#Stan is in so many because I HATE drawing the triangle over people. actual HELL DECISION.

[cleocatrablossy]

Perfect day to post redraws of @kerink ‘s Margaritabille AU

This was supposed to just be Bill and Ford but as I was watching the video it quickly spiralled out of control

[whysoseven]

What Scares a God

A short tidbit that I wrote back in January and promised to post ages ago.  Based on the human Bill AU made by @doodledrawsthings (Here!) and @videogamelover99 (Here!), which is based on Flat Dreams by @pengychan 

Summary: Being less immortal hasn’t made Bill any less of a dick. Rating: T for some language I guess? Fandom: Gravity Falls

Ford hated him.

It didn’t matter what form Bill took.  Triangle, human, he would always be the same monster on the inside.  Something that, despite the summer’s previous events, his family didn’t seem to understand.

He knew Dipper was leery of the man, as he should be. Stan and Mable, however, had begun to accept the demon’s presence and let him into their lives.  It made Ford sick to his stomach, watching him walk around the house in his Mable made sweater as if he belonged there.  When Ford had caught him sleeping with the children in front of the television he damn near had a heart attack.  He would be lying if he said he hadn’t considered shooting him before Stan had walked in and stopped him.

Because of that monster it was nights like these that Ford couldn’t sleep.  Nights that were too much like the ones before he was pulled into the portal, back when self-induced insomnia was the only thing protecting his mind from the false muse.  Being home, being in his bed, it was too similar for him to relax.  The insomnia was an automatic reaction, one what was now unwanted but unavoidable, and because of it Ford was left staring at his bedroom ceiling with only his thoughts to pass the time.

That was until he heard glass shattering in the kitchen.

Ford was out of bed in an instant.  With gun in hand and footfalls silent, Ford stepped out of his room and listened for the source of the disturbance.  For a moment he heard nothing, and then quiet swearing broke the silence.  Ford crept towards the kitchen, grip on his gun tightening.  Though he recognized the voice it wasn’t exactly reassuring.  If anything, it was very much the opposite. The idea of that beast roaming the house while everyone else was asleep was not a comforting one, especially when he considered how many sharp, dangerous objects were readily available in the kitchen.  If Bill was capable of killing his own family, as Ford long suspected he had, then a Pines family massacre was not out of the question.

As Ford approached the doorway he glanced around the frame.  Though the lights were off, the moonlight coming in through the kitchen window illuminated the room just enough for him to see a disgruntled Bill Cipher sweeping up a pile of glass as he grumbled to himself.  Ford couldn’t help but feel relief when he noticed Bill hadn’t gone for the knives.

Yet.

“Circles, Sixer, will you knock it off?”  Bill paused his sweeping to look up at his hiding spot behind the door frame, his brow furrowed. “I swear I can hear thinking.”  Panic swept through Ford before he added, “And no, I can’t read your mind, you’re just painfully obvious.  Embarrassing, really.  Kind of sad.”

Ford hesitated before he stepped out from behind the entry way.  His pistol was lowered but he kept his finger hovering over the trigger.  “You’re up late.”

“Early,” Bill corrected.  “At least, going by your backwards human concept of time measurement.  Most societies wait until, you know, daylight before they call it morning.”

Ford shot him a soft glare.  “I don’t recall asking you.”

Bill fell silent, casting his gaze towards the ground and continuing his sweeping. Ford watched, intent on not letting him out of his sight until he was satisfied Bill would be in bed until morning.

“You know, I don’t need a supervisor,” Bill said as he swept the glass into the dustpan and carried it to the trash.  He glanced over at Ford as he dumped it in.  “Believe it or not I can actually get a glass of water on my own.”

“It’s not the water I’m worried about,” Ford said, his tone sharp.

“Wha— “

“I’m not going to let you hurt them, Cipher.”  The statement was definitive, leaving no room for question.  Ford watched as Bill’s eyes were immediately drawn to the gun, realization flooding his features.  There was a moment of silence before he broke out into that high pitched, unhinged laugh that sent shivers up Ford’s spine.

Ford narrowed his eyes into a hard glare, his free hand tightening into a fist.  “What’s so funny?”

Bill cackled a bit longer before straightening, shaking his head.  “For such a braniac you sure are dense, you know that?”

“What are you talking about?”

“I’m talking about your flawed logic, Sixer,” Bill said, amusement quickly replaced with a grim expression.  “Let’s say I hurt them.  Let’s say I kill them.  Then what?”

Ford hesitated, taken aback by the question. “Well, I’d imagine you’d carry out whatever plan you have to escape your body.”

“Escape?”  Bill looked at his as if he’d grown a second head.  “There is no escape.  This arrangement, this meat sack, it’s a last resort.  The only thing I have left.  There’s no getting out of it, I’m stuck with it until it dies.”

Ford furrowed his brow in confusion.  That couldn’t be right.  Bill always had an ulterior motive in mind.  “So, then, what?  You kill us and fulfill some grand master plan to take over the world?”

Bill surprised him with a bitter laugh, his expression one of… if Ford didn’t know any better he’d say it was regret.  “Take over the world?  I don’t know if you noticed but I can’t even go out to eat without drawing attention to myself.”  He turned to get a new glass out of the cabinet.  “Just because I watched humanity for thousands of years doesn’t mean I paid attention to the nuances, I don’t know how to navigate your world.  I think we both know how long I’d last if I left.”

“So, what are you saying?” Ford asked.  “That I’m supposed to believe you’re safe?  That’s I’m supposed to just trust you?”

“I’m saying fear is one hell of a leash, Sixer,” Bill growled.

“You’re practically a god!  What could you possibly be afraid of?” Ford retorted, not bothering to hide his irritation. “Sanity?  People standing in an orderly line?  Not being a dick for once in your life?”

“Death!” Bill snapped, slamming the glass down onto the counter.  The anger was quick to fade and it left Bill hunched over the counter, shoulders slumped in defeat and voice uncharacteristically quiet. “Death scares a god, Sixer.”

Ford looked at him in disbelief.  “Why would that matter?” He asked.  “It’s not like you’ll die when that body does—“ Bill shot him a look that made the word catch in his throat.  Realization hit Ford when it occurred to him that it was possible that Bill was, in fact, no longer immortal.  “Oh.”

Bill stayed still a moment longer before rubbing his face with a heavy sigh.  “You know what?  I’m not thirsty anymore.”  He let go of the glass, turning to walk out of the kitchen.  “I’m going back to bed.”

Ford just stared at the glass as Bill walked away, listening to the soft sound of his footsteps on the wooden floorboards.  Suddenly, everything made sense.  Bill Cipher was dying, and that terrified him.

Ford stood there for a moment longer before clicking the gun into safety and sliding it back into his holster.  He guessed he no longer had to worry about Bill hurting his family.  After all of that he just didn’t seem like much of a threat anymore.