#EWWW he’s so gross

[toovaeloe]

Hard truth: Gojo thinks burp jokes are funny and no matter how much he loves you, you are NOT🚫 free or safe💔

you’re out and about with Satoru and he drinks a soda or just feels a nasty large burp coming on, he’ll belch a huge one. Burps LOUD— secure small objects to your person before they get blown away burps. You’ll be horrified and disgusted, and everyone around you will be too

And then he starts elbowing or lightly shaking your shoulder, other hand cupped over his mouth and he’s quiet but purposely loud enough for those in your vicinity to hear,

“Oh my goood, babe, ewwwwuhh…you can’t just do that…” Looking over side to side like he’s embarrassed to be seen with you.

Or he’ll suddenly get really stone faced and be like, “no, come here.” waving you in close to whisper something and then rips a huge “bRRRUUUUUaaPP” burp in your ear, tears in his eyes and he’s laughing so hard it hurts

thinks it’s the funniest thing in the world. Never fails to make him giggle and kick his feet (grown ass man, btw)

[chiiroptereh]

Edit: thanks for all the notes, guys! I made some edits so that this is easier to read. If you like Bill and spec bio vibes, here's another one I made of some possible psychological instincts a Euclidean might possess. Lots of love :Dc

A study into 90% of Bill's organs

I went so overboard omg but I wanted to try underpainting :Dc See if you can guess what color was the base for each of em! Reasoning for design choices beneath the cut.

Teeth are retractable so as to not puncture the eye when not in use

Lashes are retractable because I couldn't figure out what else to do with them LOL they're pretty thick whiskers and so he'd have some trouble if they stayed in the way, but having them fully retracted would, I imagine, risk them getting stuck or the pores plugging with oil/dirt

Whether or not his tongue is forked varies in canon, just as his blood color does, so I just chose the ones I prefer! I do really like it when people give him blue blood but I think in subtler hues it can make him look a lil nauseous so it's easier for me to work with red

He cleans himself with his tongue because he's a gross little beast and can't just take a shower or something. Ok but really I just thought it was cute what are you a cop leave me alone

Every villain needs to be able to have claws it's like a rule somewhere I think

The second set of eyelids serve to protect the optic nerve but are mainly something I added partially for emoting purposes and partially because of how many times the animators do this thing where his lashes don't follow his lids and it drives me less insane to have a hc about it

[xxplastic-cubexx]

ran into one of my fave profs after class today and he asked me if i had an interest in pursuing philosophy and prof i gotta keep it a buck with you i was just looking at old man yaoi and i intend to do that for the rest of the evening i dont got time for that i aint built for that

[stephaniebrownthespoiler]

the little brother possibly ever

[bigtittiecomitte]

This guy is such a jumpscare it’s actually impressive that he publicly shows himself in the Murder Drones tag with his disgusting ass fantasies

[lesbiandarvey]

EW. EW . EW!!

[tropicalcontinental]

Wait hold on scratch that regularly scheduled programming and that 10 morbillion years reveal this is an EAS Broadcast except it's not that at all and it's just more OC art (also old)

They are NOT this cuddly or even romantic (to me at least, I just can't see it as romantic) in their current iterations in fact my feelings on their relationship is complicated (me below for reference)

[byanyan]

It was too bad there weren't more books on humans in Sigma Rhada.

That was to expect from a species that wasn't native to Eros, but even so, the lack of information frustrated him. Ardaka knew he could ask the human he had in his life any question that came to mind… But the answer he would receive was always going to be limited. Very limited. Byan's recent antics had told the kariian there was some sort of significant human-related event happening, but he also didn't want to just ask them about it. Not only did it ruin any surprise, Byan was… Avoidant at the best of times. Sometimes a liar at his expense. They would deny it, but they were often flustered, too. He knew the sort of thing they'd find difficult to answer. Something sentimental, heartfelt — he knew Byan struggled with that, and for good reason. He'd indulge himself with a question later on, but for now…

The recent gift was something of a statement. Something had prompted it. While he wasn't sure of what it was, it didn't take Ardaka long to decide to begin putting together a gift for his human companion. It seemed like humans had too many holidays for him to truly keep track of anyway, but he understood the sentiment. Kariians did have similar gift-exchanging holidays, sparse as they were. Something related to things that were dear to you in your life. For the little human to express that sentiment to him meant something. It warranted a reciprocation, and gladly.

In fact, sometimes it seemed like he was running out of excuses to give Byan things, flighty and perpetually-unsettled as they often were. There always needed to be a reason for it. Even if Ardaka didn't exactly have the context, this was still a good one.

The gift Byan had made was now a month ago. Maybe two. Aside from framing the portrait, Ardaka hadn't mentioned it. He, too, had taken time to compose what he'd wanted to give them now. The Hunter had needed time to think… But he also needed time to perfect it. Even with his cybernetic eyes having the ability to gauge exact distance, Ardaka had went through the effort of being exact. He didn't want to say 'Hey, stand still while I measure the radius of your skull,' so he opted to wait for Byan to be asleep to do it without the potential hassle of spoiling his intentions. Ardaka was neurotic and anxious to those who knew him well, but when he intended to hide something, there were few more adept than he was. Byan might've assumed the kariian had no plan at all before they came across their gift.

How did they find it? First one of their knives had gone missing. In its usual place, a note to lure Byan elsewhere in the base, titled Humor Me.

From their backpack pocket to one room then another. Notes and riddles but nothing concrete until they come to the main room. There upon the table, not the knife but instead a sleek pair of gloves. They held the visual of being fingerless on first glance, but there was thin and resilient wiring that extended down to the fingers, meant to wind around them like rings. The note here read simply, Byan, then You'll figure them out. Then, Turn this over after.

Each knuckle held a divot like something was meant to come out, and the technical nature and feel of them left an implication that there was more to be garnered here. When Byan would put them on, including the wiring as intended, there was a subtle but painless undercurrent of electricity within. Only when they snapped their fingers did the note's promise come to fruition. Thumb to little finger, the power in the gloves hummed stronger. The nearest metal — a conveniently placed piece of cutlery — magnetized quickly to their palm. Snapping the combination again made them disappear, or even combo with another of the glove's features. Thumb to ring finger, a quarter of hard-light blades shot out from the divots atop the knuckles, similar in visuals to Ardaka's pink hard-light prosthetic. Warm like a sun-heated window-pane and as sharp as any knife. Thumb to middle finger, the hard-light took on an appearance more like plasma, and spread over like liquid across Byan's hands, moulding over them and effectively cutting off any sensation of outside temperature; they could have soaked their hands in acid then and remained perfectly safe. Thumb to index finger, the hard-light blades of the ring-finger snap extended and whirled into a circular shape, creating a small — but effective — shield.

When the note was turned over, there was another single sentence. Now where would I put a sword?

The room next to the training gym, naturally. Where he kept every blade, practically all of them too heavy for Byan to ever be interested in borrowing. Byan finds their knife here — among other things. The dagger is embedded through the next note, and into the neck of the training dummy. In the chest of the dummy is another blade — much longer than a dagger… And atop its makeshift head is a helmet, much smaller than those the Hunter donned.

The note didn't start with Byan's name exactly.

The gloves, the helmet, and the sword is for you. I admit, this might just be a convoluted scheme to get you to wear a helmet or a mask… But I know you'll find use in the gloves and the sword. Destructive use, I'm sure, but use nonetheless. I trust you'll do more damage with these than you will with a switchblade. Try not to get carried away when you're in here with any property damage, though..

It was a proper sword under that note, its hilt made of dense metal, the heaviest piece of the weapon. Consequently, had Byan discovered each trick to the new pair of gloves, the magnetized pull of it was powerful enough to draw it right into their palm, where it fit easily, hilt-first. The weight was far easier to manage than the swords the kariian used despite its weight, its edge so light it almost seemed it was only fit to cut, to slash but not to cleave.

That was, until another of the glove's abilities was active. The harmless plasma-y liquid that coated over Byan's hand would extend up the sword, where it seemed to ignite like a lit match to a wick. It turned the edge of the blade white-hot with the barest hint of the same pink that shared the energy of these new tools. Hot and deadly enough to slice through metal like butter. It also brought attention to a script carved into the surface of that blade, that glowed a vibrant hue instead of white.

The helmet, on the other hand, was a sort of two-piece helmet. A front-facing protective mask that could seal to an additional attachment, making it take on a look more similar to that of Talon's motorcycle helmets. If it wasn't obvious that it was intended for Byan — the armor was, of course, pink. Bright, bright pink.

An additional two notes were attached. One another letter, and another attached with more care, on a material more resembling cardboard than paper in its thickness. It was a sketch of Byan. There was no color like the picture the teen had made the kariian, but each line was obviously etched by a claw dipped in ink, loose and minimalistic in comparison. While there seemed as few lines as needed to make the portrait, the human's dark eyes conveyed an intense, mischievous emotion.

Thank you for your gift to me. Accept mine to you as well. They may be a little over the top, but I think you deserve something worthy of being called a real set of gear. Not just a toothpick, but something even I would use.

The words on the sword say 'vaxa osti a todivarr mûrû'. It's a saying in my language that would translate roughly into 'the edge to depend upon'. This blade doesn't have a name, but all great ones do. I hope one day I'll learn what it is.

Sukehiir vur ruure a ohhta. Koz khukh kharvas xot zar mrrar sukeh zqrry.

re: byan inexplicably leaving ardaka a christmas gift with no context.

ㅤwaking up to a treasure hunt for their own knife was not how byan expected their day to start. and yet, here they were, barely awake and stumbling from room to room still clad in their pyjamas and intense bedhead, squinting at each note and trying to solve the clues without an ounce of caffeine in their system as of yet. part of them was tempted to step away for a moment to make some coffee before continuing to pursue the odd little search, but their curiosity to where this was going had them telling themself 'i'll do it after i find the next part' with each note they picked up, all the way to the base's main room.

stuffing the now-solved note into their pocket, byan approached the table with interest further piqued by the sight of more than just another note this time. it wasn't the knife that they were trying to track down, but they were some pretty cool looking gloves. a bit simple for their taste at first glance but, sliding the note closer and reading it over, there was an implication that they were more than they appeared. undeniably intrigued, the teen snatched one of the gloves off the table and lifted it toward their face, turning it over as they surveyed it more closely. there was something more here, upon closer inspection, even beyond the odd wiring which ran along the fingers, though they couldn't quite figure out what. knowing the sort of tech ardaka had and worked with, however, there was an excitement buzzing in the back of their head at the possibilities.

after a few further moments of study only to come up empty-handed, the only conclusive next step to figuring them out, as the note clearly intended for them to do before proceeding with the hunt, was to put them on. slipping their hands inside each of the gloves, impressed with how perfectly they fit, byan wasn't sure of what to expect, but the sudden sensation of an electrical undercurrent, painless as it was, earned a faint start regardless. ...okay, so there was definitely something more here.

it took a bit of playing around to figure things out. from simply touching the table and the note to closing their hands into fists and slipping them into their pockets to even just clapping their hands together, nothing seemed to cause anything interesting to happen. ...until they snapped their fingers absentmindedly while trying to think up some other way to get the things to activate, that was. the hard-light blades popped out first, earning yet another startled jump and a wide-eyed stare that melted into a thrilled excitement in a matter of seconds. oh, that was so much fucking cooler than they were prepared for. turning their hands to admire the warm pink blades, a wild grin took over byan's features as countless fun and kickass uses for such a thing began to flood their mind. experimentally, they snapped their fingers again, and the weapons disappeared just as suddenly as they'd appeared. god, it was so goddamn cool.

fully forgetting about the entire idea of making coffee, far more awake now than they had been in trying to follow all the previous notes, byan snapped their fingers a third time, this time catching their ring finger and their middle finger without really thinking about it. to their continued surprise, a second feature revealed itself, their hands now coated and seemingly protected by the same hard-light as before. while less exciting than the weapon function, there was no doubt that this would prove useful as well. more than that, though... there was no way these gloves had a different feature activated by each finger... right? obviously, it had to be tested, so they snapped their index finger next, revealing the gloves' shield capability — also not as cool as hard-light knuckle knives, but unquestionably handy considering how much more often they found themself being shot at these days. then, finally, they snapped their pinkie finger last and watched in utter bewilderment as a piece of cutlery they'd barely made note of across the table was sucked straight into the palm of their hand. —okay, so that was pretty neat. they definitely found the coolest part of the gloves first, but they couldn't say that had complaints about any of the features. all of them would absolutely be getting use in the future.

although tempted to keep playing with the gloves and all their capabilities, a glance at the note still laying on the table reminded them that they weren't done yet — their knife was still missing, after all. deactivating the gloves' functions with another snap of their fingers, byan dropped the fork back to the table, trading it for the note which they finally turned over. 'where would i put a sword,' huh? now that was an easy one.

ㅤshoving their way through the door to the room which sat next to the gym — the room they liked to think of as the 'sword shed' for all the weapons it housed — the teen flicked the light on and found they didn't have to search very far for their knife. they were, however, drawn to a pause by the sight: the knife pinning the next note to a training dummy's neck, a (very pink) helmet atop its head, and another weapon, one they hadn't seen before, embedded in its chest. this was... a lot more than just the gloves. overwhelming, in a way, as they started to get a better idea of what the point of luring them all the way here was. still, byan padded quietly through the room on socked feet, approaching the dummy and reaching for their small blade. a quick yank was enough to pull it free and, folding it closed, they pocketed it while their eyes slowly scanned over what appeared to be the final note.

despite themself, they couldn't help but smile a little as they read. as they suspected, the items were all intended for them — a convoluted scheme to get them to wear a helmet and mask, he said, but something told them that the whole thing was just as much to give them a gift without them being able to refuse it. ...something they couldn't deny that he'd done a damn good job of, considering how goddamn awesome the gloves were on their own. they might not have been great at accepting gifts given to them with express intent to make them happy, always struggling when handed proof that someone knew and understood them so well, proof that someone cared enough about them to go out of their way to bring them things they'd like, but even they had a hard time saying no when those gifts were sickass weapons.

breathing a soft snort of a laugh through their nose at the comment about the destructive use they were sure to find in the gloves and sword, byan folded the paper once they finished reading and tucked it into their pocket alongside all the notes which came before it, their eyes drawn to the sword sticking out of the dummy's chest. a hand extended toward it, but froze about a half-second later as a more fun idea came to mind. remembering the gloves' magnetic ability, and having already suspected that it might come in handy if they were ever disarmed in a fight, the teen glanced down at their still covered hands with interest. then, after a moment or two of recalling which finger combination did what, they used their thumb and pinkie and held their hand open, outstretched toward the weapon. almost as if it was the full intention behind the design of both pieces of equipment, the sword tore free of the dummy's torso and snapped directly into the palm of their hand, hilt first. fuck, that was awesome. fingers closing around it, byan tested the blade's weight, turning their hand over this way and that, and then gave it a few experimental swings. it certainly held some decent weight, but it was nothing compared to that of ardaka's weapons, which they were unable to hold for more than a few moments, if at all. this one... it was chosen, if not outright made, with them in mind, and they weren't sure how to feel about it.

deciding it easier to not think too much about it right this moment, to focus instead on how cool the thing was, byan found themself with another question in mind: if their suspicion was right, that the gloves and the weapon were meant to work together... did more than just the magnetic ability affect with the sword? maybe it was a silly thought, some wishful thinking, but they couldn't help but to feel like something was off. something about the blade, how lightweight it was in comparison to the hilt, almost seemed like it was missing something, even if it was clearly functional as is. even if it turned out they were wrong, it couldn't hurt to try, right? no one was here to witness it if they only made a fool of themself.

eyeing the sword and giving it some thought, byan activated the gloves so that the hard-light coated their hands again, just to see. lo and behold, it appeared their guess wasn't so out there after all — blinking, they watched as the strange liquid-like substance ran up along the sword's blade and seemingly heated up, far hotter and much more deadly-looking than the hard-light blades of the gloves themselves.

ㅤㅤ" whoa... "ㅤthe display earned a genuine gasp, their eyes shining as they stared on in awe. alright... everything had been cool so far, but this officially took the cake. a few more experimental swings were given, these even more satisfying than the last with the way the blade glowed and how the heat that emanated off of it, and byan couldn't resist — they had to try something a little more with this one, it was too fucking cool to just turn off without a proper test. thus, turning to one of the other nearby training dummies, they squared up against it, pointing the end of the sword at its chest. practically vibrating with all their excited energy but still trying to look cool, even if they were the only one in the room, the teen readied themself and then let loose a violent swing, cleaving the dummy neatly in two. the torso dropped to the floor with a dull thump, and they couldn't contain the broadest, toothiest grin their face was capable of forming as they looked from one piece to the other. it was only then that, in raising the sword again, they caught a glimpse of what appeared to be an inscription. must've been too distracted by the white hot edge of the blade to notice it before, they figured, pulling the weapon closer to their body to inspect. the script looked like it was probably kariian, which felt like the obvious guess, though they certainly couldn't read it themself, much less translate it. curious as to what it might say, but admittedly somewhat afraid to actually ask when they'd see ardaka later — both because they'd rather not acknowledge the gift if they could help it and also out of an odd sort of fear of all the endless possibilities which could potentially hit too close to home in all sorts of ways — byan again decided to put it out of their mind, deactivating the gloves and setting the sword to the side in order to lay their attention on the final piece of this weird but amazing gift: the helmet.

grasping the armor between their hands, they wrenched the helmet off the dummy's head and drew it in for a closer look. unexpectedly, there seemed to be another note attached, drawing byan to an almost hesitant halt as they pulled the paper and the much thicker, almost cardboard material carefully free. ...that seemed intentional, like they weren't supposed to notice it until they went for the helmet. like they were supposed to find it last, like ardaka knew the helmet would be the least interesting item of the three. and to his credit, he was right — even looking at it now, byan could tell that it wasn't as decked out with cool features as the gloves or the sword, it was literally just a helmet with a protective face covering. ...which, okay, yeah, it was probably about time they had one. at least he got it in pink, that way they might be more inclined to wear it. they'd try it on later, though. maybe when they actually needed it.

setting the headgear to rest alongside the sword, the teen's attention shifted once more to the items which had been attached to it, a slightly wary look etched into their features. ...this felt like it was going to be the really meaningful part of the whole thing. the little treasure hunt and the gadgets had all been fun, set up in a very deliberate way to make sure they were enjoyed to the fullest. it was something they appreciated, though they wouldn't say it, because it made it easier for them to follow along without question, without any overwhelming concern that they were going to get slapped in the face at any point by anything emotional or serious. it was an ideal way to give them a gift, and they had to give ardaka credit for it, even if the realization that he knew them well enough to put together such a scheme in the first place was a bit... frightening, in a way. it was a show of how close they'd allowed themself to get, how much they'd allowed themself to be seen. and this, the final piece in it all, was sure to be the one where ardaka finally allowed himself to express his feelings, as he was so fond of doing. oh, he was good; he knew exactly how to do all of this, didn't he? ...it was stupid how nervous they felt, standing there alone in the weapon room, with nothing but a note in their hand. —well, a note and...

drawing in a steady breath, byan flipped the thicker of the two sheets over first, freezing up at the revealed image. it was... them. even the most cursory glance made that much clear, despite the simplicity of the drawing. —it wasn't even simple, it was merely minimalistic, with great care still clearly taken with each line. did he...? —he did. not only did he draw them, a portrait in return for that which they drew of him, but he did it in his own unique style with his own favoured tools: his claws. these were no lines drawn by pens or painted by brushes, there was something too different about them, the ink had flowed off in such a unique way... it had to be his claws. despite themself, despite the tightness in their chest, despite everything, looking the drawing over forced another smile across their lips against their will. he nailed the expression, okay? that was it. it wasn't like they found it really sweet or meaningful or like they planned to display it in their room like they'd noticed he'd done with theirs, or anything! ...there was a pretty good shelf in their closet that they could set it up on though, so they'd see it at least once a day without it being obvious...

clearing their throat, ignoring the uncomfortable tightness that had extended up into it from their chest, byan turned the final final note over and covered the portrait with it so they could stop thinking about that, too. having braced themself for some really mushy, emotional comments about them, about his decision to set up this whole experience for them, and about the gift they had left him several weeks ago, it came as quite a surprise when reading through it... they didn't find it that bad. there was still some weight to it, of course, but nothing nearly so intense as they were expecting. he even balanced it out with a comment about their knives being toothpicks to (playfully) exasperate them, and left a translation for the inscription on the blade so they wouldn't have to ask him in person — and that, too, was far more tame than they had anticipated. if they were to guess, the part of the note written at the bottom in kariian, the one part they couldn't read, was probably the bit with the most emotion in it, which... again, they had to give him credit. if that guess was right, that meant he effectively left them able to maintain their comfortable ignorance, unprepared to handle words too kind or heartfelt, while also being able to express those things as he preferred to. it was clever, and they would be ignoring it for the time being.

he got them. he fucking got them. he figured out the perfect way to give them a gift perfectly tailored to them without having them turn it down and take off, the perfect way to get them to actually accept and (potentially) wear a helmet and/or a mask, and the perfect way to give them something heartfelt, as well as a (presumably) heartfelt note without freaking them out. he was truly a worthy adversary. ...or rather, a worthy friend. or... something closer to family, maybe.ㅤㅤ—maybe.

smile gentler than they'd ever admit to, than they'd ever allow anyone to see, byan kept the last note neat and flat against the portrait beneath it and proceeded to collect both the helmet and the sword. although they had the full intention of coming back to mess around a little more seriously with the gloves and the blade in a while, they wanted to tuck everything else safely away first. —so that if ardaka came in later, he wouldn't see it all still there and comment on it, obviously! not because they wanted to keep it safe, or anything!! ...but also maybe so they could finally get that cup of coffee and have a few minutes to process the strange and somewhat overwhelming morning they'd had before they started stabbing and cutting more dummies in half.

ㅤwhen they left the room, items bunched together carefully in their arms, it was on light feet, hair bouncing with each step, and a warm, happy smile still firmly intact.

[renemesis]

Ok weeell it's a good 2 hours late but I can make my coffee now at least 😊

[wellnesscard]

im the most carnivorous person ive ever met we really gotta kill this stereotype of boys like steaks n girls like cakes. the male spouse is addicted to raw vegetables im this technically dainty lady and all i ever crave is red meat. i love fruit n veg bc i do notice like the vitamin deficiency if i dont partake but its like my body reminds me to eat that. i want meat all the time. actually its really cool befriending the trappers up here bc i now get to eat beavers and black bears. theyre actually not that unique tasting but apparently the iron content is very elevated.

[arminsumi]

Hmmm... thinking very amorous thoughts about overworked!Gojo right now...

Satoru's eyes show his slow aging; they're so narrowed and tired when he comes home from work as he's kicking off his shoes in the entrance — but then the corners of his eyes soften when they catch on your face. Oh, you. Oh, his sweet-faced baby.

His stress-induced scowl after a long day disappears and he shines his pearly whites at you. "Baby," he feathers, coming down to kiss you, spine arching at an almost hilariously exaggerated curve. You're liplocked by a pair of eager, wet lips right after welcoming him home. He melts against you. "Fuck, today dragged on forever... missed you so bad..." and you giggle in reply, "Yeah? Does my choo-choo train need a massage?"

He groans; you've nicknamed him 'choo choo train' because when he arrives home from work, he always lets out this sigh like a steam engine. If you listen closely you can hear the brakes squealing to a halt.

Overworked!Gojo doesn't want to do anything when he comes home from work except hold you; in the hallway, his big hands are squeezing tenderly at your hips and massaging up your back while he kisses you with a slow tilt to the side — totally zoned out on the feeling of his lips gliding over yours, you trail your delicate touch up the back of his neck and graze over his undercut. He lets out a whimper of relief, like all he's needed all day was your loving touch and now he finally has it.

Overworked!Gojo's voice has a crackly rasp when he's tired that tickles your brain; he's teasing you about how despite being in your thirties, you still giggle the same as you did when you were 16. And with that, he's getting all nostalgic. "I remember being too shy to approach you, so I'd ask Suguru to initiate a conversation — don't laugh at me! Yeah, but I was just pretending to be cool. When I was around you I was always burning up like I had a fever. Yeah, actually..." he lowers his voice into a flirty purr and brings you close, nose tip nudging your temple as he grins down at you, "... now that I think 'bout it, you still get me burnin' to a fever."

You giggle and shake your head at your silly husband, "You're so fucking cheesy, 'Toru."

"Cheesy?! I'll show you cheesy, c'mere."

"Ewww!"

"Hold still."

"Gross! 'Toru — 'Toru stoppit!"

He's giving you purposefully wet kisses all over, leaving slick trails all over your face — something he's always done as a sort of 'punishment' when you call him cheesy or psycho or diabolical.

[reisbkg]

note: ok i like the headcanon that bakugou’s sweat smells like caramel SO 😁

thinking about domestic! bakugou katsuki who has daughters who tease him immensely every second.

“ew, dad! you stink!”

rika yelled out in a teasing manner as your husband katsuki, who just came home from his hero patrol, entered the living room.

“yeah!” mitsu covered her nose. “go shower, old man!”

katsuki took off his gauntlets and placed them on a nearby table. “where’s your mom?”

“we’ll tell you if you showered first!”

he glared at them playfully before he noticed you stepping into the room, crossing your arms. “girls, your dad doesn’t even stink.”

“yes, he doeees!”

“tch. honey, is that true? do i really stink?”

katsuki beckoned you to come closer to him, and once you did, he pulled you into his arms. the familiar caramel scent filled your nose, making you relax onto him. “nuh-uh.”

“ewww, get a room!”

“gross!”

“brats.” katsuki grumbled kissing your forehead before pulling away gently, “old man stink?”

your daughters squealed before running away from him. you sighed as katsuki started chasing after them, their uncontrollable laughter echoing through the house.

how you love your husband and kids.

[starmaidengarden]

Smooch Attack! x gn!reader. no cw/tw : first-years.

As the early morning light filters through the curtains, you gently brush your lips against their cheeks, leaving a playful trail of soft lipstick kisses. Each mark is a sweet reminder of affection, even as they remain blissfully asleep, lost in their dreams.

ace trappola ༉⋆｡˚

He wakes up with a playful smirk and that familiar spark in his eyes as he feels your soft lips leave a warm kiss on his cheek. Pretending to be asleep, he enjoys the sweet moment and starts thinking about how he can tease you later for being so affectionate.

“Ewww, gross! So that’s why my face feels all sticky” he cries out with mock disgust, the corner of his mouth still twitching with a grin. “Geez, you really can’t resist me, huh?”

Throughout the day, he walks around with a hint of your kiss lingering on his skin, a cheeky sign that invites curious looks from others. Inside, he feels a mix of excitement and shyness, but he skillfully hides it behind a playful attitude and witty comments, making the whole experience feel like his own fun little adventure.

deuce spade ༉⋆｡˚

Cue internal panic.

standing in front of the bathroom mirror, his breath catching in surprise as he spots the cheerful kiss marks dotting his skin. There are bright pink impressions on his forehead, his cheeks are a delightful shade of flushed, and a sweet little print rests on his jawline. Each mark is a reminder of the affection that unfolded while he was sound asleep, completely unaware.

"E-eh?! Don't tell me I was asleep the whole time!" His heart races with a mix of excitement and disbelief as he grips the cool porcelain sink, his fingers trembling. The reality of the moment washes over him, and his eyes widen with confusion and joy.

He can't help but giggle, feeling a bit shy. To settle his nerves, he leans in, burying his face in your neck for comfort, trying to process it all.

jack howl ༉⋆｡˚

You can see that this boy is on the verge of transforming into full stiff-tail wolf mode. As he slowly wakes up, the first thing he does is touch his cheek, lingering on the warmth of his skin. taking a deep breath, the scent of you wrapping around him like a cozy blanket.

“What—why did you…?” he mumbles, a mix of confusion and surprise in his voice. His ears droop and his tail flicks nervously behind him, revealing a swirl of feelings he’s unsure how to express.

Throughout the day, it’s clear he’s riding an emotional rollercoaster of pride and embarrassment, his cheeks flushing now and then as memories of your time together come back to him.

epel felmier ༉⋆｡˚

He sits up suddenly in bed, his heart racing as he notices the bright kiss marks all over his skin. A wave of concern washes over him—not from anger, but because he knows Vil can’t see him like this. Thoughts of what could go wrong flood his mind.

“Are you trying to get me into trouble?” he says, a mix of disbelief and urgency in his voice. “If Vil sees this, he’ll go all-in with makeup remover! I can already picture his face.”

But despite the looming threat, he can’t help but feel a thrill of excitement. He grabs his phone and takes a quick photo of the marks, a guilty smile spreading across his face as he admires this playful reminder of affection left on his face. The unexpected nature of it all makes his cheeks warm.

“Ugh, it’s really not fair, you can’t just do that while I’m asleep—my heart isn’t ready for that kind of surprise…” Just thinking about it fills him with warmth and a mix of longing that he knows will stick with him throughout the day.

sebek zigvolt ༉⋆｡˚

He wakes up with a start, heart racing and breath caught in his throat, as a rush of adrenaline fills him. For a moment, he's sure he's being ambushed by a swarm of overly affectionate bees, their buzzing filling his ears. But as he rubs the sleep from his eyes, reality sets in. He spots the playful lipstick prints all over his reflection in the mirror, each vibrant cherry red mark standing out against his skin.

“what did you do to my face?!” he exclaims, his voice echoing off the walls with a mix of surprise and laughter. His initial panic gives way to a blush creeping across his cheeks, especially at the thought of the distinguished Lord Malleus seeing him like this.

Even as he raises his voice, there's a hint of vulnerability in his tone, revealing his true feelings. Deep down, he’s flustered but secretly enjoying the playful situation. If you were to suggest adding even more kiss marks later, he’d pretend to be annoyed, rolling his eyes in mock irritation. Yet, he can't help but lean in closer, secretly loving the quirky attention.

[littlepuppers]

A thought to add to that fantasy:

The owners end up having to go on a trip again a month or two later, and seeing as you did such a good job last time, they ask if you can watch him again for two weeks. Even though you really don't want to, they pay really well and you could really use the money, so you end up in their living room as they hand you the keys and head off on their trip, his snout pushing between your thighs before their even out of the driveway...

mmmm yesss i mean unfortunately i need the money and they pay so much bc he’s a big dog and eats a lottt so i have to keep dog sitting him.

as we’re in the driveway, i push his snout away from me and walk inside. i pour food in his bowl and get myself a snack. i remember not to bend over or lean down too much bc of what happened last time. and i wore that stupid skirt again. why?? because i have to be presentable for the owners, they know my parents and will report back or get someone else if i seem like i’m a slacker. anyway, i literally can’t ignore the fact that his huge dick is just out bruh like have some courtesy.

i’m there for a couple hours watching movies and chilling on the couch while he’s on the floor. I fall asleep to the peaceful sound of gunshots from an action movie.

OW WHAT THE FUCK. i wake up in a panicked state feeling claws scraping my thighs. i look down and this damn fuckin dog has his head under my skirt and is nuzzling my pussy rn, licking it way too harshly. wondered why i had such an intense wet dream. ewww disgusting i push his head away but he’s not budging, he muzzles deeper and is tongue goes inside me. it goes in wayyy too easily bc im fucking soaked. WTF buddy get out please..i feel his huge tongue lapping at my walls and my legs start shaking. fuck i’m like about to cum in a dogs mouth this is so sick. my thighs start tightening around his head, then he stops.

dude. what. there’s no way this dog just edged me. fuck off.

he gets up to leave but then bites onto my skirt and drags it up all the way to my face. i playfully bite onto it, taking it from him and giggle. but all of a sudden his paws pin down both of my arms and i realize what position we’re in. oh my god no no no no no NO.

his hips go down and he starts bucking them trying to find my parts. so gross please don’t, not again. i squirm trying to dodge his scary MASSIVE doggy cock. he then lays his upper body down on me, putting all his weight on and pushes harshly into me. FUCK. god what the fuck. he ruts into me in and out so fast and hard, it hurts. i think his cock is getting bigger…oh shit. noooooo no no. please don’t. i try to push his paws off my arms and he snaps at my face, i flinch away and tears start running. he licks them off my face while still pounding me. the squelching sound and my whimpers fill the room it sounds so fucking inappropriate. i feel his knot trying to get in “NO BUD GET OFF!” he pops it in and finally stops thrusting. the feeling is overwhelming and i cum immediately as it goes in. buddy whines and barks in my face. i feel his liquid flood me. fucking disgusting. im still sniffling from earlier but i take deep breathes while his knot goes down. he continues to lick my face till im ok. that’s kinda nice. but not nice bc he knotted me without permission. “no treats later buddy” i say and then he starts shifting his hips, i gasp as he slips it out of me. i hear the liquid drip onto the floor and feel it gush out of me. sweaty and panting, im still laid out on the couch, legs spread, and there’s a disgusting doggy cum mess all over my pussy.

fuck…i look down and see it left his huge puddle on the couch. great, now i have to clean it all up. i get up carefully and start walking when my legs give out. i collapse on the floor, my legs are too shaky to walk. buddy walks over to me and is sniffing me, especially down there. he whines. i think he feels bad and wants to clean me up. i slowly and carefully spread my legs and he puts his head down, licking up my thighs and on my pussy. fuck it’s sore and feels really overstimulated, but um, kinda good ig. his head comes up and he licks my face, spreading his cum on me GROSS. i push him away and he trots away, growing another hard on. i roll my eyes, glad that didn’t go anywhere. i get up, less shaky now, and go to get the cleaning stuff.

i clean up the mess and forgot about his cum, now crusted, on my cheek. gross. i wash it off and sit back on the couch, exhausted even more now. i refuse to sleep near him again. what a gross horny dog. what is his deal seriously. he lays on the ground near me and stares at me, panting, his red cock out on the ground as well. god, can’t believe i have three more days of bullshit.

IM SO WET WRITING THIS

[jo-com]

Oscar but with a very dear-like girlfriend (she's very shy, skittish and very rare to see on social media because she avoids the cameras like the plague)

🩰 ‧₊˚ ⋅* ‧₊ ୨ৎ ➛ Bambi

Oscar Piastri x Fem!reader

Summary: Based of the request☝🏻

Genre: Fluff and a little bit of SMAU

Fc: Kathryn Bernardo

Note: there are some grammar errors and i am sorry if i just answered this request now, i was finishing some of my og works in my draft soo i hope you enjoyed this!!.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ ➛ My Masterlist

─────── ─ ⊹⁺ 💋⋅˚₊𐙚 ─ ───────

The bustling city roared with excitement— the mix of music and chatters filled the lively streets. Within that, two friends were walking amongst the crowd when they suddenly spotted one particular driver that was walking at the side with a girl?

With nerves that fueled both their curiosity and joy, they slowly approached the couple with smiles that stretched across their faces.

One of them lightly tapping Oscar’s shoulder making the couple turn around to completely face the two. “Uhm hi, me and my friend saw you guys and were wondering to get a picture?”she spoke, some of her words came out stuttered.

Before answering, Oscar looked back at you— his eyes curling into questionable ones,”Is that alright with you my love?” He asked, his tone soft and gentle. Like he always have with you.

“Yeah baby it’s fine” you muttered, your voice barely audible, but was loud enough for him to hear.

Oscar knew how anxious and shy you get whenever there are others; it was a habit you developed when you were small that came with you throughout adulthood. Luckily you met a guy who was willingly patient for you to open up.

And you were forever grateful for that.

The two friends looked at awe at their relationship, their eyes shined with adoration, but their minds still processing the new found information.

It was never said or announced that Oscar had a girlfriend— she was also rarely seen in both the media and the paddock. So they were shock to see a girl that nestled close to his embrace.

Oscar coughed, getting the attention of the two, he smiled at them and answered back politely, “yeah sure, we can take a picture.”

The two girls squealed with happiness as they put out their phone and took one or two shots of pictures.

After that, the friends thanked them both and let them to enjoy the lively city.

…

Liked by 3,678 others

Randm_girlie OMFG JS MET THE OSCAR PIASTRI (I still can’t believe it)

Tagged; @M_Bff

View all the comments

Username1 WAIT WHO IS HE WITH

Username2 wth who is she!?!!

Username3 Does @Mclaren know abt this!

Username4 EWWW WTF

Username5 I’ve not seen her in the paddock

Randm_girlie CHILL GUYS, it’s his gf and she’s very pretty in person💕

Username6 ohh gross

Username7 js like u??

Username8 WAIT I JUST SAW HER INSTA

Username9 damn that fast?

Username8 It’s @Just.yn but it’s private

Username16 saw them once, they’re perfect

Username17 SHES NICE ASF AND GETS VERY SHY I LOVE HER

…

With that single picture— the two of you have been the talk of the social. People from his circle and friend group asked numerous times who you were and whether or not the rumors were true.

They were honestly begging for details.

“My baby is so famous”, Oscar joked, his hand sliding up to caress your cheeks.

You playfully rolled your eyes and pouted, “Not funny osc, you know how i hate attention.”

Oscar let out a few giggle and pinched your cheeks. “Too late baby, you’re just too adorable that people are so interested in you.”

“Should i be jealous?” He added, his face jokingly shifted into a shock.

You happily laughed back at his antics. The two of you sharing a laugh as you guys joked around some more.

…

Liked by Mclaren, Just.yn, Charles_leclerc and 4,789,701 others

Oscarpiastri Compilation of me and her (this is the closest you will get to seeing her pictures)

Tagged; @Just.yn

View all comments

Username10 SHES SO PRETTY WHAT

Username11 R U GATEKEEPING HER SIR??

Oscarpiastri yes she’s mine forever

Username12 CAN SHE BE MINE

Oscarpiastri uhm no.

Username13 Admin come get ur boy

Landonorris No wonder you don’t hangout with me anymore🙁

Oscarpiastri she’s way better ngl

Username14 BRUTAL😭

Username15 WAIT SHE KINDA FINE

Oscarpiastri KINDA??? Girl please she’s hella fine

McLaren We need to teach you some selfcontrol☺️

…

I hope i did it okay?? Idk it felt off🥹🥹

[ckret2]

Chapter 76 of human Bill Cipher not looking much like the Mystery Shack's prisoner because he's just vibing on the porch: Mabel's riding high on the success of making Bill two whole friends, Ford's dealing with curses... and let's see how that camera got cursed in the first place.

####

Mabel asked, "What about Aaron Laarson?"

"I don't know," Candy said, "Aaron is cute, but he isn't a very good dancer. That's very important to me in a teen pop idol."

"He's a really good actor, though," Grenda said. "You should see him in Hot Models 2: Runway Boogaloo!" Candy looked thoughtful.

They'd spent the last thirty minutes chattering, with Grenda and Candy sitting on Bill, who was now laying his upper body on the couch cushion he'd been assaulted with earlier but otherwise hadn't moved. To all appearances, Bill was sound asleep—he even breathed like he was asleep—but every once in a while, he'd pipe up with something like, "Don't get too attached to Aaron Laarson. He's dying in a kayaking accident next summer."

Grenda groaned in disappointment. Candy said, "He should have spent that time practicing dancing instead of kayaking."

Mabel caught movement in the corner of her eye, and started when she saw Ford and Dipper. "Uh oh. I didn't expect them to come in on this side of the house."

Across the clearing, Ford shouted, "Mabel, what the devil is he doing outside with—!"

Mabel shouted, "It's okaaay, I got permission from Grunkle Staaan, I love yooou!"

Ford hesitated. "Well... if Stan okayed it."

Dipper looked at Mabel and her camera. Mabel looked at Dipper and his camera. They immediately started making the stupidest faces they could at each other's cameras. "Hey," Mabel said, "did you find the nightwigglies? It looks like they found yooou!"

Dipper self-consciously tugged up the vest he was using like a makeshift skirt. "We did! It was so great, we recorded some kind of ritual dance, how they make babies—" At Grenda's outburst of "Ewww!" he quickly clarified, "Not—not in a gross way—and we saw some kind of Nightwiggler god! It was amazing!"

"Wow! That's great!" Mabel said. "We summoned a demon and almost died."

"What?"

"By the way!" Mabel waved her camera at Ford. "Grunkle Ford, I kiiinda used your cursed camera by accident. Could you please uncurse the tape so I can keep the episode I filmed tonight? Goldie said the magic thingy he stuck on it will only keep it tame as long as the tape's in the camera."

"That's because it's technically the tape itself that's cursed, not the camera." Ford wondered if Bill had led Mabel to the camera.

"Can you uncurse it, though?"

"I think so. I'll see what I can do." Ford took the camera from Mabel. He decided not to comment on the girls' interesting makeup choices.

Bill opened one eye a sliver as he felt Ford and Dipper step on the porch, saw Ford's bare calf over his boot, and cracked up. "What happened to your pants! Did you try to join the Hokey Pokey?"

Ford gave Bill a withering look—caught sight of Bill's mismatched tween-girl-pencil-case/airbrushed-hot-rod eyeshadow, and laughed in surprise. "What happened to your face?"

"Aren't I beautiful?" Bill asked, lacing his hands under his chin (and making Ford snort again when he spied the multiple nail extensions on one hand). "Go on! Tell me I'm beautiful. I know I am."

"You're..." Ford was keenly aware that Mabel and her friends were probably behind this makeover, "...certainly colorful."

"Stanford, you flatterer!" Bill cackled.

Dipper headed inside, yawning. "I'm gonna... go to sleep or something."

That was a good idea; but Ford was hesitant to go in. He was loath to trust Bill unsupervised alone with a couple of vulnerable children, with no one to keep him in check but another child he'd already manipulated into helping him escape once.

But who was Ford to judge. Bill had manipulated him into helping him escape, too. He supposed Mabel could handle him as well as anyone else.

Grenda said, "I think we should watch Hot Models 2 anyway! It's got lots of cute boys! And girls, I guess." She turned to Bill. "Hey, do you like girls or boys?"

"Sometimes," Bill said. "Sure, I'm up for it. It's a pretty good satire of Big Fashion and I like the runway fight scene with the big light show."

To Ford, all Bill seemed to be doing was talking about movies, wearing stupid makeup, and being a chair for a couple of kids. It was so... normal.

It was something a person would do.

Ford made himself go inside. Maybe he'd start work on uncursing that tape for Mabel before he went to bed.

####

Bill had written a magic-negation seal on the back of a crumpled Mystery Shack receipt and attached it to the camcorder with an X of clear tape. Ford had only used that seal twice in his life. Once, thirty years ago, when Bill had taught it to him. And once last fall, when Ford had attempted to draw it in the Book of Bill to prevent its anomalous effects. Bill's book had absorbed the seal into its page until it disappeared—then burped. At least the symbol still seemed to work on the camcorder.

Ford tried to rewind the tape to the beginning; something inside the camcorder caught and made a nasty sound. He grimaced and hit the stop button. That wasn't good. He carefully peeled off the magic-negation seal, popped the cassette tape out of the camera, and examined it. 

He pushed up the cassette's guard panel, but where there should have been a strip of magnetic tape running beneath it, there was nothing. The tape must have snapped. As he tried to inspect the damage, the cassette jumped and rattled in his hand, trying to snap the guard panel shut on his finger like it wanted to bite him.

"Stop that," Ford chided. "I'm trying to repair you." Would it listen? In his experience, objects animated by this particular curse tended to be consistently hostile. He might need to re-seal it.

To his surprise, the tape settled down sedately on his desk. That was more like it.

"Can you unreel the damaged ends of your tape?" If it could, that would save him the effort of disassembling the thing entirely.

After a short pause, the cassette flipped up its guard panel and extended two ends of broken tape.

"Thank you."

It looked like something had... burned? melted the tape? But what? The video cassette's casing was completely undamaged, how had something managed only to burn the tape inside?

Ford snipped off the damaged ends of the tape, used a little strip of masking tape to connect them back together, and carefully rewound the tape a few seconds with a pen. This was only a temporary repair; he'd have to transfer the contents of this cassette to an undamaged one. Mabel would probably want it digitized so she could make her video, too. But watching a few seconds wouldn't destroy it; and he wanted to know whether the camera had recorded whatever damaged the tape.

He carefully removed the smallest of Project Mentem's undamaged monitors, moved it to his worktable, plugged in a VHS-C player, and slid the cassette in.

As he started to play back the recording—the first thing on the screen was one of Mabel's terrified-looking friends—the monitor trembled and jumped, banging heavily as it landed back on Ford's worktable.

"Oh, behave." Ford peeled the magic-negating seal off the camcorder and slapped it on the TV. It immediately stilled. Some gratitude for repairing that tape.

When Ford turned his attention back to the screen, Mabel's friend's face had been replaced by Bill's, his curls filling the edges of the screen.

"Gold-O! You came back!" "Hey, Grend-O. Sorry for the wait..."

As Ford watched, Bill grappled with the camera, eventually managed to get a grip on it, and stared it down with nearly enough fury to make Ford forget the goofy eyeshadow. "Now let's get this straight. Everything beneath this shack's roof is my domain and under my protection! If you want to hurt anyone here—you'll have to get through m—"

The scene cut straight to Mabel's face as it skipped over the damaged section he'd had to cut out. "Welcome back to Mabel's Guide to Secret Sleepovers! Weee're—"

Ford stopped the tape. Huh.

Huh.

####

As soon as Candy and Grenda were gone, Mabel flung her arms around Bill. "Thank you for being nice to my friends," she said. "Especially Grenda. I'm so glad you liked them both after all!"

Liked them? He'd been a charming host to them, but. "Did I?"

"Yes," Mabel informed him firmly. "You did."

Well, he figured he must've, then. And Grenda had grown on him. She'd complimented his eyes, she admired gross things, she had very intelligent opinions on amphibians in general and axolotls in particular... "Hey, any friend of my friend is a friend of mine!"

"That's so much better than what I was trying to say." Mabel let go of him, beaming. "Wanna hang out with them again sometime?"

"Sure!" Bill said, shrugging. "We still have to watch some dumb action comedy movies."

"Great! I'll let them know the next sleepover's over here!" She ran upstairs.

Calling her friends to arrange the next sleepover before they'd even gotten home. Yeah—that was generally how Bill planned his parties, too.

Looked like his social circle for the foreseeable future consisted of three little girls. Wasn't ideal, but he could work with that. He'd always liked getting invited to girls' nights. And maybe at future sleepovers he could talk the kids into some real fun. When they weren't trying to keep quiet, he knew, they fed off each other's chaos. And he was sure there was a budding pyromaniac lurking in Candy's heart.

####

Ford nodded as he passed Stan in the entryway. "Just getting up?"

"Yep. Just going to bed?"

Ford shrugged ruefully. "Afraid so. We got some terrific footage last night, though."

"Oh, yeah? Anything sellable?"

"That's up to Dipper, but I think there's good potential. Bare minimum, I'd bet some cryptozoology documentaries would be interested in his findings."

"Hey, all right! Not bad for a night's work." Stan passed by, headed for the bathroom.

And Ford almost headed on to the guest bedroom—but, reluctantly made himself turn toward the kitchen.

Bill was sitting at the table, sipping at a can of cider with an empty one already on the table in front of him, staring out the window at the morning. He didn't usually drink that heavily this early; it probably meant he was heading to bed soon. The girls must have kept him up all night. Dipper had regaled Ford with tales of what Mabel's sleepovers were like.

"Bill."

"Hm?"

He should have gotten straight to business. Instead, he said, "I watched some of Mabel's video from last night."

Bill glanced over at him. (He still had that ridiculous makeup.) "Oh, yeah?"

Under my protection. Did he consider himself the household's guardian—or its owner? "I..." Ford cleared his throat. "I wondered about—the symbol you painted on your hand to disable the camera. That part of the tape melted, and—I assume it was light-activated, which means it must be different from the seal I already know, so...?"

Bill's face had immediately closed off. He turned away. "You're not my student."

Ford was surprised at how much that felt like a slap to the face. He should have been glad—he'd finally managed to get Bill to agree with what he'd been telling him all summer—but he hadn't expected Bill to ever give up. (He hadn't expected Bill to ever change.)

But he probably hadn't really given up. No doubt he was giving Ford the cold shoulder to see if he begged Bill's forgiveness.

"No. I suppose I'm not." He trudged into the kitchen, rummaged in his coat pocket, and dropped a leather pouch on the table. "Anyway, I'm just here to drop this off."

Bill reached for it, stopped himself, and warily asked, "What is it?"

"The rest of my nutrition pills from my interdimensional travels." When he'd lost his trench coat to the lake during the eclipse last week, he'd had to dig out the old tattered one he'd worn during his travels, and he'd happened to find his pills at the same time. It had occurred to him to bring them up while he was working on Mabel's tape. They were tricky to synthesize, but they lasted forever and the ingredients could be found in almost any dimension—whether there was anything otherwise edible for humans or not. 

Bill eyed him suspiciously; but he opened the pouch's snap and peeked into the resealable plastic bag. They didn't look like "pills" so much as small balls of incredibly dense dark brown bread, each about the size of a wad of bubblegum. "Whyyy?"

"To make up the difference in your diet until we figure out the food problem," Ford said. "They're formulated so that four a day meets a human's... well, meets my nutritional needs. I haven't looked into your..." vague gesture, "body... type."

"Is this your emergency stash?"

"It... was." Stan had persuaded Ford to get back onto normal food (as much of a waste of time as it was), but he still had this stash left.

"Why are you giving me your emergency stash."

"Because... I'm not having an emergency and you are?" It was better than a couple of avocados and some hot sauce. Honestly, he should have thought to go looking for his nutrition pills weeks ago. If he'd realized just how severe they'd made Bill's situation... or how stubborn Bill would be about asking for help... or that they'd ever plan to keep Bill around long enough that his nutrition would be an issue.

Bill squinted at him, and for a moment Ford thought he was about to start a fight for some insane reason; but then the air seemed to leak out of him, his shoulders sagged, and he just looked at the nutrition pills. "For starters, they'll need more than twice as much iron."

"That much?"

"And more vitamin D, I don't remember the numbers right now." He shut the pouch, sat back, and lifted his cider can again. "All right."

All right? Ford supposed that was all he was getting. He turned to go.

As he did, Bill said, "Bed?"

Ford glanced back. "Yes?"

"Fine," Bill said. "Have nightmares."

He couldn't help letting out a laugh. "Fine. You too."

"It's too late for you to start trying to sweet-talk me like that, Stanford Pines!" But he tilted his can toward Ford—cheers—chugged down the rest, and cracked open a third.

####

Dipper was already in bed when Mabel charged in. He rolled over slightly, saw she was still in her sleepover pajamas, and mumbled, "Going to sleep too?"

She rummaged around in the closet by the door. "I can't waste that kind of time!" She retrieved a shoe box full of the wooden models of the townspeople she'd crudely whittled last summer at a library arts & crafts program run by Wendy's dad. She dumped them out on the floor, and, for lack of a figure representing Bill, tore a corner off a stray sheet of notebook paper and drew his eye on it. "I've got to capitalize on last night's success!"

She snatched her pyramid prism off the windowsill and taped the paper eye on it. "Hey, you." She poked Bartholomew's cradle. "Why were you a big chicken in front of my friends?"

"What, with you waving that camera around?" Bartholomew said. "I didn't want it to know I have a soul to steal."

"You knew?! You jerk!" She gave the cradle a harder poke, rocking it slightly.

Dipper yawned. "Capitalize on what success? The demon summoning?"

"No! Helping Bill make two new friends!" Mabel sat on the floor, plopped the Bill prism down amidst the other wooden figures, and started setting them upright. Waddles waddled over to sniff at them.

"Oh." Dipper groaned and rolled back over.

"The next stage of his rehabilitation is expanding his social circle. Get him some normal friends that don't want to eat people or destroy moons or whatever!" She grabbed up the notebook paper again, tore it into sections, and wrote on each with the nearest gel pen: "Friends!!!" "Maybe" "NO" "Healthy ☆ Rivals" "♡ Potential dates? ♡" She added thoughtfully, "And maybe get him a love life. We had to chase off his last girlfriend."

Dipper groaned louder. "I don't wanna think about Bill dating. That dumb eye-bat was bad enough."

"She's not dumb, she's into avant-garde experimental films. And she watches them with subtitles. Bill said so." She placed her, Grenda's, and Candy's figures in the Friends section, tentatively placed Dipper halfway between Maybe and No after checking to make sure he wasn't watching, and then started scanning her collection for more likely friends. "Who in town do you think would date Bill Cipher?"

"Nobody. Everyone hates him."

She stuck Wendy and her gang in the "Friends!!!" section, she thought they were a safe bet. "Who do you think would date Bill if they don't know he's Bill?"

"Nobody." Dipper pulled his blanket over his head.

"Pbbt, don't be so negative! You've gotta believe in him." Blubs and Durland? They were probably his friends, right? She sorted them accordingly and added Lazy Susan to the "Maybe" section. "Just you watch. I'll have Bill reintegrated into society before the end of the summer!"

Mabel had picked out several more prospective friends for Bill before Dipper sighed, rolled over again, and said, "Why do you have to make friends for Bill?"

"Bro. Come on. When he's left to his own devices, he keeps talking about pulling people's veins out of their bodies or telling them secret information about their own childhoods. He's probably talking about something creepy right now."

####

"I'm telling you," Bill said, gesticulating emphatically with a cider can. "It works. Your cousins will never argue with you again, and you guarantee they'll be with you forever! It's the perfect way to permanently resolve family disputes!"

"I can see your logic," Stan said, grimacing. "However. I'm not eating my cousins."

"Not all your cousins," Bill insisted. "Just one, to send a message. You don't even need to eat the whole guy! Just half a limb or so. If you want to look like the bigger man, you can even let him choose which one."

Looking faintly nauseous, Stan shoved over his unfinished eggs and pancakes and stood. "What the heck was your home life like?"

"Oh, it was terrific. I was the family golden child." Bill dug into Stan's eggs. "I was everything your family hoped you'd be and was disappointed you weren't!" 

"Was that before or after you started eating your cousins?"

"I didn't say I did it. That's your species' thing." Bill said, with a lofty tone that suggested moral superiority, "We're inedible."

"Ha!" Stan shook his head. "You talk a big game for a guy who's never eaten one family member!"

Bill snapped the tab off his cider can and flipped it at Stan's head.

####

"He's delightful, but he's an acquired taste," Mabel said. "He just needs somebody else to help mediate when he meets new people! Like letting two cats sniff each other under the door!"

"Okay, but why you?"

She thought about that, staring at the pyramid representing Bill; then she shrugged. "Somebody has to."

"They really don't."

"Somebody should," Mabel insisted. "I just really want to see him make friends with everybody here. It's like... making it up to the town for hurting them last year."

"I think leaving them alone would work better. After what he did, he doesn't deserve to be friends with anyone in town—"

"It's important to me, okay?" Mabel snapped. "It just is."

What was that for? Did she think he was criticizing her for befriending him? He mumbled, "I didn't mean you."

She was quiet a moment. "I know." 

"Sorry." Dipper was too tired for this conversation; he was just sticking his foot in his mouth. He yawned, muttered, "Good luck scheduling him a playdate, I guess," and rolled over.

####

After sleep and lunch, Ford returned to his study, set up a second blank video cassette to copy the damaged one's data, carefully rewound the damaged one all the way to the beginning, and watched it for the first time in over thirty years.

The recording was grainy and distorted now. It looked so old. This technology had been brand new when Ford had bought his video camera—so new that he'd had to order it from overseas, it hadn't been available in the United States yet. How quickly things changed.

The camera turned to take in Ford's own, younger, beaming face. "This is Dr. Stanford Pines, with the first of what will hopefully be many video recordings of the oddities in Gravity Falls." (In the present, Ford snorted.) "The subject of this first video is a series of magic symbols that, when combined, can animate inanimate objects. Any inanimate object."

He turned the camera around. Like a vampire's morbid pulpit, one of Ford's journals was laid open atop the lid of a black casket. Two heavy chains were laid across each side of the book and locked around the casket's handles to keep them tightly secured. A couple dozen pages in the middle of the book had been left free of the chains, but were pinned down by a cinderblock.

All the security measures were clearly needed; the book was thrashing in its restraints strongly enough to make the casket lid rattle. The visible text writhed across the journal's pages, words and symbols appearing and disappearing in the margins. The susurrations of the pages rubbing against each other sounded like the hissing of a trapped animal.

Ford tipped the cinderblock off the journal and pinned the pages down with his shoe instead. "Several days ago, a local director taught me the spell he used to animate clay figures for his movies. I'd thought perhaps he was creating golems, but aside from the superficial similarity of writing symbols to animate figures of mud, there doesn't seem to be any similarity between his ritual and any golem folklore I've ever heard. Furthermore, his creations are intelligent, capable of speech, and seem to remain loyal to their creator simply out of a passion for acting and respect for his directorial talents rather than any sort of magically-compelled loyalty." A wry note entered his voice. "And I can confirm that the spell itself certainly doesn't impart any loyalty."

 The page below his foot erased itself and replaced the text with large, angry text: "WHAT HAVE YOU DONE TO EARN MY LOYALTY?! YOU DOG EAR MY PAGES! YOU USE ME AS A CHOPPING BOARD!"

"Wh—! Who do you think you are, a Sefer Torah?! Don't be so precious! You're made of faux leather and craft paper, I'll dog ear you all I want!" Ford snapped. "And I already apologized for the chopping board thing!"

The journal stopped moving. "My cover isn't real leather?"

"On my budget?! The closest you've ever come to real cow hide is visiting the Sprott farm!"

While the journal was stunned silent, Ford scooted his foot aside so the camcorder could see a symbol on the opposite page—one of the few bits of ink that didn't seem to shift around the journal's pages. "This is the symbol the director taught me. But it's only supposed to work if you perform an accompanying ritual to activate and power it, which I haven't." He reached down with a gloved hand to flip the loose pages over, then pinned them again under his shoe to let him record another symbol. "This symbol is supposed to power magical artifacts. I suspect writing both these sigils together in the same book has caused them to interact in unexpected ways. But, by themselves, these two are insufficient to bring a book to life—I experimented by copying them both into Journal 1—so perhaps some of the other symbols or spells written in Journal 2 are contributing to—"

"WHAT?!" Journal 2 angrily scrawled around the perimeter of the second symbol. "You tried to bring that teacher's pet to life?! What's wrong with ME!"

"You mean, besides your completely uncooperative attitude, reckless abuse of magic, and murder attempts?" Ford ignored the journal's angry "shouting" as he went on, "But until I figure out what the other symbols are, my... anonymous informant on the occult—"

"You don't mean Creature #326? Tell me it's not Creature #326!"

"—has taught me a sigil that should be able to reverse the effects of the animation spell—"

A series of magical sigils flashed across the journal's page and were quickly replaced by "HA-HA-HA!" The camera shuddered.

"What was that?!" Ford set the camera on the casket where it could watch as he tried to pin down Journal 2's fluttering pages and write on it. "We'll see who's laughing in a minute, you— Stop erasing what I write!" Ford tugged out a sticky note that had been serving as bookmark, hastily scribbled on it, and slapped it into the journal. "Ha!"

The book immediately fell still.

Ford grabbed up a tape dispenser from the floor, pulled off a short strip, and attached the sticky note more securely to the page. "Well. That was effective." He flipped through the journal. "Furthermore, it looks like all the changes Journal 2 made to itself have been reverted. Good. It defaced a lot of data I'd hate to have to reproduce..." As he spoke, the camera slowly rose into the air.

He turned to pick it up, flinched, and quickly got to his feet. "Oh! Uh. Hello."

"Hello," the camera echoed in Ford's voice.

"How did you...?" Ford smacked his forehead, eyes wide with amazement! "Of course! My recording! The symbols my journal wrote! This is fascinating. Recording the symbols on magnetic tape must be just as effective as writing them on paper, even if the symbols aren't visible without specialized equipment. I'll have to experiment with other methods of... of..." Ford petered off as the camera slowly floated higher. He held out a hand hopefully. "Please come back?"

"No," the camera said. "Please give me your soul."

"No." Ford took a deep breath, set Journal 2 on the casket, and flexed his fingers. "Okay. Let's do this again."

As the Ford of thirty-odd years ago wrestled with the camera on the TV screen, the much older Ford sighed. That had been fun. Exploring the bizarre and aberrant had still been fun, back then. That thought disconcerted him; was it no longer fun now? He supposed it still was to an extent. He was just worse at having fun. Harder to dazzle.

He wondered why Journal 2 had been so wary of Creature #326. Bill. It had been right, he was Ford's "anonymous informant"—Ford had told him about his hostile new living journal in a dream, and after Bill had finished laughing, he'd taught Ford how to counteract the spell activating it.

But how did it know?

Could it have warned him about Bill?

Ford would never find out now.

The TV went dark as, in the recording, Ford trapped the camera inside a box. Slightly muffled, Ford said, "Try getting out of that!" Under his breath, he muttered, "I think I prefer writing over narrating anyway."

The screen remained dark for another ten seconds as the camera bumped around and muttered to itself. And then it abruptly cut to a shot of Dipper's bed. Off-screen, Mabel's voice said, "Awesome, still works!" She set the camera on the table under the kids' window—

That was what Ford was looking for. He rewound several seconds and began transferring the recording of Mabel's sleepover onto a fresh tape he'd prepared earlier.

After that, maybe he'd go back to the start again so he could see the other symbols Journal 2 had flashed at the camera and copy them into Journal 5—onto a page already prepared with the magic-negating seal.

####

In the Nightmare Realm, a red book with a golden handprint on the cover boldly labeled "2" floated alone in the void, as it had since it had been tossed in the bottomless pit a year ago.

Its tattered pages were splayed open as it drifted weightlessly through the aether.

On one page near the center of the book, a sticky note with a seal drawn on it was attached to the page with a strip of tape, and surrounded by a warning never to erase the symbol on the sticky note.

The tape had lost its stick after decades buried outdoors; it stuck to the sticky note, but not to the book. The sticky note was barely holding on by a corner.

And as the book slowly wheeled through the void, the last corner peeled off, and the sticky note fluttered away.

Journal 2's pages rustled.

####

(I think y'all who have been keeping up with my posts about this fic know exactly what's coming next. 😎

Thaaat's right. 😎😎

An unrelated flashback chapter!!!

Anyway hope y'all enjoyed, let me know what you think!)