Ghost Hunting Team That Keep A Nonbeliever Named Steve Around As An Emergency Supernatural Suppressant

When you Solo your Leveling

I do love the phrase executive dysfunction bc the image it conjures is of a bunch of people wearing business suits around a long oval conference table  arguing with each other to the point where they’re getting into physical fights, but in the background there’s just a big empty whiteboard with a To Do list with one item on it and that item is “take shower”

XD this makes me laugh every time

leave your laundry on the floor for them

sometimes you need dialogue tags and don't want to use the same four

The Ghosts get tired of Phantom interfering with their fun and straight up asked him.

Johnny: What's your problem man?!

Phantom: You want to know what my problem is?

Phantom starts glowing: My "problem" is that you guys keep defiling my GRAVE!!!

Johnny: wha-

Phantom getting angrier: Yeah!! When that DAMN portal opened! It fucking teleported my bones all AROUND Amity Park! And when that FUCKING PORTAL STABILIZED.

Phantom flew up closer to Johnny and whispered: do you know what happened?

Johnny visibly backs up and shakes in fear: n-no

Phantom: That damn portal engraved my bones into the soil of Amity Park, with my skull being right above the portal where my grave was supposed to stay.

Phantom floats back to look down at Johnny before flying away: That is my ''problem'' Johnny 13.

After Phantom flown away, all Johnny can think of is "This isn't his Hunt" and "He wasn't being an asshole for no reason he was being an asshole because this is his grave".

Honestly this hits really close to home... for the longest time I didn't think I knew how to be creative, my whole life I was told what to do and how to do it. When i was finally able to do what I liked I blanked. I didn't know how to do what i wanted, only what I thought others wanted of me. I would smile when I thought I was supposed to and laugh when I had thought they made a joke. I would draw what I was supposed to and throw away what I wasn't.

Once a little boy went to school. One morning The teacher said: “Today we are going to make a picture.” “Good!” thought the little boy. He liked to make all kinds; Lions and tigers, Chickens and cows, Trains and boats; And he took out his box of crayons And began to draw.

But the teacher said, “Wait!” “It is not time to begin!” And she waited until everyone looked ready. “Now,” said the teacher, “We are going to make flowers.” “Good!” thought the little boy, He liked to make beautiful ones With his pink and orange and blue crayons. But the teacher said “Wait!” “And I will show you how.” And it was red, with a green stem. “There,” said the teacher, “Now you may begin.”

The little boy looked at his teacher’s flower Then he looked at his own flower. He liked his flower better than the teacher’s But he did not say this. He just turned his paper over, And made a flower like the teacher’s. It was red, with a green stem.

On another day The teacher said: “Today we are going to make something with clay.” “Good!” thought the little boy; He liked clay. He could make all kinds of things with clay: Snakes and snowmen, Elephants and mice, Cars and trucks And he began to pull and pinch His ball of clay.

But the teacher said, “Wait!” “It is not time to begin!” And she waited until everyone looked ready. “Now,” said the teacher, “We are going to make a dish.” “Good!” thought the little boy, He liked to make dishes. And he began to make some That were all shapes and sizes.

But the teacher said “Wait!” “And I will show you how.” And she showed everyone how to make One deep dish. “There,” said the teacher, “Now you may begin.”

The little boy looked at the teacher’s dish; Then he looked at his own. He liked his better than the teacher’s But he did not say this. He just rolled his clay into a big ball again And made a dish like the teacher’s. It was a deep dish.

And pretty soon The little boy learned to wait, And to watch And to make things just like the teacher. And pretty soon He didn’t make things of his own anymore.

Then it happened That the little boy and his family Moved to another house, In another city, And the little boy Had to go to another school.

The teacher said: “Today we are going to make a picture.” “Good!” thought the little boy. And he waited for the teacher To tell what to do. But the teacher didn’t say anything. She just walked around the room.

When she came to the little boy She asked, “Don’t you want to make a picture?” “Yes,” said the little boy. “What are we going to make?” “I don’t know until you make it,” said the teacher. “How shall I make it?” asked the little boy. “Why, anyway you like,” said the teacher. “And any color?” asked the little boy. “Any color,” said the teacher. And he began to make a red flower with a green stem.

~Helen Buckley, The Little Boy

I'm laughing so hard and cringing at the same time! XD I can just imagine the way it burns your tongue and you can't really taste anything for hours/days after

This is making me cry

A mouth-watering fuck-ton of hand angle references.

By Shadowcross on DA.

Today we painted pumpkins! Just two days ago I started undertale again and I am obsessed with Sans! He is so cool!