#THIS HURTS SO MUCH

[local-falsettos-obsession]

I don’t know why I do this to myself but I’m rewatching the ending of falsettos and when Marvin starts sobbing as Mendel’s almost done singing, the order the other come to comfort them HURTS me. When Marvin breaks into his hysterical crying, as soon as Charlotte notices she immediately rushes over to him and he starts to kind of stumble towards her too. Cordelia is next, as soon as she sees Charlotte go to Marvin she stops dead in her tracks and Charlotte sorta brings him over to her. Trina is next, she embraces the others while Jason stares at the rest of the family, very obviously distraught. Mendel finishes his last note before he moves to the rest of the group, Jason places chess piece on the grave and everyone brings him into the middle with Marvin. IM SOBBING, it’s going in the order he was closest to (-Jason) the Lesbians first, then Trina, then Mendel ALSO they bring the two people closest to Whizzer (Marvin and Jason) into the middle

[senualothbrok]

I came across these and I am absolutely destroyed. I am no stranger to angst (understatement) but my heart. My heart. This hurts.

Apparently this is what you get if you fail to convince Gale not to seek godhood / you encourage Gale to seek godhood and he subsequently detonates the orb?

"You are perfect. You always were, and you always will be. I wish I had told you that more. I hope the paltry offering of my company was a fair trade for the richness of your love, your strength, your generosity. I treasured them all."

Gale. JFC. My heart. Oh Gale...

[jangmi-latte]

𝐒𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐂𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐆... ʕ calamities always causes disasters. disasters are the mainstream of danger — and danger causes pain. To define such instances, would your apology suffice the grieving guilt that’s eating away your soul despite being granted with the ability to breathe for another day? This is a rhetorical question, and yet if it wasn’t, would you have the answer as you sit in his chambers in silence…? ʔ

𝐒𝐇𝐎𝐖𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐑𝐄𝐒𝐔𝐋𝐓𝐒 𝐅𝐎𝐑: BIRD BEASTMAN!ROOK HUNT X READER

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆: near death experience, angst if you squint, hurt and comfort, emotional breakdowns, overthinking (reader), descriptive mentions of wounds and blood, the concept of being hunted down and chased (outside party), whump.

while the warnings say otherwise, this is pure fluff with no signs of character going against the reader. Gender!neutral reader. rook hunt has wings. rook’s siblings/family are/is mentioned. all description of family affiliations is purely HEADCANON

i can make a part two...

𝐀𝐍𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐀𝐓𝐔𝐒

h-h-hurt and comfort while rook's being overprotective yet injured like the man he is hahwushhahah that unique magic of his does shit to my eyeballs. also because i'm having a breakdown over this half bird theory after the tamashina mina event harharhar (⁠ ⁠ꈨຶ⁠ ⁠˙̫̮⁠ ⁠ꈨຶ⁠ ⁠)

𝐑. 𝐇𝐮𝐧𝐭 ʕ 100% loading...ʔ

The pitter patter of the rain held nothing against the endless ringing of your ears while medics ran in and out of his bedroom. In the heart of a storm, everyone should’ve been within their safe haven — a home, some shelter, a person to seek for. Sunset Savanna was supposed to be a lively country.

The blanket held no warmth, no matter how thick or how it covered your hunched body. It felt too clean; you shouldn’t be this ridded of impurities. Save for the mire and muck that tainted your arms and legs, it still felt so unjustifiable that you were still… unharmed. All you got were cuts (that has already clotted and was patched). Your hair damped of grim and sweat, not like it even bothered you at this point.

It felt like a sin, a curse, to only have this kind of stain. The room felt empty — despite the presence of another male across from you paced back and forth.

It was cold.

Too cold.

 His blond hair held great resemblance to him, his eyes held more of his mother than his father — in comparison to his brother who got their father’s slender eyes. You heard his pacing slow down and felt his eyes settle on you; looking all fragile and scared.

“He’ll be okay,” he said, his voice holding the same comfort and tone like how Rook spoke it to you merely an hour ago. You’ll be okay.

You did not respond. You continued to stare at the leaves — that entered through the window from the restless wind — that danced on the bedroom’s floor.

“y/n…” he called, sitting down beside you.

It hurts, it’s not like you wanted to be this hurt in the first place. It’s not like you wanted him to be hurt at all. It wasn’t either of your faults and yet you truly felt like it was yours to bear. If only you didn’t run through the woods, if only those hunters didn’t see you as a potential prey; let alone they shouldn’t even have seen you. You were an innocent civilian wanting some fresh air before the storm settled in.

He saw you. He used his unique magic on you. He made sure you were still safe. He protected you.

His family was a group of hunters too — he, himself, an adept one but that doesn’t excuse that he wants you to be hunted down. Albeit let it be a simple game between you two, no outside parties allowed. Now where was he? You’ve never heard him so panicked, like he was scared (even though he tries not to be). He wasn’t scared for himself; he was scared for you.

Because, compared to your little game, he could not control your safety.

“…Do you want to see him?” Rook’s older brother — the second oldest — asked.

“Please,” you replied instantly, desperation and distress strangled your words. Looking up at the man before you, you would’ve commented at how similar they both are to one another, to compliment how handsome he was, too. Now was not the time.

He had an arm laid on your back, a hand holding on your other shoulder. His eyes, that used to hold the same exuberance as Rook, only held worry and stress as the weight of being both a brother to his other siblings and a pillar of strength was getting to him.

“I’ll come with you.”

And here you are standing in his bedroom. What used to be a room full of life, smelled of nature, and the occasional scatter of bows and arrows, now held the scent of blood and petrichor, added with the aching smell of antiseptics. Bandages, swabs, cloths, endless of them scattered across the room. It looked like a mess— no, it was a literal mess.

Not the mess you would often see.

Now broken arrows made your heart ache instead of making it race with glee, no teasing laughs, no voice cracks when he spoke so fast as he showed you a good hunt. It was so quiet.

And on the bed, Rook laid quietly with his wings spread out. If it wasn’t for the bandages on one wing, you would’ve run and snuggled on those thick and white feathers.

White feathers…

They were red and taut now. It made you wince as you remember. You remembered so vividly.

Those wings—those beautiful white wings—

“I can’t guarantee that he’ll be able to fly. At least for a while.”

Your eyes burned, your nose was itchy, your skin crawled. It’s like pins and needles butchered your scalp down to your palms. You didn’t even know the head medic was there.

“Otherwise, no vital organs were hit. Most of the damage were on his wings.”

“How severe was the damage?” asked his brother.

Five. It was five arrows that hit his wing. And two of those hit a membrane.

It was repeating again — the rapid beating of your heart that echoed repeatedly through your ears when he saw you, the relief in his eyes, when he welcomed you in his arms. The grip he had on your body when he released his wings that he valued so much.

“You’ll be okay. I’m here. I see you.”

The solace when he took to the skies in one big swing, battling with the strong wind as the rain was starting to fall, until one arrow shot straight to his wing. It pierced so deeply that it stabbed through the other side, immediately painting his feathers red and for him to yell in pain. A yell you never, not once in your life, imagined would come from him.

And to the Great Seven you beg to never hear again.

The rest became a blur, when he began to lose control, when he swerved and held you tightly, and when it hit that membrane around his inner wing did, he toss you away when you both crashed to the ground. The rain already soiling you both in mud and water as you crawled towards him. Deaf from your heartbeat, the rain, and the yells of hunters from the distance.

The impenetrable darkness that blurred your eyes — whether it was rainwater or your tears, you didn’t know. You counted the five arrows that ruined his wing, you don’t know how to remove them and logically he will not be able to fly.

His blood was being washed away by the rain when you hulled him to a nearby cave.

“Rook,” you sobbed. He was heaving and gritting his teeth, despising his current state of vulnerability at the moment.

“I’ll...be fine…” he groaned.

Only then did you realize that you were close to the Elephant Graveyard and was found by a search and rescue team.

You shivered when you closed your eyes to rid of the image of his blood caked wings. He’s safe now, sleeping in front of you; but it didn’t settle your heart.

“Thank you,” you heard his brother speak behind you while you slowly approached Rook. They removed his shirt and laid him on his stomach so his left wing was tucked while the right was stretched out, the whole thing was bandaged yet soaked. Upon closer inspection, you saw the damage those arrows did.

Your eyes stung as you laid a gentle yet shaking hand on the sensitive wing, feeling his heart beating steadily through the bandages and the warmth it emitted to your hand.

“Rook…” you whispered, inhaling quaveringly.

“I’m sorry.”

A sob made its way up your throat as you sat down next to him. He didn’t wake up this time, not when he was utterly exhausted from both the pain and the energy he had to exert while flying and to keep himself from fainting.

His brother watched you in pity, feeling guilty that he wasn’t able to save his brother in time either. He knows he’ll be okay, but as a wing-bearer himself, it would nonetheless be traumatic to lose the only thing that kept his whole identity.

It is a part of him, his family, and his strength. He prayed that he truly will be able to fly again.

“Rook.” You combed your fingers through his hair and cupped his cheek, watching his parted lips take in even amounts of air. Your tears soaking the sheets and sniffling as you placed your lips on the side of his head.

“Great Seven please let him fly again,” you prayed against his head. Not a rustle on his other wing either. He was out cold.

You believed it was really your fault. If you hadn’t gone that deep into the forest, if you didn’t argue with those hunters, he would’ve been safe. You should’ve taken the damage, not him. He was innocent. Now the consequence was too much to stomach.

“We’ll…” inhaled his brother, “We’ll find a way to help him fly again.”

“I’ll help.” You didn’t move from your position, “I…I’ll look for a medic somewhere o-or a wing therapist— anything…” you wept.

For it will break you too if you saw him sitting on the porch while his siblings flew without a care in a world. Even if those lips of his smiled at the freedom his siblings have, deep down those skies are his home as well. If he wouldn’t be able to touch the clouds again, losing a part of him that’s part beast man is like skinning an animal alive.

The hunter was hunted.

© 𝐣𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐦𝐢-𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐭𝐞 2021.

[thesecretofronance]

what the fuck what the fuck no it can’t be true WHAT THE FUCK STAR WARS HOW COULD YOU CANCEL IT

[thorias]

The more I think about that funeral scene, the angrier I get. Is it just me or did none of the X-men aside from Jubilee even seem that upset? Compare their non-reactions over Gambit being gone to how they reacted to Morph's "death" in XTAS. They were way more broken up about Morph, who was basically a character created for the show just so to be killed off to raise the stakes (even though that was undone later). But Gambit's been a super popular character for decades and one of the breakout characters of this franchise, and yet their reactions to him being gone are totally muted, if they even react at all... and most of them don't! Hell, Storm didn't even show up, even though she must have learned what happened by now (maybe Bastion got to her offscreen or something?)!

And this is even more infuriating when you think about how Gambit was treated by the others in the front half of the season. Cyclops was annoyed with him, Magneto undermined him, Morph and Wolverine didn't seem to respect him. And now none of them have anything to say as his funeral? If it were my funeral, I would hope that my supposed closest friends would have something to say about me, or literally ANYTHING at all.

FFS, they even buried him in New Orleans, the place they knew he never wanted to come back to! WTF!

Then there's the eulogy. It was very nice, but odd coming from Kurt, who knew Remy for 5 minutes. And it also missed the point, mistaking Remy's low self-esteem and self-loathing for modesty, which it never was.

I mean, not spending much time on the grieving process makes sense if Gambit isn't intended to be gone for very long, but it still sucks. Rogue and Jubilee were the only ones who seemed upset at all, and Rogue couldn't bring herself to attend the funeral either!

I'd like to think that this was all by design and will be twisted into a dark resentment fueling Gambit when he's brought back as Deathbit or something like that, but it's hard to watch this scene and not think that the X-men didn't seem to give much of a shit about him, and that's just so sad and frustrating.

[narryskittens]

Nialler 💔

[shikai-the-storyteller]

[moodysnowflake]

He looked so happy.

[silkclove]

baby arda consoling his teammates and staff 🥺❤️

[trennoandgreggo]

these broke me 💔

[xinesthetic]

The fact that Dazai gets shot by both his ex (Chuuya) and current (Kunikida) work partners is not a parallel i ever wanted to see

[agni-ashes]

rewatching third life. martyn’s pov to be exact. GOD I FORGOT HOW MUCH THIS HURTS. IM LITERALLY IN TEARSSSS

the red king and his hand… someone knock me out now please i can’t handle this (…pun unintended)

[jbarneswilson]

NOT YOU, MAGGIE. NOT TODAY. I CANNOT EVEN.

[kimtaegis]

I am going to be sick I’m so sorry jimin

[hilsonamore]

Listening to “Casual” by chappell roan, reading comfort hilson fics where house is hurting and vulnerable and wilson is desperately trying to make him feel better while ALSO being on your period and hungry is NOT a good idea, do NOT try this at home, because it will HURT like SHIT (proceeds to doing exactly that anyways)

[chaosandwolves]

It'll break Jaskier a hundred ways should Radovid turn cruel or should he be pushed to be so

Jaskier will doubt himself so much, will doubt what they had

He won't know that Radovid was about to run to him

Oh gods 😭😭😭

And sweet gentle Radovid will break, too

He's caged now and forced to be someone he doesn't want to be, someone who he isn't

He was ready to give it all up, to run to Jaskier and he won't know

😭😭😭