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Don't stop talking about them. We need to be their voice.

A Farewell In The Rain

Thunder rumbled ominously in the sky, a moan of mourning to accompany the heavy, fat tears pounding on Ford’s solitary black umbrella. Someone should mourn, he thought. No one else would.

It had been three decades since he’d spent any real time in the woods around his old house, but they still felt familiar, more like home than anywhere else in the multiverse. Stan may have changed the so-called Mystery Shack beyond recognition, but the trees hadn’t moved and the sound of wildlife - scurrying in the branches overhead, the flutter of wings - brought about an uncanny sense of nostalgia. He could practically see his younger self hiking just a few feet away, eagerly scribbling notes and doodles in one of the original journals, the poor fool. 

Ford had to stop himself before he could stew too deeply in regret. He couldn’t change the past and things had turned out fine in the end anyway. They almost hadn’t, but they had. And now, he could rest, foreign a concept as that was. 

But before that, there was something he needed to do first.

Pine needles crunched under his boots and he came to a stop in a small clearing, a warm late-summer wind blowing droplets onto his coat and face like artificial tears. Stars knew they were the only tears Bill Cipher deserved from him. The statue seemed to stare at him, reaching forth in the hopes that Ford would come closer, offer a hand, lift his spirit out of the prison of stone. Ford would do no such thing. Even standing a few feet away he could feel his heartbeat quicken, six fingers clenching around the handle of his umbrella.

“You have no power over me anymore,” Ford said, hoping to speak it into being. 

The statue continued to stare, its stone darkened by the rain. It almost looked like he was crying and Ford had to scoff.

“You never would have shed tears for me alive. And if you came to life, you would deny doing it in death. You’re a heartless monster and you always were.” Ford took a deep breath. “But I’m here anyway… I need closure. And maybe you do too, assuming you can hear me.”

From the depths of his coat pocket, Ford produced a flask, uncapping it and taking a long sip of the bitter alcohol within. “Cheers to us, Cipher. The bad times and the ones when I was ignorant. You lied to me, you stole three decades of my life, and terrorized those dear to me, not to mention tortured me for sport in front of your posse. But I also explored the multiverse because of you. And I don’t know if I ever would have reunited with Stanley if it weren’t for you. You don’t deserve thanks for these things, but I can’t bear the thought that only evil came of summoning you. It was just mostly evil, evidently.”

Ford took another swig of the burning alcohol, allowing a moment of rainfall-filled silence between him and the statue. 

Day 7: 💧Drip❤️‍🩹

Bill Returns With A Human Form, Post Canon, Hurt/Comfort

Bill looked slightly interdicted. -Now.- Ford emphasized, and having said that he took two rags and threw one to the former demon. Bill stared at the piece of cloth that had fallen into his lap, uncrossed his legs, grabbed it, and got down on the floor with Ford, who was already trying to undo the damage the poor parquet floor had sustained. They remained for a few minutes in silence in that position, kneeling to dry the floor, while water continued to drip from the sink.

on the same track of thought, where my male human bill presenting fem? wheres my old human cipher? listen. listen. wheres my milf cipher. wheres my gilf cipher.