#great time to maybe look into ciphers

[ckret2]

Chapter 73 of human Bill Cipher still being stuck in the Mystery Shack but currently fearing back pain more than execution: it's Day 1 of Bill being off death row, let's see what everyone other than Soos is doing with their day.

When Fiddleford answered the door to Ford and Stan—Stan with the Quantum Destabilizer's case slung over his shoulder—the first thing Fiddleford said was, "That demon's still alive, isn't he?"

"Demon's still alive," Stan confirmed.

Ford let out a long sigh. "I was afraid we'd have to break the news."

"I figured when the power here flickered during your shot." He planted his hands on his hips. "You didn't use the NowUSeeitNowUDontium, did you?"

Ford shook his head.

"Well?" Fiddleford fixed Ford with an angry squint, lips pursed. (Maybe it wasn't an angry squint, Ford told himself hopefully. Maybe it was just because Fiddleford didn't have new glasses yet.) "Why didn'cha shoot him?"

"I couldn't. He escaped," Ford said. As panic began to bloom on Fiddleford's face, Ford quickly added, "But he's back! That's why I used the wrong fuel. Somehow he overheard that we'd made enough Dontium for one shot, and he—tried to persuade me to cover his escape. Firing a blank made him think I'd used the Dontium up and he was safe—"

"—So's he'd come back and you could get a proper shot at him! Ha!" Fiddleford jumped up, kicking his heels in the air, hollering, "Stanford Pines, you clever sonovagun!" His hooting and hollering died down as he realized, "So... why're you here with the destabilizer instead of shooting him?"

Ford and Stan exchanged a glance. Stan said, "Well—He—He's pretty harmless right now, really—And he's great with the kids—"

"Not with Dipper," Ford muttered.

"He's great with one of the kids."

Ford said, "And he's..." It would be a lie to say improving, wouldn't it? "He's... got the potential to improve. And we— We thought— If there's a chance he could do better..."

Sternly, Fiddleford said, "You let him get into your head again, didn't you."

Ford sighed. "I let him get into my head."

Stan held out the Quantum Destabilizer's case. "Which is why we're here. He's not in your head. You won't hesitate to pull the trigger."

"I getcha." Fiddleford accepted the case grimly. "You need me to finish the job."

Ford hastily added, "If—if it becomes necessary."

Fiddleford gave him a hard look.

Ford swallowed as he realized—as always, a moment too late—just what an enormous thing he was asking of Fiddleford and his fragile nerves. "But if you don't think— I mean, if you'd rather it stay in our hands—"

Fiddleford held the Quantum Destabilizer away from Ford. "No, no—you're right. It's safer here," he said. "You oughta shoot him. I'm never not gonna think you oughta shoot him. Especially now we know he knows how to escape. But, if you won't—better that this is in my hands than with the fellers what let that devil sucker 'em into thinking he deserves to live."

Ford wanted to say I'm sorry. If he was so sorry, why had he chosen to let Bill live? It seemed like his problems always became Fiddleford's problems—yet the only times Fiddleford's problems became Ford's was when Ford caused them. "Well—the good news is, even if he does escape, he can't get far. He's trapped inside Gravity Falls' weirdness barrier."

"Well, that's somethin'," Fiddleford muttered. Then he frowned and gave Ford a sharp look. "Wait," he said slowly. "Are you sure he can't get out?"

"I—" Ford tried to remember when they'd learned that. "Sure, we—found out that first night, didn't we?" It had been a very long night.

"Yeah!" Stan laughed. "Almost accidentally killed the guy by driving him into it."

Fiddleford nodded, his expression faraway and thoughtful. "I need to run some calculations," he said. "I'll let you know what I find."

He turned away, muttering to himself. Just before he shut the door, Ford saw Tate at the far end of the great hall, arms crossed, watching the proceedings sourly.

And then the door was shut without so much as a goodbye.

"Huh," Stan said. "Ominous!" He clapped Ford on the shoulder. "Welp, let's get home!"

####

Tate leaned into Fiddleford's lab. "Dad?"

Fiddleford was sitting at a space he'd cleared at a worktable, hunched forward and squinting to see his work as he ran through a towering stack of calculations, using a calculator to double-check his math and a second calculator to double-check the first one. As he often did, he'd put on an old record to help block out distractions; and an old country song was blasting at top volume as Fiddleford sang/yodeled along: "I haaate Bill Cipher more'n I looove my son! How I looong to shoot that sonuuuvaguuun. I'll seeee my boy when that triaaangle's done—cuz I haaate Bill Cipher more'n I looove my son—"

"Dad," Tate said louder.

"Tater!" Fiddleford sat up, automatically reached to adjust a pair of glasses he wasn't wearing, and just bumped the bridge of his nose. "What is it, son?"

"Couldja turn the volume down?"

"Turn th—?" Fiddleford looked at his record player, started when he realized what was playing, and quickly took the needle off the record. "Sorry, Tater, I—"

"It's fine," Tate said glumly.

"Didn't even realize which song'd come on. They're just words to sing along to. You know I don't really feel..."

"Just don't like Pluckin' Jim's yodeling style, that's all."

Fiddleford dropped his gaze. "All right, that's fine. I'll keep it down."

Tate stuck his hands in his pockets. "Might oughta be careful with that album, anyway. If any guests overhear it talking about the triangle and call the police..."

"Oh, I know, I know. You're right, I'll be careful. It's just..." He reached under his hat to scratch at his head like he was trying to massage his brain into working. "When it feels like the whole darn world's gone crazy, it's comforting hearin' somebody sing something sensible," he said. "I—I don't mean Jim's attitude toward his family. Just the rest of it."

"Mm." Tate nodded.

Fiddleford sighed and shook his head sadly. "I don't know—maybe I'm the one who's going crazy."

"Naw," Tate said immediately. "You're not. You're the sanest I've seen you since I was a kid, dad."

"Well—thank you, Tater. That means a lot."

"You're just stressed, that's all." Tate nodded toward Fiddleford's stack of calculations. "Don't overwork yourself, all right?"

"I won't, I promise."

"If you need help with all that math..."

"No, no, that's all right." Fiddleford waved off the offer. "It's got to do with Stanford's weirdness thingamajig." For the past few months, Fiddleford and Stanford had been working on a paper about the Law of Weirdness Magnetism—although that had seemingly ground to a stop at the start of summer.

Tate paused. "Okay, but I'm dragging you out of there for meals."

"Heh! I won't fight you."

As Tate left, Fiddleford set the needle back on the record, starting the next song: "The Three B's Poisoning Your Children (Booze, Bebop, and Bill)." Tate shut the door and let out a long sigh.

####

"I'll get it!" Dipper doubted anyone else could even hear the phone; Abuelita was asleep in the living room, Soos was upstairs hammering on something, and Bill and Mabel were at the far end of the house playing the piano and singing.

Dipper jogged into the office. "Hello?"

"Dipper!" Wendy said. "Dude! Just the man I wanted to reach."

"Wendy, hey! What's up?"

"Are you still looking for the Nightwigglers?"

"Yes! Why, did something happen?"

A couple weeks earlier, Wendy had shown him where her brother had seen the Fremont Nightwigglers; but by the time she showed him the path, they'd already come and gone a couple nights earlier. They'd found footprints and followed them to what looked like a campsite—there were odd empty burrows in the ground and traces of ashes—but when Dipper had tried to figure out where they'd gone after leaving the campsite, he'd lost their trail in the underbrush.

"Gus says he saw them on the same trail again last night," Wendy said. "Which means, if they were going back to that place we found with the burrows, and it was a campsite—"

"—then that's where they're camping today. So they'll still be there tonight!" Dipper laughed. "That's perfect! I can stake them out and watch when they wake up! Hey, do you wanna come along for a stakeout?"

Wendy groaned. "I wish. Gus freaked my dad out talking about the Nightwigglers. He says we have to stay home after dark and he's actually been checking our rooms."

"Aw, man. That stinks."

"But hey, tell me all about it at work, okay?"

"You got it! Oh—I could make a Guide to the Unexplained episode! I'll show you the whole thing."

"Oh, awesome. I can't wait to see these things," Wendy said. "Head's up, you probably wanna be quiet to avoid spooking them. Gus said they looked super skittish last night. They're probably wigging out because of gravity disappearing for a couple of days, lots of other wild animals are. I don't blame them, I'm still wondering what was up with that."

"Giant invisible flying axolotl from another dimension."

Wendy laughed in surprise. "Are you serious?"

"Yeah! I'll tell you about it at work too." Probably leaving out Bill's involvement. Speaking of Bill, where had he left Dipper's backpack? "I've gotta pack for the stakeout. Thanks for the tip!"

####

Gideon knocked on the shack's back door and waited anxiously, tugging at his sleeves and shifting from foot to foot.

The door opened to the sound of distant piano music. Dipper stood there holding a heavy backpack and a box of granola bars. "Gideon?" He didn't sound thrilled.

"Well, hey there, Dipper!" Gideon tried to sound more chipper than he felt. "I don't suppose Mabel's ar—"

"Nope," Dipper said. "What do you want?"

Gideon took a deep breath. "It's about Bill—"

"Shhh!" Dipper cast a nervous glance back toward Soos's grandma asleep in the living room. "Keep it down. Only Mabel and I know you know about Bill and no one else can find out."

"Why not?"

"Because... Mabel and I will get in trouble for not telling them sooner?"

Fair enough. Adults didn't need to know everything, Gideon thought. Voice lower, he said, "I didn't notice him with the others at Rainbow Club this week, and I saw that big laser thingamabob at the shack,"—and the next day received a panicked call from a cultist who couldn't reach Bill—"and... well—I need to know if Bill's dead, or—"

Over the piano playing, an off-key voice sang at top volume: "AND IIIIIIIIII will never HATE yooOoOOou—!" In the living room, Abuelita started from her nap, blinked sleepily, turned up the volume on the TV, and fell back asleep.

Gideon's shoulders sank in disappointment.

"Still alive," Dipper said. "He has a really bad backache, though."

"Well, dang it!" Gideon kicked at a twig on the porch. It didn't move.

"Yeah, I know," Dipper said. "But... I kinda think Bill has to stay alive? I heard this prophecy that I think is about Bill saving everyone? Probably not voluntarily—he actually really didn't want me to hear about the prophecy—so... yeah, we might just be stuck with him. At least for a while."

"Well," Gideon said sourly. "Isn't that just wonderful."

####

As he trudged home, Gideon tried to think of a way out of this. For one day, he'd thought he was blessedly free of Bill; finding out he was wrong felt like getting hauled back to prison.

If the adults didn't know he knew about Bill, maybe he could tell the Stans that Bill had been using him—surely they'd forgive Gideon for using a little dream magic to brainwash the town, right? Stan understood the lengths a businessman had to go to to advertise his business, and Ford was apparently the one who'd recorded the spell in the first place—and maybe the two of them could prevent Bill from spilling his blackmail to the rest of the town; or maybe Gideon could arrange for the Stans to "accidentally" find out Gideon had been working for Bill, and then Bill couldn't blame Gideon for spilling the beans...

Or maybe he could just stop helping Bill. Simple as that. He knew he'd been helping Bill arrange escape plans. Bill had promised he'd keep quiet about Gideon's crimes as long as Gideon didn't pick up dream magic again; but he'd never required Gideon to help him. The only issue was what his contact in Bill's cult might do and whether she might out him as one of Bill's allies; maybe he could just tell her that his parents were getting suspicious and he couldn't be a go-between anymore...

When he got home, as soon as he opened the front door he could hear his father excitedly talking in the kitchen: "It's the darnedest thing! I don't know where they came from—must be tourists, I suppose..."

Gideon followed his voice into the kitchen. "Daddy? What's all this fuss?"

Bud was grinning from ear to ear; even Joy was faintly smiling, a half-washed dish forgotten in her yellow-gloved hands. "There you are," Bud said. "Son, I've got the most terrific news! I just sold the three most expensive cars on the lot, all on the same day! Can you believe that?!"

"Well, hot dog!" Gideon grinned as well, relief washing over him. "That oughta keep us going for a while, shouldn't it?"

"It sure will! I guess you were right—we never needed any magic hocus-pocus, just good salesmanship!" Bud beamed. "But it's just the darnedest thing," he said again, "they all said they'd been referred to the dealership by a Mr. Locke."

Gideon's smile froze and his stomach flipped.

"I don't remember any Mr. Locke passing through town."

"Oh," Joy said, "there was one a—a week or two ago. Some sort of talent agent, I think? He came to see Gideon."

"Did he," Bud said, clearly a bit deflated that it wasn't his prowess as a salesman that had lured these customers to town; but he quickly recovered, "Why, that's wonderful! Maybe looking to line up another television appearance?"

"No no no," Gideon said quickly, "no, it was—it was purely a social visit. I-I knew him last summer. I'm not doing that sort of... television thing anymore."

"Ah, well. Still! Having connections pays off," Bud said. "If all he wants to do is send customers our way, I'll be mighty happy! If he comes by again, invite him to stay for dinner, it's the least we can offer him as thanks."

"I think that's a—a wonderful idea," Joy said, voice even softer than usual. "He was very friendly."

"Son?" Bud called. "Where you headed?"

"Just upstairs, I remembered I need to make a call," Gideon said. He had to ensure Sue knew Bill was alive.

Seemed like he'd be working with her and Bill for a while yet. His family couldn't afford for him not to.

####

Dipper pounced the Stans the moment they entered the shack. "Hey! Great Uncle Ford!" 

"Dipper? What—"

"Grunkle Ford, remember you promised that as soon as we weren't dealing with any Bill bull, we could go on an investigation—?"

"Hey," Stan said sternly, "any Bill what?"

"Bull... soup?" Dipper tried.

Stan nodded, satisfied. "That's right. And if your parents ask, that's exactly what you think it means." At Ford's look of amazement, Stan said, "What! Last year the kids' parents said if they came home swearing, I couldn't take 'em over the summer again."

Dipper resumed his attack: "Well, we're not dealing with any Bill bullsoup today! Come help me track the Nightwigglers!" He held up his journal, proudly showing off his unfinished spread. "Wendy told me where they're camping today! If we're there before they wake up, we can finally see them in person!"

"Really? Tonight?" Ford asked. "We just had a late night yesterday."

"Can't we have two late nights and sleep in tomorrow?" Dipper pled. "They might not be there tomorrow night! What's more important: sleep, or seeing the Nightwigglers?"

"Yes, I see your point. You're absolutely right," Ford said. "I could take a nap now and we can leave after dinner."

"Yes!"

Stan groaned, "Great—the insomniacs are enabling each other." He shook his head and started upstairs, muttering, "I'm gonna see what Soos is hammering on."

Dipper said, "I've already packed my camping supplies! Do you need help packing? I can help you pack! Come on—I can show you where we're going, too!" He impatiently led the way to the elevator.

####

This weekend, Bill had escaped the shack, faked his death, and proven that the whole Pines family actually wanted him alive; and yet, for all that, Mabel thought he seemed pretty down in the dumps today. He'd been kind of off since the eclipse.

Actually, now that she thought about it, he'd been off since before the eclipse, ever since the day he'd been grumpy to her about the glass pyramid "Mysteries." She was pretty sure he wasn't mad at her about that anymore; so she didn't know what was wrong.

But even though Mabel could see him wince when he leaned certain ways or moved his arms too quickly, he was trying to hide that he was in pain and he was trying to hide his gloomy mood. He grinned when he played the piano, and he alternated between popular songs that she knew and could sing along with and a bunch of old boring things like jazz and opera. (Bill tried to sing along to everything, even when he shouldn't. Mabel was pretty sure he was the worst opera soprano in the world.)

She didn't know how to fix whatever was actually bothering him. She could hang out with him and sing and talk—that seemed to make him happier. But Bill needed more than that.

He needed more friends.

Bill attempted a run, one hand crossing over the other and back as he rolled up the keyboard; his hands tripped over each other and stumbled across several keys at once.

Mabel laughed. "That sounded like a musical fart!"

Bill blew a raspberry. "I'll show you a musical fart." He attempted the run again, and messed up again.

Mabel laughed again. "I don't think you've got that part."

"Hey! I'm usually great at that part. It's this body—I'm used to playing it with flat fingers, I haven't practiced it with an extra dimension before," said Bill, who was lying, and had never been good at that part, and truthfully was pleased he now had an excuse that let him pretend he was actually better than he was. "Playing piano in a human body really holds me back. It takes nine hands to play my favorite song." That wasn't a lie.

He started the song over and elbowed Mabel. "Hey. Something's eating at you. What's up, kid?"

She hadn't realized she wasn't hiding her gloomy thoughts well enough. "Uuugh, I want you to meet my friends, but this morning Grunkle Ford said I still can't invite them over even though you're off death row. I guess he and Grunkle Stan are still worried you'll brainwash them or something?"

"Pff. We're still—renegotiating the terms of my imprisonment."

"Oh yeah? What have you renegotiated so far?"

The corners of Bill's mouth turned down. Mabel suspected that might have something to do with his foul mood. "Hey, I've got an idea to get your friends over here."

"Yeah?"

"Tell your uncles that the girls' parents are starting to wonder why you haven't been inviting them over like you did last summer. Say they're beginning to think that something is going on over here, and they're worried you're not in a safe environment—buuut if their kids can come over and see everyone's just been adjusting to a new guest, maaaybe their parents will calm down, right?"

Mabel shot Bill a dirty look. "Bill! That's a complete lie."

"But it's the kind of lie that could easily be true, and might even be true in the future, so is it really a lie?"

"Yeah it is."

"No it's not! Besides, it'll get your friends over here and it won't hurt anything, won't it?"

Mabel grimaced. "Okay, I can try—but if I try it and it works and I bring my friends over, you've got to make friends with them."

"Hmm!" Bill's face twisted up. "I like Candy's taste in art. And her bloodthirst."

Mabel elbowed him. "What do you have against Grenda?"

####

Eight-year-old Grenda sat at her desk kicking her feet and staring at her $1 bill, waiting for the bell to ring for lunch. It was Chocolate Chip Cookie Monday, they were fresh and gooey, and she was ready.

For the first time, she noticed the design on the dollar had a weird little one-eyed triangle with a hat. She pulled out a marker and drew a little smile under his eye.

And then she added buck teeth to the smile.

And then she gave him a second eye, stupid glasses, and a spiky beard that poked out in every direction.

And then drew wavy stink lines over him and added a word bubble that said "I'M SMELLY!"

"Heh. Stupid looking guy," she mumbled.

####

With an air of haughty disdain, Bill said, "She knows what she did."

"Okay, but you'll be nice to her, right? Pleeease?"

"All right, fine," Bill said. "For you, I'll be nice."

####

"Grunkle Stannn can my friends please come over? Even their parents think it's weird that they haven't been here all summer! If Grenda and Candy come over they'll know nothing weird's going on!"

"Uhhh..." Stan grimaced. "The last thing we need is parents asking questions... Yeah, sure, you should probably do that sometime soon. Maybe after we figure out what we're doing with Bill for the rest of the summer—"

"Thanks!" Mabel hugged him, ran off, and decided she'd heard Stan say "yeah, sure, you should."

She pulled out her phone. "Candy! Grenda!" She kept her voice at a loud whisper. "Great news! Dipper's gonna be out with Grunkle Ford tonight and I kinda-sorta got permission for a sleepover! Get ready for a party. I have a plan."

####

(This is a bit of a transition chapter for a couple more plots, but I hope y'all enjoyed! Let me know what you think!)

[bitter-me]

Hello, if requests are open, can I ask [any twst characters you want] with a Bill or Dipper!Male!Reader ?

Have a great day ! And a good night !

The All Seeing Eye

Malleus Draconia | M. Reader as Bill Cipher

----------

"Remember! Reality's an illusion, the universe is a hologram, buy gold! Byeeee!"

----------

Malleus Draconia..

Quite the infamous name.

At this point, who doesn't know about the crown prince? He's one of the most powerful mages in the world! Despite that...

...just who in Twisted Wonderland hasn't heard of [Name] Cipher? The dream demon? Well apparently both Yuu and Grim doesn't... "Oh! Oh! Twisted Wonderland! it is good to be back! Name's [Name] Cipher and I take it two are some kind of living ventriloquist dummy?" He ask with a mix of sarcasm and amusement in his voice. Wait--no! He has to show some kindness to them. They're the ones who freed him after all. So maybe he should be kinder. Maybe.. "How about this you magicless thing, I will help you.. in exchange.. I only want a puppet! Yes! A puppet! You have one of those right?" This kid is magicless! He's completely defenseless against this world's wildness and chaos! But don't worry! He's here to help! Isn't he so kind~?

----------

Some students began to notice how Yuu seem to act differently sometimes.. it's odd.. suddenly he's capable of magic..? And these.. creepy knowledge?? What? When some ask about it, Yuu merely shrugged, dodging the question or straight up ignored them and Grim? That cat is as clueless as ever! For someone that's suppose to be close with the prefect, he's completely useless with this predicament.

Of course, Yuu's strange demeanor ended up catching the attention of none other than Diasomnia's Housewarden.

"Child of Man, it has come to my attention that you've been acting.. strange.. lately.. may I know the reason for such actions?"

"Oh! It's nothing really! I'm completely fine, there's nothing to be worry about!" Huh.. the prefect's reassurance sounded a bit cheery.. maybe too cheery... is he always like this? And this.. energy.. it's strong.. incredibly so..

Not at all convinced, Malleus spoke up with caution, preparing himself for what's to come. "Is that so? Then may I know why you're acting strangely?"

"I said I'm fine--" Yuu stopped himself once he saw who it was that decided to confront him this time. Oh.. oh! He had thought it was just some no name snotnosed kid! But no, oh no.. this is the main course! Finally he had finished the appetizers! A wide grin made its way onto his face as he spoke up in a cheery manner. "Well well well! Finally! The main course has arrive! How's living, my dear dragon?"

Malleus' calm demeanor change in an instant the moment those words came out of Yuu's mouth. This.. thing.. how dare he.. how dare it decided to lay a hand on the prefect!? And now it has the audacity to use his body like a puppet!? Unforgivable...

"You..."

"Aw, I thought you would be more happy to see me!"

Malleus scoffs at the dream demon's words, crossing his arms over his chest as he sent a glare towards him. Happy? What's there to be happy about?

"Admit it~ You missed me~"

[Name] knew full well that Malleus won't lift a finger at him, not when he's possessing his precious Child of Man.. of course he won't.. the very thought of injuring this fragile body must scare him to the bone! Poor baby...

The dream demon can't help but chuckle at the very thought of it. The other's glare mean nothing to him. What matters most is...

"What's with that look for? Come on now.. I still remember how happy you look back then~"

The look of wonder that the crown prince showed.. it was such magnificent a sight.. but not enough to coax [Name] to rethink his decision in deceiving him. This world will be his.

"Come on, my dear.. let me out.. out of this dimension of mine and into yours.."

"Allow me to show you just what true power actually is."

"Let me in."

"And welcome Weirdmageddon with open arms."

[grimoirguestbook]

Book of Bill Website Codes

(Organized by category with notes)

Here's my list of inputs that work on the website :)

Hopefully the read more works like I think it does and I don't accidentally spoil anybody

That being said by clicking read more you will see All of the codes I have found so far

Please be mindful and try not to spoil anybody else with this information. So please be careful if reblogging

I got everything I have collected/found on here, it's a bit messy right now but After I take a small break I'll reorganize and add notes but for now everything's on here, please so check out the posts linked in the log as once I lost all leads I looked to their post for other inputs :)

Also feel free to put any you know of that Aren't on here in the replies I'm sure there's some missing

I will be updating as I find more so check back in if you can! :)

Thank you!

They'll be categorized by

Neat Tv text- Nothing special the tv just gets some text to it

Tab pages-brings you to another tab/website

Audio/video- Audio/video clip plays

Readables- A picture will pop up on screen that you can read

Printables- You can print them :D!

Other- Hard to categorize

Note:

If an * is next to a name that means that you can get different results for the same prompt

(Any personal notes will be in parenthesis)

-> An arrow means that the Passwords are found in the previous page

ex- Page with code that translates to "dork"-> Dork

Slashes/mean/that/any/of/the/prompts/listed/will/take/you/to/the/same/page

Blue text with an underline is a link! Haha! would you look at that! it works!

Will Keep this updated as I find more and will Note the logs at the end of this post

?????

For the mason page anagrams I know WHO they are I just don't know WHAT to do with them, i know it says cryptogram codex at the bottom i think i have to do something with the anagram results but I'm unsure what that is. Stanford Pines Stanlie Pines Gideon Charles Gleeful Preston Northwest Pacifica Elisa Northwest

Notes to Dipper Prompt: (Unsure why- Maybe going to Blind eye page and blurring it but changes from dipper being told to stare at the sun to "I THINK ITS WORKING! STARE HARDER! HARDER!" and the page looking burnt I Think it has to do with how many input codes you enter, It now says "you've almost solved it" and is even more burnt than before, it is now full black)

Neat Tv text-

Pines

Blendin

*Triangle

Axolotl

Ducktective

Book of Bill

TJ Eckleburg (Great Gatsby)

Nothing

Something

*Ciphertology

Deer Teeth

Scalene

Scrimbles

No

Fortnite/skibidi/ohio/rizz/crypto/elon/gyatt/Doge

Life

Death

Portal

Question

Answer

Euclid

*Well Well Well Being

Reality

The Universe

Journal 1

Journal 2

Journal 3

Theyll see/They'll all see/I see

Filbrick

Disney/Disneyland/Mickey Mouse

CIA/FBI/NSA

333 Sundapple Lane Cozy Creek IL 60714-94611

Season 3

Season 2

Season 1

Caryn

Euclydia

Skeleton

Who are you

Burnside

Family matters

When will I die

Multilevel mark/caesaratbashvigenere

Scientology

Easter egg

Sevral times

oh yes they both

Am i Blanchin

Bye gold

Youre insane

History

Hologram

Scalene

Euclid

Titans Blood -> Owl Trowel

Text Chain (You get questions who's answer is another password)

Riddle->Yes -> Mountain Dont -> Lyre Liar -> Harolds Ramblings -> Union Made -> 29121239168518 -> Grebley Hemberdreck -> Rat -> 3466554 -> Tinsel Snake -> Torture Mentally -> Xgqrthx -> 333 sundapple lane cozy creek IL 60714-94611-> MutliLevel mark->emmaline butternubbins->Dispense my treat

What i thought it was (with answer sources):

Riddle->Yes -> Mountain Dont -> Lyre Liar -> Harolds Ramblings -> Union Made -> 29121239168518 -> Grebley Hemberdreck -> Rat -> 3466554 -> Tinsel Snake -> Torture Mentally -> Xgqrthx -> Titans Blood -> Owl Trowel

Answers found in TBOB- Don't Know, NA, Mcguckets dream page, Medieval page, Anti-Cipher Section- tonic page, Anti Cipher Section- Newspaper, Top Secret page, Textbook page- Skin, Dark Ages Page, Anti Cipher Section-Epilogue, A winter break- footprints page, Book of Bill Cover options page, Never trust a wizard page, Have you dreamed this fellow ad (references informercial in show)

Tab pages-

Abuelita

Dippy Fresh

Alex Hirsch/Alex/Hirsch

*Stan/Stanley (his outfit in ebay searches plus a READABLE with SICK music mind you-Check readable section for more info)

Grunkle Stan

*Gideon (second option unlocked after fully "mableizing" the room)

Waddles

Mcgucket/ Old man McGucket/Fiddleford

Bill/Cipher/LLIB/LLIBREHPIC

Bill Cipher/Rehpic

Zyler (Goes to same place as Craz)

Craz (Goes to same place as Zyler)

Toby Determined

Gravity Falls

Mystery Shack

Not a phase

Blanchin

Peak

Cray Cray

Fixinit1

Meow

Fuck alex/Fuck you alex

Globnar

Monster

Audio/video-

Babba/Discogirl

*Gideon (unlocked after fully "mabelizing" the room)

Tad Strange

Pinata (DEFINATELY WORTH WATCHING)

Vallis Cineris (Found on wall when lightning strikes)

Hey Nerd

Weird (Love him)

Spookemups/Spooky/Scary

That's just a/Theory/Gametheory/Matpat (<3)

One Eyed King-> Naitsuaf (Morse Code) ( early years page)

Forget the past

Im still on your mind

Dorito/Nacho

Just fit in

Rubberhose

Love/Boyfriend

Hectoring

Conspiracy

God/Frillium/Help me

Burned inside

Kook

Kubrick

Small/audio log/music (nothing showed up at first, turned off tv and strange audio played, needs to be reversed)

L is real 2401 (soos my boy)

Readables-

Mason (Dippers real name)

*Dipper (personal notes in ???- keep opening the card to get different results)

Pacifica-> PlatinumPaz

Ford/Standford/Sixer

Wendy

Robbie (def worth a look IMO)

Soos-> Pinata

Cursed (Translated from candle in background)

Ad Astra Per Aspera

Blind Eye->Theyll see (Will blur if clicked on, cannot un-blur, may change dipper?)

Weirdmageddon

Lies

Sorry

Booberry (Decoded from popsicle stick)

Even his lies are lies (Front paper)

Tantrum ( code on Bills Mugshot page)

Suck it Merlin

Shave your Grandma (leads to dippy fresh page)

Baby Bill/baby/lalalalala/daddy/mommy

Owl Trowel

Hotxolotl->Seven eyes-> r34lity

Love ya bro

Fuck/Shit/Fuckyou/bitch/slut/sex

Baaaa-> Black Sheep

naitsuaf (click are you ready-> Sign "pleasure doing business with you -candle light turns blue- OR be a coward (losing sound effect plays)

oroborous-> Frillium

Glass sand beach

math/trigonometry/

horror/creepypasta

destruction is a form of creation

unreality

you can't kill an idea

virus

Occurremusiterum

*Stan (click multiple times to get-once there click "how he beat me several times)

Card

Theraprism

Dionarap->stod eht tcennoc

Printables-

Tyrone/Clone/Paperjam

Curse Wittebane (translates runes on page about witches)

Paper is just book skin ( BE WARNED: automatically downloads a photoshop file and crashses the cite)

Irregular (has code on it)

Divorce/breakup

Other-

Mabel (You get fun stickers and a popping sound :) )

*Giffany ( You put her name in multiple times and it forcibly downloads pictures of her and a text document to your computer, scared me a little Not gonna lie here)

Kings of New Jersey (downloads "secret code" font)

cryptogram codex (downloads cryptogram fonts)

dispense my treat-> Kook (downloads a bunch of cool wallpapers)

Log:

One hour after posting: Added 17 new words

Found by me: Booberry, Mountain Dont, Xgqrthx, titans blood, lyre liar, haralds ramblings, union made

Accidentally found by looking at a post: Sorry

Gifted by replier (Thank you!): MATPAT, yes, no, Fortnite, life, death, portal, question, answer

30 minutes after last update: 9 Words added

Found by me: Theraprism, 29121239168518, Grebley Hemberdreck, Rat, 3466554, Tinsel Snake, Torture Mentally, Fordtramarine, Gun (shocked that worked It was a joke- "bill cipher has A GUN")

Like THREEEEEEE ish hours later?

Found by me: one eyed king, well well well being, shave your grandma, paper is just book skin, even his lies are lies, forget the past, irregular, euclid, tantrum, suck it merlin

Like 12 hours later

Found by me: Reality, Baby Bill, Reality, The universe, Giffany (why is it two Fs, Blarg) They'll see, I'm still on your mind, Journal 1, Journal 2, Journal 3

Gifted to me by a replier (Thank you!): Owl Trowel

Idk- Later

Found by me: hotxolotl, lova ya bro, kings of new jersey, fuck, just fit in

Found on twitter(JasonRitter): Dorito, Blanchin'

Gifted to me by Replier(Thank you!): Gideon's option knowledge

Even MORE later:

Me: Seven eyes, r34ality, filbrick, disney, skibidy, rizz, ohio, love, cia, fbi, rubberhose, 333 sundapple lane cozy creek il 60714-94611, bahhhh, black sheep, naitsuaf, oroborous,theyll see, theyll all see Frillium, occuremusiterum (some of these i gave myself because i was really close but just missed a small detail/spelling)

Taken from here and Here Because I got stumped: Season 3, Season2 , Season 1, Glass shard beach, caryn, Euclydia, Peak, Theory, Cray Cray, Help me, mickey mouse, hectoring, divorce, breakup, skeleton, math, history, monster, gyatt, who are you, fixinit1, conspiracy, riddle, cryptogram codex, horror, creepypasta, trigonometry, god, boyfriend,baby, lalalalala, scary, trigonometry,just blendin, morality, burnside, family matters, when will i die, elon, multilevel mark, goodnight sally,paper jam, tourist trap,the duchess approves,shape, scientology, meow, nacho, crypto,sevral times,easter egg, oh yes they both, daddy, mommy, burned inside, destruction is a form of creation, i see, unreality, you can't kill an idea, am i blanchin, fuck alex, fuck you alex, fuck you, shit, bye gold, nsa, globnar,disneyland,kook, kuibrick,virus,that's just a, you're insane

Next day

Found online: Dionarap, stod eht tcennoc, dispense my treat

[spitdrunken]

man. still have NOT managed to get my hands on the book of bill because it's sold out literally everywhere over here, but have any of you seen the new 'how not to draw' vid on the disney youtube channel that features bill? it really got me thinking.

notes: fourth wall breaking, obsessive behaviour, unhealthy relationships, implied sexual content, implied mind control

it's heavily implied that the video takes place in a world where gravity falls is supposedly fictional, like our own. bill literally says he's going to break the fourth wall! because i'm a sucker for fourth wall breaks and characters being aware of their own fandom (to an extent), i simply just HAD to run with this scenario.

i just like the idea of 'you' being just a person, some totally, in the large scheme of things, insignificant human walking the earth. you have a tendency for escapism, perhaps. you have always been drawn to stories. you like gravity falls. maybe it was something you watched while you were younger and recently rewatched, or an interest that had never waned. regardless, bill cipher, charismatic and unapologetically evil villain that he is, is one of your favourites.

you doodle him on the edges of paper when you're supposed to be doing anything else. (regardless of anyone's artistic skills, it's not difficult to draw a triangle with a top hat and an eye, is it?) and in this world, you are hardly the only one who likes him, who, perhaps, ships himself with him, who thinks about him a lot. who makes drawings and writes or reads fic. you don't think it's all that unusual.

in a stroke of luck or, depending on how you look at it, the exact opposite, the universe's idea of a cosmic joke, you are the one to catch bill's eye. (it's, after all, much easier to infiltrate the dreams of someone who already has you on their mind. makes sense, doesn't it? a tentative, wavering link had been formed already.) there, in your dreams, he tells you what to say--triangulum, entangulum. meteforis dominus ventium. meteforis venetisarium--and the next morning, you remember it clear as a memory.

you do it. for funsies. why wouldn't you? you don't expect it to actually work. he's a fictional interdimensional demon. why would it work? but much to your surprise, and horror, because surely a screw must've gotten loose for this to be happening, one of your little doodles has life blown to it. as a response to your summon, a tiny little bill cipher darts across your paper, alive but still confined.

(you've given him an in. now, he only has to take the crack you've opened for him, dig his fingers in, and tear it open.)

oh, he'll be funny! he'll be exactly what you thought of him. perhaps he even voices a line of dialogue you swore you wrote down somewhere days prior. yes, he's read whatever you wrote or read, whatever you looked at. he's keeping it himself for now. it's not easy to inflate his ego further, but you might have succeeded. rather than a meatbag, bill first looks upon you with the eye of someone presented with a puppy. fundamentally lesser, but capable of being something with the right training.

he urges you to make a deal with him and the promise he'll act out whatever fantasy you've been cooking up in that brain of yours, even if it's gross and weird and physically impossible!

he'll warp your dimension to make all of it possible!!! it's great!!! don't worry about it!!!!!!

…you don't do it. you don't touch the paper. you've seen the show, and you aren't stupid. bill nearly balks. he'd expected you to be the easiest mark of all time, but he suppose he forgot that even puppies have teeth. that's fine. he can work with this. because even though you have not let him in yet, and you refuse to shake his hand through the paper, you don't seperate yourself from him just yet.

you could oh so easily take the piece of paper he's on and throw it in the nearest shredder. or set him on fire. in you, he recognises lingering curiosity, and the excitement at having stood out, at being chosen, in one way or another. it's not hopeless yet.

he can play a bit of a longer game, then. he's been at this for a long, long time. he'll tolerate the paper he's on being folded into a little square and tucked into your breast pocket, granting him a view of your life and the world you're living in. (all the time, his hunger grows.) your decision not to throw him away ends up being your downfall. spending so much time with bill, letting him joke around with you, complaining about your problems… it takes a while for you to realise that, for a while now, he has not been speaking out loud anymore, but instead through your mind.

a connection that cannot be cut has been formed in between two of you.

on bill's part, he had thorougly expected to be bored. but perhaps it's your genuine interest in him, not the things he's offering, which he does not often see. (he's been down this road before. won't end well. but...) the sheer mundanity of your life that makes him wish he could twist and turn it all around. or just a random alignment of the stars. the heart doesn't always follow logic. in this scenario, at some point, bill realises that he has become genuinely invested in you, too. and at that point, you'll never manage to slip away. he's already dug in his heels in your mind far enough. you had no adequate protection.

he still wants to take over your world. he still wants to escape the discomforting flatness of the paper you've summoned him in. but, perhaps, you two could share that meatsack of a body of yours, before things get that far.

[voidofthevoidmv]

Bill Cipher, except he genuinely CANT LIE.

Like, at all. Legitimately he is incapable of telling a lie.

Like sure, he can certainly dodge questions, or maybe create a loophole or two- But if you were to ask him a question directly with no way of avoiding it- HE HAS NO CHOICE BUT TO BE HONEST. And this fudges him over on multiple accounts.

And when he’s trying to dodge questions to avoid giving away his secrets or intentions- I want you to envision the scene from Shrek 3, where Pinocchio is being interrogated by Prince Charming concerning Shreks whereabouts- See here and he’s just RAMBLING-

Now, despite everything, this doesn’t change much. He still has flattery tactics and is careful with his worlds- Despite all his smarts Ford can still be blinded by his own hubris. So the whole portal thing goes down similarly to canon… Untill the portal incident happens.

With Ford stuck in the portal, Bill had no way of rebuilding it seeing that nobody would be willing… Aside from STANLEY PINES who is at a loss at what to do. The perfect willing assistant in rebuilding the portal. And bill wouldn’t have to lie that much cuz their goals really do aline somewhat… So, the demon tries to strike a deal…

This is when shit hits the fan for Bill.

And hey, let’s even go as far as to exaggerate the whole “Must return his half of the deal no matter what” portion of Bill’s deal making abilities. With this in mind, let’s take a look at EX CON STANLEY PINES who can sniff out a bad deal in no time- Due to his years of experience on the streets. And being the con artist that he is, Stanley being confronted by another con artist who can only tell the truth and also is confined to whatever deals they make… Well, this can only go well for him.

So Stanley tricks Bill- As he would in most dimensions if you get my gist. While Bill is offering unlimited knowledge in exchange for Stan’s compliance or something- Stan can easily twist Bills words against themselves and long story short- Bill is now trapped in Stanley’s debt and is confined to… Hmmm…

Let’s say he’s stuck constantly possessing a little magic 8 ball. And whoever shakes him, he’s forced to admit information to. A seriously bad deal on his part, an extremely great one on Stan’s part. So, Bill must help Stan get on with the portal without any sort of escape…

What’s even worse is that as time goes on, sometimes Stan even uses Bill as one of his ATTRACTIONS. (Honestly, Bill is lucky. Stan had been seconds away from binding the demon to a Zoltar machine-)

And time passes just as it would in canon, that is, untill the little pines twins come around to stay for the summer. And while I haven’t thought too hard about what the episodes looks like as I imagine it all doesn’t change too much- However. One thing that inspired this whole thing is how the kids are first introduced to bill- Something like:

Stan: Here kids- Meet Bill. This guy will answer all your pesky little questions.

Dipper: …Grunkle Stan, you named your magic 8 ball Bill?

Stan: Huh? Nah, he was called that when I first got him. Also Bill is just this all-knowing demon thing that I trapped inside of that ball in like… What was it- Was it- 85? Bah whatever-

Dipper: A demon…

Mable: *Eyes sparkling* Can I shake it???

Stan: *Tosses the ball casually* Sure knock yourself out kid.

Mable: Woahhhh…

Dipper: What is that thing… Is that… A triangle?

Stan: Welp. I’ll let you kids have at it- OH YEAH. He can’t lie so there’s that.

Or something like that. Haven’t worked out the kinks yet, but I think in this scenario Stan lets the kids mess around with Bill sometimes in hopes that the knowledge he possesses can help prevent the kids from like- Getting themselves in danger or something. And once the kids realize that they can just twist their words in order to make Bill slip and give helpful information- Well I can only imagine their shithead grins as Bill curses to the heavens. Dipper and Bill will banter a lot, with Bill obviously doing his best to break this pre-pubescent boys self esteem but it only assists in Dippers character development. Meanwhile, Bill and Mable can be lowkey chaotic and he could even respect her antics- If not for her whole “empathy and emotions” thing. (Perhaps a teensy bit of character development in places… But if Bill is a master of anything in any dimension, it is DENIAL-)

I think weirdmaggedon might still happen and there will be this whole rift thing and stuff- it’s still relatively similar. Maybe a different ending? Or another deal? Who knows. But this was just a silly thought I had- I can only imagine the names if I decide to invest time into it.

Magic 8 Bill AU? Or something? I might make some art for it if I’m being completely honest- Just a funny thought yk?

[bigfatbimbo]

helloooo surprise it’s the anon who requested Stanford hcs(and who also hates writing dom! male characters lol). Surprisingly, I’m here for Bill!

this is not so much a request as it is me just rambling and being curious about your thoughts, but what do you think of bill going into. . . subspace? is it even possible for him, would anything even be intense enough to get him so submerged into the moment like that? how would he even act? I wonder if he’d even enjoy it, since it could leave him feeling pretty out of control. . . maybe.

I’ll Give You Anything!

summary — subspace!Bill Cipher headcanons and drabbles

a/n — Hi anon! This is such a great question, and i’ve been itching to answer it. Also, feel free to mark yourself with an emoji next time!

⃤ The idea of Bill Cipher going into subspace intrigues me just as much, if not more, as the idea of him subbing in the first place. 

⃤ Let’s start off with the obvious: chances are, if he ever did, you wouldn’t remember.

⃤ To be in such a weak vulnerable state would most likely not be on purpose, so no matter how well you treat him, he’d probably always pluck the memory out of your head. 

⃤ As to whether the idea is even possible, that’s iffy. On one hand, human feelings are watered down sensations to him in the first place, although new and exciting, it’d take a lot to get him to even be a somewhat ‘mess.’ And even then he’d be fully conscious. 

⃤ On the other hand, a human sexual pleasure is probably a foreign and unexplored concept to him, honestly, as well as in his own body—not even sure it’s possible in his normal form—so it’s not crazy to say that certain sensations would have some sort of overwhelming pleasure. 

⃤ Although, even then it’s incredibly unlikely that he’d be submerged in such a deep euphoria, or let his guard down enough to even consider the idea. Even when you’re topping, he’s still a god and you’re not. 

⃤ I think this could change if the reader was a more powerful being. [i’ll elaborate if asked]

⃤ So let’s consider for a moment, what would Bill Cipher in subspace look like?

Mascara smudged from the beads of sweat dripping down his face, mouth stuck in a dreamy dazed smile. Still muttering something, as always, but just a tad whinier than usual, as breathy. 

How long has it been since he’s been taken care of? If he can just pluck the memory afterwards, then why not indulge. He’s earned it. Leaning back and fully whining for you, loudly wanting, no, needing more. 

He grabs for you absentmindedly, trying but failing to take note of the way you react. Surprise? No no.. he can barely tell now. Doesn’t matter as long as you keep doing what you’re doing to him. He thinks he cries something out, but he can’t hear.

New sensations, curiosity plagues him, as well as unsurmountable pleasure, and yet, self respect escapes him. It doesn’t matter now, if he’s still embarrassed after you’ve forgotten, he can always just showcase his power over you. Insurance. 

His mind fogs, and he becomes louder.

“I—i’ll give you anything, worlds, galaxies, the stars, just— ah— keep going!”

“Anything?” You purr.

He almost wishes you’d be able to remember him like this tomorrow. Almost.

[themsource]

Stan's Mind and Stress

Thinking about Stan and how seemingly skilled he is with the mindscape business, and how Ford doesn't appear to be what with a reliance on a metal plate and project mentem to encrypt and hide thoughts from Bill, when Stan easily did that just by focusing on a paddleball during the final episode

What if Stan has such great control and awareness in his mindscape because of all the studying he did on theoretical physics every single night for thirty years, barely getting any sleep with how driven he was and became a lucid dreamer because of it to help accomplish his goal? What if he grasped learning so much because he used his mindscape to practice?

Maybe this is why he’s probably grumpy so much, other than the bitter loneliness, dude hasn’t had a good deep dreamless sleep in literal years. He’s all wrinkly and worn out because he put his body through so much stress and never gave it time to actually relax and recover. He’s been working on that portal nonstop since the night of the incident, so much so he became a mind wizard. And he never even got to relax from the stressful life he was living in the ten years before that too.

Ford may have gotten 12 PHDS and a homicidal muse plus 30 years of survival training, but Stanley got mind powers that even shocked Bill Cipher, given how Cipher reacts to Dipper’s knowledge of how the mindscape works during their fight when he can’t fathom anyone besides himself having told the kid in the first place. A legit ‘who have you been talking to?! only I should know that!’

Poor Stan was under so much duress for so long, his mind—rather than breaking, chose to evolve, I swear. He disassociated right into X-men territory. Because what do a lot of people do when faced with things they can’t handle? Daydream and escape. I bet he spent the first few weeks cat napping a lot before the food ran out what with all the frustration and struggle to understand Ford’s science jargon he was going through. Perfect mind training and escapism time to practice how physics does and doesn’t work and the science behind it when looked through a comparative lens of the real world vs dreams.

Think it just goes to show how rough Stan’s had it oof... and how powerful his ability to adapt and cope is.

[millenianthemums]

chapter 3 of my fic is up! i actually posted it a week ago, but was too tired to finish the art until now… i might not actually be able to draw for every single chapter, but i still wanna try. we’ll see.

Previous chapter

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Chapter index

Mabel had become best friends with Tate McGucket’s new dog in under a week. She knew she would eventually, but still, that was record time. And with all the old friends she’d been tirelessly catching up with in her first few days back in Gravity Falls, she was both proud and preemptively exhausted to have added a new friend to the list already.

It helped that Scout Cottonball McGucket was the absolute sweetest puppy she’d ever met (a puppy that was taller than her on two legs was a puppy nonetheless). She was one of those huge fluffy white dogs– a Great Pyranese, Dipper had said– and her heart was just as soft and sweet and cuddly as the rest of her. Hence “Cottonball”, the unauthorized middle name Mabel had secretly given her. The plan was to get it to stick so well that by the time Tate found out about it, it would be impossible to get rid of it.

So when she cycled by the lake and saw Tate out in the rain that afternoon, and managed to wrangle out of him that Scout was missing , of course she was going to help look. Total no-brainer. Her search-and-rescue strategy of biking along the treeline at a snail pace while whistling and calling Scout’s name wasn’t exactly sophisticated, but before long she caught a lucky break. She started hearing a weird noise through the rain, a distant but piercing screech. At first she assumed it was a red fox or maybe a mountain lion screaming its head off somewhere in the woods, and tried to steer clear of it. But then a series of powerful barks joined it– Scout’s beautiful voice!-- and Mabel’s self-preservation fled. No way was some wailing overgrown house cat gonna hurt her new friend on her watch!

She swerved toward the noise, yelling for Scout, and soon a shape barrelled toward her out of the darkness. She was only terrified for a split second, but then she saw its wagging tail and leapt off her bike to give the dog a massive hug. Scout jumped and wagged and danced around joyfully as Mabel scrubbed her hands all through her thick coat. “You’re okay!” she cheered as Scout nuzzled her face. “We were all so worried, young lady… aww, I can’t stay mad at you! Maybe just– oof–” she shoved Scout’s massive paws off her shoulders and tried to wipe the muddy pawprints off her sweater before they soaked into the wool. “Maybe just settle down a little– whoa! Hey! Oh, you’re such a silly–”

“YOU.”

She recognized the voice right away. Part of her brain had never stopped hearing it. Her head turned toward it against her will, and standing there in the woods, staring her down, was exactly what she was most afraid to see.

Bill Cipher. The triangle guy who almost killed the entire world last time she’d been here. The monster who tricked her into helping him almost tear her family apart. The thing that had almost scared her into not coming back this year, into abandoning this place and the people she loved so much, out of fear that she’d somehow mess it all up again. The single worst thing that had ever happened to her. He was standing right in front of her. The streaks of mud and bruising, bloody gashes all over his face (body? surface?) made him look like he’d just clawed his way straight out of Hell, and the look in his eye seemed to say that he’d done it just to tear her apart with his bare hands.

She was dreaming. She had to be dreaming. Please, please let her be dreaming. Let her wake up…

Then he started talking, and she realized something was off.

“YYYOUUU DIDTHIISSSS,” was all she could really make out. He was saying lots more stuff, but the words were blurring together, so clumsy and slurred that it didn’t even sound like language. He started trying to walk toward her– walk , like on the ground , which she’d never seen him do in his triangle form. And he was barely managing it. Every raindrop that hit him seemed to be weighing him down as he approached, oozing blood— weird silver blood with an eye-melting rainbow sheen— from countless gashes on his arms and legs, and even between the brick things on his body/face. The finger gun he was holding out seemed like it was supposed to be aiming at her, but his whole arm was shaking more than the leaves in the summer storm. He trailed off speaking— the only other thing she’d caught was “I WON’T”— and his eye locked on her face. His eye was bloodshot, pink, shiny and sticky, like a wad of chewed gum. It looked horribly painful. Everything about him looked painful.

As she stared, his pupil shrank to a tiny point. His eye turned bright red, and the redness spread out into his bricks— scales?— like a fire burning behind drywall. For a second she thought he was about to turn into that giant crimson nightmare pyramid he’d shapeshifted into last year, and she almost turned and ran as he let out a scream and started to run at her…

…and fell on his face.

Mabel and Scout stood there, staring in silence, as Bill Cipher laid face-down and motionless in the mud. The woods were still filled with the low roar of rain, but somehow Mabel felt a heavy silence crushing her lungs.

Once her heart had stopped beating so fast, she risked a step toward him. Scout made a soft rumble of warning, but let her approach. Bill gave absolutely no sign that he knew she was there as she drew closer, until she was standing right beside him, close enough to see the gold scales on his back heaving rhythmically up and down. Slow, labored breathing. Had she ever seen him breathe before? She didn’t think he even did that. At least not normally. But from the looks of it, this was hardly a normal day for him. He really did look awful. One of his arms was a bloody mess, leather skin all ragged and torn. He probably had Scout to thank for that. She gave the dog an affectionate scratch behind her ear.

But the torn-up arm was far from his only injury. And she didn’t know how to tell health from illness in… whatever he was… but she was pretty sure he was usually a much brighter shade of yellow than this. He looked drained of color.

After several seconds of nothing happening, she noticed a big, durable-looking stick lying at the base of a nearby tree. She retrieved it, and after a few deep breaths and a bit of hyping herself up– “if he was gonna jump up and grab you he could have done it by now” -- she held out the stick and gave him a slight but purposeful nudge.

Nothing. He just barely twitched enough to show he was still alive. He was totally out cold.

She was getting concerned. That was a new experience, feeling concern for Bill. He’d done so much terrible stuff, but still… was she watching a man die? Or a triangle, rather? Was she about to see a triangle die?

A voice in the distance cut through the rain. Mabel jumped back and held the stick like a baseball bat on reflex. Then she recognized it, just as Scout’s tail started wagging. It was Tate McGucket’s voice. “Mabel? Scout? Is that you out there?”

“It’s us! Hi!” Mabel chirped, then realized her mistake. Leading Tate toward Bill would almost definitely end with somebody dying. And whoever it ended up being, she just really didn’t want to see that. With a few more quick, anxious nudges, she managed to shove Bill most of the way under a nearby bush just as Tate’s flashlight beam swept through the trees to find them. Scout took off running toward it and Mabel quickly followed, snagging the handlebars of her bike along the way. She arrived in time to see Tate grinning and ruffling Scout’s furry face as she stood with her paws on his chest. He looked up to see Mabel and quickly shoved the dog off him. “I keep tellin’ you not to jump like that, girl!” he said sternly.

“She must’ve run off chasing something,” Mabel offered as casually as possible. “But she ran up as soon as she heard me! She’s a good puppy!”

“Wish she minded me half that well,” he grumbled, patting Scout on the head. “Good on you for findin’ her, Mabel. I really can’t thank you enough–”

“You don’t have to thank me!” Mabel said, shooing the thought away with her hands. “I’m always happy to help out a friend!” Scout gave a quiet, appreciative “boof” as she scratched her ear.

“Let me drive you back home, then,” Tate said. “You shouldn’t be biking in this rain anyway. ‘Specially once it gets dark.”

Mabel shot an involuntary glance at the bushes behind her. If she left now, she might not find this same spot again. And if she lost track of Bill, if she went home not knowing if he was still out there somewhere, or if he might follow her…

“...Well, the others aren’t expecting me back ‘til eight,” she said slowly. That was true; she’d been out cycling well past sunset most nights since she and Dipper arrived. Ever since she’d gotten really into biking in the fall, she’d been eager to try out the trails in Gravity Falls, and now she was getting as much use out of them as she could. The Grunkles were cool with it. They both figured a girl who’d helped fight off a paranormal apocalypse could handle herself in the dark woods for an hour or two. And they were right, she thought proudly. She’d gotten really fast on her bike in the past few months. She could probably outspeed a grizzly bear with ease. Those guys were way too big and bulky to pedal well.

“Plus, I think the rain’s supposed to let up soon,” she continued. “Would it be okay if I just hung around the bait shop for a little bit, and then biked home after?”

“Sure thing,” Tate said, looking grateful for something to offer. “I’ll tell the missus to put some tea on. Scout, heel.” He clicked his fingers, and Scout followed close beside him as he headed back to the house.

Mabel waited until his back was turned. Then she picked up the stick again and drove it hard into the ground, at the base of the bush that hid Bill. Backing up a bit, making sure it would stay upright, she nodded to herself. It would work well enough as a landmark.

“I’ll come back later,” she whispered under her breath as she trailed behind Tate and Scout. “If he’s gone, I’ll run home and tell Dipper and the Grunkles. And if he’s dead, then… problem solved. I think.”

And if this is all a trick? Some cynical part of her brain piped up. If he’s luring you back into some kind of trap, then what? You gonna fall for it like last time?

“No,” she whispered back through gritted teeth. “Not again.”

One hand wandered to the cupholder on her bike that held her grappling hook. Fingers resting on its handle, she followed the others out of the woods.

The sun had fully hidden behind the horizon by the time Mabel left. The rain had lightened to a gentle mist, barely noticeable really, and she hadn’t wanted to stay out too late. So once she’d finished her tea (augmented with all the spare sugar packets Mrs. McGucket had claimed to own), she’d said goodbye to Scout and her humans and set out for home. She sent a quick text to Dipper on the way out, letting him know she’d be a little bit late getting back. Just got sidetracked, sorry, nothing to worry about.

But there was something to worry about. She saw the stick loom out of the darkness as she cycled up. The rain had almost washed it out of the ground, leaving it standing crooked. The sharp, jutting angle reminded her of that picture Dipper showed her once of a nuclear waste dump or something, where they’d put some scary black spikes in a desert to try and scare people away. “This place is best shunned and left uninhabited”.

She shouldn’t be doing this. This was so stupid. It didn’t make any sense to get closer.

But she was already standing over the bush. She wrenched the stick out of the ground and gripped it like a sword. She held it at arm’s length and pushed aside the foliage, reaching back for the grappling hook in her pocket with her other hand.

The dim light glinted off something shiny and yellow. She drew back a step, instinctive, but the shape didn’t jump at her. It didn’t move at all. Bill Cipher was still exactly where she’d left him.

Did he actually die? She felt her chest tighten, which was stupid. It was good if he was dead. He was already supposed to be dead. She should be thrilled to think he might have died under that bush, all his threats left unfulfilled.

Did I just walk away while he was dying?

Her hand was shaking. She tried to draw the stick back, but it bumped against one of his arms as it went.

It twitched. The fist clenched and drew back in toward the body. Mabel almost bit through her tongue from flinching too hard, but there was no further movement.

He was alive. Barely.

Mabel’s chest was so tight, it felt like she couldn’t breathe. This was the worst case scenario. He wasn’t gone somewhere. He didn’t jump up and scare her and at least provide some clue about what was going on. And he wasn’t dead. But he probably would be in a few hours. And there was nobody in the world who would ever possibly help. Nobody who even could, except her.

This was so STUPID. You already helped him once, Mabel. Remember? You helped him almost kill your whole family. You really wanna go another round?

But thinking about just walking away made her feel sick. She’d never just walked away from something that was dying before. How many wasps had she fished out of pools in her life? How many times had her parents scolded her for bringing wounded squirrels and raccoons inside? Those were bad ideas too. “Trash the house and get stung” ideas. But the wasps and squirrels and raccoons all lived. If she hadn’t done that stupid thing, they would have died. Not helping had never even felt like an option.

“He already died once before,” she whispered to the angry voice in her head. “He might come back again, someplace else, and cause a bunch more problems we don’t even know about until it’s too late.” She popped open the little wicker trunk on the back of her bike and pulled out her emergency picnic blanket. “Maybe if I, like, put him somewhere secure. And keep a good close eye on him. And then when he wakes up, I can get some answers here.”

The angry voice wasn’t convinced by her rationalizations. It kept yelling about how stupid she was as she draped the blanket over Bill, then gingerly lifted him, using the blanket like gloves, too scared to touch him directly. He weighed practically nothing; about the same as a large picture frame. The voice kept berating her as she shoved him into the bike’s front basket– no way was she putting him in the trunk and pedaling all the way home with her back to him. The front basket was just big enough that, with the blanket over him, he looked like a misshapen, mostly unsuspicious lump. She biked along the side of the road, eyes flickering back and forth between the basket and the pavement ahead, for the whole ride home. The voice was still at it by the time she leaned her bike against the wall of the Mystery Shack, but the louder and meaner it got, the less inclined she felt to listen to its advice. She knew this was a dumb idea. But she’d come this far, and there were no other good options.

They’d discovered, like, six new secret rooms since Grunkle Ford first made it back home. Some of them even he had forgotten about. There was one in the basement that she and Dipper had taken to calling “Gay Baby Jail”, because they’d started a habit of banishing defeated board game opponents down there. Also because it was small, cramped, almost empty, and only had one tiny, high window into the backyard, which for some reason had bars on it.

For all these reasons, it was the perfect habitat for Bill. There was a bathroom in the back, and they’d spruced the room up with a beanbag chair and one of those empty wooden chests from the gift shop, just to tie the room together. He’d be fine in there. Probably.

It was easy to sneak in the back door and down to the basement. Dipper, Stan and Ford were all chatting in the kitchen, working on dinner. It smelled like something was on fire, but she still really wished she was in there with them. This was to keep them safe, she reminded herself as she eased open the door to Gay Baby Jail.

She turned the blanket bundle upside down and dumped Bill out onto the beanbag chair. He was still out cold, lying there in a pile of noodly limbs, but at least he was still breathing. She dropped the blanket on top of him and backed away.

Looking him over, she frowned. A small bite wound on his arm was still oozing silver blood. It would ruin the beanbag chair pretty soon. She sighed and started digging through her pockets.

Gingerly, with as few fingers as possible, she pressed a sky blue band-aid over the wound. “You didn’t earn that,” she whispered. “That’s for practical reasons only.”

With one last look around the room, she jabbed a finger at him. “I’ll be back,” she said, practicing her Interrogation Voice. “And when you wake up, I want answers, Geometry Boy.”

Bill stayed asleep. Mabel shut the door, locked it, tested the lock. It held strong.

She took a deep breath and straightened up, switching from Serious Mode back to Mabel Mode. Then she snuck back outside, knocked on the front door, and joined her family for dinner.

[citricacidprince]

I was looking at your relativity falls au and I was thinking since Ford in the original series takes off Stan’s hat to show his hair, kinda revealing he is Ford, what if in relativity falls Ford takes the glasses off of Stan and puts them on and that is kinda of the moment

Also I really want more protective! Relativity falls Ford, I want to watch that child go feral and start biting people <3

Hiiiii!!! Sorry it took a super long time to reply to this I just,, this possessed me so much I may or may not have written, uh, 7400 words based on this lol (also a drawing but it’s hidden in the writing haha)

There sadly isn’t a lot of feral protective Ford in this, just sad wet cat baby Ford (tho you get a glimpse of it at the very end), but believe me I have many thoughts of protective Ford as they’re teens hehe!!

Like, they’re so fun to be because they’re the opposite of how they are in the show! Stan was the protector and would get into fights for Ford, but as teens Ford is extremely protective of Stan and will throw himself into a fight he know he can’t win in a moments notice because they insulted Stan, even when Stan tries to insist that it’s okay. These two make me siiiiick 💥💥💥💥💥

Anywho, this mini writing this is just a prolonged scene from Weirdmageddon part 3 but with my Relativity Falls AU paint on it lol

It’s filled with an comical amount of tears because I believe Mabel and Dipper are weepy saps and the baby boys haven’t had the ‘Boys don’t cry’ motto drilled into their heads yet, also they’re like, super traumatized atm haha

Well, have fun reading! Please please please please be nice, I know I’m not the best writer and just write when I’m possessed so please be so niceies to me or I’ll fucking cry <33💥💥💥💥

Everything is under the cut! :]

🍃🪦☁️~~~~~~~~~~~~⛈️👓🥀

Mabel and Dipper could only watch on in shock and horror as one of their beloved great nephew erased the mind of their other beloved great nephew. Dipper didn’t even know the boys still had that blasted machine, much less that they still had it on them here of all places!

Maybe it was good that the children had the memory gun hidden away. After all, they just used it to outwit and defeat Cipher.

However… at what cost?

Stanley’s round face was drenched in silent tears as he held the memory gun to the back of his brother’s head, his gaze completely focused but his trembling grip on the memory gun giving away just how much this was affecting him.

Dipper always thought he’d be ecstatic when Bill Cipher was finally defeated. Spit on his face, dance on his grave, give the worst eulogy in the world, the whole shebang. But now that the moment has finally arrived all he can feel is sick to his stomach.

They’re just kids. They shouldn’t be here. His sweet little grand-nephews shouldn’t be paying for his hubris. This should’ve stayed between him and Bill.

It should have been him.

The bright blue light faded and the memory gun hit the ground, Stanley’s hands shaking even worse now as tears fell to the floor, unable to keep his head up as little hiccups fell from his lips.

Dipper was still squeezing Mabel close to his side, the two frozen in their huddled positions on the floor, gut-wrenching guilt on his face while his sister had her hands over his mouth, only able to watch on with dread.

Dipper only faintly registered that the other members of the zodiac had been released from their tapestry prisons. That blonde woman Mabel seemed to like was rubbing her head as that young Hispanic woman who works for Mabel, Anjelita, held out a hand to help her up. That red-headed hairy lumberjack and that one oddly peppy goth teen helped young Fiddleford through his shaky breathing.

After a couple of moments Dipper heard his sister take a deep shaky breath, his voice wet as one of her hands reached out towards Stanley.

“…L-Lee? Lee, baby come here-” There was a weary and wobbly smile on her lips. She was doing that thing where she tries to be the comforting light in an awful situation, even though she is not doing any better than anyone else at the moment.

She was trying to corral her crying great-nephew into her arms, a mixture of trying to comfort him and herself.

She was swiftly cut off by gravity going wonky.

Dark bricks ripped out of the walls and shot up into the rift up in the blood red sky, Weirdmaggedon falling apart at the seams. Creatures of many shapes and sizes flew up into the rift, the older twins gripping each other close as they stared up into the multicolored light. Everyone was staring up into the sky, hope and relief in their hearts that the nightmare might finally be over.

Everyone but Stanley.

He was intensely staring at the back of his brother’s head, silent tears continuously streaming down his cheeks, unable to see the small content smile on Stanford’s face.

As the light began to envelop the town of Gravity Falls, Stanley reached out his hand to his kneeling brother to try and grab onto him but was unable to before the light reached the two, erasing most traces of Weirdmaggedon’s effects and safely displacing everyone in the Fearamid to the ground below.

The woods were quiet. Everything was much quieter than it was during Weirdmageddon.

There was barely a moment of peace before Dipper and Mabel were sprinting through the woods yelling out for their great-nephews, panic increasing with every passing second.

They finally came across the boys in a small clearing after 2 minutes of franticness. Stanley’s back to the older set of twins and Stanford kneeling in the grass.

Mabel ran much faster than Dipper did, practically throwing herself to her knees as she grabbed Stanley and pulled him tight into her arms. She buried him into the crook of her neck, tears beginning to drip down her face as she ran her fingers through his messy brown curls, trying to soothe him while she gently shushed his crying.

“Shhhh… shhh it’s okay Lee it’s okay sweepea, I’m here, Grunkle Mabel is here pumpkin.”

Dipper would’ve chuckled at the use of ‘Grunkle Mabel’, something Stanley insisted on calling her even after she revealed that she wasn’t a man because he thought Grauntie sounded strange, but he couldn’t really feel anything but heart ache right now. He stepped closer to the crying duo, kneeling down next to them as he glanced over towards Stanford.

He still seemed to be unconscious, quiet as a mouse as he kneeled on the grass. He was so still that Dipper almost wanted to check his pulse to make sure his heart was still beating, but the soft breathing coming from his chest eased his worries. Stanford was always so stressed and on edge the entire time Dipper had known him, which in all honesty, wasn't very long. However, in this moment with that small smile on his lips his nephew almost looked peaceful.

Guilt ate at his heart even more.

God he should’ve seen the warning signs that tension was building between the two boys. He’s the catalyst for causing Weirdmageddon by saying he would train Stanford in Gravity Falls while Stanley went home. He should’ve put his foot down and said Stanford was too young and needed to go home at the end of the summer with his brother. But his great nephew was just so insistent and Dipper himself was scrambling to think of an amazing gift for his twin sister for their first birthday together in 30 years, he just caved and said yes.

He’s the reason Stanley ran with that cracked rift. He was the final crack in the already strained relationship between the boys and he was too blind to notice.

He turned to his sister once more, emotions welling in his heart seeing his sister and nephew so upset and clinging to each other. He gingerly rubbed Stanley’s back and Mabel’s shoulder, softly speaking with sorrow dripping from his voice, “Stanley, I am so sorry… words can’t express how much I didn’t want this to happen. You shouldn’t have had to deal with the consequences of my mistakes..” He gingerly tucked a loose curl behind Stanley’s ear, softly adding on with a feeling of shame flooding his head, “…It should’ve been me.”

Mabel’s head immediately shot up at Dipper’s words, a glare on her wet face as she shot back with a low warning tone, “Dipper Lee Pines.” He quickly shut his mouth. Noted, she wasn’t going to take any self depreciation coming from him at the moment. Can’t say he blames her, he would’ve done the same if any self-depreciating words came from her mouth.

Stanley muffled something against Mabel’s neck instantly making the two stop what they were doing to turn to him. “What was that baby?” Mabel gently asked as Dipper continued to rub his back. The young boy pulled himself away from Mabel’s neck ever so slightly, taking in a deep shaky breath as he shakily repeated himself.

“…n-not Lee-”

The older twins' brows furrow, their hands stilling slightly as it was Dipper’s turn to softly question, “What are you talking about Stanley?”

The brunet pulls his trembling form away from Mabel to stand up, wiping his wet face with his arm, his cheeks so flushed from sobbing that his faint freckles were easily seen against the red. He stood still for a moment, trying to calm his breathing before he stepped between the sitting pair of twins and towards his kneeling brother.

He took in the sight of him for a moment, a sick feeling in his stomach as his trembling hands tentatively grab onto the glasses on his unconscious brother’s face, his touch light as a feather and careful, as if he was afraid his brother would shatter if his finger even as so much grazed him. He carefully pulled the glasses off and stared down at them in his hands, a fresh wave of silent tears falling from his cheeks and onto the cracked glass lenses.

“I-I’m… I’m n-not…” He shakily whispers, voice caught in his throat as he tries to get the words out. He gingerly lifted the glasses to his face and placed them onto his red nose, his fingers gripping the temples of the glasses as he hesitantly turned around. His wet brown eyes locked with his kneeling great-uncle and great-aunt, the kid’s gaze drowning in guilt as Stanford hesitantly continued on with his wobbling voice, “…I-I’m not S-Stanley.”

The two froze at those words, Mabel's bewildered gaze kept whipping her gaze between Stanford and Stanley, quickly growing distressed while Dipper felt a deep pit form in his stomach.

He’s so stupid, it should’ve been obvious but in all the chaos he didn’t even think to check. In the moment of peace he finally saw the differences.

The six fingers and the way his eyes squinted without his glasses should’ve been a dead giveaway, but there were also other signs as well.

Stanley had told Dipper not too long ago that his tooth was knocked out the second day the twins showed up. Apparently it was knocked loose when he fell face first into the dirt while fleeing with Stanford from a vampire, after his brother had hid the 3rd journal away from Stanley all day, taking ‘Trust No One’ Dipper had scrambled onto that in a paranoid panic to heart.

Stanford just lost his tooth not even 30 minutes ago. When the boys had begun to argue on the Zodiac Wheel Stanley couldn’t take it anymore and decked Stanford to the ground. Dipper remembers the immediate regret that flashed onto the young boy’s face when his brother spat out a bloody tooth onto the floor, opening his mouth to try and apologize but was unable to get a word out before Stanford quickly punched him back, causing the infamous fight between the two.

Stanford still had some speckles of dried blood on his chin, a reminder of that awful fight.

The two had faint freckles dusting their face but Stanley was the only one who had freckles on his shoulders.

The bandaid on Stanford’s face was falling off, as if it was peeled off and slapped onto his face.

Mabel let out a weak and breathless noise of confusion, brows furrowed and clearly overwhelmed by everything happening in such a short time. “W-Wha-? How-?”

Dipper cut his sister off. She was barely keeping it together as is, and while he was also extremely upset he had a lot of practice suppressing these kinds of emotions to survive in the multiverse. He can take over for a moment just so Mabel can take a moment to breathe.

“Stanford… what happened?” Dipper questioned, a comforting hand on his twin’s shoulder as his furrowed gaze met Stanley’s. Despite how intense he looked, there was a softness in his voice. A quiet plea for his great-nephew to tell him what the hell is going on.

Stanford’s watery eyes stayed locked with the ground, looking almost as overwhelmed and weary as Mabel did while his hands fidgeted against his stomach. “W-When you two started getting c-chased Bill I…” His breathing hitched. “…I didn’t know what to d-do, I was just so s-scared.”

One of his finger’s lifted to his lip as he unconsciously began to chew the skin off the side of it, a habit Mabel has been fighting tooth and nail for Ford to quit through the entire Summer.

Not that she can really bring herself to care at the moment.

Stanford looked increasingly distressed as he continued. “I-I was panicking, I always know w-what to do and I just I couldn’t t-think of anything! I thought my h-head was going to explode when-” He takes in a sharp breath, more tears beginning to well up in his eyes. “…w-when Stanley said he had a plan.”

Stanford was trying to wipe away the thick tears off his face, his cheeks irritated and red from how often he's been rubbing away tears. “E-Everything went so fast. He was explaining the p-plan as fast as he could while we swapped clothes. Said we were going to p-pull off our best con yet. Tricking Bill into S-Stan’s mind by convincing him it was m-mine and then erasing him for g-good.”

“I t-tried to ask why we were d-doing all of this… Stanley could've just erased my mind after I let B-Bill in and e-everything would just end, but Stanley… S-Stanley didn’t budge. He s-said it had to be him. Said I… S-Said I actually had a future.” Ford breathing hiccups, shoulders hiking up to his neck as even more even more tears run down his cheeks and to the grass below. “A-A-And I was j-just so scared I… I let him… I let h-him take my place…”

A choked sob rips from his throat, unable to take it anymore as he covers his face with his polydactyl hands, continuing to explain through the tears and shaky speech. “O-One of the last things I ever d-did was punch h-him in the face! I never t-told him I was s-sorry! He DIED thinking I h-hated him!”

Dipper immediately jumped into action, pushing himself over to Ford and pulling his hands away from his face. He rested his forehead against his great-nephew’s and held onto his smaller hands, keeping his eyes on Stanford’s as he firmly spoke. “Breathe with me Stanford. In and out.”

It took a moment but the kid’s breathing slowed ever so slightly as he tried to mimic Dipper’s breaths though he was still unable to control the hiccuping and sniffling.

“You didn’t kill Stanley.” Dipper continued to speak, his tone softening considerably as he gently squeezed Ford’s polydactyl hand with his larger one. “He’s alive and breathing right behind you.”

The kid began to look frustrated as he lowly choked out, “He might as well be.”

Dipper… couldn’t exactly retort that. By all means Stanley would be a shell of his former self, fundamentally a completely different person when he wakes up. However, he wasn’t going to let his great-nephew wallow like this. He gently squeezed his hands once more and softly questioned, “…Do you really think Stanley would hate you after all of this?”

Stanford froze at the question, only the sound of rustling leaves and birds chirping to be heard as the brunet boy’s eyes stayed locked with Dipper’s before letting it fall to the dirt below. After a couple quiet moments Stanford finally mumbled out. “He should.”

“But would he?”

“….” Ford couldn’t reply, a bittersweet and melancholic feeling flooding his heart.

As if on cue, a faint noise was suddenly made behind the three of them.

Everyone whirled their heads over to where Stanley sat kneeling on the grass. His brown eyes blearily began to open as he raised his hand up to idly rub them. The faint freckles on his cheeks and his brown curls were dusted in the warm light of the sun. A yawn fell from his lips, tiny tears pricking the corners of his eyes from the deep breath, before he finally opened his eyes completely.

His brown eyes blinked away sleep, his gaze slowly darting between the three people also kneeling on the grass in front of him, not saying a word yet, just taking them in.

Dipper and Ford waited with baited breath, words stuck in their throats as they stared back at Stan, trying to find any familiarity in his eyes.

Mabel couldn’t wait a single second longer.

“…S-Stanley? Lee?” She softly questioned, tears beginning to well up in her eyes again as she gingerly crawled closer to him. “H-Hey my little firecracker! You r-remember me right? Your lovable Grunkle Mabel!” Her hands raise up to cup Stanley’s round cheeks, her smile a little wobbly but her brown eyes filled with a ray of hope. “You remember me, d-don’t you pumpkin?”

Stanley just stared blankly at his great-aunt, completely silent for a moment before his brows furrow. He tilts his head, confusion clearly seen in his blank eyes as he bluntly asks, “Who are you?”

Mabel’s heart might as well have shattered into a million pieces. The tears welling up in her eyes freely fall but the wobbly smile refuses to fall. One hand raises to run through his messy curls as the other continues to cup his face. “W-What are you talking about sweetheart? It’s me, Stanley, It’s Mabel.”

Dipper sprung forward and gently began to pull Mabel away from Stanley, that pit in his stomach growing even more as his sister tried to weakly yank herself out of his grasp while crying out, “It’s me, Stanley! It’s me!” He squeezed her in his arms as her cries turned to sobs, burying her face against Dipper’s chest as she finally let out all the pain she’s been keeping in her chest since the moment Weirdmageddon had begun.

“It’s no use Mabel, Stanley doesn’t remember anything.” Dipper softly spoke. He hugged her close and rested his cheek on the top of her head, her silver curls brushing against his skin as his brown eyes locked with Stanley. The kid looked so confused and lost, a sight that just made his heart ache even more. “…Stanley doesn’t even realize it, but he just saved the world… Saved us… Our little hero…”

Stanley brows were furrowed, not understanding anything that was going on in the slightest. He glanced over at where Stanford was standing, lifting up his hand to cup his mouth and loudly stage whisper to the brunet, “What’s up with the old guys?”

Stanford didn’t answer, just staring at Stanley with large globs of tears dripping down his cheeks. Without warning he sprinted to his brother, engulfing Stanley in a tight hug and hiding his face in his neck. The impact of the tackle hug almost knocked the two to the floor but Stanley managed to keep himself propped up with one arm, brown eyes wide with shock as even more confusion filled his fuzzy mind. “W-Woah, okay-! We’re hugging now, I guess!”

“I’m s-sorry, I’m sorry, I’m s-so sorry-” Stanford kept repeating those words over and over against his brother’s neck, his body trembling from just how hard he was crying.

Stanley had no clue what the hell was happening. He was in a place he’s never seen before, surrounded by strangers sobbing their eyes out, and he was realizing that he couldn’t really remember what his name was again. A part of him was telling him he should just book it, get away from these weirdos, but something in him refused to let him.

Maybe it was because they all genuinely looked so sad. He didn’t know who they were but his heart sorta ached at their grief-stricken appearances, kind of wanting to comfort them in some way.

Maybe he’s a bleeding heart, he can’t really remember if he is.

Stanley shuffled a little in Stanford’s tight grasp until finally something kinda heavy was laid onto the sobbing child’s shoulders. Stanford tentatively lifted his wet face from his brother’s neck to peer behind him.

It was his leather bomber jacket. Stanley had subtlety slipped off the jacket, careful not to jostle the crying kid too much, then plopped it onto his shoulders.

“You looked like you needed it more than me.” Stanley spoke, an awkward but kind smile on his face. He then quickly shrugged it off and added on with a casual tone, “Besides, I was gettin’ warm in that thing, you can just keep it.”

Stanford sharply inhaled at those words, polydactyl hands letting go of Stanley to grip at the jacket draped over his shoulders and pull it even closer, acting as if it was a barrier that could protect him from the world around him. A choking sob ripped from Stanford’s throat, hiding his face against his brother’s neck once again.

“Okay! We’re still crying!” Stanley awkwardly sputtered out, tensing up as the brunet continued to cry against his neck, unsure of what he should be doing. Eventually he settled on tentatively patting the crying kid’s back, hoping that he was actually comforting the kid and not making whatever was happening worse.

“I s-shouldn’t have pushed you a-away because I was t-told to! You w-were never a burden! I-I don’t hate you! I n-never did!” Stanford kept crying apologizes against Stanley’s shoulder, making the already confused brunet boy even more lost with every word spoken. His hand continued to pat on Ford’s back as he softly replied, his words tentative and unsure, “…I don’t hate you either.”

“Yes you do.” Stanford thickly replied against his brother's shoulder, completely and utterly convinced in his distraught state that his brother would absolutely hate him if he could remember what Ford did to him.

Stanley couldn’t exactly reply to that because he genuinely didn’t know if he did hate this kid. He didn’t even know who he was. So instead of responding he just continued to rub the brunet’s back, hoping to ease the hyperventilation sobs buried against his skin.

It took a handful of long moments filled with silence and tears for the three to compose themselves, Dipper being the first to finally stand up.

“…We’ve been wallowing here long enough, people are going to get worried.”

Dipper gingerly pulls Mabel to her feet, tears had stopped falling from her face but her cheeks red and her famous smile no longer present. He made sure his sister was steady on her feet before holding out his hand to the twin boys huddled together on the ground, a small weary smile on his wrinkled face.

“Come on… let’s go home.”

The twins pull themselves up with Dipper’s help. Once on their feet Ford latches onto Stan’s arm, sticking to his side and refusing to let go. Stanley doesn’t seem to mind or even notice the clinging presence as his brown eyes look up at the sky and over the tall trees with curious wonder.

Dipper softly sighed and eyed over the fascinated brunet looking over the tree line with concern, “Are your muscles alright, Stanley? No issues with walking or standing?”

The kid didn’t respond for a moment, still looking around before he finally registered that he was being spoken to. His brown eyes darted around before he pointed at himself with his free hand. “Oh! Am I Stanley?”

Dipper felt a stab in his chest at the question, but still gently replied, “Yeah… you’re Stanley.”

Stanley nodded at the confirmation and softly said ‘Staaaanley’ under his breath, getting accustomed to the unfamiliar name.

“Stanley… cool name! I like it!” He cheerfully replied, a wide smile spreading across his face that showed off his missing tooth. “And my legs are fine, I think.” He used his free hand to grab onto Dipper’s hand and loudly added on, “Now lead the way, old man!”

Dipper sighed and squeezed onto Stanley’s hand, gently guiding him through the woods back to the Shack, never forgetting the route home even after all these years.

The twins were parallels of each other as they walked. Mabel was clinging onto her brother’s arm and leaning her head against his shoulder while Stanford was doing the same with his brother. The air was so tense and gloomy around the four, affecting all but Stanley.

Stanley was looking around the woods as they walked, his brown eyes full of innocent wonder as he mumbled under his breath about ‘Never seeing trees this big’.

When they made it back to the Shack Dipper could only wince at the state it was in. It was falling apart and damaged from the battle during Weirdmageddon, the damage unable to be reversed even after the apocalypse had ended.

“The Shack…” Mabel sadly lamented under her breath, the sight of the place she spent 30 years making into a home and business just adding onto her already overwhelming amount of sadness.

Dipper was about to try and comfort her when he noticed 3 figures standing in front of the shack. After a moment the three started to sprint towards the family, frames becoming clearer as they got closer.

It was Anjelita, Boyish Dan, and Fiddleford.

“Are you guys alright?!” Boyish Dan loudly asked with his booming voice before he even reached the family. Anjelita was silently but swiftly following behind him, her hand gripping her Abuelo’s cap so it wouldn't fly off her head and her eyes filled with concern. Fiddleford was tripping over his feet from how fast he was sprinting, Dipper was mildly concerned the accident prone teen was going to trip over a branch or rock and slam face first against the ground.

He didn’t trip, thankfully. The small blond teen stumbled to a stop in front of the family, specifically the younger set of twins, panting heavily. “Thank the lord y’all are alright! I thought y'all had gotten trapped under somethin’ or hurt or worse!” Fiddleford anxiously rambled on, clearly having thrown himself into a tizzy over his friend's safety.

Stanley’s brows furrowed at the new faces, especially the long nosed southern one right in front of him. He raised an eyebrow and looked over the blond with an untrusting gaze. “…You’re not going to hug me and cry too, are you?”

Fiddleford looked bewildered at the question, blinking in confusion as he asked, “Now why on’ earth would I do that?”

Before Stanley or someone else in the family could reply, Anjelita spoke up from beside Boyish Dan. “His memory was erased, correct?”

The family, minus Stanley, flinched at the question.

Anjelita was a very observant young lady, so it makes sense she would be the first to notice.

Fiddleford and Boyish Dan kinda tensed up at the question. They also saw what happened while they were trapped in the tapestries, but they had hoped that maybe…

“That really stuck? He doesn’t remember anything?” Boyish Dan questioned.

“Nothin’ at all?” Fiddleford softly added.

Dipper wordless shook his head and a solemn silence covered them all.

The three followed the family into the dilapidated Mystery Shack, everyone looking over the cracks and debris with melancholy and sadness on their faces. Well, all but Stanley.

Stanley excitedly jumped up as they all entered the run down living room. “Wow, nice place you have here!” The brunet ripped away from Stanford and Dipper’s grasp, the suddenness making Stanford weakly try and latch back onto his brother for just a moment before giving up and wrapping his arms around his stomach. The boy then ran full speed at the dusty recliner. Stan always loved that chair would steal it from Mabel whenever he had a chance.

He jumped onto the seat and laughed as he bounced a little before settling down. “Lovin’ this chair! I just sink into this thing!”

He opened his brown eyes and saw everyone standing at the edges of the room, the miserable air of sadness weighing so heavy on the room he could feel it pressing against his skull. Stanley limply leaned back in the chair, a faint look of annoyance on his face as he bluntly questioned, “Geez, am I at a funeral? Who died and turned you all into sad sacks.”

No one answered.

Fiddleford turned to the group, going to lift his finger to bite on it only to stop himself when he realized he was doing it. Instead the blond lifted up his chewlery necklace and began to bite on it instead, his nerves shot as he desperately asked, “Surely there must be ah’ way to reverse this!”

“No, there isn’t.” Stanford replied, not even bothering to look up from the floor, looking extremely tired and downright miserable as he hugged his jacket closer.

Fiddleford whips around to Stanford, exasperation and agitation clear on his face as he yells back, “There's gotta’ be!”

Dipper softly sighed, defeat dripping from his voice as he gently replied. “I’m sorry, Fiddleford. There isn’t anything we can do for Stanley. No one can come back from something like this.”

Anjelita perks up from the besides Boyish Dan, counteracting Dipper’s statement with a simple, “Miss Candy.”

“W-What?” Dipper questioned, blinking up at her in confusion.

The large red-headed teen jolted and jumped up at the reminder.

“That’s right! Kooky Candy got her memories back during that whole weird secret society adventure!”

Fiddleford looked up at Dipper with hope and desperation in his green eyes, hands trembling from the reminder of that awful day and his shot nerves. “Y-Yeah! An’ Miss Candy’s mind was cracked ‘cause of tha’ memory gun!”

The blond points to Stanley sitting on the recliner, the confused brunet just staring at the group with furrowed brows, not taking in anything that they’re saying. “Lee still gotta’ chance!”

Dipper is quiet for a moment, brain running a mile a minute. When he finally speaks up again his voice is low and unsure.

“… I’m not going to say it's going to work,”

His eyes meet his sister’s, her sad brown eyes filled with a glimmer of hope at the thought of being able to save her little firecracker.

“But I’m not going to say it’s impossible either.”

He racked his brain once more, trying to think of a solution, an answer that has a high probability of working.

“…Maybe if we had something that could jog his memory-”

Mabel suddenly gasped, eyes wide as she squeezes Dipper’s arm, her grip tight. “My scrapbook!”

She then quickly rushes to a desk near the table, glitter and shimmering pieces of paper fluttering out as her hands rummaged in one of the drawers. She let out a loud ‘Aha!’ And pulled out a pink and very sparkly scrapbook.

“It’s not going to work.” Stanford bluntly mumbled, defeat and sorrow clinging to his small frames.

“Not with that attitude!” The old woman quickly shoots back, not letting anything snuff out her freshly burning glimmer of hope in her chest.

She quickly ran back over to Stanley, the rest of the group, minus Stanford, following suit. She placed the glimmering book onto the confused child’s lap, the front labeled ‘Summer of 2012’ in sparkly glitter pen.

“I’ve been working on this book since the day you two arrived!” Mabel offhandedly explained while opening it to the first page. Pasted in the middle of that page was a cute photo of Stanley and Stanford unpacking their bags. Stan was making a silly face at the camera while Ford had not realized the photo was being taken, too busy hanging up his Nikola Tesla poster with a concentrated face. Stickers and other miscellaneous crafting objects were glued to the page. “Here’s the first day you two arrived!” She then pointed at about 4 to 6 small pieces of wood taped to the page. “And those are the splinters you got stuck in your hand when trying to unpack!”

Stanley furrowed his brow at that, very confused on why she would keep something like that but not having a chance to ask before she pointed to the next thing.

The next photo on the page was Stanford and Stanley looking a tiny bit scratched up and tired. Ford was looking away from the camera and into the inner pocket of his jacket, excitement shining in his eyes as he stared at the journal he had found in the woods that day that was poking out of his jacket ever so slightly. Stanley was also excited but for a very different reason. His eyes were wide with excitement, his equally wide smile showing off the space in his teeth where his tooth was knocked out. The missing tooth was being held very close to the camera, still covered in small flecks of blood.

“And here’s you losing your tooth the very next day!”

Next to the photo was also a small tooth taped onto the paper, assumedly Stanley’s baby tooth that was knocked out. He especially wanted to ask why she had scrapbooked that but was once again cut off, no one except him finding this old woman strange in the slightest.

Fiddleford had leaned over and flipped the page. On the page was a photo of Fiddleford, Stanley, and Stanford all huddled together on one of the boy’s beds, all of them wearing pajamas. Stanford and Stanley seemed to both be talking at the same time, talking over each other while Fiddleford looked a little nervous and overwhelmed, but a smile very clearly seen on his face as he was squished between the twins.

“Tha’s the first time I spent tha’ night after we ‘came friends! After I, uh, ya’ know, tried to kill ya’ with a giant robit-”

Boyish Dan pointed at the next page. The twins were wearing 70s themed dancing clothes, disco lights shining on the two as they stood alone on a dance floor. The boys were covered in punch but still smiling while sideways hugging. Stanford in particular looked a little tired and had a bruise or two.

“Your guy’s 13th birthday party? A bunch of power hungry Ford clones causing so much trouble we pulled the fire alarm and set off the sprinklers?

He then pointed at two carnival tickets taped onto the page next to a photo of Boyish Dan’s grappling both of the twins under his arms and lifting them high into the air, standing in front of a carnival as the warm afternoon light washed over them. Dan was laughing maniacally while Ford looked shocked, grabbing onto Dan’s large arm looking at the ground nervously, as if he was afraid of being dropped. Stanley also looked shocked but not in the same way Stanford did. Stan’s face was bright red and he looked like he was trying to laugh off being picked up so suddenly.

“How about the carnival? You tried that ‘test your strength’ game while Ford did that ‘guess how many jellybeans are in this jar’ game and both failed at them?”

Anjelita softly spoke up next to Boyish Dan as he turned the page. A picture of Stanley all dressed up was pasted onto the page. He was wearing a black suit, a red fez with the same symbol that’s on his sweater Mabel made him, an eye patch, and an 8-Ball cane. He had his eye patch flipped up and was winking at the camera, fully showing off his showman persona. Next to that photo was another one, this time depicting Stanley and Stanford sitting in a booth with Anjelita and her grandparents. Stanley and Anjelita’s Abuelo, Soos, were scarfing down a pizza slice as fast as they could, assumedly in a race to see who could eat it faster. Stanford was looking at his brother with mild disgust and concern while Anjelita’s Abuela, Melody, was excitedly cheering on her husband. Anjelita was sitting at the table leaning her chin on her hand, a soft amused smile on her lips.

“The time you were the boss of the Mystery Shack for a day? The arcade with the killer robots?”

Dipper had his hand on Mabel’s shoulder, carefully questioning, “Is any of this ringing a bell? Anything at all?”

Everyone, minus Stanford, were crowding Stanley, all in his personal space and making the dazed child even more confused. On edge and gripping the scrapbook tightly, furrowed brown eyes completely void of familiarity as he looked over the group.

“Look, I’m sorry,” Stanley began, quickly looking down as he slammed the scrapbook closed. “But none of this is making any sense to me! You keep talking to me like I know who you are, but I don’t!”

The hope in the group died at Stanley’s outburst, all of their enthusiasm fading and disappearing entirely in record time.

“Told you.” Stanford softly mumbled from the other side of the room, despondent and hugging himself tight while leaning against the wall, utter exhaustion seeping into his bones.

Stanley shifted uncomfortably in the recliner, that bubbling sense of guilt building in his stomach and his chest once again at the sight. He doesn’t even know these people but he doesn’t want to see them upset. Guess he really is a bleeding heart. He’s learning something new about himself every second.

The brunet sighed, idly rubbing his round cheeks as he quietly added on, his voice much softer than before, “Look… I’m sorry I don’t remember… I really am…”

“It’s alright Stanley, it’s not your fault.” Dipper gently replied, unaware of the way Stanford flinched at those words behind him.

There was a depressing and strained silence hanging over the group afterwards, no one really knowing what else to say after their hopeful attempt was proven to be pointless.

Then all of a sudden hot air and a snorting noise tickled Stanley’s left ear.

The kid whirled his head at the noise only to come face to face with a big old pig with a collar around its neck, along with a name tag that Stanley couldn’t read from where he was sitting. The two just stare at each other for a couple seconds, blank stare to blank stare, until it was finally broken by the pig hopping up and getting closer to Stanley, trying to chew on his brown curls.

Stanley squealed with surprise and tried to push the massive pig away, Mabel weakly laughing on her knees at the antics, her mind flashing to all the times Waddles has lovingly bothered her great-nephew the entire time he’s been here. She was about to tell her beloved pet to stop messing with Stanley when the kid beat her to the punch.

“Augh! Waddles! How many times have I told you to stop trying to eat my hair!”

Everyone froze, even Stanford’s head whirled over at Stanley’s words.

“…What did he say?” Ford asked, his voice laced in disbelief.

Stanford initially didn’t want to think there was a chance for Stanley to remember, figuring that this was going to be his punishment. Forever mourning someone who’s not even dead, someone he all but killed. But when Stanley spoke Waddles name, something he shouldn’t remember, felt that little ball of hope he’s been trying so hard to suppress in his chest reemerge.

Now Waddles was trying to lick Stanley’s cheek, making the boy squeal even more.

“I said get Waddles off me, Sixer!”

A small breathless laugh left Dipper’s throat as ran his hands through his silver curls, a hopeful disbelief in his eyes. “…It’s working.”

Stanford suddenly sprinted up to the group, grabbing onto his Great-Aunt’s arm from where she’s kneeling in front of Stanley and holding her scrapbook. “Keep reading, Grauntie Mabel.” His gaze serious, but his voice a soft plea.

Mabel had to quickly blink a couple times and bring herself back to reality, adrenaline beginning to pump in her veins at the prospect that this was working. She jumped to her feet, not even wavering as her knees creaked at the sudden movement, and called out to everyone in the room, “Story time!”

She grabbed onto Stanley, that classic Mabel smile was back on her face as she easily lifted him up and sat down where he was sitting on the recliner, pulling the frazzled boy onto her lap. She reached out and yanked Dipper to her as well, making him sit right next to her on the recliner. It was a bit of a tight squeeze but thankfully the two twins had always been on the lankier side so they made it work.

Dipper held his hand out to Stanford, helping him up and pulling him onto his lap, paralleling his sister next to him. Stanford’s immediately pressed against Stanley’s side, polydactyl hand instinctively slipping into his and squeezing like his life depended on it.

Boyish Dan and Anjelita leaned more on the farther back sides of the recliner while Fiddleford jumped up and sat on the armrest closest to Mabel, the blond pressing himself against Stanley’s other side.

Stanley was now completely surrounded once again, being hugged and squeezed and picked up by these strangers. However this time he didn’t get annoyed or uncomfortable at the attention. Instead there was this familiar warmth in his chest, like he was always meant to be held like this. He can’t really describe what caused that shift.

Maybe these guys are right, maybe he is remembering.

Stan allows himself to relax in the arms of the older woman and against the two kids pressing against either side of him, a small smile growing on his face.

“Okay okay,” Mabel began, flipping back to the first page of the scrapbook. “It all started when I got a call from my dearest older brother asking me to watch my sweet darling great-nephews for the summer, and how could I say no to having my precious little nephews all to myself for 3 months!”

Mabel began to go over every picture and every memento in the scrapbook, everyone else pitching in and adding their own commentary or laughing every once and a while, a smile on everyone’s face.

Except for Stanford.

Stanford was looking intensely at his twin, waiting anxiously for the moment Stanley finally remembered him.

A part of him was excited, the other was dreading it.

The moment his brother remembers what happened, what Ford did to him, their bond is going to completely shatter and Stanley is going to want nothing to do with him anymore. No more late night talks, no more covering for each other, no more getting into trouble. Stanford wouldn’t be surprised if Stanley wanted to cut him out of his life completely after this after what he did. Stanford wouldn’t even blame him. He deserves it after all.

Then he saw it and his heart stopped in his chest.

Stanley rapidly blinked for a second, a familiar shine in his brown eyes as he turned to look at Stanford, recognition and understanding in his stare for the first time since the end of Weirdmageddon.

The two stared silently as Mabel continued to talk, everyone’s words muffling into background noise.

Stanford wasn’t going to beg for forgiveness. His eyes weren’t filled with sorrow or guilt. They were steady, completely prepared for anything Stanley threw at him, knowing whatever it was he deserved it.

Stanley’s eyes were filled with that familiar shine but no emotion showed on his face as his stare bore into his twin, completely silent as the two eyes stayed locked.

Then Stanley did something Stanford wasn’t expecting. His brown eyes softened, a smile on his face as he got closer and leaned his head onto Stanford’s shoulder, his thumb rubbing over his twin’s polydactyl knuckles the same way their mother would do whenever she tried to calm them down when they were much smaller.

Stanford was tense, completely frozen. He was expecting yelling, punching, blaming, or even something as simple as wordlessly pulling his hand away, but he wasn’t expecting forgiveness.

He didn't deserve this. Stanley should hate his guts. Despise him and push him away just like Stanford was doing most of the summer.

Ford’s body didn’t untense, but he did slowly rest his head on top of Stan’s, squeezing his brother's hand as if it was his life line, his thoughts swirling in his mind like a hurricane.

He didn’t deserve Stanley’s forgiveness.

Or was it pity?

It must be pity.

It has to be.

Mabel was still speaking as she leaned down and rested her chin onto Stanley, Dipper doing the same with Stanford. A warm fuzzy feeling enveloped everyone in the room. Everyone but Stanford, who instead felt a sickening feeling of guilt deep in his chest.

Stanford didn’t deserve this. This kindness.

So he swore right then and there that he was going to spend the rest of his life atoning for what he did, staying by his twin’s side to make sure nothing would never, ever, hurt his brother ever again.

Or until the day Stanley wises up and realizes that Stanford wasn’t worth his pity, that he’s too good to have a coward like him for a brother.

Whatever came first.

🌻🌱🌤️~~~~~~~~~~~~🌦️🛡️🥀

Hope you liked it!! It was fun to write when my thumbs weren’t hurting from typing on my phone for 6 hours straight lmao 💥💥💥

[crystalandrose]

Bill breaks out of theraprism and unleashes all the alt. reality pines kids that are desperate to replace the once that lived, but Also this includes Evil!Ford, which- excited to see bill is alive in this reality when bill died in his- makes a deal with bill and now its possessed evil ford vs canon ford and both think the other is an idiot that threw away their chance at true happiness/fulfillment.

(More ideas on this below)

Evil Ford thinks that Canon Ford is stupid because he 1) spent so much time in the portal and wasted most of his time (if he was gonna go against bill, why also push everyone else away, all his other relationships were worsened cause of bill so why go against him if hes already suffering consequences) 2) threw away a chance to be happy AND be recognized for his talents/heroism/etc.

Canon Ford thinks Evil Ford is stupid because 1) cannot fathom a world where he is happy with what Bill's plan was 2) Doesn't think Bill genuinely cares about him, is just using him.

"Can't you tell, you're being used!"

"What's so wrong with feeling- no- BEING useful?" *continues fighting*

An issue is that 1) people cant tell the two apart enough visually when not possessed and 2) mabel/dipper/others feel bad about beating up a guy that looks just like their uncle. Stan, not so much.

I also thought itd be interesting if Bill and Evil Ford are so in-sync that their voices both speak at times when Bill is possessing him (similar to how certain fusions in SU overlay voices, would also have similar lines like "It feels so great to be back!"). They may be evil- but they have a more stable relationship so maybe possession is more of an equal control deal.

Along with the regular journals, Evil!Ford has a golden journal with an eye on the cover that he always holds close. Its cursed so only Ford's eyes can read it (this includes canon ford!) and inside it has details about cipher, communications between the two, and more personal diary-type entries. While Evil Ford still had Bill in his mind (in his universe bill still "died" after/before/during weirdmaggedon) so they could communicate that way, Ford still let Bill take over while he slept sometimes (so that he could get more work done) and Bill would spend time looking at other realities (explaining his absences). So the book was a way to jot down communications without forgetting. So Canon ford gets his hands on it somehow (maybe they imprisoned evil ford in order to trap bill or something) and is reading trying to find a way to get leverage with Evil Ford but its like a teenage girls diary or like a note being passed in forth and its just a bunch of flirting 💀.

(An idea I had is Evil Ford put something in the book saying "to allow other eyes to see, recite this aloud" and ford- sleep deprived staying up trying to find answers in the book- gives in and recites it so others can help. But upon reading it a glitter explosion happens and the words "LOL YOU THOUGHT STEALING MY EYES WOULD WORK?" either pop up or are said. Evil ford in the cell laughs and said that was a trap for eye-thieves and he never even thought alternate fords eyes would be a problem.)

Last thing: Given that the canon universe is the only one where Dipper and Mabel survived maybe?, Evil Ford's Dipper and Mabel died while Ford was away. Evil Ford feels guilt, worrying if it was somehow his fault for not returning to GF sooner or prioritizing protecting his family (he believes/did make a deal with Bill that his family would be spared). So when he sees the Canon twins, he stumbles and stutters a bit in his resolve. He can't bring himself to go against them, only when he is possessed by Bill is his body able to not hold punches. (Maybe canon bill and evil ford's bill are a bit different, and during possession evil ford realizes this and is worried).

[crows-in-the-house]

Some Bill Cipher nsfw 🙏🏻 I want that triangle

Same anon. Same.

I didn't know if you wanted headcannons or a fic so I made general hcs. I will add a part 2 later with him as a human and a triangle

tw: slight gore, and sex over all, nsfw!

At first he would be really bad at anything intimate - too harsh, too sloppy, maybe too fast, too laud or annoying. But with time he will learn. Especiallly with you as his test subject! Not that you will remember that with your memories changed!

also, enjoys making your mind blank, it feels like a tv with static, it's so funny to him he can't stop!

He likes to shove his tangue in your mouth when you don't expect it. He towers over you, exploring the insides and biting on your lips, making saliva drip down from your mouth. Then he steps away and leaves as nothing happened

He's not really into sex, he doesn't get anything from it, but likes to watch you squirm and make funny faces so he can get down to it - at least he gets to mock you.

He likes how fragile humans are, the thought of being able to snap your bones with one wrong move doing your special time makes him going places. Of course, to your dissmay, he will share such informations with you. Wanna know how you could die now? What are the chances for you getting a heart attack? He will let you know!

And don't worry! He won't shut up during the whole thing! Really! He will talk withaut a break, constantly laughing at your attempts of making him stop.

He is into gore so will actively try to harm you. Don't worry tho, he will make your nerves drown in pleasure when he disarreanges your body parts and organs. Will also take a bite out of your heart, lick in between your lungs and try to stick his fingers in your hot throat. Doesn't it feel nice? Maybe he should stick something else in there huh?

He enjoys making your hair messy. You look like a pouting dog every time!

His hands are constantly roaming on your body, if it's not your hand, it's a waist or arm, or maybe the back of your neck. He likes to "whisper" (shaut and threaten) all the things he could do to you if you won't stop talking to all of your friends. After all he wants to you himself. Always.

If you want him to, he can act a little more caring, whatever that means. Of course, you will have to pay him back for that, but why would you care about that now? For once he will be gentle, confessing how good you make him feel, how adorable your emotions are, how cutsy (pathetic) you look to him.

Remember to pay him back later tho, all great actors must have their prize sooner or later!

Also uses your blood as a lube and drinks your saliva lika water

I think he would be a switch - either wanting to annoy you, being all bratty and whiny or trying to embarras you as much as he can, being raugh and mean, ejoying you obeying him.

Call him your god, your muse, your world, your life! Anything stroking his massive ego will get him rilled up. Drown him in compliments, show him your devotion and admiration, maybe he will act a little softer then usually.

Better be careful what you say during sex tho, he will ask milion questions just to get you under his control :

"Want me to stop? Really? Oh it's a shame you can't tell me with that gag in your mouth!"

"aww does my puppet want to cum? yeah? what would you do to get it hm? OH, EVERYTHING? WOULD YOU SHAKE ON THAT?"

"HA I COULD FUCK YOU SO GOOD YOU WON'T BE ABLE TO WALK FOR THE WHOLE WEEK. YOU WANT THAT RIGHT? RIGHT? HA! YOU GREEDY HUMAN, AS YOU WISH KID!"

he's into shaming and degrading his partner but prefers to receive praise, will get mad and raugh if you try to deny giving it

will pull your hair,

and your limbs, he may even rip them of just to put them back in

enjoys your cries, doesn't matter if it's from pain or pleasure

also doesn't understand what "too much" means until he's on the receiving end

not that he doesn't like overstimulation, getting unable to talk and move just because of you stroking him so good shows him how obsessed you really are with him! Please make him tremble and shake, make him beg you to stop, laughing and whining when you ignore him

Will absolutely lie to you and prey on your naivety - of course he can make you not feel the soreness and pain the next day! He's a demon, remember? All tiredness could go away at the snap of his fingers, that's a promise.

(Not a deal tho, so he ignores it the next day. Just to see your tired expressions and body covered in bite marks.)

Over all, he's a very intense experience.

[ckret2]

Chapter 54 of everybody being really eager to kill their prisoner human Bill Cipher for good: the gang's trying a new way to create fuel for the one weapon guaranteed to destroy Bill.

It goes so great.

As Ford drove to Northwest Manor, Dipper skimmed through the introduction to Flatworld, where Edward Bishop Bishop was pretending that his book had been dictated to him by a sentient square; but he couldn't focus on it. He sighed, shut the book, and stared out the passenger window at the passing trees.

"Something on your mind?" Ford asked.

"I'm thinking about the Axolotl's poem again. The one about Bill."

"Ah. Still trying to remember the rest?"

"Kinda. Mabel and I are working on it together," Dipper said. "But it's not that. I've just been wondering... what if the poem is... you know, part of a prophecy about Bill or something? Mabel remembered another line of the poem—'A different form, a different time.' What if the Axolotl was telling us why Bill's back as a human? Maybe we need him here—to, to use his powers to fight off a bigger threat or something. Do you think that's possible?" He held back another question: what happens if we kill him before then?

Ford frowned thoughtfully. "I've been thinking about the Axolotl as well," he said. "About the worlds I visited that called it a god of criminals, tyrants, and luck. That sounds to me like the exact kind of being that would be Bill's ally. And it's odd how resistant Bill was to telling us anything about the Axolotl, when it simply passed over town for a few seconds and then moved on. Why the secrecy? How does Bill think it benefits him for us not to know about it?" Ford shook his head. "I think you're on to something, Dipper—I think whatever the Axolotl told you is important. The question is: important for whom?"

Dipper's stomach turned. The Axolotl had radiated such kindness; it was hard for Dipper to believe it could be up to anything evil with Bill. But then—Dipper clutched at Flatworld with the damning biography on the back—but then, how many people had Bill himself fooled with the benevolent teacher act?

Dipper understood now why "Don't Trust Bill" had so quickly turned into "Trust No One." Even when you knew that there was only one real enemy—even when you knew that most people out there were still reasonably honest and friendly—you could never tell just how far Bill's shadow stretched. "I guess that's true. We can't really know."

"We can't know yet. But it is worth trying to figure out," Ford said. "I wish I could tell you where to start looking for answers. For now... we'll just have to consider anything possible."

Ford was right. But all the same, every time Dipper paranoidly asked himself What if Grunkle Ford is right, what if the Axolotl really is on Bill's side, a second, even more paranoid, even more worried voice asked, But what if he isn't?

####

When they arrived, Fiddleford was already in his lab, hard at work on the miniature particle accelerator they'd come to see him about.

"The paradox what was powering it started yowling" Fiddleford said. "So obviously it ain't a paradox no more."

Ford grimaced. "That does lay to rest whether the cat is alive or dead."

"Sure does," Fiddleford said, sighing. "So I let the cat outside and I'm rebuilding the whole contraption to run on a more robust paradox. I hope you've got better news for me, Stanford."

"We hope so too. I think Dipper might have the solution to our fuel generation problem."

They briefly explained Dipper's unfortunate puppet incident last summer—Fiddleford had to take a break in the middle to grab a cup of coffee, "To steady my nerves,"—its ongoing effects on his sleep, and the new developments of the last few days, culminating in Dipper learning how to project his soul out of his body—

—which, Ford now realized, he probably should have expected Fiddleford to take poorly.

"Sweet sasparilla!" Fiddleford kicked over his chair while jumping onto the nearest table. "You're dead?!"

"What?" Dipper said. "No, I—"

"You're like a ghost possessing a zombie!"

Dipper thought that over. "Whoa..."

But, even though Fiddleford thought the whole affair went against the rightful order of the world, he agreed that it was a sound idea and worth trying. "It's lucky that my tater tot and I hunted out all the ghosts in this place during our spring cleaning," he said, opening a cabinet. He retrieved what looked like a pair of vacuums redesigned to be worn like backpacks with an assortment of random electronics dangling from wires. He held up a set of goggles and headphones hanging off one of the vacuums. "I invented these doohickeys that'll let you see and hear ghosts! They'll let us keep in contact with Dipper while he's out of his body." He set the vacuums on a table near the miniature particle accelerator and said, "First, though—Stanford, I need you to help me rebuild this machine."

"Of course." Ford turned away from the vacuum he'd been inspecting to look at the miniature particle accelerator.

Dipper said, "Wait, there are other ghosts in this mansion?"

"Yep!"

"I hunted one at the Northwests' big party last year," Dipper said. "How many more ghosts are in here?"

"We've caught, oh... thirty or forty so far."

"Seriously? That's amazing." Dipper was already thinking about the amazing Ghost Harassers episode this place could have been. Maybe even a miniseries.

"Aw, it weren't that hard. If you leave the TV on, they like to flock around it to watch. All you've gotta do is hide in the corner until a whole big bunch of 'em are gathered 'round—and then ya get them!"

"Oh," Dipper said. "Huh. I just tricked one into getting trapped in a silver mirror."

"Well, that's right impressive too. I never woulda thunk of that," Fiddleford said. "Me and Tate have been sucking them into cooling pouches in these here vacuums and then sticking the pouches in a chest freezer down in the dungeon! Maybe I oughta line the freezer with silver."

"This place has a dungeon?" Dipper asked.

Before Fiddleford could respond, Ford asked, "Which parts are we replacing?" He was inspecting the miniature particle accelerator.

"All of them!"

Ford gave Fiddleford a surprised look. "All of them?"

"Yep! Every last one!"

"Is the design changing that much?"

"Nope! It's staying exactly the same!"

"Then... why can't we just use the same machine we already have?"

"We will be using the same machine!" Fiddleford smiled mischievously. "Or will we?"

"Ah! I see! The particle accelerator of Theseus," Ford said. "Very clever."

"And kinder on the local stray cats, I reckon."

Dipper offered his assistance, but the work involved too much welding and buzzsawing for him to try untrained, so he was directed to sit a safe distance away with the first aid kit. At least it gave him a chance to read some more. He had to shove aside a couple flashlights and the glue grenade to reach where the slim book had slid to the bottom of his backpack during their walk from the car.

He skimmed over some of the worldbuilding looking for the story before he realized the story was the wordbuilding and looped back. It was a lot bleaker than he expected, even after Mabel's warning. Rigid class system, oppressive government, all kinds of horrifying shape prejudices... Frustrating dream visits to the ignorant line people in the first dimension who didn't believe in the second dimension, and to the self-absorbed King Zero in the point-sized zeroth dimension who thought a whole universe was contained inside him... A just as frustrating visit from a sphere who simply couldn't explain the third dimension in a way the square protagonist could understand, which was even more annoying since the square had just seen how the first dimension couldn't comprehend the second for the same reasons, so why couldn't he accept the possibility of a third dimension he couldn't imagine? Dipper got that it was supposed to be a metaphor to help three-dimensional readers understand that not being able to visualize a fourth dimension didn't mean it was impossible; but still. Come on, man. Don't be stupid.

On the other hand, at least now Dipper had a framework to understand the concept of higher dimensions and probably a leg up on next year's geometry. Would high school geometry cover four-dimensional space?

After a couple of hours of work and a break for lunch, the miniature particle accelerator was rebuilt and ready for another attempt to generate fuel. Fiddleford pulled on one of his ghost vacuums like a backpack, put on the set of connected headphones and goggles, and settled his glasses on over the goggles. "Y'all ready?"

"Ready," Ford said. He was seated at the accelerator's monitors, holding the jug that would contain any NowUSeeitNowUDontium they generated, and wearing the other vacuum—with the goggles over his glasses, and he was a bit worried about how Fiddleford had positioned his.

"Ready," Dipper said, a tad less certainly. What if he couldn't do it today? What if he'd never actually been able to do it last night and the whole thing really had been a dream?

But Fiddleford flipped the accelerator's power on, stepped back, and said, "All right! Do your thing!"

"Okay." Dipper stared straight at the machine, and—eugh—thought about degloving his body from his soul, peeling out of his skin fingers first.

This was only the second time he'd left his body deliberately. He'd observed in the past that the mindscape was strangely gray and still compared to the real world—but he'd never realized just how stark and swift the change was, like all the color and warmth had been abruptly sucked from reality. He shivered.

Ford inhaled sharply. Fiddleford stumbled back against the nearest table and yelped, "Flipping flapjacks!"

"You can both still see me?" Dipper said. "Can you hear me, too?"

"Loud and clear," Ford said.

"Like the voices of the dead." Fiddleford shuddered. "Welp, let's get this over with. I don't like all this ghost business. It ain't natural."

Ford gave him an amused look. "Since when have you ever been concerned about what's 'natural'? Didn't the engineering club vote you 'most likely to build a robot that flies in the face of God'?"

"You hush! There's nothing unnatural about iron, electromagnetism, and flamethrowers."

Dipper studied his body's face, its eyes pointed blankly toward the particle accelerator. "Well, I'm looking at the experiment, but I'm definitely not thinking about it. I think that's half of the paradox?"

"That's right," Fiddleford said. "Now, you just—float yerself on over to the other side of the accelerator, and think about it without looking at it."

"Right." Dipper positioned himself directly across the accelerator from his body, shut his eyes, and tried to think experimental thoughts. He didn't know much about Dontium besides what Ford had written about it in Journal 3—that it was inert when you were looking at it and radioactive when you weren't—so, if the miniature particle accelerator generated any, would he get blasted with radiation? Or was his body staring at the accelerator enough to keep it inert? But no—it was supposed to fill up the jug Ford was holding, right? Ford was observing it. Dipper tried to imagine what must be happening inside the accelerator; how did it work, would particles spontaneously generate in the tubes? Maybe they circled around until they fell into the hose to the jug...

He heard Ford gasp. "Fiddleford, look at this— Don't listen to me Dipper, just keep—keep thinking whatever you were thinking!"

"Is it working?"

"It was! Don't let us distract you."

Dipper tried to ignore the sound of Fiddleford running over to Ford, and started humming to drown out their hushed conversation. That was good, right? It meant the experiment was working. Keep thinking about that—experiment. Experiment. Expeeeriment. ... He wondered if trying to do the experiment by putting himself and Tyrone on either side of the accelerator would have worked, or if it had to be Dipper's soul and his body—

"Hot diggety!" Fiddleford shouted. "We've reached critical mass!"

"What does that mean, is it bad?" Dipper opened one eye a crack, trying to squint enough that he couldn't see the particle accelerator. "Is it gonna explode?"

Ford explained, "It means we've generated enough Dontium that it can sustain its own existence. Now, even if you get distracted, what we've already generated will remain. It can only go up from here."

"Wow," Dipper said. "That only took, what, a couple of minutes?"

"Less than that! During our last attempt, we tried for hours without reaching critical mass," Ford said. "Your idea was right on the money. Excellent work, Dipper."

Dipper grinned. After all that anxiety, it was almost a letdown how easy it was, but the coolness factor made up for it. He could just imagine the conversations the first week of high school: What did I do over summer break? Oh, nothing much. Just synthesized a new element. To fuel a weapon custom-designed to kill an immortal chaos god. And did I mention I was a ghost at the time? It didn't quite top last summer's adventures, but...

Then something went wrong.

There was a noise halfway between the electric buzz of a tesla coil and the rip of Velcro being torn apart. A stench like burning hair filled the air. A line of shifting colorful light began worming its way out of the center of the particle accelerator and up into the air.

"Oh no. Ohhh no!" Fiddleford grabbed his head. "The micro-rips! The threadbare fabric of reality! Our experiment put too much of a strain on it! We tore straight through!" One foot bounced agitatedly, "Ohhh, I knew I shoulda run some calculations before substituting in Dipper for you and Stanley."

Dipper gasped as the line of light began to agonizingly stretch open wider. Reality began seeping over its edges and dripping through into the kaleidoscopic miasma beyond. It developed a second horizontal rip across its middle as reality stretched beyond endurance in multiple directions. "What—is that?" He was afraid he knew.

"A dimensional rift," Fiddleford said.

"The Nightmare Realm," said Ford.

The last frayed thread holding reality together snapped apart, and the rift tore open wide, fully exposing the Earth to the roaring roiling chaos beyond. 

They screamed.

"Hello?" A giant set of dentures with stubby arms and legs leaned through the rift. "Oh hey! Aren't you the guys that killed Bill?"

They screamed again.

"Is screaming how humans say hi?" the monster asked. "I'm Teeth. Aaah!" He turned toward Ford. "Hey! Fingers! Lookin' less electrocuted than the last time I saw you—"

Ford socked Teeth in the incisor, knocking him back through the rift. "Back, you! You and your 'friends' are not welcome in this dimension!"

"Ow. What the heck, man."

Fiddleford shouted, "Don't stop observing the Dontium!" He bounded across the room on all four to scoop up the milk jug and stare at it. 

Ford nearly toppled through the rift, and had to grab onto the miniature particle accelerator as the heaviest nearby object to anchor himself. The rift sucked on reality like a vacuum, and the longer it was open the more powerful it grew.

Over the roar of the rift, Dipper yelled "What do we do?!"

"We have to seal it! Before it sucks all of Gravity Falls into the Nightmare Realm!"

"How?!"

Last summer, the instant Bill had no longer been around to maintain the dimensional rift, it had also sucked reality into it, starting with everything that properly belonged in the Nightmare Realm; but then it had also quickly sealed itself back shut. On the other hand, this rift was just opening wider and wider. Maybe it wasn't like the rift Bill had used to enter Gravity Falls, then? Maybe it was structured more like the wormholes that had been left behind after Weirdmageddon—

"I've got it!" Ford picked up Dipper's body—trying not to shudder at how lifeless it felt—and unzipped his backpack. "Is the alien adhesive grenade still in here?"

"It should be! Let me see." Dipper floated over to peer into his backpack.

The rift was already strong enough to drag at Ford's clothing. The lightest objects in the room lifted into the air and were sucked through. Papers. Pencils. Coffee mugs. Dipper's soul.

He screamed. "GRUNKLE FORD!"

"Dipper!" Ford grabbed for Dipper's ankle, but his hand passed right through. Ford's blood ran cold as Dipper tumbled head over heels into the Nightmare Realm.

"Look at that," Teeth said, watching Dipper soar by. "Dinner delivery."

There was no difference between the mindscape and reality in the Nightmare Realm, if Ford followed Dipper  through he'd be able to get a grip on Dipper there. But how would he carry Dipper back to Earth without him melting through Ford's grasp the moment they were through the rift? Didn't matter, grab Dipper first, then figure it out—

Fiddleford shoved the jug of Dontium in Ford's hands as he ran past. "Watch over this!"

"What—!"

Fiddleford jumped into the Nightmare Realm, the end of a long extension cord tied around his waist. He stretched out the hose of his ghost vacuum and flipped a switch, and with a yelp Dipper's soul was sucked inside. Ford gasped in relief.

Trying to keep as much of his attention on the potentially-radioactive jug as possible, Ford reeled Fiddleford back in, shoved the jug in his hands, and dug into Dipper's backpack again until he found the alien adhesive grenade. He pulled the pin and chucked it through the rift. "Duck!"

He shielded Dipper's body and Fiddleford shielded the Dontium jug as the grenade exploded. Even so, the force of it blew aside everything within ten feet of the rift and sent both of them sprawling. When Ford glanced back over his shoulder, the adhesive had gummed up the opening of the rift like a popped glowing magenta bubblegum bubble; and as he watched, it sucked the opening shut. In a few seconds the air was still and quiet, and the only sign the rift had ever existed was an immense, jagged vertical line in the air around which the light refracted wrong.

Fiddleford gingerly got back to his knees, then pulled off his glasses and pushed up his goggles. One of the lenses had been crushed, and the glasses' frame was bent beyond repair.

Ford heaved a long, heavy sigh. "A bit too familiar, wasn't it?"

Fiddleford blinked at him. "Wasn't what?"

"The—reeling you in from the Nightmare Realm?" Ford said. At Fiddleford's blank look, Ford said, "The portal test?"

"Oh." Fiddleford scratched his head. "I... still don't remember it too clearly."

"Ah. Yes. Of course." Ford's stomach churned with guilt as he looked away from Fiddleford. Over thirty years late was too late to apologize, wasn't it? (Over the past year he'd wondered, again and again; and again and again he'd decided that it was.) "Thank you for saving—" He gasped, "Dipper!"

"Oh, right!" Fiddleford took off his vacuum, dropped it on the floor, and unzipped its bag. The ghosts of a Northwest in a buckskin coat and a confused-looking hippie escaped into the air. "Hey," Fiddleford barked. "You get back here!" He raised the vacuum's hose and flipped its switch. He caught the hippie, but as soon as she was sucked in she flew out the unzipped bag and off to freedom again. Fiddleford lowered the hose and shook a fist at the retreating spirits. "I'll get you ectoplasmic varmints, just you wait!"

Ford knelt on the floor and held the bag open wider. Dipper floated out, arms crossed tight and shivering. "So... so cold... and dark... and really, really dusty."

"Let's get you back where you belong."

Ford held up Dipper's body as he lay back down in it. He could see the moment color flooded back into Dipper's cheeks and his eyes focused again. Dipper groaned.

Ford said, "You're never doing that again."

"I am never doing that again," Dipper said.

"We can't do that again," Fiddleford said. "The fabric of reality in this town is too unstable to handle another paradoxical physics experiment that powerful! We'd rip open another rift to the Nightmare Realm!"

"And we just tossed away all of our remaining alien adhesive," Ford sighed. It left Gravity Falls vulnerable if any more rips formed. Sometime soon he'd have to go back to the alien crash site and see if there was any more adhesive he could scrounge up; but even if he did, they couldn't risk wasting more of it like this.

"But did we get what we needed?" Dipper asked.

Fiddleford held up the milk jug of Dontium and shook it. It had a strange shifting color, wavering between cyan and orange depending on the lighting. "Looks like we got about three-fourths of a gallon," Fiddleford said.

"It's only enough to fully power one shot," Ford said. "But... one shot is all it'll take to destroy Bill." His stomach flipped nervously as he said it. He'd been anxious every other time he'd prepared to kill Bill, but that had always been because he'd been preparing to battle for the fate of the universe with a godlike monster who could easily kill him or worse. For the first time, he was preparing to execute a defenseless prisoner, and he didn't know whether it would make the universe any safer.

For half the summer he'd hoped Bill was harmless. Now he wished he had proof that Bill wasn't, so that he could lay his conscience to rest.

Dipper looked as uncomfortable as Ford felt; but when he caught Ford's gaze, he hardened his expression and nodded. Ford nodded back.

"WOOHOO!" Fiddleford leaped his full height straight up, making Ford and Dipper start. "We done it! YAHOO!" He waved his hat around ecstatically, doing a little jig in place. "YIPPEE! HIP HIP HURRrr—hey, how come you fellers ain't celebrating?"

Ford didn't know how to explain without making Fiddleford worry he was at risk of falling under Bill's spell again. "We'll celebrate when he's dead."

####

"Who was at the door?" 8 Ball shouted. When he didn't get a response, he paused his game. "Teeth?"

Teeth waddled into the game room. His face was completely plastered shut with some kind of glowing purple glue.

Pyronica cracked up and Paci-Fire chuckled darkly. 8 Ball sighed, "What'd you get into, you idiot?"

Teeth waved his hands emphatically.

"All right, okay." 8 Ball stood and stretched. "Does anyone have the number of that lamp guy Bill used to hook up with?"

Half an hour later, having lured over Lava Lamp Guy with the false promise of ping pong pool and illicit liquids, they cornered him in a bathroom, with Zanthar sitting in the tub restraining him while Paci-Fire struggled to hold his face still.

"Please!" Lava Lamp Guy screamed. "Let me go! I'll do anything you want! My neurologist said I can't take much more of this!"

"Cease your complaints," Paci-Fire said, as 8 Ball took off Lava Lamp Guy's bowler. "You shall not dissuade us. We do this because we have no choice in the matter."

"Why not?!"

"Because none of us feel like making the trip to a dimension with a drugstore."

8 Ball stuck a soup ladle into the open top of Lava Lamp Guy's head and fished around until he got a scoop of the red goo floating around in the thinner orange liquid. Lava Lamp Guy howled in agony. Zanthar heaved a weary sigh.

8 Ball carried the ladle over to where Teeth was sitting on the toilet lid kicking his feet. "Here you go, bud."

Teeth clapped his hands, grabbed an oversized toothbrush, and held it out for 8 Ball to pour the goop on. He scrubbed his teeth until the goop dissolved the adhesive. "Whew!" He stretched his jaw a few times, then jumped to his feet. "Thanks! I was worried I was gonna miss karaoke night." He looked in the sink mirror to scrub off the remaining scraps of adhesive.

8 Ball put Lava Lamp Guy's hat back on. Lava Lamp Guy groaned, "I think I forgot my third husband."

"You've only been married twice," Hectorgon lied.

"Oh." Confused, Lava Lamp Guy said, "Alright."

Teeth muttered, "Blech, divorce memories." He grabbed a bottle of mouthwash to clear out the taste.

"So what happened?" Kryptos asked. He was hovering in the doorway beside Pyronica.

"I'unno. I think the Dimension 46ers were messing around with their portal or something? They opened up a portal here."

"What? Uh-uh," Pyronica said. "It had to be some other dimension. We just invaded them, why would they open the portal again?"

"No no, that sounds like humans to me," Kryptos said. "If one of them pushes a button and immediately dies, the guy standing next to him will go, 'I wonder if it does that every time.' I've seen them do it."

"It was definitely them, I saw that local contractor Bill recruited for the portal who went nuts. Fingers or whoever."

8 Ball groaned. "You mean the guy that invaded the Quadrangle and tried to kill everybody?"

"Yeah. That guy. He told me I wasn't welcome on Earth and chucked a glue bomb in my face. I was like, well alright, buddy, I'm not the one who opened up a portal in your house, you could have just stayed home instead of ruining my day," Teeth said. "I didn't really say that to him. I thought it."

"So now the humans are invading us." Pyronica threw her hands in the air. "Great! This is just terrific! Bill teaches them how to make their own portals, they follow us home, and now we're about to have a pest problem that knows how to use tools! How long is it until this whole place is crawling with humans?! I'm going househunting, how many rooms should I look for? 8 Ball?"

"I'm in."

"Teeth?"

Teeth sighed, but said, "Yeah. The neighborhood's going downhill. Especially if we're gonna have a pest problem."

"Big Z?"

Zanthar gave a thumbs up.

Pyronica looked at Paci-Fire. He averted his gaze. Pyronica said, "Paci?"

Sullenly, he said, "We should ask Keyhole's opinion as well."

She laughed in disbelief. Nobody cared about Keyhole's opinion, he went with whatever everyone else went with. Appealing to Keyhole was just a delaying tactic. "Fine, sure. We'll get Keyhole's opinion."

"I'm not going," Hectorgon said, crossing his arms.

Relieved, Kryptos said, "Yeah. Me neither."

"You don't have to," Pyronica snapped. "You two and Morph can wait for Bill to come back from the dead as long as you want. But the rest of us are leaving."

Kryptos tilted toward the hall, gesturing for Hectorgon to follow him away from the others. "How long do you think we can hold this place without the outerplanars?" The Quadrangle was all that remained of Bill's turf. Without Bill's energy boosting them, none of the shapes were particularly powerful. They'd always depended upon the other Henchmaniacs to guard Bill's stronghold, the heavy-hitters like Zanthar and Pyronica. Even Bill preferred to let them fight his battles when he could; Bill's energy was much vaster, but less renewable.

Hectorgon grimaced uncertainly. "We've gotta think of something fast."

####

Dipper stared at the jug in his lap, ensuring it didn't turn radioactive before they got home. Bill practically seemed to have a radar for Ford—and on top of that, could see through walls—but as far as he cared Dipper may as well have not even existed; so they'd decided that Ford would go in the main door to ensure Bill's attention was turned away while Dipper went through the gift shop and took the elevator down to Ford's study. Ford had told Dipper where to find a lead locker that would keep the Dontium contained until Ford could use it to refuel the Quantum Destabilizer; all he had to do was put it in and stare through the crack until he'd slammed the door shut.

And once they'd decided on that, the drive home had fallen deathly silent.

As the Mystery Shack appeared through the trees, Dipper asked, "We're doing the right thing, right?" His voice was quiet. "I hate him, but—we owe him our lives. And there's that prophecy..."

"Lives can't be owed," Ford said. "Yesterday he may have saved us, but tomorrow he would still destroy our world in a heartbeat. We can be grateful to be alive—but we can't let that stop us."

"So, we're doing the right thing?"

Ford was silent for much longer than Dipper would have liked. "I hope so."

####

(We're moving toward some important stuff!! Hope y'all enjoyed and I'm looking forward to hearing your thoughts on this week's chapter!)

[giulliadella]

Speculative Biology of Euclydeans (and Bill Cipher) part 4

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3

Euclydean society and Bill Cipher's disability

Reading the first part is highly recommended before reading this one, since in that part I explained how Euclydia functions as a dimension.

This part is going to talk about disability, discrimination and eugenics of geometric shapes, so tw if you're sensitive to that.

Society

Euclydeans were intelligent, sapient organisms that lived in a complex society. From Bill directly, we find out that they had schools, jobs, families, social structure and developed medicine. This makes them seem very much like humans here on Earth.

We know that Bill had a family, his mother and father, however, we don't know whether those two were married. So I can't tell you whether the institution of marriage even existed in Euclydia. Bill never talks about marriage, so I'm inclined to believe that they didn't really have wedding vows, but rather, a pair would stay together because they loved each other and for their children.

However, Bill does talk about divorce. He sees his falling out with Stanford as divorcing, so it's pretty clear that Euclydean "marriage" consisted of a pair being together and deciding to spend their life together, but if they wanted to break up, that was called a divorce and they probably had disputes over who gets house and kids.

And when we're speaking of love, Bill claims that he can't see the difference between love and fear in humans. This is kind of true: both intense feelings of love and fear activate the sympathetic nervous system which causes the heart to beat faster, deepens and quickens the breathing and makes us all sweaty and flushed. Love in humans causes the same things to happen as fight or flight response and Bill is too dense to accept that there is a difference.

This, however, tells us that in Euclydeans, feelings of love do not activate their equivalent of fight or flight. Bill is a person very prone to angry outbursts at slightest provocation. But Ford can do a lot more to him than any other person before he gets angry. This means that love in Euclydeans is a soothing feeling. Love makes them feel calmer and safer. Hell, Stanford's mindscape was Bill's safe space. Now, of course, love in Euclydeans isn't all about calm - they also get excited. Excitement upon seeing the one you love, but expressed as happiness, with most likely slower heartbeat. Again, loved ones in Euclydeans are seen as a safe space, a little lighthouse in a stormy sea to hang onto.

Euclydeans also express love in a similar way to mammals: they bring gifts (Bill catching rats and arranging them to form Ford's name), they want attention from the other person and their affection, they share food and drinks and overall want to spend time and have fun with their companion.

But when it comes to anger, fear and joy I don't see any significant differences between humans and Euclydeans. Sadness is a tough one, because Bill expresses it by not expressing it. This man is in so much denial that he could flood the Nile. However, distress in Bill is more or less the same as in humans. He also gets drunk after break up and acts as a drunk person would. This tells me that sadness is expressed somewhat similarly in Euclydeans as in humans with maybe some tweaks here and there.

Bill is obsessed with The Great Gatsby, so much so that he dedicated a chunk of his book to literally citing the second chapter of it. This is a very concerning behavior (but, to be fair, most of his behaviors are). However, I believe that his obsession comes from a feeling of nostalgia and familiarity. When I look at Bill's attire I see a guy wearing a fancy hat and a bow tie which were a staple for evening dress of 1920s gentlemen. He also sports a cane, which they also wore. I can't remember much from The Great Gatsby and I'm too lazy to read it again, but it does take place in 1920s America. So, maybe the society Bill was born into resembled that time period.

If that was the case, the societal structures and certain expectations would have been rigid. Euclydia is very much based on Abbott's Flatland and, while that world is a critique of 1800s Britain, it depicts a very sad and bleak society where everyone has to fit in a role that was determined by their shape. In Flatland, Triangles were the lowest class, with isosceles being the lowest of the low and used as slaves and soldiers, while equilateral Triangles (like Bill) could rise in the society and perform the roles of merchants. Scalene Triangles were considered abominations and were killed as kids.

I don't think that Euclydia was exactly as Flatland. However, some Gravity Falls material point towards triangles being lower class citizens. I sadly don't have Journal 3, but I know about the page where Stanford goes to a second dimension and he talks about how Triangle people are low class citizens and Circle people are high class citizens. This is very similar to Flatland, but what about Bill?

Well, Bill was probably from a lower middle class family. Him wearing oversized shoes that were probably bought on sale or given by someone whose child had grown out of them, speaks about them being kinda poor. Bill was also bullied by his peers at school, but notably by rhombuses and trapezoids. These shapes were one class above him, because they had four sides. Better off kids bullying a poorer, disabled kid is a tale as old as time.

The eugenics policies in Euclydia were probably much less strict than in Flatland. However, if they were anything like laws controlling disabled people in 1920s USA, then Bill and his mother were probably forcibly sterilized because of his mutation.

2. Bill Cipher's disability

Bill was born with a disability - well, to be fair it was more akin to superpower - of being able to see into the "third dimension". Bill could see outside of Euclydean borders because he had his eye placed on the front of his face and not on the side, like other Euclydeans. This allowed him to see the stars of the surrounding universes. (please check part 1 of this analysis where you have detailed sketch of Euclydia in relation to other universes).

However, because of his mutation, even though he had much broader view of the universe, Bill was considered legally blind by his peers. Because his eye was on the front and he could move only sideways, Bill was seeing his home dimension only with his peripheral vision. He could make out basic shapes and colors, but not the details. He probably draws his parents as blue and red triangles because that's how he saw them. He could never see the details of their faces. He could, of course, recognize them by touch, smell and voice, but he could never see them as they could see him.

Bill also behaves a lot like a person with ADHD. Now, I have ADHD and I got that diagnosis when I was SEVENTEEN. My early school years were hell. If Bill does have ADHD, he was probably a problematic child at school and that just added more fuel for his bullies. The lack of control over his emotions and his special interest in stars were definitely a reason for him to get bullied, maybe even more than his disability. There were no schools for special needs children in 1920s USA, which doesn't mean that they didn't exist in Euclydia. But, since little Bill was from a poor family, he didn't get to go those schools if they existed.

Another quirk of his mutation in Euclydia meant that Bill had problems feeding himself. Since Euclydeans use their eye as a mouth, Bill had to eat sideways. Imagine if your mouth was on your back and you had to reach behind to feed. Bill was lucky that his eye was much bigger than other Euclydeans which made his mouth bigger as well. His parents also accommodated his needs - his mom was removing crust from his bread and he was also given his medicine in liquid form.

I made art to explain this more easily:

So, with Bill being bullied and rejected by his society because of his disability (and likely neurodivergency), there was no wonder he wanted to somehow prove himself. Talking about stars and the existence of something outside of Euclydia was considered illegal, but why? Well... stick around for part 5, where I will explain how I believe Bill Cipher accidentally destroyed his entire dimension. It will be fun ;P

@ok1237 and @unoriginal-starwalker I hope you'll enjoy this =D

PS: I hid Dipper and Mabel in the art! Can you find them?

[thatdepressedtwink]

Bill was probably considered disabled or blind in the 2nd dimension… think about it. Assuming Bill can’t see from side to side as his eye position was smack dab at the centre of his body looking up into the 3rd dimension with 2D vision. Meaning nobody in his world could see his eye for the nature of its position, they would assume he’s just an eyeless person.

Let me explain this with shitty visual examples:

Alright! So we got Bill, eye in the centre looking up into the unkown, and some rando with eyes on his side. They’re both in the 2D plane, so let’s see what rando sees.

This is a terrible artist rendition but this is what rando sees in his perspective, (doesn’t necessarily have to be horizontal, could be vertical) but omit the white lines - that was just to show how flat his world is. As a 2D being, he sees 1 dimensionally.

You can try the same thing, if you take a thin piece of paper - imagine there’s a little stickman of some kind looking at his side - you can lower your head to look at the paper from its side. And you’ll see a flat sheet of paper, like a line, there you are seeing from the stickman’s perspective. Victorian satire book named Flatland describes this pretty well with explained depth perception (not seeing, perceiving) and social customs.

It’s also why we can’t see in 3D but 2D, yes we can perceive depth but that is a trained ability, close one eye and it’s no different than your usual vision aside from depth perception. That’s why when you look at a 2D screen you can see your 3D world normally. A 4D being would be able to see in 3D though, but I digress.

Let’s say another 2D being is looking at this rando, what’s it look like from their perspective?

Probably something like this.

It’s probably not entirely accurate, the inner workings of a 2D creatures perspective I don’t know but this is about what it be like looking at rando in 2D. The red his body, the red pupil his eye.

Great, now let’s see what Bill Cipher looks like to average flatland citizen (the yellow being Bill):

Oh uh. Okay.

No eye, what a freak am I right? Yeah, with no eye on the side it’s likely they thought he was born without any at all.

It’s also very possible that Bill couldn’t see anyone in his world too, but I don’t think that’s Hirsch’s intention so I leave it at that.

No wonder, everyone tells you you’re blind, you’re eyeless, that you can’t see, but you can see. Into a higher dimension - the 3rd dimension, with your 2D vision. Did it look beautiful? Was the sky shimmering with stars, infinite possibilities and opportunity? When did you realise you were never blind at all? When did you realise you were seeing the inconceivable? But unable to touch it, did the 3D world beckon you? You felt special, maybe you were desperate for it.

Teasing and abuse consuming you whole till it was the only thing on your mind, you saw more, something more than them, than yourself you have to show them more. Was it on the basis of revenge? Spite? Inspiration? Good intentions or ill will? The first time he saw the faces of his family, was it because he recognised their screams? When you wipe out a dimension you don’t just kill a world you destroy a universe, you erased planets, you drowned out your stars, there’s nothing left to call home now. No matter where you go you’ll be an alien, an alien without a home planet is only a thing. Was it worth it?

It’s a big if to say that Bill was blind in his 2D world. While I don’t think Bill would be able side to side and see his family, friends, members of his community, etc I also don’t think his appearance/biology makes sense for a 2D being so I don’t think it matters. But if they were going for as much realism, this 2D guy should look like a hollow triangle full of hollowed intestines, a brain and an eye, a mouth that functions as both eating function and the waste function. It’d be like being able to see through a human. As a 2D being there is no depth, so why is there an inside guts and an outside skin thing he was when we look at him from our 3D world? We’d see his insides but his 2D friends would only be able to see his skin, like how we do our friends too.

Anyway, that was a useless explanation, just thought it’d be interesting to explain. I really like learning about theoretical higher dimensions and possible life forms.

[nephalem-da]

I saw you have requests open for Bill x Reader.

I wanted to ask if you'd write a playful sarcastic Bill who realizes he has feelings. And for f!human reader (or GN!reader) no less. And he does a terrible job acting like Bill usually acts when reader is present or the subject of the conversation. Dare I say he acts normal, so very unlike the weird reader is used to. But reader doesn't pick up on the obvious signs either so it's a mutual pining and awkwardness while everyone else just wants them to kiss already.

I hope you have a great day/ night/ weekend and take your time with my ask. No rush!

M'kay byeeee <3

Sarcastically Yours

(Bill Cipher x GN!Reader)

First of all, thank you so much for being my first ask! 🥳 I’m super excited to write this, and I hope you enjoy the playful chaos that is Bill Cipher realizing he’s got feelings (and doing an absolutely terrible job hiding them). Here’s a little fic with plenty of awkwardness, and pining! Enjoy!

Genre: Fluff, Humor, Mutual Pining, Slight Crack

Warnings: None (it’s all fluff and awkward cuteness)

Summary: Bill Cipher, the sarcastic demon, realizes he has feelings for you, and he does a terrible job hiding it. Meanwhile, you’re completely oblivious, and everyone else is suffering through the awkwardness, waiting for you both to figure it out.

You knew Bill Cipher was weird. A literal one-eyed triangle from a dimension beyond comprehension? That’s not exactly normal. But you’d gotten used to his sarcasm, his chaotic presence, and his annoying habit of invading your personal space. It was just Bill being Bill.

Until recently.

Something about him had changed, and you couldn’t quite put your finger on it. Bill, the same demon who once turned your kitchen appliances into tap-dancing minions, now seemed to be avoiding eye contact with you. And when he did speak, the usual biting sarcasm was gone, replaced by awkward muttering and half-hearted jokes.

Today, Bill was sitting—yes, sitting—in the Mystery Shack, flipping through a book he clearly wasn’t reading. His usual floating, bouncing-around-the-room energy was nowhere to be found.

"Are you sick or something?" you ask, leaning on the counter, staring at him.

Bill glances up from the book, his single eye narrowing. "Sick? Me? Of course not!" His voice is just a little too high-pitched, and Dipper, who’s watching from the other side of the room, immediately raises an eyebrow.

"You’ve been acting... off," you continue, your suspicion growing. "Usually, you can’t go five seconds without making some smart remark."

"Yeah," Mabel chimes in, bouncing over to your side. "You haven’t even insulted [Y/N] today. I thought that was, like, your favorite hobby."

Bill sputters. "I—I’m giving them a break! Geez, maybe I don’t always have to be sarcastic!"

Dipper snorts from behind his journal. "Since when?"

Bill glares at him. "Since now, nerd!"

You exchange a look with Mabel, and it’s clear she’s thinking the same thing: Bill’s acting weird, even for him. Normally, he’d be pranking everyone, floating around causing mayhem, but lately, he’s been... quiet. Almost normal, and that’s what makes it even weirder.

"So," you say, eyeing him. "Are you gonna tell me what’s going on, or are you just gonna keep pretending like nothing’s wrong?"

Bill fidgets in his seat. "I told you, nothing’s wrong! I’m just... thinking. Yeah, thinking about... the stars."

"Stars?" Dipper repeats, looking up from his journal. "What, are you planning another apocalypse or something?"

Bill lets out a nervous laugh. "Nope! Just... admiring them! They’re pretty, you know?"

Mabel gasps, slapping a hand to her chest. "Did... did he just call something pretty? I didn’t know he even knew that word!"

Bill shoots her a glare, clearly flustered. "I know a lot of words, okay? Pretty, beautiful, gorgeous—"

He stops mid-rant, realizing what he’s just said. His yellow triangle face turns a strange shade of pink, and you stare at him, completely confused.

"Are you okay?" you ask again. "You’re acting really weird today, even for you."

Bill quickly waves a hand in the air, trying to brush it off. "I’m fine! You’re the one making this weird!"

"I’m making this weird?" you repeat, completely lost. "What did I even do?"

"Oh, I don’t know, exist? " Bill blurts out, and then immediately claps a hand over his mouth.

There’s a heavy silence in the room. Mabel’s eyes go wide, and Dipper looks like he’s just seen a ghost.

Stan, who’s been standing in the doorway this whole time, mutters, "This is painful to watch."

Bill, clearly mortified, stumbles to cover up his slip-up. "What I meant to say was, uh, you’re... distracting. Yeah, you’re a distraction. That’s why I’m... off my game today."

You blink at him, still completely clueless. "A distraction? How?"

"You know, just... being around," Bill stammers, waving his hands vaguely. "Being... you. It’s... distracting."

Dipper and Mabel exchange a look, and it’s obvious they’re both screaming internally. How could you not see what was happening?

Mabel steps forward, putting her hands on her hips. "Okay, Bill, enough with the weird cryptic stuff. Why don’t you just tell [Y/N] what’s really going on?"

Bill shoots her a look of pure panic. "I have no idea what you’re talking about, Shooting Star! Why don’t you mind your own business, huh?"

Mabel rolls her eyes. "Come on, everyone else has figured it out!"

"Figured what out?" you ask, completely confused.

Dipper sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. "This is so painful to watch."

"Painful for you? I’m the one being interrogated here!" Bill snaps.

Stan steps in, shaking his head. "Kid, just tell ‘em. This whole thing’s like watching a car crash in slow motion."

Bill groans, burying his face in his hands. "Fine, fine! You wanna know what’s going on? I’ll tell you what’s going on!"

You lean forward, curious. "Okay?"

"I—" Bill starts, then stops, clearly struggling. He takes a deep breath. "I... like you, okay?"

There’s another heavy silence in the room. Dipper drops his journal, Mabel lets out a dramatic gasp, and even Stan seems momentarily stunned.

You, however, just blink in confusion. "Like... like me? As in... what, like a friend?"

Bill lets out a frustrated groan. "No, not like a friend! Like... like like you! Like... in a romantic way!"

It takes a moment for the words to sink in. Bill Cipher, the sarcastic, chaotic demon, likes you? Romantically? The idea is so bizarre, so utterly out of left field, that you can’t even process it.

"You... like me?" you repeat, still in disbelief.

"Yes!" Bill throws his hands in the air. "Isn’t it obvious? I’ve been trying to not be a weirdo around you, but apparently, that’s even worse!"

Mabel gasps dramatically again, clasping her hands together. "Oh my gosh, this is so cute!"

Dipper just stares at you, then at Bill, then back at you. "How did you not notice this? He’s been acting like a total freak!"

Bill glares at him. "I wasn’t being a freak! I was... handling things!"

"Handling things?" Stan repeats, raising an eyebrow. "Kid, you’ve been acting like a nervous wreck. It’s embarrassing."

Bill turns to you, still flustered and obviously out of his element. "Look, I’m not great at this whole... feelings thing, okay? But I do like you. A lot. So... there. I said it."

You stare at him, your brain still trying to catch up. "You... really like me?"

"Yes!" Bill practically shouts, throwing his hands up again. "Do I need to spell it out for you?"

You blink a few more times, and then finally, it clicks. Bill Cipher, the same demon who once turned your house upside down for fun, likes you.

"Wow," you mutter, still processing. "I... I didn’t expect that."

Mabel jumps up and down, clapping her hands. "Finally! I’ve been waiting for this moment forever!"

Dipper groans, burying his face in his hands. "This is so awkward."

You look back at Bill, who’s staring at you with a mix of hope and dread. You’ve never seen him look so... vulnerable.

"Well," you start, smiling a little. "I guess I like you too."

Bill’s eye widens. "You... do?"

You nod. "Yeah, I mean... you’re still annoying, but... yeah."

Bill stares at you for a moment, clearly stunned. Then, slowly, his eye wrinkled like a grin. "Well, well, well. I guess this whole feelings thing isn’t so bad after all."

Mabel squeals, jumping up and down. "Kiss! You have to kiss now!"

Dipper groans even louder. "Mabel, no, and I don't think that's even possible with his... eye?"

Bill just scoffed but ignored him, floating closer to you. "Well, I did say I like you. Maybe I should prove it."

You roll your eyes, but you can’t help the smile tugging at your lips. "You’re still a dork, Bill."

"Yeah, but I’m your dork now," he says, leaning in.

And maybe, just maybe, you let him kiss you.

Thank you again for being my first request! I hope you enjoyed all the chaos and awkwardness between Bill and the reader, and feel free to send in more ideas anytime! 😊

[matcha-milkies]

MARRIED LIFE

Summary: Bill Cipher gets everything he ever wanted, including (especially) a “marriage” to his favorite human. Ford and Stan disagree about where to go from here.

Relationships: Bill Cipher/Ford Pines

Content Warnings: Forced Marriage, Implied/Referenced Dubious Consent, (Forced) Alcohol Use

Tags: Triangle Bill, Canon Divergence - Weirdmageddon, Bill Cipher Wins, Collars

Word Count: 1,556

Link to AO3: Here

A/N: I don’t know yet whether I’ll post a second chapter. Perhaps! These gay little cartoon characters sure are fun to write.

Ford looked out over the sprawling destruction that was Gravity Falls. One arm crossed over his abdomen, in the other he nursed a cocktail glass topped off with swirling golden liquid. Bill was none too pleased if he came back and there was ever any left, but Ford could only stand so much of the stuff in one gulp. Besides, if he drank too quickly, the toll on his body was nothing to scoff at. He still had no idea what was even in it. Every time he had asked, Bill’s eye had simply creased in silent amusement, or else he had gone on talking like the man had never said anything.

Little fires dotted the landscape all over. Well, they weren’t so little, were they? Ford always made himself sick with these viewing sessions, but it was the only stimulating thing to do around here, aside from pinging out notes on the piano. And besides, why should he be spared from all the misery? If he was sheltered from it, up in his obsidian tower, the very least he could do was feel bad about it. He took another sip from his glass and grimaced. Great Scott, that was disgusting.

“Sixer?” The name sent unpleasant ripples across Ford’s nerves, but when he turned and saw his twin’s face, he let himself relax. A little.

“Stanley, you’re alright.”

“I better be. That was part of the deal and all…” Stan dusted off the sleeves of his suit, looking around. “Wouldn’t want you, uh… suffering for nothing.” His eyes traveled from the painting over the fireplace and then to the lavish, dark red robe Ford had cinched around his waist.

“Bill had a different flavor of suffering in mind for me.” As if to punctuate that statement, he tilted back his drink and nearly coughed it up again.

“Yeesh.”

“It tastes like bitter defeat,” Ford explained. He saw the face his brother was making. “I’m not being poetic, Stanley. He somehow made it taste like the actual poignant sting of failure. I would offer you to try some if I didn’t think it was slowly poisoning me.”

“Yeah, pass on that one. Why don’t you just dump it out in the sink? You do have a sink in here, don’t you?”

“Ah, yes, of course, why didn’t I think of that?” Ford’s expression softened, and he sighed. “I’m sorry. I don’t mean to be snippy. It’s just… He would know. By the time I’m to the bottom of one of these, I’m… different. For quite some time.”

Stan seemed to be snapping these pieces together in his head, the drink, the robe, the golden “wedding band” around Ford’s throat. Clearly, it was forming a picture he didn’t like. “Okay, so what’s the plan?”

Ford eyed him and then let his gaze drop.

“Poindexter? You’ve been thinkin’ up a plan, right?”

“Of course I have! Every second of every hour, and I just keep hitting dead ends. He’s virtually omnipotent. I’m bound by contract to him, and even me thinking of ways to get out of it could give him a reason to renege on his end of the deal and hurt you! Or worse, the kids!”

“So that’s just it?! We lie down and roll over?!”

“I-I don’t know, Stanley. I’m mated.” Off his brother’s look, he added, “That’s a chess term.”

“I-I know it is! But could you not use it next time?”

Ford sank down onto the flesh couch. He hated that it hardly bothered him anymore. “Maybe this is it. Maybe… I’m meant to accept this fate, as punishment for—”

“Stop! Stop that! Do you hear yourself?” Stan strode forward until he was in his brother’s face. “You’re this pathetic? You hand the universe over to Bill Cipher on a silver platter and then give up?! You’re probably the only one smart enough to think up a way out of this mess, so how about less wallowing and more scheming?! Who cares what happens to me?!”

Ford screwed his eyes shut as he was berated. “I do! What kind of idiotic question is that?”

“And the kids, you want them to grow up in a world where Bill Cipher is king?!”

“Of course not, but you don’t know the things he’d do to them if I acted out, Stan! He’s not going to spare them because they’re children! He will torture them!”

Stan smacked the glass out of Ford’s hand. It shattered on the floor. Ford gaped. “Stan, you shouldn’t have—”

“I don’t care what he thinks! Neither should you!”

“Stop framing it like I’m on his side!”

“Aren’t you, now?!”

“I’m only trying to be pragmatic about our options! And thank God I am, or who knows where we’d all be right now?!”

Ford froze then, his muscles tensing at a familiar presence in the room.

“YIKES. Who knew the family reunion would get this VOLATILE?” Bill circled them with glee, his eye trained on them all the while. “HEY, I guess I’m part of the family now too, isn’t that right, Fez?” He looped an arm around a growling Stanley and wiggled his ring finger. “We’re brothers-in-law! Ha! Who would’ve thought?”

“Bill.” Ford’s breaths were painfully shallow. “I—”

“And Sixer!” Bill was suddenly in his face, his eye taking up the majority of Ford’s field of vision. “I had NO IDEA you thought about me this much when I’m away! That’s so sweet!” With no warning, his eye turned to a mouth and trailed saliva up Ford’s cheek and temple, leaving his glasses askew and his face scrunched up in distaste. The demon’s eye blinked back to normal. “WELL? Where’s my WELCOME HOME KISS?”

Once he had gathered himself enough, Ford leaned in and planted a chaste kiss on Bill’s face, near the corner of his eye. Bill giggled like a little schoolgirl.

“OH NO. It looks like somebody was REAL CLUMSY! Let me refresh your drink, doll!” The shattered glass reassembled itself and floated into Ford’s hand. The liquid leached out of the carpet, pouring itself back into place. “You hardly drank any! Here, let me help with that.”

“Bill—” was all Ford managed before his head was tilted back and about half of the glass’s contents were dumped down his throat. He gagged and almost choked, but somehow got it all down. When he was allowed to hold his head upright again, he found it quite the effort to do so. His brain felt fuzzy and full of cotton. There was a weird glittery filter over the world. He felt far more relaxed, despite the pounding point of tension persisting at the back of his mind. Any worry was now faint, like a distant star.

“Ford!” Stan shouted, but it was difficult to care that that was happening.

“Mhm,” was all he said in response, finally letting his head loll and his eyes close. “Mmm.”

“He’s just so TENSE all the time,” Bill explained casually. “This is how I get him to LOOSEN UP. And hey, I guess it makes it harder for him to YELL at you too. You’re welcome.”

“You’re sick, you three-sided freak!” Stan shook his fist, almost like a threat, as if he could do anything to the dream demon. “I’ll end you!”

“DOING AWAY WITH THE PRETENSE, HUH?”

“Pretense,” Ford laughed for some reason, stretching himself across the full length of the couch and propping his head up with his forearm. This seemed to delight Bill, who began petting through the man’s hair.

“IT IS A PRETTY FUNNY WORD, ISN’T IT, IQ?” The demon swirled the drink a little and then brought it to Ford’s lips.

“Mhm,” Ford agreed, his response partially muffled by the glass as he sipped down more of the mysterious golden liquor.

“SEE? I enjoy the MENTAL SPARRING, don’t get me wrong, but sometimes that big brain of his gets in the way.” Bill affectionately tapped the side of Ford’s head as he let the quarter-full drink hang in midair. “ANYHOO.” He rotated to face Stan head-on; the movement was uncanny. “You should get back to the twins! Cook up another adorable scheme that’s doomed to fail! Sixer and I will watch from up here!”

“S’anley,” Ford slurred, shaking his head in protest, but he didn’t get very far in his thought before Bill pressed the rim of the glass to his lips again. “B- ill– please- I-I can… can’t…” The room was spinning now, violently, and he felt like he was going to be sick. It was like he was speedrunning a very bad hangover.

“SURE YOU CAN! Don’t worry, I won’t let you throw up.” Another pat on the head, and Ford groaned his distress as his throat bobbed and the last of the liquid disappeared down his esophagus.

“Unh… S’an… Stan…” His head dropped onto the couch, eyes struggling to focus.

“Sixer.” Stan started towards his twin, but before he could make it more than two steps, Bill snapped his fingers and Stan was gone, returned to where he’d come from. The demon sank onto the couch and arranged Ford until his head was on his lap (however much of a lap Bill had), fingers continuing to card through his hair.

“Come on. Don’t look at me like that, Fordsy. The relatives can come to visit another time.”