18 6 / 2013

chekhovv:

stop with your face » henry cavill

(via dileonardis)

18 6 / 2013

18 6 / 2013

(Source: laurexia, via luniel)

18 6 / 2013

saevuswinds:

vardaesque:

you don’t understand i would sell my firstborn to know how this story started

Well it all started when Mrs. Hayfer wanted me to babysit her dumb house. When I got the keys, I sat them on top of this pie that I found on the counter. I knew it was going to be given to the family for desert if I didn’t eat it soon, so I was going to plan to eat it in my teacher’s house and dump all the crumbs on her bed. So it’s a win-win, right? Besides, she wouldn’t find out about the crumbs until after I was paid, and this teacher hates me anyway. Then, I got distracted when this hot cheerleader calls me, asking about what movie I’d recommend, but before I could answer, I realize that my mom would be there any second to serve dinner, and there was no way I was sharing that pie. So I bust out of there with the pie and the keys, and the moment I get in the house, I start chowing down on the pie with my bare hands, trying to eat this thing before anyone knows I took it, right? Well, since the pie crust was dry, I chugged a 2-liter bottle of soda whenever my throat would get dry and eventually, I really needed “to go.” Only when I went to flush, the water wouldn’t stop flowing and there was no plunger to be found. Usually I’d just shrug and say it was Josh’s fault or something, but let’s get real here, Mrs. Hayfer would’ve blamed me about her toilet overflowing if I was 30 states away. So I jammed my foot in there, hoping it’d make the toilet stop flushing. Then my phone rings, and I knew it was my mom, asking where her pie went, and because Meghan decided it’d be a great idea to make my ring tone a bunch of cats meowing, Mrs. Hayfer’s dog, Tiberius starts freaking out, bashing into the door over and over again. Now anyone who knows this dog knows that this dog will happily eat anything, and that includes the pie, and probably myself.  So my foot’s totally stuck in there right, I’m freaking out, the dog’s having a seizure and I still got half a pie left. 

saevuswinds:

vardaesque:

you don’t understand i would sell my firstborn to know how this story started

Well it all started when Mrs. Hayfer wanted me to babysit her dumb house. When I got the keys, I sat them on top of this pie that I found on the counter. I knew it was going to be given to the family for desert if I didn’t eat it soon, so I was going to plan to eat it in my teacher’s house and dump all the crumbs on her bed. So it’s a win-win, right? Besides, she wouldn’t find out about the crumbs until after I was paid, and this teacher hates me anyway. Then, I got distracted when this hot cheerleader calls me, asking about what movie I’d recommend, but before I could answer, I realize that my mom would be there any second to serve dinner, and there was no way I was sharing that pie. So I bust out of there with the pie and the keys, and the moment I get in the house, I start chowing down on the pie with my bare hands, trying to eat this thing before anyone knows I took it, right? Well, since the pie crust was dry, I chugged a 2-liter bottle of soda whenever my throat would get dry and eventually, I really needed “to go.” Only when I went to flush, the water wouldn’t stop flowing and there was no plunger to be found. Usually I’d just shrug and say it was Josh’s fault or something, but let’s get real here, Mrs. Hayfer would’ve blamed me about her toilet overflowing if I was 30 states away. So I jammed my foot in there, hoping it’d make the toilet stop flushing. Then my phone rings, and I knew it was my mom, asking where her pie went, and because Meghan decided it’d be a great idea to make my ring tone a bunch of cats meowing, Mrs. Hayfer’s dog, Tiberius starts freaking out, bashing into the door over and over again. Now anyone who knows this dog knows that this dog will happily eat anything, and that includes the pie, and probably myself.  So my foot’s totally stuck in there right, I’m freaking out, the dog’s having a seizure and I still got half a pie left. 

(Source: abadeerzs, via secretloverofyou)

18 6 / 2013

My problems explained in a conversation

  • 1: Can i get a boyfriend now?
  • 2: Sure... I'll give you all the one night stands you want
  • 1: But I want a boyfriend
  • 2: Here you go.. He is handsome, he studies medicine, he is 21 and he doesn't want a boyfriend
  • 1: But I want a bo...
  • 2: Shh, shh, shh.. Here you go.. some alcohol
  • 1: Thanks (?) I guess...
  • 2: Have fun!!!

18 6 / 2013

davidout-sortir:

methodistcoloringbook:

well i just spit lemonade all over my desk

my favourite thing ever i love her

(via ichhabeschongeraucht)

18 6 / 2013

writingsforwinter:

Rebloggable by request.

(via thewrongside-ofme)

18 6 / 2013

neurowolf:

xfreischutz:

I bring dishonour upon my family

it was actually kind of fun though

No, this is fabulous!

(via dileonardis)

17 6 / 2013

lumos5000:

lsdandthc:

skittlezthecat:

da-sy:

redvinesgiraffe:


You were on your way home when you died.
It was a car accident. Nothing particularly remarkable, but fatal nonetheless. You left behind a wife and two children. It was a painless death. The EMTs tried their best to save you, but to no avail. Your body was so utterly shattered you were better off, trust me.
And that’s when you met me.
“What… what happened?” You asked. “Where am I?”
“You died,” I said, matter-of-factly. No point in mincing words.
“There was a… a truck and it was skidding…”
“Yup,” I said.
“I… I died?”
“Yup. But don’t feel bad about it. Everyone dies,” I said.
You looked around. There was nothingness. Just you and me. “What is this place?” You asked. “Is this the afterlife?”
“More or less,” I said.
“Are you god?” You asked.
“Yup,” I replied. “I’m God.”
“My kids… my wife,” you said.
“What about them?”
“Will they be all right?”
“That’s what I like to see,” I said. “You just died and your main concern is for your family. That’s good stuff right there.”
You looked at me with fascination. To you, I didn’t look like God. I just looked like some man. Or possibly a woman. Some vague authority figure, maybe. More of a grammar school teacher than the almighty.
“Don’t worry,” I said. “They’ll be fine. Your kids will remember you as perfect in every way. They didn’t have time to grow contempt for you. Your wife will cry on the outside, but will be secretly relieved. To be fair, your marriage was falling apart. If it’s any consolation, she’ll feel very guilty for feeling relieved.”
“Oh,” you said. “So what happens now? Do I go to heaven or hell or something?”
“Neither,” I said. “You’ll be reincarnated.”
“Ah,” you said. “So the Hindus were right,”
“All religions are right in their own way,” I said. “Walk with me.”
You followed along as we strode through the void. “Where are we going?”
“Nowhere in particular,” I said. “It’s just nice to walk while we talk.”
“So what’s the point, then?” You asked. “When I get reborn, I’ll just be a blank slate, right? A baby. So all my experiences and everything I did in this life won’t matter.”
“Not so!” I said. “You have within you all the knowledge and experiences of all your past lives. You just don’t remember them right now.”
I stopped walking and took you by the shoulders. “Your soul is more magnificent, beautiful, and gigantic than you can possibly imagine. A human mind can only contain a tiny fraction of what you are. It’s like sticking your finger in a glass of water to see if it’s hot or cold. You put a tiny part of yourself into the vessel, and when you bring it back out, you’ve gained all the experiences it had.
“You’ve been in a human for the last 48 years, so you haven’t stretched out yet and felt the rest of your immense consciousness. If we hung out here for long enough, you’d start remembering everything. But there’s no point to doing that between each life.”
“How many times have I been reincarnated, then?”
“Oh lots. Lots and lots. An in to lots of different lives.” I said. “This time around, you’ll be a Chinese peasant girl in 540 AD.”
“Wait, what?” You stammered. “You’re sending me back in time?”
“Well, I guess technically. Time, as you know it, only exists in your universe. Things are different where I come from.”
“Where you come from?” You said.
“Oh sure,” I explained “I come from somewhere. Somewhere else. And there are others like me. I know you’ll want to know what it’s like there, but honestly you wouldn’t understand.”
“Oh,” you said, a little let down. “But wait. If I get reincarnated to other places in time, I could have interacted with myself at some point.”
“Sure. Happens all the time. And with both lives only aware of their own lifespan you don’t even know it’s happening.”
“So what’s the point of it all?”
“Seriously?” I asked. “Seriously? You’re asking me for the meaning of life? Isn’t that a little stereotypical?”
“Well it’s a reasonable question,” you persisted.
I looked you in the eye. “The meaning of life, the reason I made this whole universe, is for you to mature.”
“You mean mankind? You want us to mature?”
“No, just you. I made this whole universe for you. With each new life you grow and mature and become a larger and greater intellect.”
“Just me? What about everyone else?”
“There is no one else,” I said. “In this universe, there’s just you and me.”
You stared blankly at me. “But all the people on earth…”
“All you. Different incarnations of you.”
“Wait. I’m everyone!?”
“Now you’re getting it,” I said, with a congratulatory slap on the back.
“I’m every human being who ever lived?”
“Or who will ever live, yes.”
“I’m Abraham Lincoln?”
“And you’re John Wilkes Booth, too,” I added.
“I’m Hitler?” You said, appalled.
“And you’re the millions he killed.”
“I’m Jesus?”
“And you’re everyone who followed him.”
You fell silent.
“Every time you victimized someone,” I said, “you were victimizing yourself. Every act of kindness you’ve done, you’ve done to yourself. Every happy and sad moment ever experienced by any human was, or will be, experienced by you.”
You thought for a long time.
“Why?” You asked me. “Why do all this?”
“Because someday, you will become like me. Because that’s what you are. You’re one of my kind. You’re my child.”
“Whoa,” you said, incredulous. “You mean I’m a god?”
“No. Not yet. You’re a fetus. You’re still growing. Once you’ve lived every human life throughout all time, you will have grown enough to be born.”
“So the whole universe,” you said, “it’s just…”
“An egg.” I answered. “Now it’s time for you to move on to your next life.”
And I sent you on your way.

O_O

yesss i found it again! one of my all time favourite reads.

Philosophy went to the max right here

OI SCROLL BACK UP AND READ ALL OF IT!

That was freaking beautiful. How have I not read this before?

lumos5000:

lsdandthc:

skittlezthecat:

da-sy:

redvinesgiraffe:

You were on your way home when you died.

It was a car accident. Nothing particularly remarkable, but fatal nonetheless. You left behind a wife and two children. It was a painless death. The EMTs tried their best to save you, but to no avail. Your body was so utterly shattered you were better off, trust me.

And that’s when you met me.

“What… what happened?” You asked. “Where am I?”

“You died,” I said, matter-of-factly. No point in mincing words.

“There was a… a truck and it was skidding…”

“Yup,” I said.

“I… I died?”

“Yup. But don’t feel bad about it. Everyone dies,” I said.

You looked around. There was nothingness. Just you and me. “What is this place?” You asked. “Is this the afterlife?”

“More or less,” I said.

“Are you god?” You asked.

“Yup,” I replied. “I’m God.”

“My kids… my wife,” you said.

“What about them?”

“Will they be all right?”

“That’s what I like to see,” I said. “You just died and your main concern is for your family. That’s good stuff right there.”

You looked at me with fascination. To you, I didn’t look like God. I just looked like some man. Or possibly a woman. Some vague authority figure, maybe. More of a grammar school teacher than the almighty.

“Don’t worry,” I said. “They’ll be fine. Your kids will remember you as perfect in every way. They didn’t have time to grow contempt for you. Your wife will cry on the outside, but will be secretly relieved. To be fair, your marriage was falling apart. If it’s any consolation, she’ll feel very guilty for feeling relieved.”

“Oh,” you said. “So what happens now? Do I go to heaven or hell or something?”

“Neither,” I said. “You’ll be reincarnated.”

“Ah,” you said. “So the Hindus were right,”

“All religions are right in their own way,” I said. “Walk with me.”

You followed along as we strode through the void. “Where are we going?”

“Nowhere in particular,” I said. “It’s just nice to walk while we talk.”

“So what’s the point, then?” You asked. “When I get reborn, I’ll just be a blank slate, right? A baby. So all my experiences and everything I did in this life won’t matter.”

“Not so!” I said. “You have within you all the knowledge and experiences of all your past lives. You just don’t remember them right now.”

I stopped walking and took you by the shoulders. “Your soul is more magnificent, beautiful, and gigantic than you can possibly imagine. A human mind can only contain a tiny fraction of what you are. It’s like sticking your finger in a glass of water to see if it’s hot or cold. You put a tiny part of yourself into the vessel, and when you bring it back out, you’ve gained all the experiences it had.

“You’ve been in a human for the last 48 years, so you haven’t stretched out yet and felt the rest of your immense consciousness. If we hung out here for long enough, you’d start remembering everything. But there’s no point to doing that between each life.”

“How many times have I been reincarnated, then?”

“Oh lots. Lots and lots. An in to lots of different lives.” I said. “This time around, you’ll be a Chinese peasant girl in 540 AD.”

“Wait, what?” You stammered. “You’re sending me back in time?”

“Well, I guess technically. Time, as you know it, only exists in your universe. Things are different where I come from.”

“Where you come from?” You said.

“Oh sure,” I explained “I come from somewhere. Somewhere else. And there are others like me. I know you’ll want to know what it’s like there, but honestly you wouldn’t understand.”

“Oh,” you said, a little let down. “But wait. If I get reincarnated to other places in time, I could have interacted with myself at some point.”

“Sure. Happens all the time. And with both lives only aware of their own lifespan you don’t even know it’s happening.”

“So what’s the point of it all?”

“Seriously?” I asked. “Seriously? You’re asking me for the meaning of life? Isn’t that a little stereotypical?”

“Well it’s a reasonable question,” you persisted.

I looked you in the eye. “The meaning of life, the reason I made this whole universe, is for you to mature.”

“You mean mankind? You want us to mature?”

“No, just you. I made this whole universe for you. With each new life you grow and mature and become a larger and greater intellect.”

“Just me? What about everyone else?”

“There is no one else,” I said. “In this universe, there’s just you and me.”

You stared blankly at me. “But all the people on earth…”

“All you. Different incarnations of you.”

“Wait. I’m everyone!?”

“Now you’re getting it,” I said, with a congratulatory slap on the back.

“I’m every human being who ever lived?”

“Or who will ever live, yes.”

“I’m Abraham Lincoln?”

“And you’re John Wilkes Booth, too,” I added.

“I’m Hitler?” You said, appalled.

“And you’re the millions he killed.”

“I’m Jesus?”

“And you’re everyone who followed him.”

You fell silent.

“Every time you victimized someone,” I said, “you were victimizing yourself. Every act of kindness you’ve done, you’ve done to yourself. Every happy and sad moment ever experienced by any human was, or will be, experienced by you.”

You thought for a long time.

“Why?” You asked me. “Why do all this?”

“Because someday, you will become like me. Because that’s what you are. You’re one of my kind. You’re my child.”

“Whoa,” you said, incredulous. “You mean I’m a god?”

“No. Not yet. You’re a fetus. You’re still growing. Once you’ve lived every human life throughout all time, you will have grown enough to be born.”

“So the whole universe,” you said, “it’s just…”

“An egg.” I answered. “Now it’s time for you to move on to your next life.”

And I sent you on your way.

O_O

yesss i found it again! one of my all time favourite reads.

Philosophy went to the max right here

OI SCROLL BACK UP AND READ ALL OF IT!

That was freaking beautiful. How have I not read this before?

(Source: galactanet.com, via a-misty-memory)

17 6 / 2013