#its got Billford if that’s you’re thing

[endermagpieart]

I can’t get myself to finish or post my own fanart/AUs for Bill, but for other people’s stuff? My brain says no problem!

Anyways this is fanart of a scene from the fic Who Knew A Demon Could Break? By Fyn_Lives_In_The_Void over on ao3! The author asked for fanart of Bill in the orange sequin jumpsuit (you know, from the Stan’s Wrong Song?) and it was a very funny mental image so who am I to deny them?

[fandom]

Top 24 of 2024

Well, well, well, look what we have here. If it isn’t 52 weeks’ worth of data drawn from the exemplary original posts you’ve been producing day in, day out, combined with the likes, reblogs, and search data—all of it weighed, ranked, and presented here for your viewing pleasure. In news that will come as a shock to no one at all, 2024 was the year of Artists on Tumblr. But quite right, too, as just a cursory scroll through the fanart, illustrations, digital pieces, paintings, textiles, and more will attest. It’s a goldmine. But this ain’t just any goldmine, this is your goldmine, and we’ve got abundant gratitude for the wonderful work you’ve shared this last year. 

Dungeon Meshi won hearts and minds with its cozy feel, its cookery, its cast of eclectic, likable characters, and a delightfully off-center vibe. Farcille made for the sapphic love story we didn’t know we needed—and the inspiration for endless, exquisite fanart. There was much appreciation for season one, and excitement abounds for season two. But there were endings as well as beginnings, sadly, as the much-loved Jujutsu Kaisen brought six years of sublime storytelling to a close with Chapter 271. Good faced Evil, a nephew faced an uncle, and some really liked it, and others really did not. Discourse ensued, as discourse is wont to do. 

Television! And lots of it! 2024 was the year in which animation ruled supreme with an embarrassment of riches to plunder. Gravity Falls and The Book of Bill became your fall fixations and simply refused to stop trending for seemingly an age (a Good Thing). Bill Cipher and Stanford Pines both made the Top 24 in their own right as you shipped them to high hell, with Billford coming top of Ships for 2024. Speaking of Hell, Hazbin Hotel was the new kid on the block. And, after a five-year wait, the new kid charmed—it was filthier, funnier, raunchier, and more heartfelt than you could have hoped for. 

When it comes to hope, the times continue to be challenging, and the news can threaten to overwhelm. 2024 was no different. But you all painted the dash every color of the rainbow, stood loud and proud, and supported your ever-growing community online and offline in the struggle for LGBTQIA+ rights. While folks continue to voice their distress and concern for the ongoing crisis in Palestine, they also fight the good fight with activism and fundraising efforts across the dash. These may be dark days, but you all work tirelessly for the greater good as only you know how.

Looking after oneself is vital in these trying times, and you’ve all done just that in your own inimitable fashion. Cats still rule Tumblr as bears still poop in woods, and everyone has taken essential time to peruse the dashboard’s plethora of cat GIFs, cat art, boopin’ cats, cats of yore, and so on. You’re keeping things similarly wholesome with some more Tumblr mainstays: cottagecore, and its sister aesthetic, naturecore, imagine a simpler, greener, and quieter time. A time where the breeze billows softly through the long grass and gently turns the blades of the windmill; a time where we, too, might poop in woods.

The only thing more important than looking after oneself is treating oneself, and what better way to do that than gaming? Baldur’s Gate 3 made a most impressive leap from #21 last year to #7 in 2024, as the need for sexy monsters and beautiful beasties becomes ever more imperative with each passing year. Pokémon may have dropped a little from five to 11, but these games and shows still hold a dear place in your hearts—as demonstrated by your bountiful and beautiful fanart.

Here are the 24 most-mentioned things on Tumblr in 2024.

Artists on Tumblr

Palestine

Dungeon Meshi

Gravity Falls

Hazbin Hotel

Baldur's Gate 3

Cats of Tumblr

Jujutsu Kaisen

The Batman Universe

Pokémon

One Piece

Good Omens

Marcille Donato | Dungeon Meshi

Laios Touden | Dungeon Meshi

Cottagecore

Hermitcraft

LGBTQIA+

Bill Cipher | Gravity Falls

Naturecore

Doctor Who

Percy Jackson

Falin Touden | Dungeon Meshi

Stanford Pines | Gravity Falls

Jason Todd | the DC universe

Feeling inspired? Want to create a dedicated place to discuss the things you love with the other people who love them? Create a Community here on Tumblr to do just that.

[stump-not-found]

A03 wrapped 2024

tagged by @tempusedax-rerum >:DDDDD

1.) Biggest surprise while writing this year?

how much people responded to bill cipher saying daddy . how people have interpreted ford's relationship to mabel in theseus' guide; i've really tried to write him as really caring for her so seeing that interpreted as him disliking her is so interesting haha

most of all tho i'm just surprised and very grateful that theseus has received any attention, it's been so so wonderful reading everyone's thoughts and seeing them engage with the fic . it really makes the entire process so gratifying, and i hope folks continue to enjoy where the story goes next :D

2.) How many WIPs do you have in your docs for next year?

i've got my erotic billford rom com Can of Snakes that's over 20k right now . it has banger titles such as "sad handjob" and "penicular sounding", so someday i'll be posting that . i think they can make it work

i also just started Weirdmageddon 2: Electric Boogaloo: Lost In New York, an AU where ford gets stan to help him finish the portal after kicking fidd's to the curb . stan and bill become besties, ford hates it, and bill isn't allowed to destroy new york until he tries a slice of 'za .

this is not accounting for the mountain of comic WIP's i have but that shit aint goin on ao3

3.) Favourite character to write this year?

ford for sure . you give me a character who's autistic in a way that isn't cute and it just means the world to me . i get to give him evil autism . the autism where we acknowledge growing up autistic is traumatizing and makes you not a nice person all the time . fuck i love him . i get to dump so much of my own shit on him its so funnnnnnn yay lalalala

there was a whole paragraph i wrote that was just describing the perfect eye angle to maintain when walking through a farmers market to avoid social scenario's, which i had to remove because it was just me rambling about my own social survival strategies . farmers markets are dangerous places

i also love writing him in the context of bill . what a fucking mess they are i hope they never get better . but together <3

4.) The character that gave you the most trouble this year?

honestly stanley pines . i feel like i soften him too much, and lean in to his more positive traits than his more negative ones . it's hard because i feel like folks don't talk about the fact he was homeless for like 10 years & also had a breaking bad style adventure in columbia

the other problem is that he IS a big softy so idk . but he should be bitchier god damn it . he should be talking about his cataracts

6.) Did you receive any gifts this year?

I DID YOU INSANE PEOPLE thank you all it make a me smile:

@stemmmm @ancharan @kronehaze @sillyhyperfixator @ezrathean0n

7.) Did you do any collaborative works this year?

i feel like all my writing is collaborative!! i spend hours talking fic stuff with my wife & brother and my stuff is all the better for it . would love to do more of that w/ other folks i love it talking and thinking and playing is so fun

8.) What do you listen to while writing?

i don't like listening to music when i write lol ...... i sit in the cold silence and type in a frantic spiral .

i listen to a lotta different things while i think of things to write tho . atm all i want in the world is to make a theseus animation to this song it's very hammercore :

9.) Favorite line/passage you wrote this year?

oogh that's hard to choose . i'm just gonna share a bunch that make me laugh

from theseus' guide step six:

Dipper, clearly, doesn’t get it, and Ford acknowledges he is too young to understand a professional working relationship.

also from step six:

“Oh, sure, I can move on,” Stan grins, “To the other items on my list. A, the shack’s toilets all suck, and the seats keep raisin’ automatically. B, your handwriting sucks. C–”

from theseus' guide step three:

“You think you’re coming back anytime soon?” “No, 8-Ball, I don’t think I’m ‘ coming back ’ anytime soon.” Ford snides, though 8-Ball either doesn’t register that, or doesn’t care; hard to tell with the guy, “I’m sure you’re aware, but your boss wants to kill my family. And destroy my universe. ” 8-Ball sniffs. “Cool. Mind if I eat your leftovers then? Teeth keeps eyeing them.” Ford frowns, “You couldn’t have just brought them with you?” “Nah, man, I want to eat them.”

lots of lines from step eight but we ain't there yet

uuuuhhghhg who to send this chain mail along to uuuhgghgh

@beccadrawsstuff if u wannaaaa . anyone else feel free to pick this up as well i'm bad at this lol

[bill-ciphers-nightmare-blog]

WELL, WELL, WELL, HELLO, HELLSITE!

NAME’S BILL CIPHER, BUT YOU MIGHT KNOW ME AS YOUR PREVIOUS LORD & MASTER FOR ALL OF ETERNITY , OR BY A THOUSAND OTHER NAMES AND POSTERS!! I’M EVERYWHERE!

NOW I GUESS YOU’LL BE WONDERING HOW I’M EVEN HERE, RIGHT? “Oh no! But Bill, you’re supposed to be dead!” WELL, WHAT CAN I SAY? I’M A GOD- AKIN TO AN INEXTINGUISHABLE COCKROACH!! FACE IT, YOU KNEW I’D BE BACK.

AND BEFORE YOU ASK ABOUT THERAPRISM— DON’T!! ALL YOU NEED TO KNOW IS THAT I’M HERE NOW, SO YOU MIGHT AS WELL GET USED TO IT! COME ON KID, MAKE THE MOST OF IT! IT’S NOT EVERY CENTURY YOU GET TO TALK TO A DREAM DEMON! YOU’RE LUCKY! GO ON, BEFORE I DECIDE YOUR SKIN PUPPET LOOKS BETTER WITHOUT A HAND IN IT! HAHAHAHAHA

Hi there! ‘Tis me, the one wearing his exoskeleton! I wrote this introduction a whiiile ago, but I’m editing it to include some info.

△

Who’s yapping

buy gold: Bill speaking tag!

hologram: Mod speaking in post tag! (I talk in the tags themselves all the time.)

Other tags!

ford pines: These are self-explanatory, but this universe’s Ford in particular is the lovely @grunklefordpines! Interactions usually lead to the billfordivorce tag, which I highly recommend.

the siren: The spectacular @stanfordssiren! Calypso’s the name. Once dated & nearly drowned Ford, but since remeeting with him has been trying to become a better person, even giving up her diet. She and Bill fight a lot, namely because they both want Stanford and dislike each other due to circumstances. Related tags that may result: sirenford & sirenfordivorce.

henchmaniac(s): Those guys! Found at @henchmaniac-kryptos & @henchmaniacteeth.

the axolotl: No particular Axolotl for the universe- Bill interacts with quite a few now and then.

There are other characters that exist in this universe- A lot! Most that Bill hasn’t interacted with that much yet, but they’ll/they’d be found in the tags stan pines, mabel pines, dipper pines, fiddleford mcgucket, and so on. Follow them because they’re awesome and for extra context and plot and stuff!

-

bill meet up: Any time other Bills interact with mine.

euclydia / scalene and euclid: Any time they’re mentioned or interact. Angst! Yay! Pain is hilarious!

billford: Self explanatory, and rarer than billfordivorce.

theraprism: Anything about that. Bill is also currently here for the foreseeable (?) future.

-

billypso: The arc in which Bill got someone dubbed (by Mabel) as “Wrongzilla” (Also played by me) came to Calypso and manipulated them over a few days into a deal with a disguised Bill. He possessed her to restart Weirdmaggedon (& prevent her and Ford from getting close again) and there was much chaos in which many fell under the hypnosis of Cal’s song. In the end, a theraprism therapist called Francis Paradox showed up on the Axolotl’s behalf to stop Billypso, but failed rather quickly. Billypso and The Axolotl had been arguing, and as Bill did not heed its threats/warnings, he was stripped of all of his powers, which finally slingshot him out of Cal and back into his cell.

billypso aftermath: The current arc! Cipher is furious about what happened and adjusting back to Theraprism. Meanwhile, the rest are newly traumatized and attempting to mend what was broken. Bill wants to regain his powers. We’ll see when that happens.

△

Think that’s about it! Now remember, don’t take what Bill says to heart. He says Cipherish things- It’s terminal. We all know who he is. A deeply messed up triangle. So please do not take any actual offense!

Thank you! Please interact, & let’s get weird!! :)

– @floralstorms, mod.

[toytanks]

Slightly OOC BillFord request but- could I request a little bit of Ford being tempted by the dark side and just giving in? I don't mind which era :) I just want more of Ford WANTING to give into corruption!

finished! :3 ao3 version is here!

“Come now Fordsy, you’re no better than I am!” Bill cackled. “Take a look around us IQ! This dimension is burning ‘cause of you, and you love it.” He floated closer to Stanford, whose face was beginning to betray him. Ford took a few steps back.

“I- What, no! I’d never!” He looked around himself, at the destruction and chaos. Towers crumbled, fire raging through the streets, smoke blocking out the sun. Because of him. He swallowed, disgusted as the satisfaction and sense of power it brought. 

“I- I…” He trailed off as Bill wrapped an arm around his shoulder, fingers playing down his arm.

The demon floated slightly away and extended his arm, hand engulfed in blue flames, sharply contrasting the angry red-orange of the embers in the air. “Admit it Stanford. You’re one of us.”

Ford stared out at the destruction around them, sick delight working its way up his spine as a building collapsed nearby. He looked away, hand trembling as he grasped Bill’s sealing the pact.

Bill grinned, yanking the man forward before softly gripping his jaw, leading him to face the demon. Ford swallowed staring into Bill’s eye, his mouth dry. They kissed, softly, gently, lips barely brushing before Bill pulled back eye lidded and cupping Ford’s cheek.

Bill’s arms stretched, wrapping around the man and pulling him into the smokey sky. Ford shut his eyes as they rose, leaning into Bill. He felt the demon chuckle and hold him tighter. A faint smile wormed its way onto his face.

“Here Fordsy, have a taste of what’s waiting for you. Don't say I never gave you nothin’.” 

Ford shook, going ramrod straight at the influx of power from Bill. It was amazing. There was lighting in his veins, arcing and begging for somewhere to go. Molten fire wove into every single fibre of his being, capping each nerve ending. He gazed into the sky, vision swimming with the force of a tornado, and he felt like the thrumming in his chest could collapse into a blackhole if he let it. Bill ran a hand across his cheek to get his attention and, by god, he was beautiful. Bill was fire and light and would burn him if he got too close but he ached to get lost in his azure flames, to let the power coursing through Bill’s sacred geometry sing in tandem with the liquid lighting in his veins. Let Bill tear him open and rip out his heart and make him his in every sense of the word.

One of Bill’s arms wrapped around his, inky like an abyss and pulsing with darkness, dragging his arm straight and positioning his hand to be outstretched, palm open. Power coursed to his fingertips, arcing and hungry.

“Aim at that building over there.” Bill’s voice was low and raspy, an uncharacteristic whisper. It was the only thing Ford ever wanted to hear.

Lightning and fire coalesced in the palm of his hand like a miniature sun, and Ford almost wanted to cradle it like a baby. Bill’s fingers tangled in his hair and it made his nerve endings sing with pleasure. 

“Fire.” The demon murmured, and he did.

[bordapanic]

Crazy Little Thing Called Love (2/?)

Words: 1,600~ || CW: None yet || During his third year of college, Ford meets someone called Bill. Things progress dangerously and quickly after that. (Billford fic) || CH 1 | CH 2 | CH 3

Note: All The Chemical Talk Is Far From Factual And Was Excessively Made Up.

Ford would be lying if he had said he hadn’t gotten nervous when his professor arranged for another psych ward visit. Frankly, the class was... he didn’t want to quite say boring, but compared to his other classes it wasn’t as interesting to him. His curiosity sparked up whenever the more neurological mechanisms came up in lecture, but so far that had rarely happened.

That being said, the last ward visit had been the most interesting thing to happen in this class. However, thinking that he may potentially see Bill again had him nervous. It’d be rude to pretend not to notice him, but at the same time he was nervous what another conversation with him would yield. Or rather how he was even suppose to act, really.

It wasn’t as though he was a classmate, after all. Or even just someone he saw regularly on the bus. Whatever the social etiquette for this entailed, Ford didn’t know what it was and he was far from asking anyone about it. Just trying to explain the ‘situation’ itself, if he could even really call it that, felt ridiculous with how he had spent virtually less than a few minutes talking to Bill.

It’d perhaps be easier, if he knew he indefinitely wasn’t going to be at the ward again. Considering how early it was into the semester though, he seriously doubted that.

As it stood, he couldn’t find it in himself to walk by and pretend to completely miss the man. If he did, he’d have to do that for all future trips, and he didn’t think he could even manage it once if he was being honest with himself. Additionally, Bill had told him to come back around, so it almost felt rude to purposefully avoid him. 

Which, in retrospect, the casual request was a bit odd. Really everything about the man had been a bit odd, though that probably shouldn’t be surprising considering where he was at.

Ford couldn’t help getting increasingly antsy once they’d gone into the hallway. The professor encouraged them to glance through the different case files that had been set beside the doors now.

He stayed in the middle of the hall for a few spare seconds before taking a breath and heading towards Bill’s cells. His anxieties were quickly dropped though as he noticed Bill in a straitjacket and several injuries on his face, the injuries looking worse the closer he got. There were a few cuts, but the worst offender was the bruised and swelling skin near his eye. “Are- Are you okay?”

Bill was sitting down on the floor beside the wall, close enough to the glass that it wasn’t too far away to properly talk. He gave him a lopsided grin as he noticed him. “Depends on which definition, you want to take there, huh.” He replied cheerfully.

Ford didn’t quite understand but reworded the question regardless, gesturing to his face. “I mean... I mean, did something happen?”

“Ha! ‘Did something happen?’ Let’s just say the service here is absolutely dreadful. Plus, the living arrangements don’t quite come up to standards for ‘human living.’” Bill said casually.

Ford admittedly hadn’t paid much attention to this place. He glanced past Bill into his room. It... certainly didn’t look pleasant. It took him a moment to fully realize the implication of what Bill was saying though. He looked back to Bill, again taking in the rough injuries on his face. “The guards...?”

“Yup. I’m not giving this place a five star review anytime soon.” Bill said, confirming his suspicions. Then as though it was a perfectly natural time to segway from the topic, he simply said. “Engineering.”

He understood the abrupt subject change, though it didn’t make it any more unexpected. He pushed down questions that he hadn’t even had a chance to voice. When had they attacked him? What prompted it? Was the straitjacket part of that or entirely unrelated? “Yes. Mechanical Engineering.”

His eyes lit up at that, and he whistled. “I knew you were just too smart to not be in engineering. I was more into chemicals myself.”

“You’re familiar with Chemistry?” He didn’t have any real reason to be surprised, he supposed, but he still was.

“Oh! That’s putting it lightly, pal. I bonded together several different polymers for my own use. Get the right components together and you can make yourself a pretty little gas that melts anything.”

“How?” He had heard of some chemicals that could melt metal down, but not necessarily anything in a gaseous form.

“Well you need iodine. Put it with the right stuff and it has this neat habit of getting in between the cells and corroding it right away! Don’t want to breath that stuff in, believe me.” He explained.

“It is a caustic agent.” He barked out half a laugh, less out of any actual humor and more out of the grim imagery catching him off guard. Iodine on its own was already bad enough.

Bill hummed. “Another major of yours, huh?”

“Ha... Is that another guess?” 

“Are they really guesses if I already know.” Bill answered with a smile.

Ford half smiles at that. “I really didn’t say much.”

"You had this look on your face though. You had an idea what I was talking about, thinking through something even.” He shifted his back against the wall. “What were you trying to figure out?”

“The oxide blend that would bond with the iodine without making it lose its properties.”  Ford answered honestly.

“An oxide, huh?” He said smugly.

It wasn’t an oxide...? “That’d be the best combination for covalent bonding though.”

“I never said this didn’t take some extra measures to make.” Bill said. “Try thinking along the lines of something less dense-”

“A nitrous blend.” He realized.

Bill blinked, really watching him now.

Ford barely noticed though, continuing almost to himself. “It allows for the iodine cells to separate enough to affect foreign cells while still maintaining the compound.” He reasoned, gaze drifting off as he thought. “It’d take a powerful depressurizer, but it could work.” A short laugh from Bill managed to get him to look back at him again.

“That’s right.” His eyes sparked brightly, sitting up from the wall. “Pick the wrong blend though and it’ll combust entirely! Good luck with trial and error here.”

“That’s amazing.” The precision it’d take to create the blend had to be flawless.

“You should see it when it’s working.” Bill said, looking off into the hallway. “Now that’s when everyone can see how amazing it is!” He seemed to get distracted, his eye catching on the various students in the hallway for a short while. 

“You know,” he started, looking back at Ford again, not bothering to reign his smile back. “You’re a real genius in the making, aren’t you?” The way Bill said it though it was no question. “Something special.”

A feeling bubbled up high in Ford’s chest and he laughed lightly. He couldn’t bring himself to deny the claim, even if it was a bit generous for knowing a little Chemistry. He had said ‘in the making’ though, and that could easily turn out to be true. “I suppose that depends on how I do in the future.”

Bill cocked his head. “Oh, it’s pretty obvious how you’re going to do in the future. You’re already surpassing all your peers.” He said, tilting his head to indicate the other students. “Three majors is already up there, and you’re already going past even that, smart guy.”

“Thank you...” A smile stretched across his face. Subpar university or not... well reasonably, his success in pursuing his majors thus far still must have meant something, right?

Bill slowly smiled, which was a tad confusing, though Ford didn’t have long to really think on it. “You know,” he started, “I bet you could even figure out the iodine compound.”

“I-” Well, on the surface it didn’t seem terribly difficult, but there had to be more to it though, of course. His mind already started on some possibilities before he thought of something. “Wait. Wait, you don’t mean actually making it, do you?”

“Oh, I’m sure you could do that too, but I just meant figuring out what goes in it exactly!” He continued. “It’s my own little concoction, nothing you could just pick out of a textbook. Actual problem solving, you know. You get three chances and I’ll tell you if you’re right.”

He was about to ask how many chemicals were involved, but then the professor started distantly calling for the class to regroup. Ford frowned, seeing other students starting to making their way back up the hall. He glanced back to Bill though to at least ask him one thing. “ What about hints?”

“Do you need any?” Bill asked him right back, an outright challenge.

Ford paused for half a second, then purposefully turned to rejoin his class in a silent answer to the question. 

No, he didn’t. He already knew the compound was composed of iodine and a nitrous blend. The rest he could figure out.

Regardless of getting to the ground before even most of the other students, his professor still gave him an odd look. “Were you just talking to a patient?”

“Uh, well- yes.” His mind had already been half buried with possible additional chemicals for the compound. “Didn’t we stop in this room to learn about the patients though?” He frankly hadn’t been paying very much attention due to his prior worry, but that had to be the point in this.

“Yes, but-” The professor took a breath, glancing beyond him for a brief moment. He sighed. “I meant to just look at their files, it has plenty of information in it. Just- You just need to be careful doing something like that here. They’re here for a reason. Please, make sure to exercise a little caution.”

“Of course, I will.” He promised. “I already am, Professor.” It’s not like he was unlocking the glass door or anything, after all. 

Nothing could be farther from dangerous than just simple conversation.

[kindafooey]

Symbioses

Here's a little birthday ficlet to my amazing friend @wolfmoonjournal! Have the most fantastic of birthdays, you ♡ Let's also make this a belated b-day present to @mooseings, who had their day of birth earlier this week! Both of these awesome peeps work with animals, and that's totally a theme here. :D You guys rock!

I apologize for the slight time inconsistency - the theory of social anthropology that appears in the ficlet wasn't actually coined until the late 90's, so Ford shouldn't really be aware of it. But it's one of my favorite interspecies development theories ever brought up in my philosophy lectures back in the day, so I had to use it nevertheless! I hope it does enough to justify its anachronistic presence. (Also please let me know if I majorly hecked anything up here, as it's really not my field of expertise. ;A;)

Pre-betrayal Billford, G-rated.

Ford let out a deep, harmonious sigh as he let his hands down on his crossed knees. The meditation techniques and the serenity of the Dreamscape were merely another drop in the ocean of all things his brilliant muse had taught him, and something he’d be eternally grateful to him for. He had never been a particularly good sleeper – his mind was constantly at work and allowed him very little rest, but now, he could simply empty and arrange his Dreamscape as he saw fit, slip into a meditative state and wake up to the morning sun in a state of complete, blissful relaxation.

Tonight, however, his mind was set on what it did best: research.

He opened his eyes and, with a light motion of his hand, brought his archived memories to surround him in the form of countless neatly arranged notes and hardcovers. Bill had suggested he should turn them into something more abstract, less constrained and easier to scan for the exact information needed, but Ford preferred to keep his knowledge in classic packages he could physically leaf through, even if it was a little more time-consuming.

He got up from his cross-legged position and reached to pick the nearest book. Social development of mammals. Hm, that wouldn’t do, seeing how it most definitely did not fit in the mammal class. Was it even a vertebrate? It certainly sported quite a few insect-like physical attributes, so should he begin his search from there instead? Ford frowned. This was not going to be an easy task.

Suddenly he felt a familiar presence flicker into existence right next to him, and it made his heart leap with joy.

“Top o’ the night to ya, smart guy!” Bill greeted with a cheerful tip of his hat.

“Bill! It is wonderful to see you”, Ford said, turning to face his muse with a delighted smile. “It has been quite a while since we last met.”

“Sure it has! Busy times, my friend. Busy times.” Bill looked around. “Well, I see you’re already hard at work on our transdimensional breakthrough! Good on you, Six – hold on.“ Bill squinted. “’Human vs. animal behavior.’ What’s all this?”

“Oh”, Ford laughed. “I apologize. I do plan to return to my portal calculations as soon as I have figured out this little side project of mine.”

Bill squinted again. “Side project?”

“I assume you know of the shapeshifter that recently hatched from its egg and is currently kept under scrutiny in the underground bunker. I am searching through my memories to gain some insight as to what would be the best way to go around its socialization process.”

“Hm, so you’ve got yourself another freak of nature to study! Hah, I can see the charm in that, Fordsy!” Bill winked. “By socialization, you mean domestication, right? That’s how you get yourself a nice obedient pet, y’know!”

“I feel the word ‘domestication’ doesn’t quite encompass what I wish to achieve with the creature”, Ford explained. “Shifty – that is what we call it – appears to be highly intelligent, far more so than domestic animals. I am yet to find out how much its social nature can be likened to that of other socially developed fauna, or perhaps even humans.”

“But you’re planning to keep it locked up and conditioned to your praise and care, right? Sounds like a pet to me! Or better yet, a lab rat!”

“Well… it’s a little more complicated than that. You see…” Ford fell quiet. Was he about to lecture his all-knowing muse? What an absurd idea. Then again… perhaps his muse was fluent first and foremost with the ‘what’, and did not bother himself with the intricacies of ‘how’.

He cleared his throat, mentally preparing a profuse storm of apologies in case he’d catch even the slightest sign of offense in his muse’s expression. “Perhaps this scientific anecdote will shed some light on what I mean. Recent developments in the theory of social anthropology suggest…” He looked around. “I could probably find the article I learned this from floating somewhere in here, if you wish to read it yourself.”

Bill swished his hand impatiently. “I’m a busy guy, so get to the point! We can fact check later.”

“All right. Studies have shown evidence that we did not, in fact, domesticate dogs. Instead, it would appear that they domesticated us.”

Bill let out a bark of laughter. “Hah! That’s a good one, Fordsy! Are you saying the tail wags the dog? Could the rumors about fluffy pooches controlling society from the shadows be true? Well, I’m not denying any possibilities here, that’s for sure! Everything your lot thinks it knows about the government is a bunch of lies, anyway! Hahaha, this is priceless!”

Ford smiled. His muse’s ability to find entertainment in every topic was truly astounding. “Allow me to explain. When humanity and the ancestors of the species we now know as dogs first came into contact, humans were yet to develop a truly social, cooperative nature that our current lifestyle, even our very essence as a species, is built upon. The early dogs, perhaps still wolves, approached us and eventually became our aid in gathering food. They followed us and guarded us from other predators, and received our protection and care in turn. It was a deeply symbiotic relationship that greatly benefitted both sides. However, they also taught us something completely new.”

Bill looked a little skeptical. “And what might that be?”

“Loyalty.” Something about saying this powerful word out loud made Ford blush slightly. “Friendship, one might even say. In the process of humans and dogs learning to share their territory and lifestyle, humans were taught new ways to communicate, express their affection and reach out for one another. Some even say that this interspecies cultural exchange could have played a crucial part in the very foundation of civilization as we know it.”

“Could be, could be!” Bill nodded along, still looking more amused than convinced. “But to be real with you for a second, Stanford, I don’t think your kind took the rule of this planet by the power of tummy rubs!”

“You are right about that”, Ford laughed. There was a hint of sadness in his voice as he continued. “However, I do not believe humanity is truly the cruel, greedy conqueror mastering all in its path that history often makes it out to be. With those who gaze back at us with no ill intent, I think we much more prefer… partnership.” His blush deepened, and he had to avert his eyes from the softly glowing entity before him.

“M-hm. Okay, whatever toots your philanthropist horn, Sixer!” Bill said, swirling his cane around carefreely. “So what’s this all got to do with your slimy little pet?”

“I would like to learn how to better understand it and fulfill whatever needs it may manifest. Shifty has already developed a primordial level of linguistic skills, and it uses that and a variety of other communicative means to interact with me. I do not wish to underestimate its social capability or misunderstand its intentions, that is all.”

Bill smirked. “Sounds like you’ve got it all figured out, so all I’m gonna say is good luck with that! I’m sure something that constantly changes its face has nothing but good will and friendly thoughts up its sleeve! A true gentleman, just like your old pal Bill!”

Ford smiled warmly at his muse’s gracious words of encouragement. “That does remind me…” he scratched the back of his neck awkwardly, his face still redder than usual. “Bill, I cannot possibly even imagine how much urgent business you must have on your plate. It is shamefully selfish of me to even ask this, but… if there is any way to arrange it… I would, uh, very much like to see you more often.”

“Hm?” Bill threw a curious look at him. “But you see me all the time, Fordsy, and vice versa! Isn’t that why you prepared all those artefacts portraying yours truly in your house?”

“I… I guess that is true. What I meant is… I want to talk to you like this, face to face. It is a great honor to be in your presence, and it gives me as much delight and joy as it inspires me. I love to hear your brilliant insight on everything between the moon, the sun and beyond. I learn so much from you, and, well…” Perhaps you might learn something from me as well. That much he didn’t dare say out loud.

“Hmmm…” Bill tapped the space below his eye in a thoughtful manner. “Well, get a move on with that portal project of ours, and I just might find the time to visit you every night!”

“W-what?” Ford’s eyes widened. “Every… every night?”

“Sure! You’re gonna need a hand to guide you to the right direction, anyway! We’re just getting started here, Fordsy! We have long nights of work ahead of us! Could take years, even!” He gave him another wink. “That sound often enough for ya?”

“Yes, it’s… more than I could ever hope for.” If Ford’s face hadn’t been burning by then, it now matched the crimson covers of the books around him. “I have no words to express my gratitude. I will do everything in my power to make it worth your while.”

“Peachy! I know you’ve got it in you, Brainiac. As long as you keep your eyes on the first prize and let side projects be side projects, I’m ready to stick with you for the long haul.”

Ford nodded, his chest filled with pride and enthusiasm. And perhaps something else.

He held out his hand. “I’m looking forward to our future endeavors.”

And when he felt the warmth of the black fingers and the coldness of pale blue fire, he was oddly convinced their joined hands brought to life something more than just a symbiosis.

[f-imaginings]

any news on your billford fic? i loved the last chapter

thank you! i loved the last chapter too, it was very fun to write. 

hopefully my schedule clears up a bit to allow for more writing. i’ve been unfairly busy lately, but i’ve got a good 25 pages of the next chapter done already. i feel like even though this chapter is a bit more fillery than some its going to be longish just to fit in everything i want to fit in. i could stand to break it up a bit though, i’ll see how i go. i might get to fit it all in the one chapter. 

because i’m so excited about this next chapter though, here’s an excerpt. bear in mind its a draft tho, things might change between here and publishing.

“You are uncannily happy for someone who’s got blood on theirlip, may I just say.” Ford commented, still a little perturbed by the bizarreway that Bill seemed to be over the moon about having a split lip.

Bill paused, and put his hand against Ford’s cheek, his eyesdarting across every detail of Ford’s face. “May I just say, I don’t think I’veever been more attracted to you Sixer.”

Ford looked mildly offended, and opened his mouth to defendall the other times Bill was clearly attracted to him, but was interrupted byBill tapping Ford on the nose, whispering teasingly just to drive the point home.

“Ever!”

“Oh puh-lease. Why don’t cha, WHY DON’T CHA GET A ROOM? HUH?”

Bill and Ford blinked, looking around the clearing, seeingvery little, until they dropped their gaze down from eye height, looking at twovery intoxicated, very little men hiding behind a bush.

Bill rolled his eyes, lamenting the interruption just asStanford adjusted his glasses and leaned down, resting his hands on his knees,peering down at the men.

“Gnomes!” Ford exclaimed with joy, examining the little men.

“Walkin’ around like yer own the place. This is worse thanFebruary all over again.” One of the gnomes slurred, leaning on the other,holding an empty acorn cup in his hand. “Cupid’sssss – cupid’s marrow.”

“I think they’re drunk.” Bill commented, tilting his head atthe gnomes.

“YOU’RE DRUNK!” The second gnome yelled, pointing his tinyhand up at Bill vindictively, before falling over with the momentum.

“Ohhhh, I wish.” Bill muttered to himself, watching the firstgnome try to pull his brethren up off the ground, his stalwart attempt causingthem both to fall over and giggle themselves senseless, until they began to sobhysterically.

“What funny little creatures.” Ford observed, inching closerto the gnomes, pulling his journal and pen out from his coat pocket. “Say, whatare your names?”

“Well I’m Gnorman, and this here is Gneville.” Gnorman thegnome offered helpfully, in between sniffles.

“Why are you talking to them?” Gneville elbowed his friend inthe chest callously. “They don’t know our pain. Just look at them! Swanningabout like a couple of peas in a pod.” Shaking his fist, Gneville ominouslyreiterated. “A love pod!”

Bill recoiled at Gneville’s wording, his lip curling, disgustedby the insinuation, whereas Stanford was somewhat more empathetic.

“What pain? What’s wrong?” He questioned, crouching downbeside the gnomes, curious.

“What’s wrong, he asks. Like the whole damn forest doesn’tknow already.” Gneville scowled, clutching onto his acorn cup like a lifeline.

“We just lost our Queen!” Gnorman confessed, his tonemournful and sombre.

“OUR QUEEN!” Gneville sobbed dramatically, falling to hisknees.

“For 200 years we’ve had her guiding us, watching over the forest.”Gnorman continued.

“She was so beautiful.” Gneville sniffled on every word, anunfortunate dribble of snot trailing from his nose.

“And now she’s gone.” Gnorman took off his pointed red hat,only to reveal another hat underneath, holding the first had in his handswoefully. “Cruelly taken from us, before her time.”

Ford was only half listening, pointing to the second hatunder the first hat and looking at Bill, an excited grin on his face. Who knewthat under a gnome’s hat was another hat? And what was beneath that hat, Fordwondered. The mysteries would never cease.

Bill smothered a laugh by clearing his throat awkwardly,amused by Ford’s reaction. Ford seemed to realise his giddy revelation wasn’tappropriate for the conversation at hand, and sobered up, polite concernreturning to his voice.

“Oh, uh, what took her, if I may ask?”

“A fox probably.” Gnorman admitted in a matter of fact tone. “Ora boy scout, I’m guessing. One of the fat ones.”

“Our vendetta against the boy scouts will be a gloriousrecompense for their transgressions.” Gneville shook his fist again, ragefilling his tiny body.

“We found what was left of her by the babbling brook, in theenchanted part of the forest.” Gnorman put his hat back on his head, nowwearing two hats once more. “May her majestic soul finally rest in peace.”

“The enchanted part of the forest.” Bill rubbed his chin,then placed his left fist soundly in his right palm like an idea had occurredto him. “Say, either of you wouldn’t be able to take us there, would you?”

“To the enchanted forest? What business do you have there?”Gneville asked cautiously.

“Why, to pay our respects to the Queen of course!” Bill saidbrightly, elbowing Sixer to play along. “And to raise a glass in commiseration.”

And that’s where we’re at so far. Ford still has to arm wrestle a unicorn for 30 hours. 

I hope you enjoyed the excerpt and are as excited about the next chapter as I am. Lots of good jokes to come! 

[shadowofthelamp]

Pet Sixer

Yep, getting this Pet Ford AU rolling. Like I said, I’d REALLY love to get suggestions!

Ao3 link here

Ship: Billford (more so later on)

Word count: 1020

Rating: Teen

Stanford woke up.

It took a moment for his head to clear, but when it did, he curled his hands into fists.

"Let me go, you insane, three-sided-" An attempt to step forward only tugged on his leg, and his momentum almost sent him toppling forward.

Something was around his neck. It was somewhat heavy, but not unpleasantly so- the interior was soft, like worn leather. His hands were still free, allowing him to explore it. The exterior was metal, with a dangling tag with something engraved on it.

S I X E R.

Equilateral son of a bitch had him collared like an animal.

Ford started rummaging around in his pockets, but only managed to tug apart a pen in attempt to make something to pick the lock before two things happened.

One, he realized there wasn't a lock- Bill must have manifested it right around his neck.

Two, Bill himself appeared.

He didn't just teleport in, no- a black bow tie manifested in front of the portrait of himself above the fireplace, then a hand swept around in a circle, revealing him in all of his glory.

"Welcome to the start of a new world, Fordsy."

"Bill." Ford swallowed down bile and a rather long list of rude names.

Surprisingly, Bill hadn't made himself huge like before. He wasn't the cat-sized being he'd been in the mindscape thirty years ago, but he was only about four feet tall.

"So, like what I've done with the place? I'd say it's an improvement. So much more exciting!" Bill snapped his fingers, and Ford's leg chain extended, body floating up to a window that appeared from rearranging bricks.

Gravity Falls was in chaos.

Or, rather, what was left of Gravity Falls was in chaos. The streets were neigh deserted but for the occasional mad dash from one building to another, and graffiti reigned, covering everything with sickening neon pleas for help or promises to do anything to be spared.

"I'm going to rip your eye out of its socket." Ford growled, but Bill tsked, shaking a finger.

"Don't be such a sourpuss, Sixer. What happened to the old Fordsy who did whatever I said?"

"He spent thirty years dodging your goons and space jail." Ford started squirming, but Bill's telekinetic grip was iron.

"Always dwelling on the past. Can't a guy get a break?" Bill twirled a finger and Ford spun in place before the chain suddenly stopped, yanking him to the ground. He landed on his face, biting his tongue to hold back a screech as pain and blood blossomed from his nose and cheeks.

"Tho, where are we?" Ford held his nose, trying to stem the bleeding. Gather information, assess the situation, formulate an escape plan. This was no different from any of the other dimensions back in the portal. Even if this was the worst possible ending he'd been avoiding in all those dimensions...

"The tip of the Fearamid!" A purple drink appeared in Bill's hand, and Ford nearly dropped a matching one as it slipped through his fingers. "Make yourself comfortable, you're gonna be here a while." Bill took a sip.

Ford intended to stay standing, but the ankle chain tugged him back, and he fell into a cushion with a raised ring around it.

No, wait, it wasn't a cushion, it was-

"Is this a dog bed?"

"Got it in one! Courtesy of an actual dog!" Ford's gaze shifted down to see pleading eyes, and he could feel slight breathing. "Don't worry, I took off those uncomfortable limbs." Any attempt to wriggle forward was futile- the chain had mostly receded into the floor, leaving him no room to move around.

"Ugh. What do you want?"

Bill set a hand just below his eye. "Aw, can't I just have a chat with an old friend?"

Ford's fingers grazed over the tag on his collar, and Bill rolled his eye.

"You're no fun anymore, you know that?" He floated forward, and pinched Ford's cheek. "Well, I figured that since you were the one that made this all possible, I should reward you somehow."

"And this is how? Not killing me?"

"If I'd wanted to, I would have." Bill said flippantly. "But you don't get it yet. I control everything now, and that means I can do whatever I want. That includes to you fleshbags." A finger snap, and Ford's ears were being melted, send through a meat grinder, set on fire-

He could hear /everything./. Both hands flew up to find where his ears should have been was just smooth flesh, while buried in his messy hair were a pair of fluffy, pointier ones.

"Humans find cats, cute, right? Personally I don't see the appeal." Bill reached forward to stroke Ford's hair.

"Why are you doing this?" Ford tried to snarl, but his voice wavered slightly.

"The tough guy thing doesn't suit you, IQ." The cat ears disappeared. "You're smart. Aren't you?"

The words had a taunting lilt to them, and Ford narrowed his eyes before scanning the surroundings.

The room looked like a typical apartment, albeit one with an eccentric decorator. There was a piano, a few couches, and a bar in the corner.  He was collared and had a chain keeping him anchored. He was sitting on a dog bed, and there were a few small bowls with Bill's nicknames written on the side.

Bill had said he'd 'reward' him.

It hit like a punch to the gut.

"You want to keep me as a pet."

Bill clapped his hands together.

"Give the man a prize!"

"You're insane. I'll never roll over for you."

"You never seemed to have a problem doing it before, Fordsy, but we'll see how you feel soon enough." Bill ruffled Ford's hair, before poking his nose, causing blood to start dribbling down again. "I've got a party ten billion years in the making to get to, but I'll be back soon, don't you worry!"

He was gone in a flash, and Ford was left to try and stem the bleeding and with a sick feeling that this couldn't possibly end well.

[sevralships]

“Bloodlust”

(Entry for asterism-pinoideae’s Creature of the Week Challenge. Mine was prompted by the Journal 3 entry on Giant Vampire Bats)

When young supernatural investigator Stanford Pines hits a road-block in his study of Gravity Falls’ Giant Vampire Bats, his mysterious muse encourages some unorthodox research. TW bloodplay, TW vampirism/autovampirism, TW cutting/self-harm, TW all sorts of fucked up Bill stuff, TW Stangst. Billford. NSFW, 4370 words

It had been a long night and Stanford’s body was weary as he hiked homeward through the trees. It wasn’t late in the day, no later than nine in the morning, but the humid heat was already becoming stifling. He had shucked off his jacket and undone the top couple buttons of his shirt, but he was still overdressed. He grumbled under his breath as he walked, feeling very tired and frankly, a bit cranky.

Not only had the night been long, but worse, it had been unproductive. Stanford had established a little makeshift camp up in the mountains, just down-wind of the caves that the Giant Vampire Bats inhabited. He had chosen the position due to its being down-wind, to avoid the perplexing and likely dangerous creatures catching his scent and deeming it too appetizing. He had not, however, given enough consideration to how miserable it would be to sit on a rock all night drowning in the scent of bat droppings. Even the stench of guano would have been worth it if he had learned anything, but he had left his stake-out post this morning with no more clues than he had started with.

“This town baffles me…” he muttered. He had not been in Gravity Falls for very long, but its strangeness (and the strange behavior of its residents) had been immediately quite apparent. It was that very strangeness that drew you here in the first place, Stanford, he reminded himself. It was why he was here. Not just why he was in this town, but it was also literally why he was here, sweaty, over-tired, stinking of bat excrement, and trudging through the woods, when he ought to be quietly nursing a leisurely cup of coffee. He should have suspected, perhaps, that in a town with so much strangeness that the people would adapt. He certainly had not anticipated the reluctance, the denial, the desire to turn the other cheek and pretend there was nothing abnormal at all. It seemed ludicrous, in a town where bizarre things were around every corner, that the people should be so willfully ignorant.

Ford realized he was scowling and took a deep breath. It won’t do me any good to pout about it, he thought, willful ignorance is fairly universal and I’m the one who was naive to expect it to be any different here. It had been wishful thinking, after all. That, perhaps in a place with so much weirdness, there would also be more acceptance. More of a place for him, more appreciation, more acknowledgement that he wasn’t just a freak, but special.

As if summoned by his griping thoughts, He appeared. The color bled out of Stanford’s surroundings in that way that wasn’t quite familiar yet and he felt him before he saw him, “HEY THERE, FORDSY!” he said, in that strange voice that Ford seemed to feel in his spine as much as hear in his head.

“Bill!” He said dumbly. His muse had chosen him a scant month before and he had not yet gotten the hang of casually greeting such a wise and celestial being. His legs mechanically kept walking through the grey landscape, Bill floating pleasantly along beside him.

Bill laughed and Ford smiled politely with him. He had observed that Bill often laughed when nothing funny had been said, as if he always had some inexplicable glee to express. He regarded the strange triangular being beside him, finding the simplicity and strange symmetry of Bill’s visage to be somehow pleasing. Bill’s aura was rippling in time with his laugh, his eye crinkled joyfully. Ford was so fortunate to have been blessed with a muse of such good humor and agreeable temperament.

“SOMEBODY’S FEELIN’ GRUMPY,” Bill observed, in the wheedling tone one might use to ask if their dog wanted a treat, “WHAT’S WEIGHING DOWN THAT BIG HEAD O’ YOURS, SIX?”

Ford’s cheeks felt suddenly warm, a bit embarrassed of his petty complaints now that it was Bill inquiring, “Oh, it’s nothing for you to concern yourself with,” he assured Bill. This splendidly wise entity had for some reason seen fit to choose him, and he’d be damned if he was going to waste Bill’s valuable time.

“AW FORDSY,” Bill protested. He sounded disappointed but somehow still like he was grinning. Ford tried not to wonder about how little either made sense considering Bill’s lack of a mouth, “DON’T HOLD OUT ON ME! I THOUGHT WE WERE PALS, YOU ‘N’ I!”

“We- we are!” Ford insisted, hoping he had not upset his muse too greatly, “I mean to say, I would be honored to be considered amongst your friends,”

Bill laughed heartily, “THEN TELL ME! WHAT’S BUMMING OUT MY NEW PET?”

Stanford laughed nervously at the word choice, but brushed it off. Bill often said things that seemed a bit odd or off-color, but Stanford assumed that sort of thing would come with the territory of being an ageless keeper of knowledge. Your vernacular might end up a bit dated and strange, “I am merely frustrated by my research,” he said, hoping to downplay how irked he was feeling.

“BUT YOU’RE A GENIUS!” Bill pointed out and Ford’s heart soared at the praise. He had always been a genius, but he had rarely been told as much, and surely not by anyone with Bill’s authority.

“You’re too kind,” Ford thanked, “I misspoke. I suppose it’s not truly the research that has frustrated me. I don’t expect the bats to make it easy for me, but the lack of cooperation from the townspeople is infuriating!”

“HM,” Bill said, rubbing under his eye as if thoughtfully stroking his chin, “THOSE PEOPLE SHOULDN’T CONCERN YOU, FORDSY,” he advised, “WHATTA SHEEP LIKE THAT KNOW THAT A PRODIGY LIKE YOU DOESN’T?”

Stanford tried to ignore the bright red flush he could feel on his face at Bill’s flattery and tried to play it off with a small laugh, “It’s funny you should say that, Bill, because sheep are all they’ll talk to me about!” Bill gestured for Ford to continue, “There have been disappearances in the town, and I suspect the Giant Vampire Bats are responsible. Many livestock animals, but more importantly, a couple people! An old woman, a homeless fellow, and a young child!” Bill’s face remained impassive (insofar as one could read the expressions of a triangle) so Ford kept on, hoping to underscore his point, “When I have inquired with townspeople, all they want to talk about is how many of their sheep have gone missing! How many cattle, how many goats! Innocent people are likely dead and these people…” Ford scowled, “They joke about it being mosquitoes!”

“OH, SWEET FORDSY,” Bill cooed, and Ford tensed, unsure if he detected sarcasm in his muse’s tone, “YOU BIG SOFTIE!”

“It doesn’t matter if I’m sweet,” Stanford said, his voice having picked up a slight defensive edge, “That won’t help me to deduce why these bats would be interested in eating humans!”

Bill laughed again, harder this time. His small black hands clutched over his tie, as cackling laughter shook his strange luminous form. Ford’s footsteps slowed a bit as he curiously watched his muse’s amusement. Just as he was accepting that he would never be able to puzzle out what had set Bill’s laughter off, the sage being stilled his laughter and without having to catch his breath (Ford supposed that made sense, as surely he didn’t actually breathe) exclaimed matter-of-factly, “BECAUSE HUMANS ARE DELICIOUS! ”

That stopped Ford in his tracks and he knew he pulled a face, “Bill, you’ve got to be joking!”

“DO I-HAHAHA!-SOUND LIKE I’M-AH! HAHA!-JOKING?” Ford opted not to answer, mulling over what Bill was implying. Was it possible Bill was not as altruistic as he seemed? Ford frowned, “AW, C’MON, FORDSY, -HEH...HAHA- DON’T BE SO CLOSE-MINDED!”

“I’m sorry, I don’t believe it’s close-minded of me to reject the idea of eating fellow humans,” Ford said a bit tersely.

“SHEESH, KID, NO ONE SAID ANYTHING ABOUT YOU EATING FELLOW HUMANS!” Bill gave Ford’s shoulder a teasing punch. The spot tingled strangely. Touches in this odd grey in-between were always strange, “ALL I’M SAYIN’ IS THERE’S NO BIG SECRET YOUR BATS ARE HIDING! THEY EAT HUMANS BECAUSE YOU’RE TASTY! ”

“...How do you know that…?” Ford asked, quietly, hearing the doubt that tinged his own words.

“OH, IS THAT WHAT YOU’RE WORRIED ABOUT?” Bill laughed fondly and reassured him, “YOU REALLY ARE A SOFT LITTLE HUMAN! I’M NOT GONNA EAT YOU!”

Although the idea of Bill eating him hadn’t actually entered his mind, he was glad to hear that those were in fact not Bill’s intentions. It did not however, entirely settle the unease in Stanford’s mind, “But Bill…”

“OH, THEY WERE ALL WILLING SACRIFICES,” Bill clarified further with a dismissive wave of his hand.

Ford blanched. Still not what I was getting at, “...Willing sacrifices?” he repeated, morbidly intrigued, “You’ve accepted sacrifices?”

“NONE OF THEM WERE AS SMART AS YOU, TRUST ME, YA DON’T NEED TO BE JEALOUS,” Bill said. Taking in the nonplussed look on Ford’s face, he explained, “NOT THE SMART ONES, BUT LOTSA HUMANS WOULD LINE UP TO SPILL THEIR GUTS ON A GOD’S ALTAR!”

His muse had never referred to himself as a god before. From a young age, Stanford had rejected religion in favor of science. As far as he was concerned, there was nothing any faith could explain better than what could be learned through even-headed logical observation. He was committing his life to explaining the unexplainable, finding the facts behind those things that most people waved off as fantastical. What a stroke of irony that he of all people should be favored by a god. He supposed the title fit Bill as well as any other. He was unfathomably wise, ageless, powerful, and the very spirit of generosity, offering his help and asking nothing of Ford in return. Stanford could not deny that he felt a deep awe in Bill’s presence.

He stopped in his tracks, and looked down at his feet, reminded suddenly of their Rabbi’s voice when he was growing up, describing how Moses was made to remove his sandals by the burning bush for he had stood on hallowed ground. Neither he nor his brother had ever taken that story or any of the others much to heart, but at this moment it seemed apt. Maybe he’d simply never understood what it meant before.

It only took him a moment to snap out of his uncharacteristic reverence. He raised his gaze to Bill again. The muse, or perhaps he was a god, was watching Ford with a look of curious bemusement. Ford wondered again how such a nondescript face could convey so much, when he remembered his initial confusion, “You don’t have a mouth,” he said flatly.

“WELL, YA DON’T HAVE TO BE RUDE,” Bill snarked, a laugh hanging close by.

“No, no, pardon me, I’m not trying to be rude,” Ford said, “How do you know how anything tastes if you don’t have a mouth?”

“OH THAT! LIKE THIS!” Without warning, Bill blinked and when his eye opened again, it wasn’t an eye at all but a fanged grin. The sight ought to have frightened Ford but it sent a thrill down his spine. This creature, be he a muse or a god or something else entirely, was a mystery that only grew more enticing. A black tongue wet Bill’s new lips and to Ford’s shock, the sight aroused more than curiosity in him. Before he could even wonder if it was normal for one to desire a deity, Bill was dragging his tongue up the side of Ford’s face. The lick tingled, more intensely than a less intimate touch, it prickled like a prolonged static shock. But as fast as the contact was there it was gone again. Bill smacked his lips and said, “LIKE I SAID, HUMAN IS DELICIOUS!”

Stanford stared as Bill’s mouth closed and opened again as an eye. He hoped his unbidden feelings of lust weren’t apparent, desperately forced them to the back of his mind, “Is… is that all you meant… by delicious?” he asked.

Bill laughed, “‘COURSE NOT! SURE YOUR SKIN TASTES FINE, BUT IT’S THE BLOOD THAT REALLY PACKS A PUNCH!” Ford hmm-ed thoughtfully, unsure what to say to all these new revelations about Bill, “YA REALLY CAN’T KNOCK IT TILL YOU TRY IT, SIX. ANYWAYGOTTAGOSEEYAAA,” And with a jarring suddenness, Ford was blinking his eyes open. He had continued walking along in a trance in that threshold where Bill seemed to dwell and he was not far from home now. He began walking more briskly, eager to get out of the heat and into a cold shower.

---

An icy shower, a few hours of dreamless sleep, a couple stiff drinks, and Stanford still couldn’t quiet the turmoil of his thoughts. Worry about the Giant Vampire Bats had given way to far less welcome concerns. Was there such a thing as gods? Was it absurd for a mortal to desire a god? What was so ‘delicious’ about human blood?

“What’s come over me?” he asked himself, disbelieving the strange trajectory of his own thoughts. He had always had such a clear idea of who he was, of who he wanted to be. And none of this quite fit into the picture he had of himself. The pursuit of knowledge had always been of the utmost importance to him, but this all seemed somehow different. These were not questions that could be answered with recorded data, these demanded something from a much darker more primal part of the human mind. The very part of his mind he had always tended to keep tightly shut. It seemed the arrival of his muse, this bizarre god (if that was really what he was) had presented more questions than answers.

Not nearly for the first time, Stanford caught himself wondering what Stanley would say to all of this. What would he think of Bill? Ford wondered, What would he think of me? Stanley had always hated hearing his brother called a freak, even when it was Ford saying it. How could he begin to understand what his twin’s research in Gravity Falls meant to him? Thinking about Stanley only made this all harder to parse. His complicated feelings about his estranged brother would have to wait. There had been a time when Stanley had been his partner in crime, but those days were long past and Ford had a new partner now. He knew that with their powers combined, he and Bill could achieve great things.

His face was already a bit warm from the liquor, but he felt his cheeks getting hotter. I’m only starstruck, he told himself stubbornly, That’s a perfectly reasonable response to a deity, is it not?  He had never experienced religious zeal and he wasn’t entirely sure that this was how it was supposed to feel. The memory of Bill’s ink-black tongue snaking over his sharp teeth came unbidden into Stanford’s mind yet again and he felt his trousers growing tighter. He groaned, grateful he was alone but embarrassed nonetheless. Religious zeal most certainly did not involve that. He tried in vain to ignore his body’s response to the thought of his muse, trying instead to consider the likelihood that some faiths incorporated sexuality more than the lax reform Judaism in which he’d been brought up. It was definitely true, but he was still quite sure that what he was feeling was wrong.

He shut his eyes in frustration, willing his bloodflow to return to normal and leave his penis out of this. After a moment it started slowly to work, and Ford immersed himself. He focused on the mysterious blood, flowing dark and unseen beneath his skin. He realized too late that he was getting too caught up in the thought, that his mouth was watering. Bill wouldn’t lie to me, he reminded himself, not sure if that was more comforting or unsettling, “It’s only blood,” he said out loud, opening his eyes and staring down at his hands, crossed on the table in front of him.

He spread all twelve fingers, looking down at the broad palms and extra extremities that had garnered so much teasing and self-doubt over the years. It always surprised him that something so stupid should make such a big difference to anyone, including himself. It didn’t make him any less functional or valid, it was just a strange genetic accident. Just like any other trait a human might have, it was just a blip deep down in their chromosomes, in their DNA, in their blood.

The blood is the life! Stanley would say, in a bad Transylvanian accent. Ford smiled bitterly at the memory of watching black and white movies with Stanley. How simple things had seemed, how far away it all was from Stanford’s present. He stared at his hands, the way the pads of his fingers were slightly rosy. He pressed his thumb and forefinger together, watching transfixed as the pressure turned his fingertips white before he released and watched the blood rush back. He had never been so curious about what lay underneath his own skin, but now all at once it seemed he couldn’t stand not knowing.

He stood up abruptly, the legs of his chair squeaking noisily against the linoleum. There was a short list in his head of what he would need and he set about gathering it all. This was no different than any other experiment and thinking of it that way made it so much simpler. Of course there was no way he was going to hurt anyone else, but this was research and he was his own willing lab rat. When he returned with his arms full, Bill was waiting.

“YELLO!” he greeted cheerily, “I GUESS OUR TALK REALLY WET YOUR APPETITE!” he cackled at his own joke, watching as Ford arranged all the things he had gotten neatly on the table. There was a boxcutter with a new blade, a bottle hydrogen peroxide, some sterile gauze, and medical tape, “A BOY SCOUT IS ALWAYS PREPARED, EH?”

“I wasn’t a boy scout,” Ford said a little stiffly. He wasn’t sure when Bill had pulled him back into the grey trance of this threshold space, and he didn’t like that he hadn’t noticed. Bill’s presence made it somehow more embarrassing that he was actually doing this.

“I’M JUST YANKIN’ YOUR CHAIN, FORDSY,” Bill said making a small tugging motion with both hands, which created an odd tightness in Ford’s gut. He ignored the sensation as best he could. He took a small pad of gauze and wet it with the hydrogen peroxide. First he used the gauze to thoroughly wipe off the boxcutter blade, and then did the same to his left palm. He dropped the spent piece of gauze on the table absently, steeling himself for what he was about to do, “WOW,” Bill said, in an impressed tone that made Stanford’s chest swell proudly, “YOU’RE ONE HELLUVA HUMAN, SIXER.”

Hearing his muse’s earnest praise gave Ford the little boost that his nerves needed. As if it was the most commonplace thing in the world, he guided the blade to his sterilized left palm and pressed. His hands did not shake, and he hardly flinched, although it was more a result of surprise than pain. It took practically no pressure for the keen blade to break his skin and it happened easier than he’d expected. He watched as the dark blood surged up around the metal. Bill made a pleased oohing sound and Ford’s pulse quickened, reacting to the pain and the thrill of impressing a god.

Hypnotized by the sight of his own skin parting cleanly beneath the sharp knife, Stanford slowly dragged the boxcutter across his hand. He hissed involuntarily at the feeling, the pain acute and immediate. It hurt, but there was a harsh satisfaction to it as well. All of the confusion and doubt from only moments before fell away, and everything distilled into the exquisitely simple pain of damaged tissue. His half-cupped palm was filling with blood and he watched it dreamily for a second before putting down the boxcutter. He glanced at Bill and was stricken by what he saw. He hadn’t realized how close his muse had come, entranced, and did not expect him to be so near. His single, unnerving eye was trained on the blood pooling in Ford’s hand, his aura wavering in time with the perpetual low hum he was emitting. It was an entirely inhuman sound, requiring no air, but something about it stirred Ford much the way the sigh of a lover might. Bill met Stanford’s gaze and widened his eye slightly, as if raising an eyebrow coaxingly.

Without breaking eye contact for an instant, Ford lifted his left hand to his open mouth. An instant later, his palate was flooded. He had tasted blood before, as anyone who has sucked a papercut or lost a tooth had, but never had it been anything like this. The taste was agonizingly rich, bitterly metallic and salty and almost sweet all at once. It tasted dark and heady, like the ozone smell of pressure before a storm. He heard his own soft moan, surprised by it, as he slowly swallowed, wanting to prolong the sickeningly decadent feeling of his own blood sliding down his throat. The sound Bill was making changed in response to him, the pitch moving higher and somehow Ford could recognize that it sounded hungrier.

He licked along his own hand, his tongue feeling strange against the fresh wound and Bill’s eye was glued to the contact. Ford realized absently how hard he was, but unlike before, he no longer felt embarrassed by it. With the way his muse was watching him, it suddenly no longer seemed wrong or unwelcome. It seemed like a shared secret, something certainly taboo, but not a crime he was committing alone.

Stanford somewhat reluctantly lifted his mouth from his palm. The straight angry line of the cut bled again at once, that strange dark red swelling up temptingly. He wasn’t going to drink from himself again though. He lifted his eyes from his hand to look at Bill. He was floating as near as possible without touching and Ford could swear the normally clear lemon-yellow appeared to be tinged just slightly a pinkish-orange. His aura was glowing brilliantly, dizzyingly bright, and the sound he was making set Stanford’s teeth on edge. Bill’s eye was glued to the seeping wound, and Ford extended the hand slightly to him, “Would you like to taste me?”

The sound Bill was making changed as he blinked slowly. It took Stanford a second to identify why it had changed, taking on a warmer, throatier, even more maddening tone. Then Bill opened his mouth, and the reason became clear. Where a moment ago it had been a sound abstractly produced, it was now a starved growl being emitted from an actual mouth, “I’D LOVE THAT,” Bill’s mouth said, and watching his voice actually come out of his mouth sent a shiver from the top of Stanford’s head, down through him to settle achingly in his groin.

Bill’s small black hand reached out to steady Stanford’s wrist, his tongue lolling out of his mouth to wet his lips before moving languidly across Ford’s palm. Ford cried out at the contact. The touch of Bill’s hand was one thing, but his mouth was entirely different. Just as when he had licked his cheek in the forest, it tingled electrically. It was excruciating pleasure when his tongue would meet the rawness of the open wound. Bill moved his tongue thirstily against the small gash, making wet obscene sounds of pleasure. He closed his lips on Stanford’s palm and sucked, his tongue never stagnating. Ford hardly knew his free hand had moved to touch himself through his pants, it had been so involuntary. He stroked himself vigorously, shamelessly, the edge so close that his toes curled. Bill seemed to sense Ford’s urgency and his teeth prickled against Ford’s skin as his tongue dragged firmly against the cut.

Stanford cried out again as he came harder than he ever had before. Bill’s mouth did not release his hand until Stanford’s orgasm has subsided to rattling gasps and tremors. Bill laughed a bit airily and said a little smugly, “THAT’S ALWAYS WHEN HUMAN BLOOD TASTES THE BEST,” Ford gave a weak grunt in acknowledgement. He felt a hand on his hair and realized his eyes had fallen closed, and opened them. Just as he did, Bill’s tongue darted out to lick a couple lingering drops of blood from Ford’s lips. Without an instant’s hesitation, he opened his mouth, inviting a kiss from Bill’s strangely irresistible mouth. His tongue tasted like blood and felt like lightning and Ford drifted guilelessly in the bliss of kissing his muse. The kiss ended and when Stanford opened his eyes, Bill’s mouth was gone and had been replaced by the return of his eye, “YOU DID SO WELL, FORDSY,” Bill said, and Ford’s head swam with pride and relief at the praise, “YOU’RE EVEN MORE VALUABLE THAN I THOUGHT,”

Without another word, Bill disappeared. Stanford blinked at the color in the world around him, at the absence of Bill’s touch and voice. His mouth tasted like rust and his hand was bleeding on the table. Dutifully, almost robotically, Ford sterilized and dressed the wound, lingering wistfully over the small incisions that Bill’s teeth had made. After he cleaned up, he dragged himself in the direction of his bed, appreciating the sticky wetness in his pants. It was a bit uncomfortable, but he was grateful for it nonetheless. As he fell into bed, there were a million and one thoughts clamoring at the door, begging entry to his mind, but they would have to wait. All he cared about at the moment was that he had pleased his muse.