undoherdamage:

immortals falling for mortals

immortals getting clingy and needy because you have so little time we need to make the most of it

and their lovers being like chill i’ve still got like fifty years and we’ve already spent decades together we’ve been like all around the world by now but rly all I need is you

and just, no, you don’t understand that’s not nearly enough for all the things I want to show you please why are you slowing down I know but you’re tired a lot lately wait no

don’t

go

(via nooby-banana)



By *button-bird.

harry potter meme: five deaths

→ last words

(Source: rosereturns, via groovyphilia)

I cannot express how much I HATE it when authors delete their fic.

unforgott3n:

Hate hate hate hate hate.

I just right now discovered that I can’t read the rest of a fic I was almost done with because apparently the author deleted their entire AO3 account. I just. WHY. :’( The fic was “You and I” by HeroOfTheLostCause, a 10 Things I Hate About You AU with Charles and Erik as Kat and Patrick, Raven and Hank as Bianca and Cameron, and Shaw as Joey. If anyone out there has the rest of it (I’ve read 10 of the 13 chapters) I would so love to have it. (If, on the other hand, anyone wants the first 10 chapters, I can provide.) The fic was incomplete and looked abandoned, but I was really enjoying it anyway. I just. This is so sad. I feel paranoid now. What might disappear next?

mydollyaviana:

Disney scenes where all hope seems lost - requested by anon

(via pragtastic)

linzthenerd:

ineedthesandandthewaves:

This was the most realistic and saddest thing I’ve ever seen in a kids movie.

They didn’t use any words through this sequence, and you still knew exactly what was going on and it was a hundred times more powerful for that silence.

linzthenerd:

ineedthesandandthewaves:

This was the most realistic and saddest thing I’ve ever seen in a kids movie.

They didn’t use any words through this sequence, and you still knew exactly what was going on and it was a hundred times more powerful for that silence.

(via autumnparis)

lightandwinged:

emiggax:

potterheadproblems:

solaceandsolitude:

fyeaowls:

gambitghoul:

buckybird:

The Mirror of Erised: The Single Saddest Object in the history of literature.

Oh god…Fred and George.

I HAD NEVER SEEN THE DUMBLEDORE ONE. WHY. WHY WOULD YOU DO THAT.

This shit. Why.

OH MY GOD THE LAST ONE

AT FIRST I DIDN’T UNDERSTAND AND THEN

“OH”

(via aristo-kitty)


Oh I don’t love youBut I always will I always will

Oh I don’t love you
But I always will
I always will

(Source: saunteredvaguelydownward, via pangeasplits)

loki-s-army-at-221b:

kerfufflery:

inert-rememberer:

puckersons:

#kids movies more like spawn of satan

WHO DID THIS

WHO PUT THEM ALL IN ONE PLACE

DON’T YOU KNOW WHAT KIND OF POWER THEY HAVE TOGETHER

WHY

YEAH SCREW THIS

I’M OUT

*sobs*

(Source: britta-perry, via slushiebear)

motleypatches:

gokuma:

So last night I had that dream about Erik being young again and forgetting about his past. I don’t know exactly what’s happened - was he de-aged and amnesiac or reborn without any knowledge about his previous life. Anyway, all that time Charles was looking for him - and the dream focused on the…

FEELS EVERYWHERE.


experimentalmadness:

XIV. Wind
Max thought he heard his daughter talking in her room, so he was not surprised to open the door and see her sitting on the windowsill. She had dragged the quilt of her bed off and had it draped around and over her head. 
“Anya,” he sighed, “it’s well past your bedtime. You should be—”
“Shh!” Anya put a finger to her lips. “I’m having a connastion.”
“Conversation.”
“Shhh.”
“May I ask with whom?” Max whispered as he crept over to his daughter.
“The monster outside my window.”
“Oh, I see.” Max looked up to see the gnarled branches of a tree knocking against the windowpane in the stormy gale outside and realized that to a child’s eyes it must look like some fearsome creature lurking in the dark. “You don’t seem very frightened.”
Anya shrugged underneath her quilt cloak. “He’s a very polite monster. All he does is knock. Can I let him in, Papa?”
“I don’t think so, ketsela. A storm’s coming, and if I open up that window you’ll probably fly away.”
Anya giggled and buried herself down under the quilts. Max fished her out and carried both her and the covers back to her bed. “But what about my monster?” Anya asked. “Won’t he want to come in from the storm?”
“Nonsense. I know for a fact that monsters love storms.”
“And how would you know, Papa?”
“I know a great deal about monsters.”
He let her slip out of his grasp and fall back upon the bed. He unfurled the quilts and threw them over the bed, purposely letting them fall and cover her whole. He smiled as she laughed and flailed about before her head popped back out amongst the pillows. 
“No more conversations, Anya. It’s time for bed. It’s late. You’ll be a terror in the morning if you don’t sleep.”
“I’ll be a monster!” She roared and gnashed her teeth.
“Well, that would be unfortunate, because then your Mama and I would have to leave you outside during every storm.”
“No!”
“Oh yes, we absolutely would have to. So you had better go to sleep,” Max laughed as he ruffled her hair.
“G’night, Papa,” Anya said, rolling over onto her side at once.
“Good night, ketsela.” 

“I know a great deal about monsters.”
/cries forever

experimentalmadness:

XIV. Wind

Max thought he heard his daughter talking in her room, so he was not surprised to open the door and see her sitting on the windowsill. She had dragged the quilt of her bed off and had it draped around and over her head. 

“Anya,” he sighed, “it’s well past your bedtime. You should be—”

“Shh!” Anya put a finger to her lips. “I’m having a connastion.”

“Conversation.”

“Shhh.”

“May I ask with whom?” Max whispered as he crept over to his daughter.

“The monster outside my window.”

“Oh, I see.” Max looked up to see the gnarled branches of a tree knocking against the windowpane in the stormy gale outside and realized that to a child’s eyes it must look like some fearsome creature lurking in the dark. “You don’t seem very frightened.”

Anya shrugged underneath her quilt cloak. “He’s a very polite monster. All he does is knock. Can I let him in, Papa?”

“I don’t think so, ketsela. A storm’s coming, and if I open up that window you’ll probably fly away.”

Anya giggled and buried herself down under the quilts. Max fished her out and carried both her and the covers back to her bed. “But what about my monster?” Anya asked. “Won’t he want to come in from the storm?”

“Nonsense. I know for a fact that monsters love storms.”

“And how would you know, Papa?”

“I know a great deal about monsters.”

He let her slip out of his grasp and fall back upon the bed. He unfurled the quilts and threw them over the bed, purposely letting them fall and cover her whole. He smiled as she laughed and flailed about before her head popped back out amongst the pillows. 

“No more conversations, Anya. It’s time for bed. It’s late. You’ll be a terror in the morning if you don’t sleep.”

“I’ll be a monster!” She roared and gnashed her teeth.

“Well, that would be unfortunate, because then your Mama and I would have to leave you outside during every storm.”

“No!”

“Oh yes, we absolutely would have to. So you had better go to sleep,” Max laughed as he ruffled her hair.

“G’night, Papa,” Anya said, rolling over onto her side at once.

“Good night, ketsela.” 

“I know a great deal about monsters.”

/cries forever

(Source: kimlennox, via pangeasplits)

experimentalmadness:

XIII. Denial
Max had been digging for most of the night. The rough handle of the shovel had left blisters in his hand, and his blood dripped down the wooden handle to mix in the soil beneath. He gritted is teeth and did not think on it. His daughter lay bundled in a stolen sheet beside him as he stood in her shallow grave.
He could barely see through tears, and it was a wonder he even had the strength to raise the shovel. He was covered in blood, dirt, sweat and soot. There had been no need to run from Vinnytsia. No one would be coming after them. There was no one to give chase. Still, he had waited until he had cleared the limits of the small city before he stopped running.
Max set the shovel down and reached for his daughter, bringing her down into the grave. He rocked her in his arms, the way he used to do when she could not sleep.
And that was all this was really. She was merely asleep. All that there was left to do was to lay her down. But Max found he couldn’t let go of her. As he tried to lay her down he sunk slowly deeper into the grave until he was hunched over on his knees, sobbing against the cloth covering Anya’s body. Words and broken bits of melody stuttered from his lips. It was an old lullaby Magda would sign to their baby. He was probably mangling it, but Anya wouldn’t sleep without it. And he wasn’t certain if he believed in a life after death, but he would be damned if his daughter woke with nightmares in it. The song felt too short. Max wracked his brain to think of more lyrics, something to buy him more time with his daughter. It felt like someone else finally placed Anya down and climbed out of the grave.
Max found he couldn’t quite pick up the shovel again, his hands were trembling so badly it was beyond him to control it. He wanted to turn away as he picked up handfuls of dirt and buried his daughter himself, but he forced himself to watch. He watched as each grain of earth covered her until his child was lost from sight. And then he set to work on a grave marker.
Once it was done. Once it was set, Max set very still beside the fresh grave. But it didn’t feel right anymore. Max felt buried down. He felt himself looking up and losing focus. Max had gone into the grave, another man had climbed out. Another man would have had to, because Max knew he could never walk away from this, but this man was slowly rising onto unfamiliar legs and leaving the makeshift cemetery. Leaving his daughter. Something, Max would never have done.
Whoever this man was now did not feel like anything human Max had ever known. And he was strangely at peace with this new feeling. He had seen exactly what a human truly was, and he realized that he must never have been one. And this new…power, it would set him apart. That was better to live with.
And this new being would have to live.
Because Max Eisenhardt had died with his daughter that night.

Oh.
Oh.
Good thing I wasn’t, like, using that heart for anything.
I think this just became headcanon.

experimentalmadness:

XIII. Denial

Max had been digging for most of the night. The rough handle of the shovel had left blisters in his hand, and his blood dripped down the wooden handle to mix in the soil beneath. He gritted is teeth and did not think on it. His daughter lay bundled in a stolen sheet beside him as he stood in her shallow grave.

He could barely see through tears, and it was a wonder he even had the strength to raise the shovel. He was covered in blood, dirt, sweat and soot. There had been no need to run from Vinnytsia. No one would be coming after them. There was no one to give chase. Still, he had waited until he had cleared the limits of the small city before he stopped running.

Max set the shovel down and reached for his daughter, bringing her down into the grave. He rocked her in his arms, the way he used to do when she could not sleep.

And that was all this was really. She was merely asleep. All that there was left to do was to lay her down. But Max found he couldn’t let go of her. As he tried to lay her down he sunk slowly deeper into the grave until he was hunched over on his knees, sobbing against the cloth covering Anya’s body. Words and broken bits of melody stuttered from his lips. It was an old lullaby Magda would sign to their baby. He was probably mangling it, but Anya wouldn’t sleep without it. And he wasn’t certain if he believed in a life after death, but he would be damned if his daughter woke with nightmares in it. The song felt too short. Max wracked his brain to think of more lyrics, something to buy him more time with his daughter. It felt like someone else finally placed Anya down and climbed out of the grave.

Max found he couldn’t quite pick up the shovel again, his hands were trembling so badly it was beyond him to control it. He wanted to turn away as he picked up handfuls of dirt and buried his daughter himself, but he forced himself to watch. He watched as each grain of earth covered her until his child was lost from sight. And then he set to work on a grave marker.

Once it was done. Once it was set, Max set very still beside the fresh grave. But it didn’t feel right anymore. Max felt buried down. He felt himself looking up and losing focus. Max had gone into the grave, another man had climbed out. Another man would have had to, because Max knew he could never walk away from this, but this man was slowly rising onto unfamiliar legs and leaving the makeshift cemetery. Leaving his daughter. Something, Max would never have done.

Whoever this man was now did not feel like anything human Max had ever known. And he was strangely at peace with this new feeling. He had seen exactly what a human truly was, and he realized that he must never have been one. And this new…power, it would set him apart. That was better to live with.

And this new being would have to live.

Because Max Eisenhardt had died with his daughter that night.

Oh.

Oh.

Good thing I wasn’t, like, using that heart for anything.

I think this just became headcanon.

amarriageoftrueminds:

turtletotem:

amarriageoftrueminds:

See this is weird for me because every time I see Madmen now I think ‘oh, Hamm totally could play young!Erik’s dad’ and ‘oh, that could’ve been Sharon Xavier if she was a bit more awesome.

Plot twist: Charles and Erik are half-brothers!

Or, The Angstier Option: Charles and Erik would never have existed at all if he hadn’t already been married and she hadn’t just got engaged to the fabulously-wealthy total sweetheart Brian Xavier. She had to leave work [and Mr Lehnsherr - Jakob] because she was pregnant with Charles, and by the time she came back to Manhattan, now married, Jakob had already left for a job-offer in Europe — which he took because he didn’t want to ruin her chance at a perfect life. But later on Brian was killed, anyway, and so Sharon remarried his colleague, Kurt Marko — who was brooding and powerful and reminded her a bit of Mr Lehnsherr. By the time Sharon, now deeply unhappy with her second marriage, had tracked down Jakob’s whereabouts, it was already too late. He had died — with his wife, in Auschwitz — still thinking Sharon Xavier picked the better man…

(Source: madmenamcgifs)