My God I Wasn't Expecting Such Great Feedback, I Love You Guys:'-) I'm Working On The Fic! It's Gonna

no because them🥺♡

Top Gun: Maverick (2022)

just read hoffstrahm smut in class hbu<3

(going mad over them)

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.

after adding hobie to my list of characters i obsess over... i might just sketch out a punk doc ock cosplay

(or a punk loki? a only lovers left alive loki variant? with a costume variation? omg)

no noooo NOOOO MY POOR LITTLE HEART

this is so so beautiful! very much pain but so well done :'-)❤

icemav: we keep this love in a photograph

pain

you bet mobius would be making a TON of tree jokes lol :-D this is so cute!♡

✨ Rockin’ around the Christmas tree ✨ . . We all know who decorated Loki🤭💕

Slider sat in the chair, the steady beeping of the heart monitor his only company. He looked over his best friend, still a commanding presence despite his current frailty. He rolled his neck on a sigh as he glanced at the clock.

He hoped to have two more hours before the whirlwind arrived. A glance at his phone revealed messages from Wood and Sarah. Wood is on his way to get the hurricane, Sarah was on her way back to the hospital.

Ron knew he needed to be strong today, they had all been blindsided by the speed of events. Tom was diagnosed three weeks ago and Mav was due back next week. Surgery was scheduled for the week after that, but when Tom collapsed in his office the day before, the timetable was thrown out the window.

Surgery had gone well, the pathology was not back, but the knew Tom would have some amount of follow up treatments. Sarah walked into the room, two large cups of coffee in his hand. As she passed him a cup, she trailed her hand over his shoulder, squeezing the right muscle. "Did you sleep at all?"

Ron lied through his exhausted smile, "Some. I'll be ok. He should be here soon." Sarah knew Ron was lying but they didn't say more as Tom groggily opened his eyes. "Tom, you can't talk, don't try." Sarah's voice was kind, but firm. Tom pushed himself to open his eyes wider. He looked around the room, disappointment apparent on his face as a scanned the room. Ron stepped forward, "Don't do that Tommy. He's on his way. You blindsided us all yesterday. Wood's on his way to get him."

Tom nodded and opened his lips. Ron shook his head fiercely, "NO TALKING!" Sarah slid the whiteboard into Tom's left hand and a pen in his right. "Surgery?" He wrote, handwriting shaky.

A voice from behind answered, "Admiral, nice to see you awake. Surgery went well. We got the margins, but we are going to make a treatment plan. It's too soon to know about your voice yet. Don't try to use it if you ever want it back." Tom nodded in understanding, appreciating the directness of his surgeon. As soon as the doctor cleared the door, the sounds of running boots echoed through hall.

Sarah and Ron stepped away from the bed, clearing the space for the runner. The boots skidded to a halt outside the door before making their way into the room. Pete looked exhausted, he's been on the air when the call came in and on transports for 20 hours since then. Tom's eyes slipped closed as he waited for Pete to say something. Pete collapsed to his knees, tears streaming down his face. The surgery must have gone wrong, Tom wasn't awake. Pete wasn't ready to talk to the doctors yet and face the future, right now he needed to lament what was lost.

Wood and Wolf stood outside the door, neither wanting to be far from their family nor wanting to interrupt. From his spot on the floor, Pete heard a soft tapping, his name in Morse code. He looked up to see Tom's green eyes looking at him in confusion. On the whiteboard, "Pete, are you hurt?"

Pete took a deep breath, exhaling on a soft chuckle. "Only my heart, dear. You scared the hell out of me." Ron and Sarah waited, glancing out the door at Wood and Wolf nodding for them to come in.

In the bed, Tom scribbled on the whiteboard and wiggled slightly closer to the side with the monitors and opened his arms wide, whiteboard out, "C'mere"

Pete sat frozen, afraid to get to close, to hurt Tom. Tom pointed at the whiteboard with his head and shook it slightly for emphasis. Pete looked over at Ron and Sarah, earning an eye roll from Tom. Ron nodded and Pete launched himself off his knees and rushed to the bed. He stopped, trying unsuccessfully to remove his boots.

Ron huffed, "Just get in the damn bed, Pete. I'll get them." Pete crawled into Tom's open arms and the two sighed in unison. Everyone else in the room shook their heads, never have any two people been more in love, they were sure of it.

Ron untied Pete's boots, struggling to get them off. Pete's feet and ankles were swollen, a sure sign of the long hours of travel. Ron leaned over the pair, "You get two hours and then I'm taking Pete to shower and eat. I'm guessing he hasn't done either of those since yesterday." Pete ignored Ron, even as Tom nodded in agreement.

Tom held Pete tightly, taking the comfort he needed from his husband. Tom wrote on the board again, "How long do I have you?"

Pete grinned, "Forever and a day." Tom smiled as he fixed the question. "How long are you in for?"

Pete shrugged, "I'm done." Murmurs of confusion on the room were interrupted by Wolf, "I thought you had a month left."

Pete shook his head, "I'm quitting." Ron's eyebrows shot up, as did Tom's, "Quitting what?"

Pete snuggled into Tom's shoulder as he casually replied, "The Navy." The room stilled, nobody moved a muscle. The only sound was Tom's monitor, the rhythm faster now. Tom kept his left arm around Pete as he wrote on the whiteboard with his right. "NO!"

Pete didn't look at the board, he knew what it said. "I'm not asking, Tom. I was halfway across the world, it took me more than a damn day to get here. What if I had been too late?"

"NO!" Pete furrowed his brow, that was a commanding voice. He lifted an eyebrow at Hollywood, standing at the foot of the bed. "I don't remember asking permission, Rick."

"Technically, Mav," he trailed off, but Pete knew where he was going. "Fuck," he muttered. Wood was up the chain of command for Mav and would have to sign off on discharge papers. Mav's contract wasn't up yet so it wasn't as straightforward as not renewing. Tom's silent laugh shook in his chest.

Wolf jumped in, "You can't quit, Mav. We will sort this all out, but you can't quit. You COULD stop pissing off admirals though."

In the corner, Sarah spit coffee at those words. She dabbed at her mouth and nose, "Sorry, but that's like telling Tom to stop being an admiral. File it under things that will never happen."

The group nodded and Pete looked over his shoulder at his sister-in-law. She was as steadfast a person as any in his life. She knew the pair of them too well. He jutted her chin at her, "I promise I'll do my part if Tom will take extended leave."

Nobody looked over, they heard the tapping of the whiteboard and knew the answer. Pete shrugged. He looked at Wood, "Do they still have an opening for a test pilot out in the desert?"

Ron huffed, "No work talk today. Today is a family day!" Just as he finished his declaration his phone rang. He screwed up his face as he looked at the number and answered, "Admiral Kerner."

The group laughed as Ron stepped out of the room. "Isn't it ironic," Wolf sang as the chuckles continued. Tom's eyelids drooped and Pete's eyes slid closed. Sarah turned and shooed the two admirals out of the room, closing the door softly behind them. She walked over to the bed, turning the lights in the room out. She fluffed Tom's pillow as Ron reentered the room.

"Help me get Mav's flight suit off his arms. If he has a nightmare, I'm afraid he'll hit Tom as he flails." Sarah knew she couldn't talk Pete into leaving yet, but he hated sleeping in long sleeves and they sometimes they triggered his nightmares. Ron and Sarah worked gently to pull Pete's arms from the flight suit without disturbing the pair.

Tom's eyes fluttered open and he locked eyes with Sarah. "Thank you," he mouthed to her. She nodded as she slipped a pillow under Pete's head and pulled a blanket up over them.

She closed the blinds sat on the couch making space for Ron. "You too, Ron. I'll take the watch." Ron snuggled into his wife, head on her lap as she pulled a blanket around his shoulders. She sipped on her coffee as Ron slept, watching over the most important men in her life. She would make sure they all got through this.

my fellow transmasc korn fans i just found these

i'm just gonna go explode real quick brb

[photo creds to owner]

i just watched white palace (1990) and uuuh-oooh the spader brainrot is getting real deep

(gosh he's so mesmerising in that movie i can't even)

Love this😭😍💗

Sherlock tapping in Morse code onto Johns chest in the middle of the night while he thinks he’s asleep but John, who’s just barely still awake softly smiles into Sherlock’s hair that’s pressed just below his chin not letting him know that he’s feeling every single sweet nothing sherlock’s been too shy to verbalize just yet