#m.m.

[fictionfolk-culture-is]

Fictionkin culture is saying "this is true/canon i was/am ___ !!" as a half joke except its not really a joke because you are who you say you are

.

[justjensenanddean]

TheBoysTV

[bazahabinga]

Some stylized face refs for myself. I'll do more later. I just needed to do these so I stop struggling and changing how I draw them

[obrashir]

they actually mean so much to me.. like they're kinda the greatest love story in this whole show, meaning that no matter how much they always berated each other or fought and how big of a monster butcher slowley became, no matter what, through everything they always stood by each other and got each other's back and even when they hate each other they're there for the other, they started together and are still together and they're endgame and. you get me. "we got a problem?" "we cool, man. we cool." britney spears yeah dot gif........

[mothmute]

A while back I had a conversation with a friend, where they were positing "love" as deeply connected to a concept of "understanding" somebody; I didn't quite agree, and it took me a while to figure out where our thinking diverged.

Cats helped me figure it out.

They will never understand my life and the forces that drive me, any more than I will really understand theirs. Our experiences of reality will always be so fundamentally different.

And yet love is undeniably present. Rather than understanding each other in a literal sense, we have found an understanding with one another; acknowledging that some gaps will never be bridged, while communicating in the ways we can.

[soft-persephone]

Miss Me?

Marvin Mother’s Milk x Fem!Reader

MDNI // M // WC: .8k // missing my husband, so here’s some light fluff and smut // masterlist

Marvin sighed as he walked through the doors of his home. Despite how weary and tired he felt, he was glad to be home.

When it was just him , it felt like a solitary fortress built out of his failure to keep his family together, a physical manifestation of his inability to be enough for his daughter, his wife . . . but now it’s the place he built his love with you.

It was warm, welcoming, and always on his mind when he was away, especially now more than ever.

He did it. Soldier boy was gone. He had justice for his family and everything he’s been through. He had some closure he could finally settle down with and accept. His father’s life work was not in vain.

He took a shower.

The apartment is entirely too quiet without you. After his routine of antibacterial soap, cleansing soap, moisturizing soap, and then body wash into oil, lotion, and then body butter, he slumped into the couch in fresh clothes a sigh.

“Marvin is that you?” A voice called out from the other side.

He sat up.

“Before he could utter out a single word and answer your question and confirm his presence you were all over him.

“Oh my God, Marvin!” you slid your hand along his shoulders, and he hummed. As if reading his mind, the rest you followed. Pressing yourself into him, you straddled his lap. “It’s really you! I can’t believe it! Is it over? Did you get him? Is he dead? Are you okay like, legally?— physically? Are you. . “

Marvin smiled as you kept going, keeping him from actually answering any of your questions.

He slid his hands along your skin,savoring how his large hands felt as they moved down the soft warm skin of your back, over the smoothness of your thighs, the curve of your ass. How soft and tender you felt before settling them at your hips.

Your body responded instantly, doing his favorite cute little wiggle as you settled more snugly on his lap in a more comfortable position. Your knees dug into the cushions of the couch, your hands sliding from his shoulders to his chest as you sunk down, and your hips settled flush against him, so close he could feel the heat of you past the tiny shorts made of the thinnest material pajama set he’d ever witnessed— because you get hot at night.

“Baby,” he spoke low across your lips in the calmest voice he could muster, “breath.” He interrupted your current tangent on the interior design changes you’ve made, what they were, why, and what else needed to be done, and how they incorporate both his and your personal taste.

He slid one of his hands from your hips to your back, rubbing up and down and in small circles. It worked. Your demeanor in

“I love it, and I can’t wait to finish it with you and see how it all comes together.” He said in the same low calm tone, in as much of a whisper as he could manage.

You smiled, by the look in your eye he could tell your mind was running a mile a minute to figure out what to say next. He was going to say. . . Something, but the new mirror in the corner caught his eye, or — to be more exact, the way you looked in it did.

“That mirror new?”

“Yes,” You started excitedly, “it really opens up the. . . “ Marvin cut you off with a kiss to your neck. A soft moan fell from your lips.

“What, you don’t have nothing else to say?” He mumbled against your chest as thumbed your shorts to the side.

His smirk was hot on your skin when he felt your hips dip towards the movement of his hand, chasing the friction of his thumb.

“It’s okay babygirl,” he pulled his painfully hard and swollen dick out and rubbed his tip through your folds, sending a spark down his spine and a shiver down your back, “I missed you,” he placed his forehead on yours, murmuring his words across your lips. Your frantic inhales and exhales danced against his lips and tickled his eyelashes.

“You miss me too?”

“Yes.” You said breathily. Your tongue darted hotly across his lips, brushing gently against his as you did.

“Show me,” Marvin wasted no time thrusting into you. He watched himself slide in and out of you with each thrust. He fought the urge to throw his head back as he moaned. He wanted to keep watching how his hands look planted on each side of your ass, keeping you in place as he thrusted up into you, each one making you gush impossibly wet on his dick.

Sitting up, you press down on his chest with one hand the other gripping the couch behind him as you take over the pace. Squeezing tight around him with each surge of your hips as you ground down on him like never before.

“Fuck, baby.” He dragged out in a low breathy moan, “You must have really missed me.”

.

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taglist: @megamindsecretlair @planetblaque @nerdieforpedro @notapradagurl7 @avoidthings

@chaithetics @blackburnbook

[marcusfive]

Dave Gahan

𝑫𝒆𝒑𝒆𝒄𝒉𝒆 𝑴𝒐𝒅𝒆

[truthcakes]

It's not "playing the death card" you entitled prick

Over seven million people died, and you wanna act like someone's being unreasonable about it

Fuck off.