#the story of humanity

[yeepof]

I understand that tall men are our POV characters, but surely being like a foot taller than everyone around them would have some occasional consequences

[crow-caller]

as a child there's nothing cooler than a kid who gets subjected to evil experiments and gains special abilities. it's even cooler if these abilities also cause unfathomable suffering to use/against others. children love stories like this.

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

License to Kitty.

[bloodraven55]

i’ve seen too many people arguing that marcille was already a full grown adult when she went to school at 35 despite literally all of the canon evidence indicating otherwise

[wasabi-gumdrop]

local ladies man’s signature move totally useless against autistic monster enthusiast. more on Kabru’s fumble era at 6

[qiinamii]

we'll do fine.

[troythecatfish]

[stars-obsession-pit]

“Mom, why do you think ghosts are intrinsically evil?”

“It’s what the science says, of course!”

“No, I mean like, what were the studies? What did they actually observe”

“Ohh, I get what you mean, Danny! Well across all reputable reports of encounters with the ghosts strong enough to matter, they’ve always attacked first and never responded to attempts at communication! There’s no reason for them to do that if they’re not evil!”

“Huh…”

…

Danny, learning about Ghost Speak and how humans can’t understand it: hmm.

Danny, learning that ghosts greet each other and bond by fighting: hmmm.

[pen-of-roses]

Do y'all ever think about how cool it is that art inspires other art inspires other art inspires other art in an endless cycle

[catchymemes]

This was posted on a ‘second hand finds’ Facebook page…

…only to be followed by this amazing message.

The roller coaster ride started.

With a happy ending…

…and a sweet poem to finish.

[foldingfittedsheets]

When my mom was growing up she lived downtown in a city, but her home abutted a golf course. She and her siblings would sneak through a hole in the fence that they definitely made. They’d wade into the pond and water traps after hours and take away buckets of filthy muddy algae covered balls.

They’d take them home and clean them up until they were shining and white again. Then they’d trek out to the entrance of the course the next day and sell them back to golfers for a little cheaper than they could buy balls elsewhere.

I was utterly delighted by this story as a kid myself, relishing that my mom and her siblings were duping the golfers into buying back their own balls. But as an adult it’s like- of course. No one else was gonna wade into the muck for them anyway, everyone wins.

[flintpunks-mind]

A co-worker of mine was standing outside with me during a break from customers to share a cigarette with me, and told me about how he had lost his brother that he was close with some years ago. He told me about how they used to be in a band together with some friends, and how ever since he'd died, he hadn't played any music because he'd been too scared and anxious. I told him about how I'd lost my brother to suicide some years ago.

I went home and pulled out an old tiny wooden box my brother had given me before he'd died. I'd been using it to store guitar picks I'd collected over the years, including one guitar pick that used to be his. I haven't played the guitar since he'd died, my hands are too small to play some of the chords, so I play bass and piano instead.

I went to work the next day and gifted my brothers old guitar pick to my co-worker. I told him that it'd been sitting in a box for ten years unused, and would probably sit there for longer if I kept it there. Told him that I thought he deserved to have it, because I bet he could put it to better use than I ever would. Told him I didn't feel like it was coincidence that me and him would cross paths with each other in our lives, and that it seemed suiting that we had these similar experiences but split in two halves. That somehow, I felt like he was meant to have the guitar pick. I told him that I knew he'd not played guitar since his brother died, but that if he ever decided to play again one of these days, maybe he'd be able to honor both of our brothers by using that guitar pick.

He almost cried. He thanked me. Then he went home that night and for the first time in years he played the guitar.

I don't know what the meaning of life is or what my purpose is, but I do believe that love and human connection is one of the most important things in life. It's finding ways to tell strangers you love them and share experiences with others. I think it's all just about love.

[liyrical]

(jjk266) confession

[the-unseen1]

The Seeker and the mysterious Stranger (Part 1 of 7)

Part 1: That one strange guy who suddenly turned up, telling weird stories about mohawks

Deep within a dark forest, the Seeker sits alone on a bench. He has been waiting there, since a very long time. His absent gaze, staring into the nothingness, is suddenly interrupted, as he hears a voice that seems familiar and unknown at the same time:

“I'm sorry for taking this long,” the mysterious stranger speaks with a calm voice.

“Do I happen to know you,” the Seeker asks confused. Their head remains unmoved.

“No,” the mysterious stranger chuckles. “But it's about time. Do you mind, if I sit right next to you?”

The Seeker keeps their stare undeterred. “I have reserved this spot for someone else. Find yourself a different bench.”

Despite the Seekers request, the mysterious stranger places himself next to them.

“...Why are you even asking, if you sit down anyway,” the annoyed Seeker sighs with a puzzled face.

The mysterious stranger clears his throat: “Have you ever heard the story of the sick man, searching for a healer with a Mohawk?”

“No... Like... What even is this question? And why are you still sitting here... Get the Fuck away from here...”

“There was a man who was suffering,” the mysterious stranger begins his monologue undeterred. “He longed for a cure, so he consulted an oracle. 'Look for the healer who wears a Mohawk hairstyle,' said the oracle. 'He alone will be able to heal you.'

So the Sick Man went out looking for the healer with the Mohawk. He visited every village, searched under every stone and behind every tree. But nowhere did he find the healer with the Mohawk. Years passed and one day he heard of a hermit on a mountain who could cure any disease. No one knew what he looked like and the Sick Man hoped the hermit wore a Mohawk. So he climbed the mountain and found the hermit in a lonely hut. When the sick man saw the hermit, he was disappointed because they turned out to be bald. The hermit asked the sick man why he had undertaken the arduous journey. The sick man told him about his suffering, about the oracle and his long search.

'I know where you will find the one who can heal you,' said the hermit. 'But my wisdom comes at a price. My head is bald and at night it gets cold up here. Donate me some of your hair and I will show you the way.' The sick man was willing to pay any price, so he allowed the hermit to cut his hair. The hermit shaved the patient's hair on the left and right sides. However he did not touch the hair in the middle. 'Now go to the fish pond over there,' spoke the hermit. 'There you will find the one who can heal you.'

The sick man could hardly wait. He ran to the pond and looked into the reflecting water. Finally, he found the one wearing a Mohawk.

'Can you free me from my suffering?' he asked the fish in the water."

The Seeker remains unmoved. “Ok... Very funny joke... Will you leave now?”

“Let me ask you, dear Seeker... How far did you ever get by waiting?”

For a moment the Seeker is lost in thought. When did they tell the stranger their name? They shake their head: “I'm waiting for a teacher, who will show me the path. So get lost... I don't have time for your silly shenanigans.”

Suddenly the mysterious stranger burst out in laughter. After noticing, that the Seeker doesn't join his laughter, his face turns serious: “Wait... You are actually serious, aren't you? I'm sorry to break it to you, but this teacher you are waiting for, will never come.”

“You can't know this for sure,” the Seeker argues offended. “My teacher could arrive any minute now.”

“Why do you need a teacher to lead you on your path,” the mysterious stranger questions. “It's your life, it's your path, it's your journey. Which teacher knows you so well, that they can navigate you?”

The Seeker grins condescendingly. “You can't fool me. I can see right through you. You will now be telling me, that you are the teacher, I have been waiting for. I am not falling for any of these tricks!”

The mysterious stranger smirks. “Ah, you got me all wrong. I don't want to be your teacher. I don't want to be your leader, your guru, your doctor, or your Mailman...”

“...Mailman?” The Seeker asks confused.

The stranger continues undeterred: “I have no interest whatsoever to play the role of your guide. I just simply want to be your friend. Two equals, who want to undertake the same journey. Walking side by side. Two friends, who share the same dreams, concerns and goals. Finding out the path together.”

“So you don't know the path either,” the Seeker concludes disappointed. “I'd rather continue sitting here, waiting until someone comes, who actually knows where to go.”

“Alright,” says the mysterious stranger. “I will wait here with you.”

“There's no need for you to stay here,” the Seeker urges with a nervous smile. “You go ahead. I'll be alright on my own. Nevertheless... I have enjoyed this 'interesting' conversation... Goodbye now.”

“Nah,” the stranger answers unmoved. “When your teacher appears, I'll get up... So while we are waiting here, do you want to hear another joke or should we rather discuss the fate of Humanities self-destructive patterns?”

For a short moment there is an awkward eye contact between the Seeker and the Stranger. Suddenly, the Seeker breaks the silence:

“...The fate of what....?!”

It was at exactly this moment, that the Seeker realized, that they were trapped.

TO BE CONTINUED

[bizarrelittlemew]

i can't wait to be 30+ and still in fandom and i can't wait to be 40+ and still in fandom and i can't wait to be 50+ and still in fandom and i can't wait to be 60+ and still in fandom and i can't wait to be 70+ and still in fandom and i can't wait to be 80+ and still in fandom and i can't wait to be 90+ and still in fandom and i can't wait to look back on my life and know that i loved things deeply and passionately and was inspired to create and was part of communities with incredible people from all over the world brought together by the stories that touched us

[akanemnon]

We didn't even get an answer, and we never will (at least it's not determination)

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