#coldembrace

[techtrendytreks48blog]

[jadynwaymire1997blog]

[deviilsflower]

@coldembrace said: she should have been in ragnarok. maybe then hela would have stopped and just held her all "aww it's okay babe"

“PLEASE DON’T BREAK THOR’S HAMMER, HIS EYE, AND ALL OF ASGARD.” 

[ircnego---a]

coldembrace replied to your post: @coldembrace  I DONT KNOW HOW THIS HAPPEN BUT HELA...

Tony=Hela’s guilty pleasure

Tony should be scared. but you know what he’s just turn on more from this god than the other two.

sorry Thor and Loki. 

[klyntarvenom-old]

how long had it been since they met anyone from another planet? years ago - maybe, back before they were OUTCASTED from their own race. before they went FERAL ( maybe ), but now? all they had was EDDIE. their host - the one who gave them HISTORY and anger. their host was all that they WERE and in the same roll of fate their HOST was them ( that was simply how it was ). 

still, their head TILTED at the other; they had power. that much the klyntar could tell with out much effort. that much THEY personally knew with out having to guess. they could FEEL it. “who... are... you?”

// @coldembrace

[verseandvisionchronicles]

Shadows of Solitude: A Dance with Fear in the Cold Embrace of Night

In the hushed depths of the night, where shadows pirouette in sync with elusive echoes of silence, a profound and haunting fear dwells. It's the dread of succumbing to slumber within the darkness, where the frigid tendrils of isolation cocoon the delicate threads of consciousness. In this realm of obsidian, the absence of warmth becomes an ally to the chilling solitude permeating the essence of existence.

The darkness, an abstract canvas daubed with the ink of the unknown, stretches boundlessly into the recesses of the mind. A void that murmurs secrets untold, whispers reverberating through the corridors of a restless soul. As night descends, it transforms into an inky ocean, vast and impenetrable, solace found solely in the company of one's own thoughts.

Within the icy clasp of solitude, the mind assumes the role of a reluctant voyager, navigating the expansive uncertainties. Every stride into the abyss is met with a shiver, an acknowledgment of the chilling reality—no one to share the journey, no witness to the silent unraveling of the self.

Coldness transcends physicality, becoming a spectral presence weaving into the fabric of emotions. The icy touch of loneliness, a tangible reminder of the widening void with each fleeting moment. The fear of utter aloneness, bereft of companionship, manifests as frost settling upon the heart, numbing its beats beneath the weight of isolation.

As night advances, darkness deepens, and coldness heightens, a yearning emerges—a desperate crave for a warm hand to grasp, for a comforting presence amid vast emptiness. Yet, the abyss persists, and the fear endures, casting a lingering shadow over dreams unfolding in the fragile sanctuary of sleep.

Thus, in the intangible weave of darkness and coldness, the apprehension of drifting into slumber finds its origin—an elusive unease surpassing the tangible, delving into the complexities of the human soul. It lingers, casting a subtle pallor over waking hours, a silent plea in the quiet of the night—a heart beating in solitude, yearning for a dawn promising the warmth of connection in the vast enigma of the unknown.

[cupofdzhersky-blog]

Remarkable day is today. Whether to drink tea or whether to hang oneself.

Anton Chekhov

[ircnego---a]

@coldembrace

We see a goddess.