So I may have started a thing…
Welcome to 911 characters as soap dispenser bottles, a thread.
Starting with the wonderful Hen Wilson.

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So I may have started a thing…
Welcome to 911 characters as soap dispenser bottles, a thread.
Starting with the wonderful Hen Wilson.
(Click for a better review)
Another Weinerham doodle but it's 4 years too late for it
I was bored and my phone had 50% battery left so I thought I'm going to waste it on sketching this crap and eventually finishing it, oh well
... I just wanted to draw some Randy and Howard cuddling in bed together TwT This ship needs more fluff QwQ
Bbmessanger II Hemmings
JACK: I wanna corrupt the shit outta that hot lil Luke
Mickey Mouse cinnamon roll from the Main Street Bakery featuring Starbucks located in Magic Kingdom.
Hheeeeyyyy Hhhaaaazzzz!!! You might be mad I’m not sleeping, but what if I told you Allie wasn’t sleeping either?
proper shinee blogs have become extinct and I'm genuinely happy when I come across one
headcanon DR: AE verse
Mukuro is in the upmost despair, while the mutual killing of the 78th class went as planned initially the outcome was the same with naegi figuring out who the true culprit was. Mukuro survived and escaped to the outside world to continue her younger sister’s mission of creating despair; she is also the new figure head for despair.
Much changed for the ultimate despairs most of it is that mukuro’s personal army are branded with a fenrir symbol with the monokuma head instead of a wolf head on the right and the normal wolf head tattoo on the left. However unlike junko the mercenary is as active in the destroying of the world as the others, however because of her involvement there are many more casualties without the use of as many monokuma.
△ (from Ace)
Arynn, she’d found, was never one for closed spaces; too many memories, not enough freedom, she was the creature battering against the cage when you turned the key. So when the horde came stumbling up the fire escape stairs like some apparition trailing her every move, what the girl would’ve done was bash each of their hideous faces in, dissect every bone and leave them mutilated and so utterly dead--just for taking up perfect space. Only some bastard had yanked her in a maintenance closet before one came to close, and now she waited with impatience for the stranger to let her wrist go.
“What’re you doing?” she asked in accusation, “I had it fine out there. There were only like...five.” There was definitely more than that, but the anger and frustration seething through the girl made the number so miniscule compared to her raging mind. She tugged her arm free, dubious of the person--now man, by the way his figure seemed in the darkness--who hadn’t bothered to reply, only breathing with such serenity and calmness so stark against her ragged gasps.
So she thought it best to keep silence as she pressed her ear against the cool metal of the door, hearing nothing but the eerie echo of empty halls and vaulted ceilings. “See? Everything’s fine-” she paused, twisting on the knob like she would wring someone’s neck.
“Hey, looks like we’re locked in,” he finally muttered, his voice deep and smooth and not welcome.
“No shit, Sherlock.”
“Don’t take your anger out on me, it was clearly the door’s fault.”
She groaned, beating a fist against the worn metal. “Yeah, and it was clearly your fault for giving birth to it.”
“What?” she heard him vaguely reply, as she kicked around her small little space with irritation and more frustration, vexed by this entire situation. She was looking for a broom--a broom or anything else, something she could bust the look with. Or maybe she could just use his face. She had to admit, though, if the man was silent for even two minutes, it was effortless to even believe he was there. He was like a shadow, lurking only to help or end you; a mist obscuring your vision until just...disappearing- No. That wasn’t him; not the man behind her. It was someone else she didn’t bother to remember, someone she’d meshed with everyone else.
“You gonna help me? I don’t know about you, but I’ve got things to do and the one thing on my list doesn’t include you,” she sighed, shivering and annoyed in the coolness of the closet. “So like a hammer, or a mop, or anything-”
“What about a key?” he asked cheekily, dangling something that sounded like angels’ voices when she heard the jingle.
“Fuck you.”