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Three days. Three damned and cursed days had passed since the start of Hell on Earth. Sky turned red, and meaning had no meaning. Agonized screams of terror were a common occurrence – but only if you got lucky enough not to be petrified, figuratively and literally, by some of those hideous eyeball-bat creatures. The last survivors who held tight to their little-to-no remaining sanity lived in fear, hiding in deserted malls or abandoned houses, unsure about what the future could bring upon them.
Always questioning if there’s even be something worth looking forward to, the only thing the citizens of Gravity Falls were certain about was their uncertainties.
It’s not like people could even have the chance to comply, when everything was under the vigilant sight of the All-Seeing Eye.
Despite being trapped inside the Fearamid and somehow “protected” from almost all sorts of entities, Ford had to deal with the most terrifying creature he ever had the displeasure to encounter. Once considered a partner, now just another check-mark to fill his list of regrets; Ford endured himself face-to-face with Bill Cipher.
In addition, Ford being safe from other evilness didn’t mean shit. Things only got worse when said “protector” was causing much more harm than anything else present at the Weirdmageddon. For the interdimensional traveller and curious scientist Stanford Filbrick Pines, dangerous situations were like a routine. But as much as vulnerability and risk were a part of his life, he never thought he’d encounter himself in this situation.
Ford had lost count of how many times his fragile human body had been dilacerated, burned, drowned, stabbed, and much, much more. The past twenty-four hours consisted of him getting brutally murdered, revived, and then killed again. All of that for some nerd mathematical stuff he only thought would be useful for himself, his pride, and some snob teachers at West Coast Academy.
But it was better for him not to think about it, anyway. His mentality was his most valuable possession, with his sanity being the only thing that kept himself, and the destiny of the entire human race, safe.
It didn’t matter to Ford how much pain he had already gone or would be forced to go through. If his mind goes insane, the possibility of the equation slipping out of his mouth becomes awfully high. Having already failed his family countless times, Ford prayed that his failure wouldn’t become factual again. Bad memories and a life full of regrets felt enough.
Stanford felt as if all these worrying thoughts were consuming his mind, and at the same time, he sensed the stare of a gigantic eye, one with a pupil as thin as a snake, devouring him with a painfully icy gaze. Even though his own eyes were tightly closed, he could not help the eerie feeling of someone watching every move and every tiny micro-expression he made, as well as analyzing all of his movements in order to use them against him in the near future.
It was morbid. So cruel, so sadistic. It was so Bill Cipher.
A familiar high-pitched voice breaks the silence.
“You already know what I want, Fordsy.” Bill goes for a softer tone. His formerly wide and aggressive expression turns into a more peaceful one. “Do I even have to ask for it again?”
God, it was sickening. That same approach came from the same voice who used to praise him thirty years earlier. That could, in fact, sound like a good thing – if Stanford didn’t already know about the big bad wolf in sheep’s clothing: an enthusiastic and joyful triangular creature being a disguise for one of the most ruthless demons in all the multiverse.
“You already know what I said, Bill.” Ford suddenly opens his eyes. With frowned eyebrows and an exaggerated threatening face, he tries his best to sound fearless. “Do I even have to refuse aga—“
Bill doesn’t give Ford time to finish his sentence and slaps his palm against the scientist’s body, making him fly directly to the cold stone throne, violently crashing against the petrified bodies of hundreds of Gravity Falls residents. The impact is so strong that he feels the world around him disappear for a split second, while the metal plate inside his head makes his head ache in terrible and unbearable pain. Before Stanford gets the chance to do something as simple as getting up, Cipher teleports next to him and slams his head on the human-agony seat for a second time.
“Do not forget who’s above you.” The triangle’s voice echoes through the Fearamid like thunder, loud enough to bring attention to any clueless Henchmaniac on a 10-mile ratio. Not caring much about what his other servants would think about him, Bill’s appearance changes from yellow to a dark tone of red, changing pupils to black like the most tenebrous of shadows. His hands roughly grabbed Ford’s chin, with anger consuming more and more his triangular body.
“Oh, yeah?” Ford chuckles. “Do not forget who brought you here in the first place.”
Most humans would not have the guts to talk this way to an impulsive and maniacal demigod because they had minimal reasonable thinking to know what would happen to them after that. The eldest Pines had an advantage, though – he was useful. Death awaited him countless times, but Ford knew that as long as the barrier equation stayed inside his brain, the blessing of resurrection would find him in a matter of time.
Making these kinds of comments out loud was not only funny but also a survival strategy. Bold comments like these were one of the reasons his human mind was still sane.
However, Ford found himself weirded out when he noticed he wasn’t the only one in the room with a sarcastic grin. It wasn’t easy to figure out what exactly was going on inside Bill’s head when he only had a single eye to convey emotions. But that looked like… debauchery?
Said theory was confirmed when the sound of nasty laughing filled the room. Bill Cipher was cackling so insanely that it made Ford’s smugness instantly disappear. Sound waves hit the concrete walls, making the entire place shake. A blue-collar appeared around the old man’s neck, making him emit a surprised gasp. Long chains attached to the collar made their way to the ceiling, bending midair and having their end at Bill’s hand.
The presence of two geniuses in the same room didn’t change the fact that intelligence wasn’t a requirement to know exactly what was going to happen next.
“Gettin’ really tired of your stubbornness, Sixer. You look nicer when you’re quiet anyway!”
“Fucking die.”
“You first.”
The demon then pulled the chains, making his no longer devotee stand out of the ground at full speed. Shivers rushed through Ford’s body as he quickly grabbed the collar that would soon take his life, in a desperate attempt to make everything less painful. He started violently kicking his feet and jerking his body in a way Bill couldn’t decide was pathetic, cute, or pathetically cute. Desperate and illogical attempts to step on some platform or anything with a physical matter were useless. His brain irrationally tried to find some way out of this nightmare, but the destiny of that poor human’s body was already sealed.
Here would lie Stanford Filbrick Pines, hanging in the air like some stupid anniversary piñata.
The collar tightened around his neck and bulging veins rapidly became noticeable as Stanford’s face filled itself with a dark shade of purple. His eyes felt like they would pop out of his eye sockets at any time due to pressure, complementing even more the awful look of despair stamped on his face. An intense coughing spree joined Bill Cipher’s laughter in a sadistic symphony quite fitting for an apocalypse.
He felt light-headed as the consciousness slowly left his body. Bill made sure to stare deeply at the human and enjoy every moment of those torturous seconds that – for Ford – seemed more like hours. Involuntary tears fell as he felt his pupils reaching for the back of his skull.
The black spots, once covering only the corners of his sight, quickly spread and took his entire visual perception. With a last gasp, unconsciousness hit Ford as his limbs limply faced the ground. A half- opened mouth and soulless stare faced nothing in particular as the body of just another one of Cipher’s properties hung in the air. Gravity deliberately did its job and the chains stopped swinging left and right, leaving the remains of a used hostage behind.
His younger self from the nineteen-eighties would never believe he would encounter himself in this situation. By his own muse.
Ford was dead.
Again.
Being an immortal creature of chaos has its advantages and disadvantages. You get to experience so many crucial parts of human and inhuman history! Living life fearlessly, meeting mortal beings, saying goodbye to those mortal beings, committing crimes, and maybe getting arrested. But at the end of the day, it doesn’t really matter how much sentence time you get when all you have to do is focus on waiting. And even if your intergalactic criminal ass gets sentenced to life in prison, you can simply enjoy the whole immortality stuff on your side! Use that to think of a plan and escape!
But as much as fun immortality sounds on paper, it gets boring fast. The Dream Demon lived for so long that he got used to doing the most insane and random things just to get tiny bits of excitement. Hell, he once kept staring at a barbershop pole for one billion years just for the sake of enjoyment. Mindless colorful scrolling can really get you busy, you know?
But one thing Bill didn’t understand – or compulsively refused to understand – was the reason why.
Why did the spiral movements make him temporarily forget about how empty his life was? Was there really a reason why he needed so badly to conquer galaxies and cause chaos everywhere he passed?
Why did he miss so badly the feeling of adoration Stanford used to give him thirty years ago? Did anyone else in the entire universe treat Bill as Ford did?
Why does he keep staring at Ford’s cadaver? How many hours had passed?
What is this feeling?
It took Bill longer than he likes to admit realizing that he was getting closer and closer to Ford. Or, at least, what remained of him.
“Sixer.” As if he could hear.
“What are you planning?” The demon approached more.
“Do you even miss me…” Pitch-black hands cupped the face of a now-deceased man.
“The same way I’ve missed you?”
Cipher felt strange. For the first time in his life, he felt weird and didn’t like it. It was like dozens of disgusting maggots were dilacerating his cold triangle-shaped heart. He thought he’d never admit, at least not out loud, that the relaxed expression currently stamped on Ford’s face made all of his golden bricks tingle in a strange, unusual way.
Bill Cipher was great at being a conman. His smooth talk was always capable of encountering new potential puppets and worshipers. And as much as he liked to show off his powers and knowledge, Bill always knew when to pretend to be a docile, friendly, and small triangle, only letting the mask fall when he already got what he wanted.
But no, not now. At this moment, the “Beast with Just One Eye” was inexplicably tiny, both metaphorically and physically. It was hard to explain the sensations, – since Bill hadn’t a physical body in a long, long time – but his warm hands rubbing against Ford’s cold lips, entering his mouth and making the way down to the tongue, making contact with the last remnant of saliva Stanford’s remaining body could give felt heavenly.
The way his ex-devotee’s face wasn’t filled with anger, but instead with a calm expression that seemed like the most deeply passionate gaze he’d ever seen. The fact he wasn’t hearing loud shouting combined with heart-crushing words and now the room was completely silent.
It all felt blissful.
Small hands were now exploring every single part of the dead man’s body, making the cold corpse warm again thanks to proximity and desperate touches. Tights, chest, and everything else Stanford had to offer were simultaneously groped and squeezed in an awkward way by a needy triangle who literally hadn’t felt the touch of a human being in decades. Bill grabbed Stanford’s red turtleneck and brutally ripped it apart, followed by his beige overcoat that also got tossed somewhere in the room. Both pieces of clothing met the ground with a small thud — something that wasn’t nearly as loud as the particularly loud noises that Bill himself was making.
It was common knowledge that his triangular body emitted a soft glow every sentence he spoke. Now, with nonsensical babbling and erratic breathing, his lightning had become more apparent. Yellow tones shined brightly in the room accompanied by obscene sounds that resembled TV static with a hint of actual human moans.
Bill’s self-control was getting painfully low. The touches have gotten even more needy and aggressive. He never did that before, but for a brief moment, he questioned himself if it was worth risking having his “Tough-Overlord” reputation ruined. The Fearamid’s door received a momentary look.
“Whatever.”
Thick and black tentacles emerged from the ground, blocking the entrance and preventing any nosy creatures from witnessing the things that happened, are happening, and will happen in that room. Cipher flew up to meet Ford face-to-face, rolling his long tongue out of his eye and impatiently shoving it inside Ford’s mouth.
The tongue reached deeper and deeper into Stanford’s throat with each of the various rough thrusts. Bill’s half-closed eyelid was almost glued to the face of the man in front of him, rubbing itself against his jaw. His cold body combined well with his warm insides, making Bill Cipher groan with pleasure.
With a finger snap, more gooey limbs materialized and found their way to Ford’s cadaver. They broke the chains and held the corpse in the air, stroking every possible inch of skin available. Dozens of tendrils that simultaneously resembled both human phalluses and eldritch tentacles messed the body around. Bill wasn’t sure if he was going to enjoy this more than he enjoyed agony and pain, but it would be worth the shot.
Ford’s arms were gripped and positioned up his head, while his mouth was being fucked by both a tongue and two tentacles at the same time. Ford’s pants, along with his glasses, were the only remaining pieces of clothing the human had. That didn’t last long, and with a loud tearing sound, Bill could finally see his favorite human in his entirety. No signals of any clothing, dignity, or life were found.
Bill stopped kissing Stanford for a second, distancing himself and taking a look at the show from a distance.
Good ol’ Sixer was a mess. His body was being thrown up and down like a rag-doll, with a mouth so filled that Bill was unsure any living human could actually take it all without suffocating. The saliva was totally dried out at this point, being now replaced by a sticky liquid coming out of the eldritch things surrounding his physique.
Tentacles now reached for his cock and began to incautiously stroke it. Cipher was such a caring lover, right!? His own pleasure wasn’t the only important thing, after all. While the now-deceased scientist was flying around against his will, more and more dark limbs were meeting body parts Ford wanted to make sure nobody interacted with again. One drunk party on his birthday with his dearest Muse. One betrayal that changed his whole life. Two catastrophic and unchangeable decisions.
One severe sexual trauma…
…which was promptly ignored for the sake of the good time of a twisted-minded triangle.
With everything becoming progressively more heated, tendrils made contact with a particularly tightened entrance and didn’t hesitate before being violently pushed inside. The tight asshole was practically crushing everything within its inside walls. The pressure was just too much to handle for the poor demon who hadn’t had such an experience in a long, long time.
Bill screamed as he came, even before getting to actual anal sex. His body spasmed and buzzed, while he shamelessly convulsed in the air. His eye was wide open, with his arms and legs trembling as he tried his best to compose himself. He never felt such ecstasy in his entire life.
When Bill finally got a hold of himself, he turned to Ford, only to notice his goddamned toy was so beautifully messed up. Black cum was splattered everywhere, from his messy gray hair, passing through the gorgeous ruined lips, ending with the stretched bottom hole that leaked weird, dark semen with no signal of stopping.
Bill Cipher was incredulous. How could a creature look so delightful?
Stanford’s fucking face. His deep, soulless, emotionless stare was enough to send Bill over the edge. Cum all over his body was just the cherry on top. There was something weirdly captivating about those lifeless eyes that made the demon more insane than he already was. And then everything started moving again. Bill couldn’t get enough of how great Ford’s insides felt. Tentacles now fucked him faster than ever, desperately thrusting in and out, opening even further the abused hole. Ford’s body was again bouncing in the air, played with like a doll. A puppet.
The thing is, Stanford had always been treated like a puppet. A thing, a mere object. A pet made to sit, stay, roll, and be controlled by the long blue strings wiggled by Bill’s hands. And, oh boy, how Ford was being controlled right now.
Cipher couldn’t think, he could barely talk. All that mattered was the mind-breaking pleasure he was feeling right now. Attempts at words resulted in random babbling, mainly consisting of high-pitched moans.
“I- fuck… Ford- Fordsy, I–“
Stanford was being fucked so hard gravity intervened again and closed his eyelids. Being a long time dead, it’s not like he could notice that. The same thing couldn’t be said for Bill, since he wanted, he needed to see his puppet’s loving, calm face again.
“No– no. Keep– keep looking… I wanna… I want to see you- ah- again. I–”
Bill just didn’t fucking care anymore. Thirty years of solitude, The Nightmare Realm slowly disappearing, so many problems stacking one on top of another, and that’s what Stanford does? Just disappears for three whole decades, tries to kill him, and prevents him from getting a new home?
And what was he doing during all this time? Getting all chatty with some useless seven-eyed clairvoyant? Was he trying to find a new muse or something?
Bill threw himself on top of Ford’s chest, his hands digging deep into the skin. Tentacles materialized from everywhere trapped Ford’s remains in a disgusting love-hate sexual intercourse. What started with lust, will end with anger. Bill’s mind might be in bliss, but his heart stays in sorrow. Both organs shattered for two different reasons.
His body trembles and twitches, finally coming for a second time. He does a few more thrusts, suffering from overstimulation, before going completely stiff, with his yellow aura glitching for a momentary second.
A strong wave of thick cum strikes both human and triangle. He gasps for air, panting heavily on top of Stanford, who, unsurprisingly, hasn’t shown a sign of life for the past few hours.
Bill is so tired he can’t even control his powers anymore. The tentacles fail to stay consistent, disappearing instantly and dropping Ford and Bill in midair, collapsing to the ground. He feels himself slowly letting himself go and lets the tiredness take control of his tired body. He could take care of the barrier later. He had eternity to do so.
Another day, another revival. That comes with a long will-they-won’t-they-destroy-the-world verbal fight. Also, tons of electrical shocks.
Ford screamed in pain, the Henchmaniacs screamed laughing.
“I’ll never tell you the equation.”
“Aw. You’re getting worse at trying to act tough, Fordsy.”
More five hundred-volt rays. The sound of thunder and smell of burned flesh filled the Fearamid.
“I despise you. With all my heart and every single cell of my being, I despise you.”
“Don’t worry, pal! The feeling’s mutual.”
The feelings were, in fact, not mutual.