A man grabs another man by the shoulder with intense seriousness and says "if I die please do NOT clear my search history." He leans in closer and says "I want to people to know what I was into." The other man, with trepidation asks "is it... bad?" The first man leans in close with an melancholic but demonic expression and says "no, it is baffling."
Your mom was able to correctly identify one of my bones as female last night so idc what an archaeologist thinks
If you stopped wearing a mask, you can start again!
I know there can be a feeling of once you stopped, even if you know you should restart, there's guilt from stopping, but look.
It's better for you, and everyone you know to restart wearing that mask. Strangers probably don't know if you stopped.
Tumblr user accidentally came up with the pitch meeting for The X-Files
Chomsky: As instinctive language defines human nature, is not sex with a werewolf — a beast of wordless lusts — the ultimate fantasy we all share?
Foucault: I must disagree. It is class power which shapes us all, and as such, submission to the supernatural evil of the vampire is the most erotic act
Before you say something mean about Henry Kissinger, take a breath and see if you can think of something meaner
The staticky points that comprise the texture of the walls and ceiling darken in some areas; They loop around and coalesce around a column of dark energy emanating from the man's bed. The points arrange themselves into tendrils surrounding a central core. The points in the central core expand into large scratchy abyssal circles. The man stands on his bed, transfixed by the largest abyssal circle. It draws him in. Inviting him.
Page 10
creature
The man flits backs and forth between images of hell static and the dark clarity of anger's flame. He thinks to himself "and so I have come to rely on these moments of rage. They are the only things that situate me within time and space. The only proof of reality. And this rage is not like my enemy's rage, which is without thought or discipline. Their rage is directed toward the world at large, but mine is pure, focused, contained... Theirs is born from an eternal and cancerous hatred. Mine is solely directed at curing the injustices visited upon me. Anything beyond that would turn me into them... Once my taske is complete, my rage will subside. But there is no limit to theirs. That is the difference. That is why I'm allowed to feel this way...
Page 7
Anyone know if this is real?
In this work, I shall pour my hatred, my malice, my desire for revenge. A vista of static yields to three large figures marching confidently.
Photo of a white cat laying on a pillow that looks like bread, with a round yellow toy on her back so she looks like an egg on toast.
Can confirm, works quite well. Please enjoy this egg on toast.
in shock that I got this username, no numbers or anything