Same, Oh My God. This Song Is Otherworldly. Combined With The Breathtaking Scenery Of Talokan? MAGIC.

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

my nb pals, you're all welcome here❤

Please Reblog is Your Blog is Safe for Non-Binary People.

If my mutuals can’t rb this then we can’t be mutuals

The Avengers Aesthetics

Tony Stark: freshly brewed black coffee. desks filled with miscellaneous papers strewn everywhere. harsh winters. tinkering at 2 am. records of different rock bands. a drawer filled with treasured gifts from loved ones. nibbling on fingernails. the pungent scent of alcohol. ostentatious colors of red and gold. roughed up worker boots. a mind saturated with intuitive thoughts. sarcastic quips and half smirks. tired eyes. aching bones. the feeling of being lost.

Steve Rogers: dewy mornings. bright toothy smiles. freshly baked cherry pies from Brooklyn Cafes. 40′s swing music. baby blue sweaters and light brown khakis. bruised knuckles. burtbees chapstick. a broken compass. old letters from loved ones. polaroids. melancholy. forehead kisses. notebooks and wooden pencils. fingers covered in graphite. the feeling of looking for something that cannot be found.

Natasha Romanoff: red lipstick. bubblegum. wine stains on white napkins. clint’s jackets. stilettos. hail storms. broken ballet shoes. small smirks. framed candids of the team. russian novels. rhubarb ice cream. roses with sharp thorns. goosebumps. black shiny leather. heartache. hair filled with secrets. 80s movies. the feeling of wanting to let go.

Clint Barton: ripped bandages. coffee pots brewed to the tip. cotton tee shirts. the taste of honeydew. crooked smiles. spending time with family. reading comics at night. wanting to stay in bed after waking up. loyalty. calluses. worn out bones. ripped canvases. the feeling of losing security.

Bruce Banner: yellow jumpers. classical music. sad smiles. notepads filled with theoretical discoveries. broken pencils. clean lab coats. isolation. greek mythology. wanting to be a better person. stress relief dogs. chamomile tea. learning new languages. the feeling of losing control.

Thor Odinson: belly laughs. large hands. mead. early morning walks. meeting up with friends. lumberjack boots. catching fireflies at night. braided hair. the colors of the bifrost bridge. norse poems. poptarts. a collection of different items from the nine realms. the feeling of fear when all hope is lost.

Peter Parker: frayed sweaters. bubbly laughter and shy smiles. chipped cassettes. neon city lights. greasy cheese pizza. tangled headphones. glossy eyes. spearmint gum. bed hair. torn sneakers. a notebook filled with favorite movies. earthy scents. the feeling of insecurity.

Wanda Maximoff: broken mosaics. trembling hands. timid smiles. leather gloves. ripped jeans. the scent of freshly cooked paprikash. recorded videos of loved ones. black nail polish. indie music. sci fi books. exotic candles. a bruised heart. empty glass bottles of perfume. the feeling of never being good enough.

Stephen Strange: dry wit. record players. tailored suits. cocky smirks. scarred hands. classic literature books with uneven binding. success and ambition. ballroom dancing. the scent of aftershave. collections of antique items. red and blue drapes. late sunsets. chipped coffee mugs. a broken clock. the feeling of wanting to know more but never knowing enough.

Bucky Barnes: cheeky grins. irish coffee. the solitary feeling of being alone. quiet laughter. harsh breaths and heaving chests. golden retriever puppies. Chopin’s Nocturne Op.9 No.3. local newspapers. suave pick up lines. breakfast foods. corny jokes. the feeling of not belonging anywhere. 

T’challa Udaku: royal blues and golds. the nostalgic feeling of listening to old music. family heirlooms. feeling content after a day of being productive. sunny afternoons and picnics. smiles from loved ones. a stomach filled with butterflies. banter between siblings. the feeling of being burdened with great responsibility.

Scott Lang: childish laughter. grandma scarves. deep and unconditional love. a heart of gold. the scent of homemade cinnamon twists. longing for stability. fitted black shirts. bruised fingers. pastel colors. scattered blueprints. erratic yet intellectual thoughts. the feeling of not wanting to be another disappointment. 

them. themmmm! THEMMM!♡♡♡♡♡♡

them💕

ugh i can't

i'm on s3 ep2 of the blacklist & oh. my god. watching red threaten that guy who kept treating his girlfriend like shit did things to me

aw♡ val's smile is so adorable while tom just looks confused af😭❤

“And nearly a quarter century after Top Gun, when Kilmer and Tom Cruise, by chance, attended the same Los Angeles Lakers game in 2009, they found themselves together again, shown split-screen on the Jumbotron, while Kenny Loggins’s “Danger Zone” played over the speakers.”

this is my absolute comfort movie and i don't even know why<3 virgil is such a sweetheart

At First Sight (1999)

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.

soooo is anyone gonna do something with the fact that logan has flight anxiety & very nearly hurled on the plane in xmen: origins or do i have to do it myself👀 cause i've only seen ONE fanart on it ( @acdtaaz go check their work on it out it's absolutely gorgeous♡)

noooo don't think about poolverine flying together and wade finally realizing that logan REALLY doesn't do well on flights cause damn his kitty cat is green with nausea and crushing his hand in his grip oh no-