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#Multidimensional Physics

bigdatadept · 2 months

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Our Illusion of Control: Beyond Free Will

Join me in exploring the intersection of science and spirituality, where free will meets destiny. Are we characters in a cosmic play, predestined yet profoundly free? Join my journey! #BeyondFreeWill

In the heart of Stanford University’s labs, neurobiologist Robert Sapolsky’s groundbreaking work peels back layers of human behavior, suggesting that what we perceive as free will might be more illusory than we ever imagined. But what if this scientific journey into the nature of human actions aligns more closely with spiritual and esoteric beliefs than we think? My odyssey, intertwining…

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#Consciousness Expansion #Cosmic Narrative #Determinism and Empathy #Esoteric Knowledge #Free Will vs Destiny #Human Existence Exploration #Life&039;s Grand Design #Metaphysical Insights #Multidimensional Physics #Neuroscience and Spirituality #Robert Sapolsky #Science Meets Spirituality #Spiritual Awakening #Synchronicities

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knowlimitations · 21 days

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Transcending Dimensions: Exploring Potentiality in the Quantum Realm

The endless abyss of potentiality is the womb of all existence, encompassing both the tangible and the potential. Just as a flickering candle disperses darkness, consciousness sheds light upon the uncharted depths of the subconscious. It is unfortunate that our innate inclination is to seek solace within the confines of familiarity. Letting go of the known threatens to unravel our perception of reality, compelling us to desperately cling to our established beliefs. We cannot let go of what we know as it would disrupt our perception of what we know as reality, so we desperately cling to our belief systems, it is all we know. We are deeply unsettled and disturbed by the idea of the unknown… death is a classic example of this. Are these tendencies our greatest hindrance?

The double-slit experiment, a cornerstone of quantum mechanics, invites us to question the nature of reality itself. This experiment can be a contentious one, but it truly does disrupt the foundation of what we know about reality. Matter can operate as particles or waves depending on who is watching... the observer and the observed do not appear to be separate entities but intertwined participants that are the foundation of the reality we perceive. Quantum entanglement, another marvel of the quantum world, transcends the confines of classical logic, it beautifully illustrates the interconnectedness that pervades the universe. It opens our minds to a reality beyond our grasp, where particles communicate instantaneously across vast distances, defying the constraints of space and time.

These are two profound examples of a realm we don’t yet understand. Perhaps we don’t understand the quantum world because we cannot yet perceive why these particles act a certain way in our current paradigm. In a 2D world, a stick person would perceive a three-dimensional object, such as a sphere, as a series of changing 2D shapes, like expanding and shrinking circles, depending on their perspective and position relative to the object. In our current reality, we perceive the world in 3D, but what if we had the cognitive capacity to perceive it in 4D? Perhaps we could understand the mechanics of this "spooky action at a distance” (Einstein), and therefore, ask the questions that are more appropriate to it’s multidimensional nature. This is speculative and hypothetical, but I can’t help but contemplate this idea.

If we aren’t open to new paradigms, the questions we ask will always be limited. What if, by shedding the limitations of certainty and embracing the fluidity of uncertainty, we could break free from the cyclical patterns that have disempowered humanity throughout history? What if, instead of clinging to our egos and rigid belief systems, we allowed ourselves to be swept away by the currents of curiosity and wonder? I do believe it would transform our current scientific model. In this paradigm-shifting thought, scientists become not mere seekers of knowledge, but explorers of consciousness itself. By transcending the limitations of linear thinking and embracing a multidimensional perspective, they may unearth deeper truths about the underlying fabric of reality.

When do we collectively choose to transcend our narrow, self-centered human existence and venture into the vast, abundant, and empowering abyss of infinite potential?

0D = dot (zero dimensions). 1D = The line that was drawn from the dot now has 2 dots (2 zero dimensions). 2D = The square has lines on all of its 4 sides (4 one-dimensions) 3D = The cube that we drew from this square has squares on all of its 6 sides (6 two dimensions) If we follow the same order… then the fourth dimension should have 8 cubes (4D = 8 x 3D) The fourth dimension should have 8 three dimensions. If we draw according to this, this is the shape of the 4th dimension. This shape is known as Tesseract. A Tesseract has 8 cubes in it. In geometry, as we increase the number of dimensions, their shapes will get more and more complicated to understand using our eyes. Illustration and Information from Santhosh Kumar D, Digitash.

The double-slit experiment is a fundamental experiment in quantum mechanics that demonstrates the wave-particle duality of quantum entities, such as electrons or photons. It involves shooting particles one at a time towards a barrier with two slits, which results in an interference pattern on a screen behind the barrier, suggesting that the particles exhibit wave-like behavior. This experiment highlights the bizarre nature of quantum mechanics, where particles can behave as both waves and particles simultaneously.

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wayti-blog · 1 year

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That is the road we all have to take - over the bridge of sight into eternity.

Søren Kierkegaard

#the road #the path #the journey #soulpath #cycle of the soul #physical realms #earth school #bridge to eternity #eternity #visible spectrum #spiritual spheres #afterlife #hereafter #soul #spirit #body #multidimensional #love #soren kierkegaard

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sidewalkchemistry · 2 years

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Inner Child Work Is Supported by the Multidimensional Nature of Time

discussing why the journey of healing your childhood traumas is worth your time -- explained thru quantum physics, emotional alchemy, and rewriting narratives ~ inspired by a screenshot of a YouTube comment [pictured] I came across here on Tumblr

#inner work #inner child work #trauma work #quantum physics #time #multidimensional #emotional alchemy #self transformation #inner child healing #quantum realm #transmutation #mental health #spirituality #shadow work #holistic health #holistic healing #sidewalkchemistry

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felixwylde · 2 months

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Dimensional Breaches and Biological Anomalies: Empirical Evidence from the Backrooms Exploration Initiative By Dr. Alexey Petrovitch Ivanoff, Dr. Serina Zhang, Dr. Micheal Torrez, Dr. Emilie Rousseaux, and Dr. Rajj Patel. Abstract:The recent empirical validation of the Backrooms, a complex network of extradimensional spaces, has revolutionized multidisciplinary scientific research, presenting…

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deception-united · 2 months

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Let's talk about character voices.

Giving a character a unique voice in your writing involves several elements, including word choice, sentence structure, dialogue quirks, and mannerisms. By incorporating these elements into your writing, you can create characters with distinct voices that resonate with readers and bring your story to life.

Here are some tips to help you create distinctive voices for your characters:

Distinct Vocabulary: Choose words that reflect the character's background, personality, and education level. Consider their profession, interests, and experiences when selecting vocabulary. For example, a well-educated professor would likely use more sophisticated language.

Dialogue Quirks: Give each character specific speech patterns or quirks that set them apart. This could include repeated phrases, stuttering, using or avoiding contractions, or speaking in a particular dialect or accent. Be careful not to overdo it, though, as too much can become distracting.

Sentence Structure: Pay attention to the rhythm and structure of their sentences. Some characters might speak in short, abrupt sentences, while others might use long, flowing ones. This can convey their confidence, hesitation, or urgency.

Internal Monologue: Show the character's unique thought process through their internal monologue. This can help readers understand their motivations, fears, and desires, further distinguishing them from other characters. (This may not necessarily apply to your story if you're writing in a third person omniscient perspective, or if you intend to exclusively follow the internal monologue of the main character.)

Physical Gestures and Actions: Incorporate the character's physical gestures and actions into their dialogue to add depth to their voice. For example, a nervous character might fidget, slouch, or avoid eye contact while speaking, while a confident character might stand tall and make direct eye contact.

Background and History: Consider the character's background and history when crafting their voice. Their upbringing, cultural influences, and past experiences can all shape the way they speak and interact with others.

Consistency: It's important to maintain consistency in the character's voice throughout the story. Pay attention to their speech patterns, vocabulary, and mannerisms to ensure they remain true to their established personality.

Listen to Real Conversations: Pay attention to how people speak in real life, including their tone, vocabulary, and speech patterns. Drawing inspiration from real conversations can help you create authentic and believable dialogue for your characters.

Read Aloud: Reading your dialogue aloud can help you identify areas where the character's voice may not sound authentic. If it doesn't sound like something they would say, revise.

Avoid Stereotypes: While it's okay to draw inspiration from archetypes, be careful not to rely too heavily on stereotypes. Instead, strive to create complex, multidimensional characters with unique voices.

Hope this helps!

#writeblr #writing #writing tips #writing advice #writing help #writing resources #creative writing #character development #deception-united

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sergioguymanproust · 2 years

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Levitation begins in your heart ! We have been so brainwashed to believe there are certain limitations to our physicality. We have agreed and buried our heads in the sands of our imposed holographic matrix. I’m here to remind you all ,we are gods and goddesses! I have found myself standing out of my physical body next to my ethereal self in the rain in Hawaii during my performance,and yes.it was so natural being lighter than my earthy coil. Words by Sergio Guyman.

#levitation #we have more than just this physical body #oobe #our multidimensional being #words by sergioguyman #Humanity has been lied to #we are gods and goddesses

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haggishlyhagging · 2 months

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It took about two hours for Daina Taimina to find the solution that had eluded mathematicians for over a century. It was 1997, and the Latvian mathematician was participating in a geometry workshop at Cornell University. David Henderson, the professor leading the workshop, was modelling a hyperbolic plane constructed out of thin, circular strips of paper taped together. 'It was disgusting,' laughed Taimina in an interview.

A hyperbolic plane is 'the geometric opposite' of a sphere, explains Henderson in an interview with arts and culture magazine Cabinet. 'On a sphere, the surface curves in on itself and is closed. A hyperbolic plane is a surface in which the space curves away from itself at every point.' It exists in nature in ruffled lettuce leaves, in coral leaf, in sea slugs, in cancer cells. Hyperbolic geometry is used by statisticians when they work with multidimensional data, by Pixar animators when they want to simulate realistic cloth, by auto-industry engineers to design aerodynamic cars, by acoustic engineers to design concert halls. It's the foundation of the theory of relativity, and thus the closest thing we have to an understanding of the shape of the universe. In short, hyperbolic space is a pretty big deal.

But for thousands of years, hyperbolic space didn't exist. At least it didn't according to mathematicians, who believed that there were only two types of space: Euclidean, or flat space, like a table, and spherical space, like a ball. In the nineteenth century, hyperbolic space was discovered - but only in principle. And although mathematicians tried for over a century to find a way to successfully represent this space physically, no one managed it - until Taimina attended that workshop at Cornell. Because as well as being a professor of mathematics, Taimina also liked to crochet.

Taimina learnt to crochet as a schoolgirl. Growing up in Latvia, part of the former Soviet Union, 'you fix your own car, you fix your own faucet - anything', she explains. 'When I was growing up, knitting or any other handiwork meant you could make a dress or a sweater different from everybody else's.' But while she had always seen patterns and algorithms in knitting and crochet, Taimina had never connected this traditional, domestic, feminine skill with her professional work in maths. Until that workshop in 1997. When she saw the battered paper approximation Henderson was using to explain hyperbolic space, she realised: I can make this out of crochet.

And so that's what she did. She spent her summer 'crocheting a classroom set of hyperbolic forms' by the swimming pool. 'People walked by, and they asked me, "What are you doing?" And I answered, "Oh, I'm crocheting the hyperbolic plane."' She has now created hundreds of models and explains that in the process of making them 'you get a very concrete sense of the space expanding exponentially. The first rows take no time but the later rows can take literally hours, they have so many stitches. You get a visceral sense of what "hyperbolic" really means.' Just looking at her models did the same for others: in an interview with the New York Times Taimina recalled a professor who had taught hyperbolic space for years seeing one and saying, 'Oh, so that's how they look.' Now her creations are the standard model for explaining hyperbolic space.

-Caroline Criado Perez, Invisible Women

Photo credit

#caroline criado perez #Daina Taimina #women in stem #women’s history #women in science #crochet #crocheting #female mathematicians #hyperbolic space

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ancientgoddessofegypt · 3 months

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ASTROLOGY OBSERVATIONS PT. 13 DIVINE FEMININE - ART OF TRANSFORMATION

So I want to get into the signs, houses, and aspects that express a form of transformation that isn't recognized thru them majority of the time. Scorpio placements will be one of the energies I get into, however it isn't the only one that has this gift down pack.

All placements have different forms of healing & transformation. I'm just highlighting the observations I've been getting from each sign listed thus far.

Aries Rising/Virgo Placements - > These two energies have an ability to let go of their environments, circumstances and going deep into the mind to let things happen. What I mean is, both these placements are strictly head first in a lot of what they do and this can be a pretty tricky battle. The way they transform is through the heart, and the body and the mind follows suit after. At some point in their reality, they will have to let the mind go, in order to form the life they wish to live for themselves more openly.

For aries however, this isn't typically their issue. Their issue lies in always moving with their head, and not being strategic like their Virgo pals. Moves made first without thinking doesn't teach them anything and once they learn to allow the mind to form a new way of doing things this is where they challenge themselves and create a new persona.

Scorpio Placements deal with transformation a lot differently. It is an everyday cycle, not something they can shut up. Unlike their friends the virgos and aries, they can shut this down through their minds and can easily suppress things quicker. Scorpios, unfortunately cannot get the same. Because they feel everything. And I mean everything. And internally, they know whats the spiritual reason as to why they are the way they are so their pain/trauma is justified. The art of transformation for these cats is to look into that mirror into the void and explore the rage, warmth, the things that matter and the things that don't and letting it shape them. They have the wounds to impact others with healing methods if they just listen to themselves. The way they transform is through the psyche, the unconscious realms. Their doing shadow work without all the journaling or magic. It just comes to them.

Pisces/Neptune Placements are constantly shapeshifting. Their form of transforming is strictly from the ethereal realm, and it finds its way through physical activity or thru the imagination. Their world is constantly shifting and changing and in most cases you can find it through their clothing style, the way they express themselves and even thru their perspective. All 3 of the things I mention in conjunction all align together when something mentally changes them, since they are ruled by the subconscious/unconscious part of their brain more then their peers.

Moon/Cancer placements have a dark side that at some point of their life they shift into. Most never see this to be a real thing until well... something or someone changes them to that direction. This transformation is almost inevitable. They have to learn the darkside of their emotions or else it'll literally hurt them in the end. They must go down the dark depths of their soul to conquer the hidden array of demons that they kept under their beds so long ago. Skeletons in their closet is an understatement, its not the type that we are normally use to seeing from this group. You wouldn't believe their like that.

On the brighter side, this shows that these people are multidimensional and not just the sweet loving nurturing breed of individuals they normally keep you accustomed to. When they get to this phase, they aren't for the weak. So get use to it when the get their because they'll balance out both personalities for the better.

Libra Placements - Have a mental transformation they embark in throughout their life. Their perspectives change them in a way that forms a fair yet equal link to other humans as they're prone to be more selfish in the beginning. The heart is also where they transform, and it is through love they really can make a difference. Everything is prone to mental physics first, then the heart leads the way. Their not use to showing all their skin, but usually when they do its because something or someone made them bare their heart, for better or for worse. If it gets worse, than they'll start being the ones to play you for your heart. If best, they'll learn to share that love in all ways as their charm lights up even more. For individuals who are normally private, their vulnerabilities is what sheds away the old demons and become aware of their souls embarking on ways compassion could heal them and others around them.

Virgos have to live a little, that's simple. Normally the picture perfect group, they have to focus on the heart and the body and NOT what the mind is telling them. They can't live in those rose colored glasses they made themselves. They gotta let things around them be as it may, and they can join the circus if they like. Being more open to things outside of their comfort zone challenges their old self, while creating a new one. Something shifts inside of their body before that transformation really starts to hit. Their the rulers of the maiden-mother-crone phase. Psychological something changes them during certain points in their life weakening they old self and making new beginnings form with experience. They are connected to the kundalini and the serpent mind. More to come on this seperately.

#astrology thoughts #astrology #astrology theories #tropical astrology #astrology observations #astro observations #astro notes #astro thoughts

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wayti-blog · 9 months

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I'm not afraid of death because I don't believe in it. It's just getting out of one car, and into another.

John Lennon

#john lennon #death #passing on #hereafter #afterlife #multidimensional #physical planes #spiritual planes #rebirth #reincarnation #soul #spirit #earth school #soul path #soul journey #evolution #eternal life #love

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vague-humanoid · 9 months

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“You may have been told that you need glasses, but that’s actually a lie.” So says Samantha Lotus, a self-described “holistic master coach” and Canadian online wellness influencer, who says she can teach you to see clearly again for only $11. Lotus is offering her tens of thousands of social media followers the chance to throw away their glasses and heal the “spiritual, emotional, mental and physical reasons” behind their bad eyesight, according to an Instagram post. Lotus says she teaches “holistic multidimensional healing” methods and has already healed her own eyesight, so that she no longer needs glasses, according to her social media.

as seen in this thread

@startorrent02

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mysticstronomy · 4 months

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HOW CAN SPACE BE INFINITE??

Blog#372

Saturday, February 3rd, 2024.

Welcome back,

It's one of the most compelling questions you could possibly ask, one that humanity has been asking since basically the beginning of time: What's beyond the known limits? What's past the edge of our maps? The ultimate version of this question is, What lies outside the boundary of the universe?

The answer is — well, it's complicated.

To answer the question of what's outside the universe, we first need to define exactly what we mean by "universe." If you take it to mean literally all the things that could possibly exist in all of space and time, then there can't be anything outside the universe. Even if you imagine the universe to have some finite size, and you imagine something outside that volume, then whatever is outside also has to be included in the universe.

Even if the universe is a formless, shapeless, nameless void of absolutely nothing, that's still a thing and is counted on the list of "all the things" — and, hence, is, by definition, a part of the universe.

If the universe is infinite in size, you don't really need to worry about this conundrum. The universe, being all there is, is infinitely big and has no edge, so there's no outside to even talk about.

Oh, sure, there's an outside to our observable patch of the universe. The cosmos is only so old, and light only travels so fast.

So, in the history of the universe, we haven't received light from every single galaxy. The current width of the observable universe is about 90 billion light-years. And presumably, beyond that boundary, there's a bunch of other random stars and galaxies.

But past that? It's hard to tell.

Cosmologists aren't sure if the universe is infinitely big or just extremely large.

To measure the universe, astronomers instead look at its curvature. The geometric curve on large scales of the universe tells us about its overall shape. If the universe is perfectly geometrically flat, then it can be infinite. If it's curved, like Earth's surface, then it has finite volume.

Current observations and measurements of the curvature of the universe indicate that it is almost perfectly flat. You might think this means the universe is infinite.

But it's not that simple. Even in the case of a flat universe, the cosmos doesn't have to be infinitely big. Take, for example, the surface of a cylinder. It is geometrically flat, because parallel lines drawn on the surface remain parallel (that's one of the definitions of "flatness"), and yet it has a finite size. The same could be true of the universe: It could be completely flat yet closed in on itself.

But even if the universe is finite, it doesn't necessarily mean there is an edge or an outside. It could be that our three-dimensional universe is embedded in some larger, multidimensional construct. That's perfectly fine and is indeed a part of some exotic models of physics. But currently, we have no way of testing that, and it doesn't really affect the day-to-day operations of the cosmos.

And I know this is extremely headache-inducing, but even if the universe has a finite volume, it doesn't have to be embedded.

Originally published on https://www.space.com

COMING UP!!

(Wednesday, February 7th, 2024)

"CAN A GALAXY BE INVISIBLE??"

#astronomy #outer space #alternate universe #astrophysics #universe #spacecraft #white universe #space #parallel universe #astrophotography #how will the universe end

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ckret2 · 7 months

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Chapter 24 of human Bill Cipher being the Mystery Shack's extremely inconvenient prisoner, featuring: the Pines figuring out a way to chase off Bill's ex-girlfriend... who happens to be a giant eyeball with bat wings.

It kinda goes like this.

(A head's up before we get going: this chapter is a bit more mature than prior ones, so I feel like a warning's in order. There's no sex, and nothing here is erotic or sexy (unless you, too, happen to be attracted to eye-bats), BUT there IS some academic speculation on the logistics of alien sex, and some very filthy-sounding dialogue describing acts that, to humans, aren't sexual at all. Plus some dirty humor and toilet humor. And nothing here is what I'd call billford quite yet, considering Ford still very much hates Bill's guts—but like, he's definitely a little too obsessed with the anatomy of triangles for it to be normal. If any of this is too spicy for you, skip this chapter and come back next one. We'll be starting a new "episode" then.)

####

It was past midnight. In his search for the eye-bat repellant recipe, Ford had flipped through every notebook he'd used during his initial interviews of the residents of Gravity Falls, flipped through them a second time, torn apart half his bookshelves looking for any reporter's notebooks he might have accidentally sorted in with his larger binders, and now he was exhausted, frustrated—and, worst of all, bored out of his mind.

Which made it hard to avoid thinking about more interesting topics.

And for the last hour he'd been unwillingly plagued with the question of how an eyeball and a triangle had a "casual physical thing."

If that didn't mean sex—and you never knew with aliens—then it was still something close enough to fill the same social/recreational niche. It certainly meant sex on the eye-bat's side, Ford had fully documented the reproductive cycle of eye-bats, that was sorted out—but triangles?

It had to be something that would work in the second dimension. Ford had visited a two-dimensional universe populated by geometric shapes, he knew roughly how their bodies functioned: a shape's perimeter was its external surface—its "skin"—and its internal organs were inside that perimeter. So if Bill was still configured the way he had been in his home dimension, any external reproductive anatomy would have to be somewhere on his perimeter, right? Maybe at one of his corners? Or camouflaged where the seams of his brick pattern reached his edges?

But then if Bill were a normal two-dimensional person, he'd have his eye on the edge of his body, not right in the center of his "internal organs." So he'd been rearranged to some extent. Who knew how the rest of his body worked now? His top hat contained flesh and a skeletal structure; maybe it was a removable reproductive organ that could be passed to a partner, like some cephalopods' detachable tentacles—

Ford flinched as he realized Bill was staring at him.

To aid in his anatomical speculation, Ford had drawn a diagram of Bill in his journal and labeled various points on the triangle that might be concealing reproductive anatomy. He quickly scratched out the drawing's staring eye and slammed his journal shut.

He'd happily gone thirty years assuming that Bill had no sex life—Bill was an energy being who presented himself as a floating featureless triangle, his hobbies involved cheating at chess and discussing multidimensional transportation, he probably wasn't designed for "physical things," and if he was designed for it then surely he wasn't interested. Ford was not pleased to have his assumptions disputed.

Because the thing was—Ford knew more than any living human about the mating rituals of unicorns, werewolf/mermaid couples, stomach-faced ducks, and tentacled warrior piglets. (Did he ever know about tentacled warrior piglets.) He had the only photos of a gnome mating ball, which he didn't need, because that horrible sight would be forever seared into his long-term memory. He knew the names of twenty obscene acts in siren sign language, and knew how to use his extra fingers to make them extra obscene. This wasn't unfamiliar territory to him. He was curious about how strange, supernatural creatures functioned; and those functions included how the reproductive drive influenced their behaviors; and a living triangle that had escaped from the second dimension was certainly a strange supernatural creature.

But, unfortunately, it was also Bill Cipher. And Ford did not want to think about what Bill did in bed. ... Assuming he used a bed. Really, at this point the only thing Ford knew was that Bill's only admitted partner was capable of flight. Maybe he just hovered while he—

Ford slammed his journal shut again to stop himself from scribbling down more theories, then stuffed the journal in a desk drawer for good measure. Did normal people think like this? He had no idea. He didn't even know who he could ask.

Enough of this. Back to searching for that eye-bat repellant recipe, and this time he wasn't stopping until he found it.

####

Like a vast eye in an upside-down triangle, the circular center of the portal lit up so bright blue it was almost white. The four energy vents glowed in sympathy. A rainbow constellation lit up in twirling patterns around the central light.

Bill watched with bated breath, a second-dimensional shadow waiting for his door to the third dimension to open. The cavern walls shook; the ground quaked and rumbled ominously; Bill didn't care. The portal was stable, the lab was somebody else's problem, and Bill had a party to get to.

The steel beams supporting the cavern rolled like a wave, and Bill's stomach roiled with them. They weren't supposed to be able to move like that. But he knew what he was doing, the portal was stable, he was not here to destroy this world, he'd come here to save it, whether it wanted to be saved or not—

The whole world undulated. Bedrock and steel were not built to undulate. Bill bobbed on the energy wave like a toy boat on a choppy sea; but the steel shattered, rock crumbled, shrapnel and rubble sprayed out. There was a peal of deafening thunder as the world below him cracked apart.

####

Bill woke with a gasp.

Oh. Right. Dreams.

Dream diary. With a groan, he sat up, checked to make sure no humans were coming by in the next few minutes, and pulled his stolen journal out of its hiding place.

The guide on lucid dreaming had recommended writing down his dreams in full, vivid, rich detail—any people or scenes or events, anything he could detect with his five (?) senses, as much as he could recall.

He drew a portal—gray inverted triangle with a center circle, four circles around the triangle, all five circles filled in yellow green—and then a yellow green line trailing out of the portal's side that grew progressively wigglier like a seismogram. He labeled his doodle, "this." He'd remember the rest.

After a moment of thought, he wrote, "Don't remember if I was a human or a shape. My organs were doing things a shape's shouldn't." (He wrote "human" as 人; there was no translation for the word in the language Bill wrote in. The two angled strokes stood out in Bill's rows of Morse-like dots and dashes.) "Being around so many humans who are CONVINCED I'm trying to destroy their world must be getting to me. Sixer pitched another hissy-fit about the portal yesterday. Enduring all that negative talk can't be healthy for me. I know I'm just helping their boring little planet, but maybe their accusations are getting lodged in this stupid brain's subconscious."

Maybe he should meditate a bit—go think positive thoughts, drown out the mortal voices that insisted they knew his plans better than he did. He'd had enough dreaming for one night, anyway.

Beneath the note to himself, Bill added in English: "Everything would have been fine if you'd just let me finish, Fordsy." If the humans ever did find this journal, Bill was determined to get the last word in.

Then he stowed away the stolen journal and shuffled downstairs.

He wondered how much was left of Ford's portal.

####

Old man bladder. Stan dragged himself out of bed. The other guest room bed was empty. Stan hoped Ford was sleeping in his study—he'd mentioned once he kept a cot down there. Better than pulling another all nighter studying alien sorcery or whatever.

He skipped his glasses, groped his way to the downstairs bathroom, and, yawning, lined up with the toilet.

The toilet said, "Pretty forward of you, Stanley."

Stan screamed.

He stumbled backwards out of the bathroom and hit the wall. Bill flipped on the light and leaned out to grin at him. "Careful! You're due for a broken hip any day now."

"BILL! What are DOING!"

"Trying not to get urinated on."

"Jsh—shut up!" It had dawned on Stan that if he could hear Bill without his hearing aids, then half the house probably could too. He hoped no one had overheard that. "Why are you sitting on the toilet in the dark!"

"It's a free country, Stanley Pines."

Stan raised a fist. "GET OUT!"

Bill bolted from the bathroom like a scared rabbit, then caught himself, rolled his eyes, and raised his hands over his head in mock surrender. "You could have asked nicely!"

Pointing at Bill as he retreated, Stan added, "And stop being so darn creepy! Lurking in the dark and sneaking around silently all the time, like a... some kind of—burglar ninja assassin!"

Bill turned to shout back, "What, do you expect me to make a peace cry every time I walk around? Make sure I can't sneak up and stab you in the back?"

Stan had caught about half of that. "YEAH, smart guy! It might help!"

Bill flung his hands out in defeat as he rounded the corner.

Stan finished his business, went back to bed, and glared angrily at the ceiling another ten minutes.

####

It had taken half the night, but at last Ford had disassembled the filing cabinet and found a few notebooks that had gotten stuck behind the bottom drawer, including the one with Old Lady Sprott's eye-bat repellant recipe. Ford copied it down, left a list of ingredients on the gift shop cash register for Soos, and finally dragged himself into the house to sleep.

And paused in the entryway.

Bill was sitting in the kitchen, staring out the window; Ford had seen him like this before. Usually, he could make himself walk by.

But he couldn't tonight. Maybe it was yesterday's conversation still weighing on his mind, the loose ends they hadn't tied up tangling around his throat. "What are you doing up?"

Bill's voice was inappropriately calm: "Dying."

Ford's guard went up. "Do you... Literally or metaphorically?"

"Literally," Bill said. "Hey—how many decades do you think this body's got? Probably not even a century, right?"

Ford's guard went down. Just moping. But it was an interesting question, one he'd put some thought into himself—what age had Bill's body been made at? How had his body been made that age? How long would the body last? Ford had wondered whether studying Bill's freshly-made-but-already-adult body might reveal anything medically useful about how aging affected the human body; but the odds of convincing Bill to participate in any medical studies—much less finding someone to conduct the study who believed their story—were nonexistent.

Ford said, "At a loose guess, I'd put you around... fifty, maybe? A very spry fifty." Bill's hair was a shockingly vivid gold, not a hint of gray, and when he was in a good mood Bill bounced about with an enviable lack of joint pain; but Ford had seen faint, delicate creases around his mouth and eyes that spoke to age. And the look in his eyes... Ford hated the phrase "old soul"—he'd been called that by some of his school teachers, and it only made him feel the distance between himself and his age peers all the more strongly—but with Bill, it was uncannily fitting. His eyes aged his whole face.

"You think this thing looks fifty? Wow." Bill took a deep drink from a cider can. "Shooting Star's best guess was half that. Thanks for shoving me twenty-five years closer to the grave."

Half that? When Ford had been a child, he'd had a harder time guessing adults' ages, and he supposed Mabel might be the same; but it was difficult to mistake a 50-year-old for a 25-year-old. Maybe there was something else going on. He'd have to ask her later. "With exercise, a healthy diet, and a little luck, you could still live another fifty." Ford nodded at the two empty cider cans already sitting on the table. "With your current drinking habits, I'll give you five."

Bill cackled—loudly enough to make Ford tense up, afraid someone would catch them talking. "Cheers!" Bill finished off the can and slammed it down with the others. "Ugh. Finite lifespans. Awful."

"Welcome to being human," Ford said dryly.

"'Welcome to death row,'" Bill said. "Ha! What'm I doing, worrying about decades. Let's be real, I don't even need to worry about the next five years. If I haven't found a way out of this body before then..."

Bill left the thought unfinished. An uneasy weight formed low in Ford's stomach.

"Ah, whatever. Like you'd let me live that long. Right, Sixer?" Bill pushed himself up unsteadily, keeping his balance first with a hand on the back of the chair, and then on Ford's (suddenly very tense) shoulder as he passed him. "I'm going back to sleep before that last can kicks in."

The way Bill was walking, Ford wasn't sure he'd make it up the stairs. "Why don't you sleep on the folding bed in the living room?"

"No window," Bill said. "I've g—" (He stumbled on the stairs.) "I've gotta see the stars."

Of course he did. When Bill said it that way, it was so obvious Ford didn't know why he hadn't realized that himself. Where else could Bill sleep but as close to the sky as possible?

Ford listened as Bill stumbled his way upstairs, creaked across the floorboards, and collapsed onto his makeshift bed.

Ford had thirty years left. Exactly thirty years. Don't have a heart attack, you're not ninety-two yet! Ninety-two was a good, old age. Older than his father had been. But thirty years felt too soon. And yet it felt fitting, somehow, for his life to be divided so neatly in thirds.

If Bill lived another fifty years in this body, and Ford lived thirty, who would stand guard over him? Would he and Stan have to pass that burden on to their gniece and gnephew? Or to Soos and Melody?

Why was he wondering—what made him think they wouldn't find a way to kill Bill before then? What made him think he wouldn't kill Bill before the end of this very summer?

What made him so sure Bill hadn't been lying about when Ford would die? Thirty years felt too soon; but ninety-two felt flatteringly optimistic.

Ford sighed, and picked up the cider cans to recycle.

He wondered whether Bill—hiding from his ex, fretting about death, sleeping on his enemies' floor—regretted how he'd spent his life.

####

Bill's second entry in his dream diary started, "Wet dream about Iris."

He filled most of a page with an extremely graphic summary before he sighed in frustration, stowed the journal away, and stared at the ceiling as dawn crept in. Well. Terrific. He was pretty intimately familiar with how humans coupled, but he didn't have much practice with the solo act. Plus the humans would give him heck if they caught him at it. He'd just have to suffer.

So here he was, all riled up and nowhere to go.

Who else could he make miserable?

####

Stan was startled awake by a heavy pounding on his door.

"Heeey Fisherman!" Somehow, Bill's voice was even more grating at dawn. He rattled the door several more times. "Just passing by! Wanted to let you know! Here I am! Right here!"

Did that demon ever sleep? And, follow up question, could Stan knock him out for a few hours?

Ford—who must have come up after Stan went back to bed—groaned and muttered something.

Ford wasn't nearly as loud as Bill. Stan reluctantly sat up and put a hearing aid in. "What?"

"What the devil is he up to now."

"No idea," Stan lied. "Go yell at him about it, he listens to you."

Ford sighed, but got up and left the room.

A minute later, Stan heard Bill exclaim, "I can't win with you people!"

He smirked.

####

The kitchen reeked that morning. When Stan came in for breakfast, the window was open, a fan in the entryway futilely directed fresh air into the kitchen and a fan on the kitchen table directed the noxious fumes outside, there were bags of groceries on the counter—he noticed hot sauce, peppers, cheap perfume, and an entire bag of raw onions—and Ford was standing at the stove, stirring a pot of vile-smelling brown liquid. The moment he saw Stan, Ford put him to work stirring the pot so Ford could start dicing onions.

While they worked, Ford explained the situation with the eye-bat harassing the tourists and the solution he'd hit on to drive it away. Soos had collected the necessary ingredients this morning, but couldn't help cook because he was busy finding a way to block the bottomless pit—

####

Outside, Soos scooted a trampoline up to the pit, carefully lined it up with the edge—the trampoline and the pit had nearly the same diameter—and shoved it in. It plummeted into the dark. After a short wait, Soos chucked a baseball down the pit. It disappeared, then bounced back up.

Soos pumped his fist triumphantly. "Aced it."

####

—so, Ford was working on the repellant, and in the interest of public safety and the greater good he was drafting Stan into helping too.

Which Stan supposed he couldn't argue with, but considering the smell he would've preferred dicing the onions. "Is all this really necessary for one eye-bat? I usually just swat 'em off with a tennis racket."

"This eye-bat happens to be large enough to carry off a first-grader," Ford said. "And Bill claims it's his ex-girlfriend, so I don't want to risk them meeting."

"Huh." Weird thing to date, but then Stan didn't know what he did expect a triangle demon to date. "Somehow I figured he was tangled up in this."

Ford laughed ruefully.

After a moment of chopping and stirring, Ford said, "Speaking of Bill—he claims that you ordered him to announce his presence? And that you tried to pee on him."

"I did not and he's a dirty liar! He made the whole thing up!" Stan didn't expect Ford to believe him. Stan also didn't expect Ford to believe Bill. Ford knew they were both liars. What Stan expected was for Ford to side with the person he liked best.

"Uh huh." Ford didn't question Stan further. Ha. Pines solidarity.

Even though he'd already won, Stan went on: "All I did was mention how quiet he is! I can never tell where he's lurking. Sometimes I almost forget he's here." In Stan's mind, Bill had been rapidly demoted from "active existential threat" to "annoying houseguest who blends in with the shadows." Watching him help Mabel cut pretty pictures from fashion magazines with plastic safety scissors drained away most of his intimidation factor.

Ford gave Stan a funny look. "Really? I can't forget he's here for a second. Sometimes I swear I can tell where he's been in the house—like a cold spot left by a ghost."

Stan tried to figure out how to ask whether that was a reaction to decades on the run feeling like hunted prey—which Stan knew how to cope with—or a lingering magical side effect of Ford and Bill's alien possession deal—which Stan did not. Then Ford added, "It's probably because I hear him bumping into the furniture all the time."

"Oh. Yeah. That's probably it. You've got better hearing than me." Case closed. Stan turned back to the stove—

A deafening buzz made them both start. Stan splashed boiling brown stink across the stovetop. "What—!"

Standing in the doorway with a kazoo, Bill said, "How's that, Stanley? Do you like that better?!"

"YOU!" Stan flung the stirring spoon to the floor.

Bill bolted from the room with Stan in hot pursuit. "Whoa! Mercy! Truce! You can have the kazoo! It's not even mine, I'm just holding it for a fr— Ow ow OW ow—"

Stan hauled Bill in by the back of the neck and didn't let go until he was in the middle of the kitchen. He pointed at the spoon, then pointed at the pot. "Pick it up. Get stirring." He grabbed another knife and joined Ford chopping onions. Whew, what a relief.

Bill gave Stan a perplexed look, but picked up the spoon, gave the pot an experimental sniff, and got stirring. He didn't even wince at the smell. "Is this the gnome wizz? What is this, punishment for not letting you use me as a urinal?"

"Whatsamatter, I thought you were the one who thinks pee belongs in the kitchen."

"You're both too old for toilet humor," Ford snapped. "Bill, this problem is your fault, the least you can do is help prepare the spray, and you're not getting a knife, so you're on pot stirring duty. Deal with it."

Bill rolled his eyes dramatically. (At the moment, they were both uncovered; but one was already half squinted shut against the morning light.) "Fine, but only because I like hanging out with you."

Ford scoffed.

"And I don't see how this is my fault just because we happened to date. It's not like I invited her over," Bill went on. "If anything, you should be grateful she's my ex, or else I wouldn't be helping you chase her away—"

"Hey, that's what I wanna know about this," Stan said. He gestured toward the window; the ex in question was currently circling above the gift shop entrance, like a vulture waiting for something to die. "Exactly how do you 'date' an eye-bat? Just—how does that work?"

"Well, it depends on the eye-bat, doesn't it," Bill said, a touch patronizing. "They don't all have the same tastes, you know. But she happens to like art films and water parks. Easy date."

"I'm not talking about that! You're telling us you slept with an eyeball with bat wings—right? That's what we're talking about, right?" From the corner of his eye, Stan saw Ford giving him a sharp look, but he didn't tell Stan to stop. Yeah, the nerd was curious, too.

"Yes, Stanley." Bill's condescension was almost more overpowering than the kitchen's stench. "That's what we're talking about. I 'slept' with an eyeball with bat wings." He exaggerated the finger quotes around the euphemism. "Any more prying you want to do into my personal life, or...?"

"You look at that freak out there and think it's appealing?"

Bill stopped stirring and squinted out the window. Flatly, he said, "Yep. She's still drop dead gorgeous. Thanks for asking."

"How do you even know that's a she! How can you tell a girl eye from a boy eye?"

Ford said, "Technically, Stanley, all eye-bats are female." He held up an onion and used his knife tip to gesture at it like it was a model eyeball, "They're parthenogenetic parasites that reproduce by attacking other species' faces and depositing egg-bearing spores on their eyeballs, which swim to the tear ducts to begin incubating. Over the next few weeks, the infected eyeball grows wings and develops its own nervous system while the host slowly goes blind in one eye, until the new eye-bat is mature enough to emerge from the host's socket and seek out her mother's colony—"

Bill let out a strangled scream. "Enough!"

Stan and Ford stared at him.

"Would you stop talking about eye-bat sex?! I'm already riled up! I don't need help making it worse!"

He slammed the stirring spoon down and started pacing. "I'm losing my mind. Do you know what it's like to be randy for something you don't have the right body for?!" He gave them a pleading, slightly crazed look. "I need to feel her pupil contracting against mine. I'd lick her hot, salty tears off her sclera. I'd bite deep enough to taste her retina. I want to look like I've got pinkeye from all the bat spores coating my face. I'd give my right eye just to have one of her wings fingering my eyelid again—but if I cave and go that far I know I'd lose my head and give her the left one too, and then I've screwed up, because STUPID HUMANS BODIES can't regrow their STUPID EYEBALLS—"

He kicked the wall so hard he lost his balance and stumbled back into the stove. "Ow. I'm going insane. I can't take it. I need to kill somebody. I need to set something on fire."

Stan and Ford were petrified. Stan's jaw had dropped.

Bill was panting from the exertion of his outburst, arms trembling, face flushed. His shoulders slumped. The picture of a broken man, he said, "I'd do anything to rim her optic nerve again."

Ford let out a strangled noise.

Bill took several deep breaths. He rubbed his forehead. "Sorry! Wow. That was... I think the fumes are getting to me." He shook his head. "The fumes and the hormones. Human hormones. You know, your species has very insistent..." He gestured vaguely toward the doorway. "I'm—think I should lay down."

Stan and Ford nodded. Bill trudged from the room. A few seconds later, Stan heard springs creak as Bill flopped his full weight on the living room sofa.

Stan and Ford exchanged a look. Stan said, "I shouldn't have asked about..."

"You shouldn't have asked."

"You should have skipped the science lesson."

"I should have."

They lapsed into silence. After a moment, Ford stood up to take over stirring the pot.

Stan resumed chopping onions. "Say, d'you think he staged all that to get out of stirring?"

Ford didn't reply.

"Sixer?" Stan glanced up.

Ford had turned away from the stove, and was staring at nothing with a faraway, troubled look. It was the look he got when he'd just latched on to some mystery that would haunt him until he solved it.

"Ford—?"

Ford slapped down the spoon and stomped into the living room. "But you hate losing your eyeball! So how did you two— I mean—! The spores—?"

"Incompatible biology." Bill's voice sounded muffled. "It's why we never got serious. She wants kids and my tear ducts can't incubate wings."

"Ah! Of course. That makes perfect sense." Ford returned to the stove with a look of triumph.

Stan didn't know how Ford had recovered from that fast enough to ask follow-up questions. Weird nerd. Stan shook his head but said nothing.

####

In Ford's journal, he scratched out most of his speculation about the anatomy of Bill's species, scribbled over the diagram, and added, "I severely underestimated how much his eye is involved."

####

At one point, during Weirdmageddon, when Bill had been torturing Ford for information, Ford had spat in his eye. Bill had licked it off. He'd seemed eerily undisturbed.

Ford would probably wonder how Bill had interpreted that act for the rest of his life.

####

Outside, dressed in a homemade hazmat suit consisting of painter's coveralls and a scuba mask, Soos faced off against the eye-bat, a spray bottle strapped to each hip like a cowboy's revolvers. Dipper and Mabel stood behind him, armed with a rake and a golf club, wearing a bicycle helmet and a football helmet with tree branches taped on. The eye-bat stared them down warily.

Leaning on his elbows over the kitchen table so he could stare out the window, Bill said, "Bet you a hundred bucks she steals Questiony's hat."

Stan snorted. "I'm not taking that bet. You don't have any money."

Bill grunted and turned back to the window, just in time to see the eye-bat dive for Soos's face. Soos whipped out one of the spray bottles, dropped it, ducked down to retrieve it just as she swooped past where his head used to be, and lifted it in time to spray the eye-bat when she circled back to attack him again. She reeled off screeching, eye watering, pupil contracting. Bill winced in sympathy. Poor gal. And she didn't even have an eyelid for protection. But, hey—better for her to suffer than for Bill to risk getting caught in this body. He'd take someone else's pain over his own embarrassment any day.

"It seems to be working the same as it does on any other eye-bat," Ford said. "Good. Once she's gone, Soos and the kids can spray the rest on the roof. That should drive her off while keeping the worst of the scent away from the tourists."

Streaming tears, the eye-bat dove at the kids. They yelled in alarm. Dipper threw his rake at her and missed. Bill flipped up his eyepatch to squint at the battle with both eyes.

"What, do you see something?" Stan asked.

"Just appreciating her sphericality." Bill sighed wistfully. "That spray's gotta be excruciatingly painful—but, I've never seen her that wet before. Sure, we've fooled around with a little hot sauce a few times, but even then—"

"I'm sorry I asked."

Outside, Soos shouted, "Hey! My hat! Give that back!"

Bill wordlessly held a hand out toward Stan.

Stan smacked it away. "Nyeh."

As the eye-bat retreated toward the forest, Ford sighed in relief. "She's gone. It worked."

"You sound surprised," Bill said.

"Frankly, I can't believe that you gave us accurate information on how to get rid of her."

"What! You wound me! Why would I lie about that?"

"To trick us into doing something that strengthens her? To arrange an opportunity to meet her?" Ford suggested. "After all, as one of your Henchmaniacs, she could have helped you escape."

Bill's blood ran cold.

She could have helped him escape. SHE COULD HAVE HELPED HIM ESCAPE! He'd been so worried about not looking stupid or losing his eyes, when all this time—! He could have signaled Iris from the window, and—and the bottomless pit was right there, she could have carried a message to the gang—at the very least, she could probably open doors for him—and instead he just—when he could have—

He watched in despair as Iris's pretty little optic nerve vanished behind the trees.

No, Bill decided—no, getting her help was a terrible plan. If it was a good plan, he would have done it; so it was terrible. He had a better plan. What was his better plan?

"Come on, you think I need her? I've got all the pals I need right here—whether you're ready to admit it or not." He elbowed Ford. Bill had decided he'd wheedle Ford back over to his side, and he would. His survival depended on it. Now more than ever. "I've got a way out, don't worry about that—it's only a matter of time—and she's not part of the plan."

Ford scoffed. "Really. Last night you were moaning about being on death row."

"Wh—Hey! That was..." Not fair. He scrambled to revise his story.

"You're lying about something," Ford said. "If it wasn't how to get rid of her, then it was why you wanted to get rid of her. For all we know, maybe she wants you dead as much as we do."

"Yeah," Stan said, "the 'girlfriend' story sounds crazy enough to be true, but you seem like the kind of guy who has a string of exes who'd love to kill you." (He did, as it happened, but it wasn't his fault he kept falling for petty jealous psychos who hated seeing him thrive.)

Ford said, "If she hadn't been a danger to the tourists, perhaps I should have invited her in to talk."

Unbelievable. Even when Bill did exactly what he was supposed to, he was still the bad guy. "Fine, she was a notorious black widow and you saved my life, happy? Do you like that story better? I made it up just for you." He jabbed a finger in Ford's shoulder. "You know what your problem is? You're too paranoid. You can't trust anything anybody says. You'll only hurt yourself like that—"

Ford shoved Bill's hand away and stepped out of poking range. "I spent years unlearning the paranoia you gave me. And when I finished, do you know what I figured out, Bill? All along, there was only one person I shouldn't have trusted: you."

It stung, but only in a distant, impersonal way; like a hard slap on a numb cheek. Bill turned to give Ford a sour look. "At the lengths you take it to, I could tell you the sky is blue and you'd have to check."

Ford's gaze automatically flickered toward the window.

"Ha!" Bill angrily shoved the table against the wall as he stood up. "Thanks for taking care of my pest problem, boys." He stormed upstairs, flipping his hood up as he went. Ingrates.

####

The view out the attic window was more interesting than usual, mainly because there were three humans traipsing around on the roof spraying eye-bat repellant. From time to time Mabel came by to make funny faces at Bill through the glass; he did his best to one-up them. Once, Soos nearly fell off the roof and died; Bill hadn't laughed that hard since he was murdered.

Their return indoors was heralded by Mabel shouting, "Dibs on the shower!" and Dipper replying, "I take shorter showers, let me go first!" They pounded up the stairs. Mabel tried to take them two at a time, tripped near the top, and by the time she recovered Dipper was already in the bathroom. She groaned. "Augh! Not fair! I don't want to smell like onions and gnome pee!"

"Neither do I! I need it more, I haven't showered in two weeks!"

Bill wondered why Dipper got to go so long between showers without getting dumped in a cold tub in his sleep. (He knew why.)

Bill whistled to catch Mabel's attention. "Consolation prize." He waved a cheap perfume bottle toward Mabel. "We had leftovers after mixing the repellant. It smells like strawberry candy."

"You're my hero." Mabel took the bottle and sprayed it all over herself, in her hair, and under her sweater. "You need a shower too, you know."

"Sure, but until Dolores fumigates the kitchen I'll just blend into the background stink. I can put it off til tomorrow without anyone complaining."

"You're grossss." Mabel emphasized the hiss by poking Bill's arm. "Once I'm clean, I'm not talking to you until you've showered too."

"I'll be devastated."

"Those are my terms!" She kicked aside Bill's cushion-bed so she could sit under the window without stinking the cushions up, and settled back to wait for the bathroom. After a (very short) companionable silence, Mabel said, "It's too bad we had to chase off your ex. I can see why you like her."

Bill gave her a surprised look. "Can you?"

"Iris was so graceful!" Mabel said. "And murderous, but mostly graceful. Like an evil swan."

Bill laughed. "Yeah! Yeah, she is. Floats like a dream. If you think she's graceful in the air, you oughta see her in the pool. She's the only person I know who can make a cannonball look elegant."

Mabel gave him a sly grin.

"What?"

"Look at you. Yooou still like heeer." Mabel propped her elbows on the edge of the window seat and balanced her chin in her hands. "How did you meet Iris?"

For the last couple of days, almost everyone in the house had talked about Bill's ex like she was some kind of malevolent creature, rather than a person. He was used to outsiders talking about his friends that way—heck, most of his friends were malevolent creatures—but it grated all the same. (He missed home.) Just hearing Mabel call Iris by her name was a breath of fresh air. No one else had even asked if she had a name.

"I met her at a party," Bill said. "I'd just gotten a piano and was showing off, and she came by to ask about Earth music. She wasn't in my crew then—but the party was open invite, and everyone in that corner of the Nightmare Realm knew that if you wanted info on Earth, you came to Bill Cipher. So, we talked about waltzes and tarantellas, I played a little Beethoven, we hit things off..."

They talked until the bathroom was free and Mabel went to shower. Sweet kid. Hopeless romantic, though.

When Bill got out of this place, he was gonna find the first boy who would break her heart and kill him before they could meet. It was the least he could do for her.

####

The third entry in Bill's dream diary: "Shooting Star's cartoon is getting to me. I dreamed about the wolf and the cat arguing over who had to host someone's birthday party. The wolf refused to let guests into his enormous mansion, but the cat's house was burning down. They asked me how to resolve this. I told them the cat should execute the wolf as punishment for his inhospitality, take over his mansion, and wear his skin as the party host. The animals were so in awe of my wisdom that I was deified as god of the jungle."

That was not what he'd dreamed. The animals were so horrified at his suggestion that they'd tied him to a stake and forced him to watch as they threw the cat into the flames of her own house. He couldn't remember whether he'd dreamed that he was a triangle or a human.

He preferred his version. Once he'd regained control over his dreams, he could replay this one and make it end properly.

He'd get the hang of this in no time.

####

(You're legally required to tell me if you had a reaction to this one. Even if it's horror. Especially if it's horror.)

#bill cipher #human bill cipher #grunkle ford #ford pines #grunkle stan #stan pines #gravity falls #gravity falls fanart #gravity falls fic #fanart #my art #my writing #bill goldilocks cipher

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talonabraxas · 9 days

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Merkabah is the energy field surrounding your aura. It activates on its own as a result of a change in consciousness. This means that an enlightened person’s magnetic field reflects the fact that they have developed a pattern of consciousness that allows for unlimited perspective due to the limitations of the physical dimension.

Merkabah “chariot” Talon Abraxas

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weirdly-specific-but-ok · 8 days

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While making @multidimensional-trashcan finish (read: start) his physics presentation for two hours (in sickness and health, my darling), I did a lil doodle.

Look I'm trying to be an Artist who Knows to Art >:]