and i saw heaven

I saw Markiplier, and walked right passed him. Here's why. Wuteva u dont care. Okay.

I am the world’s stupidest fuck. God gave a damn lemon more scence than he did for me.

One day, I was using my stupid, noodle legs for a walk. And guess wut? It was a god, a legend, an angel that fell down from heaven.

It was @markiplier. I saw him. Me, myself and I, saw Markiplier, and never put that name in vain.

Mark had his hair newly dyed RED. Last time I saw him, his hair was BLUE. Therefore, I didn’t recognize the man.

I thought to myself, *wowwie! He looks quite familiar!* but not familiar enough for my blind eyes! I -walk- right passed him.

I didnt know who the frick he was.

But it was the god, the legend, the angel that feel down from heaven, Markiplierrrr…

I will never forgive myself. I don’t know why I haven’t noticed until now. My life is an illusion.

A pretty dumb one too.

I moved to the easten side of the U.S and currently in New Jersey. That ONE AND ONLY TIME I CAN GO TO LOS ANGELES, I BLEW IT. FML.

Be with me always—take any form—drive me mad! only do not leave me in this abyss, where I cannot find you! Oh, God! it is unutterable! I can not live without my life! I can not live without my soul!

favorite whouffaldi moments 3/∞

Not atheist and I love God. I know in what corner He is. I can find Him, like a teenage girl who knows where to place the mascara. The path to His heart is simple; with laughter you can find it. He does not have a closed face. He does not have hellfire. He does not torture people. He does have not dark designs. For those who stay up late at night, He is a blanket and stars. For the thirsty, He is a stretched river. He has the smell of an orchard dew. He carries the goodness of the resigned. This is God. The God I grew up with; the One who reared me. I laughed in His face when I saw heavens is but a friendly chat. He took me by the hand… I do not know where He took me…. This is the God I talked to and He talked to me. He told me: laugh and love the people, you will find me. He told me: in the ecstasy of the lover, you will find me. He told me: in the perplexity of the maltreated, you will find me. He told me: when you are eager, carrying a heavy load, look at it carefully, You will find the traces of My arms. If you do not like a branch on a tree, oh eager soul, I will forget you and I ask you kindly to forget Me. If you hate Me, I will not blame you. I will not hate you if you love another Lord. Be safe and happy. Go, leave Me. I will be with you. I will open my Heaven and I remain waiting for you. If you want to pray, not pray, I will not force you. Why are you afraid of Me? You were the work of My hands, I will not break you. I will not torture you, humiliate you, nor shun you. If you want to live alone, live alone. If you want to leave, leave. If you want to come, I am waiting. This is God. The God I knew with the eagerness of children. I knew Him in the greenness of trees. I knew Him in the tear of a perplexed one. Before He was disfigured by some. They made Him seeking vengeance. Why? Why did God become a result? A reaction reserved specifically for the one who prays? Between hell and heaven? He is a tent of dew in the summer for the poor. He covered anyone with warm heart. God in the world is victory. God is a house and a place for the homeless. God is a matter of choice. I am against all temples, all mosques, all churches, when they make God a business. I am against the religion that connects the greatness of God with a minaret. I am against the first teacher who said to me, read the opening chapter, you will get a women and a long river of wine. I declare my withdrawal from the old traditions and the new traditions; from the faces that said God is fearsome; His hellfire never subsides. I have such a heartache that can put the world on fire like a cigarette. Because of you, my contemplation is enormously large. The ache in my heart is a whole poem. My wound like a cave. I am suffocating. Yes, suffocating! I feel the world has no tales of love. I feel religion remained everywhere; like a tear in a shirt still unstitched. I began to think and doubt people, when I found the man who prays is a thief. When I saw the woman who visits the holy places… the palms of her hands are but mouths… when I saw God stolen from the face of a child… I saw the fasting man who is afraid of a gulp of water but his eyes rape all the women in the market. - Adham `Adil

Ok so I said to myself I was gonna wait to buy online the english version it’s useless haha but I saw this gift from heaven (Yoneda sensei’s my goddess for real) in a french shop and I think I nearly screamed, I looked at my bro who understood immediately and said “BUY IT” (I love him too much) so I couldn’t wait and did it and now omg I’ve got this gorgeous masterpiece in my hands and I couldn’t be more glad.

I love Yoneda sensei as well as all of the Saezuru’s fandom, I’ve never really involved myself with it because I’m sometimes too shy but I would like to. So thanks everybody for having been so active in this fandom until now and Yoneda Kou as well for everything she’s been doing. Kisses to you all :)

Seven Minutes In Heaven (With Seventeen)

Summary: A simple little party in someone’s basement while their parents weren’t home. A simple little game meant for horny preteens trying to get to second base. It’s not supposed to be make or break for your heart, right? Right? Fluff. Multi-chap. 

(A/N: Okay, so I don’t know if any of my followers remember Quizilla. But Quizilla was my first ever fanfiction website. And long before I was writing fanfiction and posting it there, I was reading. And obviously, with a name like Quizilla, the primary formatting of their website was quizzes. This meant that the fanfic writers there actually came up with something very creative - a choose your own adventure style fanfic, usually seven minutes in heaven. I saw these everywhere. If you were in a fandom at the time then there was a 99% chance that a seven minutes in heaven quiz existed for that fandom. Most of the ones I read at the time were about Harry Potter. So anyway I’ll probably explain more about this concept if asked, but I think you’ll get it as you go along. If you have read the Quizilla ones then you’ll get it right off the bat. I’ve always always always wanted to do one of these and I thought Seventeen was the perfect fandom to do it for. I’m gonna have so much fun with this. I think the only warnings are under aged drinking and light promiscuity?? Whatever have fun reading. This is just the prelude before all the individual members parts, but I do recommend reading for set up. -Tanisha<3)

You got invited to parties like this more often than you went to them. You found it more boring going out like this than anything. Your friend group had an odd mixture of people who were of the drinking age and just under, leaving you all with an odd conundrum - the older ones buying alcohol (never anything too heavy) and simply watching in amusement of how the younger ones couldn’t hold their illegal booze. This always gave these parties a distinctly ‘teenage’ vibe. Usually in someone’s basement, or in a dark backyard when parents weren’t home, with Top 40 music blasting in the background for people to embarrass themselves to.

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been listening to a lot of civil-war and before appalachian and southern folk lately and thinking–

you know, one of the things about the divine comedy is its simplicity, its almost-pastoralness, juxtaposed with all this other high-flown stuff, rhetoric and theology and history and philosophy and biology and everything else imaginable. all this learning, all this complex didacticism in the best of the medieval tradition– but look, see the starlings in winter, the fireflies in summer. see how beautiful, see how grand, see how god is in the good earth and the endless sky, in the wide river and the prairie plains. 

it’s sweet and coarse, this kind of writing, this kind of rough, vernacular, melodic speech. even in english it’s like a song.

i think that’s why dante’s poetry– not just the divine comedy, but the other stuff too– endures so. there’s something rustic and old, but common to anyone who’s ever lived out there. the grandeur, the glory of god does not exist in the cathedral of the city or the galleries of the state, but in the hills of the wide country, in the mud of the river-bottoms, in the sun and the sky and the endless, golden light across the fields at five o’clock in autumn. 

i grew up hearing a song called shenandoah, which is a shanty-slash-work-tune that originated in the 1840s and was widespread in the south by the time of the civil war. it’s got a similar sense to it:

oh shenandoah, i long to see you
and hear your rolling river
oh shenandoah, i long to see you
away, we’re bound away
across the wide missouri

i long to see your smiling valley
and hear your rolling river
i long to see your smiling valley
away, we’re bound away
across the wide missouri

tis seven years since last i’ve seen you
and heard your rolling river
tis seven years since last i’ve seen you
away, we’re bound away
across the wide missouri

shenandoah, most people think, is the name of a virginian native chief with whose daughter the speaker is in love– but in later versions, with different lyrics, it becomes something different. see, shenandoah is the promised land, the river-valley of love, the heart of god. the melody has this heart-rending beauty in the way that only certain nineteenth-century folk songs do, music that was sung by generations of trappers and traders, barge-sailors and slaves, all with this thought in their minds of somewhere else, somewhere sweeter, across the wide missouri. the thought of starlings in the sky, of fireflies in the dimming dusk.

i guess the point of this is that dante seems to understand more than anyone else that god is in the old country, from tuscany to missouri– that the heart of divinity doesn’t lie in philosophy, or theology, although those have their place. no, we find god in the good earth, in shenandoah, the river-valley for which we pray. no symphony is more beautiful than the songs sung to till the fields. no treatise is more learned than the poetry which is spoken to the river at sundown.

there is no greater god than this.

i’ve read the divine comedy many times; seven hundred years make not a whit of difference. look, it says: you know this, and i do. i do. i have stood in the green guadalupe, beneath a sky of clear and cloudless blue, and i have prayed to the virgin with my feet in the mud and my face to the sun. i have wandered the river-bottoms and climbed the bending cyprus. i have watched for deer at dawn. 

i have prayed for shenandoah, and i have known this too.

Little rant…

Before I even knew about simblr I’d play my game with so much joy. Make myself and my crush like everyone else does and actually play. I didn’t know much about cc/mods because everything I downloaded was from
I loved my game.
Once I found out about simblr and saw all the cc/mods, I was in heaven. Loooking at everyone’s amazing sims, realistic looking sims made me want to download all the CC I could fine in hopes my sims would look better.
I figured out how to add cc and my game looked amazing to me. I wasn’t getting many notes on my posts but I didn’t care, I loved my new sims.
I made my simself and John’s simself and decided to make a little story with them, then eventually created my simumblr.
My simumblr took off a lot faster than I thought it would. I felt a lot of people liked me and my sims because they would like or reblog my posts.
I was ecstatic.
Soon people would message me about collabing, people who I didn’t even know. People who hadn’t been following me for long. People who had never even seemed to care about my posts. Some people I’d say yes to because I’m actually a nice person and I remembered the days I was in their shoes and wanted someone to show that they liked my sims. Once I collabed with those people I never heard from them again.
I felt like they wanted to collab to get their sims shown to my followers and maybe get more followers themselves, it sucked.
Sooo! I switched gears and started rping and promised myself I’d only share my sims with people I’d actually written with. It went well until I realized there was a hive/clique mentality and if one person didn’t like you the rest of their hive/clique didn’t like you.
After soooo many arguments and feeling shitty over ships that didn’t work, I went back to my simumblr but it wasn’t the same. It seemed like now simumblr had cliques and people only talked to you if you were in their cliques, which doesn’t lead much room for making new friends.
I tried to go back over to twitter rp but again cliques.
I know I was in a clique before but my group actually talked to everyone. Idk… just my thought on how I ended up here. Not wanting to post, not wanting to play.

cliques are making simblr/twitter roleplay seem not so fun.
I feel left out a lot in this community.
I’m probably quitting sometime soon.

Another note, it seems like people only wanna fuck with you if you make CC. Which sucks too because not many people know how.

Again, idk.

The Closest to Heaven

@bringmesomepie56 saw I had opened up to aesthetic ideas based on songs and she came up with this:  Iris by The Goo Goo Dolls Dean x Reader Give to a listen. It’s a good representation of Dean and how I feel he would be with the woman that he really loves.

Dean would never have a normal life, his illusions of that left him long ago. He had never thought he would have, someone like her in his life either. From the first time he had met her, he hadn’t wanted to leave. He wanted to stay in her bed, feel her warmth and breathe her in.

Dean had always been afraid to show people who he really was. It wasn’t just his life that scared people away, it was him. He was damage and he knew that. What he hadn’t expected was her. Someone that saw through his walls and lies, someone that loved him for who her was. Someone he wanted to know, who he really was beneath it all. She was the closest to heaven that he would ever be and he was not about to let her go. He would be the man she deserved and her never stopped being amazed by her acceptance and love.

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Day Nine

Okay, so big thanks to @jupiterqueen42​ (who is one of my favorite blogs omg I died and went to heaven when I saw this go check them out) who prompted today’s fic!

Summary: A Sleepless Night With Phil Part Six Sick Baby edition. 

Genre: Fluff

Words: 1.6K

Warnings: Talk of minor illness in babies (cold and asthma) but nothing bad happens

Author’s note: Again, thank you so so so much for the prompt! I don’t know if you guys know this, but getting propmts really makes my day. ^_^ You can make my day right here if you want ;D Also, this fic has my OC kid Zach in it so if you want to see the first fic he’s in just click here

10:27 P.M.

The video started, and Phil waved at the camera.  “Hey, guys!” he whisper-shouted. His eyes were tired and a shadow of concern and stress darkened the area underneath. “Welcome to A Sleepless Night With Phil Part, what part are we on? Like six, right? We’ll go with six. This is a very special edition because I’m going to have a special guest with me!” He paused here to give a wide smile and a thumbs up. “Back by popular demand, Zach will be spending the night awake with me, but not really by choice. See, a couple days ago Zach started showing symptoms of a cold and since this will be his first ever, Dan and I obviously rushed him to the doctor but she said he would be fine but to come back if his fever reached 38.5 degrees. Fortunately, his fever peaked this afternoon at 37.8 and has been steadily dropping so he’s gonna live. Of course, he’s always had trouble sleeping through the night because of asthma, so he’s even fussier with a stuffed up nose. Dan literally hasn’t had more than a fifteen minute nap since Zach first started showing symptoms, so I’ve banished him to bed and I’m on Baby Duty. Let’s go check on Zach, shall we?”

10:40 P.M

The video jumped to Phil standing in a nursery with a clearly very tired and cranky infant nestled into his chest. “So, it looks like Zach isn’t doing too hot but he’s better than before and his breathing is still pretty even so we’re doing loads better, right, Zach?” At the sound of his name Zach let out a soft little baby noise but otherwise ignored his father who grinned like the sun. “Okay, so one thing the doctor told us to do is to make like a little baby sauna for him so basically we’re gonna go to the smallest bathroom in our house and I’m gonna turn the shower on super hot and we’re just going to sit there for a bit while the steam helps unstuff Zach’s nose. Unfortunately, this camera probably isn’t waterproof, so I can’t take you guys with us so we will see you in fifteen minutes!”

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