behold, SCIENCE

Slushiebox

I can’t stop drawing bnunnies

the bride and her ugly ass groom......

one of my fav games

I'll give this much to Americans: we really are impossible to satirize.

#living here is like living in a cartoon #but none of the fun ways

My fursona is a centaur that’s half horse and half horse fursona

Hello there!

You’re my nemesis now

We ask your questions so you don’t have to! Submit your questions to have them posted anonymously as polls.

okay this might be a potentially embarrassing thing to admit but

until like, my mid 20s I literally had no idea you were supposed to eat instant ramen like a soup?? because I grew up in a single parent household that was Dirt Fucking Poor and my mom would always cook two packages of crushed noodles, strain them, then add a single flavor packet and serve it as a side dish

it wasn't until I got older and someone questioned my ramen making methods before I realized that most people don't do that

but sometimes I still make them that way anyway, it's become kind of a comfort food for me lmao

reblog to give the person you reblogged from the strength to complete The Task™

hello I'm still alive, I just forgot that tumblr existed again

As penance here's a recent timelapse of me channeling my inner high schooler... the amount of times I drew this guy back in 2001 borders on obscene

I sit alone in an unfurnished room for several hours, locked in meditation. After several days of silence, my eyes snap open.

"I just passed the Bechdel Test"

You meet god and she's mostly dead fish. You ask her why and she says most of the world is dead fish, and she's made herself to appeal to the most common denominator, the everyman funnyman comedy show that runs for eleven seasons but with the entire universe in mind. You ask her how much of the dead fish is your fault, she says it's far less than you'd think, in the grand scheme of things. You ask her if you matter at all. If you can do anything. She shrugs her rotting shoulders and says mattering is a made-up concept, like life, but sure, you can matter if you want to, on some scale. She has many scales. She doesn't know what you mean by 'anything', but you can do everything you can. You ask her if it's enough. She says there's no base requirement for deserving to exist. She's smoking a joint and the smoke filtering out of her gills gathers and forms gas giants and red dwarfs. You ask her if there's any hidden secrets of the universe you should know and she says it's not a secret if she tells, plus it's fun to let you figure it out yourself. You ask her if any of your questions were right questions and she says you worry about being right so much it might keep you from fucking around, which is as close to meaning of life as she ever bothered to make. You don't ask but she says she loves your hair, also your whole being, also your planet. She says she figured out what love is yesterday and is trying it out, which explains the ten thousand rainbows and sudden influx in rains of fish. She offers you a drag of her joint and you wake up half past midnight behind a chain restaurant clutching a smoked salmon. The new stars are winking like they're in on some joke and you're sure if you try hard enough you'll remember what it is.