It should’ve felt like the bottom of his face detached, fortunately the blow was adjusted enough for his vision to flash white. A manifestation of the hunt incarnate was before him, as the distance between them dwindled with agonizing surety. #𝗔𝗛𝗝𝗜𝗡 / #𝗗𝗥𝗘𝗔𝗗𝗛𝗔𝗥𝗥𝗢𝗪.

The day we stepped back, the world turned feral. Not all at once. It rotted slowly under masks that had forgotten what the ‘𝐒’ meant. Now they wear justice like armor, so I returned not to lead. To remind them, power without restraint is 𝐓𝐘𝐑𝐀𝐍𝐍𝐘* in disguise. ‍ ‍

He who cannot be hunted cannot be 𝐡𝐨𝐧𝐨𝐫𝐞𝐝. He who is hunted … will be 𝖗𝖊𝖒𝖊𝖒𝖇𝖊𝖗𝖊𝖉.

‍ ‍ #𝑫𝑹𝑬𝑨𝑫𝑯𝑨𝑹𝑹𝑶𝑾 The haunting that comes before death. A season of hunted kings. Something has come for my 𝓯𝓪𝓶𝓲𝓵𝔂, to claim their heads … as ——𝑻𝑹𝑶𝑷𝑯𝑰𝑬𝑺. ❪ @killerofkillers.bsky.social ❫ ‍ ‍

I’m the devil you know vs the devils you don’t.

His throne was a cairn of cracked helms, his court, the hush before impact. He strode the Nine like a war-chant, bridging Midgard to Asgard with the heel of his wrath. Thor, breaker of staves, splitter of sky, 𝗳𝗶𝗿𝘀𝘁𝗯𝗼𝗿𝗻 of the storm’s spine. He did not reign. He resounded.

The rapture of 𝗰𝗼𝗻𝗾𝘂𝗲𝘀𝘁, not the triumph of kings, but the birth cry of the storm. Thor, a god swaddled in fury, had no crown of jewels, he wore the tempest itself as his cloak, a mantle woven of shattered skies and screaming winds. A time untouched by subtlety, where the

Beneath the fathomless black sky, where stars dared not shine, the wilderness was a canvas of bleached silence, stretched taut and blanketed in eternal snow. Amidst this alabaster sea of solitude stood the stoic wrath of 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗪𝗼𝗹𝘃𝗲𝗿𝗶𝗻𝗲, a shadow among shadows, a living scar upon the landscape.

A billion sentinels of pine swayed beneath the unrelenting breath of the wind, their limbs stretching and twisting like skeletal hands in the grip of a phantom gale. The frigid air howled through the forest, a symphony of sorrow and desolation that seemed to echo the very heartbeat of the land.

‍ ‍ ‍ ‍

𝑬𝒍 𝑫𝒊𝒂𝒃𝒍𝒐. ‍ ‍

‍ ‍ I DO NOT EXIST: THERE EXIST BUT THE THOUSANDS OF GRAVES THAT REFLECT ME.

Surrounded in a mind scape full of violence, chaos—my only shroud. A red mist brings 𝙢𝙞𝙨𝙚𝙧𝙮, within him, the bloody war wages between man and 𝒂𝒏𝒊𝒎𝒂𝒍 . The animal is 𝘩𝘶𝘯𝘨𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘳 and the temporary respite beneath man’s flesh is feasted on, to set itself free.

… How does a man search for his own 𝘴𝘰𝘶𝘭 . ‍ ‍

He stood at the center of a local bar. Bodies and severed limbs alike lay strewn amongst ichor-soaked floorboards … ruthless ire laid waste to a group of lowlife thugs attempting armed robbery. Alberta’s own, Logan. “ Drinks on you. ”

⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀ ❛ 𝙬𝙝𝙮 𝙘𝙧𝙖𝙬𝙡 𝙤𝙪𝙩 𝙤𝙛 𝙝𝙚𝙡𝙡, ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀𝙬𝙝𝙚𝙣 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙙𝙚𝙫𝙞𝙡 𝙞𝙨 𝙨𝙪𝙘𝙝 ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀𝙖 𝙝𝙚𝙖𝙫𝙚𝙣𝙡𝙮 𝙡𝙤𝙫𝙚𝙧 ⠀. . . ❜ ⠀⠀⠀⠀

—— ;

"If you had two options and one of them was taller, stronger, and nearly invulnerable, which would you choose? I like being able to walk down dark alleys by myself... [...] I like the way people have to tilt their heads a little bit to talk to me. It's a good feeling..."

❝ 𝐈𝐓'𝐒 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐀𝐌𝐀𝐙𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐒𝐏𝐈𝐃𝐄𝐑-𝐌𝐀𝐍! ❞ ▪ more info below.

WAR IS NEVER OVER. 𝘀𝗹𝗮𝘆 and spare naught, when the call to combat comes. Soaked with escaping life, 𝘸𝘢𝘳𝘳𝘪𝘰𝘳𝘴 become the object of humanity’s plea, for *𝙥𝙚𝙖𝙘𝙚.

The 𝖈𝙧𝙪𝙚𝙡𝙚𝙨𝙩, the most 𝚄͟𝙽͟𝙽͟𝙰͟𝚃͟𝚄͟𝚁͟𝙰͟𝙻͟ 𝒃𝒆𝒂𝒔𝒕 on the face of the earth, the one most likely to 𝒅𝒆𝒔𝒕𝒓𝒐𝒚 everything - is 𝐦𝐚𝐧...

⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ 𝘉𝘖𝘙𝘕 𝘈𝘚 𝘈 𝘚𝘈𝘊𝘙𝘐𝘍𝘐𝘊𝘌. 𝘗𝘓𝘌𝘋 𝘛𝘖𝘞𝘈𝘙𝘋𝘚 𝘈𝘕 𝘜𝘕𝘚𝘊𝘙𝘐𝘗𝘛𝘌𝘋 𝘋𝘌𝘚𝘛𝘐𝘕𝘠. ᪥⠀⠀ ⠀⠀

ㅤㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ〈ᴘᴀᴛʜ ᴏꜰ ᴇᴍᴘᴛʏ ꜱᴋʏ〉ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ T̴̼̼͈̝̹̆̂̾̀͝h̸̬̄̂̒ẹ̴̛̄̓͌̉̍̊̇̇ ̶̡͓̣̯̓F̴͇̩̲̙̪̅̃̏͐͋̀̀̓̕â̵̱̞̗͔̟͓͋́̽̊̈́̀̀͝ͅĺ̵̡͕͈̼̦̫̼͙̱̈́͂̂̿̈́͐͛̒̂s̷̨͚̝͉̝̦̩͉̐͑͗̂͂͐̉̈̚̚͜e̸̛̩̻͓̹̙̼̮͕͋̌̉̓̐̑̃̌͜͜ ̶͔̀́͆̈͑͘Ğ̶̡̞̞̳̥̠̦̝̮͒̀͊͝͝o̴̡̻͔̮̭̣͇̯͛d̸̨̟͚͕͓̞͈́̈͐̽͠ ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ