More Poco’s Udon World Fanarts!

im obsessed with the implications this has for phil actually. like, is he from the IRL too? is he from fucking utah??

Awkward question, but what do you think Holmes saw in Watson?

Oh, my goodness. Well, he was everything Holmes needed; wry, and kind, and occasionally snarky, generous with his praise, and honest about his own flaws without being too hard on himself. He loved music and knowledge and beauty. He knew how to live through hardship with dignity and how to enjoy good things when they came without becoming dependent on them. He was adventurous. He was incessantly curious. He was a wonderful listener, and intelligent, and quick to comprehend, and enjoyed being taught. He never let himself be bullied or overawed. He was confident in what he knew. He was compassionate. He was deeply sincere. He knew how to keep others’ secrets, and respect their limits and their privacy and their humanity. He despised cruelty. He didn’t judge by class, but by character. He was a hopeful realist. He was quick to defend Holmes, even from himself. He valued truth and justice above even the law, which is an essential trait in a passionately fair man’s partner. He was capable of instant obedience or of acting promptly on his own instincts, whichever was necessary. He was absurdly brave. And he was a flaming bisexual.

forgot to share this my bad- ^^; anyways the guys ever !!

How do you kill a God?

Aphrodite laughs, head tossed back with stars in her hair, ‘We are immortal. We are ageless. We will never die.’ 

How do you kill a God?

Hera sighs, ‘You rob them of love and loyalty. They will be alone and unhappy, and eternity will seem like a punishment, but it is not death.’ 

How do you kill a God?

Zeus declares, rather confidently, ‘You deny them their power. Poseidon nods his head in agreement. ‘They will be weak and defeated, perhaps even chopped up into pieces, but it is not death.’ 

How do you kill a God?

Apollo closes his eyes. ‘You strip them of their senses. Their eyes, and they cease to see. Their ears, and they are rendered silent. They will be in the dark, conscious and cut off for millennium, but it is not death.’

How do you kill a God?

Hades whispers, though still his voice carries, ‘With another God. An immortal for an immortal. Era for an Era. A celestial being to strip another’s soul. He pauses, the rest are silent. ‘A God for a God.’

L.H.Z // How do you kill a God?

"I am the world's worst man. I have killed, kidnapped and tortured millions only for money and power. I have looked to the world's misery in the face and I have taken all that they had left and yet here you are with a smile in your face and your eyes, calling me kind, polite, sweet and noble, showing me love even when I don't deserve it. Do you know how much pain it causes me? That you love me even when there are a hundred reasons of why you shouldn't, that you kiss me and smile to me even when I don't deserve it. Do you know how much it makes me want to love you back?"

Part of a story that I will never write ;-;

it's the one year anniversary of the red festival and all i can think of is two minutes and forty six seconds.

that's how long c!techno stalled for.

two minutes and forty six seconds of him pretending schlatt wasn't asking him to kill tubbo, asking if he meant getting tubbo a coat when schlatt told him to 'take care of' him.

two minutes and forty six seconds of techno stuttering and turning ever so slightly towards his allies on the roof, not wanting to give up their position, knowing they couldn't do anything.

two minutes and forty six seconds of pretending that knowing if he tried to run or save tubbo, he'd likely die was 'mild peer pressure'.

and two minutes and forty six seconds of c!tubbo wondering what was going to happen, wondering if the ally he'd been promised wouldn't hurt him would do just that.

two minutes and forty six seconds that tubbo had to wait either to die or for his friends to try to save him, putting their lives at risk as well. two minutes and forty six seconds for his work as a spy to be over.

two minutes and forty six seconds for schlatt and this one event to drive a wedge between so many people, drive it in so firmly, that to this day the server is still feeling the effects.

12 museums that you can visit online

www.hermitagemuseum.org

britishmuseum.org

www.louvre.fr

www.museodelprado.es

collections.vam.ac.uk

www.moma.org

www.khm.at

www.digitalsculpture.org

www.tnm.jp

artsandculture.google.com

collections.lacma.org

collections.rom.on.ca

Tommy is dead. The server reacts.

(word count: 1,732)

—————

“What have you done?”

His voice is a reedy whisper, thin with horror and the realization that he is too little, too late. He doesn’t expect the sound to carry over the lava, but a response comes soon enough.

“He wouldn’t stop talking. And he killed the cat.”

Dream’s voice is even, calm, almost a bit defensive, as if he truly believes that he is justified in his actions. Sam swallows down his mounting nausea, places his trident against the floor to steady himself. The lava crackles, hisses, bubbles, orange and glowing, and he can’t cross it. Not now. Not when the security threat remains unresolved. Not when any wrong move on his part could very well mean Dream’s escape.

But he’s already made the wrong move, hasn’t he? Made the wrong move, and Tommy has paid for it. Has been paying for it, this whole last week. He kept him in there, kept him locked in a box with Dream even though he knows very well how it would effect him, kept him locked in with the reasoning that it was temporary, that he would let him out as soon as he could, that he couldn’t risk Dream’s release for anyone, even for Tommy.

But it’s not temporary.

Tommy was sixteen and loud-mouthed and bright-eyed when Sam last saw him, when he said that this would be the last time, that he was going to put his past behind him and look to a new start. Tommy will always be sixteen and loud-mouthed and bright-eyed, and locked in a box. There will be no new start. No seventeenth birthday. No triumphant return, no shining hotel. No tricks, no scams, no pranks.

Seguir leyendo

🕝🕘🕧

He made wilbur stay in the viewing platform to witness his suicide and the destruction of what they had made together. He made him philza, the pressure plate the button, to prove a point. To defuse the bomb, wilbur. Holy fucking shit