#BILLSTILL

[jellynut]

Pages 3 & 4 of #billstillau!! Finally!

(4/6)

[truefandemonium]

BILLSTILL BILLSTILL

This AU has consumed my mind

Please accept my humble offering to the Bill still community ( @jellynut I totally forgot to credit u I am so sorry)

a mind ensnared pt. 1

a billstill ficlet

(inspired by the AU by @jellynut)

…

“According to my research, and the readings I’m getting— she’ll be just off the coast— the Laptev Sea,” Ford said, adjusting the map in front of him before folding it and pointing in some random direction ahead of them. Stan tipped the wheel idly, raising his brows at his brother.

“Always thought Nessie would be in Scotland. Like the name. Not Norway.” Stan blinked as snow began to fall in soft flurries onto the boat, finding purchase in the tufts of greying hair poking out from the front of his beanie.

“Russia, Stanley,” Ford corrected in his trademark deadpan, judgemental eyes flicking over the rim of his glasses as he shifted his focus away from the roaring waves in the distance. “We’re headed for the coast of Russia.”

“Yeah, whatever, poindexter.” Stan didn’t exactly mean to say it. He could feel Ford tense every time the word slipped from his mouth. When they were kids— the nickname was friendly, affectionate. But after everything happened… everything with Bill…

You called?

Stan cleared his throat loudly, forcing himself to stare up at the falling flakes head on. “Heck of a storm, huh?”

Thank God— Ford laughed at that. “You mean the gust of cold wind that couldn’t constitute a squall? Yes, quite a storm,” the other man agreed.

Stan smiled. He missed this. His whole life: wasted, without his brother. But now, they could finally make up for that lost time.

Lost time. Boy have I heard that one before. But so have you, right Stanley?

Get out of my head. Stan didn’t notice his own knuckles whitening around the wheel. Get out of my head right now or I’ll—

You’ll what, Mystery Man? Yell at me? Hahahahahahahah—

Say, how much do you remember, Stan? Do you remember your favorite food? How about the shirt you wore everyday for a month while waiting for good ol’ Fordsy to come back from the abyss?

Stan sucked in a deep breath, risking shutting his eyes against the wind as the screaming in his head swelled. He can’t hurt you, Stan told himself, starting to sweat despite the cold.

But you remember the important things, don’t you? Like what Pine Tree gave you before he left for home. Or the secret Shooting Star confessed to you and you alone? Come on, tell me you remember that.

Stan opened his eyes and steeled himself. He wouldn’t let some stupid triangle ruin the rest of his life.

You gotta remember what makes you you, though, don’t you? The fact that you were the reason Ford spent half his life in nightmare dimensions. The reason his childhood was spent looking out for you.

No, no, it’s not true. Is it? Did I destroy Ford’s life? Since the beginning?

The reason he’s never been happy. Not even now—

Stan suddenly doubled over, a sharp pain in his skull causing a bright light to rip through his vision. The steering wheel cracked hard against his knuckles as he tried and failed to find purchase somewhere before collapsing.

“Stanley!” Ford was at his side in an instant, knees on the ground as he placed one steadying hand on Stan’s back, and pushed him to kneel with the other. “Stanley—?”

The two men sat in the snowy light of the moon, Stan wheezing, his vision blurred as sweat began to pool in his gloves and drip cooly down the sides of his face. The waters around them began to spin— or at least it felt that way. Despite the endless space beyond the boat, Stan felt the world closing in on him. All set to the sound of distant wicked laughter.

Ford felt cold to his bones, not from the wind or weather, but the look of sheer panic etched into his brother’s face. Stan had few moments of real fear that he let Ford get close enough to see. This… this was one of them.

Ford eased his hold on Stan and watched him slam his palms onto the deck, shaking hard enough to make his dentures clack together. Keeping one six-fingered hand on his brother’s back, Ford started to speak in a slow, soothing tone.

“Stanley, it’s alright, breathe, Stanley,” he muttered, watching Stan’s eyes flick wildly around, the fear clawing at him. He looked like a wounded animal… more specifically a rabbit.

Caught in a snare: the wire tightening with each sharp breath around his throat, Ford’s heart wrenched at the image. “Stanley.” Ford shifted to cup Stan’s jaw in his gloved hand, applying enough pressure to ease his glazy eyes upward.

“I’m right here,” he whispered. Stan’s gaze flickered with something— recognition, but his heaving didn’t cease. Ford continued, “Breathe, Stanley. I’m here.”

“Bill—” Stan choked out, shaking his head hard, trying to recoil from his brother’s gentle touch.

It was like a blade between Ford’s ribs. The name sent a shudder through his spine and blood flashing behind his eyes. Still, he held firm.

“Stanley.” His voice shook as he pulled Stan into his arms, forcing him to still. “Bill is gone.”

Finally, Stan moved. All at once, he barreled forward, wrapping Ford in a tight hug as he sobbed, the heat of his tears soaking into the exposed hair curling around Ford’s neck.

“He’s gone,” Ford repeated. Part of him wanted to believe it.

Part of him knew, even if Bill was gone. The memories were one thing that would never fall away.

…

[jellynut]

YOOOOOOOO THIS IS SO FREAKING EPIC

I’m absolutely EATING UP the BillStill art, guys 😭😭😭😭❤️❤️❤️

I’m so glad y’all are liking it!!!

only walk to the edge of the sea (that one bill au that i ... can't remember the name of rip) EDIT: IT'S THE BILLSTILL AU LOL I LOVE THAT AU SM

idk i had an idea i guess. i dont like it but we'll live maybe possibly sorta (no chance)

also closeup cause the face was half decent

inspo by @/moroshka__00 on tiktok. idk if they have a tumblr but i really liked how they did the clouds

[jellynut]

Reposting pages 1 & 2 with the updated Bill design >:)

(2/6)

[cup-o-stars]

An inconsistently drawn comic based on the BillStill AU by @jellynut !

I really like this AU for a number of reasons, but my number 1 is the simple horror of having no privacy, and the idea of a character trying to bond with their family while knowing a demon is overhearing/mocking every bit of vulnerability. (I also have a comic about Bill messing with one of Stan's memories because I'm a sucker for psychological mess-ery, but it was too ugly to post!!) Have this drawing which is less unfinished and therefore allowed to be here.

(Edited to fix the constellations)

[s0dabeach]

more billstill au (by @jellynut) drawings, in which ford finally finds out what stan has been hiding. ford is... not happy with him

+ a couple billever au (also by jellynut) sketches

[jellynut]

GOD AAAAAAAAA

Angst my beloved

This is FANTASTIC

Pleaseeee when is ford gonna find out Stan still has the Dorito in his head???? I neeeeed the fluffy angst comfort 😭😭😭

| 1 |

I’m (not) sorry

au by @jellynut (sorry for incessant tagging but I’m obsessed)

[istuilu]

Can't belive no one has made a refence to the "the souls of the inocent" "a bagel" "NO" two bagels" vine with @jellynut 's billstill au

I'd make it myself, but I have too many wips already😭

[truefandemonium]

Welp I’m back and so is Bill

Please enjoy the drabble <3

a mind ensnared pt.2

a billstill ficlet

(inspired by the AU by @jellynut)

TW: self harm

…

It hurt like hell. And Stanley knew hell.

Hell was the lifetime he spent wishing he hadn’t hurt Ford. The lifetime he wasted running from the family he should have made amends with.

The lifetime he could no longer recall most of.

Ford was easing him back into reconnecting with his past— both of theirs. He shared stories they’d experienced as kids in Jersey… the good times they’d shared in high school… moments in between where they didn’t hate each other’s guts.

But it hurt.

Stan pressed his palms against his eyes with a low groan. “I’m sicka this.”

“Stanley, we can stop,” Ford said calmly. “This is for you, remember.”

“Remember. Right,” Stan scoffed. His attitude had plummeted in the last half hour since his headache had grown from a dull ache to a sharp throbbing in his right temple.

Ford rolled his eyes, shutting the scrapbook and shoving it back into the small shelf inside the interior of the boat. The name of the author was scrawled in glitter gel pen on the inside: MABLE PINES. “We can revisit it later,” Ford said, keeping his tone level.

Stan hated him for always being reasonable and kind despite his own short temper. Who gave him the right to be so forgiving?

Sure as blue skies wasn’t me! If anything, I helped him find his fiery side— Ol’ Fordsy never would have hurt you before I came along…

Ford never hurt me. This was never his fault, no matter how much I want to believe it was. Stan shifted to look at his feet, hiding his gaze. He didn’t know if Ford could see it; the way his eyes changed when Bill spoke. Maybe no one could see it… but Stan felt it. It clawed at the back of his brain like long tendrils of flame, licking until they could reach the glassy surface of his eyes, where they’d stare out.

Oh really?

Stan could practically see that damned Triangle grinning now.

Remember this?

Fire. This time, not just behind his eyes. It ate away at the flesh of his back, just at his wing, where the deep burn scar remained. Lately, Stan would run his fingers over the grooves in his flesh, as if he could pry the memory out of his skin, desperate to recall the moment in which he gained the scar.

But now he didn’t need anything to evoke it. It all came back like a tidal wave, floodgates opened and ready to drown him in the deep waters of his own mind.

Stan pushed himself up from the table, his chair clattering to the floor behind him as he reeled. The pain made him dizzy, and Ford’s brow furrowed deep as he looked up at him in concern.

“Alright, Stanley?”

“Headache,” Stan barked.

So worried for you. How sweet. Brotherly love is such a wonderful thing, isn’t it? Why don’t you go ahead and ask Sixer about that scar, Mystery Man?

Flashes of memory threatened to knock Stan to the floor. The deep pain of the burn on his back. The cold of the earth as he fell to his side in agony. A distant cry of, “Stanley… I’m so sorry…”

But why? Why had Ford burned him? Why had they been fighting at all?

ASK HIM.

“Stanley, are you sure you’re alright?” Ford stood, his chair creaking as he pushed it back and stepped around the table toward his brother. “You look—”

“I’m fine!” Stan snapped, grabbing Ford’s collar and holding him at arm’s length to stop him from getting closer. Stan looked up and glared into the soft eyes staring back, his grip tightening.

You’ll never know if you don’t ASK.

“I don’t need to,” Stan whispered, the words falling from his lips against his will.

Ford’s eyes flashed fearfully. “What?”

Panic suddenly gripped Stanley— the man shoved his brother back and growled, “I said I don’t need you. This stupid memory thing isn’t helping me— and neither are you.”

“Stanley, you don’t need to—” Ford lifted his hand and Stan stepped back again.

“Just leave it alone! Leave me alone, and stop trying to help,” Stan ground out, clenching his fists at his sides and pivoting to leave the underbelly of the ship.

Ford yelled something else as Stan left, but he didn’t turn around. The screaming inside his head was too loud to think— to breathe.

On a fishing boat in the middle of the ocean, there weren't exactly many places to isolate oneself. Still, Stan managed to find solace in the crow’s nest. Cold wind buffeted his hair as he tried and failed to catch his breath, chest hammering as Bill raked at the inside of Stan’s skull.

YOU IDIOT

NOW YOU’LL NEVER KNOW WHY FORD GAVE YOU THAT SCAR— YOU’LL NEVER REMEMBER WHAT YOU SAID TO HIM TO MAKE HIM SNAP—

“Shut up, shut up,” Stan seethed, his hands coming up to frame his head, closing his eyes. “I don’t want to know, you stupid triangle. I don’t want to remember…” Stan shook his head, voice dissolving into a whimper. “I don’t want to remember him at all.”

It was the thing that was killing him; the memory of how he’d betrayed Ford at every turn, destroyed his chance at happiness. And Bill wouldn’t stop reminding him of all of it.

“I just wanna forget everything,” Stan hissed into the wind, the breeze taking his words and tossing them to the sea. “Just for a minute…”

For the first time in a long time, there was silence. And then,

I can make that happen.

All at once, Stan felt his body heat. Not the fiery pain of the past, but a gentle warmth like the rays of the sun beating down on him. He opened his eyes and inhaled a sharp, small gasp.

He was sitting in the crow’s nest of the original Stan ‘O’ War on Glass Shard Beach, the hot summer sun baking the wooden boat as it sat on the shore. Stan stood cautiously, raking his eyes over his surroundings.

He was looking for something. Some one. Yet he couldn’t manage to remember who. The memory felt blurry in his mind, like a permanent marker had been scrawled across the image— the thick, choking fumes of the ink making Stan’s vision cloudy and head swim.

And yet he welcomed it. The sensation of not remembering… it was as peaceful as it was oddly painful.

But something was tugging him— calling him. Stan pushed off from the wooden nest and crawled down the rickety wooden slats that served as steps to the main deck, then jumped down to reach the shore.

Normally a leap like that would knock him to his knees— and it almost did— but the pain in his joints seemed to have vanished. He felt like… like a kid again.

A sudden breath of excited air filled Stanley’s lungs as he straightened and examined the terrain. Sure enough, everything was as it was in his childhood. Every stone, every tree— every glass shard.

Except the presence of that unknown entity clawing at the inside of Stan’s mind.

As he wandered the beach, Stan’s anxiety grew, soon overwhelming the joy he’d felt at being back home. Until he saw it.

Saw him.

A faceless figure he knew so well. Part of him knew, anyway.

No name would lend itself to Stan as he raced forward, one hand extended into the air in greeting.

The faceless man sat placidly on a near broken down swing set, rocking forward and back in gentle motions.

Stan’s heart pounded as he got a good look at his face. Or rather, the emptiness that was there. His hands, too— his whole body seemed to flicker with obscuring yellow light. Light that shone so brightly Stan had to back up several steps.

But then it dimmed, and somehow, that was so much worse.

Before Stan stood a stranger. A stranger he’d grown up with, a stranger he loved. A stranger who had done so much for him and he did nothing in return.

“Hey, uh—” Stan started, his eyes trying to focus on the ever changing clawed out space that the man should reside in. “Who are you? This place is— this is Jersey, isn’t it?”

The stranger turned, his face a shroud of scribbled yellow that flickered with his movement.

Then, a sharp, loud, incessant static began to pour from him. No words, just agitated sounds in a garbled mess.

The sounds welled until Stan couldn’t take it anymore. He slammed his hands over his ears and cried, “I’m looking for—”

And then he stopped. Because… who was he looking for? He couldn’t remember. He couldn’t remember.

You wanted to forget. A grinning, gleaming flash of yellow appeared beside Stan. The single eye of the floating angular shape glinted with malice. So now he’s gone. Enjoy the spotlight, Stanley.

No, no, no no no no. Who did he forget? Who had Bill taken from him? And just when he was starting to remember—

But remember what? Even now, the memories were starting to fade. The image of the beach around him started to feel fuzzy in Stan’s mind. Everything but the glimmering shards of sun soaked glass that protruded from every corner of the beach.

The pain in Stan’s head, too, was beginning to grow. The aching that came with trying to uncover lost memories, the splintering sensation as the static noise penetrated his skull.

The sadness he felt when he looked into the space of the stranger’s face where his eyes should be.

The sound of glass shattering seemed to break him. Scrambling through the warm sand below his feet, Stan searched until he frantically pulled a shard of sharpened glass from the dirt.

Without hesitation, he lunged for the stranger, pressing the glass hard against his obscured throat. Stan felt the soft, kind hands of this unseeable man land on his shoulders. Confused. Comforting.

“Who are you?” Stan wailed. “I’m looking for someone! I— I can’t do this without him…”

Heaving for air, breath coming in short bursts as his heart hammered in his chest, Stan bleakly lifted the glass to his face and peered at it, retreating from the stranger.

Back then, he had terrible eyesight. He just never told anyone. He didn’t get glasses until he was in his late thirties and even then he hardly wore them. He didn’t feel like he deserved them. But his— someone— had loaned their own to Stanley. As a child, he borrowed someone’s glasses. Someone he looked up to and treasured and—

Fuck, the pain of forgetting was too much. It was like fire burning down the carefully crafted buildings inside his head. And the smoke was filling up his skull.

Maybe he could relieve the pressure. Clear the smoke and put the fire out.

Remember.

Ever so carefully, Stan placed the point of the glass shard against his right temple, and pressed. The pain was nothing compared to the sounds of agony his own brain was creating in this moment. The glass pierced his skin, drawing dark blood as Stan dragged the edge from his temple toward his eye.

Maybe he’d see better with just one eye.

STANLEY.

A horrible sound rang out. A mix of Bill’s voice and… someone else. As the rest of Jersey fell away, only the figure of the stranger remained: grabbing Stan’s shoulders and shaking him hard.

All at once, Stan’s eyes flew open. He was huddled on the floor of the ship, down below, one eye filling rapidly with blood from the long slice along the side of his head. Hand planted on the ground before him as he gasped and dropped the glass from his other.

“Stanley!”

That voice. Stan spun his body, revelling in the feeling of a familiar six fingered grasp on his shoulders.

And his own face staring back at him. For the first time in a long time, Stanley couldn’t get the words out. Until finally, “Stanford.”

Ford grabbed his brother and yanked him into a tight hug, his breathing frantic and horrified. “Stanley— oh for God’s sake, Stanley— I thought you were— it was like he had— but your eyes— oh thank goodness—” Ford’s rambling soothed Stanley.

His brother. He’d been looking for his brother all this time. And Bill had taken him.

Stan pulled away from the hug and slammed his fists into his brother’s chest, startling him into a sharp gasp. “Stanley, what are you—” he started, wondering and fearful.

The memories came back, finally, finally. The fight. That terrible moment when everything changed.

“You left me behind, you jerk! It was supposed to be us forever.”

And then the ever present searing pain in the flesh of Stanley’s right shoulder. Ford didn’t mean it. He didn’t mean any of it.

But he’d left him. And now he was back.

Stan rasped out, “Don’t ever leave me.”

“You ruined my life.”

Ford’s brows knitted over his eyes. “Stanley, you’re my brother,” he said gently. “We’re in this together.”

“You ruined your own life.”

“Forever,” Stan wheezed. Even through the dripping blood, and slowly darkening vision, Ford’s face was so clear now.

And Stan decided he would take the pain of remembering over the hell of forgetting. Always.

Forever.

[chillinglyadventurous]

Spooktober Day 23 - “Look at the mess you made.”

I believe this is BillStill AU (I don't remember who created it, but I love it).

Ford had wanted to clear his mind. He enjoyed his daily adventures with you and Dipper, but he wanted some alone time, to relive the good old days. He loved his adventures with you. Sometimes, however, he wanted to have his own time. There were certain dangerous activities he just didn't think were safe for you or Dipper to experience.

He had been gone for longer than he had anticipated. He had gotten caught up in an intricate labyrinth beneath the lake. He was excited to tell you and Dipper about it and planned to take the two of you tomorrow.

Once he'd finally made his way home, he couldn't wait to see you, to see the excitement on your face when he told you what he'd found. When he walked in, the Shack was quiet.

“Hello?” he called out, setting his bag down by the door. “Anyone home?” Silence greeted him. His brow furrowed. Normally, he would hear the chatter of the twins, your voice in conversation, or Stan grumbling about something, but, now, there was nothing.

“[Y/N]?” he called again. “Kids? Stan?”

The living room was empty and so was the kitchen. Then, a sinking feeling gnawed at his stomach. He quickened his pace, heading toward the attic. That’s when he found you. You were lying on the floor, unmoving. Dipper and Mabel lay beside you, equally still, as though they had simply collapsed where they stood. Your bodies were oddly posed in the shape of a triangle.

Panic shot through Ford. He rushed to your side, kneeling down. His hands trembled as he checked your pulse. You and the twins were alive, but unconscious, and he had no idea why.

He leaned over you, shaking you gently. “[Y/N], please wake up.” He glanced over at the twins. No response. Ford’s mind raced, trying to think of what could have done this. Was it a curse or a spell?

As he stood up, his heart pounding with fear, a slow clap echoed through the room.Ford turned sharply, his heart stopping mid beat as he saw the source of the sound. Standing in the doorway, illuminated by the dim light was Stan. The yellow glow in Stan's eyes.

“Bill,” Ford whispered, his blood running cold.

Bill grinned wider, tilting his head in mockery. “Well, well, well, look who finally decided to show up. You’ve been a little busy, huh, Sixer?”

“How are you here? We erased you!”

Bill chuckled darkly, taking a step forward. His hands tucked casually in Stan’s pockets. “Oh, come on, Fordsy. You really think you could get rid of me that easily? I’m a multi-dimensional being. You can’t just zap me out of existence.”

“What have you done to them?” He glanced at your motionless body. Ford’s jaw clenched. He could feel rage bubbling beneath his skin, but he knew better than to let Bill Cipher provoke him.

Bill’s grin stretched wider, “Oh, don’t worry. They’re just taking a little nap. I needed them out of the way.” He waved a hand lazily at the scene before him. “Look at the mess you made me make.”

Ford’s eyes narrowed, confusion and fury swirling inside him. “What do you mean?”

Bill spread his arms, still wearing Stan’s twisted grin. “You made me do this. All those years of chasing after things you weren’t supposed to know, I helped you find, smart guy! You just couldn’t help yourself, could you?”

Bill laughed. The sound was horrific, Stan's gruff laughed mixed with bill's high-pitched shriek. Ford put himself between your unconscious bodies.

"We had a deal, Stanford," Bill insisted.

Ford’s heart ached at Bill’s words, but he shoved the guilt aside. He wouldn’t let this monster break him. “If you’ve come to kill me, just do it. Leave them out of this.”

“Now, where’s the fun in that? You think I’d come all this way just to end things quickly? No, Sixer, I want you to suffer. I want you to see the people you care about get hurt and it's all because of you.” Bill tsked, wagging a finger.

Ford’s breath hitched, refusing to show fear. “You won’t win, Bill.”

Bill’s eyes gleamed with delight. “I already have.”

Ford was torn. He wanted to protect you, protect the twins, but he couldn't hurt Stan. One hand hovered over the gun on his hip, fingers twitching as he struggled with his own logic.

Bill strolled closer, his grin never fading. “Oh, don’t worry, IQ. I’m not going to kill you, yet. I want you to watch me take everything from you. Your brother Your girlfriend. The kids. One by one, and you’ll know it’s because of you.”

Ford’s vision blurred with rage, but before he could even think of a response, Bill snapped his fingers, and the room began to warp. The air felt heavy, the walls bending and distorting as reality itself twisted around him.

[inkyrainstorms]

THANK YOU SO MUCH!!! Drawing them was super fun, so ty for the motivation and inspiration jsifjsijfisfhhbgj :D <3 Stan's hair deserves to be floofy and long

Stan deserves nice things, and getting to torment Bill is the greatest gift of all in his book

based on the Billstill au by @jellynut! You guys should totally go check it out, it's so cool and angsty and somehow my monkey brain took that idea and made it Stan tormenting Bill forevermore. (This has spiraled rapidly not its own au of an au based on an earlier idea I had once) (might draw more of this au and that one who knows)

This has been going on for at least 15 hours straight, and Stan is having the time of his goddamn life watching Bill suffer

And then Bill gave Stan horrendous night terrors

And then Stan bought a giant bag of nachos and ground them up into crumbs and dumped them in the sea or some shit

Transcript and full image under cut

Bill, floating intangibly: You're a loser, Mac

Stan, looking up from his magazine: Yeah? And you're an interdimensional demon dumb enough to die in my head. You're the biggest idiot I know, and I know me

[wilhemslog]

I'll be fixing this blog up for AU stuff - both mine and a few others I'm really obsessing over (billstill & reverse portal au)

I'll also post details about my AU once I get a name for it

[jellynut]

Happy Halloween!

I’m gonna finish the next two #billstillau pages before I hit the hay >:)

[jellynut]

AAAAAAA WHAT THE HECK THIS IS SO GOOD!!! I LOVE THE HUMAN BILL 😭❤️❤️✨✨✨

THANK YOU SO MUCH THIS IS WONDERFUL

Little drawing

For this drawing I was inspired by the "Bill Still Au" created by @jellynut

I love your art @jellynut , and I can't wait to see how this universe you've created can continue to develop.

[heideez]

hot take (and obviously this is an irrelevant opinion bc do what u want and enjoy what u want) but i am not a fan of billstill :))

[kalitor]

RT @kalitor: Mueller Probe Collapsing, 2020 https://t.co/e2I6cZ1arx via @billstills