#this really isn’t a difficult concept to comprehend

[tswwwit]

Cult Part 5! Here's One, Two, Three, and Four if ya missed 'em.

“Whatever he’s up to,“ Dipper leans forward in his seat, glaring. “It’s not what you think it is.”

His warning goes unheeded. His glare, unnoticed. The man not only keeps talking to Bill, he does it in the stupidest way possible.

“I don’t believe you, vile tempter,” says the dark-haired man, folding his arms, turning away in a huff. His hips tilt in a way that makes those tiny shorts look ten times stupider than they already were. “Your infinite cunning and dire convincing cannot sway a human pure of heart!”

“Oh, how pure it is.” ‘Bill’ says slowly, capturing the man around the shoulders. “But think about it, mortal - What’s the worst that could happen?”

Some of the pouty defiance fades from the human’s face. His slow, dramatic turn towards Bill is focused in a close shot, so their faces are both in frame.

“Alright,” He says softly, “You bastard.”

Ugh, of course he’d give in easily. Even though it’s a terrible idea.

“Don’t say I didn’t warn you,” Dipper mutters, and stuffs another handful of popcorn in his mouth.

He’s seen his fair share of bad television - more so in the last week than ever before - but this bullshit really takes the cake. 

Dipper stumbled on this drama while flipping through the billion options of Bill’s TV. Somewhere in the middle of random shows and channels, a brief clip caught his eye. Mostly because he thought the main guy looked like Bill, and it paused his thumb for a second.

Turns out it is Bill. Or rather, an actor playing him. The looks don’t quite match, and they’re using a different name - but the likeness is unmistakable, right down to the triangle motif.

For the first five minutes, Dipper had to just boggle at the very concept. Only the most devoted followers know the Truth. The clever plans and private nature of Bill Cipher are solely for those who are initiated in the deepest secrets. Ones that the ignorant masses could never comprehend.

A hundred-some odd episode tv series blows that theory out of the water. He guesses that’s more bullshit he learned from a bunch of ignorant, sheltered jerks.

Honestly, meeting Bill should have clued Dipper in earlier. A guy who talks about himself that much isn’t going to keep a low profile. Seeing it on Bill’s own TV was also weird until he remembered, right. Multidimensional sight. That’d show him things from all over. And pulling all the episodes on a dedicated channel in his living room? That’s an egomaniac’s move. 

So of course Dipper would run into this. There was no better place. 

The next episode starts. The opening credits roll for the dozenth time. Dipper doesn’t move from his position on the couch, but he does roll his eyes at the stupid smile actor Bill gives at the camera. Completely off-base, it’d be way more smug.

He should really stop watching. The first episode alone nearly had him grimacing at how idolatrous it was, and Dipper lived in a cult. Problem is, the worse it gets, the more compelling it becomes.  

Then the theme song ends, and Dipper looks again down at the tiny text at the bottom. The one that reads, ‘based on real events!!!’. 

Sure, it’s the most highly dramatized bullshit he’s ever had the misfortune of watching. Including the soap operas his cult classmate smuggled in all the time. And yes, it’ll be difficult to tell how much is true when it’s less reliable than an overheard rumor. 

But it might give him some leads to go on, and Dipper can’t pass that up.

Suffering through shitty dialogue is a small price to pay, when it comes to unraveling the tangled thread that is Bill Cipher. Especially because his subject keeps trying to wrap up into a whole friggin’ gordian knot whenever he’s not looking.

Besides, Dipper’s already on episode twenty-seven. He might as well see how this season ends. 

The plot picks up on the same convoluted scheme. Judging by last season, it’ll end in some climactic battle for no particular reason. The characters on screen continue their bickering, an intense-back and forth. One that ignores the very insightful commentary from anyone watching. 

Halfway through, ‘Bill’ double- or perhaps triple-crosses his human rival/friend, and Dipper spends a few seconds to feel very I-told-you so about it. The plot thread isn’t resolved though, so there’s no way to know how that turns out without watching another episode. 

And Dipper’s bowl of popcorn is empty.

He contemplates the dish first, then the TV. Whether to get up and refresh snacks, or stick around to see how ‘Bill’ ruins that guy’s day for the seventh time. A tough decision. 

He’s just about decided to raid the kitchen for snacks, when the front door ominously creaks open.

Bill Cipher, Lord of Dreams, King of the Nightmare Realm, storms into the room with irritation in his terrible gaze, and furious purpose in his stride. He wears a scowl on his face that would make even the most apostate follower cower in terror, a demeanor that speaks of his infinite violence. The thrum of magic in the room builds, intense as it always is in his so-called glorious presence.

As that single golden eye alights on Dipper, he waves and says, “Hi.”

All the tension slides off Bill like a particularly messy sloughing of skin. “Hey yourself, sapling!” He waves back with more enthusiasm. “Been one heck of a day, lemme tell ya that.”

It sounds lighthearted. A pretty decent act. Tough luck for Bill, though; Dipper can read him pretty well by now. A check of Bill’s body language gives him all the info he needs.

Huh. There haven’t been many bad days since he’s met this ‘god’. But by the look of it, this one was more than most.

“That bad?” Dipper asks. Then, since he’s not doing much anyway - “Wanna complain about it?”

A blasphemous question. No follower should delve too deep, for that is the purview of divine revelation. The wisdom of Cipher - his most terrible secrets - are only revealed at his discretion. Not something to be pried at by the greedy and curious. 

Dipper still marvels at how wrong they got all of it. Total misses on absolutely everything. Bill’s got secrets, sure. ‘Wisdom’ is questionable.

And when it comes to learning about his life, prying is unnecessary. 

Stopping him from talking is the hard part.

“Don’t even get me started!” Bill says, clearly delighted.. He spreads his arms wide. “But you did! Too late to take it back now.”

“Mmh,” Dipper agrees. He’s got another episode queued up. That’ll be a nice distraction. Bill’s rambling can be interesting, but his complaints are longwinded. When you think about it, he’s really doing this ‘god’ a service by listening to all the bullshit.

He really doesn’t know what his old cult was talking about. Clearly they’d never met the guy. When this is how Bill talks to some random human, it’s amazing he has any secrets at all.

He waits for the oncoming onslaught as the show keeps playing on. The theme song finishes and the scene opens. There’s a new location, too - god, this better not be another timeskip. Demons might keep track of that stuff easily, but Dipper’s had to start taking notes. 

It takes a second before he notices Bill’s… actually not talking. 

A quick glance over - yep, just like he thought. Staring like a creep again. One of Bill’s favorite pastimes. This time paired with a pleased smile, and his hands on his hips.

“What’s up?” Dipper asks. There’s no rhyme or reason to the creeping so far - but he’ll figure out the pattern one day.

“Hm.” Bill gives him a slow onceover. The corner of his mouth quirks up another fraction. “Nice outfit.”

A quick check reveals… Nothing particularly interesting. His clothes are identical to, like, the same three outfits he always wears. Jeans and a t-shirt - though today he ditched the flannel for this big hoodie he found in his laundry. It’s remarkably soft. “Uh. Thanks?”

Bill says nothing. The smirk grows even wider. Very suspicious. Dipper narrows his eyes. “Are you making fun of me?” “Who knows?” Bill says, teeth showing in his smile. “Interesting outer layer you got going on there.”

Dipper checks the hoodie. No, he doesn’t sense any magic. If there were pins he would have felt them, and a curse would have kicked in by now. It’s just a random hoodie that’s admittedly too broad in the shoulders, but very comfortable. It even smells good.

He waits a few seconds - Bill keeps staring, oddly smug - but with no information forthcoming, Dipper decides to chalk it up as another ‘weird demon thing’. There’s a lot of weird demon things. Most aren’t as innocuous as random fashion critique, so he might as well let this slide. 

“Cute as that look is, you did ask for the rundown, sapling.” Bill loosens his bowtie, letting the ends drape over his shirt. “You know what my least favorite part of today was?”

“Dealing with idiots.” Dipper replies. It’s always idiots. He rifles through popcorn kernels to find any remaining puffs.

“Sure, sure. Most times!” Bill strides over, sighing dramatically. “But today it was dealing with sycophants.” 

Dipper runs that through his mental dictionary - then frowns. “They weren’t flattering enough?”

“Close!” With a grin, Bill leans on the arm of the couch. “More like praise comes in a lotta different flavors, and this one -” He stops mid-sentence, with a sudden frown.

Pausing? That’s unusual. Dipper rips his attention away from the show, glancing up.  “This one was…?”

“Hm? Oh, y’know.” Oddly enough, it seems like Bill genuinely wasn’t deflecting. Simply thinking, his head slightly tilted. He snaps his fingers twice. “Like, suckups are one thing. Currying favor’s the most common grift in the universe! It’s the… That kinda saccharine crap that’s a hair too sincere. Like…” He wags his hand in the air, fingers wiggling as he tries to grasp for an invisible word. Grimacing when he doesn’t find it. “Ugh. English doesn’t have the right vocab.”

A multilingual master of the mind probably does feel limited by speech. And every day, Dipper learns something new. 

Demons have a different culture. Human customs don’t apply. Learning it has been a whole process, more arduous than he’d expected - because it’s got an entirely new language, with a million new words.

Apparently said language has a lot of terms for ‘suckup’.

Dipper rummages around for an English word that might fit. “So it was… Creepy?”

“Close!” Bill agrees, looking pleased. “Little bit obsessive. A touch like they’re up to something.” He makes a face. “Or worse, they’re not! Even when every non-braindead being should know I’m not on the market.”

“The market for…?”

“Most everything,” Bill says, with his usual amount of detail. 

“I would have thought you get that a lot.” Dipper frowns. Power, money, fame - Bill’s got it all. As the biggest shark around, he should be used to remoras.

“Totally! Everybody wants what I got, sapling. Power especially.” The couch barely bounces when Bill plops himself beside Dipper. “But just ‘cause I have it in spades doesn’t mean I’m handing it out like eyeballs at a wedding.”

“Um.” Except he kind of is. Because. If he wasn’t, then why has Dipper’s magic been so strong recently. There’s no way that’s a coincidence -

Bill leans in closer, meeting his gaze directly. One eyebrow slowly lifts.

Dipper ducks his head, scooting an inch away. Bill hasn’t said anything. He didn’t need to.

Special. 

Suddenly it’s very important that Dipper fiddle with the unpopped kernels in the bottom of his popcorn bowl. He was going to get more snacks. Right. Kitchen’s not far from here.

Before he can rise, Bill snaps his fingers and the bowl refills. Overflows, even, scattering kernels everywhere. Then he shoves his hand in up to the wrist, sending more of it flying.

“So that’s the losers I gotta deal with. Every day with these idiots! And I’m supposed to meet up with a few of ‘em later. If we weren’t talking an old favor, I’d pass,” Bill says. He slumps back, with an uncharacteristic sigh. Then shrugs, kicking his feet up onto a previously nonexistent ottoman. “But hey! There’s always time for a vicious betrayal!”

Dipper makes a soft sound of commiseration. That’s an interesting fact, too. Favors, deals. Those are demonic things, He wonders what those involve, and how - 

“Ha! Now this is a classic,” Bill says, interrupting before the question can form. He’s watching the TV now, grinning wide.  “How’ve you been liking the show? Looks like the main character’s a real handsome guy!”

“It’s terrible,” Dipper says, flat. It gets a chuckle, but no argument.

“Sure, I’ve seen better,” Bill says, nose wrinkling up at a particularly dramatic line from the actor on screen. He flips the TV off, then shrugs. “But eh,” Hand waggling, an ‘iffy’ gesture. “When you got a billion-eye view of the multiverse, you see way dumber crap than this.” 

Fair point. Dipper shrugs, but doesn’t comment. Something to think about, there. That Bill’s seen this before, for one, but also-

“How much of this is true?” He asks. 

If this demonically produced drama is even slightly accurate, Bill will have a strong opinion. Once he starts talking, everything will reveal itself.

“Great question! I’d say…” Bill pauses to stroke his chin. Aiming for ‘solemn’, but mostly reminding Dipper that the jerk never needs to shave. “What does it matter if a narrative is factual or fictional? Everyone’s got their own version of how things go down! Truth’s a sucker’s game when you really think about-”

An elbow to the ribs doesn’t quite shut Bill up. Just gives him enough pause to let Dipper interject.

“Philosophy doesn’t suit you.” He nudges him again before he can derail the topic. Bill sticks out his tongue, and for a second Dipper’s tempted to poke it in revenge for before. “I’ll settle for which parts actually happened.”

“Spoilsport,” Bill says, sounding oddly warm. “Eh, they took a lot of artistic license in this series. And that’s coming from me.” Shrugging, he makes a so-so- sort of gesture, weighing it in his palms. “Call it less than you’d like, but more than you’d think.”

Dipper glances at the screen. 

The battle at the end of the episode is a poorly-cut fight. Bill, human-formed, faces off against seven gorgons. Which is bullshit, they’re territorial - and the shoggoth at sunset brings it almost to the level of parody. The human of this episode has fainted in a way that leaves him leaning against Bill without somehow falling on his ass.

Yeah. That about tracks. Demon to human translation: ‘Artistic license’ means ‘total bullshit’.

Almost on cue, Dipper feels fingers brushing against his hoodie. There’s a shift as Bill adjusts his seat, his arm unsubtly snaking over behind Dipper’s head. 

Any minute now that ominous limb will drop onto his shoulders. Just like the last half dozen times. God forbid Bill not take up all the room he can; he thinks everything is his. Even gorgons aren’t this territorial.

Dipper can live with it. Hell, if the worst thing Bill ever does to him is invade his personal space and talk over an already bad TV show, he’s basically set for life. 

And truthfully, it’s not that bad. Less irritating than it should be. Having someone close, even if they are an obnoxious evil demon god, feels nice. 

One day he’s going to know why he’s being bothered by Bill in the first place. What made him stand out among the rest. What he’s for. The question doesn’t upset him like it used to, but he can’t help but pick at it like a still-healing scab. 

It feels like he has a decent amount of facts already. Between the journal in the guest room, watching the highly dramatized version of Bill’s life, and talking to the demon himself… 

Dipper glances over at Bill - still focused on the show, crunching popcorn - then down at the long line of his wrist. 

Even Bill’s providing clues, in his own, unique way. When he arguably shouldn’t. 

It would be so, so easy for him to cut it all off. Burn the books, break the TV, cage Dipper up and beat the curiosity out of him. Taking every step the cult did and more, in his ‘wrath’ and ‘infinite cruelty’.

But he’s not. He wouldn’t, not to Dipper. 

In fact, Bill’s been - in a weird, exclusively Bill-ish way - kind of helpful. Hell, he’s having a great time. 

He clearly delights in watching Dipper scramble around, trying to follow a breadcrumb trail of hints. Even more fun is occasionally dropping a bunch of clues down the wrong track, then hiding behind a tree to giggle. He especially likes to dangle something just close enough to grab, then teasing Dipper as he tries to make the leap. 

So much of his time is spent making stuff annoying, teasing and taunting and tricking - but Bill’s not actually stopping him. As hobbies go, it’s both incredibly dickish, and totally benign. It’s almost like… 

Dipper gets the sense that Bill expects him to figure it all out. Bill just also thinks he should make the journey very… ‘interesting’.

Joke’s on him, though. He’s left more hints than he intended. He may not even realize how far Dipper’s come.

The show plays on. The actor ‘Bill’ argues with the latest, nearly-identical human guy. They change actors a lot; usually whenever there’s a timeskip. They always have exactly the same role, too - ‘guy who argues with the demon in charge’. Probably because demons consider all humans interchangeable. 

There’s some interaction between the various planes. Everyone knows that. Demons are pretty rare on the list, but lower-level entities occasionally get summoned, or break in through some magical mishap. 

Back in the cult, Dipper learned that Bill Cipher has bothered and convinced and manipulated mortals for eons. His unearthly machinations twist the strings of his human puppets, all the time. Slowly building to the inevitable goal - the world, under Bill’s eternal thumb. He never interacts directly; the physical plane is not yet his to roam.

But in the drama, Bill is on the physical plane. Not acting through haunting prophetic dreams, or divine revelations. Just bitching and prodding and poking in person. 

And while the setting’s  fictionalized version of the place, it’s definitely not under any demonic reign.

The implications took a while to sink in, but Dipper thinks he gets it now. Parts have clicked together; facts he didn’t know were connected until just now. 

Bill probably doesn’t realize it, but he’s helped  there too. Filling in the gaps. Adding extra detail.

He’s even doing it right now. 

The unasked for commentary track continues as Bill talks. Going on about how he hasn’t been to that country in millenia, or how the seasons are wrong for this encounter. Elaborating on details, mocking others, going on about the stupid plotline and dialogue -  

Totally bragging about his earthly knowledge. About the physical world. Because he’s been there.

Dipper sits up a little straighter. It bumps the hand trailing through his hair away, and he settles back to let Bill’s idiot fingers continue their idle path. 

He can’t be totally certain without proof, though. And Bill has always liked it when he’s picked up the clues…

Dipper speaks up.

“I think more of this is real than you’d admit, Bill. You’ve…” Didn’t laud himself over them, no divine visitation- “Hung out with humans.”

“Hard not to! What with billions of you dreaming all over the place.” Bill says, deftly avoiding the question. Staring at the screen now, focused forward in a way that makes it hard to catch his eye. “You’re everywhere on that scummy pebble you call a habitable planet.”

No confirmation, but no denial. Which means Dipper’s on the right track. 

“I mean you’ve been on Earth. In the, uh, flesh,“ Dipper insists. No triangles were visible, maybe that form can’t be sustained in reality - but this is no time to get derailed. He seizes the thread of logic, yanking on it with all he’s got. “Was-”

“Pfft, who hasn’t!” Bill interrupts. He flicks the question away, snorting in amusement. “Pretty permeable place you got there.”

“That’s at least two hundred years of human interaction,” Dipper insists. He jabs his index finger at the screen, then into Bill’s ribs. “And I can’t help but notice none of it is in your realm. It’s on Earth. Which you haven’t conquered-” Before Bill’s mouth can open, he holds up a hand. The lie is so dumb he doesn’t wanna hear it. “Nice try, I was just there.”

“Yeah, yeah, make a mountain out of a molehill.” Bill buffs his nails on his shirt, chin lifting. “I’ve just been busy! I’ll get around to it!”

“Sure you will,” Dipper says. He narrows his eyes. “I’ve figured you out, Cipher. I know what’s going on.”

Plausible deniability went out the window ages ago, thrown with such force that glass shattered everywhere. Leaving Bill standing in the middle, wondering aloud what happened, with a perfectly innocent look on his face..

It’s about humans. About earth, and Bill, and Dipper himself. Why Bill never showed up before, in all those years - decades - of cult summons, the ones he never ever answered, even though they really tried. Not just that he didn’t see them, or didn’t care to. 

It’s because Bill Cipher can’t do everything.

Bill’s been evasive, per his usual. He’s not quite meeting Dipper’s gaze, and keeping up a dismissive tone. 

But he can’t deny that he’s interested, even though he tries to keep his expression aloof. It’s not working so great. His mouth keeps twitching as the grin starts to leak out around the edges. 

“Oh?” Bill’s voice has a strange tone. He leans in until their thighs touch, sides together; he must be really interested in something. “Go on, sapling. Enlighten me!” 

That’s the core of a line of truth, leading somewhere important - if Dipper dares to follow. He’s getting close, he can feel it. It’s dangerous, but- 

Getting the words out is harder than he thought. Challenging Cipher is - he starts talking before he can talk himself out of it.

“You can’t take over reality.” He keeps his voice level, daring Bill to interrupt. “You don’t have all your powers there.” 

A pause; Bill’s oddly silent. His face is blank. 

Before he can get angry, Dipper rambles out the rest. “Or at least not yet. You’d have taken over already if you did. I mean, it’s not like you didn’t have time. You can’t get the world because…” Here it goes - “Something’s stopping you." 

He watches, tense, as Bill’s expression sours. Looking askance at Dipper, he folds his arms in a huff. Muttering something under his breath about ‘stubborn’ and ‘annoying’.

But Bill doesn’t deny it. 

God, and even the look on his face. The one that’s both annoyed but also, maybe, resigned? Like it’s an old, old roadblock that he’s both huffy about, and very used to, it’s…

Holy shit. Dipper’s right. 

His heart is racing. Merely guessing that Bill can’t accomplish his main driving purpose is a far cry from him saying it, or even not arguing with it. The very thought makes his head swim.  

But he can’t stop now, not while he’s ahead. 

“So there’s some obstacle even you can’t get rid of,” Dipper says. Looking at Bill out of the corner of his eye, he pitches his voice in a tone of reverent, religious awe. “I can’t even imagine how powerful that is. How incredibly-”

“Hey! Don’t get so full of yourself, Pine Tree, it’s just not the right time yet!” Bill sits up straight, indignant. He bares his teeth in a sneer. “Maybe there’s something I still want from that miserable little rock, you ever think of that?”

Another admission. An unforced error. Bill winces very slightly as he hears his own misstep, and Dipper swells with pride. 

Bill thinks he’s all high and mighty and oh-so-secretive. A master of mysteries. If only he didn’t talk way too much. He didn’t think Dipper was clever enough to trick him and he gave everything away.

“That’s it. That’s why- why everything.” Dipper beams as he waves over, well, everything. “You keep going back there, and you keep picking a human, wandering around with some random guy - because you can’t get what you want without one.”

Not a cult, building power. Not a massive ritual spell. Nothing grand and showy; Bill would have done that if it was effective. That’s way more his style, and far more magically powerful. 

There’s been none of that. Not in the show, not in real life. He hasn’t used the cult, he doesn’t have a base of power. Bill doesn’t peddle with groups, both in the real-life cult and the cannon fodder in the show. 

He’s only focused on one person.

Out of billions of people he could bother, Bill latches onto a single, unfortunate guy and throws their life into total chaos. It’s a curse, an annoyance, a bolt of bullshit out of nowhere - and would also ensure you don’t bleed out until he’s had his ‘fun’. 

Being picked out from the crowd like that. Having the full brunt of Bill Cipher himself foisted upon you, laser-focused. Going from a nobody to someone who has all his attention - 

Wouldn’t that make someone kind of special? 

No response, again. Bill has retreated to his last, mocking resort. Flapping his hand like a puppet as Dipper talks, and making faces. 

Yes. Finally, Dipper got him. He followed the breadcrumbs, avoided the trap, set up one of his own - and Bill walked right into it. 

Dipper gives him the smuggest, most annoying smile he can. He’s got plenty of examples to draw from. 

Bill glares, and flips him off. “Sure, sure, live it up,” He says, rolling his eye dramatically. Waving off the loss like it’s no big deal, even though it clearly is. “You don’t have a clue what’s really going on.”

A blatant lie. Hardly his best one, either. 

Dipper lets himself enjoy this win for a full minute. Rare chances like this should be savored. He has to hold onto the couch so he doesn’t grab Bill’s dumb handsome face and shake it, for being so very, very stupid. He’s never going to let him live this down

“So. Why do you need a mortal?” Dipper asks after a while. Bill isn’t volunteering any more information, and there’s one more part he hasn’t quite figured out. “The thing you’re after. Why can’t you just,” He grasps at the air in demonstration. “Take it?”

Bill’s eye twitches, once. He doesn’t say anything. 

“I mean-” Dipper hesitates. “That’s a ton of work. Heading to a different realm, picking a new mortal every time - that’s decades - no, centuries of effort. The human has to do something, right? You wouldn’t do all that just for fun.”

“Excuse you, it’s plenty fun!” Lifting a finger, Bill wags it chidingly. “You think I’m above messing with some mortal just for kicks?”

Shit, he’s not. Ruining a random person’s life for the hell of it is so very, very Bill.

“Alright, maybe.” Dipper admits. This could be because Bill’s a capricious dick. “But I’ll bet there’s more to it.”

“Never have one motive when you could have six,” Bill agrees. The grin widens, he wiggles his eyebrows - and he starts cackling. 

So yes, there’s more. And no, he’s not telling. 

Dipper racks his brain for ideas. For clues. Whatever Bill’s after must be extremely important if a literal demon god keeps chasing after it, over and over again. Nothing comes to mind, though. 

Eventually he sighs, waiting for Bill to be done with his stupid smug laughter. It doesn’t cover up his mistake.

“So I guess that makes me your latest human… companion thing.” He prompts, once Bill’s finally done with his smug, jerk laughter.

One of the first things he noticed - that room in Bill’s penthouse. The one meant for a specific type of person, as clear as a fingerprint. How many of Bill’s mortals stayed in that room? How many of them-

Those notes in the journal. Dipper has to go back and check them. Now that he knows it was someone in exactly the same position, there might be more to learn.

“Congrats, kid! Ya got parts of it! Well played! But I gotta ask one thing.” Bill cocks his head to one side. A brief, amused smirk. “There are plenty of magical guys around! A lot of ‘em  begging for demonic contracts!” The smirk widens, sharp teeth showing. “Why do you think I picked you?”

Dipper opens his mouth. After a beat, he shuts it. 

He was so busy thinking about the mechanics of his presence that he didn’t think about the motive. 

Obviously Bill grabs a human for practical purposes, so he can get that thing he wants on Earth. If it’s an entertaining person, that’s a bonus in his eye. This time it ended up being Dipper, because…

Not because he’s devoted. Or the most knowledgeable guy around. He’s smart, but too aware of the experience he lacks. Weeks ago he would have said it was the ritual knowledge from the cult, but since that’s less than worthless… Something else, then.

“Because…” Dipper starts, then hesitates. Mind racing, trying to pin the strings between the bits of knowledge he has before Bill throws a wrench into it. “Uh.”

Shit. Shit, he’s so close, there’s a piece missing. A final step. He struggles to find it but there’s little time to think; Bill’s expectant expression demands an answer. 

“Convenience?” Dipper hazards. He was right there, in the middle of a powerful ritual, directed at Bill, so- 

Instantly he knows it was the wrong guess. By the way Bill’s face fell, it was off by several hundred miles.

“Ooh, nice try.” Bill tugs Dipper closer, hand dragging through his hair - Dipper ducks out of the way before he can start a ‘companionable’ noogie. “You really missed the mark there!”

“Any chance you’ll tell me what that is?” Dipper says, with no small amount of bitterness. 

Damn it. He was so close he could almost taste it.

“Nope!” 

“You- hmph.” With a grunt, Dipper scoots away and out of his grip. He’s used to all the deliberate frustration, but right now it just sucks.

“Aw, don’t make that face!” Bill scoots after him, trying to get his arm around him again. Dipper swats it away. “Tell ya what - here’s a hint! You’re something a guy doesn’t see every day, sapling.” He winks. “Pretty unique.”

How very specific. Totally not opaque. How does Bill manage to give more facts and make things more mysterious in the process? It’s a really annoying talent.

Dipper sulks then, for a bit. When Bill tries petting his air again, he smacks his arm away, muttering unflattering things under his breath. It makes Bill laugh again, cackling in delight.

“What’s the matter?” Bill nudges him, a teasing laugh. “Ease up, kid. Given enough time, you’ll figure out some real secrets.”

“May Cipher hear your words,” Dipper says, the old phrase springing up before he can stop himself. He sucks in a breath through his teeth, cringing away from his own voice.

Thankfully, the slip gets Bill laughing. Dipper’s turn to not live something down; they’re one for one today.

“Okay, some of the affectations are adorable,” Bill says, nearly pinching Dipper’s cheek before he elbows him in the side. “Hardly worth all the other crap, but still!!”

“It really wasn’t,” Dipper says. He rubs at his left wrist. ‘All the other crap’ barely covers it.

“Don’t worry, sapling.” Bill says, voice low and satisfied. He squeezes Dipper’s knee, grip tightening. “Once we got everything in order - we’re gonna wreak some havoc on those idiots! All the fun stuff and more!”

‘Fun stuff’. 

Spending time with Bill, even in Dipper’s position of relative safety, teaches you a lot about what he thinks is ‘fun’. 

He’s not sure why he didn’t see this coming. 

“Is that… so.”

“It is! Getting back at those who wronged you, tormenting the tormentors. Punishment returned with neat ironic twists!” Bill waits for a beat, then grins, jostling Dipper with a gentle shake. “Come on, you gotta have ideas!”

“A few, yeah.” A lot, actually. 

Being favored by a ‘god’. Chosen, in a way. Having Bill’s favor means having his full permission to enact vengeance. 

He’d be lying if he said he never thought about… what he’d do, if he could. Fleeting ideas from too many nights lying in bed. Staring at the ceiling, feeling the burn in the back of his mouth, or the pain in his knees or the stripes on his back. Frustration and anger and hurt, bubbling up into red-hot thoughts that tasted like blood even with a missing tongue. 

Dipper swallows. He rubs at his throat. 

“Ooh, I bet you’ve got a lot.” Bill purrs, wrapping his arm around Dipper’s waist. He walks his fingers up Dipper’s knee, trailing up his thigh. “Whatcha got in mind? Turning them inside out? Bone dissolving? Rearranging their legs where their ears should be and making them try to do a cartwheel?”

“Uh,” Dipper says, then, “Well.” 

Bill is way more creative than Dipper is. Half the ideas he’s mentioned Dipper couldn’t pull off, and even if he could it’d be… Messier than he’s comfortable with. In those moments of pain and rage, he would have - even then, it’d be a stretch. 

Though maybe Dipper wouldn’t mind when it came to the priest. Too bad he’s already dead. 

What will he do? When he goes back?

He can see their faces in his mind’s eye. All the people he knows. The only people he ever knew, in that life that feels so far away.They’ll show up again in the room of ceremony, once they get wind of their god’s return. Except this time, he’ll be standing proud at the altar, with everyone in front of him, staring in…

He knows how they stared at Bill, at least. That mix of wonder and terror, their eyes wide. They’ve always believed so much. Hopeful in a way that Dipper never was - 

Or. Was, rather. Only when he wasn’t so stupid. 

And isn’t it just - so pathetic, and sad. Thinking things might turn out well. That something good might happen, when someone better knows it won’t. Those idiot, expectant moments before you know there’s a punishment coming, that leave you without a chance of defending yourself.

Dipper can feel the burn of Bill staring at him. Waiting to hear his most horrible, gory ideas, and bring them into terrifying technicolor.

“I’m not telling.” He states finally, sounding more prim than he would like. “Nice try. It’s, um. Going to be a surprise.”

“And I can’t wait to see it!” Bill beams, nearly bouncing in place. His enthusiasm is so powerful it’s almost catching. “Mark my words, kid - it’s gonna be a real party.”

“A super fun one,” Dipper says. “Totally.” He offers a smile back, waits for Bill to start cackling - then quickly looks away before his face gives up the game.

For such a consummate liar, Bill’s hit rate on detecting them is only 50/50.

Though. It isn't a lie, really. Dipper does have a lot of ideas. And what he ends up doing to the cult will be a surprise. 

In that he’s not sure what he’ll do until he gets there. 

“Take your time, sapling! Whatever you come up with is gonna be great, I’m sure.” Bill rubs his hands together, a glint of sinister anticipation in his eye. “I can’t wait to see it.”

Dipper lets out a breath he didn’t know he was holding. “I hope you’ll like it.”

Of course it wasn’t going to happen today. That’d be a quick turnaround by anyone’s standards. Even Bill himself needs longer than a few days to cook up a… what did he call it that one time? A ‘showy little number with a twist at the end’. Anything else would be disappointing. 

Anyway, it’s too early to make definitive plans. Bill said he should take his time, and Dipper believes him. Shoving his human back into the world half-cocked would ruin the entertainment. 

And when you think about it, there are so many options that it could take a lot of time to narrow them down. There could be setbacks, and stutters. It could take weeks, maybe months, to get everything just right. A punishment ironic yet powerful, subtle yet dramatic.

Who knows how long it’ll take until Dipper’s ready to head back? Certainly it won’t feel very long, to a guy who’s billions of years old. And as long as he’s making some progress, nothing needs to happen just yet. 

“Ooh, this one,” Bill says suddenly. He sits up straighter as something catches his attention. “I remember when - ah, but that’d be spoilers!”

Dipper looks up. Spoilers for-?

Oh. A new episode started when he wasn’t paying attention. “It’s still a bad show,” He mutters. He could turn it off out of spite, just to bother Bill - but he did kinda want to see what happened with the twelve-ring summon the ‘bad’ guys were planning. 

Another episode would actually be kind of great, thinking about it. He could use the distraction.

Bad TV, Dipper’s learning, is nice. One of the few times where he can almost let his brain turn off. 

And having someone else who thinks the show is dumb somehow enhances it. 

The climactic battle has the worst dialogue, and terrible graphics. Dipper can barely look at the monsters, they’re so poorly rendered.  Bill agrees that they needed a better illusionist; half of the explosions look like they were drawn. 

Chatting about something so trivial makes everything so easy. Dipper lets out a laugh when Bill mocks his own actor’s performance, then swats at him when Bill teases him for being a dork.

Some idle comment sparks a bit of bickering. One of them throws popcorn at the other. Dipper doesn’t remember who started it - only that by the end, the bowl is empty again, and he’s smiling for what feels like the first time in hours.

Actor Bill hisses,“Oh, you are a vindictive, terrible mortal.” His suit has mostly melted off from the acid, leaving shreds of it hanging off his arms and chest. The shreds slide off his skin as he storms forward. “A pitiful being like you should never exist!”

“Yet I do!” Protests the human, standing with fists on his hips and a truly defiant look. One only partly ruined by his totally shirtless form.

“You never stood a chance against me,” Actor Bill purrs, slamming a hand into the bark of a tree, pinning his captive in place. “There’s no escape, kid! There never will be!”

“Oh yeah?” The man’s chin juts upward, a sneer of sheer contempt - totally unrealistic, nobody would get away with that - as he flips Bill off. “Then I’ll be your own personal curse, demon. You’ll never escape me either.”

The music surges, a broad orchestra that’s… honestly a jarring clash to the argument that breaks out. You can barely hear what they’re talking about over the grand music.

“Just shut up will you?” The man yells.

With a broad sneer, Actor Bill leans in, smug grin surprisingly close to the real version. “Make me.”

The human fumes, eyes narrowed. His fists clench as if he’s about to throw a punch. But when he extends his arm it’s too slow for that, and his hand is open. It seizes ‘Bill’ by the back of the neck, yanking him in, then -

Dipper nearly leaps out of his seat, eyes wide. Only the pressure of Bill’s arm over him keeps him from standing.

“Three stars for timing, zero for technique.” Bill gives the TV a thumbs down. “That’s way too much tongue! This ain’t slug wrestling for crying out loud.”

Dipper’s shoulders rise nearly to his ears. He doesn’t dare glance at the screen. Only once the wet noises stop, and the credits music rolls, does he try darting one in Bill’s direction.

Who seems entirely, implausibly bored. He cups a hand over his mouth as he yawns, loosely splayed over the couch. 

“You’re, uh. Okay with that?” Dipper asks. He tucks his hands between his knees, leaning forward. “It just seems, uh.”

“Seems ‘uh’, what?” 

“Like,” Dipper gestures vaguely at the screen, even though it’s faded to black. The credits roll, a series of ominously glowing symbols scrolling up the screen. “That was…” He searches for a word, and fails. 

“Terrible writing,” Bill says, bored. He shakes his head, lips drawn into a line. “You’d think someone would come up with a better plot for this kinda crap. It’s not like there isn’t material to go on.”

“But he kissed you,” Dipper says, before he can stop himself. 

It’s one thing to blaspheme a little, Dipper himself is no stranger to forbidden acts, but this one takes the cake. The whole bakery, even. To do that at all is bad enough, but to Bill or - or an actor playing him, obviously it’s not the same thing, but still-

“Yeah, yeah, smooching, whatever.” The concept hasn’t phased Bill in the slightest. He snorts, grin widening. “Contrary to your idiot idolatry, I have been known to practice a liplock once in a while!”

“You-” Dipper starts, then stops. “I-” He shuts his eyes, then blinks rapidly. “Yeah, okay.”

So. Bill isn’t surprised, because this is - he sees everything, it’s not like he didn’t know about that kind of stuff. 

It’s just that. As far as he’s concerned, there’s nothing to get worked up about. Because nothing that happened there was wrong.

Dipper presses the heels of his hands into his eyes to rub them, then draws them down slowly over his face. 

Every time he thinks he’s found the bottom of the pit of bullshit he learned back in the cult, he finds another goddamn level beneath it. There may never be an end to all the lies. 

Another one he can strike off the ‘sin’ list. There’s basically nothing left now, with Bill indulging in everything from gluttony to sloth to… that.

Every whim Bill has, he indulges. Often to excess, and always with aplomb. Dipper never had the opportunity or ability to do even a tenth of what Bill has, and - god, he wonders what that’s like. 

“Do you…” How to phrase this. Dipper wipes sweating palms on his jeans. “Have you… kissed a lot of people?”

The words come out in a bit of a rush. Bill snorts in amusement, which is a relief; that wasn’t the worst question to ask. 

“Depends! What’s ‘a lot’? I’m pretty particular about my partners.” Bill’s smile widens, and he wiggles his eyebrows. A quick squeeze Dipper’s shoulder, just above the bicep. “But sure! I’ve known a guy or two worth putting a peck on.”

“Okay,” Dipper says. Then, because that feels inadequate. “Cool.” 

Because of course he has. Bill’s put his mouth on. Thoughts are spinning in his head now, rapid and light. 

“Come to think of it, it’s been a while since I’ve dabbled in the dating scene!” Bill continues, with an odd tone in his voice. “Pretty tough to find the right guy these days, when you’re holding out for something special.” A nudge, as his eyebrows go double-time.

God, and he would have options- Didn’t Bill say it earlier? People pursue him. For power, sure, but that’s only what he mentioned. Kind of weird, though, Dipper’s only heard of men chasing after -

Wait. Wait, no, how did he never consider this before? Maybe because his stupid upbringing blinded him; Bill’s not human. The shape he’s wearing doesn’t mean anything, metaphysically, doesn’t speak to what he really is, and he just said that at some point he’s kissed a man.

“Are you a girl?” Dipper blurts. Staring wide-eyed at that angular face, at the arms and then a little longer at his chest. 

The look of sheer incredulity Bill levels on him makes Dipper sink down into his seat. 

“What?” Bill asks, and - oh god. That’s the first genuinely bewildered look Dipper’s ever seen on him. 

“I thought - I was wrong.” Dipper’s face burns, he wants to cringe himself into a ball and then fall between the couch cushions. “Sorry.” 

Great. Dumb guess, shitty concept. Now he looks like an idiot. His very first assumption was the right one. More fool him for overcorrecting.

“Whatever, kid. And don’t say ‘sorry’,” Bill flicks his fingers. Awkwardness slides off his back like water on a duck, he’s grinning again. “None of your human crap applies, y’know?” He brings his hands together, index fingers and thumbs forming a familiar, three-sided symbol. “I’m the shape you see on caution signs, not bathroom doors.”

“Right.” Dipper perks up. So he wasn’t totally wrong, just... not at all right. Still embarrassing, he should change the subject. “Um. So-”

“But I do have a dick, if that’s what you’re asking.” Bill adds, grinning way too wide. 

“I wasn’t.” Dipper claps hands over his ears. It fails to cover up the delighted chortle beside him.

Guess he’s learning all kinds of things about Bill today. Just not ones he wanted. 

Not helped by the way Bill leans in very closer, tickling him on the side in a way that makes him jump again. He’s about to scramble off the couch or do something inadvisable like shove someone else off the dang thing - when Bill’s ringtone goes off. 

“Ugh, are you- Blegh.” Bill says, moderately annoyed. He leans on Dipper for a moment as he fishes around in his pocket, a smothering weight. How is a simple human shape so heavy.

Whatever he sees on his phone screen has him sticking his tongue out. “Ugh,” He repeats, frowning at. Lifting his arm off of Dipper, and holding up a finger. “Be right back! I gotta take this.”

Dipper hopes the jerk gets lost on the way and falls down a hole. Not really, just - it would be something to say when he’s at a loss for anything else. He just rolls his eyes instead, watching Bill depart with a pointed stride and a grumpy mutter.

Finally, some space to breathe. To think. The mind magic of Bill’s presence always has Dipper scrambling for something to think about that isn’t his too-powerful aura. 

He taps the edge of the bowl, an idle beat. Feeling the chill on his side where Bill’s body kept it warm. 

Yep. Just Dipper, and the tv, and any remaining popcorn, all to himself. Nothing wrong with that. 

He brushes around the bowl without any particular intent. Kernels rustle against his fingers, and he spends a minute swishing them around, even though his hand gets greasy.

The remote lies inches away. Easy to pick up if he wanted to distract himself. Finishing the season is an option, but feels wrong to keep watching when Bill’s not here to see it. 

Actually, Dipper could watch something better. Finding a show that doesn’t suck, or have bizarre, blasphemous content. Just some real, semi-wholesome entertainment that doesn’t raise more questions than answers.  

Distantly, he hears Bill still on the phone. Sounds like the conversation’s going to take a while. 

Dipper taps his fingers on the couch, creeping towards the remote. 

Said remote also has, like, a million buttons, so it takes a while to figure out which ones to press. One goes back to the previous episode. This one skips forward, another pauses. This one goes back in fifteen second intervals. 

Dipper leans over, checking - Bill, still well out of sight - then taps the volume button down until it’s nearly zero before hitting play again. 

“Make me,” Bill’s actor hisses again, before getting grabbed and - stuff.

Dipper sits forward in his seat, elbows on his thighs. Living with Bill means exposing himself to new ideas. Since he didn’t look before, now’s as good a time as any.

Though - Wow, Bill really wasn’t kidding. That is a lot of tongue. Even with the volume lowered it’s all wet and - it makes him feel odd, even though he knows it’s not sinful.  

Maybe he should replay it to check.

The fourth time around, he pauses his research to inspect it closer. Aha -That’s what was bothering him, those aren’t real abs. They’re enhanced with makeup. The lighting covers it a bit but when you really look, it’s totally obvious. The actor playing Bill has the worst version; the other guy just has a blotch near his -

“Son of a bitch.” Dipper says, standing up so fast the popcorn bowl dumps its contents on the floor. 

The image burns itself into his brain. Dots and lines, laid out on skin. A pattern Dipper could never forget if he wanted to.

Oh, Bill got lucky earlier. Real lucky. The only reason he got away with it is Dipper had his eyes covered. If he’d seen it, he would have had that evil demon bastard as pinned as that human in the show. 

Before he knows it he’s charging for the entryway. 

He can hear the jerk still talking on his phone, muted voice growing louder as Dipper storms in his direction. Unaware of how he’s been found out.

Dipper doesn’t have a plan in mind, which is the first thing that’s probably going to go wrong - but he’s got to do it, right now, before Bill can run off on some errand or head to some party, evading and avoiding questions like he always does. 

And before Dipper can lose the courage to confront him. A little confrontation might intrigue the guy - excite him, even - but the questions racing through Dipper’s mind aren’t going to be fun.

Too bad. Bill’s not going to wiggle his way out of this one.

He catches sight of Bill’s back, turned towards the door and totally not paying attention. Dipper storms up behind him, intending to catch him by the shoulder and whirl him around. See how Bill likes it when he-

The door swings open. Dipper skids to a halt, rocking back on his heels. 

That is. Many demons. Eyeballs peeking over the shoulder of something with spikes, another with wings too large to see around. A crowd clustered around the doorway.

Bill stuffs his phone back in his pocket, glaring at them all.

“You call five minutes notice a ‘heads up’? Then show your asses up here?” Contempt rings in Bill’s voice, low and furious. “You got a lot of nerve, and that’s no compliment.”

“It was urgent,” a voice burbles. Something soft and squidgy - oh, that’s where the eyes were, on stalks - it bubbles literally as it speaks. “The mistress-”

“Yeah yeah, blah blah, I’ve heard it all before. Cram it.” Bill stalks forward, leveling a look at the group that has them all scooting away. “Maybe your ‘mistress’ should think ahead next time. Or think at all before calling in a last-minute favor from me.”

Slowly, inch by inch, Dipper backs away. If he keeps really quiet he won’t catch anyone’s attention, they’re all too focused on Bill to mind one small human in the room. Hopefully. 

“You got the thing?” Bill snaps his fingers impatiently. There’s some confusion - demons tangling up and shuffling each other around until they manage to wrangle something out of the group. “Alright, hand it over.”

A briefcase is shoved into Bill’s eager grasp. He spends a moment examining it, then unlatches the clasps. Opening it the very, very slightest fraction of an inch - then rolling his eye, and slamming it shut again. 

There’s some brief conversation - partially demonic, and partially too inhuman for Dipper to parse. The slimiest demon tries slipping past Bill, into the penthouse - only to get caught by the eyestalk. Green smoke rises, hissing and squealing as Bill’s grasp heats to a burning flame.

“Ah ah ah! Nice try,” Bill chides. With a snap of his fingers, another door appears. Dipper recognizes this one; it leads to a sitting room. “We’ll have our little discussion elsewhere.”

With minor threats and moderate violence, the demon crowd is forced through the open doorway. A miniature parade of odd shapes and sizes, skittering around under Bill’s impatient gaze. He snaps his fingers and they all hurry up.

Dipper guesses he’s going to be preoccupied for a while. He wishes he’d asked more details about this meeting earlier, but neither of them thought it would happen today. 

As the last of the demons flutters into the sitting room, Bill turns around. Raising an eyebrow, looking amused. 

Dipper makes a belated attempt to duck back around the corner, even though he’s well and truly caught. Curiosity got the better of him, damn it.

“No worries, sapling, you take it easy out here! I won’t be long,” Bill says, voice bright. He waggles his fingers in Dipper’s direction. “Coupla hours at most to milk these suckers for every penny they got.”

Dipper nods, once. He stays silent. Bill’s beckoning him over, but no way is he getting close. He knows that look. As soon as he gets within arm’s reach, he’ll have his cheeks pinched or pulled into a noogie or something.

Bill makes a disappointed face as his nefarious plan is thwarted, then shrugs. The easy grin returns. “Fine, be that way.” He gives Dipper a sharp wave and a wink. “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t! Or do! I’m not a cop!”

The door shuts behind him with an ominous ‘click’. Dipper watches it for a while. No motion, no sound. No Bill popping back out, declaring that he’s already done and they can finish the drama. 

Guess they’re well and truly settled in for some weird, demonic business deal. For several hours. Or more. 

God, that’s frustrating. As much as Dipper wants answers, he can’t just barge into a room full of strangers and start demanding them. Especially when those questions might be kind of… personal. Bill probably wouldn’t be furious if it was just Dipper asking - but airing his dirty laundry in front of a crowd is a terrible idea on multiple fronts.

Damn it. And Dipper was this close to having him right where he wanted him, too.

He kicks the carpet a couple times. Then the baseboards. When the meeting hasn’t resolved two minutes later, Dipper stuffs his hands in his pockets, and slinks back over to the couch. 

It’s empty, with scattered cushions and a throw blanket disordered from their popcorn fight. He stares at the discarded bowl, and the cooled fabric. 

Settling back down isn’t nearly as appealing as it was five minutes ago. He’s not sure he can.

Dipper feels his hands clench into fists, then forces them to relax. He tucks them behind his back instead. 

Every time. Every freaking time. Just when he thinks he’s close to understanding, another curveball gets in his way. 

Pacing back and forth helps a little. There’s plenty of space in the living room to work out this restless energy. 

Whatever this - this thing is, it’s been going on for a while. Centuries of Bill picking up mortals, putting them through their paces, trying vainly to reach the object of his desire. A pivotal point of his unknown plan. 

And since he’s still going after it, every human before Dipper must have failed. 

Maybe Bill got distracted by dicking around. Maybe it really is too powerful to overcome. Or maybe his humans didn’t even know what it was, since they were in the company of a cagey, manipulative asshole.

Dipper could go back and dig through the books in the guest room - but if they didn’t know either, then that’ll be a wash. There’s the show, but it’s so full of bullshit that he doesn’t dare make too many guesses.

Even at the best of times Bill’s wrigglier than an eel, and a total stickler for details. If Dipper doesn’t check off all the boxes on the list, finding everything he was supposed to - then Bill’s going to tut and wag his finger instead of handing over the prize

Too many questions. Zero idea what it’s about. Only one person knows anything useful, and he’s a total dick about parceling out the facts.

Waiting for him to get back won’t take long. It’s barely any time at all, even on a human timescale.  Dipper can manage.

It’s just…

The idea of sitting around meekly, waiting for Bill to return. Hoping he’ll come bearing information because Dipper needs his stupid hand held through the mystery just feels - pathetic. 

Everybody keeps making decisions for Dipper that change his whole life. Nobody gives him a heads up on what they’re going to do. People taking charge, over and over and - he’s just so tired of letting things happen to him. 

If he just had one more thing. Something to prove that he’s right, not hearsay or guesses but physical evidence, that he could shove right in Bill’s dumb face - 

Dipper pauses in his rapid pacing. His head slowly turns. 

There is one place that he hasn’t fully mapped. 

Technically he’s been in there before. Even more technically, Bill’s said he’s allowed to enter. Dipper just hasn’t gone back since that first time since. Well.  It’s a little too personal. It felt weird to poke around.

But if there was a place to find the deepest, most powerful secrets of Bill Cipher - it would be in there.

The doorknob to Bill’s master bedroom is oddly warm for something metal. Like it has its own radiating heat, just like the demon who commands it. 

Dipper takes a calming breath, then lets it out as he turns the knob. 

The unlocked door opens easily, gliding without a sound. Funny, he almost thought it would have an ominous creak.

The carpet’s soft. It muffles his steps. Not that there’s anyone to hear him; Bill’s busy with his meeting several rooms and an unknown amount of actual space away. 

Still, Dipper feels a semi-giddy thrill run through him as he walks back in - intentionally, not fleeing - into the most private sanctum of his ‘god’. 

Centuries worth of humans. That could be dozens, even hundreds of people, depending on how fast Bill churns through them. And he loves his little trophies and knickknacks, having something to wave around while he brags.

If there is any proof, Bill will have kept it around.

Last time Dipper was here, it was during a panicked rush. He didn’t really look at the room, or check for anything that might explode or devour him - and then Bill was there, and it was. A lot. 

This time, he can really take in the place. Get a real sense of what might be going on. 

Speaking of - Dipper reaches out with his magical senses - 

Then winces. He eases back until the flare of magic is no longer blinding.

Everything in the bedroom is soaked in Bill-essence. Not surprising, really. All of it has marinated in god-demon magic for hell knows how many years, so thick it feels like it could be wiped up with a finger. 

For all that, it’s remarkably unthreatening. The sensation’s not welcoming, that word would be too strong - More like it could be dangerous, and deliberately choosing not to be.

“Right,” Dipper says aloud - checks over his shoulder on a paranoid impulse - and sighs when nothing happens. He claps his hands together. “This should be good.”

Time’s limited. Bill claimed it’d be a couple hours, but his company wasn’t invited. Depending on how annoyed he gets, that meeting could be over in seconds.

Better get to work. 

Circling the room, Dipper trails his palm over the wall, checking for cracks that would indicate a door or a safe. He brushes fingers over a shelf for secret switches, then rubs them together. Not even a hint of dust. 

There’s got to be somewhere he would hide a private journal, or… or a list of human-selecting criteria. Or like, an elaborate carving of every human he’s ever had, with all the information about their lives and when and why he grabbed them. Details.

Sure, there’s plenty of magic around. Tons of it. It’s in the absurd amount of Bill-shaped knicknacks, and the variety of miscellaneous thingamajigs. It’s in the paintings, in the tapestries. The little statues and trinkets and amulets displayed on the mantle. An extravagant collection if you’re generous, clutter if you’re not. 

Another person would consider this quite the find. Dipper’s stumbled over a dozen artifacts pulsing with power just lying around like cast-off socks. Finding what Bill likes the most or considers the best is nearly impossible to parse. 

Dipper figures it out in about two minutes. 

The only thing to glean from this horde? Is that Bill picks up too many souvenirs.

He scowls at one particularly annoying statuette, towering over a field of presumably conquered human-things. A crowd of bowing figures, prostrating before the much-larger Bill in a series of miniature lines. He checks over his shoulder, then flicks the statue’s golden hat off. 

On the one hand, it’s careless as hell. Leaving an amulet that rips off all your skin, lying half-under a chain that summons a horde of flying eyeballs, is a recipe for disaster. 

On the other hand, it’s… maybe a little clever. A type of misdirection. 

Sure, some artifacts have elaborate puzzle elements, and half of them likely contain mystical secrets - but Bill’s decorative habits are so busy, it covers up the fact that none of them are important. 

No, Bill’s real secrets aren’t so easily found. They’re held much, much closer to his chest. 

Putting them behind a puzzle wouldn’t work. Someone could solve that. Hiding them in plain sight is an option, but not particularly Bill’s style. Guarding them with a series of traps… Probably not in his bedroom, where he could accidentally set them off and ruin his suit. 

But then, that would be what people expect, wouldn’t it? That Bill would have a bookshelf that swings out into a secret room, or a seal protecting a hidden vault. A big scary door, with mystical, nearly impenetrable lock. 

…It’s all about misdirection.

Dipper drops the edge of the painting he was toying with, and heads to the dresser instead. 

Part of him can feel the weight of the all-seeing eyes. The portraits of his ‘god’, omnipresent and watching. Unblinking, unmoving. Always watching.

Dipper shuts that idea out of his mind. That’s not true and he knows it, for a fact. Bill doesn’t pay attention to even half his eyes on a good day. Most times it’s like a single digit percentage. 

Odds are he won’t find out. Besides, he’s too busy at the moment to care. What Bill doesn’t know can’t bother him, so it’s totally fine if Dipper rifles around in his underwear drawer. 

Dipper holds up a pair of boxers, frowning at the pattern. Tiny blue pine trees against the most garish yellow ever. Truly hideous.

This is both worse than the triangle ones, and more inexplicable than ones with the heart pattern. Hardly what he’d pictured underneath the suit. 

Not that he’s ever pictured it. That would be weird. But if he had, it would have been way cooler than this.

This search comes up with nothing, other than confusion at Bill’s fashion sense. Just clothes in the drawers, along with several unsheathed knives, a Bill-shaped keychain, and three glass eyeballs. Dipper does find a drawer with a lock set in the bottom, but he doesn’t have the key. Even then, opening it would just swing the bottom open and let all the pants fall out, so. No dice. 

The closet is a walk-in. Dipper stands in the entrance for a minute, staring at the lines of suits and shirts and clothes and cloth and - 

He shut the door again. Nope. That went back way too far. Diving in there might get him lost in the bespoke suit dimension.

Checking under the bed reveals… exactly the same stuff as last time. 

More dustbunnies than anything useful. There’s a magical ring that’s bent with the gem fallen out, weakly emitting a tiny skull-shaped cloud. One actual sock lies discarded under there, half-balled up from its removal. It has little blood-soaked knives on it. 

Dipper rubs at his eyes, staring up at the bedsprings. He sneezes, then wipes his nose on his sleeve. 

So far, so… nothing. Disappointing, and weird.

He crawls back out from under the bed. Brushing off the dust, he gets up and sets fists on his hips. 

Most of the obvious hiding places contain exactly what one would expect. Worst of all, it’s weird stuff. Just weird enough that he’s certain he’s not in a fake, illusory version of Bill’s bedroom, but the actual real place. It’s just less exciting than he’d thought it’d be. 

Is there… actually nothing here?

Not that the evidence doesn’t exist. It has to be somewhere. The idea of Bill not having any secrets is impossible. Like a duck not swimming, or most mammals not breathing; a necessary part of their nature. 

So it might actually be a different, hidden room. Figures. Getting to Bill’s secrets wouldn’t be as easy as opening his bedroom door. 

And if that’s the case - Dipper’s out of luck. Finding an access point would be hard enough with his limited experience. Bill’s secret horde would have a set of quantum puzzles and a spike trap, at minimum.

He sits down on the bed, sighing heavily - then blinks. 

Wow. The bed is incredibly nice. Just touching the sheets is a smooth, luxurious experience; Dipper presses his palm into those soft covers, stroking along the edge. Bouncing slightly on the mattress, just to test.

Not too firm. Not too soft. Just right. He could lie down for a moment if he wanted - and. And Bill said he could be in the bed, right? That was a while ago, but the invitation wasn’t taken back.

As he swings his legs up, one of them knocks into the bedside table. 

Hold on - he hasn’t checked that yet. 

Dipper hops, reluctantly, off that comfortable bed. One that has to be magical in its own right; he was nearly tempted to take a freakin’ nap. He’s lucky to have pulled himself out of it. 

The bedside table doesn’t have such dangers, thankfully. Its drawer opens easily, unlocked and smooth on its slides.

Sadly, there’s not much to look at. 

Dipper frowns at the contents. Some breath mints, a big bottle of clear liquid. A strange metal thing that’s bulbous on one end and tapered on the other. Picking it up shows it’s heavy and cool - but no apparent purpose, and zero magic. Maybe a weapon? Except it’s nowhere near big enough to be an efficient one. 

He has to pull the drawer out more to get the metal object out. It easily slides open another foot, which is - weird? And actually…

Another tug, and a few more inches confirms - this goes back further than physically possible. 

With a shrug, Dipper chucks the metal thing over his shoulder and onto the bed. By the time the drawer is out all of the way, it’s almost longer than he is tall.

Pushing things around to check, he finds snack wrappers - gross - and pieces of bone. A tiny skull, some weird statuette. A pair of handcuffs and a sleep mask, a tangle of metal wires and an elaborate candle, a weird ribbon-tied bundle of brown hair that he nervously scoots away with the back of his hand. With all the crap in here he’s half-worried he’ll feel something go ‘squish’ or skitter up his arm.

This is, more than anything, a junk drawer. Damn it. This was the last place he was going to check, and he came up empty-handed-

Then his knuckles bump against something, at the very far back. Shadowed by the overhang of the table above it, so far back it’s almost impossible to get a grip. His fingers slip twice before he gets a nail around one of the corners. A little wriggling. Then - Ha!

Dipper pulls the object out with more force than he needed. The move jolts the drawer open at an awkward angle, off its track. Whatever, he’ll fix it later. 

In his hands, there’s a picture frame.

Now this could be something. A personal photo, so close to the bed. Something that should be resting out in the open, until it was stashed away nearly out of reach. He turns it over in his hands.

A picture of Bill. What a surprise.

Nothing remarkable here. Just Bill himself, giving the camera a thumbs up with stupid sunglasses over his eyepatch, lounging on some white-sanded beach on a towel of his own image. 

Vacation photo. Great. Totally relevant. Totally not annoying, to get so close and yet so far.

“Jackass,” Dipper mutters, and pokes the stupid demon ‘god’ right in his stupid eye. The back of the photo frame presses against his fingers. 

Wait. Then - It’s not flush with the frame. There’s a gap, or - 

Dipper flips it over again. The only thing keeping the picture in is a tab, holding the backing in place. If he twists it, it comes off easily. 

And there is another photograph, hidden behind the first. Oldest trick in the book. 

Whatever Bill’s got to hide here, he sure as hell didn’t make it easy to find. Stuffed away in an innocuous place, not a hint of magic around it, right in his personal sanctum - this has to be something good. 

A quick flick retrieves it; Dipper flips the photo around, and -

Blinks, twice. He nearly does a double take. An illusion? No, it’s - he just checked for magic, and there isn’t any here. 

It’s just a picture of… Dipper.

And it has to be him, because- because it looks like him, and he’s in Bill’s home, wearing one of his favorite shirts as he lounges on the couch. In the photograph, he’s mid-yawn, arms drawn up as he stretches, loose sleeves falling down. 

For a moment he wonders if this was one of Bill’s other humans - it’d be one hell of a resemblance if so - but the jagged pink scar running down the left wrist is absolutely unmistakable. 

Dipper stares for a while. He’s not sure what to make of this.

Why is this stashed away?  It’d help if it was like, a weird picture, one with some clear and sinister intent. The weirdest thing about this is the fact that it exists. And that quiet fluttering noise that started a few seconds ago.

Something taps on one of Dipper’s shoes, and he glances down.  

There wasn’t just one picture. 

With the backing removed, with the way he’s holding it - dozens of photos pour out of the picture frame, fanning out in their fall; an impossible number of them, there’s no way they all could have fit- Goddamn it, it’s extradimensional.

“Shit,” Dipper says, and tries to clap the backing back on. He gets a papercut for his troubles and swears, sticking his finger in his mouth.

Some fumbling later, he slaps the frame onto the sheets face down. The flood ceases, though a few more puff out as a final insult and scatter on the sheets.

Dipper backs up cautiously, just in case there’s another surprise in store - and nearly slips as a picture glides across the carpet. A second trips him up as he tries to get his balance, he grabs the blankets to steady himself. 

How many fell out of the frame? Where have they all gone? It can’t be…

Dipper wheels around and stares in horror at the room. 

Photos have tumbled everywhere. Across the floor and onto the table and under the bed, some halfway across the freaking room like an extra-inconvenient game of 52 pickup. 

“Shit,” Dipper repeats. He nearly sits down on the sleep-enchanted bed again, then thinks better of it.

So much for being careful and subtle in his quest. Evidence of his spying has splattered across the entire goddamn room. He scoops up an armful, cursing as half of them flutter away like annoying butterflies. Another grab lets half the ones he gathered tumble back out of his grip.

Okay, this - this isn’t a disaster yet. This is solvable. Bill doesn’t need to know, it’ll be fine. He’ll never notice. As long as Dipper gathers these and gets them back into the frame. That shouldn’t be too hard to figure out. Depending on how long that meeting runs, he might even have time to-

A sound. Was that a footstep? Or just paranoia.

Clenching his teeth against another curse, Dipper snags another armful, then a second. For lack of anywhere else to put them, he dumps them on the bed. Put everything in one place first, then worry about - 

No, there was a sound. He hears another one now. The doorknob rattles, clicking as it turns.

Shit.

Dipper swipes his hands over the blankets, snagging what few photos he can reach and shoving them into the opened drawer. Then ramming the drawer shut with an all-too-loud thunk, clamping loose pictures in the gap, before belatedly realizing he left the metal thing out, too. He grabs it as the door starts opening, and now there’s no time left, he’s got to hide.

Suits rustle as he makes his dive into the closet. The door, pulled behind him as he made his rush to hide, clicks against the frame but doesn’t latch. 

No more noise from the main room. Too quiet, almost, the sound of his own quiet panting muffled by surrounding cloth.

That. Did not go well. Dipper grits his teeth, silently running a prayer against discovery in his mind - wait, no, calling out for the guy he’s trying to hide from is a terrible idea. 

Through the inch of open space, he can hear the faintest, lightest footstep. Not the thud of Bill’s shoes - but he might be still in the doorway. It’s hesitant because he’s looking across the mess, wondering what the hell just happened.

And what the hell was Dipper thinking? Permission to be in Bill’s room is nowhere near the same as permission to get his grubby fingers on every inch of Bill’s junk. Even that intrusion pales in comparison to putting a gallery’s worth of photos - ones Bill had deliberately hidden - practically on display like an impromptu art exhibition. 

Dipper takes slow, measured breaths. In, and out. 

All he can do now is wait. Stay quiet. Small, and hidden. Out of sight equals out of mind for most beings. 

It’s too much to hope that Bill will let this slide. But maybe he can come up with an excuse? Lying in a cool enough way might amuse Bill enough not to go full-on nuclear.

The closet doesn’t judge him. The closet is where nobody will yell at him, since suits can’t talk. He’s even ninety-percent sure Bill doesn’t have any that could; it’d take away from his own rambling time.

Dipper shuffles into the rack, pressing his face against the lapels of a jacket. It’s a little cool on his cheeks, smelling faintly of Bill’s aftershave. He sighs against the jacket, feeling the press of the other suits on his back, and almost, sort of, feels a bit calmer.

After a while, he remembers he’s clutching the metal thing tight, in both hands. It’s warmed remarkably fast against his flesh, and now he’s not sure what to do with it. Stick it in a suit pocket, maybe? It doesn’t fit in any of them, or his own for that matter. The damn thing’s too long and weirdly shaped to go in anywhere.

Another footstep. Soft, but close. Despite the danger, Dipper pokes his head out of the suit rack to get a better listen. 

The pacing is very soft and very rapid. Like multiple little feet instead of the standard two, tapping on the floor. Then on the bed, then - on the wall? 

Okay, it’d be one thing if Bill decided to tiptoe in on his hands and knees. Weird, but not that weird, considering. The erratic movement, also plausible. Who knows what the hell he gets up to when Dipper’s not watching him. 

It’s just… too quiet. Too furtive, really, like it’s trying hard not to make too much noise. Dipper’s all too familiar with the process.

And faintly, he can hear a strange, gentle buzzing. A quick, two-second burst that he almost mistakes for static. Only there’s no TV in here, and the pitch is off.. 

Dipper scoots a little closer to the door, ready to press his ear against it. The sound hits a deep, unpleasant memory, throwing him back to some of the more unsavory cult duties. Sacrifice cleanup. The messes always had a bunch of - but he’s never even seen a spider in Bill’s rooms. Much less some sort of giant fly. 

He turns to peek through the opened crack, just as the door gets thrown open wide. The demon - and it must be a demon, because no fly is five feet tall and has that huge a spike on its face - lets out a horrible, high-pitched shriek. Dipper’s own scream doesn’t match its pitch, but it’s a hell of a lot louder. 

Compound eyes reflect his face back at him like mirrors. A thin tonguelike proboscis runs along the sharp spike on its face, four arm-leg things reaching out towards him with odd spiked pads -

Dipper screams again, and hits it with the metal thing. 

The demon wobbles, looking dazed - before it can grab at him again, he whacks it a second time. Wings buzz fast, a high ear-splitting pitch, limbs grasping at his shirt and his face. They whip acros his arms and sting. Shoving it away feels so- gross, it is like a big bug, all shell and hair and ew.

Another grab; the pad lands on his collar and it almost digs into his flesh One of the spindly limbs cuts across his shirt with a tearing noise and he hits it harder, feeling something crunch unpleasantly under the blow. 

At some point the metal object in his hand started buzzing too; something in the sound has the demon reeling away in fear or disgust. And that is a chance to land another blow. A solid one, right in the eye. As it reels back Dipper follows the blow another, and a third, and again and again and again until stuff stops slashing at him and poking, and all that’s left is empty space in front of him.

Dipper realizes he's breathing hard. A quick patdown to check shows he’s sweating, and there’s some - ugh- goop on his hand. His shirt’s ripped, but there’s no blood. Everything’s intact.

Well. He’s intact. 

A thoroughly swatted demon lies on the carpet, carapace fractured in multiple places. One leg jerks up and twitches rapidly before going still.

Nausea roils in Dipper’s stomach. It’s not human gore, or even mammalian, but. God, that was gross. And it smells really, really bad. 

Something slams open a few feet away, and Dipper nearly jumps out of his skin. He looks up at the noise and - 

At Bill. 

A newly-manifested doorway has popped into existence, right in the middle of the room. Bill stands in the frame, teeth bared in a snarl, his arms braced he’s about to leap out. His eye lands right on Dipper, lit from inside with fire.

Then he blinks. 

Bill looks Dipper over, then down at the twitching bug demon. His eye glances over the room, then back to Dipper. Then down again, to the metal thing in his hand, still buzzing away. Dipper lets it drop from nerveless fingers, where it vibrates in a slow little circle on the floor. 

Several seconds pass without a snappy comment. Dipper can’t read the expression on Bill’s face.  It flickered through several before settling on blank.. 

“Well, well, well, well, well,” Bill says, clapping his hands together. An unsurprisingly swift recovery. Behind him in the sitting room, Dipper can see the other demons clustering around to catch a peek. “I can’t believe what you’ve been up to!”

Dipper’s heart plummets into his stomach. He clutches at his torn shirt. That smile looks delighted, but it always masks something else. 

He’s been caught. Caught right in the middle of things, red-handed. Guilty as hell in the eye of his god.  

What the fuck was he thinking. Digging where he shouldn’t, pushing when it’s wrong. Being allowed to be here has been more than Dipper could ever ask for, and what does he give in return? Blasphemy. Violation. He’s ruined everything because he wanted to know things he was never meant to, just like he always does. 

“Look, I can explain,” He babbles, backing up a step. Bill’s quicker by far, catching up before he can do more than hold up his arms. “Wait, I-”

A firm hand catches his shoulder; the other takes him by the cheek. Bill’s face is inches away, approaching fast, and he can’t help but see those sharp, sharp teeth in his open mouth, things that could bite and tear.

At the very last moment, his head is twisted to the side. Something soft and damp smacks him on the temple. 

“Mmmmwah!” Bill draws back with an exaggerated sound, cupping Dipper’s face in both hands. “Boy, you really walloped that guy! Not too shabby, if I do say so myself.”

“Whuh,” Dipper says, intelligently. 

Bill drops his grip and turns towards the demon on the floor, giving it a contemplative, almost professional look. He taps his foot for a moment, then nods, like an expert evaluating a journeyman’s craft.

Dipper touches his temple with two careful fingers. It’s a little damp. A warm, tingling feeling spreads out from where Bill- Where it happened. 

“Now, as for you-” Bill eyes the demon a little longer, then sets his hand on his hips. His smile changes to the sharp, unpleasant version. “Creeping around the place. Digging through my stuff. I don’t take kindly to peeping eyes that aren’t mine.” One sharply polished shoe lands a heavy kick in the vague area of the thing’s groin; it lets out a tinny scream. “And you made a huge goddamn mess while you were at it!”

Dipper glances over the scattered photos, open drawers, and the scattered knicknacks. Yes, someone certainly did.

Another kick lands on the demon with a crunch, and he winces.

“Gee, I wonder how you snuck your way in.” Bill says, immensely dry. He turns slightly towards that still-open doorway. The demons leaning in to watch start backing up fast. “Who coulda possibly helped with that! It’s a real friggin mystery for the ages!”

A mystery that Dipper had been wondering about, somewhere beneath the panic. The solution’s clear now that it’s gone.

Getting through Bill’s front door was all they needed. With such a big crowd of ‘small-timers’, as Bill would call them, he’d barely bother to track every one of them. The fly demon could have easily hitched a ride in a shrunken state; too small to be noticed until the time came to start snooping. With Bill busy elsewhere, it would have been a perfect opportunity - if Dipper hadn’t had the same idea. 

That it is a spy is a relief. Dipper had been a little worried. If this was the kind of bug that comes crawling in after cracking open a window, he’d have second thoughts about his living arrangements.

Bill makes an odd pointing gesture. The room tremble as it shifts - and a spike impales the demon in front of him, dangling its slender body in midair.

“I’ll handle those losers in a second,” He says, gesturing at the doorway. He taps a foot, humming briefly in thought. “But as for you…”

Dipper backs up further. He keeps Bill between him and the fly-creature while still trying to keep an eye on the action. 

Watching Bill about to enact his  vengeance is … Sure, it was spying. It didn’t do what was right, or even smart. But he already beat it up, and it’s looking really rough. Whatever Bill’s going to do is -

The insect-like demon flails on the spike, limbs writhing. A loud buzz starts up again, along with some odd clicking noises.

“Hm?” Bill cocks his head to one side. Then he glances back at Dipper. “Yeah, what about him?”

On second thought, Bill should finish this guy off quickly and violently. For spying, and for ruining Dipper’s shirt, and being a goddamn snitch.

“Oh, I see!” With a grin, Bill stalks closer. “You know what, you’re right! If I caught two spies in my place, they’d totally get the same treatment!”

Dipper’s heart leaps into his throat.

No, wait, that - he was so certain, this isn’t -

“But there’s a real big problem with your dumb little assumption.” Bill tuts, holding up one finger in a chiding wag. With a vicious grin, he seizes it by the spike on its face. “There’s only one of those around!”

Dipper’s heart restarts, though it’s pounding fast. He braces himself on one knee, starting to breathe again.

“See, you’re here uninvited.” Bill says, very calmly, even as he twists the head at an unnatural angle, a sound both crunchy and wet. The wings buzz so fast a breeze starts picking up. “And HE freakin’ LIVES HERE.”

Oh. 

There’s a thud as the severed head drops; Bill stomps on it with one perfect black shoe. Fragments of chitin flying, goo splatters in a comically yellow splat, making more of a mess than Dipper ever could. 

Then Bill scowls at the ruined carpet, his hands on his hips. Like he’d walked in on a pile of undone dishes instead of making the disaster himself.

And Dipper’s still standing there. Untouched. 

“There,” Bill says, with deep satisfaction. He wipes his hands off on his suit jacket - then frowns and takes the whole thing off, toweling bits of innards off his face. “What a moronic thing to try. Though it has been a grip since anyone made an attempt!.” Shrugging, he tosses the jacket away. “Guess they’re forgetting what happened to the last batch.”

Dipper nods, waiting for a moment. Then another. 

And he’s still there, untouched. Unharmed. Because - because he’s not a spy, or an interloper, or even an unwanted or unattended guest. Bill doesn’t see him that way. He thinks that - 

“So, I’m…” Dipper starts. Pauses, briefly, as Bill looks over his shoulder, then summons up the scraps of his courage. “I’m… not in trouble?”

“Sapling, you’re fine! Better than fine!” Bill says, dismissing the suggestion with a wave. “Hell, you could go through my freakin’ underwear drawer and I wouldn’t give a crap.” He pauses - then turns towards Dipper with a huge, knowing grin. “See anything you liked?”

“I’m-” Dipper freezes. All his muscles tense, and his face is hot. He touches his temple again; the tingling has started running down his neck. “Uh.”

Bill’s still staring at him. His smile widens another degree for every second it lasts. 

“I’m gonna go take a shower.” Dipper blurts, and starts backing up again.

That’s a good excuse. Reasonable. He’s got goop on him, he’s sweaty, and he would really rather avoid talking about anything right now. 

“Suit yourself!” Bill laces his fingers together, pushing his arms out in front of himself until the knuckles crack. He faces the door again, storming towards the meeting he’d recently abandoned. “I got some business to take care of.”

Dipper nods, once. He leaves the bedroom at a walk instead of a run, and hears the door shut behind him. 

He’s…

All his breath comes out in a rush. The wall is steady under his back as he leans on it, palm over his eyes.

Holy crap, he’s fine. He really is. It’s okay. 

This wasn’t a mistake. Everything was fine, he did make the right guess, and thank fuck for that. He is allowed in the bedroom. He could go anywhere he wants, and it’d be fine. More than fine. 

He also wasn’t lying about the shower. Not only does it buy him some space, this fly-blood stuff really stinks. 

Getting into the shower, he sets his face in the hot, pounding stream and tries to scrub off the goo. Water pressure. Hot water, and as much of it as he likes. Dipper can turn his back to the steady stream and feel it beating out the tension. 

He lets out a low groan, letting water run through his hair. For all that it’s bizarre and confusing, the sheer luxury of Bill’s home is downright amazing.

Though. It’s not just Bill’s home, is it. 

Dipper tilts his head out of the water. He watches droplets trickle down the shower walls.

Like. Obviously Bill’s the owner, he’s the ruler of his own domain. He controls the very fabric of space, changing the interior on a whim - 

But there’s another person around. One who’s not a guest, or merely staying over for business reasons. Not a sentient pet or a tool or one of his knicknacks, kept carefully for display.

Dipper is a whole entire person who gets to be here, in Bill’s home, because he lives here too.

Not all that long ago, he was worried he wouldn’t leave this place alive. Then he wondered whether he could leave at all. For a while he wondered if Bill would make him go, after he was done doing… whatever he wanted to do with Dipper. Yet another part was convinced that when they went back to the cult, that’d be it. Back to earth, out of the dreamscape and out of Bill’s hair. 

The last two no longer hold up. Because Dipper lives here, Bill said it himself, and by the nonchalant way he said it it’s been a done deal for a while. 

Bill didn’t even try to hide it. He didn’t think it was a surprise.

The concept’s so big that Dipper doesn’t know where to start.

Living here. With Bill. 

Dipper’s been places, though not many. Lived in places, if only a grand total of two. Early on, he thought that this one would be the same as the last. A man in charge, setting strict rules that must be followed. Forbidden from ever leaving. Punishment for not doing as he was told, or even thinking about not toeing the line. 

All his experience told him that was how things go. It was all he knew. An assumption that everywhere was going to be the same tune, played on a different instrument. 

His assumptions have never been right. 

Bill’s home is a different beast entirely.  

Bill could be in charge, but he doesn’t care to be. Not with Dipper. He hasn’t heard an order leave his mouth in ages. He’s free to leave the apartment if he wants, nothing’s going to stop him - though that’s a bad idea for other reasons, and Bill didn’t create them just keep Dipper in line. The worst punishment he’s gone through is a pinched cheek and some teasing, which is so minor that it almost goes into the negative. And he doesn’t have to worry about the breaking rules, because Bill doesn’t have any.

DIpper almost wishes he could blame it on, well. Demon realm. Strange culture. That things are topsy-turvy because everything else conspired to make it that way, rather than just. 

Like, he already knew the cult was shitty when he was still in it. Knowing how shitty it really was leaves him wondering what a normal life could have been like. A strange, what-if ache. 

Dipper had made plans to leave that awful place, knowing it meant he could never return. Even if there was anything he wanted to go back for, it wouldn’t be safe; Once he got out, that was going to be it. The whole world, or the conclave. One or the other. 

If he wants to step outside Bill’s home, he doesn’t need to abandon it.

They’ll make a visit to Earth, for one. Bill wants to go to the cult for revenge, and Earth seems to intrigue him. He’ll take Dipper along with him, not lock him away in his room, because he wouldn’t let him miss the ‘fun’. 

And - and if the show was right. Later, Dipper might get to visit Earth by himself, while Bill waits back at the Fearamid. 

It’s an idea that feels more dreamlike than anything else in this realm of sleep. That maybe, this could be a place he can leave and come back to. Somewhere he doesn’t have to choose. Going and seeing things he’s always wanted, then returning again, with someone happy to see him at the door. Maybe that’s what a home’s supposed to be.

Dipper lets his head thunk into the side of the shower, out of the stream. 

It’s weird to think a deadly demon realm ruled by an all-powerful madman is the safest Dipper’s felt in… forever, maybe. Which is another question entirely.

How the hell is he getting away with all of this?

It’s not just the snooping from earlier; he didn’t find much worth mentioning. Punching Bill in the goddamn face, though, that should have sent him into the lowest, most horrible dungeons. Not to mention the increasing amount of backtalk he’s giving a ‘god’. Complaining and questioning, even arguing, all excused. The defiance even delights Bill, because he’s a huge goddamn weirdo. 

Nobody else - nothing in the universe - could get away with all of that without retribution. Yet Dipper remains singularly, remarkably unharmed. The worst Bill’s ever done is scare him a little, and even that’s odd considering the whole ‘nightmare king’ deal he has going; Dipper should have had at least two heart attacks by now.

The birthmark. It must be that.

The one human in the show had it, and Dipper has it too. The other human companions… He didn’t see it on them, but it might have been in a different place? At minimum though, that’s two humans who Bill hung out with, wearing the same star-ridden shape.

But ow would Bill have known Dipper had it? He wasn’t watching him before they met - and by the time they did, the mark had been missing for ages. 

It could be magical. Maybe. Dipper’s never heard of ‘special birthmarks’ actually being a thing outside of bad fantasy novels. Then again, if it was, the magic could show up in his blood - exactly what was used in Bill’s summon. Which would…. Do a thing. He thinks.

Dipper rubs his face with the washcloth, willing his brain to start working better. 

Everything feels muddled and weird. Partly from exhaustion, partly from too much information with not enough connections.

Still, one thing is certain. Bill wasn’t lying, no matter what Dipper thought at the time. He is special. 

It’s… what, special… privilege? A secret power? Some strange field of influence, so specifically targeted it’s ridiculous, with no logical reason to exist? It’s…

Dipper gets out of the shower, and stares at himself in the mirror. He sticks his tongue out. The birthmark remains, brightly outlined on pink flesh.

Having more pieces to the puzzle helps. Sadly, he still doesn’t know the picture on the front of the box. 

Confronting Bill without having his thoughts in order would be worse than useless. He’ll dodge every guess, unless Dipper throws something really solid at him. He needs a strong offense to pry the secrets from between Bill’s stubborn, oddly soft lips. 

Screw it. There’s too much to go through, and he’s so, very tired. He can sort it out tomorrow. 

There’s no rush, anyway. Bill’s not going to kick him out. Dipper lives here.

Preparing for bed is the same ritual as always. Brush teeth, get changed. He can turn the lights on and off whenever he wants, not wait for someone else to do it at a mandated time, and now he keeps them dimmed. The bed’s already made in the guest room-

No, His room. Where he lives.

An emotion fills his chest, welling up until it feels like he could - Dipper grabs mini-Bill and holds it tight. 

Squishing the plush in his arms helps, though he has to hold it very hard. And this is his, too. Bill hasn’t tried to take it from him beyond starting to glare at it on occasion. He has so much that’s his.

The quilts settle cozily around him, comforting in their weight. The pillow soft,sinking under his head. Comfort, too; he has this now, and he’s never, ever going to take it for granted.

Problem being, when he shuts his eyes, there’s flashes of translucent wings. A high buzzing, from both the thing in his hand and the thing making crunching noises -

Dipper sits up again with a groan. Rubbing at his face, he kicks his legs over the edge of the bed. 

He knows what kind of night he’s in for. They’re infrequent enough lately that it doesn’t bother him. Nightmares in the nightmare realm, who could have guessed. Another round isn’t going to kill him. 

Yet somehow, the idea of lying down and watching that scene repeat in extra-gory detail, with the cult and god knows what else thrown in, feels like an extra shitty thing to go through right now.

He could get up and read for a while, try to get it out of his mind. Or get a glass of water, or journal down all the things he’s learned today. Hell, he could even bother Bill, who doesn’t ever seem to sleep and certainly wouldn’t mind the company. He’s almost always up for whatever Dipper suggests, no matter what it…

Huh. Now that’s an interesting thought. 

It might work, too. Being ‘special’ gives him some extra leverage. Stuff that Bill wouldn’t normally allow, he lets Dipper get away with handily. 

He could use that.

Dipper gets up, heading for the doorway. Still clutching mini-Bill, since he doesn’t expect to be up for long. He’ll consider this a test run. A little favor shouldn’t bother Bill much; it’ll barely take him a second. 

The door to his bedroom creaks as it opens. The living room’s still lit up, though dimmer than usual. Typical for the ‘evening’, or dream realm equivalent. He pushes it open further, stepping out into the light.

And there’s Bill. Sitting in the high-backed chair, facing the fireplace. 

He must have wrapped up his ‘business’ to his satisfaction, looking pleased with himself. He swirls a drink in his fingers that shifts color with every turn. The light from the fireplace illuminates the angles of his face, and the curve of his satisfied smirk. 

Dipper hesitantly clears his throat. Instantly Bill perks up, head swiveling in his direction like a compass needle to the north. 

“Hey there, sapling! What’s up?” Bill asks. He crosses one leg over the other, offering a quick wave. “Thought you were in for the evening.”

“No, not yet.” Dipper says. Already he’s awkward; asking for things and actually getting them still feels weird. “Soon, maybe. But I, uh. Wanted to ask you something first.”

Bill tilts his head back, finishing his drink in one long swig before tossing the glass aside. He gives Dipper a wink, and double finger guns. “Sure, go for it.” 

Okay, now. How to phrase this. Hopefully it’s not some kind of offensive ask, and - well, he’s pretty sure Bill’s not doing this on purpose. More like it’s an aura around him, or a knee-jerk reflex. Not always activated, but powerful when it is.

Bill’s still watching him curiously. Waiting for Dipper to speak, in an eerily patient silence. 

Here goes nothing. Dipper takes a deep breath.

“I don’t want to have bad dreams, so, uh,” He admits, though it comes out a little rough. He tugs his pajama shirt to straighten it.  “Could you…um. Not? For tonight?” 

A beat of pause. Bill blinks several times, then says, “That’s not me, kid.”

Oh for - Dipper levels a deeply unimpressed look. Usually Bill’s lies are better. “You’re the lord of nightmares.”

“Yeah, ‘cause I’m great at designing them, not the source of all of ‘em. You think I got time to get to every being in the multiverse?” Bill says. He catches sight of Dipper’s glare and frowns, lifting his hands to show his own empty palms. “Look, I’m not poking around in your subconscious. Whatdya want, a pinky swear?”

Dipper’s mouth moves, his tongue flicks. The words come out without permission. “Or maybe you’re just not that great.”

He shuts his mouth with a click, almost catching his tongue in the process.

He shouldn’t have said that. Shit, even if he is a little annoyed, he keeps crossing that damned line. Questioning Bill’s power. His capability, his very essence. Surely Bill won’t just ignore it again.

Except Bill does. If anything he looks more amused, starting to snicker as he rises from his seat.

And he does inflict a ‘punishment’. By getting super close and ruffling Dipper’s hair in a super annoying way. Dipper shakes it off, pulling back with a huff. Annoyed, but also - god, he really does have a lot of leeway. It’s insane.

“Hey! I’m definitely the best.” Bill chides, wagging a finger at him. “You just got your perspective wrong!  Elements exist on their own! Some guys are just great at manipulating ‘em. You’re not texting the king of fire every time you light a match, y’know?”

“Well,” Dipper says, then stops. When Bill puts it that way - 

Not omnipotent. Not omnipresent. Not literally the fabric of the mind itself, either; he should have thought of it before, except he keeps making dumb assumptions.

“Look. You want a custom, hand-delivered nightmare? One that’ll make someone scream their lungs up and claw their own eyes out? Then I’m the best in the biz!” Bill puffs out his chest, smiling wide - then shrugs, looking a little wry. “But any dreamer can have something nasty crawl outta their subconscious. That’s just nature.”

Dipper nods, once. Letting out a sigh, and rubbing at his eyes. 

Not the answer he was looking for - but an answer nonetheless. 

He’d guessed that Bill wasn’t inflicting them on purpose, sure. Infrequent and random fit ‘accidental’, there wasn’t any pattern he could find. Learning they’re not Bill’s fault at all is surprising - but nice.

…That also means every terrible dream Dipper has had came from his own stupid brain. Going around concocting terrible scenarios and waking him up in a sweat, purely au naturale. Super great. 

Simple solutions rarely exist, he guesses. 

“Sorry. Or- yeah.” He squirms out from under Bill’s pursuing hand, turning back towards the door. Another bad night isn’t the worst, he’ll live. “I’ll just-”

“Hey, hey! Don’t sweat it, sapling. When it comes to nightmares, you came to the right guy!” Bill interrupts before Dipper can make it more than a foot. He takes him by the shoulder, squeezing it firmly. “I got just the solution for ya. Sweet dreams only, one hundred percent guaranteed.”

Or maybe… Dipper glances back. But Bill just said he wasn’t doing this, so-

“Really. One hundred percent.” That’s an exaggeration if he’s ever heard one. Dipper folds his arms, giving Bill an arch look. “If you’re not making the nightmares, then that means you’re playing defense. You’re telling me you get every single one?”

“Always so cynical! Ninety-nine point nine repeating is mathematically identical.” Bill says primly, already steering Dipper around, pushing him in another direction. “And better odds than you’ll get anywhere else.”

Fine, that’s true enough. Dipper doesn’t have better options. Or any other ones. He might as well see where this leads. 

Bill hums behind him, bizarrely delighted by the weird request. Maybe because it’s weird. Maybe because he enjoys the process, somehow? Either way, he seems confident in his ability to pull this off -  but when doesn’t he?

Dipper gets maneuvered through the living room, over the carpet, and - into Bill’s master bedroom again. He glances over his shoulder briefly, just before the door shuts behind them. 

Wait, what are they doing here? 

The room’s just as clean as the first time he entered. There’s no demon corpse, no puddle of ichor or new freestanding door. No photos to be seen. At some point Bill must have tidied up -

Dipper closes his eyes against the mental image. Bill, seeing through all the evidence he left. Knowing it was Dipper who did it. He hasn’t said a word about it, but the guilt lingers.

He almost wishes Bill was mad about it. Or complaining about the mess, or making some wry comment to tease him about his shitty show of espionage. At least then he'd know what Bill is thinking.

Dwelling on his own guilt is interrupted by Bill pushing him forward, then halts suddenly. Leaving Dipper standing at the side of that immense, luxurious bed. 

Bill gives his shoulders another pat, then lifts up one edge of the sheets. “Hop on in, kid!” With a little flourishing bow, he flaps the covers. “Get yourself cozy.”

“Uh. Sure.” Dipper hesitates, but. Bill’s nudging him along, so he eventually pulls himself up into the bed and under the opened sheets. They drop on top of him before he’s even fully in the thing, while Bill perkily walks off to another part of the room. 

Just as he suspected. It is a great bed. 

As Dipper settles back, the mattress is firm but yielding. The pillows mold around his head. The blankets are cooler than the quilts in his own room, almost chilly - but not hard to get used to. 

It’s not hard to settle down, waiting for Bill.  For a ritual that involves dreams, a bed as the setting makes sense. Though part of him thought Bill would just, like. Snap his fingers, or something. Demon powers, or whatever. 

Even without any magic, Dipper’s tired enough to fall asleep right now. But that might mess with whatever Bill’s doing, so. He’ll just. Shut his eyes for a moment. 

“Hold tight for a sec! I’ll be with ya in a jiffy,” Bill says, vastly more upbeat than the situation calls for. “Lemme just slip into something more comfortable.”

Dipper’s eyes shoot open. He blinks up at the ceiling for a moment before sitting up. “What do yo-”

His words die before the sentence fully forms. He shuts his mouth slowly. Swallowing with a mouth that’s gone suddenly dry. 

Bill’s shirt lies in a silent pile on the floor by his feet. In the firelight, broad shoulders roll as he stretches, casting interesting lines of shadow on the planes of his back. 

Dipper drops back down, clutching the blankets like a lifeline. 

Okay, wait, maybe he has the wrong idea. Bill’s not, like. 

There's a clinking sound. A belt being undone, moving as it slides from its loops - then another as it falls. Followed by a zip, and more soft shuffling of cloth. 

Dipper dares a glance. Then instantly grabs one of the other pillows, pulling it over his face. 

Okay. Okay, this is - fine and, normal maybe, he doesn’t know how this ritual’s supposed to work. It’s not unheard of to be… unadorned when doing powerful magic, since any enchanted clothing could interfere. Bill’s just getting rid of them before he casts the spell. Everything’s going exactly as it should, and Dipper can throw out that newly-acquired mental picture as totally irrelevant and definitely rude. 

The pillow helps. He’s not tempted to look at all, but if he was, it completely blocks his view and most of the sound. 

He should be patient, and quiet, and wait for the spell. If it’s strong enough that Bill has to undress to cast it, this will take a while. Dipper has plenty of time to calm back down.

A motion in the covers, as something pulls them up. A deep, pleased sigh, much closer than before - then a large weight sinks the mattress slightly, scooting close with familiar, incorrigible confidence. 

Or, the thought appears in Dipper’s mind. There’s no spell. It’s a ward. Which would require the warder’s presence, right. Totally reasonable. 

So yes, of course. Bill joined Dipper in bed, just like he said he would like, less than two minutes ago. How that little fact got glossed over was - he stopped thinking straight for a while, that’s all. 

The cult didn’t leave Dipper with a huge range of experience, he knows that. Hates it, most days. 

But even in that limited scope, he knows some people sleep undressed. He’s seen his share of unfortunate cultists get woken up for morning sermon, only to see them entirely unprepared. That Bill shares that particular proclivity is… honestly not that big a surprise. 

“Ah, now that’s nice.” Bill says, voice slightly muffled. There’s a thump near Dipper’s head - probably Bill lying back himself. “You don’t look all that cozy, though. What gives?”

Dipper tells him he’s fine, but he doesn’t know how much of it gets through the down covering. 

There’s a pause, then a snort. The blankets shift as Bill adjusts them, drawing them further up. 

It really is fine. He’s doing great, he’s comfy, Bill’s going to help him with something and it didn’t seem like any kind of trick. All he has to do is deal with a perfectly normal sleeping habit from a not-at-all normal guy, who’s lying so close Dipper can feel him breathing. Inches away, with his bare skin warming the too-cool blankets.

He can’t hold the pillow this tight forever, though. It’s getting hard to breathe. 

Then a thump, just near Dipper’s head; Bill slammed a palm into the mattress. Leaning over him no doubt, with his body covering Dipper’s own. The picture is clear in his mind; he can almost feel the body looming over him. Something gently tugs the pillow, urging it away, and  - and Dipper shouldn’t resist, should he? Bill is after something, he’s demanding and forceful, he’ll do anything to get what he wants. 

The pillow leaves Dipper’s loose grip, pulled away by a firmer, stronger hand. He lets his arms drop to either side of his head. His breathing picks up.

And Bill is looming over him. Held up by one strong arm, looking amused. His eye bright and half-lidded, his smile sharp and dangerous on his face. Wearing a soft, loose t-shirt, reading ‘Hungry Zixlor’s Burger Joint’. 

Dipper reads the shirt, then tilts his head up for another angle. Below that, Bill’s put on the pine tree boxers.

“See? Way more comfy when you can actually aspirate.” Bill says, wiggling his eyebrows. 

“Yeah, sure. Whatever.” Dipper rolls onto his side, feeling a rush of annoyance. The hell, he was going to put the stupid pillow down. Bill didn’t have to get all over him just for that. 

He feels the bounce as Bill drops back down into bed, cackling to himself at another successful human-annoyance. Dipper’s half-tempted to smack him with the damn pillow, but who knows what that would lead to. 

Mini-Bill got lost in the covers somewhere along the line, so Dipper fishes around until he finds it and hugs it to his chest. He lets out a huff, squishing it tight. 

Without warning, an arm slips under Dipper’s neck. Another drapes over his waist. If asked later, Dipper will claim he didn’t make a single sound, much less anything undignified.

Instead, he holds very, very still. The arms around him are firm and strong. With the body behind him warming up everything, the blankets suddenly make sense. Bill’s practically a furnace. Anything more insulation and they'd combust.

“Good night, sleep tight,” Bill says, low and close. Dipper shivers, though he isn’t cold. “Don’t let the demons take too big a bite.” Teeth click sharply right next to his ear, and Dipper shivers.

God, of course he wouldn’t just- just let this be calm and nice, he’s Bill friggin’ Cipher. “Jerk,” Dipper mutters, and feels Bill’s chest shake with silent laughter. 

The arm around his waist squeezes him tighter, pressing his back fully against Bill’s chest. He can feel it move as he breathes, and the steady pulse of his heart. Between real Bill and mini-bill, they’re practically a set of nesting dolls. 

After that… nothing. Bill doesn't taunt anymore, and a few minutes later, Dipper hears him start to snore. Another annoying bit of Bill, and not annoying enough to distract him from everything else. He wishes it would. 

Even in sleep, Bill has the nerve to keep breathing and moving, instead of being a warm statue Dipper could ignore. His fingers trail in a mindless, unconscious pattern over Dipper’s stomach, making him bury his face in the pillow. Running through every chant he can remember silently, over and over, especially the ones that are mind-numbingly boring.

 None of these ideas are sinful. Bill himself has done more, and worse, than just having two or three concepts flicker through his brain, and Dipper knows it’s not wrong. He does, really. 

…Just because it’s not sinful doesn’t mean it’s not awkward. 

Dipper keeps his eyes shut. Trying to ignore the pounding of his own heart. There’s a bright, tingling energy in his body, spreading through every part of him, head to toe. It's... inconvenient. 

Bill wasn’t lying about preventing nightmares. He’s terribly effective. 

Dipper can’t have bad dreams if he doesn’t get any sleep.

[slytherinslut0]

since i have a lot of new followers from outside the fandom and this continues to be a constant topic of conversation i’d just like to remind everyone that im not writing about underage 16 year olds im writing about fully grown adult men who, in an alternate timeline (omg!), are college students.

(lorenzo zurzolo, benjamin wadsworth, christian coulson [who was literally 23 in COS might i add], louis partridge etc etc etc are all grown ass adults irl. that is how i see&write them.)

[sluttywonwoo]

Hoshi would literally never have his face out from between your legs. You’d be reading a book while he’s trying to get you to sit on his face and he’s just like “idc keep reading just sit”

fucking love this concept

“just keep reading your book, baby. pretend i’m not here.”

“it’s kind of hard to do that when you’re trying to squeeze yourself between my legs,” you mumble.

“i’m just getting comfortable,” soonyoung assures you (very unconvincingly). he gets your knees up and over his shoulders before resting his head against the inside of your thigh. “you can read aloud to me if you want. you know i love listening to your voice.”

it’s a set up and you know it but you take the bait anyway because soonyoung’s already working a hand up your shorts and you’re dying to feel his mouth on you.

you start to recite the words on the page, trying your best to keep your voice steady as soonyoung pulls your pajamas and panties to the side, spreads you open, and kisses your clit.

“you’re not wasting any time, huh?” you comment, shooting him a look he doesn’t see.

“i told you to pretend i’m not here,” he replies, muffled.

“you’re- fuck, you’re making it really difficult!”

“i’m barely doing anything!”

fucking liar.

you go back to reading even though the words are starting to bleed together on the page and you’re long past comprehending any of them.

“good job, baby,” he praises.

you whine and grab at his hair, whether to push his head away or pull him in closer, you’re not sure. he stays right where he is, though, not letting you overpower him despite your best efforts.

it isn’t long before you’re on the edge. you’re still reading, sort of, but you know you can’t take it much longer.

“feels so good, soonyoung,” you gasp. “i’m… i’m gonna cum.”

he stops abruptly, pulling a pathetic whine from you as he lift his head from in between your thighs.

“wha-”

“not until you finish that chapter.”

your mouth falls open in shock. soonyoung almost never denies you. “but there are still eleven pages left!”

he shrugs. “guess you’d better read fast.”

[vanrouchu]

stained colours

ace model au i fear

Being an ambassador for a makeup brand was something new for Ace. Despite being a highly sought-after talent in the industry, there was no denying that his refreshing vibe came from the fact that he was still fairly new when it came to modelling. Perhaps his vibe fit the brand’s image, or at least the new makeup line they were about to release in a few weeks. They asked Ace to create his interpretation of the slogan—Find your colour.

As the current ace of his agency, he was determined to create a look that would make the even camera’s shutters pause in awe. However, it was a little difficult to determine which way would be the best to go about it.

Find your colour.

That was a little subjective—Ace assumed that it would be the colour that suited him the most. In that case, it’s always been red. Although if it was the colour he liked the most, it would also be red. There’s not much of a variety when it comes to his preferences in colours. He needed to get a little bit more creative if he wanted to catch eyes.

He threw his head back and groaned, tired from all the thinking. He had a little less than 15 minutes to think of another concept he could go with than the same dull poses almost every model defaulted to whenever they modelled lipsticks. As his manager, he was relying on you to throw ideas at him—hoping that he could catch one of them and be able to use it.

“Hey, hey, hey! Don’t rub your face, you’ll smudge your makeup.” You sighed, running your hand over the plethora of lipstick tubes the brand gave for Ace to use. A lot of them were unopened; Ace already told you to put them aside after looking at the swatches alone. You grabbed the lipstick Ace was planning to use and stepped in front of him, finger hooking under his chin to tilt his head.

“Isn’t this supposed to be smudge-proof?” He grumbled, parting his mouth slightly to let you apply the lipstick on him. He did a good job not letting it show but there were more than a few thoughts running inside his head with every swipe and with every touch your finger left on his jaw.

“No. Maybe you’re thinking of another brand.” You let out a hum, letting go of his chin before taking a step away and putting the lipstick tube aside. You stared at his face, trying to tell if he looked his best or if there were some changes to be made—sometimes he made this step difficult by staring right back at you and it slowly became a staring contest.

You tilted your head, your hands coming back to the stash of lipsticks thrown to the side. “Are you sure you don’t want to make use of the other colours? There’s too much red… I think. Isn’t the slogan about finding your colour? It would make more sense if you used different ones.”

“What, like, making a gradient lip colour?” He grimaced. Clearly, he wasn’t even trying to comprehend your idea despite his desire to create a unique look. He crossed his arms and thought about it carefully, trying to think of ways he could see your suggestion working.

“No, silly. Not like that.” A chuckle escaped from your lips as you picked up a random shade, uncapping the tube before applying a stroke of colour to your lips. Ace stared at you curiously, trying to figure out what you were trying to do. Were you showcasing the colours for him? If that was the case, then there was really no need to do that—

“Do you mind if I kiss you?”

That single question made him pause. Cutting off any sort of action or thought he was doing at the moment.

“Excuse me?”

You threw your hands up immediately, trying to clarify your words. “Not on your lips! I just had an idea about the sort of look you could do, so I might use the rest of your face.”

That made him nervous. It wasn’t as if he didn’t have faith in his reliable manager, it was just the fact that you had to be in close contact to pull that off—your lips on the skin of his face? He had to calm himself down, urging him to keep his act together. He can’t make it obvious that he was more than a little flustered.

“Go ahead.” He muttered, following up with a louder-than-he-liked “It better look good though!”

With his approval, you stepped closer and wrapped your fingers around his jaw, whispering a small “close your eyes” before pressing your coloured lips against his skin—leaving lipstick marks. Pulling away, you took a step back to take a look at your work before smiling.

“This colour suits you. Let's try other colours too, shall we?”

Before he realized, he was stained with different colours. One on his forehead, one on his cheek, one on his jaw, one his neck, and one on the corner of his lips—barely a kiss. Each one was a different shade, but Ace found himself liking the one near his lips the most. Perhaps that was the color the slogan was talking about. Maybe he found it.

Walking out like that raised some questions from the staff, mostly wondering who did the lipstick marks on him but Ace just brushed them aside. He was far too embarrassed to give a proper answer; he hoped that the flustered look on his face wasn't too visible on the photos but the final results said otherwise.

But in the end, he got what he wanted. A unique look with a little bonus—he wanted to make it a habit to ask for your help if it meant he'll get little treats in between.

[se1f]

Hiiiii bb, it’s actually a “success story” lmao. so in the previous ask i was talking abt a project and it weighs around 70% of my grades, it’s super imp. i had a deadline of 30th dec, tbh i was very lazy and didn’t do much (ik ☠️). so this week i was slightly anxious BC they actually gave an extension i.e 30th dec. i got that extension like i deep down knew they extend and they did, it was 30tg dec BUT then there’s like 3/4 days left, i was slightly anxious (usually i’d be dying by now). but then i was like oh this problem isn’t mine. the deadline doesn’t exist, it only exists bc i’m making it more real by being aware. that doesn’t lack anything, and everything is instant, knowing this i was very laid back 😭💀. Tbh i was just thinking (my mind is never quiet) i just realized i’m internalizing failure is an option, then i just said to myself, failure is an illusion but i’m just going to remove that. Failure doesn’t exist for me. then i was like every single time, when i was faced w difficult situation, everything will be alright. ngl i was like if i don’t submit, i’d have to repeat the sem. and that’s scary af, but then i’m like it’s an illusion who cares🧍🏻‍♀️, but then i didn’t want that as an option☠️. i literally went on w the day like it’s going to fine, i’m lucky as hell. I KID U NOT i get a notification the submission date is 30tg dec. for some reason i was really calm, bc i detached my self from the whole issue, like it’s all an illusion including the problem, the deadline. In the noon, i get another notification, it literally says “GOOD NEWS, THE DATE HAS BEEN EXTENDED TO 10th JAN” 😭💀. istg i wasn’t over the moon or anything, i just smiled. ITS CRAZYYYY, ND is wayyy better than loa. where they keep telling persisting, and it’s just exhausting. it’s crazy WHEN u feel like this whole thing is like a game, and that can decide what this illusion wants.

i rambled a lot 👩🏻. but to everyone who’s like why aren’t the desires materializing?? pause, ND you’re not doing anything to get. it’s like you know you breathe? do u check or like constantly are believing that you breathe? nope, you just are aware, aware of reading thsi rn, aware of comprehending this. the most freeing thing is, none of this is real, it’s all illusion, concepts don’t exist. everything is instant for that. the moment you’re aware of xyz or your let’s say desired life, it’s already there. don’t go asking where? i don’t see it? it’s not real etc. it’s bc you still believe you’re a limited human experiencing through the 5 senses. i’d like to recommend everyone to make their own opinion of ND, bc at the end of the day, you’re the game maker not the player.

THANK YOUUU, it’s like i’ve gained the cheat code to life rn, it’s so relieving that, everything is instant and nothing is real, it’s all illusion, hence we have all possibilities to choose a whole another illusion.

~ 👿

heyyy 👿 anon!! omgg please this was so entertaining to read, thank you so much for not only sharing your experience, but updating us on what happened! having a project be 70% of your grade is so crazy, i would've also been feeling anxious! just as you seemingly extended the due date, i am sure with your dedication you got an A++!! i couldn't have put it any more perfect than you have :) there is no need to thank me, anon! this was all you, sun beam <33 i hope to hear from you again, have a fantastic week!

[captainfightingflower]

In regards to Jackbox Games content, i have thought out:

Hundreds of fanfictions

Thousands of shitposts

An entire haunted house

An animated TV Show with a Jellyvision-themed spin-off

A bunch of intricate cosplans for potential cosplays of characters, including fursuits

Several storyboarded music videos, both live action & animated

A bunch of character analysis

Pornography, and lots of it

At least 5 screenplays

A ton of animation memes

Plushie patterns and concepts for possible merchandise

VTuber & PNGTuber models that are free to use, free to modify

An entire Party Pack

A bunch of quality of life mods for the packs

A good bit of AUs, most public domain

An unfathomable amount of fanart

And a special something just for me

All at varying levels of completion that i just haven’t posted due to several complicated reasons, mostly regarding my own deteriorating mental health.

Discussions about said mental health are below “Keep reading”, TW for all who enter, as it really does get pretty grim. You don’t need to keep reading if you don’t feel comfortable doing so. And i really do mean it.

The reason i’m not posting about any of these isn’t because i don’t like the series, or i’m too busy complaining about the new stuff. It’s because i have a severe mental health problem that’s not only resulting in me not getting the motivation to upload, continue, or even realize what i wanna do, but also because i’m overly paranoid that nobody is going to even care, or worse: somehow spin my content into something wholly negative to get people to rally against me.

I’m happy when other people are happy, but how can i make other people happy when i’m not even allowed to feel happy in my own household? Let alone the fact that this fandom has long since alienated me for reasons that no longer apply. The reason i’m not being positive is because i’m not happy with myself, The Jackbox Party Pack 10 certainly isn’t helping, but it’s not the only reason i’m not laughing and goofing off with a franchise i still really love despite how frustratingly unsustainable it’s constantly forcing itself to be.

I know i shouldn’t let the perspectives of others influence my decisions, but when my own safety has gotten threatened, to the point of getting death threats, especially at the age i got them, can you fully blame me for being a little negative and not doing what i love? When everything i do is perceived with malice instead of passion, it gets a little hard to stay passionate. My home life isn’t a healthy one, and the majority of my elementary years just felt like i was getting bullied by my own teachers. High school certainly helped with how nice and understanding everyone was to me and my struggles, but my life has been filled with a bunch of horrible experiences that not everyone, not even my own family, is aware of, or fully comprehends the scope. I’m trying to get a therapist, but it’s very difficult to do so.

I still wanna make people happy, ever since i first started going online, that’s why i started creating to begin with. I don’t like drama, i don’t like creating drama, it stresses me out and i just wanna hold hands and plan happy sunshine picnics with the people i care about. I’m an optimist in spirit, but a realist in nature and a pessimist in practice. Maybe when i’m able to move out, i’ll be able to finally start my dreams of just making content to make people happy, and in turn, making me happy with their joy. It sounds self-destructive, and maybe a bit childish, but that’s truly what makes me happy: giving. But i need to get help before i can really start to give.

[anamericangirl]

I care for people with dementia for a living and you’ve deeply misunderstood the test. It’s meant to get progressively harder for people with disordered brains, not neurotypical folks. There’s a reason one of the tests is to simply draw a clock; it allows us to track the degradation of the brain. The fact that you suggest anyone who objects to your misunderstanding has disordered thinking is quite rude, and it doesn’t change the fact that you are wrong. Passing that test is not a brag.

I haven’t deeply misunderstood the test lol but you’ve deeply misunderstood my very simple comments that really shouldn’t be that hard for you to understand. I’m not suggesting people who object to what I said have disordered thinking, I’m suggesting that of people, such as yourself, who, for some reason, are having trouble comprehending what I’m saying.

The test is simple to pass if you are not experiencing cognitive decline but that does not mean the questions at the end are not more challenging than the ones at the beginning. That does not mean they are hard questions, it just means they present more of a challenge. Like, since you can’t understand that this is not saying the test is hard and is difficult at the end, let me give you a little example and see if that helps you.

Is it objectively more of a challenge, even if you do not have a disordered brain, to accurately recall something you heard 10 minutes ago or 10 seconds ago? Saying it’s more challenging to remember something from 10 minutes ago does not mean it’s actually a difficult thing to do and I never indicated it’s worth bragging about.

Let me spell it out very clearly for you if you are still having trouble understanding for some reason: I AM NOT SAYING THE TEST IS HARD. I KNOW IT IS NOT INTENDED TO BE A DIFFICULT TEST.

So once you are able to understand that very simple concept, which has been my point all along, then I will take your criticisms more seriously.

But anyway, I’ll go ahead and tell the creator of the test that he’s wrong and the test isn’t designed to have more challenging (although easy to answer if you don’t have a disordered brain - since apparently I have to say that since none of you are smart enough to understand literally anything unless it’s spelled out for you.) questions at the end than it does at the beginning.

[radical-revolution]

OUR LIMITED LOGIC

Siddhartha was right to think that teaching would be no easy task. In a world that is driven by greed, pride, and materialism, even teaching basic principles such as love, compassion, and philanthropy is very difficult, let alone the ultimate truth of emptiness.

We are stuck with our short-term thinking and bound by practicality. For us, something must be tangible and immediately useful in order to be worth our investment of time and energy.

By those criteria, emptiness as defined by Buddha seems completely useless. We might think, What is the benefit of contemplating the impermanence and emptiness of the phenomenal world? How can emptiness be profitable?

With our limited rationale, we have a set definition of what makes sense and what is meaningful — and emptiness goes beyond that limit. It is as if the idea of “emptiness” cannot fit inside our heads.

This is because the human mind operates on one inadequate system of logic even though there are countless other systems of logic available to us.

We operate as if thousands of years of history have preceded this moment, and if someone were to tell us that the entirety of human evolution took place in the duration of a sip of coffee going down the throat, we would not be able to comprehend.

Similarly, when we read in Buddhist teachings that one day in hell is equal to five hundred years, we think that these religious figures are just trying to frighten us into submission. But imagine a week’s holiday with your best beloved — it goes like the snap of the fingers. On the other hand, one night in prison with a rowdy rapist seems to last forever. Perceived in this way, our concept of time might start to seem not so stable.

Some of us may permit a little bit of the unknown into our system of thinking, allowing some space for the possibilities of clairvoyance, intuition, ghosts, soul mates, and so on, but for the most part we rely on black-and-white, scientifically based logic.

A small handful of so-called gifted people might have the courage or the skill to go beyond convention, and as long as their view isn’t too outrageous, they might be able to pass themselves off as artists such as Salvador Dalí.

There are also a few celebrated yogis who deliberately go just a little bit beyond what’s conventionally accepted and are venerated as “divine madmen.” But if you really go too far beyond the accepted boundary, if you completely buy into emptiness, people may well think that you are abnormal, crazy, and irrational.

But Siddhartha was not irrational. He was merely asserting that conventional, rational thinking is limited. We cannot, or will not, comprehend that which is beyond our own comfort zone. It is much more functional to work with the linear concept of “yesterday, today, and tomorrow” than to say “time is relative.”

We are not programmed to think, I can fit into that yak horn without changing my size or shape. We cannot break our concepts of “small” and “big.” Instead we continuously confine ourselves with our safe and narrow perspectives that have been handed down for generations.

When these perspectives are examined, however, they don’t hold up. For example, the concept of linear time upon which this world relies so heavily does not account for the fact that time has no real beginning and no end.

Using this rationale, which is imprecise at best, we measure or label things as “truly existing.” Function, continuity, and consensus play a major part in our process of validation. We think that if something has a function — for example, your hand seems to function by holding this book — then it must exist in a permanent, ultimate, valid sense. A picture of a hand doesn’t function in the same way, so we know it isn’t really a hand. Similarly, if something seems to have a continuous quality — for example if we saw a mountain yesterday and it is there today — we feel confident that it is “real” and will be there tomorrow and the next day. And when other people confirm that they see the same things we see, we are even more certain that these things are truly existing.

Of course, we don’t walk around consciously rationalizing, confirming, and labeling the true existence of things — this is a truly existing book in my truly existing hands — but subconsciously we operate in the confidence that the world solidly exists, and this affects how we think and feel every moment of the day.

Only on rare occasions, when we look in the mirror or at a mirage, do we appreciate that some things are mere appearances. There is no flesh and blood in the mirror, there is no water in the mirage. We “know” that these mirror images are not real, that they are empty of inherently existing nature. This kind of understanding can take us much further, but we only go as far as our rational mind allows.

When presented with the concept of a man fitting inside of a yak’s horn without a change in size, we have a few choices: We can be “rational” and refute the story by saying that it is simply not possible. Or we can apply some kind of mystic belief in sorcery or blind devotion and say, Oh yes, Milarepa was such a great yogi, of course he could do this and even more.

Either way our view is distorted, because denying is a form of underestimating, and blind faith is a form of overestimating.

Dzongsar Jamyang Khyentse - What Makes You Not a Buddhist -

[f1]

Wolff says 'sails are set' as Mercedes shift focus to 2024 car and plot route to 'winning titles again'

Toto Wolff insists there is “light at the end of the tunnel” for Mercedes in this frustrating season for the Silver Arrows – and has revealed the team's focus is now switching to next year's car. After eight consecutive constructors’ titles from 2014 to 2021, Mercedes took a step back in 2022, struggling to get to grips with the ground effect technical regulations introduced into the sport at the beginning of last year, and falling behind Red Bull and Ferrari. WATCH: Hamilton vs Alonso, Ocon vs Leclerc, and multi-car scraps – The top 10 battles of 2023 so far But after a stronger end to the 2022 campaign – which saw George Russell win the Sao Paulo Grand Prix – expectations were raised that Mercedes could catapult themselves back into championship contention heading into 2023. However, after a slow start to the year Mercedes revamped the W14, ditching their 'zero sidepod' concept for a more conventional design. This has helped push them up the order with the Silver Arrows now second in the championship. And Wolff says the entire team is now laser-focused on finding their title-winning form as soon as possible. “Our season didn’t really start well in Bahrain, but I think over the last races we’ve been able to comprehend the car a little bit better," he said in his mid-season review. Wolff reflected on Mercedes' difficult start to the 2023 season in Bahrain “And the race for P2 is really tight between Aston Martin, Ferrari, McLaren, and ourselves. Now it’s really focusing on what we need to do in order to be winning championships again.” Wolff continued: “Positives are we clearly see some development routes that function. We understand where we need to add performance. READ MORE: Shovlin says he has 'no doubt' Russell will win a championship provided Mercedes can give him the car “It’s a frustrating process because it takes time to change the car fundamentally, the concept and aerodynamics. But there is definitely light at the end of the tunnel.” Asked what the team could do better with the car, Wolff answered: “Main areas of improvement is just about giving the drivers a more reliable car. Wolff says Mercedes are looking forward to optimising the W14 having turned their attentions to 2024 “It’s not about absolute amount of downforce but it’s just for them to know the car is going to be stable when they come into the corner, which isn’t the case at the moment.” Looking ahead to the second half of the year, which is set to kick off in Zandvoort with the Dutch Grand Prix on August 25-27, Wolff explained that Mercedes are looking forward to optimising the performance of the W14, with attentions already turning to their 2024 car. READ MORE: Our writers look back on 2023 so far and predict what's to come in the second half of the season “The sails are set for 2024,” Wolff explained. “Now with the car development almost stopped for this year, I find it good because there is so much, we can optimise on the current car without looking too much into upgrades. “Let’s see how we can really get it into more of a sweet spot while gaining more understanding for next year.” via Formula 1 News https://www.formula1.com

[karendlipton23]

DIY Fairy House Night Light #shorts #fairy #diycrafts #supersimplecrafts

How to Teach a Kid to Read – Easily Teach Your Kids to Read

|

How to Teach a Kid to Read – Easily Teach Your Kids to Read

Teaching a kid to read can be a daunting task. But thankfully, there are steps that parents can take to make the process easier. These steps include teaching letter sounds, practicing phonemic awareness, and reading aloud. By combining these skills into a fun and engaging program, you can help your child start to read.

A good way to teach a kid to read is to let them choose their own books. In addition to building their reading skills, they will also develop an early love of reading. It’s best to keep them interested in what they are reading by asking them questions about the text, giving them a little context, and allowing them to make sense of the words they are reading.

Reading isn’t a natural activity, but it can be a lot of fun if you make the process enjoyable. During the first years of school, children develop language and cognitive skills. They learn concepts such as left/right and front/back. When they are able to understand and use these concepts, they are better prepared to read and comprehend new texts.

Kids can begin to read independently after the teacher has read a book. They can also figure out words from the sequence of a story. However, they don’t always do this right away. That’s why experts encourage kids to learn the basics of decoding words and the logical connections between letters and sounds.

Some experts recommend the whole word method, while others advocate phonics. Both are viable approaches to helping your child learn to read, and both can be used by preschoolers and older children. The whole word approach is more practical if you have a print-rich environment. If you don’t, you’ll have to rely on games, songs, and visual cues to help your child become a more fluent reader.

Phonics teaches students to read by teaching them to associate letters with their sound. You can introduce this concept using flashcards, or by singing songs that teach the alphabet and the different letter sounds. Many schools have programs that have kids write the letters in sand or clay.

Teaching a kid to read may seem complicated at first, but once you start, you’ll find that it’s really not that difficult. Even children with disabilities can learn to read with the right instruction. Developing a child’s early language and comprehension skills is an important part of the process, and research indicates that it can be an effective way to help children gain an early understanding of reading.

Learning to read is a fun and rewarding experience. Parents should make the learning process as enjoyable as possible for their children. Taking time to read to them every day will help to build their knowledge and interest in reading. Additionally, it will develop vocabulary and a sense of wonder.

Reading is one of the most important things you can do for your child. Make sure you spend at least twenty minutes a day teaching basic skills.

Via https://www.howtoteachakidtoread.com/diy-fairy-house-night-light-shorts-fairy-diycrafts-supersimplecrafts/

source https://howtoteachakidtoread2.weebly.com/blog/diy-fairy-house-night-light-shorts-fairy-diycrafts-supersimplecrafts

[howtoteachakidtoread2]

DIY Fairy House Night Light #shorts #fairy #diycrafts #supersimplecrafts

How to Teach a Kid to Read – Easily Teach Your Kids to Read

|

How to Teach a Kid to Read – Easily Teach Your Kids to Read

Teaching a kid to read can be a daunting task. But thankfully, there are steps that parents can take to make the process easier. These steps include teaching letter sounds, practicing phonemic awareness, and reading aloud. By combining these skills into a fun and engaging program, you can help your child start to read.

A good way to teach a kid to read is to let them choose their own books. In addition to building their reading skills, they will also develop an early love of reading. It’s best to keep them interested in what they are reading by asking them questions about the text, giving them a little context, and allowing them to make sense of the words they are reading.

Reading isn’t a natural activity, but it can be a lot of fun if you make the process enjoyable. During the first years of school, children develop language and cognitive skills. They learn concepts such as left/right and front/back. When they are able to understand and use these concepts, they are better prepared to read and comprehend new texts.

Kids can begin to read independently after the teacher has read a book. They can also figure out words from the sequence of a story. However, they don’t always do this right away. That’s why experts encourage kids to learn the basics of decoding words and the logical connections between letters and sounds.

Some experts recommend the whole word method, while others advocate phonics. Both are viable approaches to helping your child learn to read, and both can be used by preschoolers and older children. The whole word approach is more practical if you have a print-rich environment. If you don’t, you’ll have to rely on games, songs, and visual cues to help your child become a more fluent reader.

Phonics teaches students to read by teaching them to associate letters with their sound. You can introduce this concept using flashcards, or by singing songs that teach the alphabet and the different letter sounds. Many schools have programs that have kids write the letters in sand or clay.

Teaching a kid to read may seem complicated at first, but once you start, you’ll find that it’s really not that difficult. Even children with disabilities can learn to read with the right instruction. Developing a child’s early language and comprehension skills is an important part of the process, and research indicates that it can be an effective way to help children gain an early understanding of reading.

Learning to read is a fun and rewarding experience. Parents should make the learning process as enjoyable as possible for their children. Taking time to read to them every day will help to build their knowledge and interest in reading. Additionally, it will develop vocabulary and a sense of wonder.

Reading is one of the most important things you can do for your child. Make sure you spend at least twenty minutes a day teaching basic skills.

source https://www.howtoteachakidtoread.com/diy-fairy-house-night-light-shorts-fairy-diycrafts-supersimplecrafts/

[aaron78341-blog]

Tips for Working with a Leading A Level Chemistry Tuition Center

A Level Chemistry is quite challenging. It is undoubtedly one of the most difficult JC subjects. And in the event that it’s not approached with the appropriate care, it very well might be traumatizing for a student. The difficulty of the topic blended in with the significance of taking A level Chemistry tuition. Acing H2 Chemistry is impossible because it satisfies each science-related major's necessities.

 However, it is quite attainable; achievement would really change your life! Regardless of whether you probably won't enjoy A Level Chemistry tuition, it isn't difficult with the appropriate instruction.

 This is a necessary reality to master anything or any topic truly. After providing work examples in the H2 Chemistry tuition sessions, the tutor creates practice problems that develop students' understanding of the subject matter. These problems range from basic ones that help lay a solid foundation to more challenging ones that call for inside and out analysis.

 Most importantly, our A Level Chemistry tuition can explain these difficult topics in person exhaustively, quickly survey relevant ideas, and answer any questions you may have along the process. Despite the fact that H2 Chemistry tuition sessions take place in group classes, time is always saved to allow for one-on-one clarifications and follow-ups as required.

 One of the top JC Chemistry tuition facilities is Making Sense. A Level chemistry tuition is among the lowest distinction rates. However, students have routinely outperformed the national average and the ringer bend. Tutors actually trained messes around with various learning necessities throughout the years.

 More emphasis is placed on comprehending and applying logical ideas and concepts in A Level Chemistry. They aim to teach students sophisticated approaches. This is so they can understand the importance of developing skills and long-term values in an industry that is becoming more technological.

 The A-level exam is the hardest test that each student should pass. This final test results from the last 12 years of hard effort. A distinction mark in Chemistry is expected to enroll in top medication, pharmacy, and dentistry programs. In truth, enrolling in the medical program is possible without taking chemistry.

 At the A levels, redundant learning may only be so useful. The A Level H2 Chemistry Tuition center you choose will help you draw one stage nearer to realizing your career aspirations in the logical field.

[maloneydeleuran81]

Why Methods To Watch Satellite Tv On Pc

There are hundreds of internet TV software available online. Some of these software offer around 1000 to 10,000 Television stations from around the world. It's however a big gamble select a good website. Most of these softwares don't good quality picture and sound and will be simply not worth difficult earned money. I'm not kidding. Each type of sites exist in internet. Nevertheless they are very less in number. Hence its a challenging job inside your out these kinds of domains. Even if you search browsing engines as "Free PSP games downloads", "Free PSP downloads", "Downloadable PSP games", "Download Free PSP games", etc put be able to find transaction you generate as the search engines will give away millions of results. Let's review some logs. This happens to be a log originating from a client. The columns are labeled consequently. wirecast pro crack has been cleared up to make it simpler to explain and comprehend. If you would really like to watch it on your computer, going to suggest crack2pc buy your software from a great merchant. Happen to be a regarding them available and the software packages range in price from much less than as $40 up to $99. driver reviver crack to think about about it, that's not really much shell out and protect your computer from potential harm at the same evening. Don't get sucked into creating of free satellite TV downloads because that's playing Russian Roulette with your. Free television online reviews also advice you on easy installation process. Most of the packages have a simple installation and therefore usually available within minutes of the download. In which because the softwares are packaged as digital files which can be downloaded each and every other software you have installed forward. Spin like Stewart: You most likely are an expert in your field, however the rest of individuals aren't, nor do we must be. Here's where home furniture take a lesson from comic genius Jon Stewart. Rush Limbaugh may not enjoy Stewart's humor, having said that i doubt he thinks Stewart is mindless. However, if you analyze Jon Stewart's language, you'll visualize it isn't complex at almost. It's not the words he uses, it's the way he puts them together. Among coolutils total doc converter crack for his huge popularity tends to be that he takes complex things and presents them web site that the common Joe or Jane (or pot-smoking college kid) can understand. You don't need to like Jon Stewart or match him, a person can apply his techniques to your own subject. This can be an enormously successful software tool you make use of to make arcade style games. All the details are drag and drop anyone don't in order to learn ways to program and also you don't want to draw the own graphics and sharp graphics. You will learn some in the fundamental concepts behind game making then get a blast doing this. Look with these facts to view whether freemium is an exceptionally good option for your peculiar software treatment. It could be well. It could be that charging the fee for your full-featured application is much better. Or it could some other alternative. But without the idea of gathering a wide audience the whole freemium idea has little chance - it's unsuitable for niche solutions. Innovative software products may work with this model - it's very theraputic for introducing urge for food to the. And if you select freemium, let your users know that the full version is this. Ask them reveal information of your app on social social networks. Don't forget about seeking for feedback - and possibly, offer bonuses for the fact.

[taurianskies7]

Let me clear this up for you:

Since no one seems to understand. Time to rant. 

CONCEPT OF KARMA

I absolutely hate how western practitioners have twisted the meaning and bastardised it. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not completely rooted in my roots and I’m not an extreme traditionalist but people using the concept of karma by first misunderstanding its foundations and then using it to justify horrendous shit is unbelievable. Which then, leads to people trying to divorce karma from its associations.

Okay, let’s just break it down. Idk how they just reduced Karma as “what goes around, comes around” & treated it like a cause and effect deal, because it isn’t. Using Karma to justify suffering and oppression was NEVER it’s original purpose. Looking through Hinduism & Vedic teachings, Karma is a law that human in the centre of responsibility, in every way, shape and form. There is a reason Karma is tied with Saturn (Shani), the God of Karma, Justice and Retribution, and ANY astrologer can tell you how Saturn operates in similar principal. Karma doesn’t teach people to shut up & suffer because they deserve it. Karma says that the cycles that exist are created by and through humans, their suffering & good fortune accordingly and by virtue, it is in their hands and will alone on how they want to cultivate their actions.

It DOESN’T discount systematic oppression.

It DOESN’T tell you to sit on your hands and suffer because it’s your fault.

It DOESN’T tell you that you’ll get good things after suffering.

What Karma does is present you with the situation of your life, then waits and watches what YOU choose to do with it, how YOU work or manage it. Ultimately, being tied to Saturn, it expects you to take responsibility on creating your own situation.

And no, I’m not saying this in the way that the way people are, and how they’re suffering is because they somehow “were a bad person in their previous life, etc etc”, I’m saying that it acknowledges that people have different situations & personal suffering, yes, a LOT of things in life are fundamentally difficult but you need to understand, the planets or the gods didn’t create suffering on such a global scale, it was ultimately humans/men themselves that perpetuated and continued the cycle of suffering, and it is, ultimately, in our hands to make it better or worse. Karma treats everyone equally this sense, but it is very difficult to understand this if you don’t realise that the concept of Karma is deeply tied with cycles, especially as Hinduism treats time as a cycle itself, and often times people really can’t and don’t have the knowledge of comprehending anything but their own/current life while they’re alive. 

Karma isn’t an immediate slap in the face (unless you have those placements that make it so) as you know, the GOD OF KARMA is literally called the slowest/slow moving planet and is symbolised by a tortoise, the effects of your Karma accumulate and thus it usually manifests in the various cycle of lifes. I understand that western practitioners or those growing up with largely Christian themes/society can’t understand because we don’t have a definite “end”, the only “end” that comes from cycles of reincarnation is through burning the ties of Karma and liberating the soul. There are three types of Karma:

1. Sanchita karma, the sum total of past karmas yet to be resolved. 2. Prarabdha karma, that portion of sanchita karma that is to be experienced in this life. 3. Kriyamana karma, the karma that humans are currently creating, which will bear fruit in future.

There are some things in life you can’t control, there are also things in life that you can control. Karma is a continuous cycle until you achieve moksha, which is the ultimate goal of liberation.

Hinduism/The Vedas has recognised and understood the way the Law of Karma works, that’s one of the main reasons Dharma was made one of the aims of life, the act of good deeds, performing proper responsibilities & personality that ultimately gears you towards attaining (good)karma that will make it easier for you to pursue the other “Purusartha” aka aims of life, and of course, the path towards liberation in general.

From this perspective, we see life as fundamentally connected with everything, including people, action, deeds, nature, planets, the universe etc etc, Karma is just a law that explains one part of such. Astrology has always been one of the main tools used to deeply study the bond between the planets and a human existence (soul & body), one of the main reason Karmic Astrology exists is because the intrinsic ties our existence has with different elements of life, and of course, the soul that has & will be going through everything. Now that you’re in the end of this post, I hope you never misuse the concept of “Karma” because I’m going to arrive there with Saturn to slap a bitch.

[broccoliboix5peepeeman]

Could we got some Iida Tenya mother hen-ning the disaster trio of Izuku, Uraraka, and Shouto, who can't self-care for shit? 😊

Iida as a mother hen is such a fun concept when you remember he's attempted murder XD

Tenya doesn't claim to understand the inner workings of people's minds.

He doesn't understand why Todoroki becomes closed off and angry after Endeavour appears on the news. He doesn't understand why Uraraka sometimes skips meals and refuses to buy more toothpaste when the tube's nearly empty. He certainly doesn't understand why Midoriya hunches forward and makes himself small when he's easily one of the strongest heroes in their class.

That doesn't mean that Tenya won't try to help though.

He scours the library and the internet for information. He learns about how some people struggle to look after themselves and how it affects their health. Initially, it's difficult for Tenya to comprehend because he likes to be organised; he likes his routine. It's easy for him to get up in the morning and make sure his needs are met, because that's what he's always done and that's not about to change. Eventually though, he learns that sometimes it's not as easy for other people and that outside triggers can discourage them from practicing self-care.

It's okay though, because Tenya knows how to defeat villains, even though these are, admittedly, a new kind for him to battle.

With Uraraka, he has to tread carefully, because he knows from experience that offering to help her financially makes her upset. Tenya doesn't understand why and has told her on multiple occasions that it's okay to accept help, but still, he respects her wishes.

Instead, he asks her to help him make dinner. Tenya likes to believe he's a competent cook - it's important with training to be a hero. He argues as much when Uraraka seems suspicious, until she caves in and they get started.

Soon, it becomes part of their routine, cooking dinner together and distracting his friend from her worries as the two of them have fun. Tenya may end up with flour on his face more often than not, but it's worth it when they tuck into their meal at the end and Uraraka is smiling between every mouthful.

However, Tenya quickly learns that, with Midoriya, he neglects his self-care because he thinks he doesn't deserve it. If Tenya's honest, it's the most ludicrous thing he's ever heard, but he knows expressing that opinion isn't going to help the situation.

That doesn't mean he's not going to try and combat it though.

One day, he invites Midoriya to go dog-walking with him. He's not entirely sure what's so funny about having nine dogs leashed to his waist while he chastises a Pomeranian about defecating on his shoe, but as long as Midoriya is crying happy tears as he bends over laughing, he can't really complain.

On their walks, Tenya convinces his friend to practice positive affirmation and while it's difficult at first, being surrounded by canines that are scientifically proven to help improve mood provides Midoriya with the confidence to finally tell Tenya what he's proud of.

He last target is Todoroki and he takes action when the aforementioned storms through the common room, a trail of frost in his wake. Tenya follows his friend to his room and invites him to mediate. He explains in great detail the benefits of such an exercise and how it can help reduce stress and anxiety. Todoroki finally agrees and soon, the two of them dedicate one hour each week to sitting in silence, focusing on their breathing and mindfulness.

And if Tenya peeks an eye open to find peace written across Todoroki's relaxed face, then he's not about to interrupt the session to say he's proud of him... He'll wait till later.

[yanderecrazysie]

If you don’t mind could I please request the yandere alphabet with Ushijima 🥺? Thank you 💜💜

OOOH Wonder Boy Ushiwaka! I swear I'm the worst with writing him- he's like simple and complicated at the same time-

Thank you so much for requesting!!! I'll do my very best!

Ushijima Wakatoshi (Haikyuu) -The Yandere Alphabet

🦅🦅🦅🦅🦅🦅🦅🦅🦅🦅🦅🦅🦅🦅🦅🦅🦅🦅

Warnings: yandere themes,

A is for Affection: How do they show their affection for their darling? How often do they show it?

💖 Ushijima isn't the most affectionate type to be 100% honest. It's not that he won't ever show you affection, it's just that he doesn't quite know HOW to.

💖 Physical affection will pretty much have to be something you directly ask for if you want it. He won't pick up on hints well and he's not the type to randomly want to cuddle.

💖 He can be kinda protective/possessive though, so he may wrap you into an embrace or hold you close. That's not so much out of affection though-

💖 Basically: Ushijima's way of showing affection is his ever-constant presence, over-protectiveness, and gentle way of treating you.

B is for Blood: How messy are they willing to get for their darling? Why?

🔪 I don't think Ushijima sees the need to kill for you. It's not that he doesn't want to kill- I honestly don't think it'd bother him if he had to- it's that he doesn't see any real threats to you.

🔪 This guy looks terrifying and he wants to be around you 24/7. Do you really think anyone's going to try something on you with that giant, intimidating man hovering behind you?

🔪 If someone was stupid/drunk enough to try something, Ushijima would just casually toss him across the street. If that guy was strong/big too, you better believe Ushijima will fight as hard as it takes to get the guy to back down/become unconscious.

🔪 If someone tried something on you while he wasn't there, it just means he has to work harder to protect you. Which means being around you even more. Always...

C is for Care or Cruelty: How would they treat their darling when they kidnap them? Would they mock them?

💔 Ushijima wouldn't mock you in the slightest. In fact, he'd be genuinely confused if you tried to run away or were upset that he kidnapped you. He seriously just won't understand why you're scared.

💔 He'll take good care of you though. Honestly, he'll probably baby you a little. He'll want to be the one to feed you, he'll check in on you every 5 minutes, he'll make sure you're in his line of sight at all times...

D is for Delusion: How delusional are they when it comes to their darling? Do they believe their darling loves them?

💭 It's difficult to say with Ushijima. He isn't exactly good with social skills and he's a little awkward, to put it lightly. So, he does kind of expect you to love him back and will think you're confused if you say you don't.

💭 But I don't know if that's considered delusion because that's just Ushijima being Ushijima. Yeah, he thinks you love him. No, it's not any different than him being 100% sure he's going to win a volleyball match.

E is for Expose: How much of their heart do they bear to their darling? How vulnerable are they when it comes to their darling? How much time will it take to trust them?

💧 Uh... Ushijima will flat-out tell you what he's thinking and if you say "bear his heart" he'll think that you're trying to skin him down to his organs or something. He's kinda blunt, basically.

💧 Trust though? I mean, Ushijima trusts you in a way, but in a way, he doesn't. He doesn't trust that you can take care of yourself but he trusts you to be honest.

💧 Like I said, he's complicated. Best way I can explain it is: he trusts you completely but he kind of underestimates your abilities. He has no doubts in his mind that you won't try to run away but he'll also lock up all the exits tight because he worries that you'll get outside and get hurt. Contradictory, I know.

F is for Fight: How would they react if their darling fought back?

👊 Picture a confused puppy that you just pushed off your lap. Like this boy has literally no clue why on earth you're fighting back and he's going to stare at you like you've got a second head growing out of your shoulder.

👊 Ushijima's secretly wondering if you've caught some sort of illness that's making you delirious as he calmly picks you up and tucks you into bed. Your flailing fists and clawing nails are nothing compared to this hulk of a man carrying you away.

G is for Guilt: What would it take for them to feel guilty about their actions? Or do they feel guilty from the start?

😔 Ushijima truly, honestly doesn't see the wrong in what he's doing. Like, I don't think he can comprehend that he's doing something very bad. He's doing what's best for you! That's good, right?

H is for Hell: What would be their darling’s worst experience with them?

🔥 Ushijima would NEVER hurt you and he doesn't really get angry either. I guess the worst experience would be the struggle of trying to gain freedom or even get the point across that you aren't happy about something. It's like talking to a brick wall. A very confused brick wall.

I is for Ideals: What kind of future do they have in mind for/with their darling?

👩‍❤️‍👨 I don't think Ushijima's really thought too far ahead, to be honest. He loves you and that's all that matters to him. As long as you don't leave (which he's positive you won't) life is happy.

👩‍❤️‍👨 He'd probably want kids one day. Only one or two, but he'd be fine if you had more. He'd take good care of them and teach them to act just like him...

J is for Jealousy: How easily do they get jealous? Do they lash out or find a way to cope?

💢 Ushijima doesn't get the concept of jealousy. Worrying about your safety when another guy talks to you? Sure, he does that. But jealous about it? Not really.

K is for Kidnap: How would they go about kidnapping their darling? How much do they plan it out?

🔒 You're just walking home and suddenly you're waking up in a bedroom that you don't recognize. Don't worry, you're not alone! Ushijima's sitting in a chair next to the bed, making sure you wake up.

🔒 Ushijima would plan just far enough to buy all the things you'd need to be "happy" with him. Medication, hygiene products- nothing will go unaccounted for. This man will have a shopping list longer than a roll of toilet paper dedicated to you.

L is for Love Letters: How would they go about courting or approaching their darling?

💌 I think he'd try to walk right up to you and he'd be very disappointed that you're kind of nervous around him. He can't really blame you, considering he looks kinda scary- from his stature to his expression.

💌 Okay, so trying to talk to you didn't work either. Ushijima's a little socially awkward. But that's fine! He'll just bring you back to his place and keep you there until you understand that he loves you. Flawless plan, right?

M is for Mask: Are their true colors drastically different from the way they acted before?

🎭 Other than being a little softer and gentler towards you, Ushijima doesn't change in the least. Like, I'm not sure anyone would notice "odd behavior" because he doesn't find it strange or out of the ordinary himself. He's still the stoic guy we all know him as.

N is for Naughty: How would they punish their darling?

🚓 Ushijima really wouldn't punish you. If you're freaking out, he'll just calmly tuck you into bed and check your temperature because, surely, you're ill if you're acting like that.

🚓 In Ushijima's eyes, you can do no wrong. So, you're honestly safe around this giant of a man. Congrats?

O is for Oppression: How many rights would they take away from their darling? What rights can be earned with time and trust?

📜 You may be able to wander around his house, but you aren't leaving it. But you're kind of... babied. Anything remotely sharp will be tucked away and locked up, you'll have a set bedtime, and you'll probably feel like a kid again.

P is for Patience: How patient are they with their darling?

🕊️ Since Ushijima doesn't think you're doing anything wrong and, when you fight back, he thinks that you're having a hard time or you're sick or something, he'll be extremely patient. He could never get frustrated with you!

Q is for Quit: If their darling dies, leaves, or successfully escapes, would they ever be able to move on?

🏃‍♀️ If you died, Ushijima would probably just turn to volleyball x100. He wouldn't want to think about it and would just try to distract himself from it all.

🏃‍♀️ If you escaped, Ushijima would just keep searching until he found you. You poor thing, you must be so scared and lonely out there, without him to protect you. Hold on, he'll find you and bring you back home again.

R is for Rage: How do they act when angry? How do they calm down?

👿 He doesn't get angry at you. I'm serious. He rarely gets angry in general but he could NEVER get angry at you.

S is for Soulmate: What made them fall in love with their darling? How did they first meet? When did they realize they loved their darling?

💍 You showed up at one of his volleyball games and he immediately noticed you. He's not sure what drew him to you, only that you were the most beautiful thing in the world to him. It really was love at first sight for him.

T is for Tears: How do they feel about seeing their darling scream, cry, and/or isolate themselves?

😭 Ushijima would be so confused. Why are you crying? Are you injured? Where are you? Oh, are you trying to play hide and seek?

😭 You're honestly digging your own grave because you're making him concerned and his protective instinct levels are off the charts. He's not going to give you time alone to cool down because he's pretty sure you need him by your side- even though he's the thing that's scaring you.

U is for Unique: Would they do anything different from the classic yandere?

👌 Like I've said, Ushijima honestly doesn't understand your reservations about being kidnapped and forced into a relationship with him. You have no chance of reasoning with him- you'll have more luck trying to convince the walls of your new home.

V is for Visit: Would they allow anyone else to visit their darling? Do they trust their darling to talk to their loved ones (in person, on the phone, etc.) or not at all?

🧳 Ushijima doesn't trust anyone with your safety. No one can come over to visit you under any circumstances. It's not so much "hiding the evidence" as it is "protecting you from his insane buddies".

W is for Weakness: What weakness can their darling exploit in order to escape?

❌ I think some affection and some tactful persuasion is your best chance. Especially the persuasion.

❌ "Wakatoshi, did you know that direct sunlight is better for you? Not just through the windows, I mean. I miss the fresh air too, you know..."

X is for Xoanon: How much would they revere or worship their darling? To what length would they go to win their darling over?

🛐 Ushijima doesn't worship you, but he prioritizes your safety over everything in his life, even volleyball. He doesn't care so much about trying to win you over- he sees no need to wait for you to realize what he already knows.

Y is for Yearning: How long do they pine after their darling before they snap?

😍 When Ushijima kidnaps you, you're going to be VERY taken aback. You won't even know him personally- you're lucky if you even know his name. And even that's likely just by word-of-mouth, considering he's pretty famous.

😍 This man saw you and knew he had to have you. He doesn't wait long, trust me.

Z is for Zero Tolerance: What is the thing that always makes them snap? What things will they not allow their darling to do under any circumstances?

0️⃣ I mean, he won't let you leave. But like, even if you try to escape, he's just going to assume you're confused about where the bathroom is located or something. You cannot make this man mad.

0️⃣ Ushijima probably would be very hurt if you called him names. Even if he chalked it up to you being sick or confused or something, it still stings worse than any volleyball injury. His expression won't even change though...

🦅🦅🦅🦅🦅🦅🦅🦅🦅🦅🦅🦅🦅🦅🦅🦅🦅🦅🦅🦅🦅🦅

HOLY CRAP THAT TOOK A WHILE-

I really hope you enjoy! Ushiwaka's so hard to write for, in my opinion! The wiki's description of his personality makes me laugh so hard-