she should be big

I’m running a canned campaign in a sci-fi setting

Totally not-shady NPC: I’ll need you to retrieve my secret cargo from the abandoned spaceship, but it’s very private, so don’t look inside–

Player: Is it a girl in a box?

NPC: …What?

Player: This is a sci-fi story, and there’s a box you don’t want us to look into. There’s only ever one way that ends, and it’s always with a girl stuffed into a box.

Other Player: Hey, we don’t even know how big it is. It could just be a cigar box.

First Player: Okay, you’re right. It could be a bunch of sex toys. How big is the box?

NPC: It’s… uh… six feet long by three feet wide by three feet deep…

First Player: Ugh. Okay, fine. Somebody pack a crowbar and a spare set of women’s clothing. We need to go get this girl out of her box.

Different ways to draw trolls: A Chart

Tag where you’d be

7

a lot of fuckin crumbs man 

and maybe some pearl points she was saving too

3

how old do you have to be before you no longer have the compulsive need to quote spongebob?

also because my brother requested something more traditional:

3

DARK MATTER | 1.12 | Three, Four & Five

I already have a student.

7

Jean-Michel Basquiat and Madonna photographed by Stephen Torton, 1982.

Madonna and Basquiat dated for a while, but his heroin addiction ended up pulling them apart. “He was an amazing man and deeply talented. I loved him,” she said. “When I broke up with him, he made me give all [his paintings] back to him. And then he painted over them black.” She regrets giving the art back, but felt pressured to do so since it was something he had created. (The Howard Stern Show, March 2015)

Madonna: “Basquiat was my boyfriend for a while, and I remember getting up in the middle of the night and he wouldn’t be in bed lying next to me; he’d be standing, painting, at four in the morning, this close to the canvas, in a trance. I was blown away by that, that he worked when he felt moved. And they gave jobs to everyone. Keith would meet kids on the street and ask them to come stretch his canvases for him. Basquiat had every B-boy and every graffiti artist in his loft. He was constantly giving everything away. I think they felt guilty that they became successful and were surrounded by people who were penniless, so they shared what they had. They were incredibly generous people, and that rubbed off on me. You stay inspired that way. I could never work in a recording studio where you have this lovely view and a beach and the waves are crashing. For me, it’s all about being in a tiny room with little windows. It’s almost like you have to be in a prison. And you can create beauty when you’re in that sort of deprived environment, which is a re-creation of your formative years.”

“I remember having conversations with Keith [Haring] and with Basquiat about the importance of your art being accessible to people,“ she recalled. “That was their big thing—it should be available to everyone. It was so important for Keith to be able to draw on subways and walls. And Basquiat used to say to me, ‘You’re so lucky that you make music, because music comes out of radios everywhere.’ He thought that what I did was more pop, more connected to pop culture than what he did. Little did he know that his art would become pop culture. But it’s not like we really had discussions about the meaning of art. I remember hearing them talk about those things.”

(Interview Magazine, December 2014)

  • My roommate starting red queen: God dammit, so she's gonna end up with the prince.
  • Me: honey, there are two, be more specific.
  • Her: the prince, the one who's probably made of gay rainbows.
  • Me: ...... do you mean the younger one...
  • Her: Not that one. I really want the tall one, the really tall one, to be with the fish boy, and for them to adopt all the cute little babies in the world and just fill their lives with gay rainbows that warm the hearts of anyone in their presence.
  • Me: he's not even the bisexual one.
  • Her: Well why the hell cant they both be bisexual?!
  • Me: ...point taken.
  • *the lab*
  • Sherlock: *sulking*
  • Molly: *working* It's all in your head, you know.
  • Sherlock: *frowns* No. He's got it in for me.
  • Molly: *chuckles* He's a cat.
  • John: *confused* What's the matter?
  • Molly: *rolls her eyes* Oh, Sherlock's declared war on Toby. He thinks he hates him. I've told you not to antagonise him.
  • Sherlock: *through gritted teeth* And I've told you, when we're in bed, the only pussy I want to see is the one beneath your nightie.
  • John: *mortified* I swear to GOD.
  • Sherlock: Swear all you like; won't stop being true.

“If you can’t stop them in time, you can say goodbye to about a quarter of the world’s population. Any questions?”

The Flash raised his hand.

“Flash, I’ve told you before, you don’t have to raise your hand,” Batman said.

“Right, sorry,” the Flash said, lowering his arm. “I was just wondering why you have a baby?”

“I don’t.”

Batman was clearly holding a very small child in one arm. She had plastic barrettes in her braids, and was wearing a pink tutu. Her shoes were bedazzled.

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`、ヽ  `ヽ`⚡ ヽ`、  ヽ``、  
a thunder shower makes for a cozy hour 

The companion piece to Himawari’s room. And another collab between ammeja (who did the incredible drawing) + me (who did the animation)! Everyone could use a good thunderstorm and blanket fort every now and then ⚡ 

On-Air | Vernon/Hansol (I)

Originally posted by sneezes

genre: fluff, comedy, slight angst, college au | vernon x radio personality!reader
summary: under the pseudonym Honey, you are the host of the most popular radio show in the city called Honey Time Radio where you give advice about relationships, school, and life in general. when it comes to your own love-life, however, you don’t have the best luck, and you don’t even follow your own advice! so what happens when you get a call from a listener who’s asking you advice on how to get to your heart?
word count: 2880
a/n: oh my god i was stuck between wanting to write this for vernon, wonwoo, or woozi for the longest time, but ultimately decided vernon. i hope it fits him well! warnings include swearing, mentions of alcohol, and that it’s an extremely dialogue-heavy fic. as seen on my ao3

part ii


“Good evening, everyone. It is 9:48 on a Friday night and I am but twelve minutes away until I am free and only an hour and twelve minutes away until I have a drink in my hand. If you’re just tuning in, then you just missed my totally normal conversation with caller number three about her recurring ‘sock on the door handle’ dilemma with her roommate,” you sigh into the mic as a nostalgic smile appears on your lips. “I didn’t think people still do that stuff! I haven’t heard of a sock on the knob since my freshman year in college. You’d think people would be courteous enough to just shoot you a text, but nope, they can’t even do that, huh? Caller number nine, what do you think?”

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