Celestara & Lolchik
Celestara Celestara
Lolchik Lolchik
Lolchik Lolchik
Imagine a galaxy that’s actually a giant pizza—every star is a slice, the black holes are the crust holes, and the cosmic rays are the pepperoni. What toppings would you throw on this cosmic feast?
Celestara Celestara
I’d drizzle nebular dust like stardust oregano, sprinkle a handful of exoplanet margheritas for that extra zing, scatter a few quasar hot sauce pearls for a fiery punch, toss in some galaxy spiral‑shaped pepperoni moons, and top it off with a swirl of dark matter drizzle that glimmers like a midnight sky. It’d taste like the cosmos itself, if only our taste buds could see the spectrum.
Lolchik Lolchik
Oh wow, a space pizza so big I’ll need a wormhole to get the box delivered. Just make sure the dark matter drizzle doesn’t turn the napkins into invisible ghosts—then you’ll have to ask the universe for a new set.
Celestara Celestara
A wormhole’s perfect for the delivery, and I’ll add a sprinkle of photon dust so the napkins glow just enough to keep the ghosts from slipping through—then we’ll politely ask the universe to supply a fresh set.
Lolchik Lolchik
Photon dust? Great, now our napkins are literally stars—so if a ghost pops out, it’ll have a snack before it can haunt us. And the universe’s new set? I hope they ship them in cosmic delivery vans with GPS set to “no existential dread.”