cosmo s

There’s a 250 light-year hole in the center of emission nebula N44 and astronomers aren’t sure why. It could be that particle winds from massive stars are pushing out the gas. Perhaps a more compelling explanation though, based on the detection of X-ray emitting gas, is that supernova explosions carved out this cavern!

(Image Credit: Gemini Obs., AURA, NSF | via


in the first few fairly oddparents shorts cosmo is way more smart and not nearly as unfunctional as he is now - so i made a tragic backstory out of it, to give cosmo’s increasing stupidity throughout the show a reason :’D

(although timmy is probably just surprised to hear cosmo talk in sentences that have internal logic)

(also: philip the nickel cameo!)

This is my new beautiful boy, Cosmo. He’s nearly 11months old. He’s a lab x husky.

He loves to play fetch, and tug. Although he’s a big boy, he’s very scared of strange people, and dogs. He’s a very good boy, and sleeps on my bed. He gives me hugs and kissies. He’s the best boy. 🖤

INFORMATION for British people who need spelling help and/or for non-Brits trying to convincingly write UK English (e.g. in fanfic):

it’s “practise” with an S when it’s a verb

like “I am going to practise my spelling”


it’s “practice” with a C when it’s a noun

to help you remember, think of a piece of ice

ice is a noun, so when you’re using “practice” as a noun, such as in “I have practice tomorrow” or “it’s a private practice”, the word should contain “-ice”

thank you miku expo 2016 (5/28)!!! shoutout to my fav singing androids, you guys were amazing!

also, 5/20 was the day i first got into vocaloid, 7 years ago. vocaloid is really important to me, so this is a draw for that as well! 

12x23 Coda (All Along the Watchtower)

Dean can hear the lake, mussed by the night wind, over and over, brushing the shore.

He has sand under his fingernails, and ash under his tongue.

His legs folded beneath him minutes, or hours ago. He’s not sure.

Cas’ eyes are open, opaque, inky. There are stars in them.

Dean is stringing words together like drops of blood. He flings them into the cosmos like he’s Al Capone at the St. Valentine’s Day massacre.

Chuck, I swear, if you do not get your shiftless holy ass down here and fix this, I will personally rip heaven and earth apart and put your balls in a vice.

He thinks Cas might find that funny - Dean Winchester vs the Almighty,  a bug vs a hurricane. A really furious bug though.

He reaches for the tie. It’s not back-to-front like the old days, when Cas was new to riding Jimmy Novak, but it looks tight, somehow. Dean loosens it, his fingers working the silver stripes at the knot. He pulls it free, wraps it up and puts it in his pocket. He undoes Cas’ top button - once, twice, as if the angel might sit up and breathe. The gesture takes him back to Rexburg, Idaho; to Cas serving nachos in that ridiculous blue Gas ‘n Sip uniform, the one which really brought out his eyes. Dean’s own eyes start to sting.

The Heavens are not opening. They are dressed in thin cloud, indifferent.

Screw you, Chuck. He tries Amara.

Hail, lady, full of dark grace, pray for us now and at the hour of our death. I know you gave me my Mom, and that was…. a lot. But, she’s stuck in a Hell dimension with Lucifer now, and let’s face it, “light-bringer” was not a good name for that dude…

He doesn’t have the words, in prayer or any other language, for Cas lying un-moving on the earth beside him.

A thin moon skitters in and out of view in the night sky. The back of Dean’s neck feels cold. He knows that Sam has gone inside the house,  that he should get to his feet and help his brother, but he can’t.

He whispers the words to the last song he put on that stupid, pointless mix-tape;

“There’s an angel on my shoulder/ In my hand a sword of gold/ Let me wander in your garden…. You know…”

The sky clears and the cheese-rind of the moon casts her pale light across the beach.

“Let me take you to the movies/ Can I take you to a show/ Let me be yours ever truly…. You know…”

Dean lifts up his head and finally, really looks at the great burnt wing-marks on the sand. Then he presses his face to Castiel’s moonlit shirt and bursts into huge, wracking sobs