#Very soft

[artpikuuhnah]

Eclipse.

[tofuingho]

I love the way cumplane fanfics really embrace the fact that Shang Qinghua's type is cold, beautiful, wealthy, and mean.

[bookskeepers]

i like me better - tsukishima kei

pairing: timeskip ! tsukishima kei x gn ! reader

word count: 932

content warning: fluff? maybe?, established relationship, i headcanon tsukki as the softest man on earth when he's in luuuuuv, yada yada ya

a/n: another writing piece. hopefully people like this one too and people like my characterization of tsukki! ahahah

totally wasn't thinking of the song with the same name while writing this too

Laughter echoes through the air as you, Tsukishima, and his volleyball friends play the board game. You're sitting next to the tall middle blocker, with Kageyama, Hinata, and Yamaguchi on the other side of the table. There's an open spot at the table for Sugawara too, but he's vanished momentarily to retrieve drinks for everyone.

"Who knew Tsukki sucked at monopoly?" Yamaguchi jokes after the blonde in question lands on one of the green-haired man's properties.

The glare Yamaguchi receives would've killed if Tsukishima had laserbeams coming out of his eyes. "It's a matter of luck, not a matter of skill," he snaps.

His hand, hidden by the table's edge, inches closer to yours. He's not one for big showy displays of affection when he's around his friends from high school, but he takes the time to make sure you know that he's aware of your presence, that he hasn't forgotten you when his friends are around.

You're grateful for the small show of affection that's hidden from his friends' nosy gazes. Tsukishima hands the rest of his fake-money to Yamaguchi, grumbling under his breath about how Monopoly was a stupid game choice.

"Don't go hating us now," Sugawara chimes in as he returns, his arms laden with various bottles. He begins handing them out, smiling kindly at you as he gives you your favorite drink. "Besides, if you grumble too much, you're going to put a damper on the mood." The silver-haired man nudges Tsukishima with his elbow, receiving the blonde's icy glare in return.

The game continues and, ever so slowly, Tsukishima scoots closer and closer to you on your shared side of the table. It's barely perceptible -- every few minutes, he'll shift his position in such a way that takes away a few millimeters from the distance between you two. By the time Kageyama and Hinata have been bankrupted, which was not long after Tsukishima's unfortunate end, your thigh grazes against his.

Within a few minutes, the game ends with you as the winner. Yamaguchi looks absolutely flabbergasted, since he had the most properties -- Sugawara seems less shocked, since he barely landed on anything other than the railroads and the "go straight to jail" options. Tsukishima, you notice, is glowing with pride at your win. He chuckles, shaking his head at Yamaguchi's yapping.

"There's no way you could've won, I had almost all of the properties!" Yamaguchi complains. He crosses his arms and pouts as the rest of you work on cleaning up the table.

Kageyama looks deep in thought, finally speaking up: "Tsukishima hasn't been nearly as mean as I thought he'd be when he lost."

The statement has you covering your mouth with one hand as you struggle to hold back laughter, while Yamaguchi and Hinata both give Kageyama a look of pure amazement. Sugawara, meanwhile, has managed to sneak up on the blonde and give him a good ol' fashioned Sugawara-style bop on the head. "Hey!" Tsukishima exclaims, rubbing the back of his head.

"He's gotten soft since, y'know," Hinata finally says after a few more moments of strangled laughter (from you) and awed silence (from him and Yamaguchi).

Tsukishima aims his glare at Hinata, his frown deepening into a scowl. "I have not gotten soft," he retorts. As if to prove his statement, he stands up. Towering over Hinata, his scowl is replaced with a smirk. "You, on the other hand, haven't gotten any taller."

Hinata turns bright red and begins stuttering about genetics and his height before you get off the floor and grasp Tsukishima's hand, pulling him away from the shorter man. "We should get going," you say in a soft voice, smiling at everyone else.

He nods at you before heading towards the door while you say your goodbyes, shaking Kageyama's hand and giving Hinata, Sugawara, and Yamaguchi a brief hug. "Thank you for having us," you tell them. "We'll see you guys soon!"

You turn on your heel and head over to your boyfriend, who simply waves his hand at the other four before opening the door for you. As the two of you exit the apartment and head for the elevator, Tsukishima entwines his fingers with yours once more. He looks deep in thought, and it takes you calling his name a few times to snap him out of his reverie.

"Kei? Kei. Kei!"

"Huh?" he asks as he looks at you, a small frown playing on his lips. "What?"

"What are you thinking about?"

His thoughts dissipate as he gazes at you, affection in his eyes. His frown softens into a slight smile, shaking his head. A faint pink dusts his cheeks out of embarrassment. "Just wondering if I've really gone soft."

"I think you have," you tease, poking his side with your free hand as you both enter the elevator that's finally arrived. "So soft, all because of me!"

He grabs your hand with his other one and pulls you close to him, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. "I'm okay with that," he says simply, nuzzling his nose into your hair. "After all, I like me better when I'm with you."

You smile against him, enjoying the brief peace before the elevator opens and the two of you exit.

You're greeted by the cool, wintry air as you exit the building and, with Tsukishima's hand in yours, you smile at him. He notices your look and tilts his head like a puppy, asking a question with his eyes.

"I like me better when I'm with you, too," you say at last, giving his hand a squeeze.

[y-love-gothic]

[angryplebianart]

I'm trying and failing to follow Piggie's (from gtwt) 2doctober prompt list but here's day one, a bit overdue.

This is also anatomically bonkers and very sloppy, but I hope you like it all the same 🩵💚

[humming-fly]

Happy birthday!! Hope its a good one!! <3

AHGHGH GOSH THANKS!!

that’s very sweet of you hahaha, I love the reflection of the candle in their mask looking like the anime eye sparkle hahaha - thanks so much!

[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.

[sulkybender]

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

[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).

[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

[butterycow]

Bucks tits look like wonderful pillows

[poisoned-peppermint]

Day 17

Seven they/them

Nonbinary

Akin to a patchwork quit they are except in stead of cloth its different peoples bodies

They're lovely despite all that, very curious so many questions and the best hugs you'll ever experience that is if you don't mind bugs

[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.