#very soft

[artpikuuhnah]

Eclipse.

[y-love-gothic]

[rats-k1ng]

guys i drew dream (ignore the stuff going on rn i had nothing to draw)

[sulkybender]

I feel like I can literally never have enough art of Zuko and Sokka holding each other in bed

[artsychaosensues]

What started out as a sketch page of Marina's Mail Club outfits turned into a illustration, whoops! This is from a Castoff mail club sticker from a couple years ago.

[oxydiane]

‘Does it ever upset you?’

‘Mhhh?’ Ron shifts slightly, adjusting the arm curled around Harry’s waist. ‘What’re you talking about?’

‘That… This, that nobody knows about this.’ Harry whispers with a nod to their current position; he is laying against Ron’s chest, Ron’s lips pressed against his hair and leaving quick kisses every once in a while.

‘Why? It matters to you?’ Ron mumbles, clearly far sleepier than his boyfriend.

‘I dunno,’ Harry thinks of how the only reason they get to lay and cuddle like this is Sirius and Remus’ date night, thinks of how Sirius left him the home for the night and he used the chance to sneak in his boyfriend when Sirius had trusted him. ‘Should tell Padfoot, maybe?’

Ron seems to wake up at once. ‘Huh? No way! He’s going to kill me!’

‘He’s not going to kill you,’ a roll of eyes.

‘Duh! He already doesn’t like me because he knows of your embarrassing crush on me!’ Harry laughs and shoves him playfully. ‘You wanna add fuel to the fire so next time I show up he’s not even gonna let us in your room? This door-stays-open rule is bad already!’

‘He just wants to make sure —‘

‘I don’t deflower his Godson?’ Ron finishes for him and that does draw a shriek from Harry, immediately followed by a laugh.

‘You’re so stupid! And he knows we wouldn’t try that under his roof! I’m smarter than that.’

‘Debatable.’

‘Now you’re just being mean,’ Harry whines and presses his face against Ron’s neck. ‘I just… I don’t like keeping secrets from Sirius, you know that.’

‘I know! I just…’ Ron sighs. ‘Once we tell them, we need to tell my family, too, and once we do that, the teasing will start and this… This won’t be just ours anymore, would it? I know you want to tell them, Harry, I do too, but… Can this just be ours for a little while longer?’

Ron’s voice is so sweet against Harry’s hair and his hand runs gently against Harry’s back, he can’t help but smile against the crook of Ron’s neck; he is in love and it maybe does need to stay in-between them alone for a little longer.

‘Alright,’ he mutters, the warmth in his chest urging him to add— ‘I love you.’

From where he lies, he can feel Ron’s heartbeat speed-up just a little before the arms around his waist squeeze him closer and the lips against his hair move.

‘I love you, too.’ And it’s quiet after that, the muffled sound of the telly lulling them to sleep.

Later that night, the front door opens and a voice breaks the silence of the house.

‘I told you I could not learn all those constellations.’

‘You tried and we had a lovely pick-nic, that’s what matters.’

‘Yeah, would have been better if it didn’t start pouring—‘ Remus’ words come to a sudden halt when he takes in the two teenagers’ sleeping forms, cuddled up together on their living room couch.

‘What’s u— Oh,’ Sirius’ hand slips easily around his husband’s waist. ‘They think they are so slick.’

‘They ought to have realised we know by now, this is the… what? Fourth time? Fourth time we caught them?’

‘Seventh,’ Sirius says confidently, he’s been keeping a tally. ‘Honestly, Moony, I get this whole ‘let them come to us when they are ready’ thing but it’s getting ridiculous… I do enjoy our date nights to leave him the house to himself, though.’

‘Of course you do,’ Remus can’t help but smile, looking at Harry sleeping so peacefully. ‘The poor boy has, what, five siblings?’

‘Six, and two parents. Honestly, Moony, you are kind of awful with numbers lately.’

‘Yeah, whatever. Way too many, in my book. They deserve some privacy, God knows how little they could actually get at Molly Weasley’s house!’

‘Not too much privacy, though.’ Sirius points out and Remus can’t help but roll his eyes, taking his husband’s hand and tugging him towards their room.

‘Let’s go, let’s go, you remember tomorrow’s script—?’

‘Of course.’ Sirius deadpans. ‘Pretend we saw nothing, and that we were both way too drunk to remember anything, anyways.’

‘Good boy.’

Sirius gives the two boys one last glance before disappearing in the hallway. He is glad Harry can rest so well.

[alasse-earfalas]

okay so I've been holding this inside for a while but I just can't anymore. this entire interaction is giving me life.

LOOKIT DAT SMILE. THE LITTLE SHOULDER SLAP. I can just hear him chuckling and kfjgvktyuvchgcmgc.

I AM. SO SOFT FOR THIS PANEL. TWI IS SO OLDER BROTHER HERE. [melts into a puddle of soup]

[rockingrobin69]

Bright

The poor coaster, shredded to bits, left incriminating marks on his fingers. Blue ink on shabby cardboard, sticky with condensation: now, who thought this was a good idea? Coming tonight. Refusing to acknowledge the increasingly-drunker crowd of his so-called ‘friends’, who finally gave up on trying to get him to play. (Ha. Like he’d ever do anything as silly as participate in magically-binding truth or dare when Potter was in the vicinity). Not looking, still noticing him: an elbow here and a curl there, the heel of his shoe and a finger pointing at something.

Not looking. Sitting in his corner and not looking. Only barely resisting the urge to thunk his head back against the wall, the compulsion to sink into the booth until he disappeared between the cushions. Grabbed his glass for something to do with his hands, found it empty. Above, in the real world, the music had changed into something slow and soft, and Draco, ridiculously, wanted to cry.

“Scoot over, you mopey little thing,” came a shove from his right, then “there you are, you arse, we thought you’d left,” and “Millie! he’s here, c’mon.”

Draco blinked the silliness out of his eyes. Pansy, Greg and Ginny, effectively squishing him into a pitiful sardine. Crossed his arms, tried for a scathing remark, came up short.

“And then I said, if you weren’t such an insufferable bitch, none of this would have happened!”

“Then you kissed her,” Millie, rolling her eyes. “What’s up with Draco? Why’s he making that face?”

“I’m not making a—”

“He’s just brooding because Potter didn’t ask him to dance,” Pansy, shrilly in his ear. “Why don’t you ask him yourself, you berk?”

“Why are you shouting!” Draco roared back.

On the other end of the booth, Greg was sighing into his hands. “D’you guys think Longbottom will show up?”

“Shall we get another round?”

“But you are a berk, Potter’s been trying all night to—”

“Another round! Draco’s on it!” someone shoved at him again, Ginny or Pansy, he couldn’t be sure, all the way around the table until he was thrown out of the booth. “Thanks ever so much, darling!”

Draco—gave up. Huffed something a bit amused and very angry, and mostly tired, slunk his way to the bar. Truly, why did he come tonight, couldn’t remember: something to do with a threat to cut all his hair, or… no, Pansy wasn’t mean tonight. Something like—

“Oof,” a weight at his back, pinning him to the counter. “Sorry, I—shit, sorry, Draco!”

Right. Potter’s familiar smell (firewood and night sky), his warmth, too close. Draco made himself turn with what took improbable strength, to stare at Potter’s pretty face, at his pretty mouth hanging open.

“I’m so sorry. I…”

Behind him, Weasley was giggling, Hermione rolling her eyes. Draco, too familiar with being the butt of the joke, sighed.

“It’s all right. You can get off me now. It’s fine.”

But Potter didn’t move. His hands, empty, trailed either side of Draco on the bar. “You,” he swallowed.

Small between the wood and Potter: “Me.”

“No, that’s not what I… you’re here.”

“Yes. I believe you invited me.”

Potter shook his head, a strangely gentle movement. “I meant, you’re here, right now. I wanted…” Potter-brave, he smiled, leaned closer. It took everything in Draco not to cower away.

“You wanted?” this riot in his chest. Potter’s was rising and falling fast, throat working tightly on a swallow, and another. His face lit up with a smile, unbearably bright.

“Yes,” he said softly.

“I’ve been told,” Draco started, choked, “advised, in fact, to ask you to dance.”

The tilt of his eyebrow was the dearest thing. “Good advice. Reckon you should take it.”

“Do you now,” warm on a startled chuckle, mindlessly pushing closer, to tuck a curl of Potter’s hair behind an ear. Found his hand lingering, just beyond touch: gasped when Potter hummed, leaned into it.

“Ask me.”

Draco forgot how to speak forever. “Want… ah, want to dance, Potter?”

“Why, yes, I do.”

The music came back into existence when he pulled away, something cheery and not at all important. There was a blue mark on Potter’s neck from Draco’s fingers, from the ink, from the coaster. Draco couldn’t stop staring. Felt oddly pleased at this unintentional mark, doubly so when Potter turned to look at him, molten-gold and so pretty.

“Coming?” with his hand outstretched. Breathe, Draco told his useless lungs, then gave up the effort altogether. Took the hand. Yes.

In the periphery, his so-called ‘friends’. Greg was making eyes at Longbottom, Pans and Ginny were snogging again, Millie was dancing with Hermione and Weasley, and in the dimness of the bar, and the whirling in his chest, the whole world was… bright.

For my darling friend, @phoebe-delia. Happy birthday sweetheart. I love you, I love you, I love you. (You can find the rest of my flufftober pieces here).

[kaleidoscope-of-thoughts]

“Well, well, well, look what we have here,” Villain taunted playfully as they strolled over to Hero’s curled-up body, expecting them to jump up any second.

When there was no sarcastic remark back, Villain stopped and crouched down to get a better look, furrowing their eyebrows when Hero didn’t even look in their direction.

“Hero?” Villain questioned worriedly, touching Hero’s shoulder to get their attention.

Hero’s head shot up and they gasped from the contact, scrambling to get away from Villain.

“Hey, hey, hey, it’s just me,” Villain’s voice softened and they gently placed their hand on Hero’s knee to halt their movement.

They finally got a good look at Hero’s face and couldn’t hide the shocked look in their eyes.

“What happened?” Villain hooked their fingers under Hero’s chin and tilted their face from side to side, seeing a multitude of bruises and cuts.

“Hero?” They asked again even quieter, moving their hand to Hero’s cheek and supporting their body when they leaned into their palm.

A tear ran down Hero’s face and they looked everywhere but at Villain.

“Nothing...it was n-nothing,” Hero stuttered out, finally glancing at Villain who was sighing sympathetically. They weren’t going to push Hero into answering them at that moment, that’s not what they needed.

“Okay, that’s fine,” Villain moved to embrace Hero, who shakily accepted the hug, squeezing them like they were a lifeline.

“But I’ll be here when you’re ready,” Villain whispered and lightly kissed the top of Hero’s head, smiling when they felt their lips curl up on the side of their neck.

“Thank you,” Hero responded faintly, sounding so small and fragile.

No one was ever going to hurt their Hero again.

[argentinagp]

Valtteri Bottas on Ambleside Distillers ig x

[aidaran-alha]

Chapters: 2/? Fandom: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett Rating: Explicit When they’d been told to go forth and reproduce, the humans had really paid attention, Aziraphale decided, looking at how crowded the market was. Under the rays of the sun, listening to their chatter, he could almost forget for a moment that this was his life now. That it was a punishment rather than just another assignment.

It could be worse, he thought. He could have been dragged to Hell for real. The redhead demon could have just let him go there, making him someone else’s problem. What was it with Crawley and defying every single rule? Why was he protecting him?

Whatever the reason for that was, Aziraphale found himself wishing Crawley would never stop being himself.

“So, what do we do here?” Aziraphale nervously asked the demon.

“Mm? Oh, I was thinking petty theft.”

“You what ?”

“Y’know, just enough to keep them happy downstairs,” Crawley flashed an amused smile, “so that they don’t come to bug us. You make some people angry, send some reports back home ‘bout it, everybody is happy.”

“Except those you bugged up here.”

“Ah, but isn’t that the point of it?” Continue reading here: 

https://archiveofourown.org/works/54816064/chapters/139458214#workskin Summary:

God was watching when Aziraphale ate the ox rib. When he conspired against Her and tricked her angels. When he lied to Heaven.

And falling should be bad, the worst thing to ever happen to him. Except that it's not. Crawley seems to want nothing but to protect him from Hell, to keep him close as he learns the ropes of being a demon assigned to Earth.

Maybe a side of their own is not such a bad and lonely thing after all.

------

This fic is part of the amazing @goodomensafterdark​ community!

[young-artist-ai]

 ꒰◍ᐡᐤᐡ◍꒱💤✨

Soft boys lie softly in a soft bed and watch soft dreams while the soft rays of the sun illuminate their soft faces

[y-love-gothic]

[hellishunicorn]

I feel like we don't talk enough about Lupe's pyjamas. They look so soft and are probably so nice (for Jess) to cuddle.

[never-looked-so-good]

📷 @/ch_leclerc16

[proton-emoticon]