Its The Way Chayanne Only Died Bc He Was Trying To Help Phil And Tallulah, He Was Still Up And Could've

When that episode happens in Stampede I hope that it's a combination of the church and the couch. I hope that they sit in front of the altar, I hope that they lean on it. I hope that the roof is destroyed and that you can see the ship from within. I hope that the little papers look like flower petals and that the bottle looks like a bouquet. I hope he tries to smile but fails.

I hope I cry.

¿Pero que carajos esta pasando? De la nada ya no entiendo a nadie, puta madre ya no se puede hacer la torre. ¿Quién chingados hizo esto? ¿Fue Dios?

Cabrón

hmm today i think i will build the tallest tower possible

a gift for @tomodachimeter !

this is a scene from her fukinamono fic, if you let me !! It’s such a wonderful story….

I hope you like it :3c

Tomo’s Theory of Happiness

There will always be those who dare to brave the lightning’s glow

someone: sherlock holmes is a machine, haven’t you read the books—

me, opening up my ornate copy of acd’s sherlock holmes, with its tender illustrations, pointing blindly to any line holmes says: he’s a sweet boy

a

Death

When Russia mentions death there is an imperceptible flinch in the room. He does it causally. Why wouldn’t he? He has died so many times.

           America’s hand still flutters up, aimlessly, as though to touch an old scar, but there are too many. He is still young, and he moves unconsciously. His is the age of bullets, explosions, and distant violence. He knows well the pain of a gunshot. That doesn’t mean anything anymore. He knows what it is to become nothing at the touch of a button; the feeling of fire before the force of scientific progress strips flesh from bone. You still come back from nothing, when you’re not human. He always came back.

           England knows these things. He knows fire more intimately. After what feels like an eternity it stops hurting. The powerful belief of his people drove him back. You can come back from ash. He never felt like a phoenix.

           France knows defeat when bringing blade against blade. The piercing is symbolic; his heart beating itself to shreds as though he could really die when he never does. He falls to his knees, not animated by blood or a heartbeat. You recover from mortal wounds. He still fights as though he can die because others can.

           Spain, God knows, has drowned more times than he can remember. It burns when the water fills his lungs. Salt water is worse. You can still get back to shore, even if it takes hours. He doesn’t need to breath.

           Germany, Italy, and Japan died in that grand war. They did not make their pact to lose. They could have died and never come back, the stakes they gambled. The stroke of a pen can cease the driving force that brings you back and back and back… They knew death dearly enough to dare to risk their lives.

           China is older than all of them. He knows death in nearly every form. He almost knows rebirth. He could laugh at most of the stories the others tell; that though does not cross his mind. They may all argue but there is one thing they understand.

           Russia has mentioned death. There was an imperceptible flinch in the room. All of them thought of it, briefly, in flashes and moments without words, but none dwell. Why would they? They have all died so many times.  

What the red means