Unnecessary Ligatures

When æ just isn't enough

Posts tagged omg

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hellyeahscarleteen:

Sometimes people have a hard time understanding what a happy relationship between two people who obvs think the other is awesome looks like.

We think this is one great (and holy bananas, so freaking hilarious) example.

(via tin-can)

Filed under omg babies!

1,028 notes

pangeasplits: monstrousreg: thursdaynext27: motleypatches: codenamecesare: pangeasplits: miagirly: indyhead: Bryan Singer’s most recent twitter set photo. Clearly it’s the 70s. OMG I don’t know how to react to this. groovy, literally I don’t know what my emotions are doing! But I am really liking the spread legs. helens78: ;alskdjf THAT IS SUCH AN UGLY SHIRT I LOVE THIS MOVIE SO MUCH I LOVE IT ALREADY helens78: every Erik in the brain: *demands a kneeling platform by the footrests* CHARLES XAVIER SPRAWLING IN HIS THRONE Dare we hope for a touch of angry dark Charles? PLEASE. I want dark, angry, pissed off Charles. Erik’s throat is dry. Something is stuck there, pressing down on his windpipe so that he can barely struggle for air. It might be a scream or it might be a sob. It’s certainly the urge to collapse to his knees and beg for forgiveness, and the only thing that keeps him swaying in his feet, knees locked, is the way Charles is looking at him.  It looks like an utterance of forgiveness is the last thing that might fall from Charles’ lips.  Erik hasn’t seen Charles in almost four years and it’s possible affection and an unhealthy amount of melancholy have somewhat mutated his memories of him. Erik understand memory is a whimsical thing, subject to emotions and revisions.  Rosy memories or not, though, he’s quite certain that icy, coldly furious look wasn’t in Charles’ startlingly blue eyes the last time he saw him.  He stares at the ragged lock of dark hair at the side of Charles’ stubbled, too-thin face and struggles to swallow. For all the weight he’s lost, for the looks of his puzzling shaggy hair and the red beard on his jaw, Charles still looks painfully beautiful. Erik fights not to let his eyes dip down to the careless sprawl of Charles’ thighs, to his demanding, strong position in the chair.  The chair. Erik knew Charles had lost his legs because he’s been keeping an obsessive watch fro Charles Xavier that he is not willing or ready to admit to anyone, let alone himself, but he’s never seen it before. He’s never actually stood in front of the physical evidence, like a blow to is chest.  Charles is in a wheelchair and he put him there.  “Charles—” “Erik,” Charles murmurs coldly. “I suppose I ought to have expected you would be here. Not one to miss an opportunity for recruitment, surely.”  Erik spares a glance at the boy cowering behind Alex’ tense, angry figure. Alex is practically vibrating with hostility. He’s waiting for Charles to let him tear into Erik. Erik honestly doesn’t know if Charles will nod or shake his head. He wonders. It’s like a cold,blade in his heart—the uncertainty.  “I—you look,” Erik starts, and scrambles for something to say that won’t be offensive and hurtful. “Shorter?” suggests Charles, arching a brow, nothing like his impish youthfulness of old.  Erik nearly chokes.  “Professor,” Alex says tightly.  “I should like you to go now, Erik,” Charles says quietly, eyes like cold, cold steel. “We’ve no need of you, as you can see, and your presence is not welcomed.”  Something must show in Erik’s face—the shock, the hurt, maybe the bitterness of knowing forgiveness is no longer a possibility. the golden, distant star he thought hung in the sky in front of the prow of this ship he sails, splattered in blood and hate.  Something must show in his face because Charles looks at him, blank and cold, and his full, once mobile lips take a downwards turn before curling derisively up.  ‘Ah,” he says, eyes half-lidded. “Well, Erik. You’re the one that called me naive. I suppose I should thank you for curing me of that little—flaw. So. yes. Thank you, Erik. You certainly left a mark.” #i’d be angry if i had to wear that shirt.

pangeasplits:

monstrousreg:

thursdaynext27:

motleypatches:

codenamecesare:

pangeasplits:

miagirly:

indyhead:

Bryan Singer’s most recent twitter set photo. Clearly it’s the 70s.

OMG I don’t know how to react to this.

groovy, literally

I don’t know what my emotions are doing!

But I am really liking the spread legs.

helens78: ;alskdjf THAT IS SUCH AN UGLY SHIRT I LOVE THIS MOVIE SO MUCH I LOVE IT ALREADY

helens78: every Erik in the brain: *demands a kneeling platform by the footrests*

CHARLES XAVIER SPRAWLING IN HIS THRONE

Dare we hope for a touch of angry dark Charles? PLEASE.

I want dark, angry, pissed off Charles.

Erik’s throat is dry. Something is stuck there, pressing down on his windpipe so that he can barely struggle for air. It might be a scream or it might be a sob. It’s certainly the urge to collapse to his knees and beg for forgiveness, and the only thing that keeps him swaying in his feet, knees locked, is the way Charles is looking at him. 

It looks like an utterance of forgiveness is the last thing that might fall from Charles’ lips. 

Erik hasn’t seen Charles in almost four years and it’s possible affection and an unhealthy amount of melancholy have somewhat mutated his memories of him. Erik understand memory is a whimsical thing, subject to emotions and revisions. 

Rosy memories or not, though, he’s quite certain that icy, coldly furious look wasn’t in Charles’ startlingly blue eyes the last time he saw him. 

He stares at the ragged lock of dark hair at the side of Charles’ stubbled, too-thin face and struggles to swallow. For all the weight he’s lost, for the looks of his puzzling shaggy hair and the red beard on his jaw, Charles still looks painfully beautiful. Erik fights not to let his eyes dip down to the careless sprawl of Charles’ thighs, to his demanding, strong position in the chair. 

The chair.

Erik knew Charles had lost his legs because he’s been keeping an obsessive watch fro Charles Xavier that he is not willing or ready to admit to anyone, let alone himself, but he’s never seen it before. He’s never actually stood in front of the physical evidence, like a blow to is chest. 

Charles is in a wheelchair and he put him there. 

“Charles—”

“Erik,” Charles murmurs coldly. “I suppose I ought to have expected you would be here. Not one to miss an opportunity for recruitment, surely.” 

Erik spares a glance at the boy cowering behind Alex’ tense, angry figure. Alex is practically vibrating with hostility. He’s waiting for Charles to let him tear into Erik. Erik honestly doesn’t know if Charles will nod or shake his head. He wonders. It’s like a cold,blade in his heart—the uncertainty. 

“I—you look,” Erik starts, and scrambles for something to say that won’t be offensive and hurtful.

“Shorter?” suggests Charles, arching a brow, nothing like his impish youthfulness of old. 

Erik nearly chokes. 

“Professor,” Alex says tightly. 

“I should like you to go now, Erik,” Charles says quietly, eyes like cold, cold steel. “We’ve no need of you, as you can see, and your presence is not welcomed.” 

Something must show in Erik’s face—the shock, the hurt, maybe the bitterness of knowing forgiveness is no longer a possibility. the golden, distant star he thought hung in the sky in front of the prow of this ship he sails, splattered in blood and hate. 

Something must show in his face because Charles looks at him, blank and cold, and his full, once mobile lips take a downwards turn before curling derisively up. 

‘Ah,” he says, eyes half-lidded. “Well, Erik. You’re the one that called me naive. I suppose I should thank you for curing me of that little—flaw. So. yes. Thank you, Erik. You certainly left a mark.”

#i’d be angry if i had to wear that shirt.

Filed under omg only thing im going to reblog about this okay x-men: days of future past xmdofp x-men: days of future past spoilers xmdofp spoilers