an approximation of my brain

There was a beautiful duality in the play. Murzat died in hope that later generations would carry on his struggle, and Thjazi died in faith that his brother would carry through his plan, and that hope and that faith were rewarded. One hopes that Thjazi, wherever he has hidden his soul, knows that.

i need 'this mothafuckah never got a flashback' as a soundbite immediately please and thank you

The faint outline of wings as Wick holds his little brother's hand, the inherent sadness of seeing himself and his now lost faith reflected back at him, a carbon copy of the innocence he once held only weeks before, a reminder that one day his brother's world will be torn away from him, too, what if I explode

what if you took the ancient artifact of great importance to me personally and i gave it over to you willingly, and then you led me into the dark forest that bloomed to life around us and we were both elves?? jk jk,.......... unless?? 🥺👉👈

otto einfasen, to primus tachonis: you are not the house of death. you are the house of the dead. and your aesthetic enthusiasm for dead things does not make you the most dangerous man in this room.