#better late than never lol

[my-whumpy-media]

[lipglossanon]

The Ayatollah of Rock and Rolla!

•———— 💠 ————•

sweet stepdad!Leon S. Kennedy x fem!reader

a short little one shot; this was meant to be part of Promptober but I forgot about it 🫣 so enjoy! 😉

Warnings: MDNI, stepcest, kissing, flirting, Leon wearing leather 🤭

title from a quote in The Road Warrior (heavily inspired this whole one shot 🤭 😌)

•———— 💠 ————•

“What in the world are you watching?”

You take a seat on the couch, snuggling into Leon’s side. 

“Cinema,” he rolls his head to the side to look at you with a grin.

You snort, “Dudes in leather driving modified roadsters? Peak cinema for sure.”

He chuckles and turns his attention back to the TV as Mel Gibson comes on screen. 

“Oh wow,” your eyes widen taking in the actor’s scruffy character, “who’s he?”

“Max, sweetheart,” Leon chuckles, big hand gripping your thigh and squeezing. 

“Ohhh,” you excitedly squirm in your seat, “and he has such a cute dog! Dad, why have you not shown me this before?”

“I don’t know, just didn’t seem like you’re kinda thing,” he shrugs, moving his hand from your thigh up and over your shoulders, squeezing you to him. 

“You like it don’t you?” you giggle, eyes still glued to the screen, missing the soft, fond look Leon gives you. 

“Yeah, s’true,” Leon lays his head on yours, “you’re not gonna like it though, baby.”

“Why not? Oh wait,” you pull away to look at him with sad eyes, “the dog doesn’t make it does he?”

Leon grimaces a little and  shakes his head no, “Sorry, sweetheart. But it’s offscreen.”

You face scrunches and you slump into his side, “It’s not actually real,” you mutter forlornly, “not that it makes me feel any better.”

“You don’t have to watch it with me,” he kisses the top of your head. 

“I wanna,” you mumble, practically crawling into his lap, “just distract me when- when that part comes up.”

“Promise,” he kisses your head again and settles back into the couch, softly petting your sides. 

After a few minutes of the movie rolls by, you speak up, “You should wear that for Halloween.”

It’s so out of left field that Leon lets out a full belly laugh, “What? All black leather with boots and fingerless gloves?”

“Mmhmm,” you hum shyly. 

“I’ll think about it,” he tickles your side til you giggle, “alright?”

“‘Kay.”

•———— 💠 ————•

It’s so long in between that movie night and October 31st, that it totally slips your mind that you even asked Leon to dress up. So when you make your way from the kitchen to his office with coffee, since he still hasn’t taken a break from work, you’re a little flummoxed that he’s no longer at his desk. 

Setting the hot drink down on a coaster, you spin around to see if he’s in his bedroom. Pressing open the cracked door, you must make a noise since his gaze snaps over to you. 

“Hi, sweetheart, still putting on the last touches.”

You feel like a fish out of water with how your mouth is opening and closing, no words escaping as you rake your eyes down his outfit. 

“What’re you…”

Trailing off, you just gesture at him. He laughs, the edges of his eyes crinkling with the movement. 

“Don’t tell me you don’t remember,” he grins, pulling on the fingerless gloves that make your mouth water.

“Mad Max,” you breathe out, eyes taking in all the leather. 

You step into the room, walking straight to him with your hands outstretched, fingers skating up the leather jacket until it reaches the collar and your hands fan out down his shoulders. Glancing down, you see the tight leather pants leave nothing to the imagination. 

“You look hot,” you blurt out before biting your lip in embarrassment, dilated eyes finally meeting his stormy blue ones.

The corner of his mouth curls up and your heart skips a beat. 

“Hot, huh?” 

His big hands grip onto the fat of your hips and you have to swallow down the whimper threatening to spill out. 

“Very hot,” you whisper, tongue darting out to wet your bottom lip. 

His eyes track the movement but he only chuckles to himself. 

“Glad to know you like it,” he murmurs, leaning forward and your eyes flutter shut. 

He presses a soft kiss to your cheek and pulls away from you, turning back to the mirror to adjust the tight fitting cotton tee underneath the jacket. 

“Don’t you have a costume to change into?” He lifts a brow as you meet his reflected gaze. 

“Y-yeah, I’ll go get changed,” you mumble before snapping your fingers, “oh! Before I forget, I made you a coffee, it’s in your office.”

He gives you a sweet smile, “Thanks, baby.”

You nod, quickly backtracking back to your room. There’s no way you’re going to survive the night!

[hikkikoumori-cosplay]

Happy Birthday Sakura!

I can finally post my shoot for my newest Sakura cosplay, just in time for her birthday! From the third opening, Platinum, complete with functional wings!

My next Sakura cosplay will be from the second Clear Card op, Rocket Beat!

🌸🌸 Photographer: @cyclopsrock 🌸🌸

🌸🌸 Cosplay: meee 🌸🌸

[courtesanofdeath]

Bonus episode visual: #25 - The Flowers Bloom

[kyuuppi]

Pairing: Wanderer x Reader (gn)

Contents: established relationship; fluff; Wanderer uses demeaning names for Reader (but still loves them); soft Wanderer; bad at feelings Wanderer; consumption of fish

Word Count: 1.4k

Scaramouche would have never imagined that he would be here.

Then again, there were many aspects of Wanderer's life that Scaramouche would have never imagined. Like this moment now, bustling around the tiny kitchen of a cozy apartment and impatiently glancing at the clock every few seconds. He stirs away at a bubbling pot of pasta to ensure it doesn’t burn on the bottom but remains warm enough to serve when you finally arrive.

Speaking of which where the fuck are you, you promised you’d be home early today— he had made sure of it before you left this morning. But’s already half past six and you’re usually home by six fifteen so you probably forgot and now his plans are ruined and—

The obnoxiously familiar jingle of keys followed by the squeak of the front door interrupts Wanderer’s thoughts. His shoulders slightly droop with relief as he turns off the stove bringing the pot over to the neatly arranged dining room table to finally plate the meal. 

“Took you long enough,” Wanderer says as if it were a proper greeting. And perhaps for him, it may as well be.

As usual, his sharp words fall off your back like water, much too used to his pissy attitudes by now, several years into knowing each other and nearly a year into a romantic relationship. 

“Sorry,” you huff out as you finally shrug the heavy tote bag off your shoulder. 

“I ran into Tigh on the way back from the market while I was picking up some new books,” you begin to explain as you shuffle into the dining area. 

“He said he was looking for spices Collei requested for her new recipe. Oh, have you ever had her pita pockets before? I know you’re picky about food but they’re actually really good and I think you– whoa … what is this? ”

Your story is cut short as you finally seem to take in the setting before you. As your eyes dart across the table your mouth falls open, appearance akin to that of a goldfish. If he weren’t so uncharacteristically nervous, Wanderer might have laughed at you for how dumb you look. 

But instead, he silently places the emptied pot in the sink, uncaring of the intimidatingly large pile of dirty dishes—he’ll get to those later. 

With quick strides, he returns to the dining table, taking a seat in front of one of the two plates of steaming rosé pasta, violet eyes seeming to glow in the dim candlelight as he shoots you an expectant look. 

“What does it look like, dumbass? It’s a candlelit dinner,” Wanderer sneers, “now hurry the fuck up and eat before it gets cold. I put a lot of effort in this shit, y’know.”

As Wanderer stabs a picks up a bundle of spaghetti noodles with his chopsticks you seem to finally regain your wits, forcing yourself to move and take a seat as you glance between the crystal vase at the center of the table, filled with deep red dendrobrium accented by thin branches of sakura bloom, the dancing flames of the osmanthus-scented candles placed strategically around the room, and the generous helping of what appeared to be cod roe pasta with rosé sauce plated on the finest china you two owned–a housewarming gift from Zhongli. It most certainly is the epitome of a candlelit dinner if anyone had ever seen one. 

Wanderer tries to look unaffected as he digs into his own dinner but he finds himself tensing as you promptly take your first bite. You hardly even chew it before your eyes close in bliss and you moan out words of praise that make his chest burn with something akin to pride. 

"Your cooking is always so amazing,” you proclaim.

"This is nothing special. Any fool could make a decent pasta," Wanderer shrugs off.

He hopes his ears don’t look as red as they feel as he hurriedly shovels more pasta in his mouth just to have something else to focus on. Praise was something he had always sought–whether from his creator or a nameless mass of devout followers. It made him feel powerful, above all others, like an archon .

And yet, somehow, praise from you felt completely different. Your praises sent a flutter through his chest cavity that he was sure should not be physically possible. Rather than feeling stronger than anyone else, your praises made him feel just strong enough . Just worthy enough to exist, to atone for his sins, to stand beside you. And he thinks the most disturbing part of it all is how satisfied he is with just that. A vengeful, artificial god who once dreamed of ruling all of Teyvat now equally happy just being by your side–what a strange joke.

"But," you hesitantly start, breaking Wanderer from his self-reflections, "what's all of this for?"

His reply is simple, "today is the day of that silly holiday mortals celebrated in your world, isn't it."

You nearly choke on a noodle at the implication.

“We're celebrating Valentine's Day ?"

Wanderer shoots you an annoyed glare at your incredulous tone before abruptly pulling away from the dining table and approaching your side instead. You’re still seated and gaping at him like an idiot with a pair of chopsticks in your hand, a clump of noodles limply hanging off of them. 

"Of course,” he answers smoothly, “we're a couple now, aren't we? And you're quite lucky because my generosity today does not end with dinner."

Wanderer kneels down on one knee before you, a sight no one in Teyvat or even worlds beyond could have ever imagined possible for the egotistical puppet obsessed with the notion of reaching godhood. 

But Wanderer was no longer that vengeful Balladeer anymore. He is merely a wanderer, living as a mortal alongside the person who was somehow able to capture his nonexistent heart and give his life a newfound meaning filled with simple joys he never thought possible. And now, he can only hope to return just a fraction of the happinesses you have given him in the form of a little black velvet box. 

You audibly gasp when he pulls the small box out of his pants pocket, holding it out in front of you and opening it to reveal a silver ring. In the center of the thin metal band sits a decently sized diamond, accented with small amethyst gems that sparkle under the flickering candle light and remind you of the eyes of the man himself.

"Before you get the wrong idea–this isn't a proposal or anything," Wanderer grumbles, avoiding eye contact as his cheeks flush.

"it's just…a placeholder. I'll give you the real one in a few years." 

The last part is mumbled in such a low tone you would have missed it had you not been seated right in front of him.

Slowly–just long enough to have Wanderer’s stomach churning with his anxiety and second-guessing his every decision–your brain catches up and a slow grin splits across your face.

"Thank you, Kuni... it's beautiful," you whisper, eyes watery.

The use of his original names seems to amplify the intimacy of the moment. Wordlessly, Wanderer stands from his kneeled position, plucking the small piece of jewelry from the box and taking your hand with an unexpected gentleness. 

He slides the cool metal on your finger—the fourth finger of your left hand. 

For a moment, you both admire it in awe. He can’t help the first thought that pops into his head, the thought that it suits you. 

Like was always meant to be there. 

Like how he was always meant to be here, with you.

"I love you," you murmur. 

When he turns to look at you, he finds you already staring up at him, all soft smiles and twinkling eyes, as if he had personally hung the moon in the sky. As if he was the most important person in your world. As if his worth far exceeds anything he was created for and anything he imagined for himself thereafter. 

Wanderer doesn't say anything but he firmly squeezes your hand and brushes his thumb against the new ring on your delicate finger.

A placeholder. 

[muzdiir]

vashmeryl week - day 2: mythology

[trueapex19]

We got our Legacy Costumes!

[cyanide-drinkerxx]

Hello! You can call us Cyan! We are an autistic system with a passion for making art and we hope we can share it with you!

We are brazillian, our collective pronouns are he/they and we as a whole are transmasc :3 we are taken by our amazing bf and very happy!

Interests <3

We love bright colors, fashion, biology and aesthetics in general! We also love consuming and making art with kinda dark and gorey themes, a lot of the time as a coping mechanism. It will always be tagged though.

Our main fandoms at the moment are RAINCODE, JJBA, Steven Universe and FNAF (prob bc those are the sources for our current frequent fronters lol). We'd love to talk about them!

Important!

𖹭 Our art may cause eyestrain due to the bright, contrasting colors! Please be careful!

𖹭 We are a fictive-heavy system due to using fiction as escapism.

𖹭 We do not engage in discourse or identity policing.

𖹭 We may need tone tags to understand jokes and sarcasm!

Other info

𖹭 Commissions are currently closed, but will probably be open soon!

Links

𖹭 Makoto (our host)'s side blog

𖹭 Our spacehey (under construction)

𖹭 Our twitter (currently don't use it a lot)

Thank you for reading!

[mermaidsirennikita]

🎄Romance Advent🎄 Day 15: Moonglow by Kristen Callihan

One-sentence summary: Happily widowed and ready to hit the town, Daisy finds herself in the midst of supernatural chaos when she's rescued from a werewolf attack by another, much hotter werewolf/newfound sworn protector, the rakish Ian Ranulf.

Why read it: First off, the world in Kristen Callihan's Darkest London series is just fabulous. It feels like a Gothic Victorian Era, the supernatural underground doesn't totally disrupt the restrictions we love about historical romance, and it's full to the brim of action and passion. This one is a great entry point to the series (though the preceding book is also fab) and it leads into the gorgeous Winterblaze. But it's so heightened itself--Daisy and Ian are a perfect match, yet both (especially Daisy) remain too emotionally damaged to admit. Ian is in full denial of his true self; and Daisy is just discovering who she really is beyond secrets and a horrible marriage. I just really love a book where two people help each other become what they were always meant to be.

Lives rent-free in my brain: The first time Ian calls Daisy "Daisy-Meg" is a winner. So is the scene when they finally give in to their passions and he's getting her off in a carriage and then her sister (who HATES him) is banging on the carriage door like "GET A JOB!!!! LEAVE HER ALONE!!!!!"

[graveyarrdshift]

Hello guys! I decided to start tracking the tag #tsuseraugust

I'll reblog pretty much everything, so feel free to tag me in anything you'd like to show me (even if we're not mutuals) <3

[lovedbz1]

Eheheh

Don't question me why they're standing in the rain and not using their hood, they are simply vibing

Everyone should check out @mymovie14 by @fishymom-art There's some interesting things there for sure!!

[oksouffle]

CRASH THE NARRATIVE!!!

[design notes + alt under ‘read more’]

Wanted to make a speedster spidersona, so here they are! Hope y’all like them- I have simply been rotating them in my brain constantly for the past week (affectionate)

[thirtecnth]

@itsallegra / closed starter / allegra hayes setting: main street

Being back in town was both nostalgic and torture. He thought that since time had passed, the good would be a lot more present than the bad, but everything was just older. He had changed so much more than his hometown ever did. The only unexpected thing was the monsters that came out at night.

Rolling his eyes, Benjamin put in his earphones and continued his jog down the street. He had enough music downloaded to last him a while still, but he didn't want to think about the years ahead and everything he would miss. As he glanced down to search through the current selection, his feet carried him around the corner of a building and almost directly into someone else.

"Jesus, I'm sorry," he said and reached out, hoping to steady them, but blinked in immediate recognition. "Alle?" He let out a sigh. "Didn't ever expect to see you here again."

[tomwambsgans]

Miracle on 5th Avenue ❄ a tomgreg christmas fic

wordcount: 13,758 chapters: 5/5 tags/warnings: s2 christmas, flashbacks, character study, hurt/comfort, repression, catholicism, family drama, banter, confessions, canon divergence, hopeful ending, nutcracker allegory

Miserable but coping with the state of his life, most of all his marriage, Tom is determined to make this Christmas as good as it used to be.

Where he struggles most, he's not alone.

[gray-morality]

Jól

2023.01.03

He’d quietly slip out of bed, naked as the day he was born, just to make use of the chamber pot downstairs and rekindle the fire; the small cabin would be warm by the time she’d wake up. As the sky was still dark and full of stars, the viera climbed back the flight of stairs and returned to his spot under the covers. He might be used to the cold but warmth was always welcomed. Wrapping his arms around the sleeping form of his beloved, he couldn’t help but smile when she nudged closer, burying her face against his chest. He kissed the top of her head as he let a hand wander, following the curve of her hip and climbing up her back, fingers burying into that cascade of curly red hair. He was at peace and, while sleep was beckoning, his mind decided now was a good time to reflect on the past. It was that time of the year after all.

Obviously, the first thought on Fakhri’s mind was about himself and the woman in his arms - of everything he had shared with her about his past, the children he had sired, the ones he had adopted… and their shared decision to ditch the contraceptive and try to conceive a child. He was no scientist or scholar and thus had no inkling on the probability of a child born of a Miqo’te and a Viera. Maybe it was impossible, he never met one even in his long life, but they’d still try, regardless. Because the idea of raising their child together filled them both with joy and a deep, soothing kind of warmth. He would also be lying if he said he didn’t enjoy their moment of intimacy. He never had any desire for the women he had to sleep with; it was his duty to his tribe and nothing more. Good thing physical stimulation was enough because his head and his heart certainly had never been in it. He’d never imagine that, some centuries later, he’d meet a special lady who’d change all that. His girl, his love. 

Even with eyes closed, he knew her by heart. That wild mane of red hair that he brushed so often, her visage with the square jaw that was often deemed unattractive on a woman, her freckles, so many freckles, one could even say too many, that small bust and wide hips that didn’t fall into the standards of female beauty… heck, she was so beautiful. So damn beautiful. He could lose himself in the amber of her eyes, and how he loved the deep dimples on her cheeks when she smiled. He felt the soft caress of a stray tail on his leg and he smiled in turn; ya, he loved her tail too, and those cute, soft ears. He let his mind wander with images of her, basking in his adoration for that woman, remembering their shared moments - the lazy ones in comforting silence, the animated discussions over a good meal, the dancing in the middle of their small apartment, and their moment of intimacy with their breath mingling and their bodies seeking one another.

Well, that was a good image for his mind to focus on but, if he wanted to avoid waking her up with his hard-on, he had best force that image out. Ah! Yes… Jól. They called it Starlight in Eorzea and while their festivities were far more… colorful, they were still enjoyable. However, the traditions of his people were dear to him and, if he had the means - some years had been rougher than others - he’d honor those traditions. On their last visit to the cabin, he had set aside a rather large log and had brought in a bag all the rest - pine cones, dried berries, a cutting of mistletoe and pine needles, and some jute rope. Maybe he’d go gather a branch of birch for them to be blessed with fertility…  He also had brought plenty of candles and would go cut a small pine tree to bring inside, and maybe Seda would enjoy making a wreath with him. She had already decorated the place with evergreen for his nameday on the previous moon and thus doubted she’d mind renewing the dried branches for fresh ones.

His mind was still musing on everything he’d have to do once the sun rose when Seda stirred and mumbled, only to settle even closer against him. Alright, alright, time to sleep a few bells more it seemed. Even Arak had climbed on top of him and subsequently disappeared, finding a spot in between the two bodies to seek warmth. Letting his mind drift, Fakhri found sleep waiting for him and he welcomed it with a smile on his lips.

[magigalxx]

Surprise! New video after who knows how long