As Much As The Concept Of Jesus Being A Fairly Normal Lad Has Its Charms, Im Personally Very Intrigued

compilation

the thrilling saga

c!wilbur has spent so much time trying to be this grand figure, trying to prove his worth, trying to be worthy of anything, to prove that he's worth remembering and being loved!! he spiraled down so so far that he thought life wasn't worth living anymore! and in the end, after everything, he decided that the only thing he wanted was to go home! that's everything to me!

Azula always lies. 

saw this post by @heavenly-dusk and kinda went insane thinking abt it so i drew it, i hope you don’t mind! 

Wilbur doesn't know why he knows the steps. It feels like a dance you remember only in a hazy state. Walking beside a small kid, careful not to trip into her stride feels right. He feels like something overtakes him to speak in a gentler voice of reassurance. To sing her a song goodnight is instinct, not just as a musician but as something else. It feels so strange all of a sudden that he of all people is so careful with a child he's never met until that day. When he heard he was possibly a dad, he simply dismissed it like minor news. Akin to hearing you have a spider in your home or it's raining in 4 days, he'll get to it but it's nothing really.

But now he cares so much, he'd wreak havoc if anything happened to Tallulah. It feels like deja vu, like looking through a mirror to another world. A world where he has a special place surrounded by redwood trees and by the riverside. That other guy he's looking at, he's building everything up just for his own kid, with the same face of care and concerns as his own. He's singing some lullabies as him, matching the cadences and lyrics even if hushed and mumbled. He's teaching how to shoot a bow and arrow to his kid just like him, explaining the steps the same as him. He's leaving the kid soon just like the other, but at least he's trusting someone else to take care in his stead.

There's another kid, he realises. And that kid looks sad, in spite of the beautiful scenery. That kid is looking at walls, just like Tallulah. He's not living in much comfort or glamour, just like Tallulah. He's learning how to fend for himself with a bow and arrow, Tallulah will be like that soon. He's seen the dance, the rhythm of a deadbeat. And now its up to him to change the paces.

Will doesn't know why he pauses in faint recollection when a memory doesn't exist. It's merely a dream from a bygone night, but what's a memory but not a dream you've seen before. Yet when remembers walking through the forest and a flash of red fur snickering, he doesn't understand why a pang of burrowing feelings hits him.

And that feeling turns to drive, a desire to be at least the best dad he can be for now. For Tallulah and for that lonely kid he doesn't remember.

the thing all sherlock holmes adaptations get wrong is making the guy an irredeemable asshole who treats everyone like shit . not only is it not reflective of the original stories they miss that “nice, smart, well mannered dude who snorts coke when he needs to think” is possibly the funniest character ever devised 

When the rest of the world looks at the united states right now, we see a government who sends billions to support genocide but cannot help their own people starving on the streets.

We see a police force who won't go in to save children from school shootings, but deploy at a rapid rate to arrest peaceful protestors using their right to free speech to protest a genocide

America, you are a war mongering snake eating your own tail. You will protect and support war criminals in another country but let your own people starve and die

To the students bravely protesting now, we see your strength. We see what we saw when students protested the Vietnam War. We have faith you will prevail

I really want to see Possessed Philza because

A) Eggza would be absolutely fucking terrifying. Bad and Ant are scary on a surface level because they want to infect people, but they’re really just a couple of chaos gremlins. Phil? Oh Phil is war hardened, Phil is a tactician. The server wouldn’t last a fucking week.

B) Can you fucking imagine how Techno would react? Phil means the absolute world to him, just picture the angst of Techno confronting a possessed Philza and potentially having to fight his best friend/father. He’d turn the server upside down to find a cure

Starlight. Who do you see? Who do you smile for?

I hope it's me.

What if Sir Arthur Conan Doyle had written about John Watson? Everything is the same, except that we are reading Sherlock Holmes’s observations about his new flatmate Doctor Watson.

Things start out impersonal, intellectual, but fall right off that cold, craggy cliff before the first page is done with. The detective deduces the doctor from top to toes but by the second paragraph he’s forced to admit having a blush surprised out of him by Watson’s unlooked-for wonder and admiration. For accuracy’s sake and perhaps with a pinch of pride, he details everything that Watson had said in his praise, and ends up confessing to the pages how very agreeable it was to be met with applause instead of derision and doubt for once.

Holmes is later pleased to be written about in turn, but disgusted with the overly romantic tone Watson’s tale-telling takes. In a pique, he begins a paper on the man’s latest conquest, intending to show his flatmate how the wrong tone can ruin a story by using a cold, scientific tone to describe a passionate scene. Alas, the great brain meets a puzzle it cannot solve. Try as he will, his prose will not stay unmoved by its subject. Watson’s looks, Watson’s manners, Watson’s honesty and humor and curious mixture of humility and hubris; they poison Sherlock’s pen with admiration, and he throws the papers into the fire in the end, and tells himself it is proximity to the flames that heat his cheeks.

Doctor Watson has regular hours, but illness and injury do not. Holmes watches his flatmate dash away at all hours and in all manner of weather, leather satchel in hand and shoulders set for battle. He amuses himself by deducing the difficulties the doctor has ahead of him and predicting the hour he will return. If he foresees a particularly trying case for his friend, he ensures that Mrs. Hudson will send refreshments up at the proper time, and that he himself will be in the middle of playing one of Watson’s favorite airs to welcome him home. Between cases, Holmes assists by deducing diagnoses from symptoms related to him, and sometimes even accompanies Watson when he admits that an additional set of hands will not be unwelcome.

Their vocations even overlap now and again. Both Watson’s books and Holmes’s notes will at times mention the same names and places, with the doctor stitching up a man’s leg while the detective interrogates the other end of him. Their lives, their work, their stories grow more deeply intertwined as time passes, and what began as a scientific observation ends up as what can only be called a love letter.