MarsupialsOfMars
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“You're…pathetic.”
Bill's skin crawled. The room lit red. Without a second thought, he gathered up what was left behind his eye and spit. A thick static loogie hit Ford’s cheek, sizzling like a pinch of flower in an oil vat.
He could almost feel the bonfire warmth of real fury roar back to life where Ford stood. He basked for a heartbeat before Ford twisted the knife in the wall, catching strands of pride and relief like spun pasta around his blade. He leaned in, breathing fire through his teeth.
“I have pinned dead moths more challenging than you. You are a fucking insect to me. Act like it.”
Bill let himself whimper. Play stupid games, win stupid prizes . Bill didn't play stupid games, and he only won prizes he wanted. That meant he wanted this. He'd earned it.
OR: "I went to The Theraprism and all I got was this stupid sexual complex"
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Ford gazed into the pupil between his hands. He hadn't noticed the nictitating membrane–a sheath of clear tissue, rough and gooey like the skin of a fish, protecting the delicate organ underneath. That made some kind of sense. It had an iridescent sheen to it, glinting off the top of the otherwise pure blackness. Under the spell that told him it was breathtaking–that his god was no less than immaculate–he had a much realer thought. The thought that it was beautiful. Strange and alien, the way he'd compliment a rare deep-sea animal. He shuddered.
OR: Good old-fashioned Bill wins, featuring mind control.
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With a healthy amount of restraint, Bill settled a little cartoon paw just above the knee. It radiated heat, but not the way a warm-blooded animal would. It was hot like a sun-baked stone–energy channeled from elsewhere, but all the more intense for it.
Bill replied as if reading his mind. “You know they juiced me up for you, right?” He moved his thumb on Ford’s knee. “I can give it to you however you want it. You just gotta let me.”
Let me in. The third word was left unsaid, but Ford read ahead by his all too familiar tone. Torture disguised as play. A threat delivered like a pickup line. “I heard.”OR: Ford has been visiting Bill at the Theraprism for a few years now, and its been going suprisingly well. Bill would argue he deserves a treat. Ford would argue he deserves nothing. Both parties get what they want, and everyone is happy.
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“Why did you come here?”
“I told you, I don't know!” Ford wouldn't believe him. Why should he? Who could blame him? Bill could. Bill could blame anyone for anything.
“You're really sticking to that?” The reflections in his glasses hid his eyes. Two cat-like pupils stared back in their place, emoting asynchronously to his tone of voice–red-raw, sleepless, moving in uncanny lockstep. Pale, wispy lashes custom-framed them with the aesthetic appeal of a binder sleeve, visually overpowered by the smudges on the glass. The sight turned Bill's stomach.OR: Bill did therapy! But nobody really cares.
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"More or less. More frills than you're imagining. And he ain't all he's cracked up to be. Still. God. So until you're up against judgment, I don't wanna hear your sass.”
Was that how he was justifying it to himself? “Mhm. But you weren't defeated by God.”
Bill gave him a sharp side eye. “I sure wouldn't be here if it weren't for him.”
“Where would you be?” Ford crossed his arms on the countertop and leaned in.
“Eh. Who's to say.” Bill scratched at the edge of his scar. He kept his tone casual, but he was avoiding eye contact.
"I think you'd be dead, Bill.”
"That's your opinion.”
“I think you'd be dead, because my family killed you.”
OR: Ford gets a call from the Theraprism. With his family's hesitant support, he attends (and wins) visitation.
Recent series
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- 2
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- Words:
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- Works:
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Having Bill back in Ford's life certitanly has its challenges, so when Bill starts acting odd, it only makes sense for him to investigate.
Needless to say, things do not go according to plan.
(Margarittabille universe)
Series
- Part 2 of Wastin' Away in Margaritaville
Bookmarked by MarsupialsOfMars
06 Jun 2025
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Ford seems like the kind of guy who would build a cloning device for increased productivity.
This is not about that.
- Language:
- English
- Words:
- 5,830
- Chapters:
- 1/1
- Collections:
- 1
- Comments:
- 35
- Kudos:
- 559
- Bookmarks:
- 73
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- 5,156
Bookmarked by MarsupialsOfMars
04 May 2025
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Bored with trying to torture Ford for information, Bill decides they deserve a break. So, why not play a game?
Bookmarked by MarsupialsOfMars
26 Mar 2025
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Ford owns a possessed espresso machine. The daily maintenance can get a little... involved.
Series
- Part 2 of Stan Bros Coffee
- Language:
- English
- Words:
- 3,206
- Chapters:
- 1/1
- Collections:
- 1
- Comments:
- 41
- Kudos:
- 322
- Bookmarks:
- 42
- Hits:
- 3,976
Bookmarked by MarsupialsOfMars
05 Feb 2025
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Summary
Therapy didn't work now you gotta do food service.
Or: A Bill gets a human body with a twist! He has to pretend to be an amnesiac, no one knows he's Bill Cipher, and he works at Greasy's. Surely, no shenanigans could possibly ensue from working as a bus boy, yeah?
Bookmarked by MarsupialsOfMars
21 Jan 2025