Cwanky

https://derpibooru.org/images/518639?sort[]=1389169367000&sort[]=518639

https://derpibooru.org/images/518619

Worthless - The Brave Little Toaster But I suspect some of you already knew that. Coincidentally, everyone on this forum is the complete opposite of worthless.

One moment you're in the limelight. Next thing you know you're making lemonade outta lemons and driving a lemon.

I took a man to a graveyard I beg your pardon, it's quite hard enough Just living with the stuff I have learned

https://derpibooru.org/images/518433?sort[]=1389146600000&sort[]=518433

https://derpibooru.org/images/518430?sort[]=1389146371000&sort[]=518430

Expectant mothers should avoid time travel. And as always, remember to fasten your seat belts.

I will beat the heat with an Ice Hammer!

Level 301: "Triskaidekaphobia" Description Level 301 is a strange place that one rules as weird. At first glance, it looks like an old, abandoned museum; left to fall apart but still obsessively organized. But underneath, it's a carefully designed ritual space where everything must be in groups of thirteen, and nothing is random. The air feels heavy here; stale, cold, tinged with the scent of old paper, wax, and a metallic hint, like dried blood. Footsteps bounce loudly through the tall, arched hallways, and the silence feels deliberate, almost forced. The museum is oddly bright with chandeliers holding 13 flickering bulbs, but shadows linger in corners; thick, slow-moving, watching everything. When you step inside, you're greeted by a spacious central atrium. It's round, with 13 hallways branching out, each leading to a small museum. In the middle, there's a large guide rose carved into the marble floor, its 13 points marked with mysterious symbols that shift and don't match any known language. A sign hangs above, swinging gently without any breeze, engraved with the phrase: “Observe, Repeat, Remember. Thirteen sees all.” Each hallway leads to a different type of gallery; books, weapons, timepieces, and more, totaling 13. They're all exactly 130 meters long, though perceptions can stretch or shrink that measure. At the end, there's a sealed double door with a brass number 13 and a mysterious sigil that shifts subtly with each visit, as if it senses being watched. Each gallery has 13 rooms, each filled with 13 objects of the same kind, perfectly arranged. The furniture—like display tables, glass cases, and pedestals—is handcrafted, aged, and labeled with plaques. But the plaques are pretty vague; many read simply: "Object 7 of 13. Untitled. Unknown Origin." Some galleries feel like frozen moments in time. The Painting Gallery, for instance, displays canvases from all eras, but they all seem strangely alike; portraits where the eyes look straight at you, glassy and unnerving. Some paintings have been seen blinking, and others whisper softly as you walk by. In the Book Gallery, dusty, thick tomes write and rewrite themselves, lines shifting and disappearing in real time. One visitor reportedly lost their mind trying to read all 13 versions of a book called "The Thirteenth Hour." But there’s something deeply wrong with the architecture. The longer you stay in the museum, the more strange things you notice: doors that weren’t there before, staircases that just end in ceilings, walls that seem to pulse like they’re breathing. You’ll never see all 13 museums in one visit. Trying to do so will mess with the layout; paths loop back on themselves, leading you to rooms you’ve already seen or into replicas that subtly change, like objects replaced by wax versions of your own body. Some exhibits seem to respond to attention. Staring at the Weapons Gallery too long might make the blades twitch, vibrate, or inch closer to the edge of their cases. Meanwhile, the Mirror Gallery feels almost alive; some mirrors show reflections of the room 13 seconds into the future, while others reflect nothing at all, even with someone standing right in front of them. The museum staff even shows up in thirteens. Rarely, you'll see 13 mannequins dressed in old-fashioned curator uniforms lined up at the end of a hallway. When you get close, they disappear. Sometimes, though, they reappear faintly in mirrors, slowly turning their heads to stare right at you. This museum isn’t about preservation; it’s a ritual carved in stone. The exhibits aren’t just for looking; they’re meant to feed the number. Whether 13 is a god, a curse, or just a rule, nobody really knows. But one thing is certain: You are not just a visitor here. You are part of the exhibit.[1] https://backrooms.fandom.com/wiki/Level_301

Don't sell yourself short. A penny is probably too little for your thoughts, especially when adjusted for inflation.

Cicadas are a long term investment

https://www.fimfiction.net/story/518315/doctor-whooves-invasion-of-manehattan

Needs some more protein and starch to give it some body.

You gotta admire his persistence. He doesn’t take no for an answer.

An apple a day boosts Applejack’s pay.

https://manebooru.art/images/518242?sort[]=518242

https://manebooru.art/images/518240

When’s your next concert?

I wonder if we will ever invent sideway elevators.

https://derpibooru.org/images/518226?sort[]=1389129488000&sort[]=518226