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@entangulism-blog
“D̶̖̺̱̮̝̳̀͘ O҉͉̝̙͖̩͖͖̝͉͓̝̙̼ Ǹ̷̷̨̲̗͓͇̤͕̻ '̷̢̟̯̱̘̤͈̞̯̘̪͠ͅͅ T̢̛̛̛̗̺̯̪̬
L̨̘̠͙̙̦͕̫̖̤͔̞͎̙͉̼͟͞͝ Ờ̥̰͉̯͙̰̦̘̙̪͙͍ O͔̣̪͓͎̫͢ Ḱ̸̛̦͇͚͙̟̲̞͎̩͉ͅ
B̢̛͇̝̗̮̳̠̙̘̰̮͙͇͈͔͜͢ E̴̡̠̺̘̳̕͡ͅ H̢̬͇͕͉̫̹͈̜̝̮͙̀͘͢ͅͅ I̶̛̯̰͈͙͔̱̺̮̰̼̫̬̱̝͚ͅͅ N͏̷̴̵͚̗͈̻͉͙͔̭̫̤͇͘ͅ D̡̢̼̰̳̰̟̘̝͔̠̗̗̫̹̺͕͇͖ͅ ̧͕̰̙̠̺̳̹̻̯͈̤͓̤̖̠̞ Y̶̶̨̮̪̗̼̬͍̻̻̼̺̬̻̺̮̘͇͎̕ O̵̯̩̼͓̖̰͉̞̜ U̷̧̘̪̘̖͎̝̠̟͓̪͍͞͡”
UHXQLRQ
Ford hadn’t noticed that he’d been holding his breath until that familiar voice made itself known in characteristically short order. Typical of his luck that the first conversation he would have on returning to Dearu was the one he was least prepared for. He was not exactly surprised to find the other here, as he had invited him to do so on more than one occasion in the past, though all that was more than null and void now. And yet that didn’t make it any less strange to see him again. He looked so nearly identical to the way he had when they had last seen each other that Ford could have been convinced that no time had passed at all.
Not that he had been thinking about that.
Regardless, the sight of the other seated so casually, as if he belonged there, reminded him of what he had originally wanted to say. There was no good way to broach the topic, not that Ford had ever been known for his tact, so there was little else he could do but simply start talking. “What are you doing here? Did you really not have anything better to do for the past three years than– than whatever you’ve been doing in my house?” Whatever it was, he had few doubts it was anything remotely respectable. Bill had a distinct reputation for trouble, one that even years of absence had done nothing to dull in his mind. “And besides, we–”
“Wait… what?” His voice was far more on the side of curious rather than the understandable concern one might feel at the idea of dimensional peril; of course, most people hadn’t studied multidimensional paradigm theory to the extent he had. He couldn’t help feeling a certain intrigue at the prospect that theory was a little closer to fact than he had been able to prove. “What do you mean?”
Bill is beyond relieved he can dodge the subject of what he was doing in the scientist’s home, all thanks to Ford’s insatiable curiosity. He knew he would, but he’s glad it happened all the same.
“Sᴏ ʏᴏᴜ ʜᴀᴠᴇɴ’ᴛ ʜᴇᴀʀᴅ? Hᴀʜ! Gᴏᴏᴅ ᴛᴏ ᴋɴᴏᴡ ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴅᴜᴍʙ ʀᴇsᴇᴀʀᴄʜ ɪsɴ’ᴛ ᴛʜᴇ ᴏɴʟʏ ᴛʜɪɴɢ ᴋᴇᴇᴘɪɴɢ ʏᴏᴜ ᴛɪᴇᴅ ᴛᴏ ᴛʜɪs ᴅᴜᴍᴘ, Sɪxᴇʀ. I’ᴍ ғʟᴀᴛᴛᴇʀᴇᴅ. Rᴇᴀʟʟʏ.”
Feet rise, crossed over on each other and upon a worn coffee table, scuffed with marks that had been left from the home’s most current tenant. Bill never resisted an opportunity to make himself out to be in charge. All this time, and so little had changed. It really was just like old times. “Wʜʏ ᴅᴏɴ’ᴛ ʏᴏᴜ ᴛᴀᴋᴇ ᴀ sᴇᴀᴛ? Mᴀᴋᴇ ʏᴏᴜʀsᴇʟғ ᴀᴛ ʜᴏᴍᴇ.” The latter comment was accompanied by one hand dug between couch cushions to produce a bottle, another to gesture to the seat across from him. “Tʀᴜsᴛ ᴍᴇ, ʏᴏᴜ’ʀᴇ ɢᴏɪɴɢ ᴛᴏ ɴᴇᴇᴅ ɪᴛ.” The seat and the drink, which Bill had taken directly from its contents before holding out to Ford as a less-than-generous offering.
“Tᴜʀɴs ᴏᴜᴛ ʏᴏᴜ’ʀᴇ ɴᴏᴛ ᴛʜᴇ ᴏɴʟʏ ғʀᴇᴀᴋ ɪɴ ᴛʜɪs ᴛᴏᴡɴ ᴀɴʏᴍᴏʀᴇ. Tʜᴀᴛ ʀᴇᴄʟᴜsᴇ ᴡʜᴏ ᴄᴀʟʟs ᴛʜᴇᴍsᴇʟᴠᴇs ᴛʜᴇ ‘ᴏʀᴀᴄʟᴇ’ ᴡᴏɴ’ᴛ sᴛᴏᴘ ɢᴏɪɴɢ ᴏɴ ᴀʙᴏᴜᴛ ᴛʜɪs ‘ʀɪғᴛ’ ɪɴ ᴏᴜʀ ᴅɪᴍᴇɴsɪᴏɴ, ʜᴏᴡ ᴛʜᴇʏ’ʀᴇ ‘sᴀᴠɪɴɢ ᴜs’ ʙʏ ‘ᴋᴇᴇᴘɪɴɢ ɪᴛ ᴄᴏɴᴛᴀɪɴᴇᴅ.’” Lots of air quotes, all deserved. “Bᴜᴛ ɪғ ʏᴏᴜ ᴀsᴋ ᴍᴇ, ᴛʜᴇ ᴏʟᴅ ʜᴀɢ ʜᴀsɴ’ᴛ ʙᴇᴇɴ ᴅᴏɪɴɢ ᴛᴏᴏ ɢᴏᴏᴅ ᴏғ ᴀ ᴊᴏʙ, sɪɴᴄᴇ ɴᴏᴡ ʜᴀʟғ ᴛʜᴇ ᴛᴏᴡɴ’s ɢᴏᴛ ᴡᴇɪʀᴅ ᴍᴀɢɪᴄ ᴘᴏᴡᴇʀs ᴏʀ ᴀʀᴇ ᴊᴜsᴛ ғʟᴀᴛ-ᴏᴜᴛ ᴄʜᴀɴɢɪɴɢ ɪɴᴛᴏ ᴏᴛʜᴇʀ ᴛʜɪɴɢs ᴇɴᴛɪʀᴇʟʏ.” If Ford was watching closely, maybe he would see Bill’s confident smile falter, if ever so slightly. That secret would stay his and only his, at least for now. A quick change of subject ought to make for a convincing recovery.
“Aɴᴅ ʙᴇғᴏʀᴇ ʏᴏᴜ ᴀsᴋ, ɴᴏ, ᴛʜᴇʏ’ʀᴇ ɴᴏᴛ ɢᴏɪɴɢ ᴛᴏ ʟᴇᴛ ʏᴏᴜ ɢᴏ ɪɴ ᴛʜᴇʀᴇ ᴀɴᴅ ʟᴏᴏᴋ ᴀᴛ ɪᴛ. Sᴏ I’ᴅ ɢɪᴠᴇ ᴜᴘ ᴏɴ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ᴅʀᴇᴀᴍ ʀᴇᴀʟ ǫᴜɪᴄᴋ, sᴍᴀʀᴛ ɢᴜʏ.”
UHXQLRQ
@entangulism
Truthfully, he still can’t pinpoint the moment that he begun to consider Aelluria ‘home’. It had originally been simply another location among many for his research, regardless of its relative importance to it. The area still featured prominently in most of his older journals and would without a doubt add more entries to his current volume, but there was some particular feeling about returning to the region that he hadn’t felt since– well.
More importantly, he had so many new observations and theories to sort through once he settled back in. Years worth of potentially groundbreaking data that needed comparison to old facts and figures, not to mention the old unfinished diagrams he would be able to shed further light on. Ford was nearly as excited to return from his trip as he had been when first embarking on it.
In fact, he was so absorbed with considerations of his future research that it took until he was standing right in front of the doorstep for the fact that there was light filtering through the windows of the house to register clearly in his mind. He could only hope that he hadn’t managed to rack up an electricity bill for three years worth of constant power thanks to simple forgetfulness. But, then again, as he crossed the threshold, the pieces of the puzzle begun to slowly reveal themselves. For a house that had supposedly been devoid of life for the past few years, it appeared remarkably lived-in. Perhaps the more surprising fact was how blatant whomever had taken up residence in the space had been. Of course, they couldn’t have been aware that he would be returning - he himself had only decided it a few weeks prior - but one would expect someone staying under extralegal circumstances to be a little more wary.
It was only with such a thought that it occurred to him just who might be audacious enough to try it. A barely repressed sigh was all he could manage for a long moment, the irrational impulse to readjust the lens of his glasses following soon after. He was frankly at a loss for what to do, not sure whether he would prefer to find the person he was expecting to see or a complete stranger if he ventured further inside.
Rather than moving from his spot, then, he spoke ambivalently into the quiet of the hall. “Bill?”
Now there was something he hadn’t banked on. Bill recognized the voice down the hallway immediately. How could he forget? He owned the place, after all.
“Wᴇʟʟ, ᴡᴇʟʟ, Sᴛᴀɴғᴏʀᴅ Fɪʟʙʀɪᴄᴋ Pɪɴᴇs, ʜᴏᴡ ʟᴏɴɢ ʜᴀs ɪᴛ ʙᴇᴇɴ? Tʜʀᴇᴇ ʏᴇᴀʀs, ᴛᴡᴇʟᴠᴇ ᴡᴇᴇᴋs ᴀɴᴅ 3 ᴅᴀʏs? Bᴜᴛ ᴡʜᴏ’s ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛɪɴɢ, ᴀᴍ I ʀɪɢʜᴛ?”
With that he strides across the room and takes a seat, making himself comfortable on the couch that only now he realizes doesn’t belong to him. Funny how he could have the man on his mind for so long and not once have a qualm about taking over his home until he shows up in the flesh.
“Aɴʏᴡᴀʏ, ᴡʜᴏ ᴀᴍ I ᴋɪᴅᴅɪɴɢ? Oғ ᴄᴏᴜʀsᴇ ʏᴏᴜ’ᴅ ᴄᴏᴍᴇ ʙᴀᴄᴋ ᴛʜᴇ ᴍɪɴᴜᴛᴇ ᴛʜɪs sᴏʀʀʏ ᴅɪᴍᴇɴsɪᴏɴ sᴛᴀʀᴛs ғᴀʟʟɪɴɢ ᴀᴘᴀʀᴛ ᴀᴛ ᴛʜᴇ sᴇᴀᴍs.”
There’s so much more that Bill wants to reveal; Ford probably didn’t even know the half of what was going on. He certainly couldn’t know that he was the first person to have seen Bill as a normal human being in weeks. But Bill would stay his tongue, keep secrets and mysteries as just that. After all, isn’t that what ol’ Fordsy liked most? Games?
Bill would hold him to that, and play the genius in every way he knew how. Chances were that was the only way to keep him coming back for more.
sᴇᴍᴘᴇʀ ᴠiɢiʟ△ɴᴛᴇᴍ -;
Bill was never a lucid dreamer. That much he knew. He never held a sense of consciousness once he was asleep. Most days he wouldn’t expect it to be any different. He would take his time falling asleep, and when he came to it would be early morning. This routine was fine with him. This dream was different, and he was not okay with it.
Bill awoke, vision blurred and hazy, like most mornings. Unlike most mornings, the world he awoke to was not his bed but an abstracted world of black and white. He did not recognize the scenery. What was worse, he knew he didn’t recognize the scenery. From this he gathered three things:
Either this was no dream, or it was, and he had all the power to change it.
If the latter were true, this was not his dream.
Something else wasn’t right. He wasn’t himself.
Before he can even think to imagine it, a mirror appears before him, and the image he sees sends him reeling. The monster moves with his movements, blinks when he blinks. His head is pounding (he does not have one), his stomach twists in knots (he doesn’t have one of those either).
In theory, it’s a dream he could change himself however he wanted. But no. No matter how hard he tried, no matter what else in this dreamscape he could mold like clay, he was the only thing he could not change.
This wasn’t his dream, oh no. This was theirs that person who was staring, gawking at him. And they were the one at fault.
“Y̶̸̨͢Ó̸͞Ù͠͡!̡̛” he shouts, voice echoing from the chambers of unseen walls and threatening to shatter them into pieces. “Wʜᴏ ᴀʀᴇ ʏᴏᴜ ᴀɴᴅ ᴡʜᴀᴛ ᴅɪᴅ ʏᴏᴜ DO ᴛᴏ ᴍᴇ? WELL? SPIT IT OUT, KID! I DON’T HAVE ALL DAY!”
hello! i'd like to reserve stanford pines from gravity falls. (forgive me momther) the date is 01/12 and you can catch me @fordplnes!
Stanford Pines has been reserved for you!
» Turtle Mod «
sᴇᴍᴘᴇʀ ᴠiɢiʟ△ɴᴛᴇᴍ -;
Bill was never a lucid dreamer. That much he knew. He never held a sense of consciousness once he was asleep. Most days he wouldn’t expect it to be any different. He would take his time falling asleep, and when he came to it would be early morning. This routine was fine with him. This dream was different, and he was not okay with it.
Bill awoke, vision blurred and hazy, like most mornings. Unlike most mornings, the world he awoke to was not his bed but an abstracted world of black and white. He did not recognize the scenery. What was worse, he knew he didn’t recognize the scenery. From this he gathered three things:
Either this was no dream, or it was, and he had all the power to change it.
If the latter were true, this was not his dream.
Something else wasn’t right. He wasn’t himself.
Before he can even think to imagine it, a mirror appears before him, and the image he sees sends him reeling. The monster moves with his movements, blinks when he blinks. His head is pounding (he does not have one), his stomach twists in knots (he doesn’t have one of those either).
In theory, it’s a dream he could change himself however he wanted. But no. No matter how hard he tried, no matter what else in this dreamscape he could mold like clay, he was the only thing he could not change.
This wasn’t his dream, oh no. This was theirs that person who was staring, gawking at him. And they were the one at fault.
“Y̶̸̨͢Ó̸͞Ù͠͡!̡̛” he shouts, voice echoing from the chambers of unseen walls and threatening to shatter them into pieces. "Wʜᴏ ᴀʀᴇ ʏᴏᴜ ᴀɴᴅ ᴡʜᴀᴛ ᴅɪᴅ ʏᴏᴜ DO ᴛᴏ ᴍᴇ? WELL? SPIT IT OUT, KID! I DON’T HAVE ALL DAY!"
AW YEAH, BABY!!
So just a quick explanation here– 3 times a day for 5 minutes apiece Bill can access the mindscape and enter a person’s dreams. When in someone’s mind he will take his original form, but to interact in the real world he must take his human form. He can change a person’s dream to his will (as it is listed in the power’s description) but take note that he cannot do physical harm, and the dreamer can also mold the world to their whim.
“No, no, we aren’t going in there–hey! Come back, please!”
She was quite the rambunctious young girl, wasn’t she? Violet Gottlieb, age 2, her head a tufted mess of black curls, was running for it and giggling, and Lion Ushiromiya, age 20, blond hair twisting vaguely out behind them, was following her into someone else’s yard. Certainly, it was a nice enough yard. But if Violet at age 2 had no understanding of personal property, it seemed unlikely that she had chosen this yard above others based on its individual merit.
“You know this doesn’t belong to us, Violet,” they called, taking long steps forward–still not enough, apparently, to catch up to her toddler trot. She laughed when they picked up the pace, but when their hands circled loosely around her and lifted her feet off the ground, she stopped laughing and started crying.
“Oh, Violet, no.” Shh, shh. Patting her back, patting her hair. Her tiny twisting face threatened to wail once again. “We’re going to the park, remember? Don’t you love the park? I’ll push you on the swings, if you want. You can go down the slide…”
The back door opened, and Lion noted with growing alarm that someone was coming out.
“Excuse us–!” Hands under arms, they tried again to lift the child, who immediately started screaming. Lion flinched. “Very sorry, we’ll be gone in just a minute…! She’s not making this easy…”
“Wᴇʟʟ, ᴡᴇʟʟ, ᴡᴇʟʟ, ᴡᴇʟʟ, ᴡᴇʟʟ! Wʜᴏ ᴅᴏ ᴡᴇ ʜᴀᴠᴇ ʜᴇʀᴇ?”
Door shut quickly behind him, Bill rocks back on his heels and leans into the glass pane, arms folded over his chest.
If there was one thing in this godforsaken world he hated more than anything, it was kids. And this kid was topping the list right now. It wouldn’t stop screeching and he felt like his head was going to explode from the growing pressure in his ears. But as always, he grinned through it, bitterness only hinted at through the most subtle of sarcastic cues. “Nᴏ, ɴᴏ, sᴛᴀʏ ᴀs ʟᴏɴɢ ᴀs ʏᴏᴜ ʟɪᴋᴇ! Hᴇʟʟ, ᴡʜʏ ᴅᴏɴ’ᴛ ʏᴏᴜ ᴊᴜsᴛ ʀᴇʙᴜɪʟᴅ ʏᴏᴜʀ ʜᴏᴜsᴇ ʀɪɢʜᴛ ɪɴ ᴛʜɪs ʏᴀʀᴅ! I ᴄᴏᴜʟᴅ ᴜsᴇ sᴏᴍᴇ ᴍᴏʀᴇ ᴇxᴄɪᴛɪɴɢ ɴᴇɪɢʜʙᴏʀs.”
Of course, it’s not like it was actually his property to give away anyway. Not that she had any right to know.
The loose boards of the back porch creak with his steps as he approaches the young woman and the awful little toddler. “Yᴇᴇsʜ. Sᴏᴍᴇ ᴘɪᴇᴄᴇ ᴏғ ᴡᴏʀᴋ ʏᴏᴜ ɢᴏᴛ ʜᴇʀᴇ.” He doesn’t help, he doesn’t do anything, just stares at the kid like it were a misbehaved dog.
🗝Oʀiɢiɴ
A rift between worlds.
Funny.
No, it wasn’t funny. It was deathly serious. Who knew what sort of disasters such a tear in the fabric of space and time could be responsible for? Death and destruction were imminent– though, wasn’t that always the case? It was just to come sooner than expected, was all.
And yet, something about the situation tickled the back of his throat until a laugh spilled out. People were watching now, a man laughing at seemingly nothing as he looks off to the horizon toward where most assumed the Oracle’s cottage lie. He’d laugh in their face if he could. He’d be sure to laugh in the face of their familiars if given the chance.
The man knew he wasn’t the person he was. That much he carried with him for a long time. But now, knowing that this rift had the potential to change, to transform, he knew it would be his time. Maybe not now, but soon. Soon he’d no longer have to live with his pitiful self, the criminal and conman and vagabond and all-around hopeless mess. With the rift’s help, he could be a god.
Bill found, for the first time in the life he could remember, a sense of clarity in his purpose. A calm, but not calm at all. Like a lighter that did nothing but spark and spark but finally could hold a flame, and that flame was held dangerously close to a long rope set to ignite enough explosives to demolish an entire town. That rift was the beginning of everything. The time was come that everything this place cared about would change.
9 20-15-4 15-17 13-24-22’25 11-23-6,
25-7-25 11-13-1-14-22-13-2-8-5 1-1-26-9-22-16-13-11-4
3-10-25-2 23-23-24-6 16-18 22-17-5-6 7-18-20-13-24
2-4 8-1-23-24 7-18-2-15-5-23 17-15-15-2 26-1-17-16-2-2
Heya guys! Your friendly neighborhood trianglefucker here to say that I’ve finally got Bill’s au page up and running so feel free to take a look!
Cecil chuckled and he crossed his arms taking a swig from his drink. “Answers would be nice.” He had no idea why he had gotten what he had been given. Limited omniscience. Well, if it was more than the size of a square block it might be helpful in giving the news. Maybe his power would grow stronger and allow him to be better able to give the news to people. Indeed, it would be helpful then.
“A break is all I’m seeming to get though.” To be honest he had been here before these strange powers had come to him, it was because of Carlos. His perfect and beautiful scientist boyfriend, who was off doing science in a far off place.
“I hope people wouldn’t kill me to get my power. I hope that isn’t a thing either, I wouldn’t want this world to turn into a bad TV show.”
“I ᴡᴏᴜʟᴅɴ’ᴛ ᴋɪʟʟ ʏᴏᴜ, ɪғ ɪᴛ’s ᴀɴʏ ᴄᴏɴsᴏʟᴀᴛɪᴏɴ. Tʜᴀᴛ ɪs, sᴏ ʟᴏɴɢ ᴀs ʏᴏᴜ ᴅᴏɴ’ᴛ ɢɪᴠᴇ ᴍᴇ ᴀ ʀᴇᴀsᴏɴ ᴛᴏ. Aᴡ, ᴄᴏᴍᴇ ᴏɴ, ᴅᴏɴ’ᴛ ɢɪᴠᴇ ᴍᴇ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ʟᴏᴏᴋ! Iᴛ’s ᴀ ᴊᴏᴋᴇ. Lɪɢʜᴛᴇɴ ᴜᴘ!”
“Aɴʏᴡᴀʏ, ɪғ ɪᴛ’s ᴀɴsᴡᴇʀs ʏᴏᴜ ᴡᴀɴᴛ, I’ᴠᴇ ɢᴏᴛ ᴏɴᴇ ғᴏʀ ʏᴏᴜ.”
Spindly legs crossed over one another, his pose taking a more relaxed disposition than what the gravity of the situation would call for. “Iᴛ’ᴅ ʙᴇ sᴛᴜᴘɪᴅ ᴏғ ᴍᴇ ᴛᴏ ᴀsᴋ ʏᴏᴜ ɪғ ʏᴏᴜ ᴛʜɪɴᴋ ᴛʜᴇ ᴍᴜʟᴛɪᴠᴇʀsᴇ ᴇxɪsᴛs, ʙᴇᴄᴀᴜsᴇ ɪᴛ’s ɴᴏᴛ sᴜʙᴊᴇᴄᴛɪᴠᴇ ᴀɴʏᴍᴏʀᴇ. Iᴛ’s ᴜɴᴅᴇɴɪᴀʙʟᴇ ғᴀᴄᴛ.” Of course he’d had his fair share of this explanation in the past. The scientist he’d been so close with was obsessed with the idea. Other worlds, universes parallel to our own operating under the pretense of the change of a single variable. He knew this all too well, as he knew that Stanford Pines was long gone.
“Nᴏᴡ, I’ᴠᴇ ᴛᴀʟᴋᴇᴅ ᴛᴏ ᴘʟᴇɴᴛʏ ᴏғ ᴘᴇᴏᴘʟᴇ ᴀʙᴏᴜᴛ ᴛʜɪs sᴏ I ᴋɴᴏᴡ ᴍʏ sᴛᴜғғ. Aɴᴅ ɪғ ᴛʜᴇʀᴇ’s ᴏɴᴇ ᴛʜɪɴɢ I’ᴠᴇ ʟᴇᴀʀɴᴇᴅ, ɪᴛ’s ᴛʜᴀᴛ ᴛʜɪs ɪsɴ’ᴛ ʟɪᴋᴇ ᴄᴏᴍɪᴄ ʙᴏᴏᴋs ᴡʜᴇʀᴇ sᴏᴍᴇ ʀᴀᴅɪᴏᴀᴄᴛɪᴠᴇ ᴡᴀsᴛᴇ ɢʀᴀɴᴛs ʏᴏᴜ ᴡɪᴛʜ sᴜᴘᴇʀᴘᴏᴡᴇʀs. Yᴏᴜ ʜᴀᴠᴇ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ɢɪғᴛ ʙᴇᴄᴀᴜsᴇ sᴏᴍᴇᴡʜᴇʀᴇ ᴏᴜᴛ ᴛʜᴇʀᴇ ɪs ᴀɴᴏᴛʜᴇʀ ʏᴏᴜ ᴛʜᴀᴛ’s sᴏᴍᴇᴛʜɪɴɢ ᴘᴏᴡᴇʀғᴜʟ. Sᴏᴍᴇᴛʜɪɴɢ ᴀᴍᴀᴢɪɴɢ. Aɴᴅ ᴛʜɪs ʀɪғᴛ ɪs ɢɪᴠɪɴɢ ʏᴏᴜ ᴀ ʟɪᴛᴛʟᴇ ᴛᴀsᴛᴇ ᴏғ ɪᴛ. Sᴏ ʙᴇ ɢʀᴀᴛᴇғᴜʟ, ᴡʜʏ ᴅᴏɴ’ᴛ ʏᴏᴜ? Nᴏᴛ ᴀʟʟ ᴏғ ᴜs ᴀʀᴇ ᴀs ʟᴜᴄᴋʏ.” He punctuates the statement with a sharp glare, amber hues rising to meet the other’s eyes in an almost accusatory glare. Bill was jealous, why shouldn’t he be? Someone like Cecil gets exactly what Bill wants, and him? He gets nothing. He’s had nothing for so long and he can’t even have this one thing. No, he wouldn’t murder the radio host for it; it’s not like that would accomplish anything anyway. But god, did he want to, along with anyone else he could find. But that would stay his secret for now. The last thing he wanted was to be locked up when something this exciting was going on.
Cecil really wasn’t normally the type to drink, but with his boyfriend Carlos off doing science and having this new power come in and out of being able to see everything and understand everything. Drinking was one of the only ways to forget about both of those events.
Normally he was left alone no one really knowing the face of the voice. Tonight was of course different, well every night was different if you thought about it, no two nights were the same. No, tonight was different because someone talked to him and was friendly enough. That new found ability of seeing everything happening and hear everything happening was making it hard to concentrate. Luckily, Cecil was able to bring focus to the man when he did introductions.
“Ah, well Bill I am sorry to disappoint you, but introductions really aren’t necessary. I already know about you. I already know about everyone in this place.”
“Jᴜsᴛ ʙᴇɪɴɢ ᴘᴏʟɪᴛᴇ,” he remarks, words muttered under a breath and into his own drink before taking a swig of the bitter contents.
There’s a long pause of silence between them. One of them is more eager to speak. One or more of them is there to drink to forget. Neither of them say a word to each other, for that brief moment.
Bill contemplates whether or he should pry. It’s in his nature to. Whether or not Cecil would appreciate the line of questioning should have stood inconsequential to him, but Bill found himself considering the repercussions of the question regardless. Maybe he would pick at his mind, but maybe in a way that wasn’t quite as direct.
“Yᴏᴜ ᴋɴᴏᴡ, ᴀ ʟᴏᴛ ᴏғ ᴘᴇᴏᴘʟᴇ ᴡᴏᴜʟᴅ ᴋɪʟʟ ᴛᴏ ʜᴀᴠᴇ ᴡʜᴀᴛ ʏᴏᴜ ʜᴀᴠᴇ,” he states softly and plainly. “Aɴᴅ ʏᴇᴛ ʜᴇʀᴇ ʏᴏᴜ ᴀʀᴇ, ʟᴏᴏᴋɪɴɢ ғᴏʀ... ᴡʜᴀᴛ? Aɴsᴡᴇʀs? A ʙʀᴇᴀᴋ?”
ʏᴏᴜ’ᴠᴇ ʙᴇᴇɴ ʙᴜʏiɴɢ ɢᴏʟᴅ, ʀiɢʜᴛ
Satoshi sighed setting his new stacks of books down on the table. They were all what he would need for his current report. He was electing to ignore Bill over anything else. Satoshi snorted when he heard the other going on about an apocalypse. “Really what makes you so sure this is an apocalypse? Some strange things have been happening but there is no sign that the world is ending.”
At the mention though of powers Satoshi’s eyes darted to his bag where his sketch book was hidden among other notebooks and papers. In his art of course, that had to be were his powers came from. Luckily, it wasn’t anything dangerous he can even make amazing things with his art works. That would be if he was allowed to express himself in that way.
“Tʀᴜsᴛ ᴍᴇ, ᴋɪᴅ. I ᴋɴᴏᴡ ᴡʜᴀᴛ I'ᴍ ᴛᴀʟᴋɪɴɢ ᴀʙᴏᴜᴛ. Tʜᴇ ᴏʀᴀᴄʟᴇ's ɴᴇᴠᴇʀ ʙᴇᴇɴ sᴏ ᴄʜᴀᴛᴛʏ ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴜs ʙᴇғᴏʀᴇ, ᴡʜʏ ᴡᴏᴜʟᴅ sʜᴇ sᴛᴀʀᴛ sᴀʏɪɴɢ ᴀɴʏᴛʜɪɴɢ ɴᴏᴡ ɪғ ɪᴛ ᴡᴀsɴ'ᴛ sᴏᴍᴇ sᴏʀᴛ ᴏғ ᴅᴏᴏᴍsᴅᴀʏ? Bᴇsɪᴅᴇs, ᴀ ʀɪғᴛ ɪɴ ᴛʜᴇ ғᴀʙʀɪᴄ ᴏғ sᴘᴀᴄᴇᴛɪᴍᴇ sᴏᴜɴᴅs ᴘʀᴇᴛᴛʏ ᴇɴᴅ-ᴏғ-ᴛʜᴇ-ᴡᴏʀʟᴅ ᴛᴏ ᴍᴇ. Bᴜᴛ ᴡʜᴀᴛ ᴅᴏ I ᴋɴᴏᴡ? Hᴇʏ, ᴡʜᴀᴛ's ᴛʜɪs?”
Without missing a beat, Bill follows Satoshi’s gaze to the single spiral-bound sketchbook, nabbing it from the pile with quick fingers and flipping through its pages with as much speed and dexterity.
“Tʜᴇsᴇ ʏᴏᴜʀs?” he asks, though the answer is more than obvious.
@fairnheit
“Hᴇʏ ʙᴜᴅᴅʏ! Wᴀɴɴᴀ ʜᴇᴀʀ ᴀ ᴊᴏᴋᴇ?” No? Too bad. He’s telling it anyway.
“Mʏ ᴇx sᴛɪʟʟ ᴍɪssᴇs ᴍᴇ...”
“ʙᴜᴛ ʜɪs ᴀɪᴍ ɪs ɢᴇᴛᴛɪɴɢ ʙᴇᴛᴛᴇʀ!”
@thevoiceof-nightvaleradio
Bars aren’t the most popular of places to hang around on weekday nights; those who do are usually the lonely sort with problems they have no hope of solving without the help of a bottle. Bill doesn’t put himself in that category. He rarely drinks much at all in a scene like this. He comes here for the fact that the usual patrons are so much more willing to open up for a chat. It’s especially a treat when an unrecognizable face orders a drink with an instantly recognizable voice, and takes a seat down beside him.
“Wᴇʟʟ, ᴡᴇʟʟ, ɪғ ɪᴛ ɪsɴ'ᴛ Mʀ. Vᴏɪᴄᴇ-ᴏғ-ᴀ-Gᴇɴᴇʀᴀᴛɪᴏɴ,” Bill teases, a sort of song to his tone.
“Tʜᴀɴᴋs ғᴏʀ ᴛʜᴇ ᴡᴀʀᴍ ᴡᴇʟᴄᴏᴍᴇ. I ᴅᴏɴ'ᴛ ᴛʜɪɴᴋ ʏᴏᴜ ɴᴇᴇᴅ ᴍᴇ ᴛᴏ ᴛᴇʟʟ ʏᴏᴜ ʜᴏᴡ sᴘᴏᴛ-ᴏɴ ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴛɪᴍɪɴɢ ᴡᴀs. Iғ I ᴅɪᴅɴ'ᴛ ᴋɴᴏᴡ ᴀɴʏ ʙᴇᴛᴛᴇʀ, I ᴡᴏᴜʟᴅ ʜᴀᴠᴇ ᴛʜᴏᴜɢʜᴛ ʏᴏᴜ sᴀᴡ ᴍᴇ ᴄᴏᴍɪɴɢ ᴀ ᴍɪʟᴇ ᴀᴡᴀʏ!” The man laughs at a joke he doesn’t tell nor is told to him, though the comedy of it still stands in his mind. Well, the comedy of it all, really. Of existence, of the shifting nature of the people in this place. It’s funny in a way that’s difficult to comprehend in words.
“Aɴʏᴡᴀʏ, sɪɴᴄᴇ ᴇᴠᴇʀʏʙᴏᴅʏ ᴀʟʀᴇᴀᴅʏ ᴋɴᴏᴡs ᴡʜᴏ ʏᴏᴜ ᴀʀᴇ, ғɪɢᴜʀᴇ I ᴏᴜɢʜᴛ ᴛᴏ ɪɴᴛʀᴏᴅᴜᴄᴇ ᴍʏsᴇʟғ! Nᴀᴍᴇ's Bɪʟʟ!”
ʏᴏᴜ’ᴠᴇ ʙᴇᴇɴ ʙᴜʏiɴɢ ɢᴏʟᴅ, ʀiɢʜᴛ
@angel-witha-demon
“Aᴡ, ʟɪɢʜᴛᴇɴ ᴜᴘ, ᴋɪᴅ!” Bill doesn’t even take a second thought before pointing out the teen hunched over the books he carried off in his arms.
“Jᴜsᴛ ʙᴇᴄᴀᴜsᴇ ᴛʜᴇ ᴀᴘᴏᴄᴀʟʏᴘsᴇ ɪs ᴄᴏᴍɪɴɢ sᴏᴏɴ ᴅᴏᴇsɴ'ᴛ ᴍᴇᴀɴ ʏᴏᴜ ɢᴏᴛᴛᴀ ʟᴏᴏᴋ sᴏ DOWN ᴀʙᴏᴜᴛ ɪᴛ!” Despite any possible cue from the kid to signal he wanted to be left alone, Bill pressed on, following behind like a shadow, shoes clicking persistently on paved sidewalk.
“I'ᴍ sᴜʀᴇ ʏᴏᴜ'ᴠᴇ ɢᴏᴛ ʏᴏᴜʀ ғᴀɪʀ sʜᴀʀᴇ ᴏғ ғʀᴇᴀᴋɪsʜ ᴍᴜᴛᴀɴᴛ ᴘᴏᴡᴇʀs ᴛᴏ ʙᴏᴏᴛ, ʜᴜʜ? I ᴍᴇᴀɴ, ᴀᴛ ʟᴇᴀsᴛ ʏᴏᴜ'ʀᴇ ɢᴏɪɴɢ ᴏᴜᴛ ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴀ ʙᴀɴɢ!”
Okay, so here’s the ᴅᴇᴀʟ:
Needless to say that for the time being, Bill isn’t a floating triangle. Once powers come back that’ll certainly change, as I can’t imagine that he likes being human at all, but this is how it is for now. I have icons that all kind of follow one appearance but by no means am I sticking to any of them as a solid headcanon. I wish more people would be a bit more creative with their gijinkas, but I digress. I’m just more comfortable using icons.
Anyway! Like this for a starter and I’ll try to whip something up tonight!
