just smiling softly at each other like idiots. It’s nice.

Mobius is the one to speak up.

“By the way, that whole thing. The crowd,” Mobius waves behind him and then gestures towards the spots where the two other Lokis stood, “Conjuring up multiple yous. That sure was something.”

Loki just shrugs. “You’ve seen me do it before, I’m sure, in your many years of studying me.” There’s a slight teasing tone in the god’s voice that puts Mobius at ease.

“Sure, it’s one thing to see it on a screen,” Mobius says. “But to see it in person? To see you in action like that? I know I said it was a little over the top, but it’s awesome. You’re awesome.”

Loki chuckles and looks down at his shoes, willing the moisture in his eyes away. And because Mobius knows Loki, he tries to distract him by saying,

“Now, was that illusion projection or duplication casting?”

“Oh, shut up,” Loki says looking back up at Mobius, he laughs and a stray tear makes its way down his face.

Now it’s Mobius turn to inch forward. He reaches up to wipe Loki’s cheek, and lets his hand linger to cradle his face.

Loki sniffs and leans into Mobius’ palm, almost nuzzling into the touch. 

“We should go,” says Mobius. “B-15 will come looking for us.”

Loki nods and Mobius pulls away. Neither revel in the sudden cold left between them.

Mobius taps away at his TemPad and pulls up a door. The agent nods for Loki to follow him but before Mobius can move Loki grabs his arms and pulls him back.

“Loki, wha—“ Mobius is cut off by soft lips pressed against his.

It’s quick, a peck really, nothing major, but Mobius freezes as Loki pulls away, his brain stuttering to a halt. Loki retreats back a little and shoves his hands in his pants pockets once more.

“Better late than never, I suppose,” Loki says with a shy smile on his lips.

“Loki,” Mobius breathes out and closes the gap between them once more.

His hands come up to hold Loki’s face and Loki is swift to wrap his arms around Mobius’ waist. They kiss, softly and with purpose, forgetting about the disaster waiting for them through that glowing, orange door. 

There isn’t a soul around to spoil this one precious moment. It’s all theirs, and it’s all that matters; wrapped around each other in this empty lot in 1977 London.

Loki’s hands wander underneath Mobius’ suit jacket and slide up his back, bringing him even closer, if that’s possible. Mobius sighs into Loki’s mouth and tangles his fingers in the god’s soft, dark curls, unable to deny the heat unfurling in his belly.

Loki is the first one to pull away, much to Mobius’ dismay. He presses their foreheads together and bumps his nose against Mobius’.

“We really do need to be going,” the god says quietly.

“When all of this is over,” Mobius starts, “and we’ve won… will you stay?” 

Loki’s throat feels tight, constricting around the lump of emotion settling there, and his eyes water.

“Where else would I go?” Loki asks.

“Anywhere you want,” Mobius replies. “You could go home.”

Loki shakes his head and presses forward to place another kiss to Mobius’ lips, sweeter this time, feeling the lump in his throat dissolve into his chest and blooms into something warm and promising.

When they pull apart, Loki looks down at his analyst and says, “I’m already there.”

[tomaturtles]

IT'S KAWOSHIN DAY!!! As well as the last day of Kawoshin Week :') It's been such a blast, gonna miss it when it's over

Kawoshin Week Day 7: Cuddling/domestic fluff! + Sleepover and Spinoffs (again)! Based on the Campus Apocalypse sleepover chapter ☺️

[iceclew]

theyaresosofttheyaresosofttheyaresosofttheyaresosofttheyaresosofttheyaresosofttheyaresosofttheyaresosofttheyaresosofttheyaresosofttheyaresosofttheyaresosofttheyaresosofttheyaresosofttheyaresosoftmmmmmhhhhh!!!!

(⁄ ⁄•⁄ω⁄•⁄ ⁄)⁄

yeah some mistakes, yeah i can't do proper backs yet, I don't fcking care honestly, i love it <3

[flowercrowngods]

✨🤍 some steddie softness for @thefreakandthehair's birthday, i hope it's the very best so far! 🤍✨(please please your day comes first, read this whenever you have time and space to breathe 🤍)

Eddie is not a religious man — far from it, actually. But there are a few things that make him believe in higher powers. In angels. In destiny and luck and a love so strong it could conquer everything. 

This very moment is one of them. 

Stevie, soft and sleepy beside him in the back of the car as Nancy is driving, the dim light of the passing street lamps painting his face in hues of gold like the light itself favours Steve Harrington, caressing his features with the softest of shadows. 

He’s beautiful. Ethereal. Perfectly angelic with his eyes closed, his whole body turned towards Eddie in the warmth of the car.

It takes Eddie’s breath away, his heart taking up space where before there were his lungs and ribcage, growing in size until he feels like he is about to burst. And even then he keeps looking, staring at that pretty face that looks so at peace with the whole world right now. Eddie has never seen Steve like this, but now he understands why people start wars. Why people defy gods and death itself to be with their one true love. Why Orpheus looked back. 

He understands. Because Steve, his Stevie, warm and safe and perfectly fine in the backseat of a car? That is everything. He doesn’t even need to kiss or touch so long as he just gets to look. And be. Oh, to be at the same time that Steve is. 

That might just be life’s greatest gift to him. 

A tiny sigh falls from Steve’s lips and Eddie really, really might be about to burst. 

“Hey, angel,” he whispers, because moments like this aren’t made for anything but hushed words, their truths too heavy, too sincere for the world to hear and keep on spinning. He doesn’t need the world to spin as long as there is Steve. 

“Hi,” Steve whispers back, his eyes still closed but the smile lighting up, luring Eddie in like he is but a moth drawn to the flame. 

Eddie leans in and rests his forehead against Steve’s, his hand coming up to cradle a light-kissed cheek. Steve leans into it, following Eddie’s hand like maybe they are twin stars pulling each other closer until there will be an explosion of light and creation. Steve nuzzles against his palm and leans further into Eddie’s body until they share the same breath — but still it’s not enough. 

Eddie wants to say so many things now that their hands are entangled, their soft exhales mixing. But after a while he notices that Steve is humming before gently singing along to the song coming quietly from the speakers. 

“Take it easy with me, please. Touch me gently like a summer evening breeze. Take your time, make it slow. Andante, Andante. Just let the feeling grow.”

Eddie knows the song, recognises it instantly, and his breath gets stuck in his throat once more. Because he has a secret. He loves it. He has imagined for the longest time that one day, someone would make it his song. Sing it for him, to him. 

He’s never told anyone because he has a reputation to uphold and more than enough metal music to listen to, but of course Steve wouldn’t care about his secrets being secret, and just oh so casually make his deepest, most private of dreams come true. 

He’s an angel, that one. A hero. Myths and fairy tales should be woven around that heart of his, folklore speaking of his name until history itself wouldn’t dare to forget. No one can convince Eddie otherwise. Not in that moment, not with Steve singing so quietly, so gently, so adoringly. 

I think I love you. I think I can’t ever stop, not when I’ve seen you like this. Not when you’ve just shown me what life can be about, what it should be about. Gods, I love you and love you and love you. 

That’s what he wants to say. 

But all that comes out is a marvelled, “Shit, Stevie.”

It has the desired effect of a huffed breath, an even wider smile, and Steve cuddling further into Eddie’s side, eyes still closed. Eddie brushes a kiss to Steve’s forehead and feels like maybe his love can make it into the fairy tale, too. 

It will. Oh, it will, when Steve finally lifts his head from Eddie’s shoulder and looks at him through hooded eyes, all soft and sleepy and safe. A moment passes like this and Eddie can’t breathe, maybe he can never breathe again — but it only lasts until Steve slowly, so very slowly begins to lean in to claim Eddie’s lips with a kiss so gentle it could bring him back from the dead. 

Eddie kisses Steve back just as slowly, because in moments like this there is no rush, no hurry. There’s only them, there’s only this. Only a kiss until there is another. 

And with Steve, there is always another. 

Nancy smiles as she is taking the long way to Steve’s house, rounding Loch Nora twice because she knows how comfy Steve gets in cars at night when he doesn’t have to drive and there is soft music playing. 

Eddie kisses her goodbye on the forehead, fully aware of what she’s done. He doesn't tell her about the sun and the myths and all the wars he would start for Steve.

Nights like this are not meant for telling anyone about them. They can hardly be believed as it is. They can only be lived, hand in loving hand.

[nemo-of-house-hamartia]

Please, someone stop me from listening to Josh Groban, because otherwise I will end up DRAWING ANOTHER "MOTTIE AT BED" ARTWORK.

Like seriously, I cannot.

When I hear him sing "You have no idea" all I can hear is Mathias singing to Dorothea AND MY HEART CANNOT TAKE IT.

IT'S EXPLODING WITH SOFT TENDERNESS.

(and I have become the joke of my own household, because my husband, loving Josh as much as I do, now DOES IT ON PURPOSE OF PUTTING HIM ON OUR SPEAKERS, especially when he sees that I am busy working on something not Mottie-related. He knows how my brain works. HE KNOWS IT. So if sometimes you see me derailing, IT'S MR. NEMO'S FAULT AS WELL).

[mogoce-nocoj]

aaand another one for the boys too list 💕

[dazais-guardian-angel]

With today's entry, I was rather surprised and confused that Johnathan seemed to turn around so quickly from the absolute pit of despair he was in yesterday, having newfound determination and energy when he's seemingly been completely hopeless and inactive for weeks now (and for good reason). Not that I ever thought he'd completely given up, but there's definitely been a slow decline in how descriptive his journal entries have been to reflect his declining mental state (more robotic, less of his actual feelings about things), and today was a sharp contrast; it feels more like the early entries again. I thought, well, his mind is probably just so cracked at this point that he's looped all the way back around to being bold and energetic again, because by now he's desperate enough to throw caution to the wind: he either succeeds doing something extremely reckless to escape, or he fails and meets his end in a far better way than if he just waits for his fate by Dracula's hands.

...But having thought about it and reading other posts, I realized (probably stupidly obvious as it is) that his sudden change in mood probably has to do with what happened to the baby. Despite how scared he's been all this time, yesterday he didn't hesitate for a single second to try to save the baby once he realized from the previous incident what was happening, not thinking about his own life at all. And then he despaired when he couldn't save the child, the first time he's mentioned crying in the book at all, and then he had to witness the mother blaming him for her baby's death, and being killed herself for trying to rescue it. Now, the day after that horrific and heartbreaking failure, he's suddenly more determined than he's been in ages to escape. Maybe that was a turning point for Johnathan, and lit a fire under him... maybe he's clinging to the need to escape not just for himself and the people he loves anymore, but for the vain hope that he can put a stop to Dracula's schemes somehow once he gets out, because he doesn't want to let any more children die :' )

[mordremrose]

ART PARTY BABEY HAPPY PRIDE

Enjoy ur bees, give magic swords to little girls and baked beans to slublings— and be wary of rogue noodles

EU doodles: my own Mehndra, Hey Barbie, Tai of the Order and their cursed snack choices, the never ending bench, Strongessst, Necrotechnician Fip, Soft Skunk, Ruárn and Lux Pyrefaith

NA doodles: Khynain (ft a very tiny goofy version of my lad Draikôs) Wet Gunk, Harley Vuong, Tine of Nice Dreams, Kimber Truthspeaker, Zuutes and Master Dokks

As always, if you would like to be tagged with your toon, please let me know!! Otherwise, enjoy ur mischief

[m-eltdown]

[dustykneed]

Hello! Random whipper snipper! Share a WIP of your work!

ooh, with pleasure. six the musical araleyn fanart? in the year 2k24? more likely than you think xDD

i realize this looks finished, but technically i'm still deciding whether to add a background or not lol. still, for the sake of sharing a proper WIP, here's a line or two from an araleyn brainworm WIP that i started reworking yesterday (mild tw for religious guilt and period-typical internalized homophobia from aragon's pov):

She remembers sharing her bed with Anne at Henry's behest, remembers the nights of tossing and turning and trying not to think about Anne asleep next to her-- remembers waking up to dark hair spilling across her pillow and the press of blood-warm bosoms against her own, softer than sin, as hot as the Devil, remembers lying still as death, mouthing prayers into the heat of Anne's neck like an act of penance.

[jazzyderaoz]

Aftercare is the best thing ever man. Like,,, unbelievably perfect way to show a sweet little sub how much I fucking adore him.

Cuddling, holding him close with gentle hands… running my fingers through his hair n getting him all drowsy…covering his face and neck with kisses. Making him all giggly and soft and fuzzy and… man isn’t it fucking beautiful. Isn’t it the sweetest fucking thing in all the world…

[drarrily-we-row-along]

October 6: Corn Maze

Just a note that Harry's ace in this one (I'm working through a lot with my sexuality atm). There are lots of different ways of being ace, lots of different experiences, and I'm not trying to imply this is everyone's experience (but it is mine, so) just wanted to offer a sensitivity warning.

Harry wasn't overly fond of mazes. Not since fourth year, in particular, but also not since everything in his life seemed to be misdirection.

Lately, he'd been feeling like there'd been one too many turns, one too many dead ends, one too many miss-steps; at some point, it felt like he ought to have been due a break.

Still, he found himself with his friends and his godchildren at a literal corn maze; a race to get to the center. And Harry couldn't really have cared less about winning.

He turned down another way, heard a child a few rows over shriek with delight as they ran past, corn rustling, and wished in the very depth of his bones that he could feel simple joy like that, wondered if he ever would. Realizing it was another dead end, he sighed and started to turn back.

"I was hoping I'd find you," spoken softly, just behind him.

"Circe, Draco," he breathed, "you startled me."

Draco was standing there, wearing an over-sized maroon jumper that covered his fingers, blonde hair slipping out of its braid leaving strands framing his face. And Harry ached with how he loved him, ached with the ways he didn't (couldn't).

"Why were you hoping to find me?"

He tucked a strand of fine blond hair behind his ear as he stepped into his space, "So I could do this," he whispered, leaning in and kissing him sweetly.

And, oh, Harry loved kissing. He loved his friends, loved Draco in particular. He loved being able to touch him, loved holding his hand and carding his fingers through his hair. Kissing him at the pub a few nights ago, he hadn't meant to, it had- "Draco, wait-"

"Oh," he said, taking a step back, "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to overstep, after Monday, I thought-"

"Wait," he said, reaching out to take the other man's hand, holding it, "listen. I-" he broke off, shook his head, exhaled. How had his life become this? "I don't want to mislead you."

"Right," he said taking a step back, shaking his head. "You're not interested. You were drinking, we were drinking. It's fine, let's forget about it."

"I'm ace," he blurted, not knowing how else to say it, not knowing how to tell Draco it wasn't about him, it was entirely about Harry. "And I love you, Draco. You are one of my best friends. If you asked me tomorrow if I wanted to spend the rest of my life with you, I'd say yes. I love you with my whole heart."

Draco sat down on the ground, staring up at Harry. "I'm-" he shook his head, "I am so confused."

Harry collapsed next to him, wrapped his arms around his knees. "I'm asexual-" he started again.

"No, I heard that," he said, "and I heard you tell me that you love me, that you'd spend the rest of your life with me-"

"I would, Draco," he said earnestly.

"But you don't want to kiss me?" he asked, brow furrowing.

He shook his head, "It's not that I don't want to kiss you." He scrubbed his nails through the short hair at the base of his neck before ruffling the curls at the top of his head. "It's that I love you so much but I'll never be in love with you. Not the way you-" he broke off, choking on the words, "not the way you deserve. I would kiss you, I'd cuddle with you; hell, I'd have sex with you and I would probably like it. But I'd like it because I love you, not because I care about the sex," he rambled, seemingly unable to stop himself now that he started, a freight train rolling down a hill unable to brake, "but I'm not opposed, I just won't think about it. And I won't-"

"Harry," he said, reaching out and putting his hands on both of Harry's shoulders, "hey. Woah. Slow down, take a breath," he said softly. "Can I hold your hands?" he asked, moving a bit to sit in front of him.

Harry nodded, feeling teary, reaching out and taking the other man's hands in his.

"I hope you know that I would never ask you to do something you're uncomfortable with," he started. "You're so important to me, I'd never ask you to have sex if it wasn't something you wanted-"

"It's not about the sex." He shook his head, "I like orgasms, I'm not sex-repulsed; it's probably why it took me so long to realize that I'm ace in the first place."

Draco squeezed his hands, "Thank you for telling me, for trusting me. But Harry, I can't understand what you meant by misleading me?"

"I don't," he shook his head, "I don't experience attraction the way that most people do, the way that you do. Sex isn't going to be the thing I think about. The way I love you," he shook his head, "I love you so much Draco but it's not the same as how you love me-"

"Does it have to be?" Draco asked. "Harry, you're everything to me," he breathed. "I love you too, I love you so much. And I'm in love with you. Does it have to be the same?"

Harry shook his head, "I don't know," he whispered. "I haven't the foggiest idea," he confessed. "It's never been enough in the past."

"What do you mean?"

"Before I understood my sexuality," he said. "I loved people before and I thought they loved me," he swallowed, "but I haven't been enough, haven't been right-"

"You're enough for me," Draco said, cupping Harry's cheek. "You're right for me. There's nothing wrong with you," he said gently. "I'm sorry that other people have made you feel like there is."

"Oh," he said faintly, equally wanting to brush him off and wanting Draco to give him more gentle reassurances.

"You don't have to believe me right away," Draco said. "I'm not going anywhere. I'm really rather gone on you," he chuckled self consciously.

He leaned forward, pressing his forehead into Draco's neck, "What if you change your mind?"

"I hear your concern," Draco said, hands soothing over Harry's back, "but what if I don't?"

Harry laughed softly, terrified of even letting himself imagine that as a possibility.

"What if you just let me love you? What if we just," he shrugged, jostling Harry's head, "let ourselves be happy?" he said like a question.

"I'm afraid," Harry confessed.

Draco nodded, wrapping him tighter in his arms, "me too. Terrified that you'll realize that I'm not worthy of your love. So afraid you'll wake up and realize that you don't actually love me."

"Draco," he said softly, pulling back to look at him, "that's not going to happen."

"I'm willing to try to trust you about that, if you're willing to try to trust me," he said with a shrug. "I really want this," he said, gesturing between the two of them, "I promise to be good to you," he added, voice soft and pleading.

"Draco," he whispered again, wanting, wanting, wanting. "Yes."

"Yeah?" he asked, grinning brightly at him.

He nodded, "yeah. Yes, if you're sure."

"Harry, there is nothing not to be sure about. I love you. You love me. We'll figure the rest out."

---------------

written for the @flufftober prompt "Corn Maze"

[saturnvs]

equine therapy starts again today for the first time since … october? nervous 🫠