#with glorious purpose he is burdened

[missfay49]

he just BECOMES as yggdrasil? he just, you don't understand, he just becomes the tree? the core of time itself? he just wields the power of literal gods and transforms the flow of all timelines into a tree, using the timelines themselves as the fibers and pathways to create a self-supporting structure that he feeds his own power through like life-support? for all of eternity? to keep everyone and everything in existence EXISTING??? he just takes the form of the thing he has grown up knowing about, yggdrasil, for his whole life, dreaming of conquering all sentient life forms on all the trees branches, and instead of conquering it, he creates and powers and guides the very flow of time itself that those people will freely live upon? the symbolism. i'm dying, the symbolism. yall. yalllll.

[psychicpinenut]

loki finally getting his glorious purpose and his throne and his crown but not the way he wanted it. god, not even remotely the way he wanted it. and he would give it up in a heartbeat if he could.

[ivymala]

Hi hello that Loki ending had me feeling so emotionally devastated I don’t know what to do anymore

[beejsdevilishsoulmate]

I couldn't help myself...

I've become one of those cat ladies who buys clothes for her fur baby 🤣🤣🤦🏻‍♀️

The hoodie say Mama's Boy...

But seriously how adorable does Loki look with his little bow tie?!

[annoyingboing]

the way we’re all sad as fuck about the finale but we all know it was the only Right way to end it just makes it even sadder

[rellasnowheenim]

i just finished loki S02E06. i want to fucking cry but I'm still stuck at work 😭😭😭😭

[farfartothewestofeverywhere]

well that just left me feeling heartbroken....

[iorast]

// fixing tags pls hold

[clintgotintheventsagain]

@vidduality

I am Loki of Asgard, and I am burdened with glorious purpose. LOKI — 02x06 “Glorious Purpose”

[jdopes-recorder]

I CANNOT EXPRESS THE UTTER TALENT THOSE WRITERS HAVE

THIS IS OFFICIALLY MY FAVORITE SERIES EVER

THE ENDING

THE EFFECTS

THE VISUALS

I'M CRYING

[bndnmgnrtr]

He was burdened with glorious purpose

[vampiristar]

Viktor knew all along he was about to die in episode 6 because that’s what he needed to become the perfect being.

Let me explain:

In the beginning of the episode, Sky informed us that Viktor himself said « all systems have limits. ». Later, we have Singed who told Viktor is getting weaker: he cannot save everyone and he needed to survive. Viktor knew it already, he knew his arcane/hextech evolution is not perfect yet.

But strangely, Viktor answered to both of them that Vander deserved the risk.

Vander was an exceptional human and leader for Zaun. Even with his transformation, a part of him remained intact, thanks to the beautiful connections and memories he had with his loved ones—Jinx, Vi, Silco, Vi and Jinx’s parents.

Viktor was so touched by Vander’s beautiful soul that he wanted to give emotions and humanity a chance again.

Viktor genuinely wanted to save Vander and he became so absorbed in this goal that he forgot about Jayce’s arrival, which explains why none of the people in his sect tried to stop Jayce.

When he had seen Jayce, Viktor was not surprised. He knew what was coming because he told him himself to visit him in the beginning of the episode.

Even though he couldn’t save Vander as he had hoped, Viktor didn’t lose. Because with Jayce killing him, Viktor realised the true purpose of everything he had set into motion.

Viktor had his confirmation: losing his power and his death was the true limits in his arcane/hextech form. He couldn’t reach for more again with it and have a real impact on human life. He also solidified his belief while witnessing raw, unfiltered human emotions in each persons in the camp—grief, anger, despair, and love:

Emotions were a burden, chaining humans to their suffering and flaws.

So, yes. Viktor allowed Jayce to kill him, knowing that his “death” would pave the way for his ultimate rebirth—a new, perfected form of existence, free of the flaws he had come to realise. This was never his defeat; it was his final step toward his final glorious evolution.

[antics-of-a-spiteful-stickbug]

I always knew I was destined to be killed off to act as character development for the actual main character

Thank you for tagging me, @sp1n-dle! ^-^ This picrew was surprisingly complex! I actually managed to make myself pretty accurately for once bahahaha

Tagging some people off the top of my head, I have no energy to actually check my moot list TTvTT

@thesrchprty @so-called-yokai @sinestrosmind @thescribblings @tdillustrates

No pressure to participate!! ^-^🧡

Saw this going around twitter, looked like fun. What? I'm not procrastinating (I am, I really am)

Make this picrew of yourself

Take this uquiz

Post the results side-by-side. No pressure tags: @alypink, @revnah1406, @madefordvarka, @deadbranch, @welldonekhushi, @kaitaiga, @applbottmjeens, @froglights-and-pearls

[blood-teeth]

E N T E R T H E L A B Y R I N T H

In the Labyrinth, they talk of gods.

They whisper between their fingers and sweeten their breath with the tales of titans of old who once stood so tall that a single breath would cause earth-tremors, their steps reshaping the ground trod beneath them. Their fingers were the tools that smoothed the mountains into points, shaped and carved the ridges and valleys in between. If you hike far enough, one woman claims, if you travel to a point where the oxygen is thin and your vision blacks, you can make out a partial print against the mountainside. You can run your own fingers along its length and still feel the titan’s warmth as if his palm were pressed right against yours.

The woman says, It is a thing of worship. It is a thing of devotion.

In the Labyrinth, they ask you to make your body anew before the King of the High Hills. They say that you are alive because you must suffer for the life and love of the Lord, that you must open your body and let him lick along your flesh so that he may taste the endlessness of his perpetual reign.

In the Labyrinth, there is no escape from his touch.

“You have a heavy burden upon you,” the headmaster was saying, teeth and eyes all a glitter under the amber cast candles. “I am not unsympathetic to the arduous path ahead of you—but please understand that this suffering must be experienced for the longevity of the king, for the beautiful life ahead of him. Only he is the one who can shed mortality and raise to the gods, because he is the only one strong enough, courageous enough, to count the cost of living forever. You must succeed where others have failed. You, this class, this is our last chance to mend what has been made broken. You must. You must.”

The Mouths of Elysium is a dark-academia fantasy created with Twine where your choices matter to the story. You live inside the Labyrinth, a maze that hates to become known with walls and paths that change every hour. The center of the Labyrinth sits a university that has been there since the beginning of time; its only purpose is to recruit students who can solve the puzzle of life, who can create an elixir that would allow the King of the High Hills to live past the length of forever. Failure means a fate worse than death.

You are one of those students.

Althea Callaghan - You know her in death. She has been the taste of rot against your tongue, the anger and hurt in your palms. You see the nice, beautiful lines of her teeth and become a creature of grief unfolding unto yourself. Debase yourself with the fervent want of her. Bend at your waist and beg for forgiveness.

You hate her. You want to watch her bleed. She feels the exact same about you, but what she doesn't know is that every waking moment of your life is dedicated to her.

The Princess/Prince - The forgotten child of the throne. The 405th child of His glorious reign. Divinity runs through their veins, the heir to so much power, but they will never see themselves rule the unforgiving landscape of the Labyrinth. Their fate is to die and be buried amongst the endless graves of their dead brothers and sisters. They must do this so the King may live forever.

A fully customizable MC including gender, appearance, and sexuality

A landscape of horror. A landscape that hates you and everyone who might try to understand it. Go beyond the walls and be witness to a reality worse than death

Key choices that will influence your game and experience. Will you succeed or fail?

Learn what it means to be forgiven. Learn what it means to suffer. Become devotion. Become loyalty. Make your body anew before the King of the High Hills

DEMO (updated 6/10/24)

[beejsdevilishsoulmate]

Loki has decided that the spot right in front of the sensor on the TV is a good place to sleep...

[ladybyakuya]

| PAPRIKA + UMEMIYA HAJIME .

+cw. — fem!reader x prince!umemiya hajime, undertones of smut, angst, and fluff & strangers to lovers. | +wc. — 1k | +syn.— a tryst just before his big day and that was all it took to for him to be fearless. | +notes. — i do wanna write more. . .maybe continue it as mini series but lets see if the stars align or not! | redirect to blog navigation.

“Nobody needs to know about this,” Umemiya rasps against your shaky lips by breaking his tantalizingly lazy yet turbulent kiss.

“Yeah.” You breathe out a whisper, running your hands over his palms that rest on your cheeks. 

“Right.  . . Nobody.” His lips dash on yours again as his hands slowly travel down to your shoulders, deft hands, gnarly fingers slipping underneath the hem of your robe, little by little, peeling the robe off you. His Imperial Mantle conceals your body, always has been; since the day he laid his eyes on you. Even if the weight of it is too heavy to bear it alone sometimes, Umemiya believed that it was a little less when he was with you, when he saved you on that fierce stormy starless night. But even without it the high golden curtains and the pillar would provide both of you enough time to flee if anyone were to come, which is why Hiragi is standing at the advent of this gigantic hallway.

You feel the cold of the air grace one of your shoulders with goosebumps. Umemiya’s face is buried in the nook of your neck, one of his limbs holding the back of your nape keeping you in your place. still. The tip of his tongue licks your collarbones once before he flattens his tongue which travels from the head of your collarbone to the back of your ear lobes while his other limb follows the same trail from your waist up to your breast. His teeth nip your ear lobes at the same time as his hand squeezes your breasts making you stand on your tippy toes and then, you moan; the roused sigh flowing right into his ear making him recoil from this ravishing reality being reminded of his status as well as the consequences of his actions: that with such personage there come responsibilities followed by certain boundaries with it not leaving behind a promising morbidity either. You have always known that the tragedy that comes with the throne, and it never leaves you. It is epoxized to one fate and blood as if the other side of a coin thereby running from it was foolish, fighting against it is nothing but a pity so all you can do is to stand beside it.

Any pitchier than that, your voice would have echoed through the corridors. You have become exceptionally good at controlling your voice with the passage of time. His facial muscles squeeze at the thought of how cruel time it is that it passes. If only he could stop the time. . .

“We shouldn't do this,” Umemiya mumbled with a moan laced underneath, devouring desire palpable oozing from his breath. He skids away from you, saunting straight towards his inner chambers. Those fingers that have held a thousand swords, sparred day and night, fought battles that shook heaven and hell once refused to have the valor to disrobe you. Were you supposed to believe that? Your breath ceases at the bottom of your throat as you stand with your back glued against the wall in that gigantic empty corridor. There is a sound in the air. You can hear it; but no one is talking, neither walking or even taking a breath. You look at the end of the corridor only to see royal guard Hiragi standing just like before, a bronze statue except this time his palms are at the valley of his torso are twitching upon each other. 

You walk into his chambers finding him sitting at the edge of the bed with the crown of the prince in his hand, eyes scrutinizing it as if he could see the fate it holds once it finds its next rightful place since it has to find a new head to burden with a glorious purpose; since Umemiya would not be bearing the weight of such a burden anymore, after all, he is going to be appointed as the king today— a crown of heavier in status, weight, power and tragedy than before.

“Well, my knight, do you wish to save it after the coronation ceremony?”

Umemiya nods. . . simply nods, like six times in a row as if he did not expect such a question from you.  A crescent curve along your lips appears as you mumble to yourself, “Such a puppy.”

You two have not gotten to that stage yet. Umemiya stands up straightening his spine as you walk towards him. You take one good look at him, the knight you met that night before you fix his robe. You tie the knot of the laces of his dress shirt that has been undone by those same fingers not so long ago. Then, you move on to tying his coronation mantle. Umemiya looks at you as you take your time preparing him for his coronation ceremony. He thinks it is an act of galore valor that you can take responsibility for the things you mess up. 

“Are you nervous Haji?” 

“A little,” He says grabbing your palm, ceasing your movements as you were just about to deprive him from the touch of your hands. 

You look up. His eyes are as dark as the ocean. Your fingers clamp around his wrist pulling it on your chest. “Here.” You place your other hand on the left side of his chest. “No matter what or who turns their back to you I will never.” His eyebrows pinch ever so slightly that it is barely pinnable. The sincerity you have in those sparkling eyes, the loyalty that courses through your veins whenever you are around him, the devotion you have when you touch him is too much for him. It scares him. It scares his sanity to think what if . . . he loses you or something much worse . . .

“I know, my love.” He chimes leaning down. “I know.” His voice is now a weak whisper, a prayer as it says your name. His forehead touches yours as his free hand rests on yours which is still on his chest.