#Gravity Falls Fic
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Chapter 51 of human Bill Cipher is once more the Mystery Shack's prisoner: Dipper and Mabel try to figure out what the Axolotl's poem means; Dipper gets the hang of astral projection; and... whatever's going on up there happens.
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Ford and Dipper came back into the shack through the gift shop; Ford didn't want to risk crossing paths with Bill. While Dipper went into the house, Ford went down—returning to the safety of his subterranean study.
Once Ford had put on the old black trench coat he'd worn during his multiversal travels and gotten comfortable at his desk, he pulled out Journal 5 to document the events of the last few days. In a cheap ballpoint pen, he wrote, I've lost my #1 Grunkle pen (and favorite coat) to the waters of Lake Gravity Falls. And then, deciding this didn't adequately express his feelings, he drew a small frown. That coat had served him well for decades, and he'd really liked that pen. It did write excellently, and it had reminded him of his gniece and gnephew.
He spent three pages documenting the eclipse—what happened, what readings he'd taken, what he and Dipper observed—and then another four pages talking about Bill. What he'd told them, why Ford had dismissed it; his claims about a trans-dimensional axolotl distorting gravity with its migration; the statue, the rescue, the breakdown.
The act of writing always helped Ford clarify his thoughts and untangle mysteries; it wasn't until he was writing that he realized the limbs Bill had said he couldn't feel were the ones that had broken off the statue.
He listed the rules of the chess variants he could remember Bill inventing. He drew Bill huddled in front of the board, grim, tear-streaked, exhausted; and then scratched out his face, embarrassed at the thought of immortalizing such a raw moment for his private viewing.
He wrote, There's still a slim possibility that the entire "eclipse," start to finish, was Bill's masterfully-orchestrated scheme to make us pity and trust him; but it's unlikely. Although Bill is fiendish enough, he isn't currently powerful enough, and his lies certainly aren't elaborate enough. If he could pull off such a byzantine ruse, then he could just as easily escape—and if he can escape, why hasn't he? Bill may be insane, but he's never been THAT irrational.
And so, even as twisted as Bill's idea of "friendship" is... for the very first time, I'm convinced that he was telling the truth all along when he said he wants me as his friend. It's not an act. He risked his life to save someone who's an active threat to him.
And at the end of it all—though I'm grateful to be alive in spite of my own stubbornness—do I like him any better for it?
Ford leaned back and shut his eyes, sifting through the inner tumult of anger and old hurt that defined most of his memories of Bill, looking to see if anything had changed.
There was a sore, tender spot in his emotions, a place beginning to rot with remorse; when he prodded at those emotions, he found that it was shame over his own harsh conduct of the last couple of days. But he was only ashamed of how cruelly he'd acted; he wasn't ashamed that Bill was the one he'd done it to.
Outside of that tender spot—regret over his own behavior—nothing else had changed.
No. I still hate him. I'm grateful to be alive, but I hate him. He hasn't undone anything he did to my family and me, and he never will. Forgiveness can't be purchased with favors.
I'm only relieved at the certainty of it. Bill has committed an act that can't possibly be a lie. I know, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that he's shown me the truth; and the truth is he'd rather see me alive than dead. Whatever other lies he may tell, I can hold on to that fact.
Bill's miserable eyes peered out at Ford between the scribbles he'd drawn across his face. It was truly a pity that Ford had to hate him. Pity that Bill hadn't been somebody better. He could have been better.
Ford couldn't find it in himself to be embarrassed that he'd filled four pages talking about the monster he'd already wasted so many more on. Bill had been right about him: You might hate me to my face, but behind my back you're as obsessed with me as ever. The only thing Bill didn't understand was that hatred and obsession weren't mutually incompatible.
####
"Hey, Dipper," Mabel said, unfolding the living room sofa bed.
"Hey, Mabel," Dipper said, passing through living room on his way to the stairs. He climbed up to the attic.
He came back down from the attic. "Mabel. Why's Bill asleep in your bed."
"He really needed a nap," Mabel said.
"Okay but why on your bed?"
Mabel pouted. "Dipper, do you realize he's never slept on a real bed? Ever?"
Dipper tried to imagine sleeping on a couple couch cushions on the floor every night. "Yeah, okay, that does kinda suck." Even if it was Bill's own fault he wouldn't sleep in the living room.
By unspoken mutual agreement, having a Bill in the bedroom followed the same law as finding a centipede in the bathroom. The law was "that's the centipede's bathroom now." So once the folding bed was set up, they sat on it to serve as their hang-out spot for the evening and caught each other up on what they'd done the last couple of days.
After Dipper & Co. had left, Grenda had come over to take advantage of the low gravity to retrieve the kite that had been stuck in a tree near the Mystery Shack since last summer (it was, tragically, too tattered to salvage), and then they'd gone over to Candy's house to photograph each other performing feats of impossible strength. (Mabel would be sending some pictures to their parents to confuse them, and adding the rest to her summer scrapbook.) She'd spent the next day breaking the trampoline world record until Soos came outside and said gravity was probably too low for it to be safe to be up in the air anymore, if Bill's warnings about being off the ground when gravity hit zero were true; at which point Mabel had hung around inside air-swimming until she suddenly slammed against the ceiling, and then the ground. She was fine. She just had a couple of bruises. She showed Dipper her bruises.
In return, Dipper told Mabel about how their quest had gone: the checks for micro-rips, Bill's increasingly frantic warnings, the lake—
("You got to see a bajillion magical axolotls and I didn't?!")
—the cliff, the Axolotl, Dipper's near-death experience, and what he now knew about his out-of-body dreams.
"Seriously?" Mabel hissed, eyes bugging out. "And he had us looking up lucid dreaming books! What a jerk!"
"I know! He could have just ignored the whole thing, we didn't even think it was anything but dreams."
"And I'd thought he was being so helpful, too! Like he was really trying to make up for giving you 'nightmares'!" Mabel laughed in disbelief and flopped down on the flimsy mattress. "All that because he just didn't want us to know how it was really his fault? Biiill, ugh."
His fault. Dipper hesitated, wondering whether he should tell Mabel what Bill had said about Mabel's Fault; then decided against it. Bill had probably been telling the truth when he'd said he only wanted all the credit for Weirdmageddon.
But—Dipper did tell her about Bill saving their lives. He would have felt like a liar if he hadn't—like he was trying to trick his sister into thinking Bill was worse than he already was. He hoped Ford wouldn't mind; but how could he not tell Mabel?
"He could have just let you die and didn't?" Mabel turned that over in her head, processing this sudden shift in Bill's behavior. "Wow. I'm impressed."
He also told her about their previous encounter with the Axolotl. Considering the other lies Bill had told recently, anything he said about them meeting the Axolotl was dubious at best; but Dipper could remember the Axolotl, so maybe some of it was true, even if Bill had twisted as much as he could. ("The Axolotl said hi, by the way." "Aww. Tell him hi back!" "Yeah, I... don't know how to do that.")
Dipper laid out his journal between them on the folding bed, and Mabel read over the couplet a few times. "'Sixty degrees that come in threes, watches from within birch trees'..."
"It's got to be talking about Bill," Dipper said. "Equilateral triangles have three sixty-degree angles. I just don't know why the Axolotl wanted to talk to us about him."
Mabel frowned at the lines. "I think... I remember meeting him too," she said.
"You do?"
"Kinda. Like in a dream," she said. "We were in some kind of futury space race car. And he had a really comfortable beanbag chair."
"Yes! I remembered the beanbag chair, too!" And he hadn't mentioned it in his journal. "This is great! Talking about it must... must cause us to remember, somehow. Maybe since the universe where we met the Axolotl doesn't exist anymore, our memories of it are... detached or something? Psychically floating around between dimensions until we try to remember them?" He took in Mabel's skeptical frown and shrugged. "I don't know!"
She scrunched up her face. "Ugh. Last summer's first-grader time travel was complicated enough. This is like college-level time travel. Maybe we can ask Bill how it works?"
She said it so easily, like she thought it was actually a good idea. Right after she'd heard about the lucid dreaming thing, too. "I don't think he'd help." Dipper lowered his voice. "He really didn't want Grunkle Ford and me to find out about the Axolotl—and he kept telling me not to think about what the Axolotl told me. He's trying to cover something up."
"Oo-oo-ooh." Voice dropped to a whisper, Mabel said, "Do you think it's some kind of Space Axolotl conspiracy?"
"It could be," Dipper said. "All I know is he was trying to tell us something important about Bill. Some kind of prophecy, or... maybe a warning...?"
He trailed off. Mabel had stopped listening to Dipper. She was rereading the couplet Dipper had written, moving her lips like she was murmuring under her breath—but whatever she was saying, it was much longer than the couplet Dipper had written down. Distractedly, she said, "Do you have a pen?"
"Yeah, here." Dipper quickly handed over the pen he kept in his vest.
Mabel clicked it, went to the bottom of the page, and wrote: A different form, a different time.
Dipper sucked in a sharp breath as the words snapped into place in his mind. "That's it! That was the last line! What else do you remember?"
"That's it," Mabel said. "It was free form poetry with a bunch of rhyme pairs."
"I don't think free form poetry rhymes."
"Pbbbt." Mabel blew a raspberry and shoved Dipper's face. "Whatever! You know what I mean." She pointed at the last line. "Do you think the poem's about why Bill's here? He time traveled to the Mystery Shack in a new body..."
"Exactly! Bill must be back here for a reason. He's got all those powers—or, used to, anyway—and he knows more about the multiverse than anybody on Earth... Maybe there's some kind of big threat coming, and Bill's the only one who can stop it, and—and the Axolotl wanted us to know...?"
"I like the sound of that," Mabel said. "That'd basically make him a hero, right?"
Dipper grimaced. "I mean. I guess? But we're talking about Bill. If he does help us stop a threat, it'd be like if a serial killer picked up a hitchhiker and killed him, and then it turned out the hitchhiker was an even worse serial killer."
"That still sounds kinda heroic to me."
"Pfff, okay." He looked at his journal. "But... what is he here to do?"
Mabel considered what they'd already written. "Maybe we can use him to spy on our enemies through birch trees!"
"Thaaat's probably not it."
"No, I think I'm on to something. I can feel it."
There was a lot of empty space between his couplet and Mabel's line. "There's more we're missing, though. Maybe the rest of the poem describes the threat? Or what we need to get Bill to do?"
"I can't remember anything else, though."
"Me neither."
They stared at the page together, waiting for something to come to their blank minds. Mabel looked at the fish tank. "Hey, Primrose! Do you know anything?"
The pet axolotl in the tank ignored her serenely.
Dipper said, "'Primrose'?"
"Yeah, last summer Grunkle Stan said her name is Freakface, but I thought she deserved a cuter name. She's primrose color!"
"Ford says he originally named him Nikola."
Mabel gasped. "Nikki..."
Dipper twisted around to look at the axolotl. "Do you know anything? Do you... get messages from the Axolotl's heralds, or anything...?"
Nikola slowly opened his mouth, and slowly closed it.
Mabel said, "Hey. The Axolotl's one of those dimension-crossy time-travely guys, right? He probably wouldn't have given us a prophecy in the wrong timeline and then made us forget it unless he knew we'd remember it in time in the rightdimension!"
"I guess," Dipper said uncertainly.
"So we don't need to worry about it! We'll remember it when we need to."
"Unless this timeline's going to branch, and the only one where we survive is the one where we put all our effort into trying to remembering—"
"Shhh!" Mabel put a finger over Dipper's mouth. "Uh-uh. No college time travel. We'll be fine!"
Dipper pushed her over. "Okay, but we should at least try a little to remember what the Axolotl told us."
"What if we work on it separately?" Mabel propped herself up on an elbow. "Instead of just sitting around thinking about it. And whenever we remember a line, we can tell each other and see if it makes anything click."
"That might be faster," Dipper said, stroking his chin. "We're already remembering different lines."
"Yeah! And that lucid dreaming book said something about focusing on a problem before you sleep so you can figure it out in your dreams! We can just work on it in our sleep and we'll remember it all in no time!"
Dipper laughed. "What? No way, I think lucid dreaming is just one of those made up pop psychology things. I didn't get it to work at all." Either it didn't work or Bill had deliberately recommended a terrible book.
"I did! I can remember like... eighty percent more dreams. And I can tell when I'm dreaming a lot more often!"
"Huh." Or, maybe Dipper just wasn't doing it right. "Maybe I need to start over from step one. Do you know where the book we were using went?"
"Over here!" Mabel had set a couple library books on the end table next to the sofa bed; she pulled out the second one, which had a glittery pink bookmark with a cat on it stuck two-thirds of the way through. "Just don't lose my bookmark."
"Thanks." He'd reread the first step before bed. "We should probably be getting ready for bed anyway, huh?"
"Seriously?! It's barely bedtime!" And when the adults weren't watching, official bedtime was an hour and a half before Actual Bedtime.
"I'm exhausted. I just hiked up and down a mountain and faced down death."
Mabel pointed at Nikola. "You faced down a big salamander."
"Close enough."
They went upstairs, brushed their teeth, went to their bedroom...
And stopped in the door. Bill was still asleep. "Oh. Right," Dipper said.
He was curled into a ball on his left side, facing the wall, covered with only the zodiac blanket and his borrowed/stolen top hat sitting on the side of his head. He didn't use a pillow; he'd pushed Mabel's pillows and dolls behind himself to form a squishy makeshift fortress.
"Please don't wake him up," Mabel whispered. (She'd already set up the folding bed for herself; she'd clearly planned on this.) "He's had a really really hard time the last couple of days, and I think he needs as much sleep in a real bed as he can get, and it's just for one night, and I'm sure he'd rather sleep than do anything evil—"
"He said something, didn't he?"
Mabel paused. "Yeah. I think seeing his body really messed him up."
Dipper sighed. "We were trying to keep him away from it." He didn't want Mabel to think they'd forced him to stare his own death in the face. "But he did that... eye thing and looked through the trees, and..."
Mabel nodded.
Well. Dipper couldn't kick him out now. For Mabel's sake.
As children, occasionally when they got hotel rooms with a bed too few, their parents would stick them in one bed with a barrier of pillows in between them. At age thirteen and without two crabby parents trying to get them to just go to bed after a long plane flight, they unanimously vetoed that plan. Dipper decided against asking Stan if he could sleep in Ford's unoccupied bed, both because he suspected Stan would just go upstairs and drag Bill out of the room and because he didn't want Stan to think he was scared of Bill. He wasn't scared of Bill. Not anymore. He could handle one measly night in the same room as him. Anyway, somebody had to make sure he wasn't unsupervised in their bedroom all night, right?
Dipper and Mabel quietly set a floor mirror and old lamp next to Mabel's bed, draped a sheet between them, taped on a pink poster that said "WARNING! TRIANGLE ZONE!" and was covered in stickers of triangular objects, and decided Dipper was adequately shielded. If Bill did get up during the night, he'd probably trip through the sheet and wake half the house before he got anywhere near Dipper.
Dipper went to sleep with a baseball bat in his hands.
####
"Okay," Bill said, hands on his sides, "what am I looking at here?"
The feral band members of Sev'ral Timez turned toward Bill, eyes reflecting in the dim light. They were squatting around Bill's petrified corpse like a pack of apes examining a sleek black monolith.
"Hey girl," Creggy G. said.
"Hey," Bill said. He looked down at himself. His onyx black feet hovered over the ground and the yellow glow from his exoskeleton illuminated the clearing. "Lemme cut to the chase, is this gonna turn into a raunchy dream? My corporeal love life is about as cold and dry as Antarctica, I keep hoping one of my dreams will get a little hotter and wetter—"
"Nah, G," Deep Chris said. "Mr. Bratsman got us fixed."
"Aw."
"We're here to pay you reverence for freeing our minds from the chains of the conventional," Greggy C said, gesturing to Bill's corpse. Leggy P was kneeling and bowing to it and Chubby Z was posing for it. "We want to help free you like you tried to help free humanity."
Bill's eye narrowed. He tapped a finger against the edge of one brick as he considered this offer. Finally, skeptically, he said, "Fine. I'll bite. Why should I think you can help me?"
"Because we can give you the understanding your heart's been missing, girl. You're just like us," Chubby Z said. "A horror never meant to exist, born of a dream to construct the perfect golden idol, forced to dwell within an unnaturally-fabricated human shell."
Bill tilted his head thoughtfully. "I'm with you so far."
"We want you to join us," Deep Chris said. "Cavort with us in the silvan night, G. Shun the harsh light of the spotlight for the healing salve of moonbeams. We'll get drunk on the sweet fermented summer berries, uncaring of how the brambles prick our flesh. We'll dance in a frenzy of ecstasy and only sleep when the morning sun lifts the dew from the flowers and the sweat from our skin. It'll be straight Dionysian, boo."
"We can kiss the hot trees," Creggy G said.
Bill grabbed his shoulder. "Oh, you're the human that keeps making out with birch trees! I knew your face was familiar!" He paused. "So... are there any eligible ones around here?"
"Sure, girl, just downstream."
"If I'd known, I would've polished myself first."
"Say you'll join us, Bill girl," Deep Chris said. The band crowded around Bill to either side, posing around him—the backup dancers for the star singer. "You'd be one of us."
"We're already exactly the same," Creggy G said, holding up a mirror so that it reflected his and Bill's faces beside each other. In Bill's human face were two empty white eyes with pinprick pupils and pale blue irises, exactly the same as the eyes of the Sev'ral Timez boys.
He sat up with a gasp, hands flying to his face. There were still green boughs at the edges of his dreaming vision, blending into the wooden boards of the Mystery Shack's attic. Before sleep had fully fled his mind, he seized up the zodiac blanket draped over his body and stared into his embroidered eye.
The eye stared back at him. Through it, he could see his horrified sleepy face, and his normal slitted yellow eyes. His connection to the blanket's eye disappeared as he finished waking up.
He heaved a sigh of relief and flopped back down. He'd been lucid, but he hadn't been in control of that dream. He still needed practice.
He rolled toward the light of the window, groped around beneath it until he found his journal, grabbed up his crayons, and flipped pages blearily until he found the first blank one. He started writing down his dream, pausing only briefly as he tried to figure out how to translate "Sev'ral Timez" before settling on a sufficiently goofy way to misspell "several times" in Plaintext.
He made it halfway down the page before he stopped. Hold on. This wasn't his beautiful journal. These were not his beautiful crayons. He checked the cover and grimaced in displeasure when he saw a pine tree rather than a hand. Dipper's journal. Bill ripped out the page, ate it, and set the journal and Mabel's crayons back on the table under the bedroom window.
"What was that," Dipper asked, "some kind of Morse code?"
Bill yelped and twisted around. Dipper's soul was hovering above Mabel's headboard, watching over Bill's shoulder.
"Hey! Back, foul ghost!" Bill snatched up Mabel's pillow and swung it at Dipper.
"Ow—Hey! How did you hit me, I'm in the mindscape—"
"I said back!" Bill swung again, chasing Dipper off the bed. "Back into your fleshy tomb!" He climbed off the bed, stumbled into Dipper and Mabel's trap, tripped through the sheet and probably woke up half the house.
He yanked the sheet off and flung the pillow at Dipper by its corner. "Now get back in your body, go to sleep, and leave me alone."
"I don't know how to get back in it. I just wait until it happens by itself," Dipper said, floating irritably over his sleeping body, arms crossed. "Why do you think I just wander around every time I have this dream?" He paused. "Right—it's not a dream, is it."
Bill sighed heavily. "Try putting your body on like..." He almost said like an exoskeleton, remembered his audience, and amended himself: "Like it's clothing. I usually start with the hands. Just like putting on gloves!"
Dipper looked at the cold fingers wrapped tightly around the baseball bat. "How do I put hands on like gloves? There's no opening or—"
"Just try it, would you?" Bill sat tiredly on the edge of Mabel's bed.
Dipper shot him an irritated look, but pressed his ghostly hands against his fleshly ones, passing through the skin until one set of fingers rested inside the other. A fingertip twitched.
Bill gestured with one hand, continue. "Now the sleeves."
"I know how to get dressed." Dipper laid down in his body, forearm into forearm, shoulder into shoulder—until he was wholly back inside. He sat up, awake. "Huh."
"There, see?" Bill said. "And if you want to take it back off, just do the same thing in reverse. Like degloving your body from your soul!"
"Did you have to phrase it like that?" Still, Dipper tried it, peeling out of his body from the fingertips up. He left his body sitting upright as he hovered over it.
Bill chuckled tiredly. "Lookit your face, staring at nothing. Stupid looking."
"Shut up." He slid back into his body, more quickly now that he knew what he was doing.
"Great," Bill said. "Now that you know how to get back in your body, never do that again." He flopped back onto Mabel's bed and rolled over to face the wall. "It's a pain in my base having you wander around all night."
"Then you should've thought of that before you ripped my soul out of my body," Dipper grumbled. "Can you reattach me to my body?"
"Sure, easy." He lifted a hand to point down at his regrettably human form. "Not like this, though. Wanna help reattach me to my body?"
"Never in a million years."
"Then come back in a million years. There's nothing I can do for you until then." Bill dragged Mabel's zodiac blanket back over himself. "So sorry. Go to sleep. Leave me alone."
Dipper bet Bill could do it and was only saying he couldn't to try to trick Dipper into helping him. But he lay back down—clutching his bat again—and shut his eyes.
After a moment, Bill asked, "Where's Mabel? Sleepover?"
"Sofa bed in the living room."
"Right."
And then there was silence.
Several minutes passed. Dipper nearly fell back asleep. He heard Bill climbing out of bed and creeping across the room; but the footsteps didn't approach Dipper's bed, so he didn't open his eyes.
A few minutes after that, Dipper heard him come back, walking more heavily. He cracked open an eye to see what Bill was up to.
He was carrying Mabel, who was still asleep; his arms were trembling from her weight, but even at that Dipper hadn't known Bill was that strong. With a quiet grunt, he set her on her bed, then haphazardly tossed her sheet and zodiac blanket over her. He picked up his top hat from the bed and put it on; and then he wandered off, footsteps quiet as a ghost, and Dipper heard the creak of the door as he left the bedroom.
That was a lot nicer than Dipper had expected from Bill. Maybe he did care about Mabel in his own way.
Mabel rolled over and latched on to one of her dolls. Dipper shut his eye and fell back asleep.
####
(My favorite part of writing this was Bill dreaming about Sev'ral Timez saying the most absurdly flowery things imaginable. Anyway, let me know what y'all think about this week's chapter! And reminder that I MIGHT skip next week or the week after because the next couple chapters need heavier editing than usual.)
#bill cipher#human bill cipher#sev'ral timez#(a tag i have never used before and will probably never use again.)#gravity falls#gravity falls fic#gravity falls fanart#fanart#my art#my writing#bill goldilocks cipher
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A pencil sketch of Stan the Gargoyle from Monster Falls.
That is all.
#gravity falls#gravity falls fanart#gravity falls fandom#art#fanart#stan pines#grunkle stan#stanley pines#monster falls#gravity falls fanfiction#gravity falls au#gravity falls fic#gravityfalls
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your bill hcs were so good and got me thinking... what about yandere bill w/ a reader whos in a relationship already with ford?? i love your work btw!!!
Oooh this is such an interesting request! Thank you so much for submitting this, I absolutely LOVE writing stuff like this!
He/him for Bill
They/them for the reader
<Yandere Bill Cipher x reader who’s in a relationship with Ford Pines>
When Bill found out that you were already with somebody, he was devastated, moreover, when he found out that the other person was Ford, he completely lost it. You were supposed to be HIS and HIS ALONE!!
Homeboy was oozing with jealousy fr.
The triangle couldn’t grasp how you could fall for someone like Ford! I mean, it’s Ford for gods sake!
He probably stalked the two of you while you were out on dates, all while angrily muttering to himself and sending an unknowing Ford death stares. (Bill punching the air rn)
At first he debated on just killing Ford and getting it all over with, that’s usually the easiest way to solve problems, but then he realized that if he did that, you would most definitely hate him.
He couldn’t risk that happening and he knew it, Bill isn’t a dumb guy, y’know. Therefore, he decided on the second best option: To threaten Ford instead.
Bill waited until the timing was just right, before appearing right in front of Ford himself in one of his most terrifying forms. (Like when he’s all red and big and stuff)
“Cipher?! What do you want? Haven’t you already tormented me and my family enough?!” “Ford Pines, my good pal! I’m not here to cause any harm old man, I’m just here to reclaim something that’s MINE buddy” “What? Something of yours? I have no idea what you’re talking about Cipher!” “A precious little s/o of yours say’s otherwise!”
Once Ford realized what Bill was talking about, he panicked. Y/n? Why did Bill want you? No! He can’t let that demon have you! Who knows what the hell that psycho had in mind?!
Now, the outcome of this conversation was mostly just Ford becoming way more protective over you, and Bill failing to claim you as his.
So when that didn’t work, he resorted to plan B: pursuing you.
“Hey, sugar tits (pls someone stop me) why be with that old sack of meat, when you could be with a real charm devil *wink wink* (with ultimate rizz)
The dorito tried every trick in the book to win you over without causing any harm as to not scare you, but when you still stayed with Ford after everything, he finally snapped.
You were his and ONLY his, that’s the way it is supposed to be, and if you can’t accept that, he will just have to make you realize how much better than Ford he is, resulting in some pretty traumatic scenes for you, but not to worry! Your new boyfriend is here to make it all okay… he can treat you better then Ford, better than anybody for that matter, and he was going to prove it.
Look at him, such a silly little thing
#bill cipher#bill cipher x reader#yandere bill cipher x reader#gravity falls bill x reader#gravity falls#gravity falls x reader#yandere gravity falls#yandere gravity falls x reader#romance#yandere#gravity falls bill#gravity falls fic#yandere bill cipher#bill cipher x reader hcs#bill cipher fanfic#ford pines#ford pines x reader#gravity falls ford#gravity falls ford x reader#bill cipher x y/n#gravity falls x y/n#ford pines x y/n
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Stanley was worn and furious.
With himself mostly. He'd cried more that day than any other he could remember and the embarrassment had started to set in. It helped none that Shermie kept looking at him like he was a chore.
Stanley refused to look at Ford as they were herded wordlessly into the back of Shermie's car. Worried he might see Ford wearing that same aggrieved, faintly irritated expression over his tears.
It didn't really surprise him that Ford wasn't crying that much. Wasn't much of a crier Ford, but Stanley knew he was upset. There was a rigid quality to his brother's silence now, sharp and icy, a cold anger that Stanley was pretty sure was his way of expressing grief. Ford was weird like that. He was weird in lots of ways really.
Now that the tears had dried, seemingly from fatigue rather than Stanley actually feeling any better, he was left with sore eyes and a bone deep exhaustion that made him antsy. The shock and sorrow were beginning to ebb away now and Stanley was seething in their wake.
Worse still his anger had nowhere to go. While Ford gazed out the window of the car as they rolled away from the churchyard Stanley stared down at his hands. Slowly curling and uncurling his fingers into tight fists. He could hit people that mouthed off to him, could beat down people that made snide remarks about his brother, could even fight for his family's pride in the ring but what could he do against this?
"Lee. Unclench." Ford spoke quietly, not even turning to look at him and for a moment Stanley didn't get it.
Oh. He'd been grinding his teeth again. Right.
Reluctantly he unclenched his jaw, able to feel the faint ache in his molars that told him he'd been doing that for a while now.
Unfortunately with Ford speaking up finally Stanley's attention was back on him and it was the closest to an outlet he had.
"Don't tell me what to fucking do." Stanley spat and while Ford didn't even react to the words, he almost felt himself flinch after speaking them.
Ten terse seconds of silence passed before Stanley deflated. Stanford was always better at waiting him out.
"Sorry, Sixer…I…I didn't mean that…"
"I know." Ford replied, certain and calm as ever. That bothered Stanley more today than it typically would have.
Their parents were gone.
Gone.
------- Snippet from chapter 1.
#my art#gravity falls#fanart#Reverse Falls#AU#No Revenge So Complete#Stanley Gleeful#Stanford Gleeful#gravity falls fic#fanfiction
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hii! for the tickletober prompts, how about lee dipper with day 12? like the ler (they can be whoever you see fit!) knows/discovers he is really weak to them so they get him. hope you're doing well!
TickleTober Day 12 - Nibbles/Bites
Thank you! I had a helluva time picking a ler for this, but I think Stan fits best. I need to write for him more anyways. This idea ironically happened less than 10 minutes after I finally chose Stan. My brain is weird like that (TvT). I hope you have a fun spooky season, Enjoy!
Lee: Dipper
Ler: Stan
Summary: Dipper is stressing out over the summer spooky season. Stan decides he needs a visit from a special kind of monster.
Warnings: none! This is a tickle fic, so if you don't like that, scroll away!!
Once again, the Gravity Falls Summerween store opened its doors. The odd tradition began again for the year, residents joyful as they picked out candies and decided on costumes. Well, every resident but one.
A certain brown-haired, blue-hatted tween was sitting in the Mystery Shack gift shop, biting at his fingers. Ever since the whole "Summerween Trickster" fiasco, Dipper had been wary of the town's strange holiday. He would never forget the scene of Soos eating that thing…ugh.
Stan was taking inventory, making sure nobody had nicked any of his moderately overpriced merchandise. His eyes eventually drifted over to his worrisome great-nephew. That kid would worry himself into the ground if Stan let him…
"Hey picks-a-lot, those cuticles taste good?" He walked over to the teen, flicking the bill of his hat. The older man didn't mean anything malicious by it. He's just unapologetically mean sometimes. Dipper was used to his Grunkle's antics, brushing the comment off.
Dipper tucked his hands in his jacket, looking down at the register. "Sorry Stan. Just thinking about…stuff." He hadn't realized he'd been biting his fingers again. It was an old habit, one he wasn't keen on picking back up. Yet there it was.
The uneasy expression on his face was barely hidden. Stan didn't really know what to do about the kid's nerves. Normally, he'd sick Mabel on him. The tween was out with Candy and Grenda, so that wasn't an option. What to do, what to do…
"Uh…look kid. You want the rest of your shift off? I've got the shop covered, and you look pretty dead." He gave it to the kid straight. Dipper looked like he was one loud noise away from snapping, his fraying nerves and general high-strung mindset on overdrive. Stan could handle the almost empty gift shop, Tuesdays were always slow.
Dipper nodded, hopping off the creaky cashier stool stool. "Yeah, please. Thanks, Grunkle Stan." He lumbered up the steps to the attic, gently closing the door to his shared room behind him.
What was Stan gonna do with that kid?
-
The next few days weren't any better. With the rapidly approaching local holiday, Dipper's nerves only grew. Mabel didn't really notice, too enamored by costume ideas and trying to figure out Waddles's measurements.
He didn't really know the absolute cause of his worry. Was it the chance of Mabel getting hurt? The possibility of another garbage candy monster? The fact that he still can't unsee Soos eating his way out of the monster? All are good guesses. He just wished he could pinpoint which one it was.
His antsy demeanor hadn't gone unnoticed by the other Mystery Shack residents. Soos had tried to get him to play some arcade games at the mall, but he just wasn't up for it. Wendy had little to no luck, her attempts to get him to loosen up going nowhere. It was up to Stan…and he had no idea what to do.
He had tried things that worked before, offering him an extra break and listening to his rants about the Journals. Dipper just wasn't up for infodumping at the moment, and he just got lost in thought on his breaks. On the morning of SummerWeen, Stan finally threw in the towel. He did the only thing he had left; asking Mabel what to do.
-
When he opened the door, Stan was met with Mabel trying to put a superhero suit on Waddles. She was dressed in similar attire, her cape dragging behind her. "Oh, hey Grunkle Stan! You come to see the best heros this side of the Falls kick some butt?"
Stan chuckled, shaking his head. He felt a bit bad for the pig, he doubted those tights were comfortable. Better Waddles than him, though. "Nah, I'll be quick. What should I do to get your brother to loosen up? Kid's been freakin' all week."
Mabel's eyes widened as he said this, her brain quickly piecing together the signs she hadn't noticed. "Crud…he has been anxious." She fidgeted with her hair, giving the pig a moment to nibble on his cape. "I normally talk him down, but if that hasn't worked…maybe make him laugh?"
Stan sighed as she said this. He considered himself a pretty funny guy, but his humor normally made Dipper groan or question his existence. Not the best for making Dipper laugh, though it always gets a chuckle out of himself
His thoughts wandered to the times he had made the kid snicker, landing on a few well-timed zings and one-liners. The last was when he had been messing around with Dipper in the gift shop. He poked his great-nephew's side, and he squealed. He hadn't done anything then, but now? Oh, it's perfect.
"Hey Mabel…your dorky brother is stupid ticklish, right?" She nodded, a smile slowly forming on her face as she figured out her Grunkle's intentions. Waddles nudged her arm, showing off the lovely slobber stain in his cape fabric. "Silly guy, now I gotta redo your cape! Grunkle Stan, do you think you can get Dipper to be less Dipper-ish by 6:30? Our costumes this year are super, heheh"
Stan rolled his eyes, his mischievous mind racing with ideas of how to get Dipper back to normal. Well, as normal as the tween gets. "Yeah, alright. If you hear girlish screaming, cheer me on." He shut the door behind him, leaving his grand-niece to her silliness. That kid never fails to make him smile.
-
Dipper was in the living room, a costume hung on the chair in front of him. Mabel's costume idea that summer was super heros, with him being the villain. It was actually kinda cool, with the utility belt of fake gadgets he and Mabel had put together. The only problem was him.
He was worried about putting the costume on. First off, it would mean going out and trick-or-treating with Mabel. Nothing's wrong with it, his brain was just telling him it's childish. There's also the fact that he's worried the Trickster might come back. Black licorice was bad enough before, but now he can't look at a stick without getting shivers. They very easily could've died.
Stan was creeping in the doorway, watching the tween's inner dilemma. If he wanted to be mean, he could've scared the crap out of him. But, showing a shocking amount of restraint, he knocked on the doorway. Stan walked over to him, ruffling the boy's hair. "Anybody home up there?"
Dipper, successfully snapped out of his daze, swatted at his Grunkle's hand. "Stan! Knock it off!" The older man chuckled, pulling his hand away and smirking down at the tween. That look…he knew that look. The look that meant Grunkle Stan was up to absolutely no good. "Stan…?"
He barely gave Dipper time to think before he snatched his great-nephew in his arms. It killed Stan's back, but it was worth it to hear the shocked yelp and protests from the kid. "Put me down! Stan- get off! Mabel!"
Stan flopped down in his recliner, holding Dipper in his lap. No help was coming for the boy. Mabel was in on it, as he quickly learned, and nobody else was at the Shack. It was just him, Stan, and the evil look on the older man's face as he wiggled his fingers. Crud.
"You worry too much, kid. You're gonna have more grays than me, and I put up with all'a you!" Those wiggling fingers were getting a bit too close to his stomach for comfort. Dipper squirmed, but with the way Stan held him, he was trapped. "Always thinkin' about these monsters and crazy creature things. You're so stuck in yer head, you didn't even notice the monster right in front of ya…"
He tazed Dipper's side, making him squeak at the unexpected touch. "Stahan, wait, plehehease-" He was so unbelievably screwed. "The TICKLE MONSTER!" Stan finally put his wiggling fingers on the boy's stomach, clawing and digging into the ticklish area.
Dipper squealed, shoving at his Grunkle's hands and writhing in his lap. His negative and anxious thoughts quickly faded to fuzzy, ticklish surprise. He hadn't expected this from Stan of all people. Mabel, absolutely, but Stan? He didn't really know how to react. "STAHAHAN! WHAHAHAT ARE YOUHU DOHOIHING?!"
"What's it feel like I'm doing, ya goofus? I'm tickling the snot outta ya. Now hold still." He spidered his fingers across his belly, making sure to get a few scratches in his belly button. "GEHEHET OFF! GRUHUNKLE STAHAHAN!"
Dipper kicked his legs, wishing the recliner was bigger. He barely had any room on Stan's lap, his legs nearly hanging off the armrest. Stan had him positioned so that his midsection was almost unprotectable, his arms practically pinned to his sides.
The tickling, as unexpected as it was, wasn't awful. He'd never tell the old man, but he was having a bit of fun. It was nice to let loose, to let his worrisome thoughts melt into giggles and squeaks.
The boy's laughter was, in Stan's eyes, adorable. It was nice to see the nervous kid laugh like that. Thinking of the night to come, he imagined the kids' costumes and candy-grab ideas. Candy...an evil idea bloomed in his mind. An evil, ticklish, awful idea. "I'm getting pretty hungry, Dipper. Might just have a quick snack…" He pulled up Dipper's shirt, waiting for the teen to catch on.
And catch on he did.
"Stahahan- Stan don't! Nonononoho!" Dipper's eyes went wide when he figured out Stan's plan. There's no way he could handle those. The tween desperately tried to get away, kicking out and trying to grab his Grunkle's hands.
His Grunkle easily pinned Dipper's hands, smirking down at him. It was almost too easy. Stan lowered his head, nibbling on his great-nephew's poor belly.
Dipper shrieked.
"NAHAHAHA! GRUHUNKLE STAHAHA- STAHAHAP!" He tossed his head back, kicking and thrashing under the ticklish nibbles. Stan's old man stubble wasn't helping. The scratchy texture made it so much worse.
Stan was enjoying himself. Hearing the kid's laughter reminded him of the stupid things he and his brother would do as kids, the fun they'd have. Before it all went south, they'd do this all the time. The best part was that he knew Dipper didn't mind it.
Just to be a jerk, he started making little "nom" noises as he nibbled the boy's stomach. Dipper twisted and shoved at his head, but Stan wouldn't budge. The tween resisted the urge to hit at Stan's head, instead gripping his silver hair. He didn't tug, but just grabbed on, needing something to do with his hands.
The nibbles traveled across his midsection, going from his stomach to his ribs, then back down to his belly button. Dipper was in stitches, the simple action reducing him to a cackling mess. He could barely think, his mind reeling at the assault on his nervous system. It wasn't bad, but it was mean.
Dipper managed to last for another two minutes before reaching his limit. The boy's laughter had taken on a breathy edge, his thrashing slowed with exhaustion. He patted the top of his Grunkle's head, tapping out.
Just like that, the torturous sensations stopped. Stan chuckled, raising his head and rubbing his great-nephew's midsection to try and ease the phantom tickles. Dipper curled into himself as he giggled out the leftover buzz. "Youhuhu…you suhuck…"
That got him a poke to the side. "Watch it, giggles." And Dipper, not having much of a choice, giggled. Stan let him go with a knowing smirk. The tween quickly slid off his lap, rubbing his sides. The clock read 5:30, just in time for him to get ready. "Your sister wants you dressed in an hour. Don't be late."
He left the room, leaving Dipper alone with his costume. Stan knew it wasn't a permanent fix. The boy was always stressing about something. He just hoped that the playful moment eased his worries for the night. Those kids deserve a good night.
The tween looked over at the suit, a small smile still on his face. The negative thoughts from before were gone, replaced with a light and happy feeling. He picked up the dark fabric, sliding the mask on over his red face. Maybe the night wouldn't be so bad after all…
#day 12#gf tickle#lee!dipper#ticklish!dipper#ler!stan#ler!stanley#augtickletober2022#sfw tickling community#tickle fic#tickle#gravity falls tickle#gravity falls#gf dipper#gf stanley#stanley pines#gravity falls fic
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Commissioned an art piece from Turquoise to illustrate my next-gen dipcifica family at Pioneer's Day! She did an impressive job!
Link to my next-generation series:
Is this Victorian Era AU? Or did the Pines get trapped in time? Or... are they just celebrating Pioneer's Day?
For a long time, I have hoped to commission a piece from @turquoisespace35, who is one of the most talented artists in the Gravity Falls fandom and pioneered the next-generation concept. Her style is pretty unique, and I'm curious to see her take on the dipcifica family of my next-generation fic series. The triplets are my original characters Nita, Nilam and Taka, named after the stars of the Orion Belt. I like how she drew Nilam (the waving girl on the far right). Really captures her adorableness. She's a sweet girl in my stories.
Turquoise is an excellent artist to work with and very professional. She often kept me updated on the sketches and progress of the work, while ensuring that my expectations were met. This work best captures my vision and reflects her talents. I'm glad she agreed to take up this request of mine, and I hope we might work together on future projects.
For those who wish to commission an art piece, I do recommend her (if she's still open to commissions). She did a splendid job. Here's the link to her commission sheet:
Also, feel free to drop any questions about my next-generation series, especially about the children and so on. Please feel free check out some of these works and hit the kudos button and/or comment! Any comments and constructive criticism help keep me going forward. Reblog too to help promote this series!
Stay weird, and have fun!
#gravity falls#dipper pines#pacifica northwest#dipcifica#gravity falls fic#gravity falls fanfiction#gravity falls fanart#gravity falls art#gravity falls next generation#next generation
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Gonna put this little Mistborn/Gravity Falls one shot here cause I think it's more likely for a cosmere fan to have seen Gravity Falls than it is for a Gravity Falls fan to have read Mistborn. Enjoy!
Just imagine... two old men in an inter-dimensional coffee shop, one with spikes through his eyes, one with a metal plate in his head.
"I don't think I'll ever forgive myself for my hand in the apocalypse..." the former muses, one finger running down the length of his mug of hot chocolate topped with whipped cream.
"Ah, don't give yourself too much credit. Ruin would have gotten free without your help. If anything, your presence brought his downfall. It was my actions and foolish pride that let Bill get anywhere."
Marsh considers for a moment. "That doesn't make your pain less real. The nightmares and guilt are there; now what do you do with it?"
Six fingered fists are clenched and released, clenched and released absentmindedly. "Move on." A whisper. "With hope for the next generation."
"I'll drink to that."
#mistborn#brandon sanderson#marsh mistborn#stanford pines#grunkle ford#gravity falls#one shot#gravity falls fic#crossover fic#cosmere
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[RUSHES IN COVERED IN BLOOD]
so, everyone remember this idea of mine?
what if i told you that the fic is up on ao3 right now?
(second chapter's still in the works! i wrote like half of it and then forgot to save it so rip. comments would be greatly appreciated btw <3)
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give me some tips to forget you (part one)
ford pines x reader
three times you tried to move on, three times he came back
word count: 1061 words that i didnt proofread, sorry im lazy ;P
angsty but there will be eventual fluff! this is part one of a three-part series. part two and three coming soon!
part one: could it be easy this once?
“I'm leaving next week.”
Four words are all it takes to make your heart fall into your stomach.
Backupsmore wasn't your first decision, but it also wasn't the worst school you could've landed yourself in you suppose. Ford had yet to say much about where he was going, but you saw the scouts. You saw how he lit up as he approached them, shook their hands, and made all the right moves. You knew he would get into some great school, move away, and follow his dreams that were undoubtedly much larger and more promising than yours. But god, you didn't expect it to hurt like this. You stare straight ahead into the blue ocean waves, hear them crashing into the side of the Stan O War, while Ford shifts beside you. Uncomfortable. He doesn't like the silence from your end of the plank.
What were you supposed to say?
‘Wow, Ford! I’m so thrilled that you are leaving me so soon with virtually no warning, and even though we promised to write letters, I know you'll get busier and busier until the letters stop and I never hear from you again. Oh, and by the way, I love you and it's been suffocating me but I wouldn't forgive myself if I held you back.’
“What day?”
─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .*☆ ﾟ. ───
His brown head of hair sat tauntingly close in front of you. Too far to get his attention without yelling (even though you wanted to scream at him until your lungs give out) but too close to pretend it wasn't him. That those weren't his glasses, his smile, his stupid sweater. This was all wrong. He was supposed to have big dreams, the kind the papers write about. The kind that changes the world, even for just a little bit. You were supposed to get your degree from an okay school, live a quiet life filling the void he left you with, and eventually learn to be happy without him. So how did you end up in the same damn orientation, at the same school, in the same musty, damp-smelling auditorium?
Saying goodbye to him just a few short days ago felt so final. He had said nothing to you about his true plans. You had helped him pack up his few boxes, he let you hug him as tightly as you could, and you had said goodbye to your best friend, thinking it would be the last time you'd ever see him in person, knowing he was moving on to bigger things. Bigger things than Jersey, bigger things than the rotting wooden boat on the beach, bigger things than you. He had lied to you to let you maintain your hope for him. You couldn't tell if you felt betrayed or relieved.
Everyone stood to leave as the presentation ended, and that is when he turned, meeting your eyes. Frozen in your seat, you had nowhere to hide. You watch as his eyes change from something familiar to something akin to sadness and embarrassment. As moments pass, your mind goes elsewhere. From the days spent working alongside him, to the nights quietly discussing theories and the unknowns of the universe. The way he would crack jokes that nobody but him could understand, his delivery making you laugh anyway. How he never made you feel dumb or insignificant, how he valued what you were interested in just as much as he valued his own. The way the fire that burned your heart when you were near him never died, but you were so ready to let it just so he could go on to be great. How saying goodbye was you finally stomping out the flames, just for him to show back up with gasoline.
You feel like it's been several years before he breaks eye contact and you finally have the strength to stand from your seat. His head disappears into the crowd exiting the room. You crane your head to try and catch another glimpse of the brown curls you know so well. It's in vain, there are simply too many people, and it's too dark in the room to discern him. You rush out of your aisle to catch up, shouldering and squeezing past, until you finally break through the crowd and out the door. You turn and look amongst the dispersing students, but nothing. You were about to turn when you hit something solid.
“I am so sor…” You start, and there he is. He wrings his hands nervously, looking everywhere but your face. You go to open your mouth, unsure of what to even say to him.
“Just listen. Please.” He ushers out before you can interrupt. He tests to see if you will do what he asks, waiting in silence for a few moments, before sighing. You watch as he untangles his fingers and his arm lifts, going to hold the back of his neck instead. “I didn't get in. Something happened, and I didn't get in. I didn't know how to tell you, and to be honest, I didn't know what you would think.I’m sorry, I should have told you instead of leading you on in my deception. I was hoping to find a more appropriate time to find you, but I suppose there is no time like the present, right? Heh...” he trails off with nervous laughter, only egged on by your pointed silence.
The urge to be pissed off is strong. But, the sadness you've felt since he left sits heavy in your chest. The nerves left from wondering when or if you will ever see your best friend again for the past several days finally fizzle out as he stands before you. His eyes grow more and more anxious as you still have yet to respond to his pleas. Your resolve diminishes.
You take a quick step forward, locking your arms firmly around him. He is slow to reciprocate but he eventually comes out of his shock to hug you back properly. His fingers gently squeeze your shoulder and you relish in the feeling. The moments you spend in each other's embrace stretch on, until you pull away slightly to look him in the face.
“If you ever lie to my face like that again Stanford Filbrick Pines, I will never forgive you.”
“I believe it.”
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Drifting Stars Masterlist Ⅱ
I never thought there would be a part two of this solely because of the limited number of fanfictions there actually are for this au. Yet here we are, four months later and somehow able to make this post. Same rules apply; general order of favourites, you are all entitled to your own opinion, add any I may have missed, and that's kinda it.
Onward!
Disconnected by DarrowWyrlde - 4th part of a series, 2 028 words, 2/13
Ok so this one probably should not be in this post at all since it's not drifting stars and more of a lost legends fic. I only put this one here because it's still about Mabel in the multiverse and who knows, maybe that's why you read drifting stars. I don't have much else to say, just thought I'd put it here.
Drift Away by GravityUniverse115 - oneshot, 1 174 words, 1/1
This one was written well despite it being fairly short, the only catch being that it - again - is not entirely drifting stars. It is about Mabel going through the portal, but it is written more as a concept in comparison to a typical oneshot. If someone did write a fic based off of this tho I would definitely read it.
The Drifting Star by Booblybaba - standalone, 35 337 words, 15/?
This was your typical drifting stars fic, I don't have too much else to say except that it was good and that it ends just as I was getting into it. It was a bit fast paced but again, not bad.
Into the Unknown by MintGreenMare - standalone, 31 681 words, 22/22
Finished and Drifting Stars does not go in the same sentence, and yet this fic exists. Fully complete, 100% resolved. It only took like 9 years for someone to actually finish writing one of these. It did take me a bit to get into it compared to other stuff I've read, mostly because it feels more like a collection of oneshots as opposed to a whole fic, but I did still enjoy it.
Ad Astra by Queen_Mab - standalone, 103 406 words, 18/?
So many people go crazy for this fic and I kinda get why, the worldbuilding is done really well and the stuff going on back in Gravity Falls is a lot more interesting than just Dipper and Stan rebuilding the portal. The only setback for me is that it feels unrealistic and was almost pushed too far in some aspects. But again, I get the appeal and do wanna see what would happen next.
Save That Light by Mezzorellasticks - standalone, 11 293 words, 5/?
I'm surprised there aren't more fic's with some of the concepts in this one. I won't spoil it but I could see this happening to Mabel more than once and yet no one has written about it. Some parts felt a little off in terms of character but overall it was pretty cool.
A Familiar Face by Missintroverted - 1st part of a series, 2 350 words, 1/1
This is another fic that's not entirely drifting stars but at the same time kinda is. Instead of Mabel being fully related to Ford, it's another version of her but older (possibly a relativity + reverse portal version). I thought it interesting and I enjoyed the interaction between the two.
Among The Stars by Maviiigirl - standalone, 4 603 words, 2/?
This fic follows the typical outline so far; Mabel falling through the portal, Ford being an awkward dumbass, the two figuring out what's going on before any proper multiverse madness occurs. But the way it was written was really good, that and the fact that this author also wrote a very good oneshot which gives me hope for the future of this fic.
A Little Help by Maviiigirl - oneshot, 3 130 words, 1/1
I thought this oneshot was so cool. Mabel being all responsible while internally panicking and Ford being delusional was actually so funny to me. Some parts were a little quick but overall I thought it was really well done. I kinda wanna see it be continued just to see what Ford would say when he woke up tho.
That's mostly it, if I were to compare the two list's I'd say the quality of the fics from the other one are far better, but these one's are a lot more recent meaning there is hope that some of them will be continued.
I didn't mean to insult any of these, I find my main problem with fanfiction is the way the characters are written and the way characters bond, especially since many are rushed and often there isn't enough time allowed for certain emotions to properly form before diving straight into hurt/comfort. I understand tho, I struggle with that a lot in my writing too.
Anyway, here's the first masterlist if you wanna look at those too :))
#text post#my text#text#gravity falls text post#gravity falls#gravity falls au#au#drifting stars au#portal au#fanfiction#fanfic#fanfic rec#gravity falls fanfiction#gravity falls fic#ao3#ao3 fanfic#masterpost#masterlist#mabel pines#ford pines#portal mabel#portal ford#ford and mabel bonding
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I only just got around to watching gravity falls, and I got a really good idea for a fic. Everything that I can find for the fandom is so old, though, that I wasn’t sure if there was enough of an audience left to warrant writing and posting it.
#gravity falls#gravity falls fanfiction#gravity falls fic#mabel pines#dipper pines#grunkle stan#grunkle ford#if you were meant to see this you’d have seen it by now with these tags I’m not going to bother with the other character tags#bill cypher#except for him bc I forgot he’s a tumblr sexy man
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Chapter 49 of human Bill Cipher being such a miserable prisoner even the Pines are starting to feel bad for him: The Eclipse: Epilogue.
####
"The heck did you do to that poor woman?" Tate asked, staring out the window. Bill was sitting on the pier, legs dangling in the water, staring blankly into the depths. He was still muddy and trembling. "She looks more traumatized than when y'all left."
Ford couldn't meet Tate's gaze under the brim of his hat, but he could feel Tate raising a brow when he spotted Dipper pacing back and forth on the pier behind Bill, muttering furiously.
"We've had a very bad day," Ford said.
"Uh-huh."
"Could I borrow your phone to call my brother?"
Outside, Dipper was oblivious to everything except the one line he'd managed to remember from the Axolotl, the words he'd picked out as they crossed the lake. "'Sixty degrees that come in threes,'" Dipper murmured. He knew that much. It was a poem. It was a rhyme. He couldn't remember the rest. What did it mean? He murmured it over and over to himself as he walked, trying to remember the next line, "'Sixty degrees that come in threes,' 'sixty degrees that come in threes'... breeze, freeze, ease, lease, knees—" He couldn't remember the rhyme.
Bill was considering grabbing Dipper by the ankle and dragging him off the pier just to shut him up when whatsisname, the younger McGucket came out of the shop. "Hello there? Miss Goldie?"
Human. Strange human. Human that Bill could get on his side. Be charming. He tried to remember how to be charming. He offered a feeble smile. "Yello?"
"I wanted to make sure you're all right," Tate said. "You look like you, uh... you've had a hard time."
Bill laughed ruefully. "Well, I've been dragged all over the mountain, I'm hungry, exhausted, and half-drowned, and I can barely walk—but I'm not currently dead. Allegedly. I'll take what I can get."
The corners of Tate's mouth twitched down in a concerned frown. "Is there anything you need? A..." He floundered for a moment, "A water, or...?"
"I've had enough water to last me a lifetime." He wondered idly whether he could claim he was too exhausted to make it all the way home—there was a sofa in the staff room, Tate would probably let the poor bedraggled "woman" take a nap, if Bill got that bit of distance between himself and the Pines maybe he could... maybe he could... do something with it? But he couldn't think of anything more definite than that and now Ford was coming back and the window of opportunity closed. He shrugged wearily. "Just need to get back to the shack. Thanks." He half heartedly used the lake water to wash the drying mud off his lower legs and knees.
"Stan will be here in about twenty minutes," Ford said, and tried to ignore the dirty look Tate gave him.
"I'll be just inside if you need anything else," Tate said. "Watching." He headed inside—and then, indeed, stood at the shop window and watched.
Ford was never going to get on Tate's good side. He suspected Tate would be a little less sympathetic to the poor woman on the pier if he knew who he really was; but it certainly wouldn't make Tate like Ford any better for keeping him around.
"Nothing to do now but wait." Ford unloaded the rest of their supplies from the borrowed motor boat. He dropped Soos's Monster-Mon backpack beside Bill—it was heavy, Bill must have just shoved his clothes and bedsheet straight in without bothering to wring out the water—and the plastic bag of snacks Dipper had bought. "You ought to eat more while we wait." Ford nudged the snack bag.
Bill sneered at it. "I don't want that trash."
"What?" Ford examined the bag's contents. Jerky, chips, candy, cups of marshmallow cereal... "This is ninety percent of what you eat."
"Ninety percent of what I eat is what I can scavenge from the counters."
Ford looked through the bag again. Ah. Right. So it was. "If you want something else, you know you can ask us to..."
"Mac and cheese."
Maybe Ford had better stop talking. He sighed and glanced at Dipper to see how he was doing.
It didn't look like Dipper had even registered Ford's return, too busy pacing and muttering to himself. Ford frowned. "Dipper?"
"Axolotl," Bill explained. "He's obsessing over him. Didn't I tell you that meeting that thing would drive him insane?" He tilted his head toward Dipper. "Look at that, he's already mumbling to himself. Don't suppose you have his therapist's number, do you? I doubt that would save him, but it might slow the process—"
Ford shushed him.
Dipper had briefly tuned back into the conversation when he heard Bill say Axolotl; and now he grit his teeth and stubbornly tuned it back out. No. He was not going insane. Dipper would figure this out. If he just remembered the rest he'd be fine. He tried to go through all the potential rhymes alphabetically, "—bees, cease, d—deez?" That wasn't a word. "Fees, geese, he's..." and on and on, "seas, tees, uh... vees? Wheeze..."
"I've had enough of you trying to convince that boy he's about to go mad," Ford muttered to Bill. "What do you get out of saying that? Even if you do convince him he's insane, it won't make him start trusting anything else you say."
"I'm not lying," Bill said heatedly. "You ought to know that, you've been in the multiverse, you've seen plenty of maddening sights. You saw them before you even left the Nightmare Realm."
Ford hesitated before responding; was Bill trying to persuade Ford he was insane? But he could still remember those first few moments of terror in the Nightmare Realm: the creatures that had seemed to move and shift in impossible ways as they swam in and out of dimensions Ford couldn't see, the lights and colors that throbbed like an inverted migraine, Bill himself seemingly suspended a million light years away and a foot in front of Ford's face at the same time. Until Ford had latched onto his quest to destroy Bill and let that focus him, his mind had felt like an unraveling sock. "You were chief among those maddening sights."
"I was," Bill acknowledged neutrally.
"But I didn't go insane."
"Because you knew when to look away." He cast a sideways glance at Dipper, an implicit unlike him. "I know you used to read cosmic horror. Do you know why the narrator always goes mad just from looking at some giant beast? It's not because it's too ugly to take. It's because once you meet something, you try to understand it; but if you want to understand the reality something like that comes from," he rolled an eye up toward where the invisible Axolotl had hung in the sky, "you have to lose your understanding of your own reality. They're incompatible. Like the lunatics who escaped Plato's cave and came back ranting about nonsense like sunlight and colors."
It was a twisted interpretation of the cave allegory. Plato had meant it as a metaphor for education: that learning about the true nature of reality was enlightening, but alienated you from your peers.
Perhaps to Bill, enlightenment and insanity were the same thing.
Ford murmured, "Once your eyes have been too dazzled by the sunlight to see the dim shadows, you'll never be awed by a candle again."
"You have been there before."
Ford didn't answer.
"Once you've seen something like that, if you let yourself dwell on the significance of it all, you're doomed. Better to tell yourself it's unimportant and try to forget it ever happened."
Ford thought of Fiddleford.
Bill twisted around to snap tiredly at Dipper, "So stop staring at the sun before you go blind, moron."
"Shut up." Dipper had been trying to mentally drown out Bill's dire predictions by grasping for more rhymes—"disease, unease, Socrates"—but enough filtered through to make his stomach churn with nervousness. What if Bill was right? What if he never remembered what the Axolotl told him—what if he drove himself mad trying? What if this turned into a lifelong obsession—but he'd be fine and could let it go once he remembered—was that the trap? Was whatever it had told him impossible for a human to remember? Was it something so incomprehensible a human couldn't remember it without going crazy?
But he'd seen plenty of stuff last summer that was supposed to make humans go "insane." Bill had to be messing with him. He remembered the first line—surely that meant he could remember the rest—but was that part of the trap? "'Sixty degrees that come in threes'... come on, there's something else, I know it, what is it? 'Sixty degrees that come in threes'—"
Bill sighed irritably. "'Watches through the eyes in trees.'"
Dipper stopped pacing. He hadn't realized he'd raised his voice enough to be audible. "What?"
"What?" Bill said.
"What's the rest of it?"
"What rest of it? It's a couplet. That's all," Bill said. "Is that what he told you? He gets rhymey when he feels self-important, it's no big deal. Maybe you're lucky. Put it out of your head and you'll be fine."
Dipper turned the words over in his head. Sixty degrees that come in threes, watches through the eyes in trees... "That's not exactly right," he said slowly. "It was 'watches from within birch trees.'"
"Is that how he translated it? I've never heard it in English before. I got close, though, I knew it'd rhyme."
Ford echoed, "'Sixty degrees that come in threes.' Like a triangle?"
Dipper gave him a perplexed look. "What?"
"You're taking geometry next year, aren't you? The inner angles of polygons always have the same number of degrees; and a triangle has a hundred and eighty degrees. Three angles of sixty degrees forms... an equilateral triangle."
Dipper and Ford stared at Bill.
Bill gave them a tired, unreadable look. "What?" he said. "Don't look at me. I'm not the only equilateral triangle in the universe."
Well, now Dipper was sure there was more to the poem than just a couplet. "How many other equilateral triangles spy on people through birch trees?"
"Lay off," Bill said crabbily. "I didn't have to tell you that line. Don't make me regret it." He planted his elbows on his knees, laced his hands together, pressed his forehead to them, and massaged his eyelids with his thumbs.
He tilted slightly to the right, keeping the weight of his head off his left arm.
####
"Nice shirt," Stan said, eyeing Ford's anger management t-shirt.
"If you like it, you can have it."
"What happened to your coat?"
"Somewhere at the bottom of the lake," Ford sighed.
"How...?"
"I'll fill you in later."
Bill's trembling was almost unnoticeable by the time Stan arrived. Or, at least, it was slight enough that he could stand and make the short walk from the pier to the car without an obvious struggle.
He climbed into the back seat, slid across the bench, leaned against the door, wrapped his arms around his Monster-Mon backpack, fell asleep, and didn't wake up for the entire drive home.
Dipper and Ford fell silent when they noticed; and, sensing the heavy atmosphere, Stan followed suit.
####
The event organizers for Higher Dimensional Gate had arranged for the Magister Mentium's audience to surround him in a circle with as large a circumference as possible, so that as many shapes as possible could pack into the first few rows where they could see him. Even so, the crowd was much too large for everyone to be in the first few rows. Speakers had to be planted throughout the crowd so that they'd all be able to hear the Magister speak. Most of his audience couldn't see him.
But he, with his all-seeing eye, could see all of them.
The crowd extended back, row after row after row, in every direction like flecks of multicolor confetti filling the air all the way to the horizon. He'd never spoken to such a large crowd before. He didn't think he'd ever seen such a large crowd before.
Not all of them were his worshipers. He didn't have that many worshipers. The rest were drawn in by his boast—to be the first shape outside of legends to predict an eclipse, over six months ahead of schedule. They were here for a spectacle. He meant to give them one.
If he succeeded, all these spectators would become his worshipers, he was sure of it. If he didn't succeed, he lost everything. The whole nation knew about his bet. He'd be financially ruined. His worshipers would abandon him. There would be no fleeing to a new town and starting over; everyone everywhere knew who he was. His life would be over.
This would be only the third eclipse he could recall. There's no way to neatly map shape ages onto human ages. Different year lengths, different aging speeds, different mental and physical milestones. But approximately, compared to a human, he was scarcely over fifteen years old.
But he wouldn't fail. He pushed all his fears aside. He didn't even want to think about them. He wouldn't, because he couldn't, because he could see what nobody else saw. He could see the eclipse's approach.
It was traveling across the vast empty gulf outside the world.
The only other third dimensional objects he'd ever seen were the sun—which looked to him like a circle—and the stars—which seemed to be mere points. He assumed all third dimensional objects were fundamentally just second dimensional objects, moving on a strange plane. He had no capacity to model a 3D object in his mind.
But the eclipse was a beast that twirled and gyrated around impossible axes, moving and rotating in ways his eye couldn't even comprehend. To him, it looked as though the living creature—he assumed it was a living creature, sometimes it manifested a couple of limbs or an eye—was constantly shapeshifting, its perimeter moving and altering. Its uncanny undulations had haunted his nightmares for months after he first watched it, so young he'd barely started school. It wasn't any less nightmarish now.
But as incomprehensible and terrifying as it was, he could see it, and nobody else here could, and that was all that mattered. He could watch it on the horizon and publicly announce that it would cross the sun in two weeks—and then in about three days—and then, to his humiliation, not tomorrow but today, guaranteed, as the creature sped up and threw off his estimate. His worshipers and bemused spectators had taken over the square to while away the time. They'd quickly gathered around him to wait after he'd declared it would arrive within the hour
That had been almost an hour and a half ago. The stupid thing had slowed down.
The triangle was terrified.
In every direction, shapes were staring at him. Waiting. His father was watching him—his stare seemed to grow heavier by the minute. He could see reporters in the crowd taking notes.
He had to fight not to pace, not to cringe, not to show any nerves in front of the hundreds of eyes.
Now. It had to be now. It was so close. Please don't let him be wrong. Every cord in his body quivered in terror as he grabbed his microphone and announced: "Lines, bis, tris—quads, quints, and more! My dear students and beloved believers, and my—" he cut off the urge to say something nastier, "—curious visitors, who I hope will join our quest for enlightenment. This is the moment you've been waiting for! The eclipse is upon us! In less than a minute, it will begin!" He had to keep his gaze forward as he spoke, looking at his audience. (His mother had always said the way his eye went white when he was looking at the third dimension unnerved people.) "Soon—you won't have to take all my claims about the third dimension on faith. You'll be able to see for yourself the effect of the third dimension on the plane."
The crowd murmured excitedly. He could see his father relax. He stared up-but-not-north, gnawing nervously on his eyelid until he caught himself. The beast above glowed a warm pink in the light of the nearby sun.
And the stupid thing. Slowed. Again.
He stared in disbelief.
"Sixty seconds," his father whispered, out of range of the microphone.
His stomach flopped. He was dead.
"One minute, fifteen seconds. What's going—?"
He held his microphone away and hissed, "The eclipse decided to zigzag."
"Eclipses can zigzag?"
"Shhh!" He'd already failed. He'd already shown everyone he was wrong. He could hear the murmurs. His eye hurt from staring at the sun and from straining for so long to turn so far upward-not-northward, go faster faster faster—
There! The snout of the eclipse was this close to kissing the perimeter of the sun. He cried triumphantly, "Now!"
The wretched beast did a loop-the-loop around the sun and missed it entirely.
The triangle felt the last strands of his fraying self-composure snap.
He howled in rage.
He could hear laughs from the crowd. They felt like daggers in his sides.
"ARE YOU KIDDING ME?!" He was bellowing into outer space as if he thought it might hear him, "Do your think this is a game?! Is this funny?! Are you trying to humiliate me in front of the whole world!" His father put a hand on his arm; the triangle shoved him away. "Get back here right now! You thick, brainless, blobby, pink, feeler-faced two-eyed freak of nature! GET BACK HERE and LOOK ME IN THE EYE!" He was a lunatic, everyone would know it, their leader raving in a direction no one could actually see about some big pink delusion, what did he care, no one would ever take him seriously again anyway—
And the thing in the sky.
Stopped.
And looped back.
And came closer, and closer, and bigger, and bigger—it just kept getting bigger, how far away had it been before, how large was it, how large was the sun?
He hardly noticed the crowd's gasp as the creature twirled between them and the sun—the light shone through its body, pink with blood—and then out of the way, and then in again, and out—until finally it was so close that its perimeter completely engulfed the sun. He'd taken a field trip to the planet's surface once—an enormous solid mass of stone and crystal. Until now, he'd never seen another solid objects so large. To his limited understanding of 3D objects, it looked as though there were no organs inside its perimeter—just a layer of solid, uninterrupted flesh. He didn't know how it could even move.
It stopped straight over him.
He was sure the two black circles embedded inside its body must be its eyes. His whole life he'd heard psychic powers—psychic powers like his own—described as having an "inner eye." But he'd thought the phrase was just a metaphor. An eye on the inside of a body instead of on its perimeter would be useless to most people. He'd never seen a creature with an eye literally on the inside of its body. But the eclipse had two.
And they were looking at him.
A giant ever-shapeshifting cosmic horror from outside of reality, staring through the veil separating the sane world from outerplanar space, and it was looking—at—him.
He was terrified.
He heard an alien voice in his head, vast and deep and slow as distant whale song:
"Hello there!" It was overjoyed. It was tickled pink. "I've never been spoken to by a shape on the wall before. I didn't know you could see off of it!"
Weakly, the triangle repeated, "'A shape on the'...?"
"Yes, this wall of yours." The eclipse gestured with its tail at—everything. A single sweep that took in an entire dimension. "I've probably commuted past this wall billions of times, and nothing's ever called to me before. I didn't know shadows could do that!"
"'Shadows'?" the triangle echoed again. That was all they were? An eclipse's shadows?
"I'm absolutely delighted," the eclipse said. "First contact from a lower-dimensional species! I've watched you for eons and never imagined. Isn't this exciting! How charming of you! Tell me who you are."
Him? "Me?"
"Of course. Who else?" It stared at him. Only him. A shapeshifting force of nature the size of a planet with two inner eyes, an eclipse that saw him as a shadow—and it was looking only at him.
Weakly, he said, "I'm... the Magister Mentium."
The eclipse thought that over. Its tone was a tad dubious and not terribly impressed (why should it be impressed? he was embarrassed at himself for giving his silly puffed-up title)—but it said, "Yes, I suppose that's true. I am the Axolotl. It's been a pleasure meeting you." It began to shapeshift again—its eyes slid sideways through its body, until one reached its perimeter and disappeared.
It dawned on the triangle, in its first immature understanding of third dimensional objects, that its eye had disappeared because the Axolotl was turning away. "Wait!" he cried. "Why..." Why answer him? Why focused on him so completely, if he was just a shadow? Why ask who he was like he mattered? He didn't even know how to put those questions to words in his own mind, much less out loud. "Why are you here so early?"
The Axolotl turned back to the triangle. "Oh! I had to go back for some documents I forgot at the office. Big case in the morning," it said. "You shadows know my schedule?"
"You... pass in front of the sun."
The Axolotl turned away, eyes disappearing and frills fluttering, to look at the sun. "So I do! How funny." It turned toward the triangle and gave him a strange, grotesque look that—by the tone of its psychic voice—he suspected was a smile. "I must get going. I'll be heading into the office a few hours late tomorrow, but perhaps I'll see you again then." And it turned away. It felt like it took forever for the enormous body to sail over-not-north-of the triangle—and pass, at last, out of the sun's path.
The triangle didn't look down-but-not-south until someone shook his side—his father. He lowered his dazed gaze to the crowd—the cheering, applauding crowd. Ma-gi-ster, Ma-gi-ster. A sea of multicolor confetti shapes that filled the air to the horizon.
Shadows.
His father shook him again—"Go on, say something. They're waiting"—and the triangle held up his mic as though he were in a dream. He tried to remember what he was supposed to say. "I was right," he said flatly. "Just like I always told you. I can see the third dimension. The realm of dreams—of colors, of light, and..." The lies left a sick taste in the back of his eye. He couldn't say them. Points of light in darkness and pink nightmares.
"I'm s— You'll all have to excuse me," he said, his voice childish and small. "I can't—I've had a... a... profound... spiritual experience. I must meditate on the revelations I've received." The words felt like woo-woo mumbo-jumbo. "The next eclipse will be a few months after the new year." It seemed important, for some reason, to pass that information on. Wasn't that what he always said he did? Share the wisdom of third dimensional spirits with his followers? "I... have to go now."
His father took his elbow. "This is your moment," he whispered. "Come on, son—you don't want to lose your chance to speak directly to them, do you?"
He shoved the microphone in his father's side. "You speak to them."
"But—"
"I can't," he said. "I can't."
He cut through the crowd as fast as it would part for him—if they were any slower, he'd have started stabbing his way through—haunted the whole way by their applause.
####
And that was it.
From the Axolotl's perspective, he had just had a brief pleasant exchange with a precocious tadpole in a sidewalk puddle.
From the triangle's perspective, he might as well have been standing on the boat deck watching as Cthulhu rose from his millennia of dead slumber at the bottom of the ocean, turned to the fragile vessel bobbing on the waves, and said, "Good morning! Glorious weather we're having, isn't it?"
And from the perspective of the Higher Dimensional Gate, their Magister Mentium had predicted an eclipse, been rightfully insulted when it didn't come the exact second he ordered it, and furiously summoned down an eclipse darker and swifter and longer than any in recorded history.
Up until then, he had been seen as, at best, an oracle. A prophet. A messenger to share the secrets of the third dimension, but that was all he could do. But now, he had commanded forces in an unseen dimension, creating an eclipse months before it was natural. He had made it flicker on and off like he had his finger on the sun's light switch. News reports and the most unimpeachable scientific authorities reported that the eclipse had centered on the location of the Higher Dimensional Gate rally, narrowed down to an inexplicably small radius around that point, and then remained unchanged for several long minutes, long enough for anyone in its shadow to grow fatigued from the missing sunshine. Nothing like that had ever happened before. It defied every known fact about the science of eclipses.
People around the gathering—even people who had known nothing about the Higher Dimensional Gate rally—reported that during the eclipse, they'd become inexplicably disoriented, unable to tell compass directions, and had felt themselves fall toward the darkness—as if gravity's pull had suddenly moved from the south to the epicenter of the eclipse. Public building inspections confirmed that somehow the entire town had shifted, ever so slightly, closer to the epicenter. Closer to the Magister.
Never mind prophecy; as far as the Magister's rapidly-increasing followers were concerned, he might have been a god.
It was the greatest triumph a baby cult leader could ask for.
He barely noticed.
####
For days, he could hardly sleep, speak, or think. He kept losing track of conversations to stare into space. Now, it awed his followers when his eye turned an empty white—he must have been communing with something in a higher dimension.
He didn't argue. It was better than letting them know he was losing his mind.
He spent his time alone locked in his room, pacing back and forth, trying not to look up-but-not-north and failing. Dwelling on the significance of it all. Feeling like he'd never figure it out.
He used to love cosmic horror stories, back when he had time to read. They followed a reliable pattern: the hero travels farther than any rational shape ever should, meets something big, and goes mad from the realization.
And what was it that the hero always realized? That he was a dust fleck in the firmament. That he was insignificant. That he didn't matter. That there were things out there he'd never seen before and would never truly understand, and that they cared not for mere shadows on the wall like him, and that in the grand scheme of the cosmos he was nothing. That he was utterly unimportant.
In moments of what felt like lucidity in between the shivering horror, the triangle wryly acknowledged that it was no surprise he'd ended up in a cosmic horror story. He could see into another dimension. In the stories he'd read, that made it all but inevitable.
But all the authors had gotten the maddening revelation wrong. He could have handled knowing he was nothing. It almost would have been a relief.
True horror was knowing he mattered.
He'd spent the majority of his young life selling the idea that he was oh-so-important, as part of a big con to trick gullible idiots into liking him and flinging cash at his rotten undeserving family—and he'd only been able to do it because when the guilt got to him, when his conscience asked what would become of the shapes forking over their life savings on false promises of divine secrets, he could look out into bleak black space and tell himself that nothing really mattered, nothing was important, nothing he'd ever do would really make a difference, and the people he manipulated didn't matter any more than he did. He meant everything to his worshipers, and nothing to the universe. He could do anything and it didn't matter.
For a moment, a vast mind-melting shape-shifting incomprehensible eldritch god had focused its full attention on him—of all the universe, of all the dimensions beyond the known universe, it had looked at him and only him—a mere shadow on the wall, and yet in that moment, it found him interesting. It found him worthy of notice. He had screamed into the cold uncaring void, and the void had cared. For a moment, he'd held cosmic importance. He mattered. His actions mattered.
He'd felt it see him as important, but why? What was so important about him? There had to have been something significant he'd done, something he showed it, something in what he said. He replayed their conversation in his mind over and over and over and over, trying to remember what he'd done that proved he mattered.
He didn't know what it was. He couldn't find it. All he could remember was just... being.
The writers were wrong. Cosmic horror wasn't when an elder god's eyes slid past you without noticing you existed. It was when the elder god gazed down at you at your lowest and bleakest, during your most petty and selfish act of mass swindling, from a dimension where not even slamming the door and shutting your eye could shield you from its gaze—and it decided you were worth caring about. Cosmic horror was when you encountered a colossal alien that planted the incomprehensibly alien idea in your head that you had an inherent worth just because you existed. Cosmic horror was when a force of nature asked the name of a shadow on the wall.
If it was true... if it all mattered... then what was he doing? How could he? What had he done?
####
He was lucky—he was lucky that his parents had raised him to think so clearly about issues like morality and money and easy marks. His only saving grace was that he was too rational to seriously entertain the Axolotl's mad ideas.
And yet, his mind boiled with mad regret. It blazed with insane guilt. The heat of it could burn him out. It was months before he could continue his public sermons without feeling sick—and even once he did, he could still feel the delusion that what he did mattered, festering in his mind.
It would fester for the next trillion years.
####
(And that concludes this plot arc! I hope y'all enjoyed it!! I'd love to hear what y'all thought of the whole thing—especially now that we've looped back to the original eclipse. 😁)
#bill cipher#the axolotl#(for the art)#human bill cipher#(for the fic)#gravity falls#gravity falls fic#gravity falls fanart#fanart#my art#my writing#bill goldilocks cipher
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Monster Falls
Stan the Gargoyle
I may be late to this AU.
I've known of Monster Falls since it was published but I haven't read the story. I know Stan touches the enchanted stream and turns into a Gargoyle.
Here is my version of Stan's form. A more savage and bestial approach.
#gravity falls fanart#gravity falls#gravity falls fandom#art#fanart#stan pines#stanley pines#gravity falls fanfiction#gravity falls au#gravity falls art#gravity falls fic#grunkle stan
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could i rq general headcanons of yandere bill cipher? :-) have a wonderful day btw!!
Dude Bill is literally my fav Gravity Falls character, anyways here you go and thank you for the request!
They/them for the reader
!tw: mention of blood, violence, kidnapping, torture and typical yandere stuff, spoilers!
<Yandere Bill Cipher x Reader HCS>
Ok so first of all, Bill first stumbled upon you in a small, weird town called Gravity Falls.
You were walking around in the forest, looking at trees, picking up rocks, simply enjoying a warm summer day in the bizarre town.
Bill can’t really explain why, but you strangely seemed to have caught his attention, as he continued to watch you from afar.
You seemed rather interesting and Bill didn’t exactly have anything better to do than to follow this eye catching h/c human around.
———————————————————
After that little incident, Bill couldn’t get his mind off of you. He didn’t understand why though, you were just a mere human after all, and he was a literal demon! But there was just something special about your aroma, like you were pulling him in somehow. You just seemed so different, unique, pretty… weird huh?
Bill decided that he needed to know more about you, so that’s exactly what he did! For a few months he continued to stalk keep an eye on you, gathering some information about yourself. Nothing wrong with that, right? He was just looking out for you.
Over time, Bill’s obsession with you started to grow, and not in an healthy way. He found himself craving to talk to you, to make you smile and to kiss you…(how that works, I do not know:P)
The triangle finally decided that enough was enough. He NEEDED to have you.
After a little thinking, Bill decided that the most appropriate way to go about this would be to try and make a deal with you. It’s his specialty after all!
So one morning you woke up to find a… dorito person?? floating right above your head, staring straight at you. Had that thing… had it been watching you sleep?!
“Greetings, my lovely little muse!” The yellow thing said, while bowing down and tilting it’s hat in a formal way. “How are you, Y/n, doing on this beautiful morning? Would you like some rabbit teeth-“ “AAAAAAAAAAH”
Bill desperately tried to calm you down and tell you that he meant no harm. After a bit of a struggle, you finally calmed down and listened to what he had to say.
The demon offered you a deal that honestly seemed too good to be true. You would get whatever you wished for, and all he needed in return was just a small, little favor! Whether you choose to expected this deal or not is completely up to you.
If you expect, he would be thrilled! “Great! Just great, my little friend! Now, my dear, I just need an itsy bitsy little thing from you… you!”
If you declined, however, he would just have to resort to more drastic measures to get what he desires. Either way you’re coming with him, whether you like it or not.
——————————————————————————
Now that Bill finally has you, I feel like he’s actually going to treat you pretty decent! He’s a gentleman you know, and he knows how to treat you right.
He has a romantic side, constantly giving you gifts, telling you how precious you are, and he even plays the piano for you!
Don’t be fooled though, if you do get on his bad side he won’t hesitate to punish you.
Bill can be a bit of a sadist and his punishments are usually cruel and inhumane. However, I don’t think he’s gonna hurt you physically, like cutting limbs or torture, no. I feel like Bill, being the bizarre creature he is, is probably going to punish you by for example turning you’re legs into chicken legs! Basically anything strange or abnormal that would cause you distress. He probably enjoys it as well, seeing the look on your face as you scream and run around the room. “You’re gonna have to run faster then that toots! Ahahaha!”
The dorito man probably wouldn’t chain you up or something, unless he has to. He’ll let you walk around freely in his weird dimension, moreover, you probably wouldn’t even dare to try and escape either way , since Bill has stated various threats, and made it crystal clear that he or other creatures in his dimension will hurt you, or people you care about (y’know like in the show, with Dipper and Mabel? The “ini mini miny YOU” scene) if you leave him for too long.
When it comes to jealousy, I don’t think Bill would get that jealous, honestly. He knows you’re his, plus you wouldn’t really be able to leave anyway. Although, if anyone did look at you the wrong way, well… let’s just say he won’t hesitate to kill for you. The triangle would sometimes even bring you present to remind you that you belong to him and him alone, although the gifts could sometimes be a bit gory, if you get what I’m saying. Bill would someday want to rule over the galaxy, with you by his side. That’s his ultimate goal and fantasy.
I don’t really think this is the worst situation to get stuck in, I mean come on! He can literally get you whatever you want, just as long as you love him! With just a few dark moments here and there, I think Bill would actually be a pretty good significant other, even though he can be a bit possessive.
#gravity falls#gravity falls x reader#bill cipher#bill cipher x reader#gravity falls bill#gravity falls bill x reader#gf bill cipher#fanfic#gravity falls fic#yandere#yandere bill cipher#yandere gravity falls#yandere bill cipher x reader#yandere hcs#cartoon#x reader#yandere fanfiction#gravity falls yandere#gravity falls book#mabel pines#dipper pines#gravity falls dipper#gravity falls mabel
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AAHHH AO3 down in the middle of me reading a 128 chap unfinished fic?!?!?!?!!!?!!;!
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I’ll give u guys a sneak peek coz I’m so nice :3
First time I’ve ever rlly drawn Ford, and this is the final design after I’ve STRUGGLED getting it exactly how I wanted it
As usual, @its-always-ashen was subjected to this lol
His hair was a pain in the ass to draw too, but it’s worth it honestly 😌
#digital art#clip studio paint#digital illustration#digital drawing#digital sketch#digital arwork#digital fanart#digital aritst#grunkle ford#gravity falls fandom#gravity falls#gravity falls fic#gravity falls fanfiction#young ford pines#ford pines#gravity falls fanart
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