Give Me Baby Bill I'd Raise Him Right

Stanford Pines is the nastiest skank bitch I’ve ever met. Do NOT trust him. He is a fugly slut!

psstttttt i made bill charms and prints, and they're up on my shop! 🥰you can get them here!

this will be the last of my bill charms for the time being, so if you want to get any of these, get them while you can!

6 hour car ride is about to be upon me, anyone got any billford fic recs 👁

"Bill, don't be so dramatic"

Also Bill:

Evidence in the Epistolary

read on ao3 Rating: Teen & Up Type: Multi-chapter Chapter: Quantumly Yours (1/9) Tags: Ford Pines/Reader; Strangers to Penpals; Strangers to Disgruntled Peers; Strangers to Vague Respect to Oh-No-They're-Hot; Gender Neutral Reader; No pronouns used (as any accurate descriptor); Inaccurate Technology for Sake of Plot; Additional Tags to be Added Summary: "The idea of thirty years' worth of mail is bothersome, and now it just feels like an overcast reminder of just how many bridges he has burned. But it feels obtusely preemptive to just be rid of them all on the spot. Maybe there are genuine pieces of correspondence in there. Peers. Professors. Professionals. People who wanted to engage in dialogue with him -- surely not all of them would be so egregiously casual in tone as the initial one. When he is alone again, Ford reaches down, pulls the letter from the bin, and rereads it." While taking a break, you ship yourself up to Gravity Falls for a few months, definitely for the fresh air and definitely not to coincidentally cross paths with your unintended penpal of the past few months. The universe grants your wish: you do meet him. Under perhaps the worst set of circumstances.

Till Weirdmageddon Do Us Part [Ch. 9]

(just wanted to share the art I made for this chapter!)

He went quiet.

For once, for real, for painfully long seconds, Bill Cipher had nothing to say.

His aura crackled once, then dimmed, then crackled again like it couldn’t decide whether to explode or implode or just sulk eternally into the breakroom tile. You saw his pupil jitter, the way it always did when something was clawing around behind his ego—a memory maybe, or something worse. It trembled. Flickered. Shifted sideways into symbols. Not words. Not pictures. Just impressions. A series of broken, ancient runes flickering rapid-fire in the lens of him. A hand. A flame. Something flat. He looked like the moment after the explosion—smoke rising, colors wrong, edges too sharp to touch. And you had seen this kind of look before. In mirrors. In others. In yourself, once, on the floor of a stranger’s bathroom while the wallpaper peeled off and the world didn’t. He stared up at you. No tricks. No static smugness. Not even the shrieking gremlin sarcasm he wielded like a chainsaw. Just—quiet. Broken code humming against the tile.

You thought, maybe, if you blinked, he would scatter like light off glass.

But then—

“…You meant it,” he whispered. Not dramatic. Not teasing. Just a single note, cracked.

(Font used: Eregyrn Falls (Bill) <3)

THE HANDS LOOK SO WEIRD THO LMAOOO

[AO3 LINK HERE]

the fact that bill chose the great gatsby out of all texts is so so so so compelling to me. brother you just bared your soul to every gay lit student worth their salt. now all of china knows you fruitlessly chase an unachievable ideal that you insist must involve the love of your life that does not care about you with that same vigor

How could Ford ignore the EPITOME of beauty, the universe's most perfect, most isoscelene (definitely a word) being?!

Come on, Fordsy. It’s for charity 💕

Is it still ford gets held down day @candycatfalls?