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y2kstarr · 8 days ago

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— ᥫ᭡ juicy . . . chris and matt sturniolo

where . . . At the gym, Chris and Matt spot you doing squats, and to their surprise, they realize just how thick your ass and thighs had gotten from your routine workouts, leading them to want to show you just how much they appreciate your hard work

contains . . . eventual smut, threesome (ZERO INCEST), reverse cowgirl position, oral (m!receiving) + handjob, slight spanking, praise

credits to @delilahsturniolo for the marathon concept

HOT PINK WRITING MARATHON . . . fic #12

Controlled breaths and soft grunts left Matt's lips as he stood in front of the wide mirrors on the walls, watching himself as his arms curled up, his hands gripping dumbbells.

His white tank top was already clinging to his chest and shoulders, darkened around the collar with sweat. His arms flexed with each movement, clean and practiced, biceps bulging as he curled the weights up slow, controlled, the kind of effort that didn’t need noise to prove itself.

A few feet away, Chris was mid-set on the incline bench, veins snaking along his arms as he pushed the barbell upward, the plates clinking softly as they steadied at the top, breaths slow and steady.

His black tank stuck to his skin in the same way as Matt's, but it rode up at the sides to reveal carved abs and a sheen of sweat ran down his v-line that lead underneath his basketball shorts.

They weren’t talking and they didn’t need to. The shared rhythm was there like always — both of them tuned into their own routines, but still clocking each other in that silent way brothers do. Who was lifting heavier. Who was keeping pace. Who was going to tap out first.

Matt made it through one more before his form started to slip. He paused mid-lift, teeth gritted and his huffs seeping through his teeth, then let the weights drop with a quiet, frustrated thud against the mat, a defeated huff leaving him as he heard Chris's bar clink as he racked it.

From the bench, Chris didn't even try to hide his grin as he sat up, his voice almost breathless as he celebrated. “Ha! Told you you’d tap out first.”

Matt shot him a look, still catching his breath, rolling his shoulder in that way he always did when he was being petty. “I didn’t tap out. I’m switching muscle groups.”

“Sure you are,” Chris teased, grasping his gym towel and tapping the sweat that lines his hairline. “That face said ‘I’m done’ five reps ago.”

Matt huffed out a laugh, rolled his eyes, and grabbed his water bottle. “Your bar’s lighter than my warm-up set.”

Chris leaned forward on his knees, towel now slung around his neck as he chuckled. “You can say whatever helps you sleep tonight, man. Just admit it — you tapped out.”

Matt ignored him, raising the bottle to his lips as his eyes absentmindedly swept across the gym absently — just taking in the space, the atmosphere and other people present, maybe thinking about what machine to hit next.

Until his eyes suddenly landed on you.

All three of you had come together, a routine you'd kept up for the last three months of your relationship, but as Matt looked at you, he'd realized something he sure as hell didn't realize before.

You were at the squat rack with your back to them, legs shoulder-width apart, moving through your set with slow, intentional form. There wasn’t a hint of struggle in the way you lowered into each rep, thighs tightening beneath your leggings, ass moving in that perfectly controlled rhythm.

Matt blinked once, then twice, and slowly, his water bottle lowered just a little from his lips, as if he were in a trance.

Chris noticed the shift in his brother's silence, that pause in his motion, and decided to follow his gaze, suddenly now beyond happy he'd made the decision to do so.

You were still going, steady, focused, completely in your own zone. Each time you lowered, your form was solid — back straight, knees right where they needed to be. But the way your leggings hugged you, how your thick thighs now filled out the piece of clothing, how the curve of your ass moved with every rep — fuck, it was something else.

Chris finally broke the silence as he let out a quiet breath. “Damn.”

Matt didn’t answer, just tilted his head a little like he was recalibrating everything.

“When did that happen?” Chris asked under his breath, referring to how thick you'd gotten, tone almost impressed as he stood up from the bench he was on.

Matt swallowed as he slowly capped his bottle, still watching you with a chuckle in his tone. “I have no idea... but i'm fucking loving it.”

“She’s been working legs without us,” Chris pointed out as he now stood next to Matt, a little amused now, arms crossed loosely over his chest.

Matt glanced at him. “Apparently.”

They both stood there for a second, caught between moving and not. You hadn’t looked over yet — but the angle of the mirror in front of you caught everything. And a beat later, your eyes flicked up, right to where they stood.

You didn’t miss a thing. Not the way they were staring, not the way Matt had gone quiet, not the crooked grin starting to pull at Chris’s mouth, even if they both looked like total pervs just staring at you.

You didn’t break your stride though, just kept going, but a smile tugged at the corner of your lips — smug, like you knew exactly what you were doing.

Chris leaned over just a little toward Matt, keeping his voice low and teasing. “Still pacing yourself?”

Matt narrowed his eyes as he glanced at Chris, shaking his head once before holding his bottle tight in his grip, starting to walk over to you.

“You coming?” he asked over his shoulder at Chris who looked as if he was still curious on whether he should come to you or not, but as Matt grew closer, he couldn't help but chuckle before he grabbed his bottle from the bench and made his way over to you and Matt.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗

By the time all three of you got home, you were trying not to grin as you fumbled with your keys, the lock just slightly stubborn in that way it always was. You leaned into the door with a soft laugh under your breath as Matt’s hands slid around your waist from behind, pulling you gently back against him.

“Hey—” you protested, giggling a little, half-surprised at how handsy they were getting with you. “I’m trying to open the door.”

Chris’s voice was a breath right at your ear. “Mhmmm,” he murmured, his lips ghosting over your skin. “That’s why you've been taking your sweet ol' time with the key for like… a full minute.”

You laughed again, breathy and flustered. “It’s stuck!”

Matt kissed the back of your shoulder, slow and warm, whilst Chris's kissed at the opposite side of your neck, Matt murmuring against your skin. “You’re stuck. On our minds.”

“Oh my God,” you scoffed at his cheesiness, but you were already smiling, biting your lip as you finally got the door open. The second it creaked inward, Chris stepped behind you as you all walked in and kicked it closed without missing a beat.

You took two steps forward before you felt Matt’s mouth again, soft and slow at the base of your neck, while Chris’s hands slid under your tank top from behind, grazing up your sides. You squirmed a little between them, a laugh bubbling up before you could stop it.

“Okay, okay,” you said through a grin, trying to turn around. “Why are you two acting like this all of a sudden?”

Chris didn’t move far, his lips brushing the shell of your ear, feigning innocence with a soft chuckle. “Acting like what?”

“Like you’re about to eat me alive,” you teased, giggling again when Matt’s hand squeezed your hip.

“Because we are,” Matt said, voice rough but playful. “You should’ve seen the way you looked at the gym.”

“You were showing off,” Chris added, grinning as he tugged gently at the hem of your tank top.

“I wasn’t,” you lied, barely holding back another laugh as you knew you were totally trying to catch their attentions back at the gym, a breath catching in your throat as Matt’s fingers slid under the waistband of your leggings.

“Then why were you smirking at us in the mirror?” Chris asked, pressing a kiss to your cheek, then lower. “You knew we were staring.”

“You were staring?” you asked, pretending to sound scandalized — but it was no use with how flushed your face felt. Your voice broke on a laugh as Matt’s hand smoothed over the curve of your ass, just firm enough to make your knees wobble a little.

Matt leaned in, pressing up behind you like he was losing grip on his self control. “How could we not?”

Chris slipped to walk in front of you, his hand finding yours to guide you gently forward, his back facing away from you. “Bedroom. Now. Before I do something ridiculous in this hallway.”

You giggled again, tripping a little on your way down the hall, but they steadied you between themselves like they had a plan — like they’d been thinking about this since the moment they'd left that gym.

As you all stepped into the bedroom, your lips met Chris's, his hands trailing down to grasp the hem of your tank top as your hands slid up to curl into the strands of his hair. You felt as he tugged up your tank top, making you pull from the kiss to help him take it off, chuckles and giggles spilling from the three of you as you got to the bed.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗

"Oh f-fuck!"

Your moans echoed throughout the bedroom, mixing in with Chris's groans as his hands gripped your hips tight, his eyes trained on the way your ass lifted and fell with each movement you made, your hands holding yourself up on his thighs as you rode him reverse cowgirl style.

A gasped yelp left your lips as Chris's hand came down with another smack, not too hard, but not too weak, perfect enough to sting upon impact before instantly melting into thrilling pleasure that coursed through your body.

"Jesus fuck, ma— such a perfect fuckin' ass. Been working it out for a while now, huh? Wanting to see if we'd notice?" Chris teased as his hands guided your hips, his head lolling back at the ecstatic feeling of you riding him like this.

You could hardly give him a clear answer back as Matt's cock slipped back into your willing mouth, your eyes rolling back at the taste of him before bobbing your head, a muffled "mhmmm" leaving you around Matt's dick as one hand came up to grip his thigh as well.

"Couldn't– fuck– couldn't help ourselves, baby," Matt cooed down at you, groaning deeply as you took him so perfectly, just like you always did, your pretty eyes looking up at him in a way that had him nearly blowing his load right the. and there. "We just had to reward you once we saw how much your work's been paying off."

You moaned around Matt's cock at his words, feeling as his fingers gripped your hair tighter with a grunt leaving his lips.

Nothing but sounds of pleasuring sex filled the room, groans and moans, whines and grunts, slaps and slurps. It was obscene, but god, you fucking loved it. You couldn't help the way you mewled as Matt's cock slipped from your mouth, feeling as Chris thrusted up into you, his movements now quickened in a way you knew all too well.

"Shhhit, ma— god, you're gonna make me fuckin' cum—" Chris groaned out almost pathetically, his hands sliding down to dig his fingers into your deliciously thick thighs, his thrusts meeting your moving hips in a way that had your nearly trembling with pleasure.

You couldn't get Matt back into your mouth with how Chris was fucking you, so your hand shakingly moved up, wrapping around his thick cock and starting to pump him at a pace that had him stuttering his breath and tensing his thighs.

"Fucking hell— gonna make me fucking cum too, baby— keep that up— oh fuck, please—" Matt moaned, his hips thrusting forward to meet your pumps, practically fucking your fist as you looked up at him with parts lips and flushed cheeks.

You could feel as both of their movements became a little sloppy, hurried as if they were scrambling to the edge, and as you felt that burning pleasure grow and grow within, you moved your hips and hand in time just to tip them over the edge.

As if in unison, you felt as thick, warm spurts of cum from Chris filled your sweet cunt, all the while pearly ropes of cum shot from Matt's cock, your mouth open as they landed on your tongue and face, making you let out a breathless giggle before you felt your orgasm wash over you like a tidal wave, your eyes rolling back in ecstasy.

Groans, whines, and moans filled the room as you rode out your collective highs, before everything finally slowed down to a stop, Chris's thrusts halting, you hips stopping, and your hand slipping from Matt's cock. The once pleasured noises turned now into panted breaths.

"Please don't ever fucking change this gorgeous body, ma," Chris panted behind you, pulling breathless chuckles and giggles from all three of you, a collective agreement throughout the room.

Oh you were never going to stop giving them more to drool over.

☆ : so so sorry this is coming out so late in the day, was out most of the day with family so, had to work on this when I could 😭 hope it turned out good and that you guys enjoy!! 1 MORE DAY YALL <33

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saerins · 1 year ago

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ᯓ ᝰ ONLY FOR YOU .ᐟ — gojo satoru

your new roommate is all sorts of mysterious. the biggest one of all? the fact that he keeps trying for you even when it seems like you won’t budge. (or, satoru’s preposterous attempts at getting you to date him.)

gojo satoru x female reader. content tags runaway!gojo, modern au, also roommate gojo, they’re both about mid-twenties here, mentions of periods. word count 2.5k

ᯓ notes .ᐟ do not perceive me </3 haha with the state of jjk manga i just wanted some happiness so have some gojo !! this was random and came completely out of nowhere :’) anyway hope you guys enjoy <3

six months after moving into an apartment in the city, your haphazard living quarters (haphazard mostly because the previous tenants had zero interior design sense) has nearly turned into your dream home.

new furniture litters every square feet, the old ones all tossed out. your living room spots a fresh new rug—black and white, thick and furry. the new coffee table is made of glass, magazines and newspapers filling up the space underneath. the couch has been upgraded to a dark leather, oozing a sense of old money somehow.

it’s not just your living room, your bedroom too spots some new upgrades. the single bed has been upgraded to a queen size, new vanity perpendicular to the study desk and your new wardrobe as high as the ceiling itself.

all minimalistic and black and whites and beiges, a far cry from the old and dreary dark blue walls that seem to evoke a sense of dread in you.

of course, while you’d like to claim the credit for yourself, your roommate played a much bigger part in all of this redecorating. he paid for most of it, after all.

“remind me again, satoru, how do you have this much money when you don’t even work?”

satoru stands beside you, having followed your line of sight as the both of you finally finished redecorating the house. he’s standing tall and proud too, like he’s pleased with himself because he knows you like what he’s thought up of here.

a six-foot-three human of godly proportions with the most beautiful face you’ve ever seen. too bad he’s managed to annoy you the moment he first step foot in the apartment.

he turns to look at you, a wink in your direction before that shit-eating grin and a “it’s a secret” being all he offers.

you roll your eyes. “whatever, satoru,” you shrug it off, slumping down on your new leather seats.

he opts to sit right beside you despite the sofa being the width of your entire living room. he’s annoying like that, always up in your space, has to make himself known—he’s been like this ever since he first moved in.

sometimes he makes you question your decision of having a roommate.

“hey y/n, i wanna ask you something!”

you sigh, in the exasperated non-friendly way and glare at satoru, who’s beaming from ear to ear, because every single time he says that, he’ll ask you some ridiculous question.

the last time he did was a few days ago, when he asked about your period cycle, and when you hit him with the pillow, he’d pouted and said, “hey, i just thought i could help you buy some during your time if i ever dropped by the store!”

(which is funny considering how the first time you went grocery shopping together he looked like a kid on a sugar rush, dumping only—and only—sweets and pastries into the shopping cart.)

“do i get to say no?”

“nope!” and he still has that happy lilt to his voice.

“why do i even bother with you, satoru?” you rub your temples before resigning yourself to look at him with a straight face.

satoru shifts his position so he’s leaning on his side, watching you dreamily. it’s such a crime that he looks like that—it’s so easy for him to make hearts melt. “do you have a boyfriend?”

he nearly makes you choke on nothing. as much as you want to manoeuvre out of such talk with him, you know that you’re just signing up for a much longer conversation with him if you don’t just give him a straight answer.

“no,” you say, contemplating just stopping there, but then again, you don’t want him to get any ideas. “and i’m not looking for one, satoru.”

right on cue, he pouts. but somehow, something tells you he expected your answer already. “but you don’t have one, so i can try,” he says, as if to affirm the idea to himself.

“yeah you can try, but i’ll keep saying no, satoru, so don’t even bother.” you’re trying your best to get him not to even try, but satoru’s optimism is probably one of the strongest things to exist on this earth.

after a continuous fifteen minutes of you insisting that the more he tries, the more it’d turn you off, you thought you’d gotten through to him.

until one week later when he proves all your efforts were for naught.

he shows up at the lobby of your company building, looking all dashing and everything like a modern prince charming would, leaning against the hood of his car while he scrolls through his phone, evidently waiting for you because you’ve decided to ignore all his questions for the past two hours (of which all were trying to get you to tell him what time you get off work).

thanks to his little stunt (showing up at your workplace and basically forcing you to ride with him or else he’ll make an even bigger display of affection), everyone at the office now thinks you’re already dating that tall dreamy man, or that you’re crazy not to.

after you say you’re still not interested, he’s moved on to other forms of… seduction.

one night, you go home to see him in just his sweats, cooking dinner and to top it off, it’s your favourite dish.

you scoff in disbelief, flinging your purse down onto the dining table. (a variation of light oak you both agreed would look good with everything else.) “satoru, what is this?”

he turns around, abs on full display as he acts coy. the spatula in his right hand turning a circle as he shrugs. “what do you mean? just cooking some dinner, want some?”

oh, you’ll get him for this. you don’t know how, but one day you will. he’s taken everything you said you liked about a contestant on a dating show and is currently trying to embody everything he is just to tempt you into dating him.

(it’s unfair that you somehow think satoru is much more handsome than anyone on tv, but you’re never going to tell him that. never.)

“satoru.”

(your tone is nearly akin to that which his mother often used on him when he was young. you’re kind of scary sometimes.)

his disinterested expression eases into an easy smirk, his lower back leaning against the counter. “oooh, you’re so hot when you’re all angry, babe.”

“i’m not your babe and the answer is still no!”

(he ends up burning whatever he was trying to cook because he was too busy turning his attention to you.)

the next time he tries, he’s sending you bouquets of flowers to you. at your workplace, right in full view of everyone including your bosses, who all seem to be so interested in your love life now. especially when what they’re reading are things like “can’t wait to see you when you get home, miss you ♡”.

so now the entire office thinks you live with your boyfriend and rumours have spread that you’re going to get married soon. how on earth that second part got out of hand you have no idea.

now everyday when you get home, he has something for you. it varies from time to time, and they range from food to high-end jewellery. he keeps trying to play a game of hit or miss, trying to gauge by your expressions every time he gives you his gift, trying to decide whether you like it or not.

three months later, you can safely say he has your food preferences nailed. as for everything else, like fashion and accessories, there’s more to be said. you didn’t want to accept all his gifts, especially not when you’re going to hate yourself for possibly leading him on, but satoru has never been one to take no for an answer. ever since the day you first met him really, when he only insists on you calling him by his first name and refuses to tell you his last. (yet he wants to know everything about you.)

satoru’s infuriating.

“you know, you keep doing all this without knowing whether i’ll ever say yes, or whether or not i’m taking advantage of you, why won’t you stop?” you ask when you get home one day, tired as shit because an important (yet unreasonable) client has taken the opportunity to shit on you earlier today for things that they failed to do.

it makes you wonder whether satoru ever thinks the same about you; whether you’re an asshole for just… being the way you are.

he tilts his head to the side, the gift in his hand, inside a pretty paper bag, falling to his side as he thinks. “nah, you’re not like that.”

“like what?”

“whatever bad thing you’re thinking about yourself,” satoru decides, moving forward to ruffle your hair. usually you move away, but this time you let him.

“and how are you so sure?”

he pouts a little, as if it’s a disappointment you don’t already know. “i dunno what you’re thinking about, but i happen to like you. a lot.”

“satoru, you barely know me.”

“maybe. but i at least know you’re independent though, you always like to get shit done yourself and you do it all well. and i like the way you work hard, even after you get back home. and you always feed the stray cats outside our apartment, that’s why you hate it when you get off work late.”

there’s a lot of things satoru notices that you probably don’t know about. and here you are, thinking he’s just doing all this for the heck of it. still, it’s an awkward topic that you’re not sure how to continue.

“that’s it?” you mumble sheepishly, averting your gaze.

satoru grins, eyes forming cute little half moons. “want me to say more? i have more, how about—”

“okay you can shut up now!” you exclaim, lunging forward to cover his mouth with your hands, though all that does is give him a reason to shoot you his signature shit-eating grin.

“icanshwotallygibyoumorereasonswhy—”

you yank your hands away, realising it does nothing to actually shut him up.

“i like you,” he finishes. still grinning. still proud of himself. still holding your new gift in his hand.

and maybe it’s the way he’s trying relentlessly, tirelessly, even in the face of all your rejections. or maybe it’s the way you notice that he’s trying, earnestly. because honestly? you don’t know what you can offer him. he seems to do just well enough by himself. and with looks like that? you don’t doubt he can attract some powerful socialites if he wants.

or perhaps it’s the way he’s prattling on about how he saw you using up your planner pages already that one time you were perched on the balcony area doing your work that he’s shamelessly now praising himself for getting you more pages because the last time, you said to stop it with the super expensive gifts.

“i think i’m a pretty good listener—”

“okay, satoru,” you concede, a ghost of a smirk tugging the corners of your lips.

satoru blinks like an idiot, like he’s a deer caught in the headlights, because he can’t believe what you just implied.

“okaaaay as in…” he trails off for a moment, his confusion quickly giving way to a full-on grin, the widest you’ve ever seen on him. “y/n, are you my girlfriend now?”

you hold your pointer finger up and tut him, shaking it back and forth trying not to get him to jump the gun. it’s barely been a minute since you agreed and you can already tell he’s going to be a handful.

“we’re not together—”

“yet,” he corrects you, always the eager one. still grinning, still staring at you dreamily, white lashes and blue eyes the bane of your existence.

you sigh, deciding not to reiterate that. “but i’ll go on a few dates with you, satoru. then by the end of it, you’ll see why we won’t work out.”

that doesn’t dampen his spirits—and at this point, you doubt anything ever will. this time, he’s the one shaking his index finger. “or, you’ll wonder where i’ve been your whole life.”

“perhaps. but maybe because i wanted to murder you.”

satoru hums as if he’s pondering it, then shakes his head. “nah, because you’d curse that we didn’t have more time together,” he says, sticking his tongue out.

he may act like a child in a grown man’s body, and more often than not, you may lament internally that he’s annoying and doesn’t know the meaning of personal space, but right now, the way his cheeky expression slowly fades into a genuine smile, the way his big hand comes up to your cheek to caress your face, the way his beautiful blue eyes fall to gaze at your lips—you get the hint that satoru’s dangerous.

dangerous because it might be so easy to fall for him, and maybe next time, before you know it, you’ll love him.

for now, it’s enough for you to absorb, and so you bail first before satoru gets to kiss you on the lips.

“dinner saturday, eight?” he calls after you, and you can just make out his smirk even when you’re not looking at him.

you’re still bounding down the hallway to your room. “whatever, you’re paying, satoru,” you declare back to him, realising you’re still flustered from how close he was back there.

“aw, love you too, babe!”

“oh my god, satoru i hate you,” you groan as you shut the bedroom door behind you.

still, behind closed doors, you can hear him chuckling. “i’ll make you fall for me one day, y/n.”

you don’t understand why, but your knees grow weak, and you fall to the floor clutching your purse in your hands. satoru’s charming and handsome and he’s probably everything you dreamed that prince charming would be.

but you also know how easily romance can ruin you.

so why, for the first time in years, do you feel your heart skipping beats and a genuine excited smile forming on your face?

you fish your phone out when you feel the vibration and realise it’s a text from satoru. never one for any type of space, really.

i’ll take care of you, don’t worry. 🫡

you laugh at his use of the emoji, and for the first time, you feel yourself so easily warming up to someone. deciding to throw him a bone tonight, you text him back.

in his room, satoru smiles to himself as he reads your message.

i’m in your hands, then. 🫡

he’s let a lot of people down recently. but you? no, he doesn’t ever want to let you down. for the first time in his life, he’s wondering if this is what love feels like.

#jjk x reader #gojo x reader #gojo satoru x reader #satoru x reader #gojo x you #gojo x y/n #gojo satoru x you #gojo satoru x y/n #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk gojo x reader #jjk imagines #gojo satoru imagines #gojo imagines #૪ aeri’s fics !

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some-teeth-in-a-trench-coat · 1 year ago

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[ID: a reply from @ceruleanvulpine which reads "you were possessed by excel autocomplete" /End ID]

Me: Okay, so it looks like I forgot to link the first item in this alphabetically indexed list. Let's take care of that right now.

Me: <a href="#...

Me: Whoops, and I forgot to do the second item, too. Let's fix that.

Me: <b href="#...

Me:

Me: Wait.

#images #described #HTML #coding #I used a zero width space to cancel the @ I love you zero width space

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foone · 5 months ago

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my hobby is mixing　other whitespace characters in with my spaces.

Just a plain space? really? How boring.

Why not try an ogham space mark? a hair space? a medium mathematical space? an ideographic space? a mutton quad?

You can even fill your text with zero width spaces and no one will know.

Except you.

#typography #unicode

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spatialmanufactureltd · 8 months ago

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MAGICORE LP (2020)

by Spatial Manufacture Ltd. & Staticca

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oneshotgremlin · 10 months ago

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Up and Down

Thoughts on how beings generally perceive their world one spatial dimension lower than the dimensionality of the space they inhabit:

In the flatlands, the way people perceive the world around them is through lines, and so visual receptors HAVE to be on the edges of their shapes

Otherwise by all accounts the person would be effectively blind

So Mrs.Red and Mr.Blue have this strange yellow boy

Who appears to be born with no eyes

(It’s directly in his center, but without tests and doctors nobody can see it)

And for all intents and purposes, the boy is blind

He has to feel his way around buildings and people (in his hand a black cane that his parents bought to aid him)

And he doesn’t know what his parents look like, and only knows them by their voice as they guide him

They love him all the same, regardless

(Meanwhile, he stares up at the infinite expanse of the night sky. But the thing about infinity is that it makes where you stand so infinitesimally tiny in comparison, and no matter how far you run side to side the stars do not move an inch for you. And if they’re all someone sees, the only logical conclusion that can be drawn is that where they are is unspeakably, claustrophobically small)

(It doesn’t matter if the kids at school bully him and the adults look at him with pity and disdain that he can’t even see, because don’t they know how SMALL they are? Don’t they know how small EVERYTHING is?)

And so, with years and years and nowhere else to go, Bill reaches UP

(And no-one else has tried before, because why would they? There is no up or down to conceive, only forwards and backwards and left and right.)

It takes unimaginable amounts of energy to punch a rift into a dimension. In a time and space unmeasurably far away, a six fingered man and his five fingered twin would learn that lesson well

In the flatlands, it’s less of an interdimensional portal looming ominously in a metal room and more of a calculation

l is for length. w is for width. h is for height

And like a computer told to divide by zero, everything falls apart

Did you know that when energetic particles that erupt from the stars collide with a sufficiently nitrogen rich atmosphere, it produces the color blue?

Did you know the only reason the flatlanders didn’t drift off into the freezing cold yet boiling hot void of space, despite not having a planet with the volume and mass needed to produce a gravitational field, is their dimension’s lack of third dimensionality?

Like insects pinned underneath glass, yet the glass protected their corpses from falling apart?

They scream. He cries. He laughs. They die.

It’s an old saying: “When gravity falls and earth becomes sky beware the beast with just one eye”

And when little Billy looks away from the stars, looks down to finally see his tiny, minuscule home

For the first and last time, he sees a blue triangle with a hat, and a red triangle with a bow.

#gravity falls #flatland #bill cipher #the book of bill #I love the lore and characterization of bill because he's so flawed but in a way that like I don't know how else he coulda turned out #don't get me wrong I still hate him as a person and all i can say to his death is “rest in piss bozo you had it fuckin comin”#but like he's fascinating to me #in a “i'd psychoanalyze him just to make him break down screaming and sobbing in a rap battle” kinda way #tbh i wanted to make this into a fic but uh...yeah the sentences weren't sentencing #fic post #??? dunno if that fits #if someone wants to turn this into an actually coherent fic please let me know so i can platonically kiss you on the lips #shut up gremlin #also ngl it's also lowkey giving spamton themes of reaching for [HEAVEN] ok i'll actually stop now #ft. terminallysilly's rockabye billy cover playing in my head on loop #scribbleshot

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