#I need to draw him a trillion times

[umactuallycallie]

nothing finished as of yet but ludwig. ludwig ludwig ludwig.

[pyyl0n]

I just think he would be so cool as a dragon

[buggieboyofficial]

I made a reverse au for @void-dude 's Shapes and Pines au!

Their au makes me so happy! :))) I thought it would be interesting to see them reversed. (I wrote a LOT on here so I'm going to transcribe it all at the end of this)

Honestly this was supposed to be a joke and then I kept drawing and thinking about them. This admittedly got out of hand.

To make up for it, have some Tad Strange and Bill!

Tad: Ow.

Bill: Look, Isn't it beautiful?

Tad: Bill, I shouldn't be seeing anything but a doctor right now.

(Full transcription under the 'keep reading')

1969 Tad Strange is 15 years old. (He looks old for his age and uses this to his advantage) He lost his eye in a firework accident when he was 12 and now, he has a fear of fire and a glass eye. Billium is 12 years old and is about to make a really bad mistake. His eye was missing at birth and can't get a glass eye without surgery. Their parents work together and Bills Parents asked Tad to babysit Billium when they are away to help with his bullies. They become friends. (Mini Comic 1) Billium- "You don't GET IT TAD!" Billium- "I was BORN a freak." Billium- "I can't pretend to be normal because I don't know HOW." Tad- "… Huh."

2012 Bill is a Biologist After his family home burned down, killing both Tad and Bill's families, Bill became interested (obsessed) with necromancy. He started with studying human biology, but his work hit a wall and he became desperate for more knowledge. He summoned Sixer for answers after searching for years trying to find a being that could help him. Who knew that the demon of knowledge could be so susceptible to flattery? It's probably because Sixer doesn't get summoned very often.

(Mini Comic 2)

Dr. Bill: Looking extra dexterous today Sixer~

Sixer: *AHEM* Thank you Dr. Bill, let's get back to work now.

Tad is a Car Salesmen He lives in his tow truck just in case he gets chased out of town for selling shitty cars at an increased price. He had lived alone for a long time before Bill tracked him down 4 months ago. Bill apologized and said some cryptic shit about fixing everything. Then he looked around at Tad's tow truck/home and left a paper with weird circles on it and an incantation. He said "Use this to get a better place, you'll need one soon" Then he left. Tad didn't summon Ley until 2 months ago when he almost got shot selling a fake Lamborghini to a gang leader. He was then chased out of town again.

1 Trillion years ago, Sixer and Ley were in the 2nd dimention.

Sixer created a safe(ish) portal to the 3rd dimension which he was able to do because he had one eye that saw in 3d and one that was in 2d.

Ley could see it out of the corner of his eye like Tad did, but doesn't like to look at the world beyond. He accidentally broke the portal Sixer made while trying to use it and now everyone is gone.

(Mini Comic 3)

Sixer: "Look Ley, a Shooting Star!"

Ley: "WTF is a star and why is it shooting at us?!"

[adams-angels]

Hello dear writer! Whenever you have time would you consider doing a fluff and maybe smut piece about how Adam would be on a restaurant date? I’m so curious how he would act since they didn’t have dates when he was alive a trillion billion million years ago.

And Valentine’s Day has me way up in the feels 🥹

Thank you bebe 🩵

A bit late for Valentine's day but better late than never babes 😎 this was longer than I was expecting 🫢

💖 Please send me requests! Send me your own headcanons! I will draw! I'm obsessed rn!💖

Valentines

It's been a while since Adams been on a "date" if you could even call it that. The last "date" he had was with Eve in the Garden of Eden. So... Yeah. A while might be an understatement. He also hated the day. Like many holidays. Why should SaInT vAlEnTiNe get a whole holiday after him?! Adam is the ORIGINAL dick. If anything there should be a holiday celebrated for HIM. But, whatever. You were into it. And he was into you.

He was so nervous when he asked you out for Valentine's day. He waited until last minute before finally getting the courage to ask. Ten o'clock at night he frantically knocked at your door. You hurried to answer, the panic filled your body at the knocking. It was desperate, like someone needed help. When you opened the door and saw a panting Adam you were confused. Was he hurt? Before you could say anything he put his hand up to your face signaling you to not speak as he caught his breath. It was odd why he was out of breath. He flies everywhere. Did he run? "Be- huff- will you- jesus, fuck- pant-" his hand were on his knees as he choked on his breath. "Ada-" hand in your face. Rude. He straightened himself out, at least as much as he could in the small apartment hallway. The apartment was made for smaller Winners not 8 foot Giants like Adam. "Be my Valentine?" He panted out. Of course you said yes! What can you say? You've been crushing on him for, like, ever! You never picked up that he likes you back. Even though he was never subtle. "Cool- pant- text you the deetz." He shot you some finger guns before leaving.

So now it's Valentine's day! 💘 Cupid's shot his arrow and hit you. You're feeling fun, flirty, and feisty. You put on your cutest outfit and checked yourself in the mirror. Is cute what you're going for? It's your first date. But it is Valentine's day. You don't wanna be prudish. You change into something a bit more revealing and again checked yourself. This might be a bit too sexy.. slutty even! You don't want to give the impression that you put out of the first day! Even if you do. No. This needs to be perfect. You think to yourself... "I bet Adam isn't having this much trouble."

You weren't wrong. Adam was much more relaxed. Too relaxed. Why would he be nervous? He's the man. In fact he was out right now looking at new guitars. When he left the store he saw Valentine, surrounded by his Cupid's. "Augh." Adam grunted, not wanting to interact with the Saint. "Adam!" Shit. "A little birdy told me you've got a Valentine's this year. It's been what? Centuries?" Valentine laughed. Adam rolled his eyes, then glared at him. "Yeah? So what? I figured it's a good way to get free pussy." Adam shrugged as a cocky grin formed on his face. The Cupid angels surrounding Saint Valentine cringed. "Oh, Adam. Come now! This is a holiday of love and romance. Not cheap pickups!" The man placed a hand on Adam shoulder which he immediately shrugged off. "So, are you going anywhere special? Have you bought the lucky angel flowers? Chocolates? A gift of adoration?" "Uh.. what?" "You haven't bought them anything have you?" The man laughed, putting his hand on Adams shoulder again pulling Adam closer. "Good luck getting fucked, playboy." He hissed with a wicked smirk. Valentine released Adams shoulder laughing. "Happy Valentine's days!" He said before flying away with his cupids. "Motherfucker!" Adam's flew off to the nearest store to get you some flowers.

When he arrived the flower section was bare. Maybe one half dead rose. "What the hell?" He flew all over the store looking for anything Valentines related. "No, no, no!" He stopped in one of the aisles before finding worker. "Hey! Where the fuck is the stuff?" "S-stuff, sir?" Adam gestures around the store. "You know! The fucking Valentines shit! Where is it?!" The poor retail worker fretted telling him there was nothing left. "V-valentines day is o-one of the most popular days of the year sir... There's nothing left.." "NOTHING LEFT?!?!" Adam yelled. His voice booming around the store causing shelfs to shake knocking almost everything off. "WHAT THE FUCK DO YOU MEAN NOTHING LEFT?! I NEED SOMETHING FOR TONIGHT!!!" "I - I'm sorry, sir!" The poor angels voice shuddered. Adam groaned, balling his hands into fists. He was about to leave before he noticed a bottle of soda that hadn't fallen. He pushed it off the shelf for good measure before storming out of the store.

He wasn't going to spend all day looking for shit of this shitty holiday. He hated it. This was dumb! He's gift enough. Still, he takes his phone and texts Lute

"URGENT! flowers! Plz get 4 me thx dngrtits"

That'll do. He heads home to get ready for your date.

～⁠♡✧⁠｡ I really hope you enjoyed! I'm not a writer by any means but I appreciate any support I receive so thank you for reading! ｡✧⁠♡～⁠

The time comes and Adam is waiting outside of your apartment building, he's not walking up all those stairs again. He was feeling cool. Calm. Collected. Until he saw you. His hands started getting clammy, his heat racing. You look so pretty. You of course found the prefect in-between of cute and sexy for your outfit. "Heeey, you could of made an effort." He joked. You frowned. You thought you did well. He clears his throat. "Let's go." He wiped his hands on his robe before taking flight with you following after.

You both arrived at the restaurant. Neither of you stop on the way. It was awkward. He walked in first, he didn't hold the door open for you. Rude. Once inside you noticed the restaurant was jam packed. Adam also noticed this and froze. "Good thing you booked, right?" You said, playfully, hoping to break some tension. "Uh... Yeah... Wait here, surgartits." He walked over to the host. "I need a table for two." The host scoffed. "Yeah, sure. We've got one available tomorrow." Adam was fuming. This was all going wrong. This can't go wrong. "Do you fucking know who I am?!" He raised his voice. "I'm fucking ADAM! I'm the fucking man! And I want a damn table!" You walk over. "Adam?" "What, bitch!? Fuck! Can't you see I'm busy?! I'm getting us a table!" He yelled at you. No. Nope. You're too good to be yelled at. This was meant to be fun. Fuck this. You put your hands in the air. "Nope. I'm out." You turn on your heels and exit the restaurant. "Wait- no, y/n." He looks as you exit then back at the host. "I'll ruin your fucking life, cunt." He hissed before flying out of the restaurant.

He looks around and you were no where to be seen. "Fast fucker. AUGH!!!" He stomped his foot covering his face with his hands. If he wasn't wearing his mask he'd be pulling his hair.

You got yourself home. Fucking shit day. Dumb idea. You don't even know why he asked you. The whole thing was dumb. Everything about it was dumb. You collapse onto the couch, sulking. It doesn't take long before there's a knock at the door. Adam you suspect. You roll your eyes before peeling yourself off the couch. Opening the door you see Lute. Huh. "Uh.. hi?" "Adam requests your presents. Put on this blind fold." She hands you a blindfold. "What?" She didn't repeat herself. She never does. You groan, knowing she won't leave until you do it so whatever. You put the blindfold on and lute takes your wrist and flies off with you ragdolling.

Once your feet touch the ground she lets go of your wrist. Leaving you there blindfolded. "Uh.. you can take that off now." You do, to see a candle lit picnic layed out. It was adorable, there were fairy lights on the trees. Adam stood there, awkwardly, with a bunch of your favourite flowers. How did he know? Lute. "Uh. Surprise.." he handed you the flowers. "Sorry, about the restaurant. Fucking idiots double booked or something.. I don't know." He shrugged. You know it wasn't true. He didn't book, you know that. But you smiled. "Thank you, Adam. This is much nicer." He smiled and stretched. "Well, what can I say? I know what I'm doing."

You sat on the blanket, Adam did also and popped open a bottle of champagne. "I got the good stuff." You smile at the gesture although you always thought champagne tasted disgusting. He got all the good stuff, strawberries and chocolates. Cheese board. Cute little cakes. "This is all very well thought out. How did you get this so quickly?" You asked. He shrugged with a smirk. "I'm just that good, babe." Lute. This was more his style anyway. Outside, under the stars. It reminded him of the Garden.

"so, this was fun." He rubbed the palm of his hands on his knees. "I'd much rather not do this Valentine's bullshit though. Maybe next time we can just... Do it whenever?" "I'd like that. Although, this Valentine's day has turned out pretty perfect." You smile. "Well. I am perfect so." He smirks at you. You don't want to stroke his ego anymore than you already have. You roll your eyes before quickly giving him a peck on the lips. "you're alright, I suppose." You took his sweaty hand in yours and led down, he followed. You both watched the stars in silence. He'd gently squeeze your hand every now and then, you'd squeeze back.

"Happy valentine's, Y/N."

"Happy valentine's, Adam."

[yusume-the-writer]

𝐇𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐬 𝐚𝐛𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐡 𝐁𝐮𝐫𝐧𝐞𝐝𝐞𝐚𝐝

ʀᴇǫᴜᴇsᴛ ᴍᴀᴅᴇ ʙʏ @fellow-anime-weeb927 . ᴛʜᴀɴᴋ ʏᴏᴜ sᴏ ᴍᴜᴄʜ ғᴏʀ ᴀsᴋɪɴɢ, ᴀɴᴅ ɪ ʜᴀᴠᴇ ᴛᴏ ᴀɢʀᴇᴇ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ᴍᴀsʜ ɴᴇᴇᴅs ᴍᴏʀᴇ ʀᴇᴄᴏɢɴɪᴛɪᴏɴ, ɪ ʜᴏᴘᴇ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴛʜᴇ ᴀʀʀɪᴠᴀʟ ᴏғ sᴇᴀsᴏɴ 2 ᴍᴏʀᴇ ᴘᴇᴏᴘʟᴇ ᴊᴏɪɴ ᴛʜᴇ ғᴀɴᴅᴏᴍ.

ɪ ᴅᴇᴄɪᴅᴇᴅ ᴛᴏ ᴘᴏsᴛ ᴛʜɪs ᴏɴ ᴍʏ ʙɪʀᴛʜᴅᴀʏ, sᴏ ɪ'ᴍ sᴏʀʀʏ ɪғ ɪᴛ's ɴᴏᴛ ᴛᴏ ʏᴏᴜʀ ʟɪᴋɪɴɢ.

(ᴇɴɢʟɪsʜ ɪs ɴᴏᴛ ᴍʏ ɴᴀᴛɪᴠᴇ ʟᴀɴɢᴜᴀɢᴇ, sᴏ ɪ'ᴍ sᴏʀʀʏ ɪғ ᴛʜᴇʀᴇ ᴀʀᴇ ᴀɴʏ ɢʀᴀᴍᴍᴀᴛɪᴄᴀʟ ᴇʀʀᴏʀs ᴀɴᴅ ɪғ ᴛʜᴇʀᴇ ɪs ᴏɴᴇ, ᴘʟᴇᴀsᴇ ᴛᴇʟʟ ᴍᴇ, ɪ ᴡᴏᴜʟᴅ ʙᴇ ɢʀᴀᴛᴇғᴜʟ ᴛᴏ ɪᴍᴘʀᴏᴠᴇ ᴍʏ ᴇɴɢʟɪsʜ ᴀɴᴅ ʏᴏᴜ ᴅᴏɴ'ᴛ ɴᴇᴇᴅ ᴛᴏ ᴜsᴇ ᴀ ᴛʀᴀɴsʟᴀᴛᴏʀ)

*╔═══❖•ೋ° °ೋ•❖═══╗*

Mash's love language and mostly quality time

↑ If you are in the same room, it will be a comfortable atmosphere while you do completely different things or do something together.

You and Mash will often make profiteroles or other types of desserts together in the kitchen.

↑ Well you will do the other desserts while Mash helps you by delivering the items, since everything he cooks becomes a profiterole

↑ After that you sometimes eat together in the kitchen or have a picnic in an isolated area of the forest while talking about your day or random things

You try to make sure the owls don't hate the mash, but it typically doesn't work out… but at least they don't attack you when you're together when you enter their area.

Your relationship is a secret for most people in the school. Well, that's because you don't act much like a couple in front of people, since you show mutually out of sight of people.

↑ So it was a surprise for the group that you and Mash were dating

↑ And when they found out, oh… boy, prepares to receive a trillion questions from Dot and Lemon, Finn will congratulate them, Lance won't care at all and Tom will wish them your relationship lasting just like a bamboo.

As I mentioned before, he doesn't do much PDA just hold his hands, when it's just the two of you there and a different story.

↑ As I said before, you and Mash may be doing different things, but in the same room, but you also have your moments of affection sessions

↑ A habit you have and Mash lies on top of you with your head buried in the curve of your neck while you read a book, or you lie on top of the mash while the two of you take a nap

↑ If you play with his hair while he's on top of you, he'll fall asleep quickly and when that happens he holds you really tight making you get stuck underneath him, but on the positive side you can see how cute he is when he's sleeping

↑ Another habit too and that every time you want to reward him for something you always give him a kiss on the cheek (often he wants it to be on his lips)

↑ But if you want to see him a blushing mess, just make a kiss attack all over his face except his lips, and at the end of a big breathy kiss on his lip as soon as you get out of the kiss, so you can get air, Mash will have his eyes wide and his face will be a red that can rival Daut's hair tone

There was a time when you were making profiteroles and you were waiting for them to bake, you suggested dancing as a way to pass the time and of course Mash ended up saying he didn't know, but you said you could teach him, so you started dancing and it was a surprise that he actually was good

↑ Without you realizing it, it has become a habit for you to do this when you are bored and alone.

Study meeting. The reason? He needs.

↑ As we know, Mash is not great at things that don't have to do with using his muscles, and he also breaks down when he receives too much information at once without rest, sooooo you guys have a study meeting on the weekends so that he can better understand the Subjects

↑ Is easy? No, it's not. It is worth it? Yes. Because surprisingly he managed to get an 80/100!!!! (Isn't there the time when Marvina got mad at Mash and her eyes went bulging? She made the same expression while correcting Mash's test and seeing that he got 80/100) When he showed you that, he was looking like a child showing his parents a drawing he made.

↑ Please tell him that you are proud of him and that you give him a lot of attention and affection, he doesn't show it, but he is very happy and grateful that you helped him and had a lot of patience to endure and teach him

Please teach him how to open a door correctly (the doors will be grateful for this gesture)

When Mash writes letters to Pops, he mentions you in almost every letter (Pops was surprised when Mash wrote to him that he got a good grade with your help).

*╚═══❖•ೋ° °ೋ•❖═══╝*

[h0ney-mochi]

I think I've seen this a trillion times on tiktok but I genuinely need a ff written about it... Y know how xiao tells us to call him whenever we need right, how about he's away with some business (fighting demons, meeting zhongli and what not) and we kinda.. Miss him... We miss him a lot. So as we do our thing ✨ we moan his name a bunch of times, he would be so blushy and cute <3

- side note: may I be 🌠 anon?

Xiao x reader ;; readers pronouns not mentioned

SMUT/NSFW CONTENT (afab reader, masturbation / touching yourself, Xiao going down on you)

A/n: OHHH yeah, I've written something similar to this before!!! The idea is so nice though, he appears in your room and he's flabbergasted?? Flustered?? Ahhh... lovely. And YES you can be 🌠 anon, WELCOME WELCOME <3 /not proofread so sorry if any mistakes

Minor writer, dni if uncomfortable!

You missed him alright. Yes, you knew he was definitely busy, but man.. you hadn't seen him on such a long time. Or gotten his touch.

Xiao did tell you that you can call his name whenever you needed him though.. and you technically did need him right now..

As you're trying to please yourself on your sheets, his name falls past your lips multiple times. Imagining how he'd bite you, how you'd kiss him so sweet... trying to get off from the thought of him.

Somewhere in Liyue, Xiao has finished dealing with monsters. Immediate worry in his mind when he hears the calls of his name from a familiar voice.

From you.

Doesn't hesitate to appear where you are, drawing his weapon. He scans the area, confused on how it's in one of the rooms in Wangshu Inn.

But once he turns around, he's met with a sight.

Sight of you on the bed, legs spread, hand between them and face flushed. His eyes widen in quick realization.

Oh.

"Xiao-!" You stop your movements, staring back at him. Well, yes, this is what you wanted, but you couldn't deny that it was also pretty awkward.

His face is heating up as he's trying to breathe. You're calling his name? While touching yourself?

He breathes in deep when he quickly comes closer to you, getting on that bed. Will you let him? Let him help you? You did call for him after all.

You're blinking at him while he positions himself between your thighs.

"Can I—" Xiao starts to speak, but stops, watching as you spread your legs a little more, making him break eye contact.

"Yes," you whisper, answering his unfinished question, "Please."

He does not waste any time, taking off one of his gloves and shoving fingers inside you. Oh, you're this needy? For him? From him?

Xiao looks at you for a moment before leaning down and putting his tongue against you. He's quick to get to work, that's one. Your head falls back as a high moan escapes you.

Archons, you missed him. And it looks like he missed you too, from the pace of his tongue and his fingers. His eyes get hazy the more you moan and squirm from him.

Oh, he needed the taste of you right now. And you needed his tongue. <3

[constellationmelody]

Bill Cipher is very fortunate. He may hate the Axolotl, but They are the only being in all dimensions of creation to shown him empathy. Perhaps because they are omniscient, They seen and understand everything Bill has been through and what he’s become. They harbor no hatred toward him. While everyone believes Bill doesn't deserve a second chance, this benevolent cosmic entity looks upon this horribly traumatized 'demon' who suppresses his pain by spreading his unique brand of fun for a trillion and twelve years; Despite the destruction and the countless lives he’s ruined, the Axolotl still deems him worthy of compassion. And that warms my heart.

Although the Axolotl was disappointed that Bill only used the incantation to selfishly save himself rather than using it to truly redeem himself, It's as good as any give him the help he needs.

This post when on longer than I expected:

Initially, I thought it couldn't be agape love, as that kind of love by its definition is unconditional and selfless, expecting nothing in return. But it was implied that they would help under their conditions or not at all and just let him fade away or hang out in limbo.

Allowing him to die would arguably be the simpler and safer route, sparing all dimensions the fear of his eventual return. Giving him a second chance could easily be seen as enabling him to wreak havoc again. Even when they were in each other’s presence, the Axolotl seemed distant, and somewhat reluctant to lend their help. That there's limits to their generosity because why should they go through this again when, eventually, Bill will appear before them for 'another chance'?

Yet, I believe their actions come from a place of genuine care. Setting boundaries and expectations on what they expect Bill to do to grant that second chance is fair, even Bill agrees to it (before realizing it was therapy, but he did say he's up for a challenge). If it is to believe that their true identity really is the Aztec god, Xolotl, a god who's attributes are change and rebirth, then turning away someone who is broken without offering a chance for redemption would be contrary to his divine responsibilities. Whether this remains true or not, if they still claim their former title and duties.

Agape love extends to all—even to Bill. The Axolotl may not expect anything in return personally, but by prioritizing his needs, they show him the highest form of love.

Clearly, they see potential in him to change and truly heal, ensuring he doesn’t carry his disruptive behavior or lingering guilt into the next life. To most, Bill is a lost cause, someone not worth saving, and many would have no qualms about letting him die. Yet, the Axolotl believes they can draw out the good in him, even if it takes an eternity. And really, who wouldn’t want someone to have faith in them when they’ve lost all faith in themselves.

It's no wonder they are revered. In time, Bill will thank them.

I'm not sure I just kept repeating myself or if I made any sense or if anyone would care but I just wanted to convey my thoughts on why I'd like to see these two converse. Maybe I'm the weird one who, after finishing reading the book, One of the things on how I describe the ending of the book is heartwarming.

The Axolotl when someone tells them why Bill Cipher should be given a second chance:

After writing this and reflecting on this, I can see myself shipping them. I can imagine Quality time and Words of affirmation as how they express their love considering it will be how it also heal Bill during his time in the Theraprism. With due time and guidance, as Bill begins to recover, they’ll reach a point where they are able to be in each other's presence without tension. The Axolotl’s peaceful presence keeps Bill grounded and provide a deep sense of calm as they watch the stars. It's truly a slow burn; Bill's resistance towards treatment is ironclad, but through the Axolotl's unwavering demonstration of patience and empathy, Bill would eventually crave for their companionship. Hopefully, by then, he'll learned what it means to have a healthy relationship. I want to draw interaction of them showing compassion to Bill as He resists their attempts. I imagine that Bill see Kindness without intent of wanting anything in return as an alien concept.

He'll probably feel uncomfortable out that someone is being kind to them without a nefarious motives. Or, Bill pretends to go along with the Axolotl's 'help,' attempts to trick them without actually learning his lessons. Of course, the Axolotl sees right through his schemes but plays along. I need more of their interactions! I'll probably make another post about this, this post is already long enough.

[callipraxia]

Further Interview Analysis: the "Ford Plan," and Bill's Blind Spot

I didn’t sleep again the night after the “musical Weirdmageddon” post, and wrote a lot of loopy stuff the next day, and posted none of it. But then I slept, so yay, time for an attempt at some actual analysis! Original interview is, as before, here, with credit and thanks to @fordtato and @hkthatgffan.

"I think that Bill was trying to find Ford, but I think- I always think of Bill as like, this guy who has, like - you know, he’s stirring the pot of soup that is the Ford plan, and he’s got like 900 pots of soup across the universe of different things he’s working on, and at any given moment, he’s so cocksure that it’s all gonna work his way eventually."

Bill’s a trillion years old, so it’s like, Ford disappearing for thirty years is like- [snaps fingers] is like somebody saying they’re ghosting you and then texting you the next weekend, you know what I mean? He’s like- he’s like [handwave] “Ford’s gonna- Ford’s gonna be back. Ohh, [air quotes] we had such a big fight, Ford’s sooo mad at me,” oh, you know, “our will-they-won’t-they-take-over-the-universe relationship, like, he’s gonna- he’s gonna march off in a huff, and he’ll be back, ‘cause we’re- is Ford gonna find anyone else in the multiverse that strokes his ego as well as me?” Is there anybody else in the universe that’s gonna make Ford feel as important as Bill? No, of course not, Ford needs validation, and so Bill knows Ford’s gonna be back eventually. 

...so, Bill still had a "Ford plan," did he? Like, some active plan that involved using Ford in some way to escape the Nightmare Dimension? Interesting.

I always interpreted his cliche-villain-gloating routine when Ford confronts him about being a liar as the point where Bill was ready to discard Ford altogether. If he had wanted to - if he could have been bothered - after all, he probably would have had a very high chance of somehow manipulating Ford out of the realization that he'd been played: Ford had been literally worshiping Bill a few days earlier. He was basically a cultist, and he was not only someone who'd spent way too long talking to Bill, he was also someone who could only confront Bill on Bill's turf, so to speak. But Bill didn't even try to turn it all around, because (ran my reasoning) he'd gotten what he really needed: the Portal existed, and you can't close Pandora's box. The technology was there. It would not, from Bill's trillions-of-years perspective, have taken very long to find some way to manipulate someone else into rebuilding the Portal once it existed even given Ford's attempts to hide the plans. Bill was scribbling on the Journal in invisible ink after Ford's last entry, before he buried it but after he wrote all about his plans in some detail, even drawing a map to J2. The Journal separation plan would have been laughably easy for Bill to work around. So at that point, I assumed that the only reason Bill didn't arrange for Ford to - if I may be blunt - kill himself the first time he blacked out was because Bill was basically getting off on the psychological torture and wanted to see how long he could keep it going/enjoy himself until Ford literally died of exhaustion. Ford certainly seems to think he'd have been killed if he had lost the game of 'hide and seek' in the asteroid field. I thought the idea that "Bill used Ford until he used him up, and now he was done with him" was basically canon, and that Bill paid no more attention to him from that point onward than you would pay to a broken Solo cup in the trash until Ford did something unexpected - ie, survived the Multiverse, came back with a death ray, apparently took out a few Henchmaniacs, almost shot Bill himself, and then survived the experience.

But here we have what I suppose amounts of authorial commentary which seems to directly contradict the idea that Bill didn't even regard Ford was worth finding and/or killing. Bill was looking for Ford, all those years - not all that intently, apparently, or really very long from Bill's point of view, of course, but still - and Bill still had a plan for Ford. Bill also, if I'm reading that right, seems to have really just expected Ford to come back, of his own free will, to join him eventually, not to kill him.

Of course, it's possible I'm reading that wrong, and Bill just knew that killing him would also give Ford a massive ego boost and that Ford would have to eventually reenter his orbit in order to attempt to do so. It's also true that Bill just not being able to accept rejection in no way, by itself, implies he wasn't planning to go "hahahaha, no" and kill Ford fifteen seconds after he finished begging Bill for forgiveness. But the 'Ford plan' bit seems to undermine that. Let's assume the hesitations and half-sentences are Hirsch improvising, not Bill actually cutting off a thought he might not like the end of. So was Bill genuinely never planning to kill Ford after he bumbled into the Nightmare Realm back in '82? And if not - what in the world was he planning to do to him once one of the Henchmaniacs caught him, then? And why do I have the feeling that whatever it was would have made murder seem both a) kind and b) not at all disturbing by comparison?

Also gives us, in a way, some insight into Bill. Kinda. We've always known that there's this...level, this very deep, seldom-relevant but very important level, on which Bill doesn't quite understand how people work. We see it primarily in the mistakes that Bill makes with Stan and Mabel. Maybe there was nothing he could have said or done in the situation with Stan to save himself, Stan had reached the point of literally suicidal determination and there's really not much you can do to budge someone at that point and especially not once their consciousness has already caught fire, but with Mabel - in Sock Opera, all Bill needed to do to win was keep his mouth shut for three more seconds. He was clever enough to see how Dipper and Mabel's relationship could be exploited to get Dipper to do what he wanted, but he did the exact opposite of what he should have done to get Mabel to do what he wanted, because for one thing he underestimates Mabel and for another...it comes back to that elusive Thing that Bill can't or won't understand about the deeper levels of humans. Or maybe it's Things, plural, and a distinct one for each person, but there's something there at the bottom of the personality that Bill apparently can't jive with.

With Ford, for instance, he clearly underestimates the power of genuine self-hatred and remorse. Bill may feel bad in some way about what he did to his homeworld, but look at the actual words of the Axolotl's prophecy: he feels that way not because he has realized at some point that what he did was fundamentally wrong, but because he wants to go home and can't. Essentially, his regret is for his own inconvenience. And in a lot of ways, I can see how that could have translated into him feeling he did, in fact, know all he needed to know to push Ford's buttons, because while it's never spelled out for us, it seems, based on his habit of carrying around family photographs on his person apparently since college despite not getting on well at all with his family, that there was maybe some tiny part of Ford that also wanted to "go home," and not just to flip off the town. Ford was also someone who deeply feared the consequences of his actions, if you read between the lines in the Journal - his worries about a 'Close Encounter' with the government, his scrawling that he must not lose his nerve on some early Portal notes, his talking more and more about Fiddleford losing his nerve in a way that starts seeming kind of projection-y - and Bill could certainly understand that fear perfectly well: we see Bill panic outright in the finale when he realizes he's out of options he's going to remotely like. In the unlikely event Stan would or even could save him, Stan obviously wouldn’t have done so so on Bill's own terms: Bill would have been stuck making an honest deal for once, or else left with the options of "die" and "take a one-in-a-million shot and do his invocation of the 'Ancient Power,' possibly putting himself squarely into the hands of an enemy whose full aims he probably does not know." But then, that's Bill's flaw - the things that drove him to become what he did were revenge and the fear of Death, of the ultimate loss of control. His arrogance makes him think he can take most any situation, no matter how disadvantageous it might seem, and twist it around sooner or later, but Death - well, that's it, ain't it? Or, as Horace might say in a really old translation:

When life is o'er, and Minos has rehearsed The grand last doom, Not birth, nor eloquence, nor worth, shall burst Torquatus' tomb.

(Horace, Ode 4.7. The Odes and Carmen Saeculare of Horace. John Conington. trans. London. George Bell and Sons. 1882.)

Bit different from most translations I've read, but close enough and in the public domain I believe, so we'll go with that. It's possible that Bill's...unique...state of existence may actually make dying an even more terrifying prospect for him than it for the rest of us. He became what he was to escape limitations, including mortality - but after all that killing and burning and transformation, he found out that he might not ever die, but that he could still be destroyed. And even when he found his own 'territory', it started decaying around him, which proved that dimensions, too, can die even if nobody is apparently actively trying to destroy them. What happens to him then? That's what he's afraid of, and he cannot quite grasp that others might be able to overcome that fear in service of either another principle or another fear. That's where he keeps running into trouble in the series timeline, too. It never occurred to him that Gideon might have enough humanity to want Mabel to actually care about him, instead of just about possessing her - much less that Gideon could want that enough to risk death for it. It was inconceivable to him that Dipper and Mabel could voluntarily turn their backs on even a blatantly false paradise to willingly walk into a living hell, just because it was the right thing to do. And as for Ford and Stan....

Well, on one level, he's right about Ford. When he met Ford, they did have certain things in common: frustration, ambition, deep and secret regrets, loneliness, and fear of facing the consequences. Ford's desire for respectability and honor from those who had rejected him his whole life may have extended this even further for him than it went for Bill in some ways: he couldn't even admit to himself that what he was doing was totally self-interested, whereas Bill, like Stan, has long since come to terms with his own selfishness. And like Bill, Ford probably didn't even have the ability to see that no matter what he did, it would never be enough, and would never really satisfy him. But death? Ford doesn't fear death. Never really has, as far as I can tell, but he certainly doesn't now. The way he lives his life, the man might as well be courting death - sending it roses every week and buying all its drinks at the bar, so to speak. He and Bill both fear the consequences of their actions, but 'consequences' are a category, and it's just as possible to be afraid to live as it is to be afraid to die. And Stan...Stan is harder to be sure of. Certainly Stan's priority is always for self-preservation. He's probably depressed to some degree, and he will risk life and limb without hesitation when he perceives a threat to that which he loves, but that's something that usually happens in a crisis. He doesn't hesitate because he doesn't think about what he's doing, which is what makes the Final Deal such an incredible gesture for me - he not only had plenty of time to think about what was going to happen, but he had to actively take steps himself to enable it to happen. To me, at least, that seems the hardest thing...but then, the whole situation in the Fearamid is one that brings to mind some of my worst fears, to the point that I find the scene difficult to watch and I almost scrapped an entire 22,000-word story once just because it required me to write about a small part of it. I'm sure Bill risked death, in some fashion, to become what he is, and I'm sure he was afraid of failure every time - but he was less afraid of a bad outcome that might come from leaping at the chance for some semblance of life, any semblance of life, no matter what that might look like or how long the odds might be, than he was of doing what he knew would lead to...wherever even destructible gods go, when they go. This is why the Stans were the thing he couldn't account for, really. He couldn't conceive of having a priority higher than self-preservation, of overcoming his worst fear - and that was what destroyed him. Maybe, anyway.

It's sort of funny, actually - I started writing a completely different post yesterday about how to develop a new character based on some of Hirsch's remarks, and in the course of it, I made the remark that I found it hard to fathom how you could write any of Gravity Falls, at all, without knowing ahead of time that it is the story of (if I can make so bold as to quote my own story's dialogue) "the Faustus of New Jersey and His Knucklehead Brother and the Hazard Sign From Hell," and without at least a fairly good understanding of who those three people are and how they got there. If one looks at the story that way, I suppose you could say the events after their starting situation are also the story of these three being thrown up against the places where their real deepest fears lie, and seeing who has something he really, really will not compromise on...or at least, it did at the start of this paragraph. But did any of them, really? Bill blatantly fails that test, of course - Bill runs, just like he's been, in a way, running for his entire miserable existence. Ford comes close to what might have been a couple of breaking experiences for him - either surrendering to Bill or, had the memory wipe worked the way he thought it would, with living with whatever the fallout of essentially killing his brother would have been - but the universe was kind and stacked the deck just enough to let him cheat his way out of that one, at least for the most part. But what about Stan? He didn't want to die, but we already knew that he'd risk it for the kids, because we've seen him do that before. The way he went about it this time arguably took more courage than the others, when he just went in swinging at an immediate and obvious threat, but it was still an escalation on an established thing. Stan's real worst fear isn’t death - it’s of being alone again, of losing his family. That's the principle that overrides self-preservation for him. What would have happened if he'd been in Ford's shoes - required to take up the role not of the sacrifice, but of the one who performed it, giving up one member of the family to save the others? Could he have done that?

...though that is wandering from the topic I was originally talking about, isn't it. Which was that yeah, Bill is, in his way, as fallible as anyone else despite his immense resources - which is gonna be a fun topic to get into when I get around to the post in this series about writing higher intelligences, but that's also not the point, which was that Ford was never going to go back to Bill the way Bill thought he was, because Bill's inability to understand other people's ability to do things that he can't is a serious blind spot for him. It's the thoughts he can't have that doom him (probably...hopefully, anyway...), fortunately for the rest of us.

[passivenovember]

"Hey, isn't that Steve?"

Billy almost drops the vase in hand. It's about a hundred and thirty fucking degrees out anyway and it's not even noon so his palms are tiny oil slicks, but he's done good, so far.

He's been careful. Happy to finally unveil his fall collection to the hundreds of Instagram follower's who've been on his ass since July--

But Heather opens her mouth and says, "Shit, Bill, I think that is Steve," peering over Billy's shoulder with these comically large brown eyes, and usually it would be kinda funny.

But the thing is, Heather's working his last fucking never in the way only a best friend can.

She had to be dragged out of their apartment this morning, kicking and screaming until Billy forked out ten bucks to get a starbucks coffee in her even though they already agreed to split today's profits 90/10 because he needed help with the maker's fair.

Billy didn't even get a coffee himself, they were running so late, and by the time the Camaro screeched down Millwork street, kicking up a cloud of dust as Billy frantically searched for the vendor entrance, it was almost 10:00 am. The bitchy volunteer at the gate almost refused to give him the tent he shelled out $200 for because check-in was at 8:00 am and it's almost 10:00, now.

Like Billy can't tell time. So.

He's not in the mood for games or jokes or teasing. Really not in the mood, like. He might drop the cashier lock box in Heather's hands and vanish, all, take your 10% and shove it in your ass, not in the mood.

But Heather trips around the folding table, dropping Billy's favorite plaid table linen in the dirt to clutch and grab at his shoulder like a scared kid.

"Heather," Billy snaps, stooping to save it from the dust with his free hand, "Holloway, I swear to fucking God--"

"Look," Heather spats. Her nails dig into his armpit when she spins him around, and.

Steve's there.

Huh.

He's wearing a volunteer t-shirt. And a fanny pack. And his extra-strength 50 SPF sunscreen hasn't been rubbed into his cheeks all the way so they look like sugar glazed apples where he sits in his little folding chair, two tents over at Robin's candle booth. Laughing.

And. Billy hasn't heard that laugh in what feels like a lifetime.

His bones ache with it, rebuilding around the loss he never really processed but has grown to ignore out of survival's sake. Steve's laugh, it. It's Billy's favorite sound in the entire world.

They haven't spoken in three months.

Not since Steve was inside of him, pumping slow and hard with his hands behind Billy's knees, folding him in half as he mouthed sweetness into Billy's throat.

You're so beautiful, tongue lavish against Billy's fluttering heartbeat, You're mine, baby. I want you to be mine. I love--

Behind them, Milk & Marigold's assistant drops something heavy and it shatters. Hundreds of eyes turn in their direction, dozens of frazzled vendors and their teams alarmed at the sudden stillness, and.

Robin, who grins widely at Heather, and. Steve. Locking eyes with Billy as all the color drains from his face.

"Holy shit," Heather's nails press deeper into Billy's arm, somehow, and Billy thinks, distantly, that she might draw blood.

He doesn't care.

Steve's looking at him. For the first time in months, the world is right and Billy can breathe again and about a trillion and thirty things rush through head, rapid firing so he doesn't have the mental space to register the way plot seventeen aches to topple to the parking-lot under foot.

Somewhere, back on Earth, Milk & Marigold's assistant gets his ass handed to him for being so reckless, and slowly. Shyly. Steve lifts a hand and waves.

Billy's going to drop plot seventeen. He grips its amber neck, instead, carless of the rippling clay under his fingertips. "Very funny," Billy says, turning on his heel. He sticks the vase between plots sixteen and eighteen, his jaw so tense it could hack and slash the sky. "I can't believe this. This is such a fucking joke--"

"--Shit--"

"--I can't believe I thought I wouldn't see him here, I mean. Robin's got a business too, right? A side hustle?"

"Candles, or something. Yeah."

"Of course she'd be here. And if she's here then. Fuck, I should've thought about this more," Billy says, tugging all ten fingers through his hair, "God, I should've just launched the fall collection online, like a normal--"

"Billy?"

Billy stands ramrod straight. All the air rushes from his lungs, his hair standing on end as if the tent overhead has grown lips and is talking to Billy in his father's voice.

It's not that.

Steve could never be that because he's better. Holy.

Steve's so much more real, up close. His hair is longer than the last time Billy saw him, his cheeks and jaw dusted with a prickly 5'oclock that gives way to a mustache up top.

It's incredibly sexy.

Billy hates it, on site, because Steve's moles are hidden like a secret. A sun-ripe memory of the first thing Billy ever loved about him.

"Wow. I didn't think I'd see you here, today," Steve says. His eyes hunt over Billy's face, warm and familiar and so, so soft despite all the shit that Billy said the last time they saw each other.

It hangs in the air, stuck like a wedge between them.

"Billy," Steve says again, soft and full of wonder and ready to scale the enormity of their past. Billy forgot how his name holds weight, when Steve says it. Extra syllables and consonants, worth their stake in gold.

Billy clears his throat. Longs for a glass of water, "Hey," He says, when really he means, I'm sorry, and, please never go away again. I'm a bad man and I was afraid but if you give me another chance, I promise I won't push you away, because I love--

Heather clears her throat.

Billy jerks his head in her direction, dizzy as the world fades back into focus. "Sorry," He says, weary, "I'm an asshole. Steve, this is--"

"Heather," Steve shakes her hand, smile gorgeous and winning, "I know, we met, I think. Once or twice when I was on my way out of the apartment."

Billy's going to pass out.

He's dizzy and sick to his stomach, and then. Steve looks at him, and his gaze settles like a warm, solid weight over Billy so he can't float away. "It's a nice apartment," Steve says shyly, "Felt like home."

Billy wasn't expecting this. To see Steve, let alone talk about the apartment, and--

"Billy," Heather says, clapping her hands together once, "How about I go and see if Robin has any extra tent weights?"

"Sure," Billy says, and Steve smiles at him, and then Billy smiles because Steve's always had that effect on people.

Heather scampers off and Steve shrugs, his hands slipping into his pockets. "You look good," Steve says.

Billy's palms are sweating. "So do you."

"Thanks. I feel like shit. I didn't realize you'd be here, even though I could've guessed, if I had a moment to rest with my own thoughts. Robin's working on her fall collection--"

"--Right--"

"--and I guess you are, too. Well," Steve tugs a hand through his hair and it poofs up big like fresh whipped cream, and Billy has missed him so desperately that his ribs rack and break, "That's a lie. I don't have to guess. I know for a fact you're fixing to launch your fall collection."

Billy frowns, "How do you know that?"

"I follow you on Instagram," Steve says, like he's expecting to get told off.

But.

It does something, to the atmosphere. Shifts things. Billy thought he'd blocked Steve on everything, after the first drunken voicemail, but.

Apparently not.

"Yeah, well. The suburban moms love my shit," Billy crosses his arms over his chest, suddenly freezing.

Steve's gaze gets caught on the swell of Billy's arms. "Billy," He starts.

"Look, it's almost noon," Billy says, heartbroken.

Steve doesn't seem to get it. But then his eyes get big and watery, like Heathers, and Billy wants to wrap him in a blanket. "Right," Steve says, "Market's opening soon."

"Right."

"Sorry, I know you still have to set up."

"No sweat."

"Look, Billy--"

"It was good to see you, Steve."

It presses down on them. Everything.

Steve's eyes close like doors. "Sure," He says, and then he's gone.

--

Apparently, word gets around for events like this.

For the first few hours Billy doesn't have time to mull over his interaction with Steve, because they're slammed with wave after wave of eager Saturday Morning buyers.

Billy's feet ache by noon as Heather works the cash box and he makes laps around the tent, restocking and catching up with repeat buyers.

The event volunteers swing by every thirty minutes or so to make sure they have everything they need, dropping off bottled water and drink tickets, and by two Billy's happy he won't be going home with a trunk full of merchandise.

He counts the cash box, whooping when he realizes that their 90/10 won't shake out too badly. "We did pretty damn good, Heath, and it's only 2:00."

Heather's already used her drink tickets on a couple of Bloody Mary's. "Are you hungry?"

"Not really."

"I heard there's a fried hotdog thing on a stick down by the food trucks," Heather says, and she giggles like any sort of weenie could pique her interest. "That doesn't sound good to you?"

"Eh," Billy says, leaning back in his chair, "I've been trying this intermittent fasting thing. I eat a big fuckin' breakfast of mostly protein, and then a light lunch around 3:00, and a small dinner--"

"That's so fucking stupid."

Billy frowns, "Gotta keep in shape."

"For who?" Heather demands. "It's not like you're whoring yourself out anymore, and you're not gonna let one of your old flings back into the apartment., much less your heart."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

Heather's cheeks are red, as if she's been sitting in the sun all morning. Billy knows her well enough to get that she probably doesn't mean any harm by it, but her words sting, anyway.

"There are other guys in New York, Heather."

"You don't want to get to know other guys, Billy."

"Bullshit. I know you're a nosy lesbian with too much attitude wedged in her a-cup bra to notice, but some of us aren't looking for love. Some of us would rather fuck random losers."

"That's so not you."

"It's a good distraction. I could use one of those."

"It's kinda hilarious," Heather rolls her eyes, "Even you don't know what you're talking about."

"I'm talking about protecting people."

"People like Steve?"

Billy snaps the cash box shut. "You're so bad at conversation Segway's."

"Fuck you, I'm really clever and stealthy."

"Did you talk to Robin about this," Billy demands, watching slack-jawed and furious as pink floods Heather's cheeks. "My thing with Steve isn't any of your business, and it's not interesting enough to warrant all your fucking medaling."

"I just think--"

"I don't care what you think."

"Why would you react like that when you saw each other?" Heather sits flush to the edge of her lawn chair, shoulders squared for a fight. "If what happened between you meant nothing and you'd really rather skip the greasy market-food for some imaginary sex pot you can blow and dump on Cornelia Street the second you're through with him, why would your heart stop beating when--"

Billy shakes his head. "I don't care what you and Robin have to say, I don't want to talk about this anymore."

"Why not?"

"Because I'm a piece of shit, alright?" Billy snaps. "What happened with Steve, it. It was inevitable, okay? He said he loved me, and I loved him and I still do but that doesn't fucking matter because he's Steve and I'm Billy and I could never be half good enough, alright? Happy?"

When Heather doesn't say anything, Billy shoves back from the table.

"Where are you going?" Heather asks, voice small and awful.

"I'm having my two drinks," Billy says, padding quickly onto the already crowded street.

--

As far as Billy's concerned, calories don't exist when it comes to alcohol.

He finds the nearest bar cart and orders two shots of dark liquor, even though it usually makes his stomach go on strike, and shells out seven dollars of his own single-person salary for a French 75.

Then he starts walking.

And walking.

At another bar cart, Billy can't stop thinking about the first time he ever saw Steve, pulsing like a brand new heart under club lights, pretty with the kind of looks that made Billy mentally ill. So he shells out another $20 on a girly pink drink with a paper mâché umbrella.

It tastes like strawberries and Steve used to taste like strawberries in the summertime. Billy can't remember what he was so upset about, before.

He feels good. In control.

But then he gets lost somewhere near Broadway and just as he figures out how to get back to his tent, where Heater is likely up to her eyeballs in impatient customers and guilt about being endlessly right in all things, Billy spots Steve balancing a funnel cake on one arm.

His nose is red. Strawberry dappled, which means he's drunk, and he's got a cup of pale ale pinched between his teeth as he figures out how to hold his market load.

The only problem is, Steve's gorgeous and so, so fucking stupid he can't figure out that he's got two hands.

It makes Billy's heartache, thumping a little harder to the left, and he can't remember why he ever left Steve rumpled in a hotel room that night, half-hard and brokenhearted, so Billy takes the rest of his drink like a shooter, and marches up to Steve and says, "You really should be locked up somewhere."

It's meant to hurt. And bruise.

But Steve's whole face lights up and he drops the ale down the front of his volunteer shirt. "Billy," he says, sounding way too bright and happy. Soaked through.

"Shit, your uniform--"

"It's okay, thing's almost over anyway."

"Stop being so nice."

"Okay," Steve says easily, "You're an asshole, and you broke my heart, and now I'm all wet."

"Well, since we're being honest."

Steve frowns. "I dreamed about seeing you again, you know? How you'd. Have too many drinks and look at me and say you haven't been able to get it up since we split.

"I can always get it up," Billy tires flatly, and Steve smirks. It's small and barely there, but. Billy swallows thickly, "I am an asshole. You're right. A drunk asshole."

"Me too. I know."

"I was worried about hurting you," Billy admits in a rush, "I didn't want to disappoint you. I thought I wasn't ready for what we had to be more than just sex, but it already was."

"--Okay--"

"I never bottomed before," Billy blurts out. "I can get it up. You make me pop too quick, you're just. You're perfect and you're kind. You're every wet dream I ever had rolled into one, Steve." The sidewalk is waving, a little. Steve looks like he wants to touch Billy, to reach out and steady him, but he's already holding a funnel cake.

Steve nods.

Encouraging and soft and kind as ever, and Billy's never felt safe with anyone, like this. So, Billy says, choking a little, "I never let another person touch me, like that. My body or anything else. I never did. You're so good, Steve. So I let you touch me and it changed me and I don't know how to be anything else than a drunk, whining asshole. But we happened and I never ached for it before, it fucking. Knocked me on my ass, Steve. You came in and you knocked me on my ass, and--"

"Billy--"

"God, I love it when you say my name," Billy says. He wonders, distantly, what kind of mojo they put in that girly little cocktail because he can't stop talking.

Steve doesn't seem to mind, but he says, "You really hurt me," Picking at the golden crisp of his funnel cake. "Seriously, Bill, I didn't think I was gonna survive it."

Billy's knees almost give out, he's. Hot all over. Burning up with feverish grief. "I'm sorry," he says. He's a hole in the center of the universe.

"I know."

"I was afraid."

"I get that," Steve says. He shuffled the funnel cake in his hands, and Billy wonders how the bottom's not soggy yet, damaged and ready to fall out. Steve puts it on the ground. "Shit's gross."

"Yeah."

"Do you wanna," Steve says, frowning, "We could walk. And talk about it, more."

"Sure."

"I'm not saying we can get back together yet--"

"--Yet--"

"I missed you," Steve says, and he's bright as the sun.

Billy's been freezing to death his whole life, so. He draws close. Takes Steve's hand, "I missed you, too," He says. "Maybe we should get you a dry shirt?"

[thegoober010]

HI the mettaton headcanons were AMAZING I LOVED THEM!!

Ok I have a bit of a specific request SO IF YOU CANT DO IT I WONT BE UPSET!!

But could you do a oneshot where Mettaton finds reader’s drawings of him, and old love letters they never gave him, and he realizes they love him AND THEN READER FINDS HIM LOOKING THROUGH THEM AND SJFJFJFJDJFJJD sorry im SO NORMAL ABOUT METTATON

-🐾 (im claiming my place as paw print anon now)

OMG I AM SO SORRY I DID NOT SEE THIS EARLIER GRRRR I WAS BEING SILLY YESTERDAY BUT I AM BACK ON TRACK NOW 😈😈

AND ALSO HELL YEAH I CAN DO IT DEARIE OMG TYSM IM GLAD YA LIKED THE HEADCANONS <33!!

I SHALL GLADY DO THIS REQUEST PAW PRINT ANON!!!

also IMA DO IT LIKE THAT THEY'RE ALREADY TOGETHER JUST THAT LIKE reader got too shy to give the letters/drawings and such to him even after they got together/didn't see the point after YA KNOW ANYWAYS LETS GET INTO IT

as usual gn! reader <3!!

TW/CWS -> NONE JUST FLUFF <3!!!!

word count -> 1.8k/1,848

"Can I get a kiss? And can you make it last forever?"

"Thanks so much for helping me out Mettaton!" You grinned as you picked up the huge overfilled box with your clothes. Mettaton turned his head over to you as you spoke, giving you a playful smirk, " Awe no need to thank me darling~! I'm always happy to help you out, especially since it's helping you move out into my home." Mettaton replied flipping his hair as he looked for any more boxes to put into the trunk of your car. Your face turns a light shade of pink due to his little pet names. You let out a soft chuckle as you open the door "Heh, still thank you, Uh I think there might be a few more boxes in the basement, could ya check for me?" You ask. Mettaton nods "Of course dearie~! Leave it up to me!" he says putting a hand on his hip before walking down to the basement to check for anymore boxes.

As you walk out to put the box in the trunk you slouch onto the side of the car, letting out a soft sigh. Jesus these boxes were heavy! Sometimes you forget how much stuff you buy.

As you were relaxing outside and taking a break from all the heavy lifting Mettaton was searching all throughout the basement. He was checking every crook and crevice of the basement so that he wouldn't accidentally leave anything behind. His metallic feet making a loud clanging noise as he walked, his eyes shifted over to a small box on the side of a dusty desk. He raised a brow as he quickly made his way to it. "Hehe, almost didn't notice this!" Mettaton giggled to himself as he gently grabbed the box and inspected it. As he moved it up to his eye level a small note escaped out of the open box. He raised a brow before bending down and picking it up. He inspected the note quickly, seeing how the envelope was open he let himself look inside. He took out the small note from the envelope, a small peek never hurt anybody, right? He skimmed over the note, his metallic body quickly heating up as he read every word from it.

'Mettaton, I wanted to give you this note because I've been wanting to tell you how much I truly love you, I love you more than anyone I have ever met, you're one of the first people, or well robots, to have ever made me feel this way. My heart beats a trillion times faster when I'm with you, I start to sweat and I dont know what to say, you just catch my attention every time you're near me or talk to me, you're one of the bets things to have ever happened to me and to have appeared in my life, no one has ever caught my attention like you. I hope you know what I mean, I hope you say the same to me, I hope you love me the same, because I love you so much more than you could ever imagine, I love you, so so much.' Mettaton read the note, over, and over, and over again. Each time he read it he could feel his body heat up and his heart (or well metallic heart- or monster heart? not even sure-) beat 10 times faster. A playful smirk quickly formed on his lips before he put the note back in, his eyes heart shaped as he placed the box down onto the desk. He opened up the box and saw even more letters. He grabbed a few of them and opened them, he read them as quickly as possible to not make it seem like he's taking to much time down in the basement.

'Ugh I don't even know why I feel like this, Mettaton I love you so much more than you could ever imagine, I know this note is a bit stupid, I know you probably would never like me back, but I just wish I could tell you already, I hope I don't just give up on this note like all the others but anyways I love you so much Mettaton, I genuinly do and I hope you feel the same. Ive never felt like this with anybody besides you. I feel like being with you my whole life, I feel like spending all my time with you, I want to spend all my time with you give you all my attention and love. I want to be with you for as long as I possibly can! I hope we can. I love you so much.' Mettaton could not stop reading these notes, god they were just so sweet! Mettaton let out a soft laugh, "Did they really think I wouldn't have liked them? Pff, this cutie really had no idea how much I loved them before huh." Mettaton thought out loud. He quickly opened up all the other notes, reading them. His body was currently overheating from joy and love. His pupils were heart shaped as he read through all of these little love notes that you had never given to him before. "I wonder why they didn't tell me about these notes now that we're together! Hehehe, I'll have to ask them later." He muttered, you both were daring after all, so he's a tads bit confused why you never gave him these notes after you confessed to him, he understands these were form way before you had confessed, but he wonders why you never gave them to him now that you two are together after all they're from the past and they honestly are super sweet.

He let out a soft chuckle before grabbing all the letters and organizing them. He closed them and peered inside the box once more before putting back the letters. He noticed a few more papers inside. Mettaton turned his head over to the stairs which led to the living room floor. He didn't hear any footsteps so he assumed it was safe to check. He grabbed the papers and gently placed them on the desk, he flipped through them. They were all little doodles of you and him together. They were mainly of you two going on dates and your little date ideas or about you thinking of him. He placed a hand on his mouth as he let out little giggles. His body was overheating as he looked through each one of them. As he looked through each of them he couldn't help but have a huge smile on his face. While he was giggling and smiling like an idiot at these notes and drawings he wasn't really paying much attention to his surroundings so he didn't hear you coming down to the basement, but once he heard your voice it was too late, you had caught him in the act of looking at your old and meant-to-be secret love-letters and doodles.

"Hey Mettaton I think that was all the boxes are ya done hereeee-..... uh- honey.... what are you doing...?" You ask as you had been making your way downstairs. You stopped midway on the stairs as you realized he had found that old box filled with your old love-letters and drawings. Mettaton turned his head over to you, a laugh escaped his lips and a playful smirk formed on his face as he saw your red, embarrassed face. "Hello darling! Nothing much just looking at these wonderful little drawings and letters you made to me in the past! Hopefully ya don't mind dear!" Mettaton replied putting the drawings and letters back gently. He closed the box and carried it, he walked over to you and looked down at your blushing, embarrassed face. He pinched your cheek as he laughed "No need to be so embarrassed! These are adorable I think I'll keep them!" Mettaton grinned, you tried to take away the box but due to his tall stature he was able to keep them out of your reach by holding them higher. "Mettaton!! Those are private! You weren't ment to find them! They're really old they're from before we got together and- and they're really bad!" You replied, your tone filled with shame as you crossed your arms, you hid your face with one of your hands trying to hide your embarrassment and just yourself in general as if that would work.

Mettaton smirked and shook his head. "But they're cute! I like them! So what if they're old and cheesy? They just show how much you really love me, no need to be so embarrassed!" Mettaton chuckled ruffling your hair. You grumbled in response causing Mettaton to take your hand of your face and pinch your cheek once more, admiring your cute features. "You look so adorable when you're all embarrassed like this! Just look at you darling so cute~!" he teased causing you to stumble all over your words. You let out a grumble.

"I'm taking these with us dearie! Now come on let's get going so we can move everything in early! We wouldn't want to be unpacking all your stuff late at night now would we? We don't want you missing out on your beauty rest hehe!" Mettaton giggled before using his arm to pick you up. Despite your many protests he loved picking you up, being able to keep you so close to him physically and being able to show everyone how close you two are made him very happy for some reason, it felt like he was able to show you off like this and he loved it! He giggled as he brought you two to the car, he placed you down so that he could open the back car door and place the small box on the seat. Once he did he closed the door and looked down at you. "Awe don't look at me like that dear~! It's not my fault your little love letters were so cute that I want to keep them." Mettaton remarked noticing your blushing face. "Ugh it's just a bit embarrassing is all..." You mumbled.

Mettaton placed his hand on his hip. He put his other hand on his chin as he seemed to think for a bit. "Hmmm, well, no need to be embarrassed! Those little notes just show how much you love me darling~!" he smirked. "Now come on, get in the car so we can get going, I want to get home and relax with you already!" Mettaton smiled as he bent down to give your face multiple little pecks on your cheeks, forehead and lips, leaving you all red in the face and feel embarrassed but also lovely. You gave him a peck on the cheek before nodding. "Fine, fine, let's get going then." You reply with a soft smile forming. He grins widely as he played with you hair. "Good~! Oh and- don't be scared to make me some new letters or drawings hehehe!! I'll appreciate every single one of them!" "Hm, fine, if that's what you want my love." You reply.

"Heh, I love you so much darling!"

[a-cartoon-lover]

Find a puzzle piece AU

This AU is about what if Mr. Puzzles died in Puzzlevision arc and his afterlife.

After defeated by SMG4 crew, SMG3 bombed him, SMG4 shooted him into the sky by canon, to make sure to kill him, and his head is completely shattered piece by piece.

Near by the earth, a little planet ship(imagine Mario's starship but starting planet's looks) was there.

The owner of starship, Rosalie was watching the earth, because she detected something similar to her star power.

She is a tailor, and was alone for 1 million years. Even if she made friends, they always left her for their short lives.

She thought this is the last chance to make a friend just like her species, so she was there.

Eventually, she found pieces of Mr. Puzzles. She felt the power of star from these pieces, so she tried to collect them all and fix it.

One by one, she fixed him almost completely, but some pieces are still missing. Yet, she managed to wake him up.

"Ugh……Where am I…"

"Oh my stars! You're awake, mister!"

"What the- Who are you?!"

"I'm Rosalie! Rosalie the Wish star! ……Would you kindly be my friend, mister?"

At first, Mr. Puzzles confused and tried back to Puzzle Park, but he remembered what he did to the crew and how they hate him.

He will rejected even if he headed to there, further more, they definitely will kill him.

So, he decided to stay her place, and become friend with her. Thought he can use her power for the revenge, or he just wanted to rest.

Still, his arms are hurt by overusing brainwash and his whole body needs repair, they started their adventures by finding the substitution.

Also, some of wounds of the arms are cured by Rosalie's seals. She used it to cover the missing parts of head too!

Rosalie can turned into Luma somehow, and Mr. Puzzles can turned into mini himself too. They sometimes turned into it and think nothing, just hangging out together. Weird, right?

Rosalie has been lived 1 trillion years, yet she acts like from a little girl to adult woman. It switches by her moods. He forgets how old she is at time.

"No- you can't watch Hannibal- It's not for kids, and you don't know how, -well, scary movie is-"

"Puzzles, I lived 1 trillion years and know what kind of movie is." "Oh."

Their relationship changes time to time. Sometimes became Steve and Blue, sometimes Saiko and Meggy, and sometimes him and Leggy.

Her body is literally a doll, but star power made it realistic. She can get out of the body with the star. Her soul is the star, so if you put it out from body, the body will turned into a little doll immediately.

Mr. Puzzles sometimes clean her star to show some appreciation. Also gardening together and make a rose crown for her.

If they get bored, they get into Mr. Puzzles' head and doing role play or recording tv shows.

Just a peaceful, happy ending, that original Mr. Puzzles won't get.

(Gonna draw more if I can. Thanks for reading and see them!)

[changingplumbob]

Glenn sets about cutting the gem for Druisilla. It's much harder than he thought to hold it in place and shape it. He fumbles many times but is determined to finish, he wants his hair colour back! Hours pass but he thinks he's gotten the shape Drusilla needs. He does a quick check in his phone camera and yep, the green is back! He must have done it right.

Tidying up his mess he heads back down the ladder. He was planning on heading to bed, it had gotten late, but spotting an odd shape out the window he decided to go investigate first. Rounding the corner of the tower he saw... a horse? With a flower crown, a big tail ribbon and a spellcaster lying on its back. Glenn wasn't sure if he should disturb them, they looked peaceful, but he had no idea if he could be spotted under the spellcaster's hat. Surely it would be rude not to say hi if she had seen him.

Glenn: Umm, hi. We've not met but I'm-

Koko: Glenn. Phoebus said you would be returning

Glenn: Uh, I can't actually return if I've never even been here

Koko: You are not returning to a place, you are returning to family, your grandfather. You're in his dreams

Glenn: I'm in his dreams?

Koko: Can you feel them like Pepper and I can

Glenn: Feel what

Koko: The dreams. All around us creatures are sleeping. Your grandfather dreams of your family, Phoebus dreams of the past, the field mice dream of full bellies and soft beds

Glenn: Sorry, I can't

Koko: Don't apologise. I feel them because I'm connected to the night. To the moonlight. It may be reflected sunlight but it holds a power all it's own, just like each of us. I'm Koko, and this is Pepper

Glenn: Nice to meet you. Do you always go riding at night

Koko: Oh I wasn't riding, I was meditating

Glenn: Meditating?

Koko: I don't sleep much. Light gives me energy, sunlight in the day, moonlight most nights. The starlight from trillions of miles away. Even the auroras give me energy.

Glenn looked up, he hadn't even thought about examining the sky but there they were. Stars back-dropping coloured auroras that seemed to dance. It was mesmerising and he could understand the desire to simply stare.

Koko: How was your first day back

Glenn: Strange. I've never been around so many spellcasters before

Koko: We draw strength from each other, and community

Glenn: Even Drusilla? Because they stole my hair colour for a bit. Well they said they did but it was black not white

Koko: That makes sense if you know how light works

Glenn: What do you mean

Koko: Colour comes from light. Light hits something and is either absorbed or reflected. That's not too important but colour, what we see as colour, is what is not absorbed. What we see as white is when light hits something and all of the light gets reflected back. What we see as black is when light hits something and all of it gets absorbed

Glenn: So yeah... science was never my best subject

Koko: That's fine. Basically light gives colour, no light reflection or black can be seen as colourless. I imagine Drusilla borrowed that for a while

Glenn: Is that why you're dressed in such light colours? White is light

Koko: *smiles* Yes. It's all the colours together, and the colour from the moon

Glenn: You really never sleep?

Koko: I... can go in to a trance I guess. Where my daydreams can become more vivid but I never disconnect from the world like others do in their sleep. My brain never writes the story for me anymore. It must be nice to dream, I haven't done it since I was a kid

Glenn: Sometimes, but nightmares are not good.

Koko: You have nightmares?

Glenn hesitated. He hadn't really talked about them, but from the sound of it Koko would be able to sense them anyway.

Glenn: Not as much as I used to. Grandfather got me out of the circus when I was young, but mom and pop didn't make it. He had to set a fire to get out. Sometimes in my sleep I'm just surrounded by smoke, with no way out. I worry that's what happened to...

Koko: I understand

Glenn: Are your folks...

Koko: Not sure

She walks over to Pepper and brushed her mane for comfort.

Koko: My ancestors were ill treated for more than just being spellcasters. So many times they would settle only to be driven off, told where to go and where not to go, what to do and not do. More than just my parents were my family but I haven't heard their dreams in a long time, I miss it

Glenn: I'm sorry

Koko: It's not your doing. Have good dreams Glenn

Sensing the conversation was over Glenn left the spellcaster with her horse under the stars.

Previous ... Next

[cryingatwindermerepeaks]

adi adi adi :33

hiii <33 been thinkin about little katniss and peeta and cg! haymitch.

do u have any thoughts? beyond what weve talked about :0

hi beebee !!! i’ve got a billion trillion thoughts !! but my brains all small and messy at the moment so they are all over the place and a little bit chaotic :D

- Katniss tends to regress to about 4-6,l and Peeta is a bit younger sticking closer to 1-4 especially after the hijacking

- Katniss and Peeta both start going to Haymitch about their regression around the same time (the start of the victory tour) though this is completely separate and they haven’t the slightest clue about the others regression

- Haymitch is so confused why these small babies keep coming to him of all people but it is a really good incentive not to drink because he doesn’t exactly like the idea of having to deal with a 3 year old Katniss crying because she can’t find her pacifier while also being drunk

- The first time Peeta regresses after the hijacking is terrifying. Obviously Katniss can’t be there but they figure Haymitch won’t be too triggering for him. But it’s awful. He cries the whole time and Haymitch just has to hold him and wonder where is smiley little boy went.

- Little Peeta is scared of Katniss a lot longer after the hijacking which is really hard for little Katniss who doesn’t really understand it but she likes to make him little drawings to look at when he’s feeling extra small and scared because Peeta finds them calming

- Little Peeta is very quiet whereas Katniss has absolutely no filter

- Peeta hates to wear his prosthetic so Johanna and Katniss put stickers on it to make him feel better

- I like to think that eventually Effie, Haymitch, Kat, Peeta and Jo move to district 4 to be with Finnick and Annie

- Little Katniss adores being at the beach in district 4 and it’s a nightmare to drag her out of the water.

- She spends so much time there that Haymitch and Peeta both end up learning how to swim pretty well

- As much as katniss hates being called sweetheart when she’s big she’s a sucker for it when she’s small because it makes her feel safe and only Haymitch ever calls her it

- Katniss is always wandering off while she’s little and Peeta is always the first to notice, he’ll see her going somewhere she’s not supposed to and just tug Haymitch’s sleeve and point

- She definitely needs one of those little backpack leashes (one with a monkey on it)

- Katniss isn’t good at admitting that she needs help while she’s little. She won’t hide that she’s regressed but she also won’t actively seek out Haymitch. They make a routine of her going to his room every night for a story and bottle before bed so he knows Katniss is at least getting some time to relax and Katniss knows that there is a special scheduled time which takes some of the pressure off

- Katniss loves to tell everyone all the little facts she knows about plants, she gets so proud everytime she can point something out

[roodles03]

Hunter's Room (Fan Design)

It is about time I finally did this, now I can make so many drawing ideas come true with a room for Hunter designed. Also, for those who read my "Timeskip Watching and Dreaming AU" series of fanfics on A03, this is what Hunter's room looks like. This room is a room in Darius' house, so yippie Dadrius.

Alright, I know the doors can be confusing to let me break this down.

The door on the south wall with the small cuckoo clock like doors is the door to exit the room. I put cuckoo doors on the door because it's for Waffles.

The door that's on the wall that's jetting out is the door to the walk-in closet

And the the door on the west wall is the door to Hunter's private bathroom.

I originally wanted to do the entire Deamonne household at once, but, no way that would take forever. Maybe I'll do parts of it in the future but for right now, NO. If I did, I'd probably do Darius' room next and the living room after that.

This took such a long time to design, and it was my first time ever designing a background completely on my own. I needed to take off the training wheels and design my own background for once, and for my first attempt, I think I did a decent job.

The only thing that I couldn't add is a ceiling fan, but that was only because of the angles I had. I'm sure I could've if I had a different angle. Im going to have to design that separately.

This took since October 20th to finish, I probably could've got it done faster, but uni kept me busy and such. Either way, now that I've finished this, I can't wait to make drawings with this room. Yay!

Alright so: Tumblr exclusive content from here on out since insta has a stupid character limit, and their cropping system sucks

I'm gonna go on an infodump to why I decided to put almost everything here in Hunter's room.

North Wall:

Bed: I decided to make the headboard and footboard a cherry colored wood because Hunter would definitely like cherry wood because it's reddish. Referencing Willow's headboard that has a flower, I changed that into a bird for Hunter. I gave him a blue blanket in reference to Waffles. I headcannon that Hunter LOVES plushies, so I gave him some plushies I'd think he'd like. He'd definitely like squishmallows, so I gave him a blue-jay, cardinal, and wolf squishmellow. I also gave him a small wolf plush, as well as a small parrot plush and a peacock plush. The Sprig plushie is special, as it's not the same one as he had in the castle. It's a life-sized one Willow won him at a carnvial. (Reference to one of my fics).

Nightable: Nothing much to say here outside of the fact that I felt like Hunter would need one. I gave him a crystal ball because I felt like he'd like one.

Desk: This is where Hunter does work, from designing clothes to sew to studying for school. He has a log of regluar wood to practice carving on. (This room is set when Hunter is still a kid early during the WAD timeskip) He also has a punch a pencils, a desk lamp, and some books on there.

Corkboard: Hunter keeps notes for his school studies, and personal projects here. Sometimes he doodles things and puts them up there, such as the wolf and birds doodles.

Wall: Hunter would 100% be that person to have a trillion posters. I gave him a Flyer Derby poster, and a hummingbird poster. The Ruler's Reach poster is actually signed by King himself. Here's also a wolf calender, since I'd figured he'd like that, and a cuckoo clock that I headcannon Hunter and Dell carved together.

Bookshelf: On the bottom shelf, Hunter keeps a bunch of random books he likes.

On the second shelf, he has a photo of Flapjack, textbooks for his abominations and potions classes, and a photo of Willow

On the third shelf, he has textbooks for his illusions, construction, wild magic, plants, beastkeeping, and runes classes.

On the forth shelf, he has a photo of Darius, textbooks for his bard, oracle, and healing classes, and a photo of Waffles.

On the top shelf, he has his two favorite books of all time, Cosmic Frontier and Ruler's Reach, specially displayed with them propped up.

Jesus, that was by far the longest description we'll have.

East Wall:

Window: Hunter has a basic window with blue curtains. I originally wanted to make the curtains space themed for Cosmic Frontier, but then realized that would be a pain to draw over and over again, so I kept it blue. Maybe I can make Hunter's shower curtain space themed instead.

Other then that, there is nothing new on this wall that I'd like to cover. (I'd rather cover things that appear on other walls in their sections)

South Wall:

Wall: Hunter has two more posters on this wall. A Cosmic Frontier Poster. This is a reference in itself, where in Star Trek, the equivalent of O'Bailey has an asian wife that is a Bontonist, and that is sorta a parrel to Huntlow. So I decided to make a headcannon design for both O'Bailey, and the Bontonist I decided to rename to Aiko. So boom. Huntlow reference. The other poster is simply a wolf poster.

Box: This is pretty self explanatory. Its a box with sewing supplies.

Mannequin: Since Hunter sews, I'd imagine he'd like to have a mannequin to help make the clothing design process easier.

Table: This is the same sewing Machine from Thanks to Them, as Camila gave it to Hunter as a gift.

West Wall:

Outside of the door of the bathroom, there is nothing new on the west wall that I haven't already covered.

Bonus:

Here is the original blueprint for the entire Deamonne household. I could go from here and design every last aspect of the house, but that would take ages. I'd definitely like to, but its just so much work. Like I said, the next two rooms I'd design are Darius' room and the living room. Plus, Hunter's room was by definition going to he the hardest, since he has the most stuff and therefore detail in his room.

For when I wanted to focus solely on Hunter's room, I referenced the upstairs blueprint snd made a more detailed blueprint just for his room. As you can see, A LOT ended up changing from this to the final version.

[videogamelover99]

[Gravity Falls] Waking Days Ch. 3: The Master of the Mind

Summary: Bill Cipher is reborn, but not in the way he would have wanted. Stuck as a mortal and relying on those who brought his downfall, he realizes that maybe he didn't lie as hard as he should have. [AO3 Link] Characters: Bill Cipher, Mabel Pines, Dipper Pines, Stanford Pines, Stanley Pines, Jheselbraum the Unswerving, The Axolotl Pairings: past BillFord Rating: T

A/N: Hope you like this new chapter! Thank you to @megxolotl and @nexstage for beta-reading. Enjoy!

---

The mindscape opened up around Bill, casting the Mystery Shack’s living room in fuzzy greyscale. Bill’s human prison lay beneath him, fast asleep on the couch. Human astral projection wasn’t exactly rocket science, but the cute little speck of power he’d retrieved from the rift gave him access to something far better: the squealing minds of others. His projected consciousness could take any form he wished, and it was a blast to have his snazzy three-sided form back, if temporarily.

Ha! Couldn’t have predicted this, Frills?

He had some housekeeping to do. The mindscape let him interact with his mind, and Bill spent the first night eagerly sorting through the scraps of information his memory was trying desperately to hold on to. A human mind was not meant for trillions of years’ worth of memories, and it had a pesky habit of prioritizing things that it deemed “important”, and throwing the rest out with the garbage. Bill had to dig stuff up from a pile of discarded and disintegrating memories and cram it into corners it couldn’t escape from. It was like lying about cleaning your room, only to shove everything under the bed and hope Mom wouldn’t notice.

Once he was sure he wouldn’t lose whatever remains of his infinite knowledge left to him, Bill finally got to the real fun. He poked around the town, invading sleeping heads and only causing minor chaos in his wake. He didn’t want to give himself away that easily. 

Well. Lazy Susan sure liked cats.

Dipper’s nightmare of fighting parents and disintegrating nuclear families took a backseat to one about twelve-headed pigs. 

One peek into Sheriff Blub’s brain: it was a play-by-play of Mabel’s trashy romance novels. 

One peek in Deputy Durland’s brain, and he had to pour caustic soda in his eye. Humans were such freaks.

There were two minds Bill had to keep from, if only for now. Sixer was too likely to recognize his presence. As for Stanley…

He didn’t want to see Stanley’s mind ever again. 

Bill kept searching. One of these small-town hicks was bound to find another rift, another crumb of his power. All he had to do was play nice.

It was only a matter of time. 

—

Learning to play nice, however, was harder than it looked.

"So, anyway, this is why-" Mabel Pines' cheerful voice grated on him as she prattled about something one of her little friends did. They sat on the floor in the attic, surrounded by a pillow fort the twins had constructed, and Bill attempted to look like he was listening. He noticed the stained-glass window that used to hold his face had been replaced by some boring plexiglass. Boo. 

"Hey, Billy-"

"I told you not to call me that," he snapped. "What?"

“I’ve decided,” she said it like it was a monumental announcement. “I’m going to help you!”

Well, that was easier than expected. “Finally got a taste for world domination?”

“Nope, try again!”

“You’ve come to your senses and realized replacing all the eggs in the fridge with baby heads is the most hilarious thing ever?”

“Wrong again! I’m gonna help you…” Mabel stood up on her bed and struck a dramatic pose. “Be a better person!”

That sent him into sudden fits of hysterical laughter.

“You might not believe it now, but I do!” she jumped off the bed, her face deathly serious. “Being a good person is like sports, you get better at it if you practice. All you need is the right coach!”

“You lost me at ‘person’.”

“You’re a person, silly!”

“That’s the problem.”

“No, it isn’t!” She flung open one of the drawers and took out a sketchbook. “Here.” She flipped to the right page and pointed at a drawing of a triangle with an eye and a big angry eyebrow. Pretty good. The flames were a nice touch. “This is you, and this…” She drew a line through his face and colored everything below in red. “Is your badness level.”

“I’m not a fluffy marketable blue alien created by a gaslighting, monopolistic entertainment company.”

Mabel learned to ignore his asides. She looked him up and down and pursed her lips like she was conspiring something. It was kind of adorable, but Bill was pretty sure that whatever it was would occupy the rest of the day with pointless side quests, and he needed to get a move on if he wanted to find more rifts. 

“Oh wow, would you look at the time! Catch ya on the flip side, kid-” He made it to the door before Mabel appeared before him, blocking his only escape. 

“Not so fast, mister. Hey!” He picked her up and deposited her out of the way. Weight was still an annoying concept, and she was heavy for her size. 

He was halfway down the stairs when she said: “I’ll get Grunkle Stan to drop that grudge he’s been carrying!”

That made him pause. Walking around the shack without worrying about the old geezer’s retaliation for those pranks would be nice.

He climbed back up and plopped down on the pillow fort. Mabel looked way too smug for someone who was just picked up like a delivery package, so he flipped her hair over her face. “You’ve got one hour,” he said as she sputtered and coughed up hair.

—

Lesson 1: Apologies. Know how to admit you’re wrong!

“Hey, Fez.”

“What do you want?”

“My bad about the glue shoes.”

“Is this some kinda trick?”

“Me? No way, never. By the way, you might wanna check your bed for blood-sucking gnomes. Not for any particular reason.”

He got away before the rolling pin Stan tossed could hit him. Mabel facepalmed.

—

Lesson 2: Good Deeds. Do something without expecting anything in return.

“Why, thank you. Such a nice young man. My sight had been bad ever since my cataracts set in.”

“Sure. Woah, this weighs a ton!”

“Oh! I brought cookies, my secret recipe. I can only bake them once a year, and I wanted to give something to the grandkids.”

…

“My, this bag weighs a lot less than I remember.”

“Look at you, so strong from all that heavy lifting!”

“Oh, I suppose so!”

The old lady left, and Bill held out his armful of cookies. “Want one?”

Mabel angrily munched on the stolen treat.

—

Lesson 3: Compliments! Say something nice about someone else!

“Hey, what a haircut!”

“Oh, thank you!”

“Reminds me of this one guy I met from Dimension 323. Had tentacles for teeth and teeth for eyes. Great guy, he’d make this crazy cocktail out of pineapple juice, vodka, and fingernails…”

They watched as the man shuddered and scrambled away, his face turning green by the second.

“Can’t handle a compliment. This guy’s got issues.”

Mabel groaned into her notepad.

—

“So, how’s it going?” Dipper trailed off when his sister let out a moan of pure anguish. “I’m guessing not good.”

“This was awful, Dipper!” Mabel leaped to her feet from her sad curl on the pavement and paced back and forth. “I’ve tried everything! Compliments, apologies, acts of kindness, it’s like he can’t do anything unless he gets something out of it or makes someone miserable because he thinks it’s funny! Who lives like that?!”

“Bill.” 

“Aaaagh!” Mabel tugged on her hair in frustration.

“Hey, maybe it’s time for a change of plans,” Dipper offered. “I mean, I told you. The guy is the worst. Maybe you have to accept that he’s terrible, with or without your help, and move on.”

“I can’t."

“Why?”

“Because I brought him back!”

Dipper frowned. “Mabel…”

“I shook his hand, right? So I’m responsible for him.” Mabel stopped pacing and scowled at the ground. “I don’t want him to end up hurting anyone because of me.” She looked at the bench some twenty feet away, where Bill lay sprawled on the seat, fast asleep. “And now he’s napping.” She said, a little bitterly.

“He’s been doing that a lot lately.” Dipper sent the ex-demon a suspicious glance. 

“Yeah,” Mabel went quiet. 

“Let’s go wake him up and give him a piece of our mind.”

Mabel yanked him back by the arm. “Dipper, wait! Just…just let him sleep, okay? He probably needs it.”

Confusion, exasperation, and a fond sort of pride all fought inside Dipper. “He doesn’t deserve your sympathy, Mabel.”

“Well, I’m giving it anyway,” she huffed. “Because I’m a good person!”

—

He didn’t have a lot of time, out in the open like this, but hey, he worked with what he got. Bill peeked through a dozen minds or so, no sign of a rift or anything like it. The guy with the haircut was still crying in the bathroom. Nice.

“Come on, give me something.”

He knew there was more than one rift. He knew, because this town had a habit of attracting chaos and entropy and because a calamity of this size wouldn’t stop at one little crack.

A calamity of this size would destroy you, too.

Ugh, not him. 

You invoked me. I am always here.

Oh yeah? Ever heard of privacy? Boundaries? Not being a creep?

This is coming from someone whose main occupation was watching everyone and everything.

…Touché. 

Even you cannot escape what’s to come.

They’ll see about that, won’t they? Once he had his powers back, some multidimensional rip in the fabric of the universe wouldn’t be much of a problem.

You are a fool.

“And you’re an irritating, holier-than-thou waste of space!”

He didn’t realize that he’d yelled it out loud, into the mindscape. But he had, and the Axolotl was silent for a moment before he once again spoke: Pursue this for as long as you wish. It is fruitless. You cannot escape your vow to me. 

“Yeah yeah. Get lost.”

And he did. Not really, Bill could still feel the Axolotl’s presence hovering somewhere nearby, and it drove him crazy to know everything he did was being scrutinized by some huge, ugly, annoying- 

Huh, that was weird. 

The mind he found nearby, well, there was something off about it. It was hard to notice, like a hiccup in space-time, but Bill has done this song and dance for eons. The girl herself was fast asleep, her head on the storefront counter. Bill vaguely recognized her as that enthusiastic cashier girl who vowed to destroy all clothing without pockets. Heh, fun times.

He floated up next to her and poked the distortion with a finger. 

There it was again. Sparks, glitching for a split second before fading out. It was a lot like the static aura surrounding Mabel’s pet pig.  

Bill stared at it for a few moments. Then he laughed. Weeks of mind-numbing human boredom and now finally, something interesting.

He hesitated, for a moment, on whether or not to enter the cashier girl’s mind. It wasn’t like anything could happen to him in the mindscape, not really, but-

Scoffing at the idea, Bill let himself right in.

“Woah!”

Cashier Girl’s exterior sure matched her interior. A dark hallway of a nightclub filled with punk rock posters by groups from the 90s, complete with DOWN WITH THE SYSTEM graffiti was about what Bill had expected. And hey, he could respect consistency and vision, if anything. Anarchy was still his wheelhouse, even if it was packaged in outdated punk rock aesthetics. 

What he was pretty sure didn’t belong there were the tendrils of white static, crawling around corners like a glitched-out video game screen. 

A sharp, colorful tendril reached out toward him. Bill swatted it away. “Back off, pal. You’re picking a fight you can’t win.”

The tendril quickly retreated, cowering in the corner. Man, it felt good to be back.

“What are you supposed to be?”

Bill didn’t jump. He definitely didn’t screech, and summon a handful of flames he quickly snuffed out. Because he wasn’t startled, Bill couldn’t startle, he was the All-Seeing-Eye!

“Hey, man, you ok?”

That was when he realized the posters weren’t rock bands, but memories. On the poster behind him, Cashier Girl was looking at him as she sat under a large willow tree, on top of a black and white colored picnic blanket. 

So maybe spending so much time trapped in an awkward meat sack made him rusty. Bill straightened his tie and pretended none of that had happened. Because it didn’t. “Heya. Nice digs. Great decor. The fluorescent lighting really brings the whole eye-sore together.”

“You’re a triangle,” said the girl.

“Yup,” said Bill.

“How does that, like, work?”

It was awkward, having a conversation through the metaphysical representation of the border between someone’s memory and their mind, so Bill let himself in, settling on the other corner of the picnic blanket, one leg crossed over the other. “Hey, not my fault humanity’s dimensional awareness started and ended at the number three! You think your pencil drawings don’t watch you while you sleep?”

Cashier Girl reached out a finger toward his side, which Bill slapped away lightly. “Yeesh, what’s with all the unwarranted touching in here? You got a problem or something?”

“Sorry, it’s just-” She angled her neck around him as if checking if he was actually flat.

“Hey, kid, my eye’s up here.”

“Uh-huh.” She looked at him up and down again, “Are you like, the Hat Man or something?”

“Did you seriously compare me to that miserable gangly hack?” Bill rolled his eye. “He can’t even manifest without allergy pills! Nah, kid, I’m the dream demon real deal,  your good old pal Bill-”

Wait. 

“Demon, huh? Cool,” the girl frowned. “You kinda look like all that graffiti in the town I work in. Gravity Falls?”

“Wow, what a crazy coincidence. DON’T WORRY ABOUT IT!”

He took in his surroundings a bit more. It was pitch black, with a small, cool breeze blowing through the grass underneath the blanket and shifting the strands of willow above them. Behind the tree was a small clearing filled with gravestones, green and mossy with age. A plaque on the rusted-up wire fence read FAIRVIEW CEMETERY.

Fairview wasn’t far from Gravity Falls. So this kid was an out-of-towner. Luckily, she didn’t recognize him.

Cashier Girl shrugged. “I come here all the time.” 

Ding! Another point for manic pixie dream girl! Three more and we might even find a sad, mediocre boy to attach!

He didn’t say that out loud, obviously. “Gotta respect your gusto, kid! Say, how’s about you tell your old pal Bill about whatever’s going on there.” He pointed at the window to the rest of the mindscape. From this side of things, it looked like there was a poster floating in the air.

“Oh, that,” Cashier Girl frowned. “That started a while ago. Ever since I got that job at the mall.”

“And did you see anything… weird?”

“Yeah, I mean…” She shook her head, looking frustrated. “There was this like, multicolored light?”

Now they were getting somewhere. Lemme guess, a tear in space-time did some damage to your psyche. Bill extended his arm until it was three times as long, looping it around the girl’s shoulders. “Lay it on me! Consider it a free consultation: you’re talking to the Master of the Mind, you know,” he winked and manifested two cups of tea in front of them. 

The girl tentatively reached for hers. “Well, there was this like, tear. I think? In a wall. Inside it were these oil-spill lights?”

She was gonna lead him straight to the jackpot. After days of frustration and nothing, Bill felt like cackling. “And lemme guess, you touched it, and it backfired?”

She shrugged. She looked down at the tea and made a face.

Bill floated toward her until his eye was inches away from hers. “Where did you see it?”

“Oh, um,” she put her finger to her chin, frowning. “I don’t remember.”

“Ha! Obviously, I should’ve-” Bill’s excited speech stopped short. “What do you mean, you don’t remember?”

She shrugged again. “Sorry. It’s like there’s this static.” She pointed to her head.

Bill rubbed his eye in frustration. “Do you remember anything? At all?”

“Well, it was dark.”

“ And?”

“And…I think my boss was there.” Cashier Girl frowned in thought. “Wait, why would she be there?”

“...Great!” He threw his hands up. The teacup fell onto the blanket, tea spilling and staining the cloth. “Okay! Sure! I can work with this! Who’s your boss, kid?”

“So how do I get rid of it?”

“What?”

“You said it’s a ‘free consultation’,” said Cashier Girl. “So how do I get rid of the gross staticky stuff?”

Bill looked back through the poster at the rest of the mindscape. The Cashier Girls in the other memories were watching them curiously. The spiderweb, static-like tendrils wiggled around like maggots. “How’s about this: I’ll know how to get rid of it if you tell me where I can find your boss.”

“Really?”

“Yeah!” He floated up to her eye level. “See, this kinda stuff is hard to get rid of. It’s like a curse, it eats away at you, body and mind and all until you’re nothing but a big sad pile of madness in a white-padded cell!”

“Oh.”

“So, the only way to clear the gunk: find the origin point. Capiche?” He waved his hand in the air. “We’ll do a little cleansing ritual, you know, nothing fancy, get all the tough stains out, and voila! Brand new mindscape! Madness-free! How’s that sound?”

“Yes?”

“Great! It’s a deal!” He reached out a hand, expecting the familiar crackle of blue flame to appear. But it was just his hand, and for a moment Bill simply stared at it, momentarily forgetting the last few weeks. Right. Can’t make binding deals anymore. That frilly bastard took that, too.

The girl hesitantly shook his hand. “Deal.” She paused. “I’m not, like, gonna find out I owe my firstborn to you, right?”

“Psh, why would I want your firstborn? Babies are smelly tyrants with too much time on their hands. Just help me find that rift, kid. The rest’s on the house.”

“Okay,” she said hesitantly. “By the way, is there an eyeball in this tea?”

—

“Look at you,” said Jheselbraum as she knelt by the translucent barrier that held Waddles. The monstrous, corrupted pig oinked in several different voices.

“Mabel is convinced that’s him demanding treats,” Ford said.

“Of course, it is. I speak pig.”

“You do?”

Jheselbraum held his gaze for a good moment before laughing. “No.  But I’m flattered you would think so.” She took a carrot from a nearby bucket of treats Mabel started keeping in Ford’s study and pressed a button to lower the barrier enough to toss it in. The carrot landed between three hungry, gaping pig mouths, and they fought each other as they devoured it. 

“Is there a way to fix him?” Ford asked.

“Maybe. The energy that did this to him came from Bill’s dimension, but it’s more than that. It’s the same energy that’s feeding those cracks.”

“So if we find a cure for Waddles….” 

“We will find a cure for the rift.” 

Stanford watched the pig blink at him as if expecting more treats. For the first time in a long while, he felt the glimmer of optimism rear its head in his heart. “Let’s get to work, then.”

—

Stan walked past Greasy’s, noticing the unusual crowd at the door. That ratty little diner never got this much traction, even during tourist season.

He was tempted to snoop around, if only to find out what they were doing and how to steal whatever new gimmick got those people through the doors. Shrugging off the mantle of Mr. Mystery was harder than he realized. 

Maybe later. As he reached the general store, he tried the handle. It didn't budge. 

Huh. The store had pretty damn consistent working hours for 30 straight years. He peered through the window. 

“They’re not in,” said a voice. Stan turned and saw one of Wendy’s teen friends. She didn’t look up from her phone as she said: “Everyone’s been holed up at Greasy’s.”

“Oh yeah? What’s at Greasy’s?”

“Beats me, some kinda town meeting. It’s been crowded all afternoon.”

Stan swallowed nervously and looked back down Main Street at the bustling diner. His first worry was that their attempt at hiding Bill had turned out pretty lousy, and the thought of a parade of justifiably scared town citizens filling their yard, carrying pitchforks and torches, did not make him any less nervous.

“Guess I should check it out,” he said.

“I literally don’t care,” said the teen.

—

“There are a few materials we could try,” Jheselbraum stood in front of the chalkboard and scribbled out a formula while Stanford watched from his desk chair. He hadn’t slept well, but that hadn’t been unusual for the past few weeks. He did his best to focus as his interdimensional friend dropped the chalk and picked up something she’d brought with her: a purple, semi-translucent scarf. “Imagine the fabric of existence as a tightly interwoven net. It’s hard to break, but with enough torn strings it can come apart easily. And strings are most easily torn at the seams,” With that, Ford watched, surprised, as she tore the scarf in half with her hands.

“Er, that wasn’t anything valuable, I hope?”

Jheselbraum stared at the torn pieces in her hands, realizing what she’d just done. “...I’ll make a new one.” She tossed the pieces aside. “The rift is a tear in space-time, most likely to be found at the seams of a dimension, where reality is the weakest. And the more they appear, the more likely it is for the entire fabric to come undone.” She gestured to the chalkboard. “The fabric of reality is made of logic and systems, not cloth, but the principle is the same.”

“And the tear was made by a high concentration of weirdness?”

“Yes. Weirdness, chaos, entropy, whatever you wish to call it.” Jheselbraum pointed at the first half of the formula. “Chaos is an imbalance, a surplus of energy. Without Bill Cipher as an agent to channel it, the Nightmare Realm is overflowing with that energy. Your dimension will be the most affected, having been the one directly in contact with the Nightmare Realm a year ago. But there are ways to channel that energy, ground it, using magically made materials. If we create some of them, and test them-”

“We can sew the hole in reality back together.”

“You’re catching on.” The Oracle smiled. 

But Ford was busy thinking of something she’d said. “‘Without Bill Cipher’. You mean he’s been preventing this?”

Jheselbraum’s smile instantly vanished, replaced by mild annoyance. “Yes and no. Technically, he caused this a year ago when he tried to take over your dimension. But he was made of that energy, and energy doesn’t just go away. When he died, all the power that he wielded got stuck in between this world and his.” 

“It’s either Bill or the universe ending?” Stanford swallowed. “Doesn’t seem fair.”

Jheselbraum just shrugged. “The universe doesn’t exactly care about fair.” She stared at the chalkboard for a moment, brow furrowed. It was much easier to read her expressions now that she had a human face. “There’s something that’s been bothering me.”

“What is it?”

She tapped the numbers she’d scribbled down. “Even with the surplus of energy, it shouldn’t be… altering matter. Not at such a rate anyway. It takes millions of years for a lifeform to be corrupted like that. But with Waddles, it seemed to happen within minutes, if not seconds.” She shook her head. “Entropy is inevitable, but it’s not instantaneous. It’s almost as if whatever corrupted Waddles pushed it forward.”

Ford shuddered. “You’re implying it was done deliberately? By someone?”

“…I wouldn’t jump to that conclusion just yet.”

“Bill,” Ford said immediately. “If it was anyone-”

“It wasn’t him,” she said calmly. “He’s powerless.”

“Or he wants us to think that!” Ford ran a hand through his hair, thinking of all the worst possible scenarios. Had Bill been playing them all for fools? Had he really been at their mercy this whole time? Or had he just been waiting for the right moment?

The Oracle regarded him with an unwavering gaze, almost like she knew exactly what he was thinking. “Ford, he’s a drama queen. And horribly impatient. Do you really think he’s spent so long pretending and putting himself in humiliating situations on purpose?”

Ford breathed out slowly. “Alright, I see your point. But J-…” he suddenly remembered that she’d gone by a different name at some point, and felt a rush of shame that he’d forgotten it. “Nora? Forgive me, I’m not sure what you prefer.”

Her gaze softened momentarily. “I’ve gone by many names. The one you know me by is just the latest. The other one…is very old.” She looked past him. “Call me whatever you like.”

“Nora,” he amended. He felt a little thrill at addressing such a renowned creature by a name he assumed not many knew. “If it’s not Bill…”

Then what could have done this?

---

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[tomorrowusa]

In 2016 we had But Her Emails. In 2024 we have Biden Is Too Old. The sources of these two lines haven't changed: the flailing GOP with an assist by bothsiderist news media.

Yes, it's the same old distraction technique to draw attention away from the leader of the Republican Party who is an adjudicated sex offender who just lost a gigantic lawsuit based on his past use of fraud.

It's time to push back and aggressively. And successful messaging is repetitious messaging – get used to repeating things if you wish to cut through the noise.

But the main thing is not to freak out and to play offense instead of being defensive. For example: Why are so few people on our side bringing up Trump's unhealthy lifestyle? Drinking 12 Diet Cokes® a day and copious chomping of double cheeseburgers wouldn't be recommended for somebody half his age. And what kind of drugs is he being prescribed?

[A]ll of the #BidenTooOld coverage is about as new and revelatory as #ButHerEmails. If nothing else, it proves that a scandal holding that the president forgets things is always going to go down smoother than a scandal in which a special counsel flagrantly violated a long-standing Justice Department practice and protocol not to “criticize uncharged conduct.” As Sullivan was quick to point out, CNN and the New York Times and every U.S. corporate media entity and its cousin jumped onto the bandwagon. [ ... ] Perhaps one way to navigate yourself through this seemingly insoluble morass would be to ask yourself why Biden, who is stipulated #Old, has managed to helm the most successful presidency in modern history. Booming economy, eye-popping jobs reports, first gun violence reduction bill in decades, $1.9 trillion American Rescue Plan plus COVID relief, Inflation Reduction Act, infrastructure prioritized, judges seated. Pick your metric—there have been a lot of wins. And the reason this old man who sometimes forgets things like dates has gotten all this done? He has, for the most part, surrounded himself with experts, genuine scientists, respected economists, and effective governmental actors and advisers. Governance is not an action film. There is no minute-to-minute psychodrama involving someone in a tight black T-shirt mincing along the outdoor ledge of a skyscraper, ninja-kicking his lonely way down to the stairwell, where he karate-chops the well-armed baddies and then commando crawls his way into an empty vault with the glass chest where the nuclear reactor sits. No. Despite our fascination with the Great Man theory of American lawmaking, the presidency is an office that largely turns on superb staffing, visionary planning, deft political negotiation, and artful execution. Joe Biden doesn’t actually have to remember every single detail himself—he has to use his judgment to employ and empower a large contingent of skilled experts to execute upon their agreed-upon vision. If you are unconvinced, the best evidence that we keep falling for Great Man fantasy propaganda is the unmitigated failure of the first Donald Trump presidency. Here we had a self-described loner literally trumpeting his I-alone-can-fix-it worldview, all embodied in Great Man megalomania. He managed to accomplish virtually nothing: Almost none of his promises for single-handed economic revitalization, world domination, or intrepid urban crime-solving panned out. His great dreams were either strangled in infancy by staffers or halted by courts. And whether you believe that this happened because Donald Trump surrounded himself with incompetent yes men or steely adults in the room, both versions serve to offer proof of concept: Donald Trump accomplished close to nothing because the people around him were either too inept to put his vision into practice or too skillful at blocking him to allow him to put his vision into practice. Put another way, if you or anyone you know finds themselves reacting to the Biden Is Old revelations with the thought that, sure, Donald Trump is a 91-indictments-richer, adjudicated sexual abuser, defamer, liar, violator of national security, self-enriching, fascist-boosting insurrectionist, but it’s OK because he will surround himself with people who might check those impulses—well, doesn’t it rather intuitively make more sense to instead vote for the highly effective, internationally respected, but yes, sometimes forgetty guy who is surrounded by people with day planners?

A president is a lot closer to being a CEO than a superhero. And when it does come to being businesslike, Trump has declared bankruptcy six times – approximately six more times than Biden. Trump's business "skills" lean heavily towards fraud, deceit, and bullying.

The real reason we all keep falling for Great Man horse race stories is because they are good for fueling fantasies of all-powerful big daddy presidents who control every tiny aspect of governance in their tiny wee hands. If that is your jam, well, it would make sense to vote for the only candidate who believes in the same dream. If it’s not, the question is reducible to rather simple stakes: Do you want the Big Daddy who surrounds himself with sycophants and nutters and people with shared last names, or the one who surrounds himself with competence and expertise? This doesn’t seem, on balance, like a really tricky call. Do we prefer presidents who can backflip and ninja-kick their way to total world dominion? Perhaps. To my knowledge, nobody ever made a Tom Cruise movie about listening and learning and compromising. But if you still believe governance to be a sober and serious enterprise, vote like the alternative is chilling, because it is.

Trump flatters himself as a "stable genius". But it is Biden who brought stable governance back to the US. Being a constantly ranting gasbag is not an indicator of competence.

Very little attention is being paid to psychological age. Trump is just 42 months chronologically younger than Biden, but Trump acts like a toddler who is not yet 42 months old.

Parents with kids who were constantly having temper tantrums and being frequently disruptive would consider taking those kids to a child psychologist. Being a disruptive narcissist in his late 70s does not make Trump seem youthful but instead more like a case study for arrested development as a toddler.