#these two are everything

[demigods-posts]

just thinking about how percy's plans look like he's actively trying to get himself killed because he doesn't take the time to explain his plans to anyone else because they are time-sensitive. and how annabeth never needs him to explain anything because she can recognize battle strategy from a mile away. and how she knows that percy only diverges from a collective plan when he sees a flaw in it and is about to do something that'll confuse the opponent long enough for them to gain the upper hand. and how annabeth will only take over when she sees a flaw in his plan and guide them back on track. and how percy gives her the space to play on her strengths instead of fighting her over it because he trusts her judgment. and how all of this basically happens wordlessly because they understand each other.

[pharawee]

"If you need a drinking buddy, you can always contact me."

[fyeaheddiemunson]

[megatruxfr]

Im in a desperate need of more Brank content so i couldnt help but do this

They color swapped and Bam looks F I R E

[anxious-alien-overlord]

Oh, I'm never gonna be the same again

[cr4zytogetherr]

If I had a nickel for every love confession one character makes to another in a critical moment where their consciousness is in an alternate dimension and they need motivation to fight or they might die, I’d have two nickels except one is very different from the other

See milkvans THIS is a life saving love confession. The colors and lighting and imagery being the prettiest most romantic thing in the world and not some shadowy bland mess. It being desperate and actually authentic with tears and actually SAVING Adora. Them SAVING the entire world with their love. It being just them, not cutting to a sad third person (and their brother for some reason). The kiss afterwards and them turning into literal light and actually getting to live their love afterwards without being on weird not-talking terms… not whatever Mike Wheeler got going on

[dreamsandconstellations]

Charlie’s post-season 1 project

[marharteehee]

Art of these two sillies

I love them I feel like everyone must know that

[azure-blaze92]

Happy getting any sort of Wittebane lore anniversary, and these two are my everything

[ant-thebooknerd]

Woah woah woah - are you telling me that Kenji and Nazeera were ALONE and TOGETHER, about to actually, properly confess, but they got interrupted by Emmaline being so desperate to kill herself? GIRL, YOU DIED ANYWAY, YOU DID NOT NEED TO TAKE THAT SCENE AWAY FROM US. You had a sad ending, and I feel bad for you, but I will never forgive you for ruining that for me.

[draculasfavoritewife]

Happier Now

Summary: Alone time on a summer afternoon is a rare thing, and anniversaries are a time for remembering and realization.

Pairing: Emma Frost x Scott Summers

Warnings: More fluff than I usually write (this one is pretty nostalgic and sweet). Lots of innuendos and Emma's flirting -- which really deserves its own warning lol.

Me from two years ago has no excuses. This is purely self-indulgent sweetness because I love soft Emma/Scott moments and this dialogue was absolutely burning a hole in my brain. Sorry not sorry.

Classes finished for the day, Emma Frost takes a minute to herself, leaning against her desk at the front of the classroom and allowing herself to decompress in the quiet. The kids at the Institute test her patience at every turn and drive her absolutely mad sometimes. But she’s never wanted to be anything except a teacher, and the madness is far outweighed by the satisfaction of seeing them grow up in front of her day by day. 

She would never say it aloud, but she would do absolutely ANYTHING for these kids. 

So deep is she in her moment of reverie that she doesn’t know he’s snuck up behind her until he’s kissing her cheek, and she actually jumps. “Scott! Where did you come from?” 

He chuckles, amused that he caught her daydreaming. “Someone’s a million miles away. Or have you just spent so much time with me that my psychic signature is boring to you now?” 

She turns halfway to return his kiss, her fingertips caressing his jaw. “Yours is the only mind I haven’t grown bored of, Darling.” 

“Flattery generally gets people nowhere with me, but for you, I’ll make the exception.” He grins and hands her a single white rose. He’s learning her tastes, and she feels an odd surge of happiness that he remembers so much about her without constantly having to ask what pleases her anymore. 

Emma doesn’t go in for huge, extravagant flower arrangements unless she’s organizing a social event. Minimal elegance goes a long way in her book. 

Scott’s next words leave her at a momentary loss. “Happy anniversary, Em.” 

Which anniversary is it?

They’ve already acknowledged the four-year anniversary of their first date. And she hasn’t quite shared his room for three years. 

So she cheats, takes a glimpse into his thoughts, realizes — has it really been FIVE years since she arrived to teach here? 

“That makes me feel old,” she remarks. 

She knows him well enough to tell he’s rolling his eyes at her behind his opaque glasses. “Let’s not be gloomy, shall we? This is the day we first officially met, five years ago, Em. It’s cause for a…less negative outlook, don’t you think?” 

I didn’t know it at the time, but your arrival was the start of the happiest years of my life…. 

Emma pulls out the thread of what he doesn’t say and smiles. “Aw, you’re such a shameless romantic, Scott.” 

That flusters him for a second, and she could almost swear she sees his face flush. “I didn’t say anything,” he defends himself, though he sounds unsure of that fact. 

“You didn’t have to. Your thoughts are very loud sometimes.” She smirks at him and points to the drink carrier in his right hand. “Please tell me one of those coffees is for me.” 

“No, you’ve rubbed off on me too much. I bought two just so I could rub it in your face that I didn’t get you any.” He hands over one of the cups. 

“How I adore it when you get sarcastic, Lover. I always knew you were just pretending to be such a boy scout.” She takes a sip of the hot drink, noting with uncharacteristic softness that he remembered her current favorite — white chocolate hazelnut latte with almond milk, two shots of espresso, and whipped cream. He’s too good for her. She comes up with ridiculously complicated combinations every other month to see if it throws him off, and yet he cares so much and his memory is so unfairly perfect that he caters to her whims and she can’t even complain about a mistaken order. “Thank you.” 

“My pleasure.” He tastes his own — strong and black, she knows from the smell of it. Hasn’t changed his own preference since long before she came into his life. She’d never drink black coffee, much as the others might think she’s suited for such a bitter drink. She loves that about him, though. It rounds out his masculine and no-nonsense personality, and she can’t deny that she likes to taste the hint of it lingering in his mouth after he drinks it. 

“What does the rest of your day look like?” she asks, pressing her body up to his. He shifts automatically to avoid spilling his drink on her immaculate white jacket. 

“I cleared my schedule. Wanted to spend the evening with you.” Scott glances out the window. “The weather’s nice, and the pool is empty. I don’t know about you, but that sounds like providence to me.” 

“I have a new bikini and no other excuse to wear it. You’re good at formulating plans even when we’re off duty.” She pulls away from him and starts down the hallway. 

“Am I watching your transformation, or are you holding out on me until we get there?” 

Emma flashes him a naughty grin over her shoulder. “I’m holding out on you this time, Lover Boy. After all, if you always get the privilege of seeing me in a state of undress, what power do I have to hold over you anymore?” 

He leans against the wall with a disappointed sigh. “You’re cruel, Emma.” 

“Darling, I wrote the definition of the word.” She sashays off, fiercely delighted that she can feel the heat of his gaze fixed on her swinging hips. 

If only the others knew what dirty thoughts sometimes cross their straight-laced leader’s mind. 

He was right, the weather is perfect for this.

She watches him swim laps as she lounges in a deck chair, admiring his toned muscles and relishing the reality that she can check him out as obviously as she likes. He’s hers now, so she doesn’t have to pretend to disguise the fact that she undresses him with her eyes whenever they’re in a room together. 

Emma has always had a deep appreciation for beauty, and the male form in motion is no exception. Scott Summers moves with an efficient grace no matter what he does. With his ample physical strength, he could be explosive, unfettered, but she finds it much more interesting that he restrains himself, not a motion wasted, every execution clean and sharp. 

Then he’s suddenly still, leaning over the side of the pool. “Somehow when I pictured this, I thought you were going to swim with me,” he complains. 

She leans further back, crossing her arms beneath her head. “What’s the point of a bathing suit as small as mine unless it’s for a good tan? You didn’t actually think this was made for swimming, did you?” 

“You’re not tanning,” he points out, with an infuriating grin. 

It’s true. She’s protected from the late afternoon sunlight by a meticulously placed umbrella, as well as a wide-brimmed hat and a pair of sunglasses that probably cost no less than five hundred dollars. The sun has never been too friendly to Emma’s creamy porcelain complexion. 

She scowls down at Scott, whose more bronze tones always manage to tan gorgeously. 

He pulls himself out of the water. “Come on, I’ll put sunscreen on you if you’ll get in the water with me.” 

“Don’t get me all wet,” she tosses at him, handing him the bottle of lotion. 

“Don’t tempt me.” 

Removing her hat, she pulls her hair up and slides forward so he can sit behind her on the lounge and start working on her back. She relaxes into the familiar touch of his hands as he massages the sunscreen into her skin, firm but gentle, just the way she likes it. Can she really be faulted for demanding he give her back rubs so often?

The man is the god of back rubs. 

“Has it really been five years?” she murmurs. 

“The time has sure flown by.” His thumbs are higher than they need to be, working the knots out of her neck, and she sighs with relief as the tightness of the day finally releases. “I still remember,” he stifles a slight laugh, “how shocked I was when the Professor introduced you to me.” 

“Whatever do you mean?” 

“Well, the way he talked about you, ‘former headmistress of the Massachusetts Academy’, I thought you were…much older, for one thing.” 

And much less sexy, is what he doesn’t say aloud. 

He catches her knowing smile and this time, she’s CERTAIN he reddens slightly. “And then you walked in, and all the puzzle pieces finally fell together. I definitely wasn’t expecting the Professor to hire the White Queen on the faculty, that’s for sure.” 

“How did you feel about that?” She’s not usually one for fond reminiscence, but the way he’s talking has her feeling strangely sentimental. 

“Confused. I think I was equal parts outraged and still trying to be welcoming. Not to mention your wardrobe is very provocative, which wasn’t helpful to my composure.” 

Emma laughs softly at his honesty. “I knew you were secretly more affected than you let on.” 

His hands move lower, and she arches her back against the delicious pressure, letting his knuckles knead into her tired muscles. “I wonder sometimes what your first impression of me was.” 

“You’re so bad at hinting.” She falls quiet for a moment, considering. “I remember seeing you there, in your tight black t-shirt and those dark-wash jeans, and I think the first coherent thought I ever devoted to you was, ‘Hmm…this Scott Summers has a nice butt’.” 

“You didn’t.” He can’t seem to make up his mind whether to be flattered, embarrassed, or downright horrified. 

“No, you called my bluff. I was much more taken by your massive —” 

“EMMA!” 

“— Thighs, Sweetheart. I was going to say thighs.” 

“Somehow I don't believe you.” 

“Pectorals?” she tries, turning to run her fingers across the muscles in question and seeing his jaw twitch at the suggestive contact. “Biceps? Or maybe it was your glorious hair — I’ve always thought you had the softest hair, even when you had it cut so short.” 

He raises one eyebrow, lips stern. He says nothing, but she can tell he knows it’s a load of bull.

She looks away again. 

“Truthfully, I noticed your mental imprint before I ever saw you. It stood out among the legions of others. Your thoughts were focused, intense, raw, even. I felt how you held yourself to crushing standards, kept up a façade, and in the midst of so many sharp and chilly thoughts directed at me, yours were like flames. The only taste of heat I could find.” 

She knows he’s staring at her, that she’s surprised him with so human a confession. 

“I held onto that as I walked past rows of judgmental eyes, wanting to meet whoever was such a brilliant flash of light in the midst of an admittedly dark time in my life. I think you felt the brush of my consciousness against yours, because that’s when you turned, and we made eye contact. At first I didn’t think it could possibly be you, since you were so well-groomed, so aloof. But then I saw that same intensity reflected on your face, just for a moment, and I….” 

She trails off, suddenly feeling like she’s peeled back one too many layers, and all of her childhood conditioning kicks in. Don’t ever open up, it makes you seem weak. 

He stops his work with the sunscreen, resting his chin on her shoulder as his arms encircle her, pulling her back against his body. “And then what happened?” he asks, barely above a whisper, and his lips are smiling into her neck, and she’s reminded all over again that Scott already knows her weaknesses, and he would never even dream of taking advantage of them. 

She’s not delicate, even if she looks it, and she’ll crush anyone who calls her so. But Scott keeps all of her weak moments and her softness cradled somewhere deep inside him, where he’ll never allow any harm to come of them. And she is hit all over again with his sweetness, and his caring, and she finds now that she does want him to know exactly what she thought of him that day, five years ago. 

“…And so I thought, ‘Maybe I’m not alone. Maybe there’s someone here who understands what I’ve been through, and I won’t be completely on my own in the world anymore’.” She lets out the breath she’s been holding, amazed at the lightness in her chest now that she’s said it.

“And THEN I started thinking about your butt.” 

He’s laughing as he kisses her collarbone. “Thank you,” he tells her sincerely, as he moves on to slather sunscreen down her legs. “That means a lot.” 

She can tell that it really does, and it makes her happy, to know that. 

“Do you want me to help you with your front?” he asks, nodding at the sheer amount of skin her risqué top leaves exposed. 

“I think I had better handle that area myself, if you want me to ever actually end up in the water with you,” she retorts.

His self-control may be better than most, but even his isn’t THAT good. 

“Suit yourself.” He shrugs. 

“I will, thank you. You can, however, aid me in un-suiting myself later, if you so wish.” 

When they finally complete their task and he at last coaxes her into the water, she remembers what he was thinking earlier.

You were right, Scott. I’ve never been happier since I met you. 

[delicatefalice]

the new wizards show better give us all the jerry theresa content

[roosterbox]

October Almost-Drabbles 10/4: Pumpkin

Pairing: Steddie

Word Count: 621

Additional tags: FLUFF, pumpkin carving, transfemme!Steve

Side note: was initially going to be t4t, but I didn’t end up getting around to Eddie’s characterization. I think it’s already too long as it is, lol. I don’t mind it if you think of him that way though.

Side note #2: new headcanon unlocked - Eddie is awesome at pumpkin carving artwork.

———

“Is it ready yet?”

Stevie was almost bouncing in her chair. Her own pumpkin was finished - triangle cut out eyes and a big toothy smile - so now all that was left was Eddie’s. But the big jerk wouldn’t let her see. ‘Not until it’s done,’ he’d said.

Stevie Harrington wasn’t known for her patience.

“Almost,” Eddie said, not looking at her. He was surprisingly focused. For him, at least. His hair was tied back, though some thin wisps managed to settle against his forehead, and his tongue was pressed anxiously to the corner of his mouth. He wore a similar look when he was working hard on his campaigns. It seemed like an awful lot of concentration and trouble for a pumpkin carving, Stevie thought. But that only made her want to see even more.

“How much longer?”

Eddie sighed, more out of fondness than exasperation. “In a minute, baby.” He looked up and winked at her. “Can’t rush art.”

Right. Pumpkin art. She rolled her eyes a little. Never saw much need for any fanciness. Everybody loves the simple designs, right? Besides, there’s only so much a person can do with a pumpkin.

After a few moments, with one final flourish of the carving knife, Eddie turned to her, smiling.

“All done! Wanna see my masterpiece?”

She rolled her eyes again, but she was smiling too. “Damn right I do. Make some room.”

He scooted his chair out from the table a bit so she could plop down on his lap. Eddie coughed out a mild ‘gentle on the goods there, darlin’’ before wrapping his arms around her. She made herself quite comfortable before actually looking at the…

…pumpkin?

“Oh shit,” she breathed.

It was the moon. A carving of a full moon. With craters and everything, though they probably weren’t scientifically accurate if she’d had to guess. But damn, it looked good. The way he’d carved into the flesh of the pumpkin, not all the way through but thin enough for the light to pass through, was incredible. There were cut-outs along the side, a few in the moon shape itself. It took her a minute to realize they were bats. Just like one ones on Eddie’s arm.

“Like it? I was gonna try to do a howling werewolf or something. Felt too cliché.”

“It’s amazing, Eds.” She kissed his cheek, leaving a tiny smudge of her dark red lipstick. Neither moved to wipe it away. “Have you always carved pumpkins like this?”

He shrugged, and held her closer. “Not really. Got tired of the typical shit a few years ago, figured I could stand to get more creative.” At her withering look, he sputtered, “N-not that yours is uncreative or anything! I mean, that design is a classic for a reason, and-“

She silenced him with a kiss. Slow and deep, leaving his lips stained red. But before she could grab a tissue or a towel, he licked them clean. This earned him another fond eyeroll.

“How’s my lipstick taste?”

Another lick. He grinned. “Perfect. Just like my Stevie.”

“Dork,” she said, and settled further in his lap.

“You love me though.” He nuzzled at her neck, kissing a bit at the freckles and beauty marks there.

“Yeah, I do. God help me, but I do.”

Another time, he might have feigned offense. Maybe even whined about his cruel, cruel girlfriend, how could she say such mean things to him? But tonight? Tonight he just sighed, and squeezed her tight.

“Wanna help me set ‘em up outside?”

“In a minute,” her voice was muffled from where her face was pressed in his hair. “I’m comfy here.”

He chuckled, careful not to jostle her too much. “Dork.”

[drspacepoodle]

Happy anniversary to my favorite couple in the entire world.

Meeting both of them was so crazy and a truly life changing moment which I’m so greatfull for.

[ratfink-kryptonite]

My OTP! I love them so much! ❤️