FINALLY got around to watching season 3 and. Oh my God. The Maki episode. Oh my God. Season 3 episode 4 you are everything to me. I cried. I had to go on a walk after it. I had to process for so long.
THIS EPISODEEEE???? It was so beautifully executed the lost of Mai was so profoundly felt the whole time even after it had passed, like the hole in Maki's heart that she had left. The whole Kill Bill references scene, the music playing being almost cheerful while she massacred them all (huge fan of the music showing someone's mental state, this sort of cheery childlike tune as she's fulfilling her childhood dreams.
The blood splatters being the only visible colour, and them being pink instead of red, the "feminine" colour is the prominent one in the remains of the most horrifically misogynistic clan. The constant flashes of the birds, her loss. I'm ill to my stomach I'm SICK TO MY STOMACH
Nevermind the incredible satisfaction that comes with watching Naoya get beat up in multiple actions in slow motion. And then also stabbed in the back <3 just like his own little self-fulfilling prophecy <3
Suguru from @rikushka's and my AU but I suppose it's applicable either way? The hand over his head is Satoru's, the one over his mouth is Sukuna's. Each restrains a different part of him, leaving his ears and eyes open, an observer
The flora had forgotten its roots. It crept in the sparse sunlight, mirroring fantastical colours it should have never known, decorating a porcelain shroud in its solitude. The divine had wrought desolation then lay in its ruins, but it mourned that it had forgotten love. Souls ripped from their now rotting shells could not comfort that which was hollow.
A crowning jewel of delicate blue lay in Viktor's aged hand, inscribed with a rune whispering promises of calamity and creation. Its surface gleamed with a glow that did not belong, then reflected the smile of one who had forsaken breath in favour of fate. Behind it lay a terrified boy's form, drowning in the callousness of nature, little boy, don't you know you cannot run?
A lonely god atop the mountain, whose tears could not fall. Would his sorrow not grip his hand in return? Why had he frozen it, too?
in all possibilities,
The wretched trenches of home loomed below, a precarious step away, prepared to cradle his body when it fell, to bury it in the kindest soil it knew. Viktor peered down into that inviting embrace and let his foot dangle, just once, just once he would fly, for he would have wings of starless dreams for every moment before his form struck the ground, and really, what did that matter? Death would numb it all, and what kinder colour to paint his carrion than Icarian?
"Am I interrupting?"
Three fateful words from lips that begun to turn to guilt and grief tugged back against the noose, untangling, to comfort torn feathers and sunken cheeks. Where Viktor had once sewn Jayce's wounds with threads of starlight, Jayce now wrapped Viktor's in plain gauze, in unspoken plea, please, partner, would you not go where I cannot follow?
A mortal cradled in warmth of company whose smiles could not hold. Would his joy not burn him in return? Why did it save him, too?
only you,
Flesh that did not feel was no longer human. Mocking some daemon of old, it enveloped fragile bones and scorched their emotion, watching their ashes scatter in a perfect pool of chaos, where fauna could only wrench apart into ichor and blood. The arcane, arcane, all that lay about Viktor was the Arcane. Arcane, clandestine, understood by sparse few and oft by none, a force man was not forged to reckon with, let alone have live in their bloodstream.
"The Herald."
"The Machine."
"Viktor."
Viktor's long corrupt hands reached desperately for the shattered fragments of that voice, you, you, will you not pull me from the sea's unyielding clutches as you once did? What remained of Jayce in a Promethean hellfire whispered to him still, as though sin did not bleed from his heart.
can show me this.
The vastness of night knew to be bejewelled only by the grace of stars, crystals of ecstasy not yet laughed and woes not yet wept. In every fleck of celestial dust there hid a life, begging to be strung together from intertwining red strings, afloat in the forgotten void.
Herald of the stars, how is it to rest amongst them, knowing you are no longer of them?
"I thought it would be lonely," You whispered, then glanced towards the one who invited you into merciful nothingness. The snow-ridden boy, grown, arm lustrated in that blue runestone, beckoning you, a golden smile radiating from his features, hazel eyes mirroring amber. You have stripped him of his worldly tomb, and he walks the heavens with you, unafraid, while you fear to tread heavy.
"Come on, Vik. I got you. You'll be okay. We both will. I promise."
Halloween is around the corner so please imagine the little costumes Gojo dressed Megumi and Tsumiki in, and matched with them of course. Two tiny ghost blobs showing up at your doorstep, one cheerily going "trick or treat!", while behind them looms a much taller ghost with black round sunglasses, and you notice the babies have it too, and the one that hasn't spoken yet just grabs the candy when you give it and runs away to hide behind the big ghost
Living somewhere hot is so weird because I go "It may not be sweater season but I'm going to make it sweater season" and outside I'm struggling but I'm managing, then I step inside and it's colder than the Arctic circle because that's how high they're running the ACs
does anyone actually think talking about the weather is bad small talk. i love talking about the weather. i would talk about the weather with my closest friend and im going to talk about it with YOU 🫵
"toxic masculinity: does it also affect men?" sometimes I feel like a certain percentage of human beings somewhere along the line of history lost the biological ability to form sensible thoughts past a certain limit. I really do wonder when this happened. When did they piss it out
