Today's Document
Cosimo Galluzzi
cherry valley forever
Alisa U Zemlji Chuda
YOU ARE THE REASON
tumblr dot com
Lint Roller? I Barely Know Her
izzy's playlists!
almost home
AnasAbdin
taylor price
No title available
ellievsbear
styofa doing anything
PUT YOUR BEARD IN MY MOUTH
Product Placement
Mike Driver
Show & Tell
祝日 / Permanent Vacation
Discoholic 🪩
seen from T1
seen from T1
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from Algeria
seen from Thailand
seen from United States
seen from T1
seen from United States
seen from Türkiye
seen from Germany
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seen from Hong Kong SAR China
seen from United States
seen from Poland
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seen from Australia
seen from Malaysia
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seen from United States
@smartweedbrain
(mangaspoilers maybe??)
this is how I view the kageyama energy throughout the years + bonus:
we didn't get to see 1st-time-senpai-kags at all. but since (mangaspoilers again?? woops) hina had his spiritual travel after highschool, I assume kageyama had his during 2nd year and that he was, contrary to popular belief, an excellent hippie
Fun fact: Tenochtitlan fell in 1521. From 1603 onwards, large numbers of honest-to-god fricking Japanese Samurai came to Mexico from Japan to work as guardsmen and mercenaries.
Ergo, it would be 100% historically accurate to write a story starring a quartet consisting of the child or grandchild of Aztec Noblemen, an escaped African slave, a Spanish Jew fleeing the Inquisition (which was relaxed in Mexico in 1606, for a time) and a Katana-wielding Samurai in Colonial Mexico.
Also a whole bunch of Chinese Characters BECAUSE MEXICO CITY HAD A CHINATOWN WITHIN TEN YEARS OF THE FALL OF THE AZTEC EMPIRE.
i love villain deku aus but i also want one where instead of cool outfits he just wears his tacky shirt shirts
// v!deku request, thanks yall c:
Y’ALL
SOMEONE IS EDITING THE READY PLAYER ONE WIKI PAGE AND ITS BEEN THE WILDEST RIDE OF 2018
please help I cant
life left behind
You somehow find out the exact date and time of your death in advance. You know that nothing else is going to kill you until your time comes, and so you go all out.
June 11, 2018. 3:33 p.m.
You stare at the words written on the small slip of paper the oracle gave you. Is she a quack? No- she predicted a whole lot of other things right, things you’ve never told anyone, like the name of the girl you’re in love with and the fact that you know you’re adopted but your parents never officially told you. She’s real. It’s all legit.
So you’re going to die on June 11, in less than six months, at 3:33 pm.
How?
Why me?
You spend a few days in a state of panic. There’s so much you haven’t done yet, you’re only twenty-three, you’ve just barely graduated college and you still have tons of things you want to do with your life.
And yet you’re sitting on the floor of your small apartment, eating piping hot ramen noodles out of a red plastic cup.
That’s when it hits you- that you can’t sit around moping and dreading June 11th until it comes.
If you’re going to go out, you go out in style.
It’s March 13, 2018 and you make a list. There are 89 days until you die, if you don’t count today or June 11th; there are 50 things on your bucket list. With plenty of time and all the money in your savings account at the ready, you throw your blanket off and stand up, hands on your hips.
Watch out, world, here I come.
The next day you start the search for your adoptive parents, #1 on the list. This one will take the longest so it’s best to start out with it. After sending off a few emails, you look to #2- ask Her out. The two of you met in college. She’s single, and you know this because you totally don’t check Her Facebook page every few days to see Her relationship status. This time, when you log onto Facebook, you do something more. You message Her.
Hey! Remember me?
She responds back a few minutes later.
Yeah! Of course. We had so much fun in psych. What’s up? :)
A smiley face, that’s a good sign. You take a deep breath and tap out the letters on your phone keyboard.
I was wondering if you’d like to go out on a date sometime. To get coffee or see a movie or something.
Your finger hesitates over the send button, but then a little voice in the back of your head shouts out at you:
What are you waiting for? You’re dying in less than a hundred days! It’s now or never!
You press send.
She texts back almost immediately.
Sounds good to me! ;) Would next Wednesday work for you?
Any day works for you, at least until June 11th, but She doesn’t know that.
Yeah! Sounds great.
You have your first date next Wednesday, at a local coffee shop. Mostly you catch up, since it’s been almost a year since you’ve last seen each other (at graduation). You walk Her back to Her apartment a few blocks away, the two of you stopping quickly at a cute cupcake store to get a little something sweet. She gets frosting on Her nose, and when you try to point it out, She just laughs and puts a matching dab on your nose. It’s little things like this you always liked about Her in college- this girl could make anything (like Professor Livingston’s boring psych lectures) fun.
She kisses you on the cheek outside the door to Her apartment building, too. You’re pretty sure She got some frosting on your cheek, and you have just over eighty days left to live, so you don’t care.
Over the next month, you cross off twenty things from your list, including 6. Eat at a five-star restaurant and 10. See a show on Broadway. And as for Her, there She is. She stands by your side, making you laugh. You kiss Her for the first time on March 29, 2018- 3. Kiss Her. The next day you get an email back from the adoption agency with the name and phone number of your birth mother. They don’t know who your birth father is. You call the number.
Your birth mother picks up. “Hello?”
Whittaker. Your birth surname is Whittaker. You take a deep breath. “Is this Jeanne Whittaker?”
There’s a pause. “Yes, this is she. May I ask who this is?”
You’re not quite sure how to say it but it comes out anyway. “I- I’m. I’m your first child.”
When you say your name, Jeanne Whittaker starts to cry.
You meet her three days later in the same coffee shop in which you had your first date with Her. You have her hair and nose, but your eyes are lighter. She doesn’t know who your father is either, but that’s okay. One parent is enough. Your adoptive parents are thrilled, and they and Jeanne get along quite well when you introduce them the next week. They will have each other to lean on, when you are gone.
As June 11 approaches, you become obsessed with the idea of doing more, of being more. You take a day trip- 24 hours, nothing more, you don’t have that kind of time- to the Bahamas; you’ve always wanted to travel out of the USA (#11). You take fencing lessons every Thursday night from 5:30 to 7 (#46). You take part in a competitive eating contest on May 3rd (#34) and you get second-to-last place, but hey, it was fun. Your parents are slightly confused but they let you have your fun, especially when you promise them you’ll stop being so weird in a month or two. (You’ll be dead by then. They don’t need to know that.) And your girlfriend- She too is concerned. “Who takes a day trip to the Bahamas?” She asks one day, when you’re settling down on Her couch to watch all eight Harry Potter movies in a row (#27, luckily something She has always wanted to do as well). “And the eating contest? And the sudden drive to be able to do a backflip?” (That’s #38 and you’re so close to being able to do it.) “It’s like you’re trying to cross off everything on your bucket list in a month.”
“Three months, actually,” you correct Her, pulling the bowl of buttery popcorn towards you.
“Why?”
You shrug, not willing to tell her the truth. “I guess Professor Harding’s philosophy classes just got to me- about two months ago, I started thinking about how mortal everyone is, and it just hit me that I wanted to do everything I want to do as soon as I can, in case something happens.”
Her head has been resting on your shoulder but now She sits up straight. “You asked me out two months ago.”
You shrug. “I did. I’d wanted to for a while, but I guess I was too scared.”
She giggles and nuzzles Her head back into your shoulder. “I’m glad you did. I guess I have Professor Harding to thank for this, then!”
You feel a pang of guilt shoot through your chest, as if you just took a shot of really strong alcohol. She doesn’t deserve this. It’s not Her fault. The two of you are falling in love if you’re not in love already, and in one month and one day you’ll be gone and She will have to live with this.
It’s not Her fault that She isn’t the one who’s secretly dying.
The month is a blur. You cross off everything on your list except for two things by June 10th. You try a cigarette (#18)- you’re asthmatic, but now that you know it can’t kill you after all, you’re willing to try. Suffice to say you can still be hurt, and you spend a solid two hours coughing before vowing to never smoke again. You quit your job with two weeks left to live (#9), and the sense of satisfaction you feel when you tell your overly annoying boss exactly what you think of him in the rudest language you can possibly think of is almost the best thing you’ve ever felt, rivaled only by the way your insides twisted and fireworks went off inside your brain the first time you kissed Her. Finally, all you have to do by June 10 is 49. Go skydiving and 50. Die.
You want to spend as much time with Her as you can (you’ve already said goodbye to your parents, as much as you could without actually saying goodbye at least, you did that yesterday) before your eventual death, so you invite Her to go skydiving with you. She’s terrified of heights but you are in possession of an excellent silver tongue, and before you know it the two of you are in a plane that is far too high for Her liking, each strapped to a skydiving specialist.
She grabs your arm, fear filling up Her eyes. You know She won’t back out unless you do as well, but you won’t back out. “Please,” She says loudly over the roar of the airplane engines. “You don’t have to do everything on your bucket list. You’ve done so much, sweetie. It’s okay, we can still say no.”
You shake your head. “I want to do this.”
Her mouth turns into a thin line. “You and your damn bucket list. I’ll be so glad when this is over.”
It’s time for Her to jump. She and Her specialist ready themselves at the lip of the plane.
You call out to Her, “You’re going to do great. I love you.” And you do.
She rolls her eyes, but a faint smile appears on her red lips. “I love you too.”
Then they jump, hurtling out of the plane at top speed.
You follow their lead a few minutes later. It’s exhilarating. You breathe in a little bit of cloud and you cough, but you’re hardly worried about your lungs as you hurtle through the blue sky with the lush green fields opening up far below you.
It’s exhilarating until your parachute is open, and you look over to your left to see that Her parachute hasn’t.
The next day you stand on the roof of your apartment building, looking down at the busy street below.
This wasn’t how it was supposed to happen.
She was the one who was supposed to comfort your grieving parents, all three of them. It wasn’t supposed to be you giving Her sobbing father a hug this morning, letting him cry into your shirt.
She was going to be the one to remember you. Not the other way around.
In a way you’re kind of relieved; She won’t ever fall in love again and therefore forget all about you. But you loved Her, you loved Her more than anything, and you’d have rathered She survived and loved again than died.
You walked up way too many flights of stairs to get to where you are right now.
Someone notices you, way down below. A shout goes up. There are ants pointing, and those ants are people. You hope that they’ll move out of the way, because you’re not going to be saved by any fire department or sweet-talker. Your time was set three months ago, and your time is in two minutes.
As you take a deep breath, you hear Her last words echo in your brain. I love you too.
“Watch out, world,” you whisper to no one but yourself, your watch ticking to 3:32. “Here I go.”
She died falling, and so will you.
By the time you hit the ground, it is 3:33 on June 11, 2018.
I WAS NOT EXPECTING THIS MY HEART ASFDHEHZGDV
Dear Voltron Fandom (an open letter)
Dear Voltron Fandom,
You don’t know me, but I know you. Before I get into this, allow me to introduce myself so I’m not a stranger. My name is Paiton. I’m 19 years old, and I have high functioning autism, and the character I relate to and love the most is Pidge. I have traversed through many a fandom in my life so far. From Avatar:The Last Airbender, to Sailor Moon, Steven Universe, Disney, you name it! All of these fandoms are loving and wonderful in their own way. However, every fandom has a dark side; It’s just the nature of fandoms, unfortunately. Despite that, I was able to look past that, and be proud to be a part of them! But NEVER have I EVER been more ashamed of being in a fandom when I got dragged into Voltron. Before that, I heard rumors of how toxic the fandom was and all of the crazy stunts some fans tried to pull in order to get what they wanted into the show. So, I tried to avoid the show and its fandom like the plague at all costs.Two months went by and my curiosity got the best of me and I decided to check out the show just to see what all the fuss was about. Turns out I really liked the show and Pidge quickly became my favorite! Hell, I even started a Pidge Ita Bag; just added the first charm to it a couple of days ago! I started out just keeping to myself on my quiet little tumblr blog just reblogging fan art and fics as well as interesting theories and talking to my friends about it. And I can’t forget about buying Voltron fan swag! All was well, despite the occasional bits popping up about the latest fandom disasters. That is up until quite recently. I thought I had seen it all when I had to fight to defend Sailor Moon fans that were being bashed for liking Sailor Moon Crystal or for getting into Sailor Moon in general because of Crystal. I thought I had seen it all when I saw SOULESS Steven Universe “fans” telling an artist to kill herself for drawing Rose Quartz skinny. I thought I had seen it all when I saw the Brony fandom in general. But this….sending death threats to the voice actors and their families, blackmailing the creators in order yo make Klance canon, and a rumor that some antis were burning fanart?! This is absolutely UNACCEPTABLE! To those who participated in ANY of these horrible actions or any other crimes against the fandom, you ought to be ASHAMED of yourselves! Your actions are SHAMEFUL and you should /feel/ ASHAMED. People like you are a disgrace to this and every other fandom out there. You are the reason why the Voltron fandom has such a bad reputation. Now for the sake of this not being me dragging the voltron fandom for the entirety of however long this is going to be, I’m going to play devil’s advocate for a minute or two. I know that not everyone in the Voltron fandom is bad. Hell, my best friend is a Klance shipper and a Lance fangirl and she’s one of the chillest Voltron fans I know! And you want your ships to be canon, I get it. Every fan wants their ship to be canon, weather its a strait, or LGBTQ+ ship. We need more LGBTQ+ representation in…well, pretty much everything really. And it is coming. Its getting there, but its gradual and you have to be patient! “Patience yields focus” , in the immortal words of our beloved Space Dad. But I also understand that fandoms can change things as well. The first example that comes to mind is Kim Possible if any of you reading this are old enough to remember. When Kim and Ron finally got together in the movie that was supposed to be the series finale, the fans flipped every last crumb of their shit and wrote in, demanding another season. And another season they got, ending with Kim and Ron graduating high school. So fandoms /can/ change things, but this…. Blackmail, death threats, is NOT the way to do it! If anything, stuff like that will steer people away from creating representation just because of the sheer mass hysteria it causes within fandoms! Its the toxic people in the Voltron fandom that pull this sort of stuff that steered me away from the show in the first place. To the toxic people in the Voltron fandom who call themselves proud members of the community. You know who you are. I am calling all of you out. You are not fans. You are bullies. Plain and simple. The kind that beat up the little kid with glasses and stuff them in a locker for being a nerd. The kind that steals lunch money in the cafeteria when the teacher isn’t looking. The kind that spread awful rumors about that shy little girl that likes anime, telling her that nobody would care if she died, only worse. You are the very same kind of bullies that I tried to get away from by joining fandoms (supposedly an accepting environment for people who are different and like the same stuff) in the first place. Now I am the kind of person that doesn’t have a temper. However, stuff like this is one of the very few things that get me righteously pissed off. But I don’t yell, or scream, or punch a wall. Instead, I channel that anger into fuel I can use for something else. Which is what made me write this open letter to you, the Voltron fandom. Like I said earlier, not everyone in the Voltron fandom is bad. To all of those that just enjoy the show and respect other people’s ships, or don’t give a dam about ships at all. thank you for being decent human beings and trying to clean up the mess these toxic, souless antis made of our fandom. After seeing all of this I can tell you that I am officially 1000% DONE with this bull. So I am calling the antis out. Consider this a reality check for ALL of you. This is a fucking CARTOON. The people you are shipping so feverishly together are fictional characters. Underline the word “Fictional” as in “not real”. At the end of the day, they are just a bunch of lines and colors moving frame by frame and voiced by real human beings with feelings. They are not above emotions like some of you idiots think they are. When are you going to get it through your tiny brain cases you call heads that how you are acting is childish, immature, and just plain sadistic?! I want to get something strait right now. I do not hate the voltron fandom, not at all. I hate what its become. These horrible antis and haters and toxic people are infecting the fandom like a deadly disease; like a fast spreading plague that causes the slow and painful death of its victum. However, unlike the real Black Plague, there is a cure! And a contagious one at that! So I’m sending out a call to action to every decent human being in the fandom! Those who are here just to enjoy the show for what it is with other people and have a good time, the older fans who got into Voltron: Legendary Defenders because they grew up with the older versions, the Multishippers, those who are respectful of other people’s ships,, or don’t give a dam about shipping at all, as well as those who keep their accounts as safe spaces for all fans. Do your girl a solid and help make the Voltron fandom a better place. Please, be a voice for good. If you see a fan getting harassed by an anti, just politely shut them down. Don’t go full on Leroy Jenkins and fight back, don’t feed the trolls, guys! Just politely tell them to back off and ignore them after that. Then, turn around and try to cheer up the person who got harassed! Share your favorite fan art pieces with them or give them fic recommendations! Who knows, you just might make a new friend! If you see someone you follow on any social media platform doing any of the bullshit I’ve previously mentioned earlier, unfollow them immediately. You don’t need that kind of negativity in your life and neither does anybody else. Let your followers know that your account is a safe space for all decent Voltron fans to geek out and that there is a ZERO TOLERANCE policy for antis. If someone disagrees with you on your ship or theory, politely ask them to explain their reasoning in a civil manner. Get a dialogue going so the whole thing doesn’t turn into an all out screaming match. It can be done, people! It is possible! It just takes a little effort. It may take some time, hard work, blood, sweat, and tears, but I beleive we can fix the fandom if we all work together. Now I also want to take a moment to send a message. To the voice actors of Voltron; Bex taylor Klaus (My Queen), Jeremy Shada, Steven Yeun, Josh Keiton, Kimberly Brooks, Tyler Labine, Rhys Darby, and A.J. Locascio. To the Co-Creators of Voltron; Joaquim Dos Santos and Lauren Montgomery. I am not apologizing for the actions of the toxic part of the fandom (that’s a mess they gotta clean up themselves), but I am speaking for the good part of the fandom and myself when I say that we apologize for what these souless people have put you through. Nobody should ever have to go through that just some people want a small sense of validation in their ship being canon. We love all of you and we hope that you can find it in your hearts to give the fandom a chance to redeem itself. I wrote this in hopes of waking some people up and start to to change things for the better. At least that’s what I hope will come of this rant that I wrote all in one sitting at 4 am. Just know that we all love and respect you and I am going to try my hardest to help change this fandom for the better with the help of my friends and followers, as well as the rest of the fandom that actually has a soul and a conscience. We are going to try and remind everyone that we are all on the same side. We all love the same show and the same characters and the same story. After all, we’re all made up of the same cosmic dust.
signed,
Paiton
the great 2009-2011 percy jackson war
once upon a time in like 2009, i was going to a small school in a small town. two classes for each grade, with about 30ish students in the class as a whole. so two things about this: 1) everyone knew everyone, and 2) we didn’t have that big of a library. of course we had the usual things elementary schools supplied, such as goosebumps and the magic tree house, but seeing as we were almost fifth graders we had to start reading bigger books. which is why we were directed to the YA section of our library. now you see, there were only two good series: percy jackson and harry potter.
2010: by this time, everyone had read either Percy Jackson or Harry Potter. or warrior cats, but that was a seperate group of kids. this is when my spike in interest for Greek myths really hit. i have an old relic from the dark times: my greek mythology research book.
this included top of the line research of the Greek gods.
my most well researched articles are the ones of “Poseido, Zues, Hermes, and Dinoyus.” Of course, Hermes was the messager of the gods and Dinoyus was the wonderful god of “panty.” I also would like to point out that I researched diagrams of mythical creatures,
including that of the Satry. And it’s “goat bot tom.” This wasn’t exclusive to “canon” mythology, so to speak. I had some of the wonderful Rick Riordan characters included, with deep research and polls on which characters were well developed.
Some favorites were Nico De Ang, and Percy Jacuso. And of course, Annabetb. Enough with me, though. This was just the start to what was yet to come.
2011: The Great War. At this time, it’d become a great idea to discuss our favorite literature novels at morning circle. See, the problem is, as younglings, we were always convinced that our book was the best. So arguments began to arise on whether Harry Potter or Percy Jackson was better. Soon, we began to cross the argument line and gather weapons. The Harry Potter fans would take colored pencils from their crayola stashes in the classroom, take safety scissors and shave the sides off. It became an under ground buisness, creating wands from the pencils alongside sillybands. The teachers caught on and despite not being happy, the Rowling Ravages continued as they could. They’d point their pencils wands at people and yell spells like, “ABRA KAVADABRABABA” at the Percy Jackson fans. They, had no clue what was going on. But our side retaliated! At recess, we took sticks and sharpened them into swords. Which didn’t go well with the higher ups. At all. Actually anyone with a sword or a wand immediately got sent to the side at recess. The other ones who were uh, warrior cats fans, would just run around pretending to be cats. It was. They had fun. Good on them.
2012 on: I had left the school battlefield at this point, so I have no clue what happened in six grade. It is a mystery, and always will be. I’m sure the battle still is being fought.
HAPPPPPPPPPY VALENTINES DAY YOOOOOOOO
YOU TOO BRO
we’re 6 months into 2018 and it’s still january
I hope you’re having a wonderful day <3
aw you too anon
Headmistress Minerva McGonagall and Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher Harry, commission for @susannedraws! ❤️
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!
Happy birthday to the most pure-hearted creature in all nine worlds!
*throws glitter at my summer child*
.o. @smartweedbrain SIS SIS SIS
sure, not all men, but a lot of men, and we have no way of knowing which ones
“sure, not all black people, but a lot of black people, and we have no way of knowing which ones.”
This is exactly how you sound.
“sure, not all muslims, but a lot of muslims, and we have no way of knowing which ones.”
lettuce consult the fbi data:
Of the 1,864 women murdered in 2010, 91% were killed by men. (by contrast, of the 3,872 men murdered, only 9% were killed by women). Of all the women murdered (by either sex), over a third were killed by a husband or boyfriend. women have legitimate reason to fear men, even the ones they know.
Of the 3,327 white people murdered in 2010, only 13% were killed by black people. 3% were killed by other or unknown races. white people do not have a statistically legitimate reason to fear other races.
women’s fear of men is based in reality, not bigotry. white people’s fear of other races is based in bigotry, not reality.
This deserves much more than 294 notes
OH MY GOD THANK YOU
donate to my kickstarter so i can build a time machine and
get julius caesar addicted to hentai
seduce cleopatra
“oh but how will you seduce cleopatra?” you might ask because you’re a moron. it’s simple: i’m 6′2″ and i’m fat. fatness was considered attractive back then because if you were fat, that meant you were wealthy enough to get fat. plus, 6′2″ is unreasonably gigantically tall in the BC times.
so cleopatra will be like “a giant? AND he’s got stretch marks?” and she’ll instantly become infatuated with my rotund, hairy body
then i will live in royalty for the rest of my days. kickstarter backers will have their names written in my tomb, baffling archaeologists for centuries to come.
My favorite part of this is that OP didn’t feel the need to explain how he’d get Julius Caesar addicted to hentai.
