#literally just 'okay?? fork spotted in kitchen cmon now' moment

[introspectivememories]

was it casual when i sat in your lap in public? was it casual when i said "recently my heart is crying because you're leaving"? was it casual when we decided how your last name would fit with mine? ("yuki tsunoda-gasly" / "no tsunoda, only gasly" / "yuki gasly?") was it casual when we sang adele's "someone like you" together at your going away party? was it casual when i knew it was you just by touching your ass? was it casual when i knew it was you by smell alone? was it casual when "will you miss me?" / "for 2-3 minutes maybe" / "i'll take that. even if it's just 2-3 minutes, i'll take that"? was it casual when that bus was completely empty and we still sat right next to each other, all the way in the back? was it casual when i picked you up multiple times so you could dunk a basketball? was it casual when i begged to come over to your house multiple time and then you finally let me and we cooked fried rice together? was it casual when we played christmas twister together and i said "your big eggplant is touching my ass"? was it casual when we were pressed up against each other on a scooter going two miles per hour? was it casual when-

[thechillsquid]

Blind Eyes Au- Apologies

Okay so this was supposed to be a drabble writing but it just kept getting longer and kinda just became a whole oneshot so uh yeah

Warnings for some content: Casual body horror, heavily implied drinking various dangerous chemicals (but Bill’s fine he’s a demon but still), threats of violence, injury, blood, trauma, paranoia, panic, etc.

—

All things considered, Bill wasn’t doing too shabby, though perhaps he’d pushed it with that last drink he’d had, but cmon! How else was he supposed to get a good buzz when all this human liquor barely made him tipsy, cyanide always did add a little spice! Well, that and whatever else he’d poured into that red solo cup before swallowing it whole, he forgot what had all been under Tate’s sink.

He ran his tongue lazily over an eye (doing very inhuman things in a vaguely human shape was hilarious!) and swayed a moment as he tried to figure which way the shack was. Ugh, he rolled his eyes into the back of his head, letting the forest go still and silent around himself before snapping back to attention when he’d recalled the path.

The demon hummed to himself and when he swayed just once more too many times, he let the human guise crumble in on itself. There was one satisfying crunch, a few squelches for flavor, and he scurried along on an array of spindly legs, body more sleek and reptilian in nature as his now lone eye stared up at the sky in almost an absent nature.

He just wanted to get back home, gorge himself on whatever snacks were in the fridge, and then possibly fall asleep under Stan’s bed (a good hiding spot to avoid Fordsey’s vengeful stare). Bill didn’t even take a moment to think about who may have also been awake this late in the night, crawling about the building as he got closer.

He flicked out a black-forked tongue, skittering about the perimeter and making certain that Ford hadn’t found a way yet to expel him from the shack. He didn’t see anything notable, eyeing the ground as he cautioned a few steps at a time until right against the wall just shy the kitchen window.

With all the ease and elegance a drunk eldritch monster could manage, Bill slipped the window open and forced his mass through, spilling out into the surrounding area before picking himself back up. Literally, as in he had to scoop up parts of himself that tumbled off, whoops!

He squashed himself back together and crawled to the fridge, prying it open with gnashing teeth and twitching claws, multiple eyes peeling open to peer inside. Ugh, what did they have that no one would miss immediately… few eggs, like a cup of milk… lettuce… maybe some butter sticks would do for now…?

As he shifted into something more human adjacent again (made things easier with the stupid lil opposable thumbs and he was wayyyyy too drunk to float properly so lengthy hairless ape it was!) he just barely noticed a creak in the floorboards. He glanced over, slowly shoving a butter stick into his mouth, little plastic wrapping and all.

A chill ran down his spine as he saw none other than Stanford Pines standing there, just… greaaaat. Bill chewed his mouthful slowly, eyes glancing quickly to the window as he held the other butter stick. Would it be better for him to just leave or…?

His stupid drunk fucking mouth spoke for him, “Heeeeeeeyyyyy, gurrrrl, howww we doin?”

Bill mentally lit himself on fire. Ford stared, the bags under his eyes were heavy and dark, “What are you doing here, Cipher.” Oh yeeesh, there was that whole growl to the guys voice right now, properly pissed the hell off.

The demon casually held up the other stick of butter a bit higher, slurring his words, “Look… I’mma just here for likeee, uh, snack.”

“Get out,” the man said shortly.

An annoyingly reasonable voice in Bill’s head that sounded suspiciously like Fidds told him to just for once in his life do as he was told without a fight. The louder voice in his head however was a bit more stubborn. “Is that whatcha said to good ole Fez, too? I know you’re going to kick him out the very moment those kids leave, him and Fidds gone from your life the soonest time possible. You can’t stand none of us can you?”

Ford took a few dangerous steps forward and if Bill was admittedly a bit more sober he would have noticed the way one of the guy’s hands was settled suspiciously over one hip. However, all he could focus on was the utter anger that flashed through the man’s eyes, the sheer hatred that sat there. “Dont talk like you know my brother or friend, demon,” he spat.

“I’ve known them longer than you cared to,” he responded snidely, moving to turn back to the fridge’s contents. That’s when he made his second grave mistake after not leaving when first told, turning his back on one of the most dangerous people in the multiverse besides himself.

There was a sound of fabric, the deep rumble of an inhuman snarl, and the cold metal of something being pressed to the back of Bill’s head. Ah. That was probably not good.

“What’s your game, Cipher?” Ford’s words were a low hiss now, right next to his ear, “If you even lay a finger on any of my family—“

“I care about them, too.” The words again slipped from his mouth on their own accord, Bill flinching harshly at his own words. Oh he had not meant to say that—

The gun clicked and he stilled, carefully settling his snack back on a shelf as he slowly moved to hold his hands up in surrender. He wasn’t sure what kind of a gun was against his head and he was realizing fast that unless he wanted to cause a whole fiasco, he better sober up and soon.

“I’m going to kill you,” Ford said in a hoarse voice.

Bill was surprised he hadn’t pulled the trigger already, giving out a weak chuckle, “Fordsey, there are kids asleep upstairs, how’s bout we—“

“Don’t! Dont bring them into this!”

The demon twitched at the man’s volume, listening tensely for any sounds of activity other than the panicked breathing from Fordsey behind him. “Okay— okay,” he finally agreed, hands still raised in the air. Yikes this was going south fast, wasn’t it? He swallowed down a giggle, but well well well— if it wasn’t the consequences of his own actions come to bite him in the angle once again!

“Why are you really here, Cipher?”

He was asking himself the same damned thing the longer this went on. “I dunno,” he sighed, cautiously turning his head so he could see the other. Being a bit closer to the man certainly made the bloodshot eyes more notable, as well as the subtle shake in the man’s stance. “Here… how bout we just go outside and talk…?”

“Why the hell would you want to do that,” the way Ford bared his teeth must have been a habit picked up from his travelings, it looked nearly feral. Bill kind of liked it, pausing to mentally brush the thought aside. Focus! There is a gun to your head that might actually be able to kill you and a very, very pissed Fordsey wielding it!

“Because, if you shoot me in here, you might shoot through some structural support and end up hurting someone else,” he said slowly, it was always good to play to Sixer’s logic when he got worked up. Though he also never thought that something like this would happen, so, maybe he was making a bigger gamble than he was realizing?

Thankfully, it seemed to make the guy think just a bit about where they were, his eyes darting away just a moment to glance out the room. “Make one wrong move and I’ll kill you.”

“It’s a d—“ Bill quickly bit his tongue, “Yup. Whatever you say.”

Ford kept the gun at his head as they made their way outside, Bill closing one eye to briefly check on the others in the shack, relieved and a bit annoyed that everyone was still sleeping away. Easing himself down, the demon sat down and glanced up at Ford, as long as the human was in a position of power and control, hopefully that’d help calm him some.

“You wanted to talk,” the man scowled, “So talk.”

“Thank you.” Bill could see the way Ford stiffened, a brief look of confusion crossing over his face before melting back into annoyance as the demon kept talking, “I really don’t want, you know, trouble or anything here, pal—“

Ford snatched him up by the collar of his shirt, honestly it was pretty impressive how quickly he moved at his age, “I’m not your pal.”

He nodded easily, “Okay, okay, slip of the tongue, I’m sorry—“

He was let go suddenly and in his surprise at the sudden lack of contact, his face had a lovely meeting with the ground. He hissed, quickly popping back up, “Ow.”

Bill looked up and squinted, wiping at the blood dripping from his nose now. Ford was giving him one hell of a look right now. “What? I got somethin’ on my face or what?”

“You just, nevermind.” Ford eyed him a moment, “You can bleed?”

“You want a sample?” He mused, wiping the silvery gore from his hand off onto the ground, “I got a physical form nowadays so I gotta whole bunch of blood and guts and stuff in here.” He dusted himself off as he spoke, sitting criss-cross and letting his nose just bleed.

The gun lowered just a bit. Oh, the nerd totally wanted a sample, didn’t he? This… this might be a good way to get a truce going actually! He’d have to be careful with his apologizes, but maybe having something to focus on that was logical and quantifiable would ease Sixer’s paranoia and fears? Great! He was so clever, ha!

“How’s bout, I get let back in the shack, and I’ll answer whatever questions you can think up and you can collect just bout all the samples you could want? Blood, teeth, I got just about anything and everything.” He tilted his head, moving a hand up to carefully prod at his nose. Thankfully, it seemed the bleeding was chilling out, so that was good, he did not need questions from anyone else. “What do you say, IQ?”

“And if I refuse?”

“I… uh, I guess I’ll sleep in a tree or something…?” He gestured towards the woods with a shrug.

“…do you even need to sleep…?”

“I could ask you the same thing, eye bags.”

Ford scowled, “I wonder who’s fault that is.”

Aah. Yeaaaaah. Bill winced, shooting the guy finger guns, “My bad, I won’t push it.”

Sixer was giving him that weird look again and Bill steadily gazed back, waiting. “And whats the catch, what do you get out of this?”

“Outta what?” He asked, squinting.

“…this damned truce or whatever you want to call it you demon!”

“Oh. Oh yeaaaah,” he nodded, scratching at his chin thoughtfully. “So you want a cheap answer or a real one?” When Ford only stared at him, he held his hands up once more. “Alright, alright, look, I got a sweet gig going on here and I’m a bit drunk at the moment, but I kinda have grown to like this place and I might be engaged to Fidds, so yeah. Is kinda like I got family or something and I don’t want to lose it. Blah blah blah, emotional bullshit.”

“Yeah righ— what did you just say about you and Fiddleford—“

“He’s putting a ring on it,” he said proudly, holding a hand out and pointing at a finger, “Riiiiiigggghhht here, just uhhh. Wait fuck. Did I ask him yet… no he asked me I think? One of us did.”

“If you so much as—“

“Please just shut up, Ford.” Bill rubbed at the bridge of his nose, “I’ve heard that line so many fucking times by now, just. Do we got a truce or what?” Out of habit he held out a hand before catching the other’s look and quickly putting it down.

“I… suppose. For now.”

Bill gave a sigh of relief, “Amazing, now if you don’t mind, I’m going to crawl under Stan’s bed and pass the fuck out—“

“You’re what—“

“—byeeeeeeee!” He shot finger guns and before Stanford could change his mind, he melted into a puddle of black goo and eyes and slipped under the door leading back inside.