eyeofprovidence

[eyeofprovidence]

BILL! BILL! BILL! BILL CIPH(ER) THE PSYCHOTIC GUY!

"CLEVER! DID YOU KNOW THAT I WAS THE ONE WHO MADE MR. NYE FAMOUS? BET YOU DIDN'T CATCH ALL THE SUBLIMINAL MESSAGING IN HIS SHOW, DID YA?"

HONESTY HOUR WEEK!

[eyeofprovidence]

@eyeofprovidence / @lilmermaids / @totallycloves / @vcmpirequeen <3

it’s an honesty hour week!!

We know recently activity has been a little low as we've all hit a bit of a wall with muse but it hopefully help get inspiration flowing, we're going to be doing an honesty week! For the rest of the week, into the next, we're inviting people to send out honesty asks and reblog ask memes, facilitating muse and get people into the groove - have fun!

[eyeofprovidence]

dipper: i heard bill is in your walls

❛ of all the things to ask me, man ?? he's living in the walls of my skull maybe, but.... that was so not cool bringing him up, dude. not fucking cool. ❜

@eyeofprovidence

honesty week

[eyeofprovidence]

@mabelgiirl

dipper remains as stubborn and a shitty liar as ever, but there's always his twin! mabel has always been more fun than her boring 'ol brother anyway, and so much easier to sway. she's not all that unlike him, really! sure, she lacks the amount of knowledge - aka, the damn journals - that her brother possesses, but she might be useful enough.

and so, he enters her dreams not with the apocalyptic scene and searing torture her twin had to experience, but a landscape of fun. vibrant color in every direction, with the air somehow tasting of rainbows and ice cream, the "ground" made of knit pastels, giant walking stuffed animals grazing in the distance, trees of candy...

bill remains unseen – he'll give her some time to settle into her dreamscape and properly lower her guard, so instead, an androgynous, totally dreamy vampire approaches.

"Yo, Mabel!" the vamp waves, showing those oh-so-alluring-(to fans of Twilight)-fangs. "Wanna get some ice cream with me?" a river of swirling rainbow ice cream manifests between mabel and the cool vamp, naturally. "I heard it literally tastes like your best memories."

[eyeofprovidence]

who do you think has the worst vibes in evermore?

Ḇ̵̡̧̢̡̨͇͓͎̪̫̜̼̺̙̻͇̜̥͓͙͚̱̰͙̳̟͇̮̰͉͓̟̗̬̗̝͖̠̭̼̩̦̼͓̝̖̗͉̫͚̝͚̰͎̣̠͈͍̺̖̟͒̄̂̾͜͜ͅI̷̧̡̡̨̧̢̛̛̛̮̻̭͚͙̫̱͙̻̼̯͎͔̟̺̼͖̰͓͓̤̬̬̩̪̜͖͇͈̺̼̯̩̦̻̟̫̫͕̳͖̼̞̗̻̖̱͚͔̥̲̼͎̤͓͕̰̺̘͕̪͈̜̬͂͆̓̊͋̑̇̈́̄̿̓̒͌͌̀̃̔͐̇̈̔͑̈́̇̍̅̈́͋͒̓́̈͊̔̀̽̏̎̈́̏͌̈́̈́̋̓̃͊̔͗̾͆͆̊̿̑̽̐̔̏͑͊̀̿̒̉̃̌́̓̍͗͐̓̈́͌͒͊̈́̈͊͑́͛̆̉̈́̏̓͐̀͌̆̅͗́͐̄̀͐̉̊̀͐̀͆̊̉̎͆͆̽́̉̇̂͐͒͆̓͑͛͊̾̏͗̉̐̌̚̕̕̚͘̕̕͘̕͠͝͠͠͝͝͝͝͝͠͝ͅͅͅĻ̶̧̛̛̛̛̛̛̛̛̗͇̫̟̺̱̭̳͉̠̝̠̥̮͎̞̘͙̞̱͙̥̙̮͇̘̺̬͓̼͉̳͖̥̳̗͚͚̣̝̜̺̣̗̮͎͚̙̜̤̒͑̍̑̒̋̅̈́̊̓̏̌̈́̃̀͑̈́̿́̃̍̌̅͂̅̑̏̅̄̎̿̽̃͗̽́̈͋̇͂̉̓̿̑̀̐̈́͋̍͂̀̓̄́̂̂͆̄̽͊͒̓̾̒̉̀̿̋̐̏̿̍̈́̓̀̌̽̉͛̂͂̉͑͒̉̽̂̑̓̿̉̿͂͌͆̊̀͂̎͑̅́̍̊̆͛̂̑͂̋̎̈̀̂͋̈͛̊̽̈́͋̍̈̓̈́́͛̎̈́͛̒͒̀͒͛̔̉́̀́̎̇̆͋̑̽̉̍̉̈́̆̋̀͂͐̂͗́́̽͗̊̐̽͗͋̓̊̀̑̀̋̑̈̐͒̔̍̌̓̋͂̓̌̌͆͗̓͌̂̍͂̿͑̄͐̀͗͌̓́̈́̈́͌͑́̓̿̈̇̍͑̿͐͐̀̅̆̎̋͑̽͗͂̌̊̌̌̈̾̿͊̍̃͘̕̚̕͘̕̚̚̚̕͜͜͜͝͝͝͠͝͝͝͝͝͝͠͝͝͝͝L̵̛̛̛̛̮̹̘͍͖̘͎̹͉͖̣̩̯͚͑̈́̈́͌̅̒͌̔͋̈̌̃͂̈́̅̂͊̓̒̍̾͆̈́̐͂͋́̾̀̃̽͌̀̒́̾̇̂̒̆͋̓͐̒̒̉̍́̒̌͌̔̀̊̈́͊̀͒͒̈́̑̽̓̇͐̈̍̈́͊͗́͌͗̇̅̑̐̈́̋̍͐́̒̇̿̓̽̆̋̀̑̾̈́̀̈́̚̚͘̚͘̕̕͝͝͝͝͝ ̸̢̧̨̡̨̨̨̨̧̨̧̛̗͇̭̳̤̼̙͕͈̺̭̪̤͇̻͖̞͙͎̦̲͓͇̩͓͇̭̪̦̩̲̮͕̲̹̰͖̻͉͓̝͔̼̝̤̭̯̱̹̻̜̞̙̟̞̬̟͓̮͈̮̖͇̥̮̯̻̺̝͈͕͓̣͚̭̙͍͚̳̏̇́̂̋͛̓͑́̉͑͋̀͆̇̓̈̆͛́͗͑̄̂̈̀̾̔̍͊͂̃̀̂̈́͑̈́̉͌͌̏̐̿͑̏̃̇̚̚͘̚͜͜͜͝͝͝Ċ̶̢̨̧̧̧̡̨̨̡̡̨̡̨̡̨̢̛̛̛̛͇̺̳̗̖̳̱̱̫͙̗̥̤̲̣͇̪̖͉͉̭̖͖̹̖̠̘̹̻̻͍͖͕͕̘̟̟̼̬̹̰̼̰̲̳̳̮̙̱͚̲͚̯͕͖̲͍͈͕͉̳̙̮͉̣̼̼̺̜͓̳̳͚̘͖̫̞̞̲̝͕̮̮̖̭̱̙̟͙̰̙͇̞̳̟͔̯̭̠̮͉̣͇̻̼͔͈̳̟̦͖̫̲̙̱̥͓̙̠̼͙̗̻͙̲̘̫͙̪̮̖̝̯͙̣̼͈̗̝̰̘͙̬̞́̈́̈́̌̑̓̐́̈̄͊͛̂̓́̂̈́͗̈́̉̄̒̓̉̅́̈̎̓̈͗̂̾̄͛̇̓̉̈́̽̔̍̌̓̾̓̿̊́̓͐͌̒̒̀͊̆̈́͌̇͆̅̀͆͐͐̃͊̈̂̉͑̏̄̈́͒̔̔͛̍̔̒̂͗̆͐͋́̉̉͒̾̓̉́̈̌̏̌̒̇͒̓͐́̓́͋̋͆̀͋̾̋́͂̃̐̾͊̅̐̍͋́̍̾̀̏̾̀̅̿́̎̌͐̔̅̀͊͗̑͆̈̌̓̽͊͋̎̽̓̐̊͊̌̒̔̒̅͐͐̑̊͗̀̒͆̔̃̚̚̚͘̚̚̕͘͘̕͘͘̚̚̚̕̕̕͘͜͜͠͝͝͠͝͝͝͝͝͝͝͠͠͝͝͝͝͝ͅͅͅͅI̴̢̡̧̢̢̡̨̢̢̧̛̯̰̟̯̳̩͍̩͇̯̩̤̯͈̫̪̠̦̤͉͉̬̯̳̣͖̻͙̪̝̘̳̗̪͔̫̭̠̟͖̺̬͙̻̲̥͎̮͉̺̩̲̲͔̩̙̼̩̲͓̘͓̜̘̗̼̼̙̳̺͚̜͔̙̘͔̙̣̬̫͉̲̟̙͇̦̯͔̓̓̅͛͌̋͗͗̉͑͆̏͆̉̒̃̀̆͑̈́̌̇̋̍̎͊̀̆͛̀̓̍́̈́̎̓̑́̌͒͊̓͒̉̎̀̅͆̃͊͒̔̓͌͛̓̀́̂̇̔̽̔͘̕͘̚̚̕͜͜͠͠ͅP̸̢̢̨̨̧̢̨̢̧̧̡̢̡̛̛̛͈̪͇̠̪̳̬̠̹̘̝̙̹̰͍̗̤̝̹̻͙̼̖̞̖̦͉͕̰̥̣̦̝̝͖̪͚̞͕͎̫̜̙̝̺͈͈̘̗̞̜̤͍̹̳͕̗̮̲͉̙͓̪͎͚̭̜͉̮͓͙̤̠̮̦̰͙͕̰̲̩͚̲͍̰̥̜̗̜͍̖͓̝̞͙̭̖̩̟̣͉͓̙̰̪̻̹͍͚̬̣͔̭̪̮̥̻̖͓̭̥̻͙̮͖͕̗͉͚͓͔͒̈́̀͋͌͊͒̾̂̀̈́̾̔̉̉̀̂̒̈́͒̆͛͋͒̾̉̾̀͊̅̅̀́̐̄́̅̇̈́̑̑̒̊̉̅̆͛̈̋̍̑̓́͋̏̓̚̚̚͜͜͜͜͜͜͜͝͝͠͠͝ͅͅͅͅḨ̶̧̢̢̢̡̡̨̡̧̧̢̛̩͉͔̟͕͔͚̝̥̮͔͕͍̦͓̩͓̝̹̰̝̜͖̜̝̺̙͈͍̠̦͚̼̲̱͓͔̜̲̳͈̳͔̼̜̳̦͍̲̝̗̹̺͚͉̟͈̭̱̻̹̝̺̩̯̼̟͖͙̝̼͔̎̽̏͒̿̉̀̈́̈́̒͋̌͒́̈́͛͗̀̆̓͑͌̀̔̄̅̏͂̄̿͆̈̌́̎́͆̓̿̅̈́͊̈́̎̈́̽̂̊̊͌̈́̒̐̿͑͗̇̋͒͒͊̀͌̿̚̚̕̚̚͘͘͝͝͠͝͝͝ͅ��̡̼͚̹͉̗͚̜͉̪̞̠̫̯͉͓��̣̜̲͙̮̼͇̟͉̗̻̳͚̺͔̻͔̮̱͈͜ͅẺ̸̛̫͚̠͊̔̅̎͌̋̀͒͂̍̓̿̇̈́̽̈͊̈́̍͛̀́́̑̃̊̽̾̓̆͋́͌͌̾̇̋͋̋̅̈́͒̅̉̏͛̏͋̄̑̂͗͂͗̿͂̑̒̏̌͂͌͛͐̂̓̿̾̋̉̇̀̔͒̀͋̈́́́͐͂̈́̽͌̊̿͛̽̋͋̐͑̋̒̉̔͛̆̏͆̓͑̄͌̇̐́̄͆͒̉̆̂̂͂̿͆͆̚̚͘͘͘͝͠͠͝͝͝͝͠͠͝͠͝͝͠͝R̸̨̢̨̧̛̛̛̛̛̛̛͍̻̦͙͍̝̭͓̱̞̲̤̦͓̪͓̻̠̘̯̙͎̻̤͎̹͛̿̇̎̀̊́̃͑͗̄͐͋̉͊̉̈́͗͒̄̏̋̌̀͌̍̓̉̂̈̑͂̎̌͊̔̍̍́̒̌̋̋͂̓̓̊̌̌͑̿͑̈́̒̒̑͊̊͌̆̄͛̾̄̌͌̇͒̒̌̇̋̌́̽̽̂̽̂̈́̀̍̌̈̎͐̽͌̓̀̔́͊̎̾̀̓͌̄̔̊̋͌̀̎̂̇̊̃͛̆̈́͌̽͑̐͌͊͌̓̈́͗̅̈̇̌͂͂̍̉̋͐̒̅͑͐͆͋̿̋̆̎̎̍̂̋́́͒̂̂̆̆͑̈̉̆̋́͂̈̇̍́̇̒̍̓̋̅͒̑̃̓̄͋̀̌͌̒̀͛͋̔͋͗̆͛͑̑̍̿͑͐̂̾̄̈̆̌͐͌̌̑͋̒̃̏̉̇͒͊̃̈́̀́͛͂̈͐̑̀͂̉̅̇͘̕̚͘̕̕͘͘̚͘͘̕̚͘͘̕͘̕̕̕̚̕͜͝͝͝͠͠͝͠͝͝͝͝͝͝͝͝͠͝͝͝͠͝͝͝͝͝͝ͅ ̸̡̧̢̢̡̢̧̢̡̧̨̧̧̨̧̛̛̛̛̛̛͉̲͔̣͈̯̳͕̤̱͔̪͔͎͍̫̗̟̱̺̫̫͍̲͚̠̪̼̺̦͎̜̯͖̼̦̪̫̣̩͇̱̩̟̟̞̼͕̼̺̤̻̟̬͈̠̪̝̟̳̩̘͕̗̝͚̺͓̲̰̼̙̲̣̳̩̯̱͓̻̲̘͎̪̼͙̯̲̘͈̺͇̞̣̞͖̮͖̮̻̫̺͖͔͔̥̳̩̮̣̞̳̰͉͓̼͕͔̹̜̣̤̟̝̠̳̳̘̝̥̱̮̮̼̜̼͙̙̼̘̞͍̫̥̹͚̫̠̖̣̹̞̠̼͔͕̮͍̣̠̜̟̮̟̯̜̥̮͓̪̰̫̫̥̠̟̩̬̰̖̳͓̠̹̘̥̯̰̗̺͖͖͎͎̞̙̗̗͔͚̲̟͖̹̺̯͎͎̰̯̩͖͔̼̣̦̞̳̟̖̗̦͓͓̱̹̗͙̖̦̖̘͉̠̟͋̓̊̌̈̂̌́̀̀̆̄͊̾͒̔͛͋̀̑͛̾́̎̃̉̊̑̓͑̆̈́̀̈̐̅̎̉͋͊̓̄̉̈́̄̑͑̄̉̈̍̍̇̒͒̾̑̋́͌̀͑́̈̓͑̆̈́̄̆͗̑̉̐̑̅̿̾̓̀̀̈́́̓̓̂̐͐͛̿̍͒͂̈́͗̅̐́́͋̋͂̀̄̉̔͗̇̄͌͒̍̔̏͋̅̑͒̀̓̈́̉͑̃̍̎̏̉̊̊͂̈́̅͌͛͌̅͊̃̏̋̀̈́̀̃́̀̋̈́͆̈̍̈̊̍́͌͑̈́̀̔̈́͛̓̄̓̑̉̍́͑̆̎̃͗̓̌̇͊̎̍̾̽́͐͒̉́̈́̂̈̎͒͐̄̋̉͑̅̿̇̿͐̀́̄̌͌͑̋̏͌̇̿̾̌̿̑̓̓̚͘͘̕̕͘̚͘̚̚̕̚͘̕͘͘͘͘͘̚͘̕͜͜͜͜͝͝͝͝͠͝͝͠͠͠͝͠͠͠͝͝͠͝͠ͅͅͅͅͅ

@eyeofprovidence

[eyeofprovidence]

"YEAH, SURE, BUT WOULDN'T YOU RATHER HAVE SIX OR TWELVE OR SEVENTY-FOUR ANGLES? THREE'S THE BARE MINIMUM!" truthfully, bill prefers the simplicity, but who's he to resist arguing with a stranger who seems to know a little too much? creating problems where there are none is one of his favorite hobbies!

oh, so now he's bringing up the pyramids – which bill got humans to build all those millennia ago in return for fucking up his portal, of course. which this – whatever he is – probably already knows. "LINES ARE STILL A PART OF IT, AREN'T THEY? BUT STILL SEEMS WAY MORE BORING THAN A WHOLE SHAPE!"

sure, the crowd surrounding them seems to think this conversation is stupid, and bill himself remains suspicious of whoever this kid actually is, but he's still having fun. "HOW DO YOU THINK A LINE WOULD MOVE, ANYWAY? LIKE A SNAKE? WOULD IT ROTATE SLOWLY ON ITS SHORT SIDE? JUST FLOAT?"

Oh, wow, this guy was getting worked up about little stuff. He wasn't exactly sure why being a triangle would be bad. They were really strong shapes, geometrically speaking. Good for a lot of stuff, including nachos, usually.

"Huh? Three angles isn't a bad thing, man, it's just a thing," he assured the stranger. "Besides, triangles are cool. You don't build a pyramid with lines. Gotta have triangles. And those things last forever. And even if you were a line, would that be so bad? They're good for something, too."

[eyeofprovidence]

"MAUDE!" his arms spread wide in greeting as he pivots to greet his (one-sided) pal, grin spreading from cheek to cheek. "HOW'VE YOU AND MAL BEEN?" those two have to be his favorite dastardly couple from the last decade! "AND I'M TRYING TO HURRY." bill turns back to the barista, eyes narrowing as the smile briefly slips – "MAKE THAT TWO CUPS AT TWO-TEN." and, his smile reappears as quickly as it faded as he once again faces maude. "IT'S ON ME!"

Maude was not a patient woman, not in situations like these. When it came to her career, working on herself, kidnapping babies, she could plot and plan and take her sweet time to get the results she wanted. But waiting in line? She shouldn't have to wait in line, she should get a pass to skip all of them. She had earned it. "I cannot say I have," she remarked, using all of her self control to bite back another long sigh. "Perhaps you should hurry, lest you want a cup of that two-ten coffee down the front of your shirt."

[eyeofprovidence]

"USUAL? OH, DEFINITELY NOT!" bill shakes his head fervently, laughter accompanying his words lingering just a little too long. after all, five hours is much more than what he usually gets! "DON'T WORRY, YOUR TONGUE WILL REGENERATE! HUMAN BODIES ARE GREAT IN THAT WAY!" less great in others, but it's fun how much damage they can take! "STILL, YOU DON'T REALLY NEED A TONGUE, DO YOU?" his head tilts, brow furrowing – before a grin reappears. "KIDDING! I PROMISE A LITTLE HOT COFFEE WON'T CAUSE ANY PERMANENT DAMAGE!"

Well, that was a blow to the ego, but Harry wasn't that surprised. He knew he needed more than a few hours to be his usual chipper self...or copious amounts of coffee. Which was the goal at the moment. He also couldn't help but notice that this guy didn't look loads better than he must have, and Harry wasn't one to judge too harshly but talk about some hypocrisy. "Is five usual for you? I feel like I try to get closer to seven or eight but, clearly, that's not happening. Not that I doubt yours would wake me up, I fear for my tongue, and I need my tongue."

[eyeofprovidence]

grimacing, he nods slowly, as if sorry to have to break the news – he's definitely not. "OH... YEAH. YOU LOOK PRETTY AWFUL!" like bill is one to talk, with constant deep bags beneath his eyes, still utterly unaccustomed to the requirements that accompany long-term possession of a human body. "YOU'RE REALLY SUPPOSED TO AIM FOR FOUR OR FIVE HOURS, Y'KNOW!" sure, technically, it's more like seven, but five seems too much as is. "BUT THIS IS WHY WE HAVE COFFEE. YOU SURE YOU DON'T WANNA TRY IT MY WAY? IT REALLY WAKES YOU UP!"

Harry wasn't entirely sure if this guy was insane or if he had a point or... both? Tastebuds did regrow and he'd burnt off a fair few of his own taste testing some meals before they were cool enough. And he turned out fine. He was thinking that over when the other pointed out he looked like he needed something, and Harry groaned a little at that. "Wait? No, I got more than that. Definitely closer to three hours...is it really that bad?" Sometimes, his nights got away from him, especially when he was hanging out with specific friends.

[eyeofprovidence]

whatever the lady whispered, bill wishes he heard it based off the look on the barista's face – and it's getting their scorching coffees made. whatever kind of monster hidden behind pretty skin she is, she's perfect. far more fun than most the losers in this backwater town. "I GOTTA SAY, I'M IMPRESSED! MOST PEOPLE HERE LACK TASTES AS ADVENTUROUS AS YOURS." most here would question the nature of his order, not embrace it to the point that they ensure it's made.

"NAME'S BILL," he grins, extending a hand for her to shake, "AND YOU ARE?" a gal who gets shit done, clearly, but due to the restricting nature of being in this sack of flesh, he's not able to instantly know everything about everyone, so he's got to ask the old fashioned way.

Clapping her hands in delight, Sarah turned to the barista in question and gave them a flirty little wink. Her number one method was flirting and it normally did just the trick. And if that didn't work? Nightmares. So she leaned forward, and used her finger to beckon the poor soul behind the counter. Leaning just a bit further to whisper both seductive and insane threats into their ear, she got a single nod out of them before turning back to her new interest with delight.

"Two coffees are coming our way! And if they don't do as I asked...well...I have other ways of getting things to the right temperature if needed. But I don't think they will be saying no again."

[eyeofprovidence]

it's hard to take the gal seriously when she's talking about her annoyance of sugar racers – but who is he kidding, when has bill ever taken her (or anyone, or anything) seriously to begin with? poor tiffany with her little blog and racing gang – it's doubtful she'll even remember that shit after a decade! after a century? ha, she'll be lucky if anyone even remembers she existed at all!

still, he's always up for ruining a few lives to offer some entertainment on the side of the far more frustrating interdimensional portal building – so long as she can offer something in return.

"OH, I CAN DO DISTRACTIONS." stealing the sanity from humans is his bread and butter, with some nightmares and hallucinations and even a little possession if he gets that good 'ol handshake easily breaking down a person to a shell of what they once were... "BUT DO YOU JUST WANT PSYCHOLOGICAL – OR SOMETHING MORE... CONCRETE?" the grin resting across his lips only spreads wider, brows raising.

and, for once, he lowers his voice... leaning closer to tiff – but somehow, his voice still seems impossibly loud. "OR WE CAN JUST KILL ONE OF THEM AND PIN IT ON THE ONE YOU HATE THE MOST. I'D SAY WE COULD KILL WHATEVER SUGAR PAL IS YOUR ENEMY, BUT IT'S MUCH MORE ENTERTAINING TO WATCH THEIR LIFE SLOWLY BE RUINED, YEAH?" it'd be easy! discover their greatest desires, make a deal, possess them... and whoopsie, they wake up with a little blood on their hands!

he leans away, voice again restored to its excruciating volume. "...BUT WHAT ARE YOU OFFERING IN RETURN, KID?" as much fun as the situation may provide, a demon doesn't work for free! and he's got his own personal targets that require more attention than some racers.

god, this man... demon, thing... gave her the creeps. why did he have to be so god damn weird ?? ❛ gross, ❜ tiffany dead-panned, not matching his enthusiasm nor finding herself phased by the attention he may be attracting towards them. tiffany was past caring what people thought about her and who she associated with — she had crafted a well-enough image for herself that she didn't think being in kahoots with a psychopath would do much to it. at his inquiry, she adjusted her weight so it sat in her left hip, folding slender arms over one another as she raised a brow; ❛ the sugar racers are getting out of control, and it's becoming a god damn headache keeping track of them. they're on my ass about the blog, i want them to look in a different direction instead of mine.❜

huffing, she tucked a lock of hair behind her ear, shifting her weight now to the right hip, irritation pulsing behind her eyelids and making them flutter. her request was loaded, wanting more than she was able to give in return, but having leena and taura and swizz and francis and.... fuck, the whole lot of them, up her ass was getting exhausting. ❛ i need them to be.... distracted. ❜

[eyeofprovidence]

oh, this kid – or whatever kind of monster he is – has to be fucking with him. if he had a sliver of logic to his bullshit, sure, he could maybe believe the fool was just really lucky in his guessing, but, c'mon, tracing the air? a triangle wouldn't even make the top 5 for human face shapes!

his nose scrunches, eyes still narrowed, as if squinting will somehow unveil the truth. "HOW DO YOU EVEN COME TO THAT CONCLUSION?" though bill doubts he'll explain himself. "DO I REALLY ONLY GET THREE ANGLES? THAT DOESN'T SEEM FAIR. THAT BARELY MAKES ME BETTER THAN A LINE!"

"Well, I don't decide, he just kinda is..." Fillmore replied with a shrug. Of course, he knew why he thought of this particular buddy as a pentagon, and it was because this buddy was more military than Fillmore had ever been, even when living on base. But eh. Some guys were just pentagonal.

"Mmhm, I'm thinking..." The young man tilted his head to a side, like he was looking at art, the way he always did when really looking at someone. It sort of helped him get the vibes. Then he did what came naturally to him as a next step: traced a few shapes in the air in front of the guy's face. "Triangle," he said with a confident grin. It was mostly in the chin, but the guy was just kinda...angular.

[eyeofprovidence]

"IT'LL SCORCH SOME TASTEBUDS, BUT YOU'LL BE FINE. THEY REGROW FOR A REASON!" what's the point of having a semi-regenerative form unless you make proper use of it? most human bodies can handle some cuts and bruises like a champ – burnt mouths included. "C'MON, I PROMISE IT'S WORTH A TRY! AND YOU LOOK LIKE YOU COULD USE SOMETHING INVIGORATING. HOW MUCH SLEEP DID YOU GET LAST NIGHT, ANYWAYS – THIRTY MINUTES? TWENTY?"

It was early. Earlier than Harry was normally awake and early enough for him to be too lazy to find the energy to make his own coffee. Which meant a trip to the cafe had been absolutely mandatory. Which meant he was far from ready to be auditorily assaulted by someone yelling in the direction of the barista. "At two hundred - no, I can't say that I have but that seems like it's really hot. Like almost too hot to be ingested by anyone if they want to survive." Harry dealt with high temps often in the kitchen so he knew that something that blazing should go nowhere near the esophagus.

[eyeofprovidence]

"I KNOW YOU HAVE THE ONE." as always, bill is a liar, but he projects the confidence of the all-knowing-entity he wants to be even if that was stripped from him upon his arrival to evermore. "LIKE I SAID, YOU'RE A BAD LIAR, KID."

still, pine tree has a point in not trusting him. ha, any person would be an idiot to trust even a fellow human at face value! if someone really trusted a being they knew to be a trillion year old dream demon, they'd be... well, at least half the human population is that stupid! but not dipper, apparently – but it's fine, he can deal with it.

"YOU CAN'T!" a grin rests across the face of the sack of flesh he's still occupying in this dreamscape just because dipper seems to hate it, eyes unblinking. "BUT WE CAN M̴͓͋͛A̵̪͒̇K̸̰̈́E̴͝ͅ ̶̝̠̾͋A̷̧͉͌̓ ̷̨̦͑D̵̥̖̑E̸̛͚͜Ȁ̶̦͝Ľ̴̨̹̃."

on his words, the flames still ablaze in the background glow a bright blue, hand outstretching as dipper finds himself propelled close enough to shake bill's totally-super-trustworthy hand, should he choose. the statues of his loved ones shatter, their cries finally drowned out by roaring cerulean flame – which manifests in bill's hand, too, nearly blinding in its brightness.

dipper didn't need to look at bill's face to know his words had irritated him to some degree, the swell of the landscapes intensity saying it for him. a strange sense of satisfaction momentarily gripped him before he felt the brute of bill's impatience— the pain that had been resonating in his forearm shooting up his arm, piercing his shoulder, searing the vein that ran up the side of his throat. his own strangled cry, alongside the sobs of everyone else he knew and loved, amplified into a harrowing symphony that had him folding back onto the ground, blood-soaked hands once more finding the shell of his ears and attempting to drown out the sounds that he knew to now exist inside of his head. dipper had finally thought he was finding his footing in this god damn town, making sense of most of what he thought he knew, and here was bill, like god damn clockwork, showing up to ruin everything he had worked so hard for.

❛ who says i even have the ONE ?? ❜ the man bellowed, trying to look up at the dream demon but unable to find the strength as every nerve in his body began to fray, the pulses of misery hacksawing at the strength he had left, falling weak to his own exhaustion, fear, and distress. if bill wanted to make dipper suffer, the man would allow him to succeed in doing that— but he was not giving up that journal without a fight. without CERTAINTY. especially not like this. for all he knew, he'd give it to bill and the asshole would go and torture those he loved anyways, and then what ground did he have to stand on ?? dipper was trapped, stuck between wanting to protect the journal and wanting to protect those he cared about... if he refused, and bill went and brought harm to those people, would they be able to understand where he was coming from ?? to forgive him ??

dipper wasn't even sure if he'd be able to forgive himself. the choice felt both simple, and impossible.

❛ — even if i did have it, why would i trust that you're... ❜ dipper's tongue stuck to the roof of his mouth, throat going dry, heaving as another surge of discomfort rocked through him. the eyes on the ground were doing nothing to help his nausea, nor the smells of the deformed townspeople all around him, and he swallowed hard. ❛ how do i know you're going to leave them alone ?? i don't fucking trust a WORD you say. ❜

[eyeofprovidence]

still, little miss gossip girl knows nothing about what really matters – but that's because it's not her business. she doesn't need to know about bill's world-altering aspirations; no, she probably would prefer to stay occupied with her little blog and silly tasks that offer her some fleeting sense of accomplishment!

and so, if she wants to think dipper pines is a waste of time, she can.

"HA! PEOPLE ARE SO GROSS AND WET, AREN'T THEY?" he laughs, loud enough to usually attract attention from bystanders, but the good thing about the noisy, flashy 'ol arcade is that people are too distracted to give a shit about what anyone else is doing! "BUT FINE. FINE! WHAT IS IT THAT YOU REALLY WANT TO DO?" he'll entertain her – just because it might end up being entertaining for himself, too. "KILL IN COLD BLOOD? SLOWLY WATCH AS YOUR ENEMY LOSES THEIR SANITY? RID THIS WORLD OF SHITTY CLOTHING?" knowing tiff, probably all three!

closed starter: @eyeofprovidence !! location: the arcade ( idk don't ask )

❛ — i told you that dipper pines was a waste of time. ❜ tiffany had been working with bill for months now, working on trying to find susceptible people for him to... do whatever weird things it was that he did to them. besides the occasional nightmare or oddly convenient run in, tiffany didn't see much of the man— demon ?? — she had practically sold her soul away to. not even counting the invasion of her blog he had taken, something her loyal and dedicated readers had started to notice. now, she was standing in the arcade, gross, watching the aggressively flashy light of the games reflect off of eyes that seemed to haunt her nowadays. bill didn't scare her, but that didn't mean his gaze wasn't ridiculously harrowing and... creepy. ❛ seriously, bill, between him and this laundry list of nobodies i don't know how you expect me to get anything worth while. the only thing i've gotten is a higher water bill from how many showers i've taken trying to wash the secondhand sweat off of me. ❜ tiffany didn't have to worry about bills but, god damn it, it was the principle.

[eyeofprovidence]

his jaw clenches, eyes narrowing at dipper's stupid confidence despite the nightmare raging around him – and so, bill incites the sobs of his loved ones to swell in volume, the pain in dipper's arm to travel up his shoulder, to his neck as more eyes find their way rooted in his flesh, skin continuing to peel as flame licks at muscle. hopefully, the pain will shut him up.

"BUT YOU STILL HAVE ONE, D̴̩͋O̵̞͠N̵̪̕'̶̯̂T̵͍̓ ̷̙̀Ȳ̸͕Ô̶̪U̶͚̚?" he has to have at least one of the goddamn journals, and that's a start. it's not like bill is going into making this portal blind, either... still, who he really needs is sixer, not his dumbass great nephew who can't even keep track of all the journals, even if he claims it's intentional. "I'VE GOT BACKUPS, KID – AND PLENTY OF T̴̺̬̂̚͜I̷̬̜̍M̶̪̀E̵͚͐́̀͜." the landscape surrounding them speeds up, fire turning to ash, buildings crumbling, beasts trudging in the background merging together and evolving into even more horrific forms.

but still, those sobbing statues remain – and pine tree, with skin now scarred and burnt, yet still rages with the pain of being on fire, unmarked only where those eyes blink, mocking.

"JUST HAND OVER THE ONE, AND I'LL LEAVE YOUR NIGHTMARES ALONE!" a lie, maybe, because messing with pine tree's dreams is too damn funny! "OH – AND I WON'T BOTHER YOUR GIRLFRIEND – SORRY, NOT GIRLFRIEND!" he briefly disappears from the torn landscape, appearing next to the crying statue of blondie and tapping on her hollow head. "EASY ENOUGH, YEAH?" because, like dipper says, not having all three must mean his plan is fucked! sure, maybe it'll make it more difficult than it should be, but he's waited for billions of years before – a few more is nothing!

the worst part of this, of all of this, was that as much as he continued to remind himself that what he was seeing wasn't real... the pain dipper felt in response to it very much was. ❛ i used to be a lot of things, i was a KID,❜ dipper retorted, half-tempted to claim that he USED to be afraid of bill, but the clambering in his heart informed him that the fear was still there. ❛ — and you don't know a god damn thing about what it means to love anyone besides yourself. ❜ dipper's feelings towards pacifica, for pacifica, were already confusing enough... he didn't need this geriatric hell spawn defining them FOR him. dipper thought bill was the worst, but he sure as fuck didn't love bill !! what kind of stupid argument was that anyways ??

once the visual of pacifica shifted, whatever grasp of sanity or composure he had left folded in on itself. dipper was on his feet, moving towards her, the pieces inside of him that had somehow managed to stay intact, keeping him together, splintering apart as pushed his weight forward. though it seemed no matter how hard he ran, how heavy his weight came down upon the eyes blinking beneath him, pacifica never seemed to get any closer. dipper eventually stopped, heaving for breath, unable to look away from the glacial sheen that coated her eyes once they opened— the evident tears that soddened her cheeks, ones of his own beginning to pool.

dipper didn't even want to imagine WHAT the blonde had gone through that night, no doubt reliving the abuse of her childhood, forced to face the very things she ran away from... and for what ?? for all dipper knew, bill could very well be lying, but then he remembered the night him and pacifica had been looking at the christmas lights... the almost mourning expression on her face when she lingered a bit longer at one of the displays. the way she had cried; how he had made her cry. this visual of her was too vivid, too accurate... it wasn't theatrical or over the top, it felt real. the way she appeared as if she was trying to keep it in, the way she was looking at him and saying nothing — it was real.

of course this was about the journals, it always seemed to come right back to them. for once, dipper was thankful for his misconstrued memories, grateful that bill wouldn't be able to sift through them even if dipper opted not to give them up. seeing mabel sent another swell of anguish through him, the emotional toll this entire thing was taking on him spilling onto cheeks stained with his own blood, the crimson on his own hands feeling a bit more symbolic now as he looked down at them. the scarlet had sank into his skin, staining the lines of his palms, but it wasn't dry... and it never would dry. so long as bill was around, even if the blood that was spilt was metaphorical, blood was still blood.

then a strange, almost eery sense of calm washed over the man as a realization dawned on him... amongst the chaos of the landscape, amongst the howling of fire, the sound of a thousand eyelids blinking, the heart-wrenching sobs of two people he cared about more than anything in this world— dipper was able to take a breath. dipper looked up at the journals that had appeared, the gold hands on the front seeming to gleam amongst the chaos, six fingers on each of them, and he almost smiled. ❛ i don't have them, ❜ dipper informed bill without tearing his gaze from the books, his voice quiet, the confession almost cathartic. looking back at bill now, a newfound confidence from ground to finally stand on flashed in his eyes; ❛ you think after what happened last time i'd ever let anyone have all three at once again ?? i don't have them all, bill, which means whatever plan you thought you had is FUCKED. ❜

[eyeofprovidence]

oh, bill likes her. true appreciators of chaos (even so simple as scorching coffee) are all too rare in this hick town, with even the non-humans all too often abiding by their ridiculous notions of "law" and "morality" that never end up actually mattering. but this gal gets it.

"IT'S ON ME!" a grin spreads from cheek to cheek – it'd be his honor to provide a scorched tongue to a fellow devourer of chaos. "... IF OUR BARISTA WILL COOPERATE." his gaze sharpens as he turns to the barista who seems so insistent to defy his order, despite him not even asking them to drink it. "HAVE ANY IDEAS TO CONVINCE THEM?" head tilting towards her, bill eagerly awaits to see whatever her brand of creativity is. he has plenty of his own, of course, but fellow innovative minds are always appreciated.

Sarah was by far easily drawn to chaos. She craved it, she needed it, and with a town like this....it could be hard to find at times. True, pure, chaotic energy that made her want to fall to her knees and worship with blind faith? That was the good shit. For the sake of her sisters she held so much back so that they weren't murdered for their crimes...again. She behaved, she kept her cages clean and boy free even though she desired the carnal nature of torturing a pretty face. And that was fine.

But this? This had to be the best of luck. Watching this man work was inspiring and when he looked at her she couldn't hold back the hysterical giggle that escaped her lips. "I have not...but I desire the burn more than anything." Would he really let her chug it? Could she be so divine? "I want what you're having. "