Very Late Review But SCREAMING CRYING THROWING BRICKS AAAAAAA

bro the transphobia on instagram is just getting worse tf😭 i'll just hide back on here in my fandoms ughaaa

reminder: if you're transphobic, homophobic, racist, sexist, etc. then not kindly f*ck off my blog. you're not welcome here

WHA-

EXCUSE ME MISS SLAY

HOLY FUCK HE LOOKS SO GOOD

Schneider out and about in Dresden may 2024, found on ig marionyrp, original credit Jack Theripper 🌺

update 2:

AAAAAAA GELSENKIRCHEN HERE WE GOOO!🔥🔥

no feuerzone tickets sadly but we got category 1 seats right up front! my dad got tickets on the right side of the stage because he knows how much i love richard xD

so happy right now aaaagh🖤🖤🖤

who am i gonna see there? :-)

hi i would just like to share that i have influenced our whole household (which is my dad and i) with my poolverine/dp&w/xmen brain slush to the point that my dad has added "bye bye bye" & "like a prayer" to his regular shower playlist (yes he has one and it blasts through our whole apartment)

i couldn't be more proud

AAAAAAAAAAAAA

LOSING MY SHIT RIGHT NOW

part ∞ of jon dear please stop breaking my heart

this part at the end of mag 123

THE DELIVERY! :-(♡ ugh poor thing

(also is everyone drinking i hate jon juice around this point or what tf)

this is the sweetest thing i've ever read oh my god♡_♡ i love

[Mavdad and Jake]

Looks like a winter bear, You sleep so happily

Jake didn’t mean to fall asleep. It’s just that the sofa was a massive, soft thing that sinks like a dream the moment you sit down, let alone when you snuggle deep into the cushions and especially when you’re halfway dead from a long ass day trip.

He can feel the coolness of the supple leather under the skin of his exposed arm as he lies on his side, feel the way it gives when he pulls his knees up closer to his belly and the tiny little squeak of skin on leather as he moves his right arm under his warm firm throw pillow. 

Jake settles with a small inaudible sigh, finally happy with his new position. 

“Well he’s sure is comfy.” 

Jake stills. His brain is still foggy from sleep, but he’s waking up fast. His fingers, the ones gripping his throw pillow, flex reflexively around the - what the fuck the pillow flexed back?

“He’s tired, Bradley.” There’s the sound of a chuckle right above him and a hand in his hair - well. Shit. He’s been sleeping with his head in Mav’s lap. There’s a pause and the sound of someone unlocking their phone and the telltale sound of a camera app.

“I’m sending this to the group - it’s just too cute.” The humor is evident in Rooster’s voice and Jake scowls. “Holy shit Mav look - his face’s all scrunched up– fuck that’s adorable.” 

Mav’s hand in Jake’s hair begins to brush through the fluffy blond mess. He remembers now that he came straight to Mav and Ice’s house from Lemoore on his first day of shoreleave, an unholy long drive that he would only ever put himself through for a very very select few people in his life. It used to be just the Machado family, but now Jake is proud (and a little bewildered) to say that he’s running out of fingers when he counts the members of “Jake Gives A Shit About You” club. 

Wild how half a year ago his only definition of home is a room in the barracks or a bunk on his assigned carrier. Jake was just used to living out of his bags when every place he lands on is only temporary - too used to leaving before he can put down roots because he learned early on in life that putting down roots means risking having your roots yanked out of the ground and losing a few parts of yourself that you can’t get back.  

But now his duffle bag is unpacked and his clothes (as little as they are given the short shoreleave) are neatly folded and put away in a nice mahogany wardrobe that Ice dragged out of storage for him, in a room with a bed covered in Kazansky family heirloom quilt, two doors down from the master bedroom.

His sneakers are in the cabinet in the foyer, his keys - the car and to this house- is in a little bowl on the foyer’s side table, his jacket hanging beside Mav’s letterman with a massive emblem of a winged dagger on its back (a gag gift from their special detachment - the emblem something that Fan drunkenly sketched out on a napkin that he pinched from Penny’s bar, declaring magnanimously that its now “Our coat of arms, chiquitas and chiquitos”). 

Mav’s fingers shift lazily through Jake’s hair and tugs a little at the end before starting back from the roots. His thigh under Jake’s cheek is perfectly still even as his stomach quivers in his silent laughter at something that Rooster said. The savory scent of dinner earlier still wafts in the den, intermingling oddly with the scent of the reed diffuser on the small circular table by the window.

Jake can hear the sounds of the dishwasher closing and cutleries being put away, Ice’s and aunt Sarah’s voice a low murmur with the occasional peal of laughter from the Admiral’s sister. From outside, Jake can just hear the metallic sounds the basketball hoop makes as someone scores, excited yells from the kids just barely muffled by the house.  

“RooRoo, I wanna play,” Little Jack’s voice carries over to their little hide-away, one of Rooster’s many sort-of cousins no doubt making grabby hands at his phone, judging by Rooster’s quiet laughter. 

“No, Jack, hold on, I'm texting my friends– here, look you wanna say hi to Bobby?”

The steady sound of his phone’s notification from the coffee table tells Jake that there’s a lot of replies from their group chat - most likely in response to whatever picture of Jake napping in Mav’s lap that Rooster shared in the group. Jake doesn’t even feel the slightest bit annoyed by that. He’s in a house with two parents, little cousins, an aunt, and whatever Rooster is - nothing short of wild horses dragging him out of this house can upset him. 

Rooster’s quiet laughter builds up to a cackle as Mav’s hand moves from his head to tuck his shoulders further into the couch, illogically worried that Jake was gonna roll off the furniture. Warmth spreads through Jake’s chest at that. 

“Jack,” the cackle grows louder accompanied by the sounds of Jack’s high pitched laughter, “No no no don’t text that– ”

“Jackie, why don’t you and Bradley take this outside?” Mav hums and Jake feels the older man shift to bring him closer, his head snug in the cradle of Mav’s hips with his forearm across Jake’s chest. “I think the rest of the kids are playing a game or two on the court - you wanna show Bradley what Rueben taught you? Hey, Bradley, can you pass me the– yeah.” 

“Pay was here?” Jake hears the surprise in Bradley’s tone. He hears the sound of soft fabric being moved off slippery leather and Mav’s whispered thanks as he feels softness and warmth drape over his legs to his waist. “When was that?”

“About a month ago, I think?” Mav’s voice is contemplative and his hand falls back on Jake’s shoulder, squeezing a little. “Just for dinner, he wasn’t around for long.” The hand rubs up and down his arm, massaging his sore muscles. “God, the drive must’ve really worn him out - poor kid.”

“RooRoo.” Jake hides his smile in Mav’s jeans. “Let’s goooooo.”

“Alright, alright - calm down, short stack.” 

Jake hears the sounds of feet scrambling on carpet, the frantic footfall of little feet running out of the den and a calmer set following. His phone continues to ping with notifications on the coffee table, the only sound in the comfortable silence of the den. Jake opens his eyes slowly, pupils adjusting to the slightly dim golden light of the room- signs that the golden hour is coming to its tail-end . Jake takes a moment to just breathe, taking in lungfuls of the reed diffusers, the fabric softener Mav uses, faint scent of his own cologne, the smell of home.

He rolls his shoulder, dislodging Mav’s hand to fall to the dip of his waist as he shifts his body to lay flat on the sofa. 

“Knew you were awake.” Mav jostles his thigh and Jake’s head shakes, drawing a short bark of laughter. “Don’t feel like socializing?”

“Nah,” Jake hums. He looks up at Mav and smiles. “Wanna spend time with my old man.”

Mav smiles back at him, green eyes as soft as the first time they really looked at Jake in that emergency room months ago. Pulling up the throw blanket, Jake turns to lie on his side, his face buried in Mav’s stomach and Mav’s hand caressing the back of his head.

He falls asleep.

this

still remains as one of the sluttiest stances i have ever seen in all of marvel & i love it

i'm saying this as a (usually) full on women-loving sapphic, I enjoyed every SECOND of them thick ass fine specimen m'baku & namor