Turkenbill - Tumblr Posts
You know what, I'm posting this in the tags.
Welcome to Turkenbill hell. It was only meant to be a joke ship until we realised the dynamic was too damn good:
#also im imagining bill would write poetic love notes randomly n turkentine would respond like. Okay - @miketeavee
YES- You get it.
And because Bill's writing is the most gorgeous cursive, everyone thinks Turkentine has a womanly admirer. So David Turkentine's over here like 'Yes, a woman. A lady woman. A female lady woman.' and that works fine because at least they don't think he's gay.
me, joking about a shitpost ship of the math teacher / the sweetshop owner from Willy Wonka: haha that's funny.
me, thinking about it: Yeah, but... Mr. Turkentine- a man who dislikes kids and sweets- complaining about his schoolkids to his partner. Bill- a man who adores kids and runs a sweetshop- softly teasing in response because everything he's saying is amusingly ironic, and he's heard the same complaints a million times before yet doesn't care because he loves him and that's just a part of it.
me, really thinking about it: Having to pretend they're 'good friends' because this is the dawn of the 70s, and being gay had only just been decriminalised, it was 2 years from being stricken as a disorder, and was still considered a 'deviation'. Two men who work primarily around children, would have to be so incredibly secretive about their love, only seeing eachother when there are believable excuses present, meeting only when the shop is closed for the night, but doing it anyway because that's just how it had to be.
me: ... fuck I think I ship it unironically.
CatCFember - Day 18 - Only the Stars Turkentine/Bill - (written to this song)
'England, October 8th 1971. Two men share a silent moment in the dead of night, just to be.'
The night was dark, and bitterly cold. It often was in their humble town; the winters felt like they grew harsher each year, draining colour the streets could barely afford…
But not this year. This year felt different.
Perhaps he was still recovering in the wake of recent commotion- a candyman can only take so much- but he could have sworn the nights had grown warmer since October 1st. Like something had changed in preparation for a new era, like the streets were less dreary, the frost less numbing on his skin.
But there, then, as he sat in the middle of a pitch-black field, on the most remote hill, Bill did not care whether it was freezing ice nor scorching heat. There, then, as he sat under a sky with no moon, with a man deemed his sun: nothing else mattered.
David rested his head softly against his partner’s shoulder, a tired silence shared between the two. As they stared upon the horizon, both were lost more in their own thoughts than the silhouette sea of barely-legible houses. Other than the factory that never slept, no one in their right mind would be up that late; at least, no one with nothing to hide. No one like them.
The two older men were each other's secret, and only there, only then, in the dead of night on a pitch-black hill, could they find a moment’s safety in eachother’s cold embrace.
No. Out there, only the stars knew.