#oh for this place to be as inconsistent as the mystery shack

[comically-blu]

noticed a pretty funny small detail in the show & lost legends comics

apparently the Stan twins’ bunk bed used to be next to a window. After they were grounded by Filbrick, their bed was moved to the wall just as like show… Which implies Filbrick found out how they snuck out and their bed moved there. Makes sense, they weren’t exactly subtle on hiding evidence lol

Really shows how serious business that man was, yeesh- rlly brings the funny image of his shocked face before begrudgingly moving the twins bunk bed while they were gone having their own adventure

[paroxysmal-distaste]

proximity. || ch7, power

◬ Chapter 7 - Power ◬ ◬ Pairing: Bill Cipher x Fem! Reader ◬ ◬ Date Published: 26/08/2018 ◬ ◬ Word Count: 2.3k ◬

The ride home was a bit awkward.

For Dipper, it was obvious he was feeling conflicted on his thoughts about your character and for him, 'trust no-one' was a phrase he had turned into a personal mantra over the last few years. Aside from that, he was the driver so he could take the cart back to the Mystery Shack, but your brother insisted on a pit stop to the Northwest mansion.

You had tried to argue with him in private that returning to live with Pacifica was literally the stupidest thing he could do with his recent seizuring, and living with you could ensure that you could monitor him most of the time. He only waved you off, his bull-headedness riling you up as he went on about how he'll be fine and that you were being just as overbearing as your mother.

At this point, the sun was already beginning to set and a warm mist shadowed over the tops of the trees of Gravity Falls. You chewed your thumbnail as you tried to come up with something that could break the ice, unable to think of anything. Dipper's kind act of being your ride was something you were once again grateful for, but your paranoia continued to seep in as you reassured him dropping you off a few minutes away was more than enough.

"Thanks Dipper." You waved at him goodbye, watching as he pursed his lips and retreated, his skinny form in the cart getting smaller and smaller into the distance.

Pacing back and forth in front of your drop-off place lasted longer than you had realised. The time on your watch seemed to tick by in a flash, with the night suddenly growing much colder, another fascinating inconsistency you had realised was from Gravity Falls.

Your brisk walking involved you holding one elbow with your hand, fingers held below your chin with a never-resting brain racking itself to provide the next best step from here.

That monster that you saw leave the portal... the one Dipper reported was leaving wounds across people's bodies... you needed to take it back to where it belonged. From whatever hell it crawled out of- from the gateway you opened.

It's my fault... that people got hurt.

You bit your lip, trying to stop yourself from tearing up, so instead you sniffled and shook your head to wave away the guilt.

Your voice was quiet as you spoke to yourself, distracting yourself with all the things you had encountered in this town that you set aside for later. With B/N gone, thinking was much easier, but of course, lonelier. His presence was definitely needed in order to relaunch the portal, as he had sucked up all of its power.

If he splits off, would his duplicates have the same powers? Would he be able to single-handedly (kind of) regenerate the portal with him..selves?

Getting halfway across town to see him was another issue- you weren't comfortable with consistently asking Dipper for a ride whenever you needed one and you didn't wanna push his buttons, especially since he was very open about his thoughts about you and your existence in Gravity Falls. You needed your car back to travel, and every thought back to your Dad's old Pontiac Fiero, not only busted but missing from view, was another weight on your consciousness.

A lingering thought at the back of your mind whispered to you that maybe no one actually stole your car. Maybe the forest itself consumed it, swallowing it into the depths of its stomach of leaves and flexible plants. It wasn't far fetched.

You shivered, face contorting into discomfort at the very idea. You had only wondered into the forest deep enough once, and that was when you encountered the st-

Oh, the statue!

That pressing curiosity and fascination of yours involving all things mysterious and unexplained only persisted more at the consideration of this statue's origin. Your feet were already walking for you, paving the way into a direction you weren't familiar with quite yet. In fact, your sense of direction was very messy, and honestly, you had no idea where you were going. You assumed it was near the Mystery Shack, but that growing fear of the forest's sentience actually attracted you into its headquarters in the opposite direction.

Within a few minutes, you had already lost track of the road. The surrounding environment had grown coarser, darker bark, untouched and raw, with poisonous mushrooms and baby frogs littering the edges of remote ponds.

You jammed your hands in your pockets and grimaced, the cold temperature freezing and losing all the feeling in your nose. The air seemed to have gotten thinner and you felt some difficulty breathing. The very influence of Gravity Falls was one you hadn't quite realised was that strong until now. Here you were, walking around idly in a completely foreign place at night in the hopes of coming across a statue you saw almost a week before. The behaviour was just weird, and uncharacteristic of you. You swore, this place plays with your brain.

"What a way to pass time," you said aloud, pinching your eyebrows together, wobbling slightly after stepping over a large branch with magenta ooze flowing out of its hollow.

Pausing suddenly, you felt a pang of nostalgia, and your head shot up, immediately alert. Uncontainable excitement bubbled in your chest.

I've been here before.

A familiar glow wavered from behind a couple of dark, shallow trees, diagonal from where you were facing. You couldn't recognise the forest surroundings itself, almost as if they shifted the shape and design of their leaves, however, the glowing aura in the distance wasn't new.

The wind's speed was harsher, blowing your hair to the left and tangling and intertwining the strands through one another. You pushed apart the leaves and branches from between the trees and watched as the glow brightened, almost responding to your closing distance. You winced when your finger slipped across a pointed branch, shaking off the numbing of the cold air and the huff of water vapor escaping your mouth.

Your eyes widened in intrigue, when the glow responded to your shaky breath, and in return, you responded more and more adamantly to its calls. The blocking boughs in your path were somehow appearing more and more often, and for a moment, you thought it was never going to end- that you wouldn't see this light at the end of this metaphorical tunnel.

It wasn't your imagination this time - you could hear multiple voices whispering, beckoning you into the lap of something ominous.

To go forward, to shake the hand.

The hand?

Pushing and bending the sharp branches resulted in a light cut on your right palm. You hissed, your eyes narrowing at the clean red line on your hand, the action almost snapping you out of the trance. But you were immediately pulled back into it after you watched your hand seal up in an instant, almost as if you never injured yourself.

"Wha— what?" you spluttered, blinking and rubbing one of your eyes with your free hand. The sight before was true- it did heal instantaneously. A slight tingling feeling touched your wrist, and surprise and curiosity drove you even further until finally, finally, the glimmering statue under the moonlight stood in front of you, awaiting your arrival.

The statue had a glint in its only eye, an odd shape of the well-known triangle outlining the rest of its form. Its hand outstretched in front of you seemed welcoming, even happy to see you, happy that you had intentionally sought out its company. Despite the lack of expression on its face, all you needed to know about its behaviour was seen in his appearance, the expectant hand extended for any person willing to help it. It seemed almost...vulnerable.

You slowly lifted your hand up and wandered closer to it, tracing your finger across the edge of its stone top hat, a feature that made you raise your eyebrow with a smile. The edge of the ground, covered with dirt with a bowtie peeking from below, also matted with growing moss, much like the rest of its figure.

"You're... intriguing." You said aloud, pacing around it and trying to make something of its surfacing. Your back faced it momentarily, until you spun around and extended your hand out, "I'm Y/N. Y/N L/N." With the silence replying after, you grinned, shaking your head at your action, "God, this is sad." The self-pity within you forced you to sit atop a large stone running a hand through your hair timidly. The atmosphere around was quiet and still, and you became self aware of the floor in front of you.

Your eyes trailed to the moonlight shining directly onto its hand.

"What if...I just..." You stood up again, shifting closer to the stone being embedded into the ground. With not another moment of hesitation, you slipped your hand into the statue's. In mere seconds, you could feel your entire hand enveloped in that same tingling feeling from earlier, like it was wanting this hold forever.

Your thumb carefully brushed again the statue's as you watched both your hands go up in flames, your mouth dropping open as the grip on your own hand tightened and simply refused to let go. Panic struck through you and you began tugging anxiously at your wrist, as if the hand would suddenly loosen its grip, pitifully staring at you through its one eye at your pathetic form struggling to escape. You sucked air through your teeth when the tingling turned into burning.

This time, the flames went from blue and quickly transitioned to F/C.

With a yell, you managed to free and retract your hand and instinctively you rubbed your wrist bone, the pain coursing through the rest of your body as you did so. The burning sensation resulted in the sudden drop to your knees and a hold of your stomach, groaning and shutting your eyes tightly.

The next few events were one of the most horrifying- a feeling you couldn't possible explain using words in common English. A lightness of air formed around your body, almost... levitating, and you swore, you could swear you felt every single one of your atoms being grabbed and pulled apart - stretched, rebuilt, rearranged.

There was doubt that you were even breathing, that or you were holding the longest breath known to man because this felt like an eternity.

The burning had then disappeared but was replaced with an inconsistent aching across your entire body. You concluded that your poor, worn out and stretched molecules finished switching around and finally settled.

A gasp escaped your lips as your body descended from the air, suddenly dropping and forcing you to let out a cut-off wheeze as the wind was knocked out of you. Subtle.

You weren't sure how long you laid there. It must've not been for long, because a spreading presence made itself known before you, and you had no time to respond and process the new feeling of power coursing through your veins. It seemed like you looked the same, hands, clothes and all- but you most certainly didn't feel the same. Some new power, new priority flowed through you. You glanced at your wrist and watched as your veins - a F/C hue died down in its glow, just like when you powered the portal.

This new found strength made you feel incredibly different. An indescribable feeling that you had never experienced before- one you were sure no one had felt before. But your attention then turned to the thing in front of you.

For one, the statue that had clamped down on your hand was gone.

In its place was... something else.

You watched as what was once the one-eyed statue stood silent on top of the ground rather than in it, its back facing you. The moment you realised you were petrified was when you attempted to push yourself to your feet, but you were frozen.

"I'm... I'm back! I guess Big Frilly held up his end of the deal! I'll be damned if I ever call on that slimy—"

The entity was in the midst of turning around, and he faltered at the sight of you, laid on the ground, palms digging into the ground shakily holding you up. You were trembling, and it marvelled at the sight. It's pupil dashed around everywhere momentarily, taking in its surroundings before locking it onto your own. Your mouth was still left agape, your attention brought back only when a chill ran down your spine.

When it landed its eye on you, it's eyebrow furrowed, seemingly forming a connection between you and his return.

"Nice eyelashes," You blurted, your hand clamping itself over your mouth in a second, a comment he had not expected to leave your face. Instead, it hoped you were trembling like a leaf in fear, not in fascination when he noticed the corners lips curled up slightly.

It stared at you, floating up higher and higher until it's entire body was hovering above you, the moonlight shining through him. The light-emitting from behind it made it much more menacing. Your subtle smile dropped.

Regret, regret, regret.

Its mood seemed to have changed, and you hastily scrambled to scoot away, your fingernails pressing themselves into the dirt.

"W-what... who are you?" You managed to let out, surprised at your own voice and your ability to maintain your composure. He squinted at you, in some sort of suspicion. Shouldn't he be thankful? You just freed it from what seemed to be its personal prison.

He took a moment of observing, but he seemed to finally think of something to say. He closed his eye, adjusted his crooked bowtie, opened up again and stared at you.

It stretched it's hand out and shoved it into your face and said, "Of course! How rude of me to not introduce myself. Name's Bill Cipher!"

[rum-and-shattered-dreams]

Oh Boy...  I’m Finally Writing This Thing... Heroism is Subjective - Prelude

The fic that goes with this AO3 Link Summary: An AU fic where what Ford was hiding under his sweater was a last-ditch method of defeating Bill once and for all. With all other efforts exhausted and time running out on the containment of Bill's chaotic devastation, he knows what must be done and that there's no chance he will make it through alive. The only problem is that for first time in thirty years, he doesn't want to merely survive for the sake of repairing his mistakes, he wants to live. Notes:  This is a fic I had originally started in the (relatively) short hiatus before the finale. Going back to try to work on this has been rather difficult since I had to put myself back in that mindset of not knowing so many things including how the series would end. I've tried to stay true to the original AU idea as much as possible so I'm sorry if there are inconsistencies with canon or disappointments because certain things from canon (cough cough The Shacktron cough cough) aren't included. (Though, apparently I did get in the ballpark with the appearance of a giant robot and totally nailed that Bill was showing Ford visions with that promo shot of him looming over a galaxy. But the funny thing is that I actually tortured Ford less than canon did which, believe me, is saying something O_o.) Additional note: This fic is purposely vague about everyone's future families so readers can headcanon what they like as far as who married whom. I wanted to keep this as much of a gen fic as possible so have fun filling in the blanks with whatever you like. And now for the main attraction, several thousand words of solid pain. Please accept a complimentary virtual hug and box of tissues...

December 2043 Dipper had barely climbed out of his slush-spattered SUV when a flash of pink and purple slammed into him and powerful arms wrapped around his neck.  Mabel's quilted coat sleeves squished against his cheeks as she squealed in delight, "Dipper!" "Ha ha, good to see you too, Mabel" his greeting squeaked mid-way through with an extra squeeze of her arms.  He returned her overzealous death-grip of a hug before having so much as a moment to survey his surroundings.   Seemingly out of nowhere, two more sets of arms wrapped around the twins as the joyful voices of his parents parroted Mabel's enthusiastic greeting. "Mom!  Dad!  You made it!" he remarked, "How has Florida been treating you?" "Pretty decently," his father answered, patting his back. "Oh, be honest, dear," his mother added, "That last hurricane had us huddled up in a closet and wishing we were back on the west coast." "I'm glad you didn't end up with any damage to the condo," Dipper commented, soaking in the warmth of his parent's arms surrounding him and his twin.  In that moment, television producer and paranormal researcher, Dr. Mason Pines, shed the constricting exoskeleton of professionalism and reveled in the nostalgia of his childhood and the love of his family.  The group released each other and Mabel and his parents took turns hugging his family members as they emerged from the passenger and back seats.   Dipper smiled as he watched the moody are we there yets of a long drive melt into gushing about the warmth and fluffiness of the scarves Mabel had made for everyone.   "Not everyone can say they have a scarf made by the designer!"   "These are so cool!  Everyone back home is super jealous that I have an M.Pines original!" He turned back to the SUV, ready to pop open the trunk and unload his family's luggage but a shaky hand on his shoulder triggered a pause. "Hey kid.  Good ta' see you again." "Grunkle Stan!"  Dipper whipped around, catching his wobbly great uncle in his arms. "Grunkle Stan, I thought I told you to stay inside where it's warm!"  Mabel scolded him with an outstretched finger and pouted lips.  Her concerned "You could have slipped and fallen!" and "Why didn't you at least use your walker!" faded as he waved a hand at her dismissively.   "Psh.  I get around fine without that rickety thing.  'Sides, I got impatient.  Couldn't wait any longer to give you this," he joked, wrapping an arm around Dipper's neck and rubbing his gnarled knuckles in his hair.  His voice creaked and rasped, weathered by a blur of holidays, summer vacations, and, Dipper suspected, from the source of the smoky musk clinging to his hair.  His arms, once a powerhouse of punches, felt bony and thin beneath his sheepskin coat, his grip retaining less and less strength with every playful choke hold and noogie, yet, Dipper played along, bending nearly halfway over to surrender.   "Aw, I'm glad to see you too," he said, giving his great uncle a few moments of triumph before carefully freeing himself from his grip and wrapping both arms around him. "What is this, a hug?" Stan grunted, as he always did. "Yeah.  Yeah it is.  You got a problem with that?" Dipper joked. "Smart mouthin' me, huh?  I'm proud of ya, kiddo," He replied, patting Dipper's back.  "Proud 'a ya both," he added, reaching up to pull Mabel into the hug.  He released them, stepped back for a moment to appreciate their presence before him, then threw his arms around them again, holding them tightly for a moment and releasing them with some reluctance. Stan took turns hugging and greeting the others with two hugs each while Dipper and Mabel unloaded the trunk.  After handing out suitcases and bags to every open hand offering to carry something, Dipper closed the trunk, shouldered his messenger bag, and rolled his own suitcase along the ice-spotted path cleared between snowdrifts, looking ahead to a familiar sight.  Thirty years had brought Dipper and Mabel growth, failure, new family members, exciting technology, and a dusting of gray hair but one thing remained constant, a rock where he and his family could tether their drifting rafts every holiday season, The Mystery Shack.   Blanketed in snow and nestled between towering conifers, the only change the shack had seen, repairs aside, was thirty years ago, when anything too reminiscent of a certain demon had been stripped from the structure.  Amber lights flickered through orange and green stained glass, inviting the visiting family in from the biting flurries drifting down from a blanket of clouds above.  Even so, Dipper's shoulders sagged as one mournful memory threatened to drown out laughter fueled water balloon fights, celebratory fireworks shot toward the horizon, snowball fights in the forest, and monster movie nights spent together in the warm glow of the television.  He tried to smile past it but his sagging posture betrayed him. "Hey, Dipper,  It's okay," Mabel whispered to him, her shoulder tapping against his as the lag in his stride allowed her to catch up, "I know it's still hard for you sometimes." "Yeah, kiddo.  It's...  It's rough sometimes," Stan added, his head lowered and one arm locked with Mabel's for support. "I try to remember all of the good times but sometimes..." Dipper trailed off, his vision locked on a cleanly shoveled square in the snow where a stone engraved with the words "Heroism is subjective." marked the center of a tan and brown mosaic depicting a zodiac circle.   "Yeah, me too, kid.  Me too," Stan agreed softly, his voice hitching between words.  After a pensive pause, a smile lifted his cheeks and he looked up to Dipper, wagged a finger at him and added, "But save the spiel of asking me if I'm okay staying here.  I'm just as fine with it now as I have been the thirty-thousand other times you two have asked.  Soos and Melody have been takin' good care of the place and of me too, if you must know." "I'm glad to hear that," Dipper replied, shifting the strap crossed over his chest. "Me too," Mabel added, resting her head on Stan's shoulder for a moment.  She had become closer than ever to him in the five years preceding her fashion line's explosion in popularity.  Thanks to his offer to live in the Mystery Shack for as long as she liked, she was able to quit her day job and focus on her designs.  With his experience in running a business, he helped her set up her own and ran the administrative portion until she could afford to hire an assistant.  Despite his protests to any form of repayment, he regularly received new coats and sweaters in the mail along with lengthy, hand written letters, drawings, and cards.   "Oh, by the way, Grunkle Stan," Dipper said with a light grunt as he hoisted his suitcase onto the porch, "Thanks for coming all the way down to LA for the graduation ceremony.  We were all so happy you could make it." "Well, of course!  I had to be there for the two of us, ya know," He answered, nodding toward the mosaic. "Yeah," Dipper replied with a melancholy smile, holding the door open for his sister and Great uncle, "He's still with us everyday, isn't he?" "Damn straight!  And if he ain't, when we meet again, I'm gonna yak his ear off with thirty years worth of stories.  Yer gonna have to bury me with one'a Mabel's scrapbooks so I can show him all the photos." "Heh, yeah," Dipper muttered with an awkward laugh.  It was hard enough losing the grunkle who made him feel less alone, who threw aside his work to play their favorite game together, and who praised him for being who he was.  He didn't want to so much as imagine the inevitability of losing the grunkle who taught him how to fight, who gave him the strength and confidence to follow his dream, and who sent him letters every week when he was struggling with anxiety in his first year of college. Yet, as much as Stan joked about the topic, he certainly had luck to spare in continuing on year after year.  He'd kept his promise to his brother that he'd live a long and happy life, that he'd defy death out of pure spite, if necessary, to live for them both.  Every hug became two hugs, one from each of them.  Every family event was met with twice the pride and enthusiasm.  Yet, he still allowed himself space to grieve, space to rest, space to sometimes simply not feel up to doing anything, and space to be himself.  It only took Mabel saying, "He'd understand," and Dipper adding "He'd want you to do what makes you happy and keeps you healthy," once for Stan to concede.  Though it took time, they all learned to find a balance between loving their lives and respecting the family member torn from them too soon. Dipper shook the thoughts away, settling himself into a lighter mood, and glanced around the Mystery Shack's hallway, a smile spreading on his face as he lifted his head, sniffing the air like a cat waiting for its dinner.  The smell of fresh baked cookies intertwined with the sound of Soos and Melody's laughter lilting from the kitchen's open door. Stan whispered something akin to an apology to his walker before sitting on it's knit-covered seat with a groan.  He looked up to Dipper, noticing his audible sniffing, and said with a wink, "That's my recipe they're using in there, ya know." "Your chocolate crisp one?" He asked, brushing the rapidly melting snow flurries from his shoulders, "No wonder it smells so good-" "Hey Dipper," Mabel elbowed him gently, "You know..." her gravely whispered tone dispelled his attempt to lighten the mood.  "I think the kids are all old enough that we could tell them what really happened that summer...  If you want." "You think so?" he asked, tugging his gloves off, "I guess it would be good.  We don't want to keep secrets, right?" "Yeah."  She shrugged off her coat and hung it on a peg beside the door.  "Grunkle Stan?  Do you think you'd be alright to tell the story?"  She bent down to help him wiggle one arm out of his coat, "I know it's tough for you but you're the best at keeping all the pieces together." "I guess so," he answered, slipping his other arm out of his coat and handing it to Mabel, "I mean, you two are right.  It's not fair to keep this from them.  They hear about him from me sometimes, they deserve to know who he was and why it's important to me to hug them for him all the time."  He looked up to the twins and smiled, "I mean, he is a part of this family too right?" The twins nodded in unison, Mabel's answer of "damn right," overlapping Dipper's, "Of Course." "After dinner then.  Everyone will be together. That'll be a good time to tell them what really happened to Ford."