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Jules of Nature
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Misplaced Lens Cap
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Stranger Things
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ojovivo
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we're not kids anymore.
Today's Document
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@delionsstuff
Omg rewatching episode 2 rn and I just realized that Jayce told his mother "If my own family won't support me, then I'll find someone who will" And the very next scene is Viktor reading his notes and taking an interest in his work, ARCANE WRITES WHEN I CATCH YOU
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I also think about Jayce's phrase
"it should have been me, not him"
when he saw Viktor almost dead from explosion. I think we don't talk enough about the fact that he wanted to kill himself (as Victor did, actually) and how little his own life matters to him
The fact that Powder mostly remembers only her mother's scent jusi emphasizes how important Vi was to her. Her only living relative, her blood and her shield, her anchor to the past, where parents were more than smell, was Vi. And then, she got Silko, killed him, and he was left just as a scent on jacket in an old mine.
Only scents in memory, no people with them around. Only Vi, Vander Isha are left, and we will see how it will go for them...
My dear Powder, I do hope they will be a part of your future, not as a scent from the past.
thinking for a hundred hours about Viktor, after all this time, still wearing Jace's blanket, the one he wrapped him in when he saw Viktor was alive. Who's sentimental now?
Actually, the most painful/scariest part of season two for me was Vander's arc in general. There's nothing more painful, terrifying for me than the absence of death and its peace, and the absence of power over your own body - his corpse, distorted by shimmer, was taken, dissected, reshaped into a monster, his consciousness was bent, melted and merged with the consciousness of the beast.
Vander is almost gone - he's at the bottom of a red-hot volcano of bloodthirstiness, the arcane itself can't find him with ease. He sees his daughters, sees their faces, but screams, locked in the cell of beast's mind, because the beast heard the drops of blood falling on the ground, smelled them.
Not being able to save your daughters is one thing. Not being able to save your daughters from yourself, seeing everything, doing everything with your claws and teeth, knowing that you can't stop yourself - it's... oh, Arcane. Why him...
Haven't he given enough? Haven't Vi and Pow given enough?
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When Caitlyn hits her with a gun without a shadow of a doubt, where an old wound ached phantomically, it didn't hurt very much. After all, Vi had always known how to use her fists and endure blows. After all, years in prison had taught her all the ways to grit her teeth and continue to stand on her feet - if you fall, you won't be considered a person, an equal. After all, she had been fighting for her right to life since childhood, used to violence and the taste of blood on her teeth. But the blow from Caitlin was something much worse - because it hurt from within. Vi simply hoped for the first time that she wouldn't have to fight - not with her, not like this, not with the hatred-contempt in her eyes. It hurt because Caitlyn - Cupcake - looked at her as if she were dirt underfoot, as if she were an animal, as if she had disappointed her. And it hurt because Vi didn't expect a blow - not from her.
Not from her.
Not from her.
Feeling thrown out, unnecessary, left to her fate - that's what hurt the most because Cate promised not to change.
Changed, like everything around her.
Gone, like everyone around her.
Hit her, returning memories of the stone cage, pointing to her place - an animal that only understands fists.
Vi was used to blows, really. But blows from the one she hoped to forget about violence - tore her heart. But it was okay, really.
After all, this wasn't the first time.
Вітаю, укртумбочко та український фандом Добрих Передвісників
🤍🥂🖤
У мене є для вас новина, а саме: купка неймовірних українських митців та мисткинь, які обожнюють історію Ніла Геймана та Террі Пратчетта, якось зібрались, намалювали багато надзвичайних ілюстрацій і нарисів по "Добрим Передвісникам" та й зібрали їх під однією обкладинкою.
І тепер ми можемо поділитись нашою працею з вами ✨
✨ ВІДКРИТІ ПЕРЕДЗАМОВЛЕННЯ НА БЛАГОДІЙНИЙ "INEFFABLE ARTBOOK" ✨
Передзамовити можна отут
(Передзамовлення триватимуть по 2.06 включно)
Ineffable Artbook:
А4 формат
Тверда палітурка
64 кольорові розвороти у форматі 1 вертикальна кольорова ілюстрація та сторінка нарисів (не етапів ілюстрації)
Kenshi's brown eyes defied Johnny every day - stubbornness, contempt even, though it slowly washed away with teardrops when Milena pierced his beautiful warm eyes with daggers - he shouted.
Kenshi tossed her away from Johnny without a second thought, saving his neck from the strong female hands which touch Johnny usually loved so much. she put Kenshi on his knees and with indescribable pain erased all thoughts from his head - Kenshi could only scream while blood flooded his nose and throat.
Johnny froze - horror froze in his eyes as well, his body froze as if after a fight with Sub Zero, he also shouted - Kenshi's name. he could not believe what he saw. he could not believe, just couldn't comprehend that Kenshi will never look at him without that damned disdain.
had a need to draw them flustered idk
raiden: do you trust Johnny?
kenshi: nope, not with my life.
raiden:
kenshi:
raiden that's a lie, isn't it?
kenshi: yeah, unfortunately, that is definitely a lie.
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johnny: I need to change my perfume.
kenshi: but why, you already smell really good?
johnny: oh so I smell good to you, kendoll?
kenshi:
kenshi: I shall never speak again.
he's down bad ok
I really like dungeon meshi, so take this bit of propaganda
Red carpet interview: Exactly how many kids do you have, Mr. Cage?
Johnny: Biologically, legally, or like, emotionally? Because those are three very different answers.
kenshi: thank you, doll
kenshi:
johnny:
kenshi: wait
johnny: WHATT DID YOU CALL ME?
kenshi: I I THOUGHT IT WOULD BE AS EMBARRASSING FOR YOU IF I CALL YOU THAT LIKE YOU CALL ME
johnny: you have no idea what you got yourself into
johnny: call me that again.
kenshi: oh fuck
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Water and fire - probably a stupid comparison, Johnny would not call it poetic or original. Well, some film would not be called that. Moreover, this comparison was not accurate - the metaphor is unfinished. He often felt that he himself became water next to Kenshi - he spoke more quietly, listened to his words, nodded in agreement.
Metaphor didn't make sense even more so because Kenshi managed to fire him up, made him move, nervously shrug his shoulders, as if preparing for a jump. He was water at his core, but he burned Johnny's nature with red-hot iron.
Johnny wasn't averse to pain - he wasn't averse to a challenge. Water and fire, he thought obsessively in the evenings, when training with the monks ended with him falling face down on the pillow with his legs losing all feelings, and he didn't have enough strength to move - only to drift on waves of thoughts, waves that reminded him of Kenshi's movements.
He couldn't follow all the thoughts that were entangled with a swordsman in his mind. Moreover, he did not try, he was that tired. That tired, that in the moments of the room's silence and the weary darkness, he allowed himself to think about Kenshi's movements, the tattoos on his palms, and the sure grip on his sword hilt. After all, the darkness wouldn't tell anyone.
Stop supporting terrorists <3 Also ignis
