#is it pattern recognition or a curse?

[margle]

yesterday I got the wordle in two (after not having done it for months) and thought wow thats lucky I must have good luck today!! and then immediately something very unlucky happened. then today the word was "lucky". im being fucked with I think I have a curse

[letflowersdie]

I need a hero.com

[freckliedan]

ARE you secretly dan? Or Phil? Like. How do you keep winning i cannot explain it any other way

i pretty evenly credit my predictive accuracy to autistic pattern recognition and the inexplicable precognative dreams i have about them sometimes ^_^ <3

[taviokapudding]

My dad and I were chatting before bed when he said "damn shame Republicans hate Democrats too much because you almost saved the United Healthcare ceo"

And I stared at him in confusion until I remembered I convinced Democrats to write the active shooter alert system bill in 2022 & Republicans said no. Since my Twitter is gone, the thread of me @ everyone is gone. And when Trump got re-elected, I removed the video discussing the bill concept for public comments. It fully slipped my mind because I went from pulling teeth & being reluctantly patient to full on cussing, cursing, and hexing the government by the end of 2023.

I hope that Twitter DC staffer is having a good laugh- I bet their bosses are pissed wwwwww

I don't remember the exact wording I wrote to the White House when I cussed out Biden for funding war crimes (2023) & the bill itself (2022) but I did list consequences I foresaw that are happening now, so suck to suck if nobody listened & are on the receiving end of massive hexes

I guess my dad is right, the GOP technically killed Brian Thompson in 2022

[noknowshame]

I don't believe in the devil so you probably can't sell your soul to him but I do believe that if you get famous enough that people start treating you like a two-dimensional character instead of a real human being you run the risk of getting trapped on the other side of the fourth wall and once that happens the narrative can Get You. which is basically the same as selling your soul for fame but who knows

[average-emo-enigma]

Lmaooo guys I photoshopped Luigi mangioni to see if he’d look like Gerard way and it….didn’t work

[akard-kiwi-ao3]

I doubt anyone cares about my insane ramblings about roblox characters like Blocktales Shedletsky. But I do them anyways because i KNOW for a fact that there are literature nerds who will perhaps SEE at least even just a TINY FRACTION of my vision

[eggs-n-ham-sam]

So I was watching church today, and I noticed something...

[verondoid]

he hitting the

The unsung symphony

[frogmood]

I yearn to escape the patterns, yet I am cursed to adhere to them?? a bullshit ???

[amxthystiine]

apparently, not only murder droneverywhere, but Also bee movieverywhere

In-fucking-deed

[truepolymorphed]

My autistic pattern recognition typically ruins movies and shows, but this time, this ONE time, it made it even fucking better. Watching Brennan fail to predict it while shouting “CALLED IT” at the screen. Absolute cinema. You could almost say…

It sent me over the moon

i'm so certain that brennan was so suspicious when that gamechanger filming was """""cut short"""" by a random car alarm, he probably wasn't even entirely surprised when it came time to film round 2. however the absolute fucking DEFEAT when he realizes that he completely failed to predict round THREE is what sent me over the fucking moon

[drdemonprince]

Hi Devon. I’m autistic and I //can’t// deal with injustice it really drives me mad. Even little everyday things. How do you cope with that?

This is going to sound a bit like an older person jadedly lecturing a younger person, so forgive me for however useless this is. But for me, the qualitative experience of learning to cope with injustice is that I have come to expect it through experience and pattern-recognition, and I have been able to contextualize it by developing an understanding of how the world works that leads me to predict that it will happen (and how it will).

Part of what used to keep me locked up and warring constantly with injustice was the false belief that I somehow had the power to prevent it from happening -- if I only used the correct persuasive words, advocated doggedly enough, found the right authority to make an impassioned appeal to, and never relented, I guess I felt that I might be able to make things stop.

Now I understand on an emotional level as well as an intellectual one how much larger these problems are than me, and I don't expect myself to remedy them through force of will or dedication. (A great deal of my book Unlearning Shame is about this, really).

I am far better now at choosing my battles, and more shrewd about how I wage the ones I do fight. I can mentally detach from a lot of issues that feel not strategically sound in resisting, even while mourning the unnecessary-seeming losses that so often come with them. It's possible for this kind of outlook to lead a person into complacency, I can already hear critics saying, but I think ultimately I have become a far more effective and reliable "change agent" (to the degree it's possible for a single human being to be) now that I have this understanding of the world.

Simply put, it is not enough to know what is right, or even to care about it. You have to understand strategy and power. You can't just feel the right feelings. You have to take actions that will matter.

I am also blessed and cursed with an extremely strong self-preservation instinct that predominates any instinct I might have to do the "right" thing simply for the right thing's sake. I don't believe in morality, really, or that I or anyone else must redeem themselves, I am mistrustful of virtually all ideologies (including my own, which have often changed over time), and I try not to act out the emotional urgency of a moment and rather sit back, observe, and plan my attack.

Frankly, a great many injustices in my life have been remedied by simply waiting for the opportune moment, or allowing the people preying upon me to fuck up their lives on their own. That has also taught me the benefit of patience. (Though I am, constitutionally, a really impatient person!)

A lot of my approach reflects my own personal character quirks and outlook as an empathy-less "evil Autistic" of sorts, and it may not suit your way of being in the world at all. But I do think we all can develop better skills in coping with the feelings that this stuff brings out in us with time and practice.

I often remind my highly justice-minded friends to ask themselves whether they want to be right or to win -- and in some cases, you can substitute "winning" with surviving. A lot of the important resistances against injustice that take place happen in the dark corners, unseen by the powers that be, even while unjust systems continue to operate. Think of yourself as a weed or a spore growing within the cracks rather than a lone solider standing up against Goliath.

I think it's also really important to control your exposure to upsetting information. A lot of people whip themselves up into a traumatized frenzy consuming rage porn online all day. You have to sort out what form and degree of information consumption empowers you rather than freezes you. And do not let anybody infect you with their own sense of doom by telling you that you have some obligation to be upset all of the time, that you aren't upsetting yourself enough because you don't care or you're too privileged or whatever. A bunch of people filling themselves with despair does nothing. The universe does not care how much you self-immolate.

And sometimes all you can do is just rant and bitch to a friend about the things you cannot change. Complaining is a fantastic bonding activity, it's a holy activity. It is one of the least damaging acts of rebellion against existence itself. It sure beats killing yourself or drinking yourself into illness. Accept the world as it is, and work with it strategically, please, but never deny yourself the pleasure of bitching about having to do it. As my beloved @animesickos podcast says, Complaining Kicks Ass.

Life fucking sucks. A lot of horrible things will happen to you and the people you love -- nonsensical things, irrational things, spitefully hateful things. You learn with time to expect it. And to feel capable of rolling with life anyway.

There's a grim resolve that people all over the world learn to develop, and it comes with great humor and a capacity for deep connection, too. You learn to recognize it in the strangers you see at the bus stop when the last three busses have been mysteriously delayed or the coworker who has been at your dogshit company for ten years. There's beauty in the jaded ones with the sharp tongues. Huddle around them and take in their wisdom. Some day you might be lucky enough to be one of them too.

[romaevelizz]

Back to You

James “Bucky” Barnes x exhydra!femreader

sum: Bucky finding refuge after D.C from a woman that had been next to him for several years while held in captivity by Hydra.

warnings: cursing, implied past/current relation, violence, angst, hurt-comfort, reader is black coded, bold-italics are russian, reader is kinda mutant(she’s like Vi from incredibles but instead of turning invisible she can heal and create shields).

After D.C Bucky knew he had no choice but to leave, and if there was one thing he was good at was leaving without any trace. He had no money and nowhere to go. One thing he knew he wasn’t going back to Hydra, leaving the country would be the best option.

Maybe he did have somewhere to go, but he had to make sure it was the right place. Few weeks later He’d end up in Romania if there was one thing he was good at it was finding people and he needed to find her, worse that could happen is he got shot.

The clock read 2 a.m., signaling the witching hour when shadows deepen and the world outside holds its breath. An unsettling sensation prickled at the back of her mind, snapping her from sleep. With a jolt, she sat upright in her bed, adrenaline surging as she reached for the rifle hidden beneath her mattress. The air was thick with silence, each creak of the floorboards beneath her feet resonating like a warning as she made her way through her dim, shadowy apartment. As she rounded the corner into the kitchen, an icy chill settled in her veins. There, at her table, sat an enigmatic figure cloaked in darkness. Her heartbeat faltered for a moment, fear clawing at her throat, until her gaze caught the faint glimmer of moonlight reflecting off a metallic arm. Recognition gripped her, sending a wave of dread washing over her as she stood frozen.

“They finally sent you to try to kill me again huh?” She spoke keeping the rifle up to defend herself.

“No.” he answered, “I got out, did it know where else to go.”

She lowered the rifle slowly her eyes watching answering him slowly, “How did you find me.” she questioned.

“I’m good at finding things, and it’s not like you’re hiding.” he answered simply.

She scoffed, “What do you want?”

He could tell she was on edge her tone sharp and protective. “I need help, no money, no place to stay, and can’t go to hospitals for this.” he spoke his voice changing to english as he lifted the shirt up.

A large make shift bandage decorated his abdomen, the cloth bloody and the skin around it irritated. He watched her brows nit together a worried expression fall on her face “What the fuck happend.” she asked walking over to the table placing her gun down on to it.

Their eyes met a small glance being exchanged “alright… you need take that off, I’ll clean it then heal you..” she spoke softly moving from him over to her kitchen to get a rag and warm water.

He nodded quietly, his gaze fixed on her as she moved gracefully around the counter. She appeared transformed since their last encounter. Her hair cascaded down her back inis natural state, significantly longer than he remembered, adding a vibrant touch to her overall look. She radiated a newfound vitality, her skin glowing with health. Intrigued, Bucky took in the intricate tattoo artistry that adorned her left arm; delicate floral patterns twisted and intertwined, each bloom telling a story of its own. A few subtle piercings now embellished her face, glinting softly in the light and enhancing her features. The combination of her tattoos and piercings gave her an air of maturity and confidence that he found striking. He couldn’t help but admire how these changes suited her, transforming her into someone who seemed more self-assured and bold.

“James I need you to remove your shirt or else I can’t help you.” She spoke softly walking around the counter with the bowl and rag.

He did so, slipping the shirt over his head. He always took note of how she called him by his first name, a name that only seemed to be his when she said it. To her, he wasn't ‘Soldier’ or ‘Soldat’; he was James. Her eyes wandered over his figure, a few more scars on him than she remembered his shape the same still big and burly. She felt him flinch under her touch. The sound of his arm moving made her stop. “I won’t hurt you; it just hurts,” he reassured.

She gave him a look before continuing, “To be fair, that last time you showed up in my home you tried killing me gotta get why I’m a little, ya know.” She said frowning.

He pressed his lips together, “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be, I lived. Plus you weren’t, well you.” She hummed, her eyes glancing up at him. “Why are you really here James?” She asked suddenly turning to dip and wring out the rag.

“Because I know you can deal with a bit of a beating and sneak around if you need something. You could’ve very well had this cleaned up what? Days ago when it happened, but instead you let it get infected, and came to me.” Her eyes meeting his as she faced him again.

He remained silent, the words caught in his throat. Deep down, he felt an overwhelming urge—no, a desperate necessity—to see her again. He longed to see the familiar face he had once associated with comfort and camaraderie during the grim days spent in the confines of Hydra. However, that face, once warm and welcoming, now seemed distant and cold, cloaked in shadows of their shared past. Doubt gnawed at him; perhaps this was a mistake after all. As he sat there, a sense of foreboding washed over him, mingling with a flicker of hope.

Her face carried a heavy frown as she looked at him her arms and legs crossed. He remembered when she left, a different doctor cleaning him up instead of her, he recalled asking where she was and instead of an answer he was put under and sent to kill her. He remembered her begging for him to let go of her as she fought back, how after he’d cut her skin would melt back together to heal herself. Her cries and pleas rang through his ears just like everyone else’s but here stood out, the only person in years who cared about him and talked to him like a human instead of a dog, the person who put her energy into healing him day after day, the person who quietly reassured him with a sweet smile on her face when in need, her words always gentle and kind. Then he hurt her, after putting so much trust in him he had hurt her.

He was thankful she’d got away, that she got off Hydras radar. But deep down the world ended when she left. “I don’t know.” He said avoiding her harsh gaze.

“Are you still-“

“No, I’m not in their custody anymore. They don’t know where I am.”

“How are you so sure?” She sneered.

“Because I tore it out,” he spoke up defensively. James had ripped out the chip they put in him, that made sense to the scab on his neck the chip was small and could easily be felt not a surprise it healed easily for it wasn't deep.

“I wouldn't put you in danger again, I can't ever forgive myself for hurting you before, I wont let it happen again.” he mumbled looking down.

He heard her hum before scooting closer to him, “Sit up James.” she said her finger tapping his chin to looks up,

“You can't stop what you can't control James.” She spoke her hands moving to his wound. A soft glow of white can from her hands a tingling sensation lurking around his wound as she heals him.

“I-” she started before closing her mouth.

“I know what you're capable of and in truth it scares me, because I can't get through to you when you're mind is clouded,” she spoke, her eyes focusing on him wound.

James felt his heart shatter into a thousand pieces at her words; the fear etched across her face pierced him deeper than any blade. She had every reason to be afraid—he was a man steeped in darkness, stained with the blood of his past. Her voice broke through the thickness of his thoughts, sharp and clear.

“But I think I understand,” she continued, her tone shifting from trepidation to something almost contemplative. “You’re all alone, just like me. If was so easy to kill Pierce would have done it himself. Instead, he sent you. It’s sickening, isn’t it?” A laugh escaped her lips, a haunting sound laced with both amusement and resignation. It echoed in the dim light, chilling him as it lingered in the air between them.

She shook her head slowly, a deep sense of weight settling over her thoughts like a heavy fog. “They sent the one person I treasured more than anyone else, the person I trusted most—on a mission to take my life.”

Pierce knew it hurt not only her but James as well, he knew she didn't fear death for she had never been close to it. And when she was about to face it flight took over, panic, crying, and screaming. Pierce got the sick satisfaction of having James who would have never laid a finger on her try and kill her, her body under his as he suffocated her his hand crushing her throat as she kicked and screamed. He remembered how her nails clawed at his face, trying to desperately pry his metal hand on of her throat, “Get off, please, please I don't wanna die. You don't have to do this.”

Looking up she saw his lip tremble, tears welding up in his eyes. “James-” she whispered sitting up her hands pulling away from his abdomen.

James hunched over, feeling the weight of his emotions press down on him, his forehead resting against his knees as he wrapped his arms around his head. The defeat in his posture was noticeable, a silent cry for solace that hung heavily in the air. She looked at him, her heart aching, and reached out instinctively, but then hesitated, her hands hovering uncertainly before retracting back to her own lap.

A frown creased her brow, and she absentmindedly began to pick at the delicate skin on her fingers, a nervous habit that surfaced in tense moments peeling the skin from her fingers. Inside, a wave of frustration crashed over her; she mentally chastised herself for bringing the painful topic into the air. Why had she opened her mouth? All she had needed to do was offer him silent support, to be there without the burden of words. She should have just kept quiet, allowing him the space to gather his thoughts without feeling the pressure of their past so obviously weighing down on her.

She took a deep breath before reaching out her hands carefully going to his wrist her body getting closer to him, “ James..” she whispered prying his hands from his head.

She was hurt her protective shield coming off and being harsh towards the broken man. He’d been through so much, his vulnerability spilling out in front of her. He felt safe here, he had no reason to harm her anymore even if he was afraid he’d hurt her again she was all he had. “James.. please look at me..” she spoke desperate for him to look at her.

James slowly picked his head up, her hands moving from his wrist to his face. The way he flinched broke her heart, causing her to pry her hands away, only for him to bring her hands to his face. He melted in the warmth of her touch, her thumbs rubbing his face. “If I could, I’d take it all back… I would’ve taken you with me…” she said, her voice filled with sadness.

She urged him closer. James allowed himself to embrace her his body leaving his chair falling on his knees his arms holding her close as her hands cradled his head. “You promised you wouldn't leave me there by myself..” he broke.

“I know… I know, I'm sorry…” she uttered.

Even after all the feeling of betrayal on both ends, they found each other again, running back to one another like before. Even with the thousands of miles between them, they'd crawl back to each other, she held his heart with such care while captive together. “Let me help you again…” she spoke up pulling his head back to meet his eyes.

James nodded his head tiredly before finding home back in her embrace. It would take both of them time to fully trust each other again but through it all this was the best things he’s done for himself. She kept his word helping him month after month, opening her home to him and helping him adjust to his new found freedom. Two years they would spend together, their fondness for each other never diminishing. Bucky came to terms that he didn’t have to be on edge all the time with her, now sleeping by her side at night.

He never realized how much he needed her till now.

a/n: messy sure maybe i’ll fix it up later but hope u enjoyed!

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

For the blog event, how about Ruggie introducing his granny to Leona? Granny Buchi being a strong/confident women making the best of her situation (plus Leona all around attitude towards women) makes me think he’d respect her.

Leona Granny Killer Kingscholar Part II :v (Part I here!)

Family means Nobody is Left Behind or Forgotten.

“…san………… eo…na… san…… Leona-san!!”

The lion beastman released a growl as he reluctantly pulled himself up. As he rubbed the sleep out of his eyes, his senses readjusted to his environment—the humid warmth of the Botanical Garden, the cool shade provided by a broad leaf, the colors and shapes of the surrounding plants and flowers.

A scraggly boy with a cap of dirty blonde hair stood over him, dressed in the warm yellow vest and armband of Savanaclaw. Leona would know that easygoing smile anywhere.

“You’d better have a good excuse for interrupting my nap, Ruggie,” he grumbled, laying an arm over his knee. His head still spun with distant recollections of an unfinished dream, something about a singing meerkat and a warthog.

"Nishishi, of course I do," the hyena smirked, his ears wiggling excitedly. "There's someone important I want'cha to meet!"

He stepped aside, thrusting his arms out and wiggling his fingers in fanfare. "Ta-daaah! Meet... my granny!!"

"Your... granny?!"

A stooped elderly woman shuffled into view. Fabrics of all patterns and sizes were draped on her small frame, and her sandals were greatly frayed. They told the same story: clothing chosen by necessity and practicality, not fashion.

Her face, withered by laugh lines and crow's feet, told of her legacy without words. Here was a woman who had laughed and cried, struggled and fought, since taking her first breath. She was a survivor.

The woman squinted at Leona (he vaguely recalled Ruggie lamenting that his family was not able to afford vision correction), then smiled. "You're Ruggie's friend the prince, ain't 'cha? It's an honor to meet you, sonny."

On shaking knees, she descended into a bow.

Leona blinked. Called a cursed child by the palace servants, robbed of his right to the throne, he hadn't expected an ounce of recognition from any of his people. Yet here she was, genuflecting to the scorned second born.

"... Raise your head," Leona ordered. "There's no need for that. I'm no king."

"I ain't bowin' to ya because of that! I'm payin' my respects to the man that turned our lives ��round."

“… What’s Ruggie been running his mouth about now?”

“Just the truth! You know me, Leona-san! I’d never lie.” The impish grin on Ruggie suggested otherwise. “You tutor me and give me free stuff—like clothes you don’t want anymore. I even get to bring back extra dough while being a student thanks to babysitting… er, I mean running errands for you! It’s really upped our quality of life.”

“That it?” Leona scoffed quietly. “I don’t need praise for doing so little. This is nothing.”

Improving one family’s life isn’t worth much. Not when there’s so many others that need it too.

“No, Ruggie’s right. You don’t need to be humble,” Granny Bucchi crowed. She placed a hand on Leona’s—and he almost flinched at how small she was, how she shook from old age. "I'm a good judge of character. I don’t believe all the hooey they say about ya. When I look at you, Leona-sama… I know our country’s future is in good hands. I can only hope I live long enough to see it!!”

The elderly hyena laughed at her own dark joke. The laughs quickly devolving into coughing and wheezing, Granny Bucchi nearly folding in half.

“Oi, take it easy,” Leona muttered. He moved an arm behind her to offer support and placed his body in front of the woman, preparing to catch her if it came to that.

“What a gent,” Ruggie snickered, earning a languid look from his dorm leader.

“Only a heartless monster would stand by and let a woman keel over,” he scoffed. “… Hey, you good?”

“I’m fine,” she insisted, brushing him off. “Appreciate the concern, youngster.”

“… Right.” Leona rescinded, as per her request.

“See? What’s I tell ya, Granny? Leona-san has a biiig heart after all,” Ruggie teased. “He helps out little old ladies!”

“Little old ladies?” The lion scoffed, his tail flicking. “Don’t insult your grandmother, Ruggie. This woman single handedly raised you from your diapers. She clothed you, bathed you, fed you, and loved you. She’s resourceful. A survivor. And she made you one too. You owe a lot to this ‘little old lady’—so show her more gratitude than that.”

Ruggie stared at him, jaw open. “Ehhh… You’re seriously gonna lecture me in front of my granny?! You’re so mean to your right-hand hyena!!”

Granny Bucchi hooted. “Hahahah, I like you! You put my Ruggie in his place. Nothin’ like the usual royals. You’re a man of the common folk.”

“Hah.” Leona failed to suppress a chortle. A man of the common folk, huh? “I wonder…”

[the-most-humble-blog]

Humans: The Ultimate Flex—Suck It, Animals and Aliens

Proof We’re the Crown Jewel of Evolution (and Why No One Else Even Comes Close)

Let’s not sugarcoat it: humans are the GOAT species. We’ve got opposable thumbs, complex languages, and the ability to feel existential dread at 2 a.m. over a dumb thing we said in 7th grade. No other species—or hypothetical alien race—has anything on us.

Think I’m exaggerating? Let me prove it with some brain and logic magic that’ll make you want to high-five yourself. Animals? Aliens? They can sit down and take notes.

1. Opposable Thumbs: The OG Superpower

First, let’s talk thumbs. Most animals are stuck with paws, hooves, or tentacles. But humans? We have these magical little appendages that let us write novels, build cities, and scroll endlessly through TikTok.

What Makes Us Special: Our thumbs can touch every other finger, giving us precision grip. That’s why we’re holding smartphones while chimps are still throwing poop.

Think about it: If aliens show up without thumbs, we’re dominating the handshake game.

2. Pattern Recognition: Brain Magic Level 100

Your brain is basically a biological Sherlock Holmes.

You See Faces in Clouds: That’s pareidolia—a fancy way of saying your brain loves patterns so much, it creates them even when they don’t exist.

You Predict the Future: Well, kind of. Your brain analyzes past experiences to anticipate what’s coming next. That’s why you can dodge a falling object or, more importantly, guess the next plot twist in The Bachelor.

Here's a Thought: Meanwhile, a lion can’t even tell that the waterhole is a trap until it’s too late.

3. Language: The Ultimate Mic Drop

Other animals communicate, sure. Dolphins click, bees dance, and your cat meows at you for food. But humans? We’re dropping sonnets, memes, and political debates.

Infinite Combinations: With 26 letters (or however many your language has), we can create endless words and ideas.

Aliens Could Never: If they don’t show up speaking Shakespeare, are they even worth the hype?

Humble Brag: We’re so good at language, we invented emojis to make up for not having enough ways to roast each other.

4. Memory: A Blessing and a Curse

Your brain doesn’t just store information—it rewrites and replays it like a director’s cut of your life.

No Other Animal Remembers Like This: Elephants may never forget, but they’re not lying awake at night cringing over awkward trunk waves.

Your Mind Is a Time Machine: You can travel to the past (memories) and imagine the future (dreams). Animals? They live in the moment like some kind of zen monks.

Fun Flex: Humans can create fictional worlds better than reality. Ever see a dolphin write Game of Thrones? Didn’t think so.

5. Problem-Solving: We Literally Break Physics for Fun

No other species solves problems like we do.

Fire: We didn’t just discover it; we harnessed it.

Tools: We’re the only species that looked at a stick and thought, “Let’s kill something big with this and eat it.”

Space Travel: Meanwhile, most animals don’t even understand up and down.

Alien Diss: If they haven’t figured out intergalactic travel yet, are they really that advanced?

6. Humor: The Ultimate Sign of Intelligence

Here’s the big one: humans laugh.

Why It’s Special: Humor requires recognizing absurdity, connecting ideas, and delivering them with timing.

No Competition: Animals might look funny, but they’re not cracking jokes.

Weird Thought: If aliens can’t meme, do they even matter?

7. Consciousness: The Unbeatable Crown

You’re aware of yourself. You can ask questions like, “Why am I here?” and then immediately distract yourself with cat videos.

No Other Species Has This Level of Meta: Animals act on instinct. You can reflect on your actions—and cringe at them later.

We are our Brain: Sure, consciousness makes us anxious, but at least we’re not stuck chewing cud and staring at nothing.

Humanity Wins, Every Time

So, yeah. Are humans perfect? No. But are we leagues ahead of anything else on Earth—or in the universe (so far)? Hell yes. Our brains, thumbs, and ability to crack dark jokes about it all make us the species to beat.

Animals? Cute, but predictable. Aliens? Call us when they invent sarcasm. Until then, humanity reigns supreme.

Think humans are awesome? (Of course you do—you’re one of us.) Follow The Most Humble Blog for more unapologetic takes and hilariously sharp insights into why we’re the best.