Something That Deals Me Psychic Damage Is When Kid Stan Is Portrayed As Trying To Make Ford Laugh All

“denied the catharsis of punishment” is an underappreciated but hugely effective narrative consequence imo 

fellas is it gay to cover my entire house with imagery of my muse, the centre of my life, the sun in my galaxy

͙͘͡★ i asked the stars about you

tags: sfw, Bill x reader, Bill is an asshole but he cares in his own way, existential crisis?, eh i tried to portray it like romantic tension but i failed, hurt/comfort but i failed it too lmao

a/n: why does writing Bill always unlock the part of my brain that wants to write biblical nonsense. this was meant to be like a paragraph, mb two. and now it’s this mess that ive been writing for a damn week and i still don’t like it cuz Bill here feels kind of wrong and ooc. but hey!!! fanfiction is a lawless land where we make the rules :) sorry to any Bill lovers out there tho, pls don’t kill me for bad characterisation

night in gravity falls was so warm and unusually silent, you knew that only happens in august, when the town is still too sleepily. summer is already fading, but the air still holds sweet memories in it, dust from the asphalt, warm sap from pine needles, the soft haze of moonlight across your forehead.

you’re here again, in the empty yard, on the playground where you used to play until it got dark and someone called you home. there’s no one around now. the swing creaks barely and you sit on one of them, letting your toes brush the ground, clenching your fingers tight around the chains, and you swing.

back and forth, higher and higher, and every time it feels like you’re just a little closer to the sky.

the sky, it’s the only thing that hasn’t changed. everything else left because you grew up. people came and went, switched places. but the sky is still there, still silent, dark blue, scattered with stars, each burning in its own light. you still remember them though, the eagle, the swan, andromeda, cassiopeia.

you once dreamed of being an astronomer.

and even now, grown, you still can’t stop loving the stars. every swing lifts you closer, and you want to reach out to touch them.

well. . . at least something in this world stays in place.

though, except for the stars, there was one more constant in your life.

a triangle. a ridiculous, talking, floating triangle with a single eye and too many opinions for someone who didn’t technically have a mouth.

Bill Cipher. the thing that defied all laws of nature, laughed at gravity, and travelled through your thoughts like a parasite and a friend.

you’d be brushing your teeth in the morning, bleary-eyed and half-alive, and there it’d be, a sticky note slapped to the mirror, “YOU DROOLED. DISGUSTING. NEVER CHANGE.”

and when you were about to leave the house, keys in one hand, bag over your shoulder, there was another one waiting on the door, “REMEMBER: IF YOU DIE TODAY, I CALL DIBS ON YOUR BONES.”

even when you’d get in the shower, it'd be stuck on the sink: “HUMAN HYGIENE FASCINATES ME. DO YOU SCRUB YOUR ORGANS TOO?”

and yeah, they were weird. a little unhinged. sometimes kind of funny. and you started looking forward to them more than you’d admit.

he used to appear more, though. materializing out of nowhere, talking your ear off about planetary alignments and obscure constellations. you remembered those nights clearly. you’d point at the stars, and he’d name ones you’d never heard of, from galaxies that didn’t even have a number in human astronomy yet. he spoke of civilizations erased by time, of things older than your own galaxy.

you used to sit on your porch with him and talk about the absurdity of human civilization. he was smart, frighteningly so. and he never dumbed things down for you. he talked like you were capable of understanding, and sometimes you did, sometimes you didn’t, but you loved that about him

and when you asked, quietly, where he was from, his eye would narrow.

“delicate topic,” he’d say, too quickly.

Bill already knew everything about you. your fears, your dreams, your favorite songs, the names you gave the stars as a child. and it felt unfair how much of you he had, while you had so little of him.

he told you once that you were weird. and then, like it was some kind of comfort, “but don’t sweat it, sweetie. everyone in this freakshow town is weird.”

so maybe he’s appearing less because of that mysterious scientist he kept mumbling about. you heard the rumors, too. people talked, said the guy had six fingers. said he was here for the anomalies. you didn't really care.

and suddenly, Bill Cipher wasn’t visiting your dreams quite so often.

and you miss him.

you hate how much you miss him. how empty the silence gets when he’s not zigzagging through your kitchen talking about 4th-dimensions. how your mornings feel like sleepwalking without his notes. how dumb and pathetic it sounds even to you, that the one presence you long for most is a floating triangle with a god complex. but what could you say?

you kept swinging. the stars watched in silence. and you, in return, kept watching them.

forward, backward. the chains creaked softly with every rise. you closed your eyes at some point just to create the illusion of flying.

you were mid-swing, when it came again. that melody. it came from nowhere and everywhere, pressing behind your ears, vibrating somewhere between your teeth and your spine.

you smiled.

of course.

“ah. there you are,” you murmured, already looking around without needing to move. you knew better. Bill could materialize out of a crack in the ground or a coffee mug if he wanted.

but tonight, that demon was feeling poetic, apparently.

the moon blinked and one giant sharp pupil eye opened, and from that glowing socket rolled out a triangle. yellow. laughing. too bright to stare at directly. you squinted, shielding your face with one hand.

“aaaand guess who’s back, baby! enjoyin’ your little emo moment, i see? what’s this, swing therapy? should i book you a session with my imaginary assistant?“

“could you, maybe, not enter through celestial bodies? you nearly burned my retinas.”

“what’s the point of making an entrance if it doesn’t cause mild visual trauma?” he shrugged, floating backwards into a lazy spin. “so. what’s the occasion? out here all alone like a tragic indie film protagonist. spooky swingset, lonely stare. classic.”

you sighed, dry. “just. . . thinking.”

“uh-oh.” Bill floated closer. “dangerous hobby, humans thinking! leads to wars and taxes.”

you let out a breathy laugh despite yourself. “i guess i’m just feeling nostalgic. you ever get that?”

he burstee into laughter immediately. “nostalgia! adorable! you meatbags are the only species that cry over the passage of time, like it didn’t warn you in advance. TICK TOCK, SWEETHEART! y’all live like, what, seventy years on average? that’s not life, that’s a limited-time free trial.”

“wow. thanks. totally made me feel better.”

“you're always welcome, cutie!” his voice dipped in mockery. “sooo, whatcha doing? starin’ at the sky again? tryna hypnotize the stars into making your life less depressing?”

“yep, i just like looking at them. makes me feel like i’m not stuck here. like everything’s bigger than this town. bigger than me. i don’t know.”

“ugh.” he made a gagging sound and morphed briefly into a glittering puddle before reforming. “you and your stargazing. seriously. you’re one constellation away from joining a cult.”

you tilted your head at him.

“what? you don’t like stars anymore?”

Bill fell silent for a moment. his eye narrowed slightly. but then his usual teasing voice returned.

“hate to break it to ya, but your species is stuck on that rock for another ten thousand years at best. moon was a fluke. you guys’ll be lucky if you make it past microwaving leftovers without starting nuclear winter. you’ll never reach those twinkly bastards up there. not really.”

you blinked. your throat tightened unexpectedly from a wonderful support he provides. “you really think that?”

“babe, i know that. you all stare up at the sky and make up stories about it because you can’t deal with how small you are. here’s a fact: you’re not meant to touch the stars. you’re meant to burn under them.”

“you’re kind of a dick,” you said quietly.

“no, you’re just too sentimental and blind.”

you laughed. “well, i like pretending we could go further. beyond the moon and past saturn. doesn’t mean i don’t know it’s impossible, Bill.”

not like you were expecting anything serious in return, so you received that: “hm, tragic. and here i thought i was the monster in this story.”

you looked up again, to the stars.

“you still might be.” that made Bill shut his mouth, he was quiet, for once. meanwhile, you looked down at your shoes. “anyways, ou didn’t always sound so cynical about it.”

“i’ve always sounded cynical about it,” Bill corrected. “you just had stars in your ears.”

you bit your cheek, forcing a smile. “they’re pretty,” you bit your lip and kicked a pebble. there was a question curdling in your throat. it’d been sitting there a while, sharp and annoying, like a grain of sand in your eye.

you didn’t wanna ask. but you had to.

“where were you? why’d you disappear? i didn’t even get a nightmare. not a single one.”

Bill hovered and froze for five agonising seconds, but then laughed with that horrible, spine tingling laugh you loved hated.

“oh sweetie, you jealous?” he cooed, leaning forward. “missed me that much?”

you narrowed your eyes. “that’s not an answer.”

“oh, someone’s clingy! but no, i just found a new toy to play with, that’s all!”

“a new toy?” your voice cracked with disbelief. “what do you even mean by that?” your brows furrowed

“sheesh, sweetheart, relax! you’re still my favorite toy! the others squeal too fast.”

you huffed. “you’re such an ass.”

“thanks!” he responded quickly, but noticing your face expression, he finally gave you an answer. “been busy. got tangled in a little puzzle box of a man. thinks he’s clever,”

he spun his cane around once, then tossed it into oblivion. “you’d hate him, he stinks.”

you didn’t say anything because you weren't in the mood, all what left your mouth was a deep tired sigh until—

“BOO!”

“FUCK!” you yelped, stumbling backwards as he popped into existence inches from your face.

“no need to cry, sweetheart. i’d never replace my favorite weirdo.”

you glared, the corners of your lips turned down in annoyance as you swatted your hand through him like mist. but then something above caught your eye. a tear in the dark.

a shooting star.

“Bill, look!”

you sprang off the swing, raising your arm, pointing your finger skyward like a little kid, excited. “there! did you see that?!”

Bill floated beside you, unamused, already knowing what's coming next. “agh. here we go again. . .”

you clasped your hands together and whispered under your breath, closing your eyes. Bill watched you make a wish without blinking.

if he had a mouth, he might’ve smiled. thankfully, he didn’t. because demons like him didn’t do that. they didn’t melt over dumb human eyes or the belief that the universe gave a shit about your whispered little dreams.

“why do you always get quiet when we talk about stars?” you asked suddenly, not looking at him. “you never talk about them like you do other things. didn’t you ever want to touch them, too?” you turned to face him finally, staring into his single eye. “didn’t you ever wish the same?”

“they’re empty,” Bill finally said after another silence. “cold rocks. radiation. broken bones and screaming voids. you think there’s what? some magic up there? there’s just more nothing.”

“then let me see it,” you whispered with hope in your voice. “show me. let me see the stars closer.”

he blinked, surprised at your words, as if you’d just asked to die. “you’re not serious.”

“i am.”

his eye tightened at that response, annoyed at your stubborness. “you won’t like what’s out there.”

you stepped back. “fine! then i’ll get to them without your help! i don't need you.”

and before he could respond, you ran, your feet carried you right through the dark into the trees, the swings creaked behind you. Bill didn’t follow, at least not physically. but a hundred golden eyes peeled open in the trees around, watching you as you kept running.

you reached a tree, tall one, crooked. and you climbed, feeling branches biting at your skin. your feet slipped on damp bark and you cursed under your breath but kept going. cuts bloomed along your arms, your legs, but it didn’t matter.

your hands were scraped and knuckles raw, twigs tugged your hair and the bark flaked beneath your fingers, but you didn’t stop.

you didn’t care that your legs were shaking or that your breath was burning in your throat, you didn’t even notice the thing behind you. the long black limb slithering up the tree’s spine, shadowed darker than night, waiting. Bill’s little safety net. of course he’d never admit it.

he was watching you.

through a dozen borrowed eyes, clinging to pine. he watched your foot slip and you gasped as you almost fell. and the tendril twitched, ready.

“you absolute idiot,” Bill muttered to no one. “you picked the tallest tree in the goddamn forest.”

but you were too high on spite. too high on that breathless wild hunger to prove him wrong.

and when you were there, at the top, the branch dipped beneath your weight but didn’t break. you sat, dizzy from the wind and the way the dark sky opened up in front of you like a mouth.

holy shit. you couldn’t even think.

the stars weren’t just above anymore, they were everywhere. on your skin. in your eyelashes. crawling into your blood.

you tipped your head back and laughed breathlessly, nearly crying. raised your arm toward the dark hoping it might reach back.

“see?” you called out. “i did it! i’m here. i got closer.”

at this time, Bill was right beside you, floating and glowing in the night. he didn’t say anything for a second, until “that’s it? that’s the grand finale? you climbed a tree. congratulations. you’re a squirrel with emotional problems.”

you grinned, not even offended. “i’m still closer to them than i was ten minutes ago.”

“yeah,” he drawled. “and thankfully, that’s your limit.”

“why thankfully?” your face dropped. Bill didn’t answer so you asked again, louder this time. “what does that even mean? why are you always like this about it? what’s there, Bill? what are you hiding? what’s up there that you won’t tell me? talk to me, what did you see? what are you hiding?”

Bill froze and his form wavered. suddenly, a crimson hue ran along its edges.

“you wanna know what’s up there?” he barked aggressively. “NOTHING!” his tone and words made you flinch, but that wasn't the end of his speech. “fire! death! you’ll burn before you even reach the edge of that velvet sky you worship so bad. what are you trying to prove, huh? that you’re special? some saintly sky-gazing freak who’s above the rest of the mud-crawling masses?”

you blinked, startled. and hating yourself for your own reaction, because your body and voice trembled treacherously, you felt anger.

“yes,” you answered. “yes, Bill. i think i’m fucking special. because i fucking try! because i look! i don’t just let everything rot around me and laugh at it from the sidelines like a fucking coward!”

and that’s when your foot slipped, it happened too fast. bark tore under you and your body tipped backward, air was gone and you were falling like a shooting star, metor, until something caught you, the thing wrapped tight around you, too cold for your skin, winding around your waist, your arms, your ribs. a single black tendril, pulled you from the fall, yanking you from death.

Bill had caught you. and he immediately knew that somewhere, in another timeline, he didn’t.

but in this one, he placed you gently on the ground and his all seeing eye watched you intensely. good. not a scratch more on you.

although he didn’t float down to check more. Bill stayed at the top of the tree, watching the sky.

you looked up at him. heart still punching inside your chest.

“you just saved my life.” you whispered in disbelief, knowing full well that he wouldn't hear.

it was just silence, and that fucking tendril, still curled tight around your body like a belt. you hated this, but more than all you hated how still he was, as if he was trying to look unreadable on purpose, like he hadn’t just snapped at you five seconds ago. you felt like you were a curious child who touched the wrong lever on the wrong machine and now had to sit in time out.

you squirmed and tugged, making the the tendril tighten. you knew Bill controlled them, and if it wasn't letting go, it meant he wasn't letting go.

“seriously?” you snapped, still breathless. “what now, punishment? gonna strangle me with your magic spaghetti thing now? teach me a lesson or whatever?” you wrestled with the slick thing coiled around your waist.

nothing. and that nothing made you exhale in annoyance. worse was that he wasn't speaking. you would've rather he yelled again, mocked you again, burned you with words. . . at least that meant he cared.

it was embarrassment you felt. or maybe just confusion. whatever that emotion was, you couldn't understand it. because you didn’t fight like this, not with him. it wasn’t like that between you two, even your worst disagreements had spark, play, jokes. meanwhile, this felt like a wall had slammed down between you and he was standing behind it with his arms crossed, eye closed, pretending you weren’t pounding your fists on it.

“you want me to apologize? is that it, triangle guy?” you asked louder, tired. “fine! here. im sorry, okay? im sorry i tried to understand you, sorry i wanted to see what you saw. sorry i cared. now let me go.”

Bill looked down, as if you’d finally reminded him you existed. his shape turned back to gold, he tilted in the air slightly, observing you from a new angle.

your stomach flipped, because you still didn’t know what the end of a friendship with a demon looked like. you assumed, at best, it ended with your blood on a rock.

he floated down a little.

his voice, when it came, was softer than you expected.

“you said you wanted to be closer.”

and your heart jumped, because yes. yes, you had. and you meant it. you weren’t just saying things to hurt him. you wanted this. you wanted him, wanted to understand what he saw when he talked about the stars. you wanted to be part of that world, even if it was dangerous or made no sense.

“i did. i do.”

Bill stared at you a moment longer and saw a human who reached for impossible things, despite being made of bone and flesh.

he saw in you the thing he hated about himself. curiosity, untempered. wonder, unstoppable. the desire to know, even when the knowing came with teeth. and he hated how you’d burn yourself just to see what lived behind the clouds. hated how he adored you for it.

Bill didn't like emotions, but fuck, you stirred up all the ones he thought he'd buried in whatever remained of his dark soul.

because you were the only creature he'd ever met who looked at the sky the way Bill used to. you were the first one to get that close. and you didn’t even die.

finally, Bill let the tendril slide away from you, melting into nothing.

and then his form grew, literally expanded upward in impossible geometry. limbs stretching until they threatened the shape of the forest, until everything around him felt small. and you felt small.

your head fell back to keep him in view and fuck, your knees wobbled as you staggered back.

“holy fuck,” you breathed in awe. “you are so dramatic.”

you think you just developed megalophobia.

but still, your feet didn’t move.

his hand, now the size of a huge car, unfurled from his side. he brought it low, slow, like the offering of a god.

“step on.” his voice sounded through trees and came from all directions. that's how huge he grew.

you stepped into it and his hand lifted you slowly.

Bill knew, you were the only thing he could show the stars to without it killing you.

and the air tore through your lungs like lightning. you gasped and clutched at his finger for balance, every inch of you burning with euphoria while trees became moss, rivers became threads of silver. gravity falls, your town, your whole life, was now the size of a postcard.

and you were laughing. you didn’t even realize you were until tears blurred your vision.

“oh fuck, Bill,” you gasped, dizzy. “this is— this is insane! i’m gonna die up here.”

“not unless i drop you.”

“don’t you fucking dare.” you grinned so hard it hurt. you clung to one of his fingers, half-laughing, half-crying. still not realising fully what even happened, being held by something you thought hated you five minutes ago.

“see? this is what i meant,” you said in excitement looking down at gravity falls. “down there, they live their lives without even looking up. they don’t know. dont even look up!”

“then why are looking down?” Bill questioned calmly. “didnt you want to be closer?”

and you turned to look, not down, not anymore. up. and for the first time, the stars weren’t distant and unreachable. stars weren’t a ceiling. they were around you, they swallowed you, clustered like diamonds, glowing.

“thats cassiopeia,” you whispered. “and andromeda, and— that’s perseus right? oh my god. i can see saturn! Bill, i can see saturn!”

Bill didn’t answer, because he wasn’t looking at the sky. his eye watched you, unblinking, drinking in the reflection of the stars in your eyes like a creature starved for beauty. the stars were in your eyes, not just above your head. and Bill had never seen anything like it. a creature with galaxies instead of pupils.

“you have a beautiful iris,” he said suddenly.

“what? iris?”

“part of the eye, controls light. yours looks like it could hold galaxies. i like it.”

your cheeks flushed. “oh uh, always thought my eyes were boring, heh.” inside though, you panicked because a triangle just called you pretty and that forced your heart to beat stupid.

Bill's voice sounded offended. “you’d be wrong.”

you laughed nervously, gripping his finger tighter, feeling your pulse in your ears. the cold air stung your face, but you didn’t care.

you looked away quickly to hide yourself from his all seeing eye. “hey. . . can we, can we get closer?”

Bill's eye narrowed, glinting. “oh?” he purred and his usual cockiness returned to his voice. “what kind of ‘closer’ are you asking for, sweetie?”

your face went completely hot and your heart screamed. you tried to hide it, giving him a blank expression, “to the stars, Bill. closer to the stars.”

he groaned. “i swear i should drop you.”

and you giggled as his eye lingered on you, wide. “i don’t get it though,” you muttered, gripping his finger tighter as the cold stung your cheeks. “you tell me not to look up, you say there’s nothing out here. but you live here. you literally float through it like it’s your playground. so what, i’m not allowed to want it too?”

“ohh, back to our lovely term, you think you’re special?” he asked, voice flat.

you flinched at the sharpness. “yeah,” oh, how stubborn you were. “i mean, i already answered that question, Bill, i think maybe i am, so what?”

Bill was silent again. longer, this time. until you almost regretted speaking. then, “that’s cute.”

you frowned because you waited something else in response, but yeah Bill was still Bill. “oh fuck off.”

“i mean it. it’s adorable the way you reach for shit that’d melt your brain in two seconds. how you think being ‘different’ makes you immune to the burn. i remember that.” he looked to the sky too. “that hunger. that stupid obsession with wanting to matter. to see something no one else does. to believe there’s something waiting out here if you’re just brave enough.” then he let out an amused laugh, “you’re wrong. but i like that you believe it.”

you didn’t know whether to feel insulted, supported or understood. “so what now? you gonna let me fall back down?”

Bill laughed at how offended and naive your voice sounded, “nah.” a tendril, cold one and weirdly gentle, slid from the air and rested against the top of your head, petted you like you were some kind of little puppy.

“you’re good, human,” Bill admitted simply. “i love good humans.”

He's so silly 💔💔

What do you think Bill would do to purposely frustrate a powerful reader?

It’s Tough to be a God

a/n — I got another request about how this would affect ‘subspace’ for Bill, so that’s happening later 😁

warnings — SFW, toxic relationships, manipulation

summary — Bill Cipher x Powerful!Reader headcanons

⃤ A reader that’s more powerful Bill is something i’ve rarely seen touched on, but it would absolutely make for an interesting dynamic.

⃤ I’m not the first person to say he’d feel some kind of competition with the reader, but there would be a kind of rivalry there, powers-wise.

⃤ He wouldn’t be insecure, per se, but he wouldn’t particularly love the idea that you’re better than him. 

⃤ A more powerful reader would invoke a subtle sense of curiosity within him too; Why exactly are you more powerful, anyways? What can you do? How can he use it?

⃤ He’d definitely egg you on, ‘I bet you can’t do this’ etc, to see what you’re capable doing, and what powers you’re willing to ‘throw around.’

⃤ But when he’s trying to make you mad, there’s a multitude of things he can do. Being annoying is truly one of his specialties.

⃤ Obviously, nothing to far. He still needs you on his side. 

⃤ But you’d be doing something important and all of a sudden, someone is repeatedly poking your cheek. “boop.”

⃤ If you have an important job in the multiverse, he might purposely setback your work, hide papers, move things around. 

⃤ He’d start fights with other beings in your name, forcing you to confront them, and display exactly how mighty your power is.

⃤ And he does like watching you fight. 

⃤ Obviously, majority of his efforts would be secretive, as he doesn’t particularly want you to end him.

⃤ But when you do lash out at him, he finds it.. exciting. He’s not normally at other peoples mercy, and sometimes, it’s a thrill.

⃤ Just as long as he can tame the beast. 

⃤ Although, there is always the idea of the reader being the one pulling the strings, even if he doesn’t know it. 

Do y'all wanna hear my bill lore theory? I think bill was a messianic religious-leader/revolutionary in his home dimensions. I think he led a (holy?) war against the established order. I think there was a whole matrix/dune thing going on srsly

He was king there. He preached. He divided the town. Probably between believers and non-believers. We know he has cult leader characteristics that he uses on earth. I think this is how he developed them:

It's not a stretch to say his society was probably oppressive authoritarian 1984 etc etc. It certainly discriminated against him for being a (excuse the term) 'free thinker', which they decried as 'heresy'. I think bill was awakening people to the reality of their society, matrix-style. But unfortunately, discontented, unstable societies are not always rational when picking their leaders.

Bill had the powers of foresight, dreamwalking and more, something genuinely supernatural, unexplainable. I think this was enough for the oppressed to not only choose him as their leader, but worship him as a god king. And I think there was a point where bill genuinely thought he could liberate them, that he was the chosen one.

The downtrodden fully trusted him, gave him unlimited power to defeat the evil and rot in society. And that just corrupted bill. I think he led a war for liberation that just ended up in mutually assured destruction - with bill being the only survivor. I think the fervent worship combined with failure to save his people made him the narcissistic nihilist we know today.

Ok some of this might be a stretch but you can't deny it's fun to think about.

"don't forget to cut the crust off my sandwiches!"😭😭😭🤲🏻🤲🏻🤲🏻

gravity falls hyperfixation is ENOUGH JOKE for april 1 fucking HOW THIS TRIANGLE MAKES ME CRY

Thinking...💭

you can’t just say oral fixation and not elaborate on it 😭 please please please share more

Okay so..... Technically, the term 'oral fixation' relates to a Freudian theory about blah blah blah it's Freud so really, who cares. But it relates to a significant interest or fixation around the mouth, or the positioning of the mouth as 'the pleasure centre'.

Typically, it relates to the individual using their mouth/putting things in it, and I do think that Ford has a bit of an individual oral fixation himself (smoking, biting his nails/fingers). But in this instance, I mean that Ford enjoys watching other people's mouths.

I have this hc that his eyes are often drawn to people's mouths when they speak (I do this too, and for me it's about processing the audio?? not sure if anyone else gets that too idk) so he sort of just does it automatically. But it means he notices little things with much more detail: when someone he's interested in bites their lip, when they lick their lips, licking their fingers etc etc. Ford picks up on it and lasers in, because he just.... likes watching it.

Personally, the scenario I was talking about in that last ask ages ago was born out of this weird thing I tend to do: I fucking love the sensation of sucking on things, rolling things around my mouth, rubbing my tongue over things etc. Lollies, sweets, ice-creams, just anything I can work my tongue in and around is 11/10 for me. I'm not sure why, but I really enjoy the sensation and have come to learn that it looks like I'm giving various food stuffs a blow job. I didn't realise that was how it looked, however that's apparently the case.

So anyway, I thought about his partner doing it in front of Ford and again, not really noticing that it might look a certain way to some people. But Ford always watches your mouth when he can get away with it, especially when you're eating something like a lolly or whatever, and so he picks up on it immediately.

And you have no idea. You don't intend for it to be sexy (in this instance), you're just enjoying an ice-lolly on the porch of the house, on a hot summers day. It isn't until you notice how quiet Ford is, until you glance at him out of the corner of your eye and note how his gaze is straight up burning into your mouth, that you realise he's actually really, really into this. Ford doesn't even notice you noticing him.

He's way too caught up with watching you.

So, once you've worked it out, you decide to put on a bit of a show with it. You let yourself work your tongue around the length of the ice-lolly, suck the tip of it, let it rest against your lower lip etc. Bonus points if you just take the whole thing down into your mouth btw (I 'deep throated' a rowntree fruit ice lolly at my office job once bc I forgot where I was and I like the sensation, and it doesn't register as being a sexual motion to me, maybe bc I'm ace idk) and Ford just watches in absolute silence. Raptured. Full attention given.

Until he asks, slightly strangled, "do you have to eat it like that?" and you, who has never done anything wrong in your life and is virtuous and perfectly innocent thank you very much, is like "who, me?"

Ford says "who else? you're treating that thing like it's taken you to dinner and a movie," and you laugh because boy, he really does share his brother's eloquence at times.

"I'm not doing anything," you tell him with a shrug, but Ford vehemently disagrees.

"You're going to kill me if you keep that up," Ford insists; there's a sheen of sweat on his forehead and a flush on his cheeks that definitely isn't from the sun's rays, and his eyes are still locked onto where you rest the end of the ice-lolly against your lower lip.

You part your mouth a little and press the tip of your tongue to the dull edge of the ice, and you hear Ford breathe in sharply. "I'm going to have a heart attack and die," he goes on after a moment, voice distant and rough. "You really ought to think of my wellbeing...."

And you smirk, your mouth curving around the top of the lolly, and you tap the treat against your lower lip once, twice, three times. It's wet, as is the skin there, and it makes a devilish sound on its gentle impact, and you watch as Ford's brow twitches.

"But I'm enjoying myself," you tell him quite honestly, looking up at him through your lashes with a pout. You lave your tongue about the tip of it, circling it slowly, and smile. It's hardly subtle, but you're not in the mood to care about tact right now; it's too hot out here for that and you both know that the house is empty this afternoon. Everyone else is out. Which means there's ample opportunity to enjoy one another without fear of being interrupted. Subtlety isn't needed in this moment.

But Ford's never been patient and he struggles with subtlety anyway, so the moment you make the motion, you see his decision solidify behind his eyes and he stands up from his lawn chair so quickly that he almost topples you out of your own.

"I can think of at least thirteen other things you could pick from to enjoy yourself with," he says simply, and then he's hauling you up out of your chair and dragging you back towards the house while you laugh your head off over his desperation.

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