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ᅠ⠀ ᅠ⠀

ᅠ ⠀⠀⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ❜ ⸒ ᅠ 𝒘eaves ⁽ 𝗈͟𝖿 ⁾ ݁  ݂ ݂ ݂ ⠀ ⌒ 𝒸.rimson. ─┈ 𓍢ִ໋ 💮˚ ⸒ ݁ ݁ ⁎ ᅠ ᅠᅠᅠᅠ،̲،̲ ⤹ #𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 ⤸ ₊ ˚

Someone requested Griffith and Momonga (evils)

——— and do see too, that modesty is a weakness when used in excess; that achievements are accomplished by means of eventuality. they are things you 𝐚𝐥𝐰𝐚𝐲𝐬 build to .. in every step you take.

there 𝐢𝐬 a dream i hold. it is the very same dream i’ve kept with me from the beginning. … what i seek is no less than a king’s throne.

The battlefield 🗡

#Berserk #Griffith "You always swing... before you talk — like you were when we first met."

-啓程的早上- -The Morning Departure- ​​​ #BERSERK #ベルセルク #Griffith #Guts

I put him in a complete scene :) #griffith #berserk

#Griffith #Berserk How could you, how dear you...!

https://t.co/Pkd5iaAjOf

“ come, you whose responsible. ”

his face brings no emotion. in this moment he becomes something leashed only by predatory senses; a beast in his own right. and still he steps closer.

his fingers glide with a persistence along the grip of his blade. and he steps in closer. his breath is caged behind the sealing of his lips. and he steps closer.

still, .. he moves. refusing hesitation a moment to swelter in the hissing results of its landing.

what had not been tossed to the surrounding area took on another form entirely, ——— trinitite, —— and that stood in the center of it all was a 𝐛𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐭; the cause.

he did not blink up to view the sky he stood beneath; he did not see the way in which it tore with a blazing presence. so he experiences only the ends of it. the blast of hot air lifts the sand from behind him and scatters it.

what landed was a creature that melted away everything in its path, .. without bias or favoritism. starting with the very sky itself. and griffith were all but unknowing of its descent from above.

“ first and foremost, where——. ” … there’s a crash then. a mighty crash. a meteorite? an asteroid? no, .. this were a different thing entirely. griffith could sense it, the unease. how it rises and writhes into something horribly tangible.

lost to the very wind that runs through his pale locks, silvery as angel wings. “ i suppose making haste would be most wise. ” the sand lets loose a rustle against the weight of his heel, and he rears his back to the sea.