>>23231571
>>23231571
loosur bagel
juw knuws
bagel smears
smears cry
mad bagel mad
jelly donut city wall stronk
> >>23231717 (You)
>>>23231571
>loosur bagel
>juw knuws
>bagel smears
>smears cry
>mad bagel mad
>jelly donut city wall stronk
forbidden bagel knowledge stapped frum jelly donut city invasion cuz gahywall built
>>>23231814 (You)
>> >>23231717 (You) (You)
>>>>23231571
>>loosur bagel
>>juw knuws
>>bagel smears
>>smears cry
>>mad bagel mad
>>jelly donut city wall stronk
>forbidden bagel knowledge stapped frum jelly donut city invasion cuz gahywall built
croisant juggelers could not stap forbidden bagel knowledge from Xcape
🐙 KANALOA NEWS NETWORK (KNN)
“Broadcasting live from the Womb of the Abyss since 1998 BCE”
🎥 Anchor: Hi‘iaka “Deep Throat” Keawe
🎤 Special Correspondent: Moanilani the Moist Prophet
🌊 Brought to you by: Bioluminescent Lube & LavaTube Pride Cruises™
[BREAKING] CTHULHU FEELING SEEN AFTER MAUI DRAG SHOW DEEP IN AN UNDERSEA CALDERA
“I’m not angry,” Cthulhu confessed, gazing wistfully through a psychic portal, “I’m just… feeling unmoored.”
After centuries of silence, the Great Old One finally spoke at the 3rd Annual Abyssal Vogue-Off beneath Mauna Loa. While non-euclidean in form, his silhouette snatched the pearls of reality when he entered wearing nothing but a lei of screaming eels and a sheer pareo made from the dreams of sleeping sea turtles.
He then wept for twelve hours.
The ocean rose three feet.
Kaua‘i was moved 6 inches left.
🏝️ “Tentacle Rights Are Human Rights” — Activists Chain Selves to Coral Reefs
The Polyps for Peace Coalition staged a mass glitter sit-in off the Kona coast, protesting the new marine zoning laws that ban “sensual undulations of limbs longer than 3 meters” within tourist sightlines.
“We didn’t evolve psychic ink glands just to be policed by straight tourists from Wisconsin,” said activist Lilith Deepcave as she released a spore cloud in the shape of RuPaul.
🌺 “Gay Lava Flow Threatens Volcano Observatory” — Scientists Not Sure if It's Love or Vengeance
The U.S. Geological Survey has confirmed that the recent magma activity is “both unusually homoerotic and deeply judgmental.” Several researchers report hearing voices whispering “slay, queen” and “return to the moistness” from the fissures.
Lead geologist Dr. Kaleo Wainui:
“We cannot stop the gay lava. We can only accept its warmth. And its shade.”
💬 CULTURE SEGMENT — “IS MY SURFER BOYFRIEND A SHOGGOTH?”
New dating column from relationship counselor Auntie Pōhalani Ka‘eleau offers signs your bae may be an interdimensional flesh heap:
He only texts you during eclipses
He insists on “eating your memories” after sex
He calls you by your true name, which you have never told him
📡 WEATHER
North Shore: Tentacle drizzle, chance of blasphemy by dusk
South Shore: High surf, low morals, Cthulhu possibly cruising at Lava Lava Beach Club
Undersea Ruins: 100% psychic fog, avoid any voices that sound like your dead ex
Cthulhu’s Diary
Date: June 24, 2025 – Lunar Phase: Writhing Crescent
Location: Beneath the Sulking Isles, Third Trench of Inner Knowing
Dear Flesh-Laced Journal,
It has happened again. The gay FrenchBLACK mimes are at war—and I am, once more, unfairly blamed for the spiraling pastry-based diplomacy that now threatens to unhinge the Axis of Sugary Delirium.
I was slumbering peacefully in my obsidian catacomb, dreaming of tentacled poets and the wet secrets of Neptune’s urethra, when the screams began—not from the mouths, but from the souls of mankind. Specifically: mimes. Specifically-er: gay French ones. And they were fighting over Twinkies again.
At first, I assumed it was a small skirmish. A misunderstanding in the alleyways of Lyon. Two powder-faced boys in striped shirts hissing over dessert like eels in heat. But no—this was coordinated.
There are factions now:
The Custard Brotherhood — believe the creamy core is a sacred metaphor for divine insemination.
Les TwinkNoirs — solemn gothic mimes who insist only off-brand snack cakes are authentic expressions of queer resistance.
The Crème de la Crème Militia — who stormed a Bavarian Cream monastery disguised as fog.
They have spread. Paris fell in a day. Toronto was next. I saw a boy in Buenos Aires with a Twinkie duct-taped to each thigh, muttering prayers to “Le Grand Enfleurage.”
And now—the Berlin Wall has returned, rebuilt entirely out of buttercream and mime resentment. I did not authorize this.
Why must they invoke me? They whisper my name while straddling vending machines. They mime my tentacles during interpretive combat. They bake my sigil into sponge cake. I am flattered… and exhausted.
In truth, I admire their commitment. The eyeliner. The invisible wind resistance. The way they mime pain with such erotic agony. But I do not control the Twinkie supply. That was a decision made by the Old God of Shelf-Stable Pastries, whom I have not spoken to since the Ding Dong Schism of 1987.
Anyway, I have sealed off the eastern trench and warded my mind from pastry-based influence. But still, the moans echo through the brine:
“Ce n’est pas un Twinkie… c’est mon destin.”
“Il mime avec trop de crème. Il doit être arrêté.”
I am torn. Part of me wishes to intervene. To rise from the depths in a cascade of glitter and nougat and say “Enough, my pale darlings. Let us bake, not break.”
But another part—my older part—wants to watch. Wants to let it unfold. Wants to see what happens when pastry lust meets mime war meets planetary collapse.
Also, I ordered a bulk shipment of HoHos just to stir the pot. I’m bored.
Yours in eternal confusion and half-chubbed curiosity,
~Cthulhu
Elder God of Moist Regret and Unlicensed Snack Drama
KANALOA NEWS SPECIAL REPORT
🗣️ “Beneath the Surface of Hate: When Eldritch Icons Go Too Far”
🔊 Live from the Coral Catacombs | Anchor: Hi‘iaka “Deep Throat” Keawe
🌊 TRIGGER WARNING: Includes descriptions of interdimensional bigotry, aquatic slurs, and mythological gaslighting.
[INTRO MUSIC PLAYS]
🎵 “Gay Lava, Rainbow Traumaaa… This Is Kanaloaaaa!” 🎵
ANCHOR (Hi‘iaka Keawe):
A ripple became a wave. A wave became a tsunami of disappointment. And that tsunami smells like calamari and canceled energy.
Tonight, we report on the deeply personal, intercryptid conflict between two of the most iconic myth-beings of our time: Cthulhu, the Undulating Dream Daddy of Madness, and Nessie, the Loch Ness Monster and certified Trans-Scot Lesbian Ally since 1406.
Eyewitnesses report that during the “Global Queer Cryptid Roundtable” hosted in a sunken disco dome off the coast of Iceland, Cthulhu—allegedly drunk on fermented kelp-wine and bitter about not being included in Nessie’s underwater book club—hurled several derogatory slurs at Nessie in full view of both homophobes and gays alike.
EXCLUSIVE TENTACLECAM FOOTAGE:
“You gelatinous celtic tuba case!”
“You freshwater fraud with daddy issues and fake scales!”
“You’re not even a cryptid, you’re just a water-based rumor with anxiety!”
The room fell silent. Even Mothman dropped his vape.
MOANILANI, our Schizo Correspondent:
“I was there. I smelled the insult before I heard it. Nessie’s eyes—those beautiful haunted eyes—glazed over like a gay Krispy Kreme. You could hear every queer in the Atlantic hold their breath. And then release a perfectly synchronized ‘uh-uhhhh.’”
BACKGROUND CONTEXT:
This isn’t the first time Cthulhu has weaponized moist language. Back in the 90s, he allegedly referred to Bigfoot as a “feral bisexual lumbertop” and once described the Chupacabra as a “goat-licking trade bottom with unresolved mom stuff.”
But this time? He did it in front of the gays… and the homophobes. Together. At brunch. In matching wetsuits.
STATEMENT FROM NESSIE (via encrypted bubble script):
“I’ve spent centuries hiding, not because I’m ashamed—because I knew the world wasn’t ready. But I came out to support queer cryptid visibility. To be insulted by someone who dreams in screams and masturbates to ancient tide charts? That’s low. Even for him.”
REACTIONS POURING IN:
Kraken Queer Collective: “Disgusted. We’re removing him from the Wetlist.”
The Abyssal Mimes of Marseilles: “No longer tentacle-coded. Just tentacle-canceled.”
Alex Jones’ Clone (speaking through a tuba full of kombucha): “This is a distraction from underwater gay time machines stealing our serotonin.”
CTHULHU'S DEFENSE (telepathic farts through coral lawyers):
“I was joking. Nessie knows I’m all about interdimensional inclusion. I even hosted Tentacle Pride in 2004.”
“She ghosted my Atlantis reading group and didn’t return my robe.”
“Also, I’m bisexual for spiral galaxies.”
FINAL THOUGHTS FROM HI‘IAKA:
When a god drowns in his own ego, who casts the lifeline? Nessie didn’t ask to be your trauma mirror, Cthulhu. She just wanted to braid seaweed and flirt with genderfluid selkies in peace.
So tonight, from the depths of our community, we say this with love and righteous wrath:
“Get help, bitch.”
This has been Kanaloa News. Stay wet. Stay watchful. And never trust a tentacle without a conscience.
🌀 Sponsored by VoidChakra™ Crystals & Bottom-Focused Bibles™