#and eating marshmallow candy

[kpop-bbg]

[fallingforchristmasworld]

[iamearthy]

thinking about !!! them!!!

amore belongs to @rslashrats !!

[icarrymany]

mexican mutuals i just tried malvabón for the first time oh my god

[bunnyb34r]

Peepsi would be a lovely name for a baby girl :)

[crystalkitty1220]

DISABILITY AWARENESS MONTH

I INTRODUCE TO YOU OUR OC JAEL WHO IS A MAGIC BOY BUT HAS CHRONIC PAIN IN HIS LEG I GET TO DRAW HIM AGAIN (has art block)

Woaah!!

[an-absolute-trainwreck]

I don’t want to edit this so just imagine the meme format

“Gelatin is vegetarian: change my mind”

[icelynodette]

Mario Marshmallow Challenge Try Not To Eat It

[sweetmiremoonie]

Um... As I was perusing through Target, I held this, and these smelled amazing, so I purchased them. That was the main reason I purchased these. Of course I'm going to eat them in moderation, but the smell...it was just heavenly...

[bastard-of-a-bog-being]

Anyone remember the dinosaur egg oatmeal or the treasure chest oatmeal with the candy pieces that “cooked” to reveal dinosaur sprinkles or the treasure chests that would open to reveal gold? (I always ALWAYS ate the dinosaur eggs before making the oatmeal, I couldn’t help it.)

Remember when food came in crazy colors? When French fries were

POST CANCELLED I JUST REMEMBERED THEY STILL MAKE THE DINOSAUR EGG OATMEAL

AND I’M AN ADULT WITH A FULL TIME JOB

I CAN EAT DINOSAUR EGGS FOR BREAKFAST AGAIN

however please also enjoy the knowledge of Batman’s Gotham City S’Mores Oatmeal, something I did not know existed now and I am frankly laughing at Batman Oatmeal for no reason

THIS POST BROUGHT TO YOU BY:

I really just love food novelties, I’m sorry

[ckret2]

Chapter 49 of human Bill Cipher being such a miserable prisoner even the Pines are starting to feel bad for him: The Eclipse: Epilogue.

####

"The heck did you do to that poor woman?" Tate asked, staring out the window. Bill was sitting on the pier, legs dangling in the water, staring blankly into the depths. He was still muddy and trembling. "She looks more traumatized than when y'all left."

Ford couldn't meet Tate's gaze under the brim of his hat, but he could feel Tate raising a brow when he spotted Dipper pacing back and forth on the pier behind Bill, muttering furiously.

"We've had a very bad day," Ford said. 

"Uh-huh."

"Could I borrow your phone to call my brother?"

Outside, Dipper was oblivious to everything except the one line he'd managed to remember from the Axolotl, the words he'd picked out as they crossed the lake. "'Sixty degrees that come in threes,'" Dipper murmured. He knew that much. It was a poem. It was a rhyme. He couldn't remember the rest. What did it mean? He murmured it over and over to himself as he walked, trying to remember the next line, "'Sixty degrees that come in threes,' 'sixty degrees that come in threes'... breeze, freeze, ease, lease, knees—" He couldn't remember the rhyme.

Bill was considering grabbing Dipper by the ankle and dragging him off the pier just to shut him up when whatsisname, the younger McGucket came out of the shop. "Hello there? Miss Goldie?"

Human. Strange human. Human that Bill could get on his side. Be charming. He tried to remember how to be charming. He offered a feeble smile. "Yello?"

"I wanted to make sure you're all right," Tate said. "You look like you, uh... you've had a hard time."

Bill laughed ruefully. "Well, I've been dragged all over the mountain, I'm hungry, exhausted, and half-drowned, and I can barely walk—but I'm not currently dead. Allegedly. I'll take what I can get."

The corners of Tate's mouth twitched down in a concerned frown. "Is there anything you need? A..." He floundered for a moment, "A water, or...?"

"I've had enough water to last me a lifetime." He wondered idly whether he could claim he was too exhausted to make it all the way home—there was a sofa in the staff room, Tate would probably let the poor bedraggled "woman" take a nap, if Bill got that bit of distance between himself and the Pines maybe he could... maybe he could... do something with it? But he couldn't think of anything more definite than that and now Ford was coming back and the window of opportunity closed. He shrugged wearily. "Just need to get back to the shack. Thanks." He half heartedly used the lake water to wash the drying mud off his lower legs and knees.

"Stan will be here in about twenty minutes," Ford said, and tried to ignore the dirty look Tate gave him. 

"I'll be just inside if you need anything else," Tate said. "Watching." He headed inside—and then, indeed, stood at the shop window and watched.

Ford was never going to get on Tate's good side. He suspected Tate would be a little less sympathetic to the poor woman on the pier if he knew who he really was; but it certainly wouldn't make Tate like Ford any better for keeping him around.

"Nothing to do now but wait." Ford unloaded the rest of their supplies from the borrowed motor boat. He dropped Soos's Monster-Mon backpack beside Bill—it was heavy, Bill must have just shoved his clothes and bedsheet straight in without bothering to wring out the water—and the plastic bag of snacks Dipper had bought. "You ought to eat more while we wait." Ford nudged the snack bag.

Bill sneered at it. "I don't want that trash."

"What?" Ford examined the bag's contents. Jerky, chips, candy, cups of marshmallow cereal... "This is ninety percent of what you eat."

"Ninety percent of what I eat is what I can scavenge from the counters."

Ford looked through the bag again. Ah. Right. So it was. "If you want something else, you know you can ask us to..."

"Mac and cheese."

Maybe Ford had better stop talking. He sighed and glanced at Dipper to see how he was doing.

It didn't look like Dipper had even registered Ford's return, too busy pacing and muttering to himself. Ford frowned. "Dipper?"

"Axolotl," Bill explained. "He's obsessing over him. Didn't I tell you that meeting that thing would drive him insane?" He tilted his head toward Dipper. "Look at that, he's already mumbling to himself. Don't suppose you have his therapist's number, do you? I doubt that would save him, but it might slow the process—"

Ford shushed him.

Dipper had briefly tuned back into the conversation when he heard Bill say Axolotl; and now he grit his teeth and stubbornly tuned it back out. No. He was not going insane. Dipper would figure this out. If he just remembered the rest he'd be fine. He tried to go through all the potential rhymes alphabetically, "—bees, cease, d—deez?" That wasn't a word. "Fees, geese, he's..." and on and on, "seas, tees, uh... vees? Wheeze..."

"I've had enough of you trying to convince that boy he's about to go mad," Ford muttered to Bill. "What do you get out of saying that? Even if you do convince him he's insane, it won't make him start trusting anything else you say."

"I'm not lying," Bill said heatedly. "You ought to know that, you've been in the multiverse, you've seen plenty of maddening sights. You saw them before you even left the Nightmare Realm."

Ford hesitated before responding; was Bill trying to persuade Ford he was insane? But he could still remember those first few moments of terror in the Nightmare Realm: the creatures that had seemed to move and shift in impossible ways as they swam in and out of dimensions Ford couldn't see, the lights and colors that throbbed like an inverted migraine, Bill himself seemingly suspended a million light years away and a foot in front of Ford's face at the same time. Until Ford had latched onto his quest to destroy Bill and let that focus him, his mind had felt like an unraveling sock. "You were chief among those maddening sights."

"I was," Bill acknowledged neutrally.

"But I didn't go insane."

"Because you knew when to look away." He cast a sideways glance at Dipper, an implicit unlike him. "I know you used to read cosmic horror. Do you know why the narrator always goes mad just from looking at some giant beast? It's not because it's too ugly to take. It's because once you meet something, you try to understand it; but if you want to understand the reality something like that comes from," he rolled an eye up toward where the invisible Axolotl had hung in the sky, "you have to lose your understanding of your own reality. They're incompatible. Like the lunatics who escaped Plato's cave and came back ranting about nonsense like sunlight and colors."

It was a twisted interpretation of the cave allegory. Plato had meant it as a metaphor for education: that learning about the true nature of reality was enlightening, but alienated you from your peers.

Perhaps to Bill, enlightenment and insanity were the same thing.

Ford murmured, "Once your eyes have been too dazzled by the sunlight to see the dim shadows, you'll never be awed by a candle again."

"You have been there before."

Ford didn't answer.

"Once you've seen something like that, if you let yourself dwell on the significance of it all, you're doomed. Better to tell yourself it's unimportant and try to forget it ever happened."

Ford thought of Fiddleford.

Bill twisted around to snap tiredly at Dipper, "So stop staring at the sun before you go blind, moron."

"Shut up." Dipper had been trying to mentally drown out Bill's dire predictions by grasping for more rhymes—"disease, unease, Socrates"—but enough filtered through to make his stomach churn with nervousness. What if Bill was right? What if he never remembered what the Axolotl told him—what if he drove himself mad trying? What if this turned into a lifelong obsession—but he'd be fine and could let it go once he remembered—was that the trap? Was whatever it had told him impossible for a human to remember? Was it something so incomprehensible a human couldn't remember it without going crazy?

But he'd seen plenty of stuff last summer that was supposed to make humans go "insane." Bill had to be messing with him. He remembered the first line—surely that meant he could remember the rest—but was that part of the trap? "'Sixty degrees that come in threes'... come on, there's something else, I know it, what is it? 'Sixty degrees that come in threes'—"

Bill sighed irritably. "'Watches through the eyes in trees.'"

Dipper stopped pacing. He hadn't realized he'd raised his voice enough to be audible. "What?"

"What?" Bill said.

"What's the rest of it?"

"What rest of it? It's a couplet. That's all," Bill said. "Is that what he told you? He gets rhymey when he feels self-important, it's no big deal. Maybe you're lucky. Put it out of your head and you'll be fine."

Dipper turned the words over in his head. Sixty degrees that come in threes, watches through the eyes in trees... "That's not exactly right," he said slowly. "It was 'watches from within birch trees.'"

"Is that how he translated it? I've never heard it in English before. I got close, though, I knew it'd rhyme."

Ford echoed, "'Sixty degrees that come in threes.' Like a triangle?"

Dipper gave him a perplexed look. "What?"

"You're taking geometry next year, aren't you? The inner angles of polygons always have the same number of degrees; and a triangle has a hundred and eighty degrees. Three angles of sixty degrees forms... an equilateral triangle."

Dipper and Ford stared at Bill.

Bill gave them a tired, unreadable look. "What?" he said. "Don't look at me. I'm not the only equilateral triangle in the universe."

Well, now Dipper was sure there was more to the poem than just a couplet. "How many other equilateral triangles spy on people through birch trees?"

"Lay off," Bill said crabbily. "I didn't have to tell you that line. Don't make me regret it." He planted his elbows on his knees, laced his hands together, pressed his forehead to them, and massaged his eyelids with his thumbs.

He tilted slightly to the right, keeping the weight of his head off his left arm.

####

"Nice shirt," Stan said, eyeing Ford's anger management t-shirt.

"If you like it, you can have it."

"What happened to your coat?"

"Somewhere at the bottom of the lake," Ford sighed.

"How...?"

"I'll fill you in later."

Bill's trembling was almost unnoticeable by the time Stan arrived. Or, at least, it was slight enough that he could stand and make the short walk from the pier to the car without an obvious struggle. 

He climbed into the back seat, slid across the bench, leaned against the door, wrapped his arms around his Monster-Mon backpack, fell asleep, and didn't wake up for the entire drive home.

Dipper and Ford fell silent when they noticed; and, sensing the heavy atmosphere, Stan followed suit.

####

The event organizers for Higher Dimensional Gate had arranged for the Magister Mentium's audience to surround him in a circle with as large a circumference as possible, so that as many shapes as possible could pack into the first few rows where they could see him. Even so, the crowd was much too large for everyone to be in the first few rows. Speakers had to be planted throughout the crowd so that they'd all be able to hear the Magister speak. Most of his audience couldn't see him.

But he, with his all-seeing eye, could see all of them.

The crowd extended back, row after row after row, in every direction like flecks of multicolor confetti filling the air all the way to the horizon. He'd never spoken to such a large crowd before. He didn't think he'd ever seen such a large crowd before.

Not all of them were his worshipers. He didn't have that many worshipers. The rest were drawn in by his boast—to be the first shape outside of legends to predict an eclipse, over six months ahead of schedule. They were here for a spectacle. He meant to give them one.

If he succeeded, all these spectators would become his worshipers, he was sure of it. If he didn't succeed, he lost everything. The whole nation knew about his bet. He'd be financially ruined. His worshipers would abandon him. There would be no fleeing to a new town and starting over; everyone everywhere knew who he was. His life would be over.

This would be only the third eclipse he could recall. There's no way to neatly map shape ages onto human ages. Different year lengths, different aging speeds, different mental and physical milestones. But approximately, compared to a human, he was scarcely over fifteen years old. 

But he wouldn't fail. He pushed all his fears aside. He didn't even want to think about them. He wouldn't, because he couldn't, because he could see what nobody else saw. He could see the eclipse's approach.

It was traveling across the vast empty gulf outside the world.

The only other third dimensional objects he'd ever seen were the sun—which looked to him like a circle—and the stars—which seemed to be mere points. He assumed all third dimensional objects were fundamentally just second dimensional objects, moving on a strange plane. He had no capacity to model a 3D object in his mind.

But the eclipse was a beast that twirled and gyrated around impossible axes, moving and rotating in ways his eye couldn't even comprehend. To him, it looked as though the living creature—he assumed it was a living creature, sometimes it manifested a couple of limbs or an eye—was constantly shapeshifting, its perimeter moving and altering. Its uncanny undulations had haunted his nightmares for months after he first watched it, so young he'd barely started school. It wasn't any less nightmarish now.

But as incomprehensible and terrifying as it was, he could see it, and nobody else here could, and that was all that mattered. He could watch it on the horizon and publicly announce that it would cross the sun in two weeks—and then in about three days—and then, to his humiliation, not tomorrow but today, guaranteed, as the creature sped up and threw off his estimate. His worshipers and bemused spectators had taken over the square to while away the time. They'd quickly gathered around him to wait after he'd declared it would arrive within the hour

That had been almost an hour and a half ago. The stupid thing had slowed down.

The triangle was terrified.

In every direction, shapes were staring at him. Waiting. His father was watching him—his stare seemed to grow heavier by the minute. He could see reporters in the crowd taking notes.

He had to fight not to pace, not to cringe, not to show any nerves in front of the hundreds of eyes.

Now. It had to be now. It was so close. Please don't let him be wrong. Every cord in his body quivered in terror as he grabbed his microphone and announced: "Lines, bis, tris—quads, quints, and more! My dear students and beloved believers, and my—" he cut off the urge to say something nastier, "—curious visitors, who I hope will join our quest for enlightenment. This is the moment you've been waiting for! The eclipse is upon us! In less than a minute, it will begin!" He had to keep his gaze forward as he spoke, looking at his audience. (His mother had always said the way his eye went white when he was looking at the third dimension unnerved people.) "Soon—you won't have to take all my claims about the third dimension on faith. You'll be able to see for yourself the effect of the third dimension on the plane."

The crowd murmured excitedly. He could see his father relax. He stared up-but-not-north, gnawing nervously on his eyelid until he caught himself. The beast above glowed a warm pink in the light of the nearby sun.

And the stupid thing. Slowed. Again.

He stared in disbelief.

"Sixty seconds," his father whispered, out of range of the microphone.

His stomach flopped. He was dead.

"One minute, fifteen seconds. What's going—?"

He held his microphone away and hissed, "The eclipse decided to zigzag."

"Eclipses can zigzag?"

"Shhh!" He'd already failed. He'd already shown everyone he was wrong. He could hear the murmurs. His eye hurt from staring at the sun and from straining for so long to turn so far upward-not-northward, go faster faster faster—

There! The snout of the eclipse was this close to kissing the perimeter of the sun. He cried triumphantly, "Now!"

The wretched beast did a loop-the-loop around the sun and missed it entirely.

The triangle felt the last strands of his fraying self-composure snap.

He howled in rage.

He could hear laughs from the crowd. They felt like daggers in his sides.

"ARE YOU KIDDING ME?!" He was bellowing into outer space as if he thought it might hear him, "Do your think this is a game?! Is this funny?! Are you trying to humiliate me in front of the whole world!" His father put a hand on his arm; the triangle shoved him away. "Get back here right now! You thick, brainless, blobby, pink, feeler-faced two-eyed freak of nature! GET BACK HERE and LOOK ME IN THE EYE!" He was a lunatic, everyone would know it, their leader raving in a direction no one could actually see about some big pink delusion, what did he care, no one would ever take him seriously again anyway—

And the thing in the sky.

Stopped.

And looped back.

And came closer, and closer, and bigger, and bigger—it just kept getting bigger, how far away had it been before, how large was it, how large was the sun?

He hardly noticed the crowd's gasp as the creature twirled between them and the sun—the light shone through its body, pink with blood—and then out of the way, and then in again, and out—until finally it was so close that its perimeter completely engulfed the sun. He'd taken a field trip to the planet's surface once—an enormous solid mass of stone and crystal. Until now, he'd never seen another solid objects so large. To his limited understanding of 3D objects, it looked as though there were no organs inside its perimeter—just a layer of solid, uninterrupted flesh. He didn't know how it could even move.

It stopped straight over him.

He was sure the two black circles embedded inside its body must be its eyes. His whole life he'd heard psychic powers—psychic powers like his own—described as having an "inner eye." But he'd thought the phrase was just a metaphor. An eye on the inside of a body instead of on its perimeter would be useless to most people. He'd never seen a creature with an eye literally on the inside of its body. But the eclipse had two.

And they were looking at him.

A giant ever-shapeshifting cosmic horror from outside of reality, staring through the veil separating the sane world from outerplanar space, and it was looking—at—him.

He was terrified.

He heard an alien voice in his head, vast and deep and slow as distant whale song:

"Hello there!" It was overjoyed. It was tickled pink. "I've never been spoken to by a shape on the wall before. I didn't know you could see off of it!"

Weakly, the triangle repeated, "'A shape on the'...?"

"Yes, this wall of yours." The eclipse gestured with its tail at—everything. A single sweep that took in an entire dimension. "I've probably commuted past this wall billions of times, and nothing's ever called to me before. I didn't know shadows could do that!"

"'Shadows'?" the triangle echoed again. That was all they were? An eclipse's shadows?

"I'm absolutely delighted," the eclipse said. "First contact from a lower-dimensional species! I've watched you for eons and never imagined. Isn't this exciting! How charming of you! Tell me who you are."

Him? "Me?"

"Of course. Who else?" It stared at him. Only him. A shapeshifting force of nature the size of a planet with two inner eyes, an eclipse that saw him as a shadow—and it was looking only at him.

Weakly, he said, "I'm... the Magister Mentium."

The eclipse thought that over. Its tone was a tad dubious and not terribly impressed (why should it be impressed? he was embarrassed at himself for giving his silly puffed-up title)—but it said, "Yes, I suppose that's true. I am the Axolotl. It's been a pleasure meeting you." It began to shapeshift again—its eyes slid sideways through its body, until one reached its perimeter and disappeared.

It dawned on the triangle, in its first immature understanding of third dimensional objects, that its eye had disappeared because the Axolotl was turning away. "Wait!" he cried. "Why..." Why answer him? Why focused on him so completely, if he was just a shadow? Why ask who he was like he mattered? He didn't even know how to put those questions to words in his own mind, much less out loud. "Why are you here so early?"

The Axolotl turned back to the triangle. "Oh! I had to go back for some documents I forgot at the office. Big case in the morning," it said. "You shadows know my schedule?"

"You... pass in front of the sun."

The Axolotl turned away, eyes disappearing and frills fluttering, to look at the sun. "So I do! How funny." It turned toward the triangle and gave him a strange, grotesque look that—by the tone of its psychic voice—he suspected was a smile. "I must get going. I'll be heading into the office a few hours late tomorrow, but perhaps I'll see you again then." And it turned away. It felt like it took forever for the enormous body to sail over-not-north-of the triangle—and pass, at last, out of the sun's path.

The triangle didn't look down-but-not-south until someone shook his side—his father. He lowered his dazed gaze to the crowd—the cheering, applauding crowd. Ma-gi-ster, Ma-gi-ster. A sea of multicolor confetti shapes that filled the air to the horizon.

Shadows.

His father shook him again—"Go on, say something. They're waiting"—and the triangle held up his mic as though he were in a dream. He tried to remember what he was supposed to say. "I was right," he said flatly. "Just like I always told you. I can see the third dimension. The realm of dreams—of colors, of light, and..." The lies left a sick taste in the back of his eye. He couldn't say them. Points of light in darkness and pink nightmares.

"I'm s— You'll all have to excuse me," he said, his voice childish and small. "I can't—I've had a... a... profound... spiritual experience. I must meditate on the revelations I've received." The words felt like woo-woo mumbo-jumbo. "The next eclipse will be a few months after the new year." It seemed important, for some reason, to pass that information on. Wasn't that what he always said he did? Share the wisdom of third dimensional spirits with his followers? "I... have to go now."

His father took his elbow. "This is your moment," he whispered. "Come on, son—you don't want to lose your chance to speak directly to them, do you?"

He shoved the microphone in his father's side. "You speak to them."

"But—"

"I can't," he said. "I can't."

He cut through the crowd as fast as it would part for him—if they were any slower, he'd have started stabbing his way through—haunted the whole way by their applause.

####

And that was it.

From the Axolotl's perspective, he had just had a brief pleasant exchange with a precocious tadpole in a sidewalk puddle.

From the triangle's perspective, he might as well have been standing on the boat deck watching as Cthulhu rose from his millennia of dead slumber at the bottom of the ocean, turned to the fragile vessel bobbing on the waves, and said, "Good morning! Glorious weather we're having, isn't it?"

And from the perspective of the Higher Dimensional Gate, their Magister Mentium had predicted an eclipse, been rightfully insulted when it didn't come the exact second he ordered it, and furiously summoned down an eclipse darker and swifter and longer than any in recorded history.

Up until then, he had been seen as, at best, an oracle. A prophet. A messenger to share the secrets of the third dimension, but that was all he could do. But now, he had commanded forces in an unseen dimension, creating an eclipse months before it was natural. He had made it flicker on and off like he had his finger on the sun's light switch. News reports and the most unimpeachable scientific authorities reported that the eclipse had centered on the location of the Higher Dimensional Gate rally, narrowed down to an inexplicably small radius around that point, and then remained unchanged for several long minutes, long enough for anyone in its shadow to grow fatigued from the missing sunshine. Nothing like that had ever happened before. It defied every known fact about the science of eclipses.

People around the gathering—even people who had known nothing about the Higher Dimensional Gate rally—reported that during the eclipse, they'd become inexplicably disoriented, unable to tell compass directions, and had felt themselves fall toward the darkness—as if gravity's pull had suddenly moved from the south to the epicenter of the eclipse. Public building inspections confirmed that somehow the entire town had shifted, ever so slightly, closer to the epicenter. Closer to the Magister.

Never mind prophecy; as far as the Magister's rapidly-increasing followers were concerned, he might have been a god.

It was the greatest triumph a baby cult leader could ask for.

He barely noticed.

####

For days, he could hardly sleep, speak, or think. He kept losing track of conversations to stare into space. Now, it awed his followers when his eye turned an empty white—he must have been communing with something in a higher dimension.

He didn't argue. It was better than letting them know he was losing his mind.

He spent his time alone locked in his room, pacing back and forth, trying not to look up-but-not-north and failing. Dwelling on the significance of it all. Feeling like he'd never figure it out.

He used to love cosmic horror stories, back when he had time to read. They followed a reliable pattern: the hero travels farther than any rational shape ever should, meets something big, and goes mad from the realization.

And what was it that the hero always realized? That he was a dust fleck in the firmament. That he was insignificant. That he didn't matter. That there were things out there he'd never seen before and would never truly understand, and that they cared not for mere shadows on the wall like him, and that in the grand scheme of the cosmos he was nothing. That he was utterly unimportant.

In moments of what felt like lucidity in between the shivering horror, the triangle  wryly acknowledged that it was no surprise he'd ended up in a cosmic horror story. He could see into another dimension. In the stories he'd read, that made it all but inevitable.

But all the authors had gotten the maddening revelation wrong. He could have handled knowing he was nothing. It almost would have been a relief. 

True horror was knowing he mattered.

He'd spent the majority of his young life selling the idea that he was oh-so-important, as part of a big con to trick gullible idiots into liking him and flinging cash at his rotten undeserving family—and he'd only been able to do it because when the guilt got to him, when his conscience asked what would become of the shapes forking over their life savings on false promises of divine secrets, he could look out into bleak black space and tell himself that nothing really mattered, nothing was important, nothing he'd ever do would really make a difference, and the people he manipulated didn't matter any more than he did. He meant everything to his worshipers, and nothing to the universe. He could do anything and it didn't matter.

For a moment, a vast mind-melting shape-shifting incomprehensible eldritch god had focused its full attention on him—of all the universe, of all the dimensions beyond the known universe, it had looked at him and only him—a mere shadow on the wall, and yet in that moment, it found him interesting. It found him worthy of notice. He had screamed into the cold uncaring void, and the void had cared. For a moment, he'd held cosmic importance. He mattered. His actions mattered.

He'd felt it see him as important, but why? What was so important about him? There had to have been something significant he'd done, something he showed it, something in what he said. He replayed their conversation in his mind over and over and over and over, trying to remember what he'd done that proved he mattered.

He didn't know what it was. He couldn't find it. All he could remember was just... being.

The writers were wrong. Cosmic horror wasn't when an elder god's eyes slid past you without noticing you existed. It was when the elder god gazed down at you at your lowest and bleakest, during your most petty and selfish act of mass swindling, from a dimension where not even slamming the door and shutting your eye could shield you from its gaze—and it decided you were worth caring about. Cosmic horror was when you encountered a colossal alien that planted the incomprehensibly alien idea in your head that you had an inherent worth just because you existed. Cosmic horror was when a force of nature asked the name of a shadow on the wall.

If it was true... if it all mattered... then what was he doing? How could he? What had he done?

####

He was lucky—he was lucky that his parents had raised him to think so clearly about issues like morality and money and easy marks. His only saving grace was that he was too rational to seriously entertain the Axolotl's mad ideas.

And yet, his mind boiled with mad regret. It blazed with insane guilt. The heat of it could burn him out. It was months before he could continue his public sermons without feeling sick—and even once he did, he could still feel the delusion that what he did mattered, festering in his mind.

It would fester for the next trillion years.

####

(And that concludes this plot arc! I hope y'all enjoyed it!! I'd love to hear what y'all thought of the whole thing—especially now that we've looped back to the original eclipse. 😁)

[in-your-dreams-vn]

It's okei Noel I still love you -smooch-

Also glad you like it~ I am working on my MC design as well so I can draw some shenanigans~

Noel...sweetheart...my little pretty boy...why is your hair so hard to draw!? Seriously what is this? I will shave you is this keeps happening!

bsosixjozoz that looks so good omg 😭😭😭 (I myself struggle with his haire sometimes lmaoo)

I...I can maybe attache them if you want? maybe it would be easyer for you ? QvQ

-Noël

[realprissygirl]

prtygrlbeauty scent review 🍨

#deliciousdoll series pt. 1 🍥🌸🍬

body nectars:

1. passionfruit princess

“smells like fresh tropical fruits with deep tart hints of passionfruit, lemon, strawberry, and orange.”

omg so yummy and fruity. reminds me of fruit snacks. getting jolly ranchers and starburst from this and i fckn love it.

2. pink sugar

“smells like sweet delectable candy essence with vanilla and musk.”

fluffy, clean and sweet. so so pretty to smell like. loved to mix this one with eos strawberry dream. the definition of sweet without necessarily being gourmand or fruity. yum.

3. brown sugar baby

“smells like whipped vanilla buttercream & caramelized brown sugar, with hints of cream and caramel”

smells like a hot brown sugar latte with heavy cream and cinnamon sugar. i love this so much i’m about to wear tf out of it this fall.

4. cotton candy

“smells like spun caramelized sugar, strawberry, blueberry, and yummy vanilla”

the first thing i thought of was easter basket. super sweet candy smell. this may sound silly but it smells blue. like the color sky blue. almost like a blue raspberry. i love this one so much.

5. angel cake

“smells like soft and sweet angel food cake with a hint of vanilla and sugar, it's like you just took a heavenly bite. perfectly "baked" for you to feel angelic all day!”

cake batter and isn’t overly sweet. just rich and gourmand-y. haven’t used it yet but the smell alone tells me i’ll be using it with a lot of my favorite “bakery” scents.

6. birthday cake

“smells like rich and sweet birthday cake. moist, yellow cake with a rich, sweet butter cream frosting. you'll almost want to eat it! (please don't!)”

super similar to angel cake with a thick air of sweetness of the cake batter. this one is a hit for me and imma use this up so soon i can already tell.

7. cinnamon buns

“smells like ooey-gooey warm cinnamon rolls with vanilla buttercream frosting.”

i used to work in a cafe and when i went to smell this i got a strong memory of “cinnamon dulce”. i love love love this one i’ve used this one quite a bit since i got my second haul. a pure cinnamon and syrup scent.

8. strawberry vanilla macaron

“smells like sweet strawberry and rhubarb blended with creamy vanilla and spun sugar. hints of butter frosting, red berries, caramel, vanilla ice cream, and macarons.”

a strawberry glazed donut. strawberry, icing, and vanilla. so yummy.

9. sugar cookie

“smells like the perfect sugar cookie with buttercream frosting! notes of powdered sugar, butter and fresh cream!”

a less overwhelming take on “birthday cake”. slightly warm. everything the “sugar cookie” perfume oil should have been.

10. strawberry shortie

“smells like strawberry shortcake, fresh sliced strawberries, warm vanilla cake, and fluffy whipped cream.”

reminds me of strawberry shortcake by canvas beauty in the sense that it smells like fake sweet strawberry and i love love love it soooo much. smells like an old strawberry shortcake lip balm from childhood.

11. ur berry cute

“smells like yummy black raspberry vanilla! notes of ripe black raspberries, dark plum, and warm vanilla!”

think of the smell of grape soda. definitely similar to black raspberry vanilla by bbw (one of my all time favorites). this might sound crazy but it smells so good to me. the heaviest candy like smell and it’s even better layered with other fruity scents.

perfume oils:

1. sugar cookie

“smells like the perfect sugar cookie with buttercream frosting! notes of powdered sugar, butter and fresh cream!”

i have to be honest. i didn’t like this at all. i got the creaminess but that was it. it smelled sort of sour. but luckily this is the only thing i’ve tried that i didn’t like from the brand. so on we move.

2. pink sugar

“smells like sweet sugar, vanilla, custard & marshmallow”

the scent smells like the color pink if that makes any sense. very clean and sweet. like sugar and powder blended together. it’s one of my favorites!

3. cozy sugar

“smells like warm vanilla sugar: intoxicating vanilla, white orchid, sparkling sugar, fresh jasmine and creamy sandalwood.”

warm, sweet, and almost synthetic. it almost reminds me of strawberry dream by eos. i can’t wait to layer her with my gourmand perfumes.

4. pumpkin pecan

“smells like belgian waffle, creamy pumpkin, butter pecan, walnut, maple & fall spices.”

sweet with an undertone of spice. so buttery and yummy. i don’t get too much pumpkin but cinnamon is sticking out to me. i literally love it and i’m so glad to have it in my fall collection.

5. whipped berries

“smells like berry, whipped vanilla and peach blossom”

baby powder and mixed berries. pretty clean and not overwhelming at all.

6. flower fields

“smells like fresh flower fields! star notes: freesia, green leaves, tuberose, jasmine sambac, egyptian jasmine, rose de mai, peach, oakmoss & cedar.”

straight florals. no other families of fragrance and honestly i love it. makes it super nice to layer or amplify other florals i have (and help dial back the sweetness of some sweet florals i love). reminds me of chanel chance.

7. whipped spice

“smells like whipped vanilla cream, cinnamon, honey & corriander.”

immediately thought of almond blossom and oat milk by vs. i don’t get too much spice from this. rather a lactonic sweet and creamy smell. i personally love the honey and think it’ll be perfect for fall.

8. fruit snacks

“smells like citrusy, juicy, sweet fruit! star notes: raspberry, citrus, candy & rose.”

my absolute favorite of them all. i wear it nearly daily. such a sweet fruity gourmand. has a candy quality to it. if you like any sweet mists by bbw you’d love this.

9. vanilla bean

“smells like whipped cream, vanilla, caramel, chocolate, musk & benzoin”

a clean but rich vanilla. reminds me of a vanilla deodorant. then there’s a warm kick to the bottom notes. i love it.

10. cake pop

“smells like soft, sweet & fluffy confetti cake”

powdered sugar and sprinkles. cake pop is a fitting name when you think of the icing and sprinkles a cake pop has. i wore this out with sweet like candy and it brought a deeper layer to the ari perfume. but other than for layering, i don’t reach for it too often.

11. strawberry cake

“smells like fresh strawberries & fluffy shortcake and whipped cream.”

imagine if bubble bath by maison margiela and strawberry pound cake were mixed and that’s what this gives to me. candy with a bit of a fresh, clean note.

12. white mocha

“smells like white chocolate, cozy cappuccino, vanilla orchid, and white tonka bean.”

mocha is chocolate but i didn’t get any chocolate from this but what it does smell like is something you’d get a coffee shop around christmas time. just not chocolatey. marshmallow-y. sweet but not overwhelming. VERY long lasting.

13. warm cream

“smells like light & sweet vanilla backed by a rich and heavy amber. an exotic, creamy vanilla scent.”

another one of my favorite oils. sugary with a bit of noticeable amber. lasts super long and is extremely versatile.

14. soft vanilla

“smells like soft, sweet & warm vanilla and musk.”

barely there. a clean vanilla scent. tiny bit of sandalwood. i think it would layer so well year round.

15. vanilla powder

“smells like soft vanilla orchid, warm cashmere, golden amber, and light florals. a clean vanilla scent.”

extremely similar to vanilla bean but stronger and creamier. also reminds of armani my way’s bottom notes.

[think-like-a-poet]

The food challenge

F2! Logan Sargeant x F3! reader x F2! Oscar Piastri

Original video on youtube

"Hello everyone, I'm Y/N, and this is the Prema Formula 2 and 3 food challenge. I'll be feeding my friends Oscar and Logan Sargeant, and they'll have to guess what they're eating without seeing it." You wave and pointed to the two boys standing next to me, and Oscar smiled politely. Logan, on the other hand, looked happy to be here.

"So excited," Oscar said sarcastic and the american just laughed at him.

"Oscar and I both wear blindfolds so we don't see the food." Logan explains as you hand both of them a pair of cat blind folds. The looked quite stupid.

As the boys put on the blindfolds, you grab the aprons that angelina gave you to put on the boys so they don't mess up their team clothing. "How does this work?" you look at it for some time before figuring it out.

handed them each a pair of cat blindfolds. "We'll both be wearing blindfolds so we won't see what we're eating," Logan explained. Oscar nodded in understanding.

You opened the first plate, revealing a plate of marshmallows. You picked one up and brought it to Logan's mouth. "Open up, Logan," You said, and he took a bite. "That's amazing!" he exclaimed, making Oscar and me laugh.

"You have to try and explain to Oscar what it is." you remember him as he takes a second Marshmallow of the fork that you still held into the air.

Logan thought for a moment before responding, "It's white and you held it over a fire." It wasn't hard for Oscar to guess; he immediately replied, "A marshmallow!" I clapped my hands together in excitement. "Yes, one point for Oscar!"

"Can i have another one?" Logan ask, and you just laugh as you put a new one into his mouth.

"I really like marshmallows." he tried to say while he chewed on his candy.

The next plate was opened, revealing a spoonful of licorice. I knew Logan wasn't a fan of licorice, so it took some effort to get him to take a spoonful. His face contorted in disgust as he chewed. "That's disgusting! How can you do that to me?" he said, his voice laced with sarcasm.

"What is it?" Oscar asked and you look at him with a questioned face, "that is what you are supposed to ques, kangaroo." he just shakes his head at the nickname before Logan starts explaining.

"Italians love it; they have it every morning." However, his description was far off from the actual food.

Oscar guessed again, saying, "Espresso? Coffee beans?" Logan agreed enthusiastically, but I shook my head. "That's not right."

"I have it wrong." Logan asks confused.

"Yes. That is what not having it right means." you show the plate tothe camera, "It was liquorice"

Oscar asked, "How do you confuse that with coffee beans."

Logan shrugged, "It tasted the same."

Now it was Oscar's turn to try and guess. You grabbed the next plate and opened it, revealing a sliced lemon. As Oscar took a bite, his face scrunched up in distaste. "Ugh! Why do I get this one?" He groaned at the sour taste.

"It is sour and-" before Oscar could finish explaining Logan quested, "A sour patch?'

"No. Let me finish my sentence."

"If it was it wouldn't have counted because Osc said half of the word."

Logan just seemed to realised that too.

"It is sour and yellow. It grows on a three,"

"A lemon." Logan exclaimed and Oscar and you agree.

The boys took off their blindfolds and went to stand next to you again.

"This was the Prema food challenge. We hope you like it, I did certain ." You smile and recivied two hand slaps on your arms.

---

Tag list: @hiireadstuff @nikfigueiredo @elliott-calls @g-l-o-b-e-w-h-o-r-e

[why-animals-do-the-thing]

You may notice I frequently comment on the assumptions people make about animal facilities based on their branding. Frequently, people assume accredited facilities are inherently better for animals than unaccredited facilities, or assume sanctuaries are inherently more moral / better at caring for their animals than zoos.

I want to show you an example of why I am always, always skeptical of these assumptions.

If you’re in the California area, you might have heard about Hank the Tank - who is actually a Henrietta, btw - the 500 pound nuisance bear from Lake Tahoe who broke into 21 homes in search of food. She was recently captured by wildlife officials and moved to a sanctuary in Colorado. The Wild Animal Sanctuary has three main facilities, two in Colorado and one in TX. To give you some context, it’s the biggest carnivore sanctuary in the country - they advertise somewhere between 300-500 animals, mostly large carnivores, between their properties. It’s where most of the Tiger King cats went. It’s PETA’s preferred placement for confiscated exotic animals. So, obviously, it’s got to be great, right? Except… take a look at what they posted about Henrietta’s arrival.

Here’s their post about Henrietta’s arrival at the Refuge, the large facility in Colorado that isn’t open to the public. Let’s take a closer look at that food trough…

What do we see here? An entire rotisserie chicken that is either blackened or highly seasoned, and a whole ham. Maybe a second chicken underneath the pile, I can’t quite tell. The sanctuary gets the majority of their bear food donated from groceries stores once it’s past the sell-by date, so we know those are older meats and they’re full of a ton of salt. Then, for fruit and veg, there’s a cantaloupe, mango, corn, avocado, grapes, and apples. Maybe a pepper or two, it’s hard to tell. That’s a lot of sugar and not a lot of fiber or roughage.

But… on top of it and to the right… are those Twizzlers?

Yes.

The sanctuary confirmed on Facebook that they fed this recently rescued obese bear what looks like almost an entire pack of Twizzlers.

I don’t know of any world in which it’s appropriate to feed candy to a bear. Maybe a piece or two as a really high value reinforcer for hard behaviors (that isn’t relevant here, it’s openly against this sanctuary’s ethos to do any husbandry or medical training). An entire pack of Twizzlers is just appalling. But it’s not uncommon for this facility! I have a book written about their operations and animal care (that I bought at their gift shop this spring) which openly discusses how the bears get fed bread, doughnuts, marshmallows, and all sorts of incredibly unhealthy food that comes in with the grocery donations.

But hey, this is apparently fine for the bears, according to the sanctuary’s founder. He was quoted in that same book as saying “Bears are the only animal I know of that can eat insane amounts of sugar and it never hurts them. It does not hurt their organs. They do not get clogged arteries. They do not have high blood pressure. In the wild they eat all these sweet berries in the fall, and they convert sugar to fat… so the more sugar they get the better… we would all love to have a system like that!”

Now while it’s true that bears have physiological adaptations that modulate their insulin production and sensitivity in ways that appear to prevent them from from developing diabetes, that does’t mean it’s healthy for them to regularly eat processed carbohydrates, sugar, and general junk food. And remember - Henrietta gained her fame because of how incredibly overweight she already is, and because she was seeking out human food, According to the Washington Department of Fish and Wildlife, a healthy weight for a normal adult black bear is between 100-300 pounds. So, obviously, the best thing to do is… continue to feed her candy.

Then, later on in the book, it details how they have to bribe a camel to sit tight for a regular medical examination (since they don’t train for medical behaviors) by letting him drink a can of Mountain Dew each time.

If a zoo was known publicly to be feeding their animals Mountain Dew or a couple Twizzlers - even just once, on a rare occasion - they’d be eviscerated in the media and by public opinion. But feeding out inappropriate junk food appears to be a pretty common practice at this place, and it just goes unscrutinized because everyone assumes sanctuaries are inherently better for animals.

So, long story short, never make assumptions about the quality of a facility based on it’s branding or accreditation. (TWAS is accredited by the Global Federation of Animal Sanctuaries). If you have concerns about the ethics or practices of a facility, always try to put your preconceptions aside, go and see for yourself, and think critically about what you see and what you’re told.

[grimmcheems]

Never played platoon either but she looks so kyute😔🎀💖😳💪🏽and like a bunny

I have never played splatoon but I just love marina and her story, she's all I've been doodling for the past week.