#bill cipher gravity falls

[thecluelessdoctor]

i spent too long on this

I spent way to much time animating this for ✨ the season ✨

The cover was made by @gray-dubs andddd you can find it here

I HOPE YOUR OKAY WITH THIS MAN IF NOT JUST SAY THE WORD AND ILL TAKE THE POST DOWN-

[imbackbilly]

I carved you to my arm thoughts on this bob?

Thanks for the peep hole into your sad pathetic life, you've actually done something good for once!

also it's BILL. B-I-L-L. Bill. Not bob. Why do so many people get that mixed up it's not that hard people!

[spase2axolotl]

Grappling hook! :D

[patisnothome]

[joyousjunelynne08]

wonder how that’s going for him

[kiropng]

christmas wip... heh...

[jokers-new-selfship-blog]

More denial!

Yeah, I actually like pickles on my burgers...

[gfthe-fearsome-foursome]

Alright spill the tea: who has a crush on who 👀👀

"Uh..."

"Can we change the subject?"

"...??"

"I plead the fifth!"

ooc: I know you guys are looking for the dynamics in this AU so have these, should be pretty self-explanatory XD

[ezratheanon]

Doodles doodles doodles doodles

[dead-moth-art]

Human Bill design

[thecluelessdoctor]

oh no I watched Klaus for the millionth time guys golly it would be a shame if I made angst out of the most impactful scene in the film

[matrixbearer2024]

First Time Meeting You [Modernity AU] (Bill/Ford)

Ford had never been interested in making friends or having a social life; frankly, he considered it a waste of time. He preferred to spend his energy studying, honing his existing skills, or learning new ones. That was until he befriended an odd blond a year his senior. Who could have guessed what started from a simple statistics lecture?

Stanford had never been a fan of morning classes. He wasn’t, and likely never would be, a morning person. Nighttime had always been his domain— when his mind, unburdened by the constraints of the day, could race freely with endless ideas. While others eagerly surrendered to sleep, slipping into dreams, Ford found the concept frustratingly unproductive. Sleep, in his eyes, was an inconvenience—a waste of precious time better spent sharpening his skills or learning something new. Yet it was the one thing he consistently procrastinated, a necessity he begrudgingly tolerated, often delaying it until his body had no choice but to give in.

Even when he managed to fall asleep, waking up was another ordeal entirely. The relentless blare of his phone’s alarm tearing through the fragile silence of dawn was a cruel adversary, the high-pitched repetitive tone dragging him from the comforting cocoon of his warm blankets and soft pillows. It felt like peeling his body from quicksand— his limbs heavier than lead and his thoughts scattered, as if someone had tossed his brain into a blender and hit "purée." Mornings were battles he rarely won, and caffeine, in ludicrous amounts, was his weapon of choice. It kept him sharp, alert— perhaps a little jittery and eccentric— but to him, the trade-off was worth it.

Maybe he simply enjoyed being busy, or perhaps his restless mind refused to allow him peace. People had told him to lighten up before, but the truth was, he didn’t know how. The concept felt as foreign to him as sleep was.

“Stanford, could you solve this question for us?”

The voice of his professor cut through his thoughts, pulling him back to reality. Blinking, Ford lifted his head from the notebook where he’d been furiously scribbling notes. His eyes flicked to the board, scanning the problem. ANOVA— analysis of variance. The topic seemed almost elementary to him, despite its complexities. He’d encountered such material before and had long since surpassed it in his studies. Solving these equations felt like second nature, though he knew his obsession with discovery fueled his excitement for the new and unknown. 

He loved innovation more than life itself.

Without a word or moment of hesitation, Ford rose and approached the board; mind already calculating and crunching numbers. His movements were automatic, driven by habit rather than thought. He accepted the marker offered to him and began writing, the squeak of the pen against the whiteboard punctuating the silence. Numbers and formulas buzzed alight in his mind; he didn’t need a calculator for something so basic. Years of practice had honed his ability to process these calculations faster than most computers. Solving this question should have been child’s play.

Then, unexpectedly, his mind blanked.

It was just an addition— two numbers, albeit with an absurd number of decimals— but suddenly, he couldn’t make sense of it. The numbers swirled, uncooperative, refusing to align. His grip tightened on the marker as frustration crept in, his brain scrambling to recalibrate. Why now? Why here? The professor’s gentle voice broke through his haze, gently nudging him along, but the damage to his pride had already been done.

Though he managed to complete most of the problem, the professor eventually stepped in, praising his efforts. Ford handed back the marker, feeling the sting of failure. He knew the expectations weren’t high— this was an introductory lecture, after all— but he had wanted to impress both the professor and his peers. Instead, he’d frozen mere steps away from success.

He walked back to his seat feeling deflated, the missed opportunity gnawing at him.

As he settled back down, he noticed his seatmate peering over his notes. The man looked pale— almost unnervingly so— with dual-toned yellow and black hair that stuck up haphazardly. Most of it was tied into a loose ponytail, though a few strands jutted out wildly, as if styling his hair had been an afterthought. His rumpled appearance suggested he had rolled out of bed moments before class. But then again, it was a seven a.m. lecture— who had the energy to care about appearances at this hour? 

His disheveled appearance together with that air of disinterest made him stand out even in a room full of groggy students. Ford doubted he was taking the lecture seriously; the guy didn’t even have a bag. Did he even have his own notes?

“You’ve already looked into Chi-squares? That’s pretty advanced,” the blond said casually, breaking Ford’s train of thought.

Stanford nearly brushed him off, burying himself back in his notes, but the man spoke again before he could.

“By the way, the significance value is represented by the Greek letter alpha, not ‘a.’ You might mix that up later.”

Ford froze, his pen hovering mid-air. Embarrassment surged through him as he realized the blond was right. It was a small distinction but an important one. Flipping through his notes, he realized he’d been making the same mistake for weeks. How had he missed that?

“R-right. Thanks,” he muttered, his voice tinged with awkwardness.

The blond grinned.

“You’re Stanford, right? I’m Bill. What’s your course?”

Stanford hesitated. Talking during lectures wasn’t something he was accustomed to, but Bill’s question was quiet enough not to disrupt anyone.

“Cell and molecular biology,” he replied. “You?” “Software engineering,” Bill said with a shrug. “Didn’t peg you for a science student, though.”

Ford quirked a brow. What a peculiar thing to say.

“Really? Why not?”

Bill gestured lazily toward Ford’s yellow tie and overall appearance.

“I dunno. You look too good for a science student. I thought you were doing law.”

That earned a soft chuckle from Ford, though he couldn’t tell if the comment was a compliment or a dig. Bill seemed amused by his reaction, yawning and stretching in his seat. The blond’s laid-back demeanor stood in stark contrast to Ford’s intensity, and for the first time, Stanford wondered if he might have been too quick to judge.

“You’re pretty intense, you know,” Bill added, smirking. “Seriously, hit the library after this. Those desks aren’t the most comfortable, but they’re cold and quiet. Great for catching up on sleep.”

Ford frowned. He knew his screwed up sleep cycle wasn’t doing him any favors, but he didn’t think it was that evident.

“Do I really look that sleep-deprived?”

Bill laughed, low and tired.

“Oh, absolutely.”

Stanford wasn’t sure whether to feel offended or amused, but the conversation flowed surprisingly well from there. The lecture faded into background noise as the two continued their quiet back-and-forth. By the time the class ended, Ford was almost startled to realize how much time had passed. He’d barely touched his notes, yet he didn’t mind. It wasn’t often he enjoyed such casual conversation.

When the bell rang, he packed his things slowly, stealing glances at Bill as the blond stretched languidly. They’d likely see each other again— statistics was a general course after all, open to students across disciplines.

“I, uh… if you don’t mind, could we exchange contact info? I enjoyed talking to you.” He blurted out, surprising even himself.

Bill shot him a lopsided smile.

“Sure thing, Fordsy. What socials do you use?”

Ford blinked at the nickname, unsure whether he liked or hated it. But as he left the lecture hall with Bill’s contact information saved in his phone, he found himself oddly optimistic. For once, a morning class hadn’t been completely intolerable.

Not when he came walking out of it with a new friend.

Featuring two of the four idiots from @gfthe-fearsome-foursome! This fic can be found on Ao3 as well here!

[creepst-crypt]

*sob*

Og^^

[1spooky2me]

(TW: violence and blood)

Not good enough….

*Pork Soda by Glass Animals playin in the distance*

Part 1

PART 2

PART 3

PART 4

PART 5

PART 6

PART 7

TRAGEDY

DREAM OR NIGHTMARE

PART 8

[squidflavoredsoup]

i think we’re chill we talked for a bit

he let me get close to take this pic! :)