#flipping off Bill Cipher

[thewiglesswonder]

no idea if this is big brain or not but belos and bill having to pretend to be pals because ford is their mutual sunshine boy. being all friendly until ford looks away and then they want to kill each other

Actually, I see their interactions with Bill happening more like this:

If this is set in the period where Ford is dimension hopping all over creation, this is after he figured out that Bill was up to no good. Their mutual hatred for him is part of what bonds them together.

#they would also both flip him off in the middle of making out for the record #asks #my art #the owl house #gravity falls #belord #stanford pines #ford pines #emperor belos #belos #philip wittebane #bill cipher

[error-dark]

Bill had enough.

Thought of this as a joke. Though, this could be very effective for whenever Bill finds himself dealing with bs he didn't asked for.

#artists on tumblr #fan art #art stuff #digital art #art #gravity falls #bill cipher #bill flipping people off #joke #bill had enough #dumb doodle

[ckret2]

Chapter 24 of human Bill Cipher being the Mystery Shack's extremely inconvenient prisoner, featuring: the Pines figuring out a way to chase off Bill's ex-girlfriend... who happens to be a giant eyeball with bat wings.

It kinda goes like this.

(A head's up before we get going: this chapter is a bit more mature than prior ones, so I feel like a warning's in order. There's no sex, and nothing here is erotic or sexy (unless you, too, happen to be attracted to eye-bats), BUT there IS some academic speculation on the logistics of alien sex, and some very filthy-sounding dialogue describing acts that, to humans, aren't sexual at all. Plus some dirty humor and toilet humor. And nothing here is what I'd call billford quite yet, considering Ford still very much hates Bill's guts—but like, he's definitely a little too obsessed with the anatomy of triangles for it to be normal. If any of this is too spicy for you, skip this chapter and come back next one. We'll be starting a new "episode" then.)

####

It was past midnight. In his search for the eye-bat repellant recipe, Ford had flipped through every notebook he'd used during his initial interviews of the residents of Gravity Falls, flipped through them a second time, torn apart half his bookshelves looking for any reporter's notebooks he might have accidentally sorted in with his larger binders, and now he was exhausted, frustrated—and, worst of all, bored out of his mind.

Which made it hard to avoid thinking about more interesting topics.

And for the last hour he'd been unwillingly plagued with the question of how an eyeball and a triangle had a "casual physical thing." 

If that didn't mean sex—and you never knew with aliens—then it was still something close enough to fill the same social/recreational niche. It certainly meant sex on the eye-bat's side, Ford had fully documented the reproductive cycle of eye-bats, that was sorted out—but triangles?

It had to be something that would work in the second dimension. Ford had visited a two-dimensional universe populated by geometric shapes, he knew roughly how their bodies functioned: a shape's perimeter was its external surface—its "skin"—and its internal organs were inside that perimeter. So if Bill was still configured the way he had been in his home dimension, any external reproductive anatomy would have to be somewhere on his perimeter, right? Maybe at one of his corners? Or camouflaged where the seams of his brick pattern reached his edges?

But then if Bill were a normal two-dimensional person, he'd have his eye on the edge of his body, not right in the center of his "internal organs." So he'd been rearranged to some extent. Who knew how the rest of his body worked now? His top hat contained flesh and a skeletal structure; maybe it was a removable reproductive organ that could be passed to a partner, like some cephalopods' detachable tentacles—

Ford flinched as he realized Bill was staring at him.

To aid in his anatomical speculation, Ford had drawn a diagram of Bill in his journal and labeled various points on the triangle that might be concealing reproductive anatomy. He quickly scratched out the drawing's staring eye and slammed his journal shut. 

He'd happily gone thirty years assuming that Bill had no sex life—Bill was an energy being who presented himself as a floating featureless triangle, his hobbies involved cheating at chess and discussing multidimensional transportation, he probably wasn't designed for "physical things," and if he was designed for it then surely he wasn't interested. Ford was not pleased to have his assumptions disputed.

Because the thing was—Ford knew more than any living human about the mating rituals of unicorns, werewolf/mermaid couples, stomach-faced ducks, and tentacled warrior piglets. (Did he ever know about tentacled warrior piglets.) He had the only photos of a gnome mating ball, which he didn't need, because that horrible sight would be forever seared into his long-term memory. He knew the names of twenty obscene acts in siren sign language, and knew how to use his extra fingers to make them extra obscene. This wasn't unfamiliar territory to him. He was curious about how strange, supernatural creatures functioned; and those functions included how the reproductive drive influenced their behaviors; and a living triangle that had escaped from the second dimension was certainly a strange supernatural creature.

But, unfortunately, it was also Bill Cipher. And Ford did not want to think about what Bill did in bed. ... Assuming he used a bed. Really, at this point the only thing Ford knew was that Bill's only admitted partner was capable of flight. Maybe he just hovered while he—

Ford slammed his journal shut again to stop himself from scribbling down more theories, then stuffed the journal in a desk drawer for good measure. Did normal people think like this? He had no idea. He didn't even know who he could ask.

Enough of this. Back to searching for that eye-bat repellant recipe, and this time he wasn't stopping until he found it.

####

Like a vast eye in an upside-down triangle, the circular center of the portal lit up so bright blue it was almost white. The four energy vents glowed in sympathy. A rainbow constellation lit up in twirling patterns around the central light.

Bill watched with bated breath, a second-dimensional shadow waiting for his door to the third dimension to open. The cavern walls shook; the ground quaked and rumbled ominously; Bill didn't care. The portal was stable, the lab was somebody else's problem, and Bill had a party to get to.

The steel beams supporting the cavern rolled like a wave, and Bill's stomach roiled with them. They weren't supposed to be able to move like that. But he knew what he was doing, the portal was stable, he was not here to destroy this world, he'd come here to save it, whether it wanted to be saved or not—

The whole world undulated. Bedrock and steel were not built to undulate. Bill bobbed on the energy wave like a toy boat on a choppy sea; but the steel shattered, rock crumbled, shrapnel and rubble sprayed out. There was a peal of deafening thunder as the world below him cracked apart.

####

Bill woke with a gasp.

Oh. Right. Dreams.

Dream diary. With a groan, he sat up, checked to make sure no humans were coming by in the next few minutes, and pulled his stolen journal out of its hiding place.

The guide on lucid dreaming had recommended writing down his dreams in full, vivid, rich detail—any people or scenes or events, anything he could detect with his five (?) senses, as much as he could recall.

He drew a portal—gray inverted triangle with a center circle, four circles around the triangle, all five circles filled in yellow green—and then a yellow green line trailing out of the portal's side that grew progressively wigglier like a seismogram. He labeled his doodle, "this." He'd remember the rest.

After a moment of thought, he wrote, "Don't remember if I was a human or a shape. My organs were doing things a shape's shouldn't." (He wrote "human" as 人; there was no translation for the word in the language Bill wrote in. The two angled strokes stood out in Bill's rows of Morse-like dots and dashes.) "Being around so many humans who are CONVINCED I'm trying to destroy their world must be getting to me. Sixer pitched another hissy-fit about the portal yesterday. Enduring all that negative talk can't be healthy for me. I know I'm just helping their boring little planet, but maybe their accusations are getting lodged in this stupid brain's subconscious."

Maybe he should meditate a bit—go think positive thoughts, drown out the mortal voices that insisted they knew his plans better than he did. He'd had enough dreaming for one night, anyway.

Beneath the note to himself, Bill added in English: "Everything would have been fine if you'd just let me finish, Fordsy." If the humans ever did find this journal, Bill was determined to get the last word in.

Then he stowed away the stolen journal and shuffled downstairs.

He wondered how much was left of Ford's portal.

####

Old man bladder. Stan dragged himself out of bed. The other guest room bed was empty. Stan hoped Ford was sleeping in his study—he'd mentioned once he kept a cot down there. Better than pulling another all nighter studying alien sorcery or whatever.

He skipped his glasses, groped his way to the downstairs bathroom, and, yawning, lined up with the toilet.

The toilet said, "Pretty forward of you, Stanley."

Stan screamed.

He stumbled backwards out of the bathroom and hit the wall. Bill flipped on the light and leaned out to grin at him. "Careful! You're due for a broken hip any day now."

"BILL! What are DOING!"

"Trying not to get urinated on."

"Jsh—shut up!" It had dawned on Stan that if he could hear Bill without his hearing aids, then half the house probably could too. He hoped no one had overheard that. "Why are you sitting on the toilet in the dark!"

"It's a free country, Stanley Pines."

Stan raised a fist. "GET OUT!"

Bill bolted from the bathroom like a scared rabbit, then caught himself, rolled his eyes, and raised his hands over his head in mock surrender. "You could have asked nicely!"

Pointing at Bill as he retreated, Stan added, "And stop being so darn creepy! Lurking in the dark and sneaking around silently all the time, like a... some kind of—burglar ninja assassin!"

Bill turned to shout back, "What, do you expect me to make a peace cry every time I walk around? Make sure I can't sneak up and stab you in the back?"

Stan had caught about half of that. "YEAH, smart guy! It might help!"

Bill flung his hands out in defeat as he rounded the corner.

Stan finished his business, went back to bed, and glared angrily at the ceiling another ten minutes.

####

It had taken half the night, but at last Ford had disassembled the filing cabinet and found a few notebooks that had gotten stuck behind the bottom drawer, including the one with Old Lady Sprott's eye-bat repellant recipe. Ford copied it down, left a list of ingredients on the gift shop cash register for Soos, and finally dragged himself into the house to sleep.

And paused in the entryway.

Bill was sitting in the kitchen, staring out the window; Ford had seen him like this before. Usually, he could make himself walk by.

But he couldn't tonight. Maybe it was yesterday's conversation still weighing on his mind, the loose ends they hadn't tied up tangling around his throat. "What are you doing up?"

Bill's voice was inappropriately calm: "Dying."

Ford's guard went up. "Do you... Literally or metaphorically?"

"Literally," Bill said. "Hey—how many decades do you think this body's got? Probably not even a century, right?"

Ford's guard went down. Just moping. But it was an interesting question, one he'd put some thought into himself—what age had Bill's body been made at? How had his body been made that age? How long would the body last? Ford had wondered whether studying Bill's freshly-made-but-already-adult body might reveal anything medically useful about how aging affected the human body; but the odds of convincing Bill to participate in any medical studies—much less finding someone to conduct the study who believed their story—were nonexistent.

Ford said, "At a loose guess, I'd put you around... fifty, maybe? A very spry fifty." Bill's hair was a shockingly vivid gold, not a hint of gray, and when he was in a good mood Bill bounced about with an enviable lack of joint pain; but Ford had seen faint, delicate creases around his mouth and eyes that spoke to age. And the look in his eyes... Ford hated the phrase "old soul"—he'd been called that by some of his school teachers, and it only made him feel the distance between himself and his age peers all the more strongly—but with Bill, it was uncannily fitting. His eyes aged his whole face.

"You think this thing looks fifty? Wow." Bill took a deep drink from a cider can. "Shooting Star's best guess was half that. Thanks for shoving me twenty-five years closer to the grave."

Half that? When Ford had been a child, he'd had a harder time guessing adults' ages, and he supposed Mabel might be the same; but it was difficult to mistake a 50-year-old for a 25-year-old. Maybe there was something else going on. He'd have to ask her later. "With exercise, a healthy diet, and a little luck, you could still live another fifty." Ford nodded at the two empty cider cans already sitting on the table. "With your current drinking habits, I'll give you five."

Bill cackled—loudly enough to make Ford tense up, afraid someone would catch them talking. "Cheers!" Bill finished off the can and slammed it down with the others. "Ugh. Finite lifespans. Awful."

"Welcome to being human," Ford said dryly.

"'Welcome to death row,'" Bill said. "Ha! What'm I doing, worrying about decades. Let's be real, I don't even need to worry about the next five years. If I haven't found a way out of this body before then..."

Bill left the thought unfinished. An uneasy weight formed low in Ford's stomach.

"Ah, whatever. Like you'd let me live that long. Right, Sixer?" Bill pushed himself up unsteadily, keeping his balance first with a hand on the back of the chair, and then on Ford's (suddenly very tense) shoulder as he passed him. "I'm going back to sleep before that last can kicks in."

The way Bill was walking, Ford wasn't sure he'd make it up the stairs. "Why don't you sleep on the folding bed in the living room?"

"No window," Bill said. "I've g—" (He stumbled on the stairs.) "I've gotta see the stars."

Of course he did. When Bill said it that way, it was so obvious Ford didn't know why he hadn't realized that himself. Where else could Bill sleep but as close to the sky as possible?

Ford listened as Bill stumbled his way upstairs, creaked across the floorboards, and collapsed onto his makeshift bed.

Ford had thirty years left. Exactly thirty years. Don't have a heart attack, you're not ninety-two yet! Ninety-two was a good, old age. Older than his father had been. But thirty years felt too soon. And yet it felt fitting, somehow, for his life to be divided so neatly in thirds.

If Bill lived another fifty years in this body, and Ford lived thirty, who would stand guard over him? Would he and Stan have to pass that burden on to their gniece and gnephew? Or to Soos and Melody?

Why was he wondering—what made him think they wouldn't find a way to kill Bill before then? What made him think he wouldn't kill Bill before the end of this very summer?

What made him so sure Bill hadn't been lying about when Ford would die? Thirty years felt too soon; but ninety-two felt flatteringly optimistic.

Ford sighed, and picked up the cider cans to recycle.

He wondered whether Bill—hiding from his ex, fretting about death, sleeping on his enemies' floor—regretted how he'd spent his life.

####

Bill's second entry in his dream diary started, "Wet dream about Iris."

He filled most of a page with an extremely graphic summary before he sighed in frustration, stowed the journal away, and stared at the ceiling as dawn crept in. Well. Terrific. He was pretty intimately familiar with how humans coupled, but he didn't have much practice with the solo act. Plus the humans would give him heck if they caught him at it. He'd just have to suffer.

So here he was, all riled up and nowhere to go.

Who else could he make miserable?

####

Stan was startled awake by a heavy pounding on his door.

"Heeey Fisherman!" Somehow, Bill's voice was even more grating at dawn. He rattled the door several more times. "Just passing by! Wanted to let you know! Here I am! Right here!"

Did that demon ever sleep? And, follow up question, could Stan knock him out for a few hours?

Ford—who must have come up after Stan went back to bed—groaned and muttered something.

Ford wasn't nearly as loud as Bill. Stan reluctantly sat up and put a hearing aid in. "What?"

"What the devil is he up to now."

"No idea," Stan lied. "Go yell at him about it, he listens to you."

Ford sighed, but got up and left the room.

A minute later, Stan heard Bill exclaim, "I can't win with you people!"

He smirked.

####

The kitchen reeked that morning. When Stan came in for breakfast, the window was open, a fan in the entryway futilely directed fresh air into the kitchen and a fan on the kitchen table directed the noxious fumes outside, there were bags of groceries on the counter—he noticed hot sauce, peppers, cheap perfume, and an entire bag of raw onions—and Ford was standing at the stove, stirring a pot of vile-smelling brown liquid. The moment he saw Stan, Ford put him to work stirring the pot so Ford could start dicing onions.

While they worked, Ford explained the situation with the eye-bat harassing the tourists and the solution he'd hit on to drive it away. Soos had collected the necessary ingredients this morning, but couldn't help cook because he was busy finding a way to block the bottomless pit—

####

Outside, Soos scooted a trampoline up to the pit, carefully lined it up with the edge—the trampoline and the pit had nearly the same diameter—and shoved it in. It plummeted into the dark. After a short wait, Soos chucked a baseball down the pit. It disappeared, then bounced back up.

Soos pumped his fist triumphantly. "Aced it."

####

—so, Ford was working on the repellant, and in the interest of public safety and the greater good he was drafting Stan into helping too.

Which Stan supposed he couldn't argue with, but considering the smell he would've preferred dicing the onions. "Is all this really necessary for one eye-bat? I usually just swat 'em off with a tennis racket."

"This eye-bat happens to be large enough to carry off a first-grader," Ford said. "And Bill claims it's his ex-girlfriend, so I don't want to risk them meeting."

"Huh." Weird thing to date, but then Stan didn't know what he did expect a triangle demon to date. "Somehow I figured he was tangled up in this."

Ford laughed ruefully.

After a moment of chopping and stirring, Ford said, "Speaking of Bill—he claims that you ordered him to announce his presence? And that you tried to pee on him."

"I did not and he's a dirty liar! He made the whole thing up!" Stan didn't expect Ford to believe him. Stan also didn't expect Ford to believe Bill. Ford knew they were both liars. What Stan expected was for Ford to side with the person he liked best.

"Uh huh." Ford didn't question Stan further. Ha. Pines solidarity.

Even though he'd already won, Stan went on: "All I did was mention how quiet he is! I can never tell where he's lurking. Sometimes I almost forget he's here." In Stan's mind, Bill had been rapidly demoted  from "active existential threat" to "annoying houseguest who blends in with the shadows." Watching him help Mabel cut pretty pictures from fashion magazines with plastic safety scissors drained away most of his intimidation factor.

Ford gave Stan a funny look. "Really? I can't forget he's here for a second. Sometimes I swear I can tell where he's been in the house—like a cold spot left by a ghost."

Stan tried to figure out how to ask whether that was a reaction to decades on the run feeling like hunted prey—which Stan knew how to cope with—or a lingering magical side effect of Ford and Bill's alien possession deal—which Stan did not. Then Ford added, "It's probably because I hear him bumping into the furniture all the time."

"Oh. Yeah. That's probably it. You've got better hearing than me." Case closed. Stan turned back to the stove—

A deafening buzz made them both start. Stan splashed boiling brown stink across the stovetop. "What—!"

Standing in the doorway with a kazoo, Bill said, "How's that, Stanley? Do you like that better?!"

"YOU!" Stan flung the stirring spoon to the floor.

Bill bolted from the room with Stan in hot pursuit. "Whoa! Mercy! Truce! You can have the kazoo! It's not even mine, I'm just holding it for a fr— Ow ow OW ow—"

Stan hauled Bill in by the back of the neck and didn't let go until he was in the middle of the kitchen. He pointed at the spoon, then pointed at the pot. "Pick it up. Get stirring." He grabbed another knife and joined Ford chopping onions. Whew, what a relief.

Bill gave Stan a perplexed look, but picked up the spoon, gave the pot an experimental sniff, and got stirring. He didn't even wince at the smell. "Is this the gnome wizz? What is this, punishment for not letting you use me as a urinal?"

"Whatsamatter, I thought you were the one who thinks pee belongs in the kitchen."

"You're both too old for toilet humor," Ford snapped. "Bill, this problem is your fault, the least you can do is help prepare the spray, and you're not getting a knife, so you're on pot stirring duty. Deal with it."

Bill rolled his eyes dramatically. (At the moment, they were both uncovered; but one was already half squinted shut against the morning light.) "Fine, but only because I like hanging out with you."

Ford scoffed.

"And I don't see how this is my fault just because we happened to date. It's not like I invited her over," Bill went on. "If anything, you should be grateful she's my ex, or else I wouldn't be helping you chase her away—"

"Hey, that's what I wanna know about this," Stan said. He gestured toward the window; the ex in question was currently circling above the gift shop entrance, like a vulture waiting for something to die. "Exactly how do you 'date' an eye-bat? Just—how does that work?"

"Well, it depends on the eye-bat, doesn't it," Bill said, a touch patronizing. "They don't all have the same tastes, you know. But she happens to like art films and water parks. Easy date."

"I'm not talking about that! You're telling us you slept with an eyeball with bat wings—right? That's what we're talking about, right?" From the corner of his eye, Stan saw Ford giving him a sharp look, but he didn't tell Stan to stop. Yeah, the nerd was curious, too.

"Yes, Stanley." Bill's condescension was almost more overpowering than the kitchen's stench. "That's what we're talking about. I 'slept' with an eyeball with bat wings." He exaggerated the finger quotes around the euphemism. "Any more prying you want to do into my personal life, or...?"

"You look at that freak out there and think it's appealing?"

Bill stopped stirring and squinted out the window. Flatly, he said, "Yep. She's still drop dead gorgeous. Thanks for asking." 

"How do you even know that's a she! How can you tell a girl eye from a boy eye?"

Ford said, "Technically, Stanley, all eye-bats are female." He held up an onion and used his knife tip to gesture at it like it was a model eyeball, "They're parthenogenetic parasites that reproduce by attacking other species' faces and depositing egg-bearing spores on their eyeballs, which swim to the tear ducts to begin incubating. Over the next few weeks, the infected eyeball grows wings and develops its own nervous system while the host slowly goes blind in one eye, until the new eye-bat is mature enough to emerge from the host's socket and seek out her mother's colony—"

Bill let out a strangled scream. "Enough!"

Stan and Ford stared at him.

"Would you stop talking about eye-bat sex?! I'm already riled up! I don't need help making it worse!"

He slammed the stirring spoon down and started pacing. "I'm losing my mind. Do you know what it's like to be randy for something you don't have the right body for?!" He gave them a pleading, slightly crazed look. "I need to feel her pupil contracting against mine. I'd lick her hot, salty tears off her sclera. I'd bite deep enough to taste her retina. I want to look like I've got pinkeye from all the bat spores coating my face. I'd give my right eye just to have one of her wings fingering my eyelid again—but if I cave and go that far I know I'd lose my head and give her the left one too, and then I've screwed up, because STUPID HUMANS BODIES can't regrow their STUPID EYEBALLS—"

He kicked the wall so hard he lost his balance and stumbled back into the stove. "Ow. I'm going insane. I can't take it. I need to kill somebody. I need to set something on fire."

Stan and Ford were petrified. Stan's jaw had dropped.

Bill was panting from the exertion of his outburst, arms trembling, face flushed. His shoulders slumped. The picture of a broken man, he said, "I'd do anything to rim her optic nerve again."

Ford let out a strangled noise.

Bill took several deep breaths. He rubbed his forehead. "Sorry! Wow. That was... I think the fumes are getting to me." He shook his head. "The fumes and the hormones. Human hormones. You know, your species has very insistent..." He gestured vaguely toward the doorway. "I'm—think I should lay down."

Stan and Ford nodded. Bill trudged from the room. A few seconds later, Stan heard springs creak as Bill flopped his full weight on the living room sofa.

Stan and Ford exchanged a look. Stan said, "I shouldn't have asked about..."

"You shouldn't have asked."

"You should have skipped the science lesson."

"I should have."

They lapsed into silence. After a moment, Ford stood up to take over stirring the pot.

Stan resumed chopping onions. "Say, d'you think he staged all that to get out of stirring?"

Ford didn't reply.

"Sixer?" Stan glanced up.

Ford had turned away from the stove, and was staring at nothing with a faraway, troubled look. It was the look he got when he'd just latched on to some mystery that would haunt him until he solved it.

"Ford—?"

Ford slapped down the spoon and stomped into the living room. "But you hate losing your eyeball! So how did you two— I mean—! The spores—?"

"Incompatible biology." Bill's voice sounded muffled. "It's why we never got serious. She wants kids and my tear ducts can't incubate wings."

"Ah! Of course. That makes perfect sense." Ford returned to the stove with a look of triumph.

Stan didn't know how Ford had recovered from that fast enough to ask follow-up questions. Weird nerd. Stan shook his head but said nothing.

####

In Ford's journal, he scratched out most of his speculation about the anatomy of Bill's species, scribbled over the diagram, and added, "I severely underestimated how much his eye is involved."

####

At one point, during Weirdmageddon, when Bill had been torturing Ford for information, Ford had spat in his eye. Bill had licked it off. He'd seemed eerily undisturbed.

Ford would probably wonder how Bill had interpreted that act for the rest of his life.

####

Outside, dressed in a homemade hazmat suit consisting of painter's coveralls and a scuba mask, Soos faced off against the eye-bat, a spray bottle strapped to each hip like a cowboy's revolvers. Dipper and Mabel stood behind him, armed with a rake and a golf club, wearing a bicycle helmet and a football helmet with tree branches taped on. The eye-bat stared them down warily.

Leaning on his elbows over the kitchen table so he could stare out the window, Bill said, "Bet you a hundred bucks she steals Questiony's hat."

Stan snorted. "I'm not taking that bet. You don't have any money."

Bill grunted and turned back to the window, just in time to see the eye-bat dive for Soos's face. Soos whipped out one of the spray bottles, dropped it, ducked down to retrieve it just as she swooped past where his head used to be, and lifted it in time to spray the eye-bat when she circled back to attack him again. She reeled off screeching, eye watering, pupil contracting. Bill winced in sympathy. Poor gal. And she didn't even have an eyelid for protection. But, hey—better for her to suffer than for Bill to risk getting caught in this body. He'd take someone else's pain over his own embarrassment any day.

"It seems to be working the same as it does on any other eye-bat," Ford said. "Good. Once she's gone, Soos and the kids can spray the rest on the roof. That should drive her off while keeping the worst of the scent away from the tourists."

Streaming tears, the eye-bat dove at the kids. They yelled in alarm. Dipper threw his rake at her and missed. Bill flipped up his eyepatch to squint at the battle with both eyes.

"What, do you see something?" Stan asked.

"Just appreciating her sphericality." Bill sighed wistfully. "That spray's gotta be excruciatingly painful—but, I've never seen her that wet before. Sure, we've fooled around with a little hot sauce a few times, but even then—"

"I'm sorry I asked."

Outside, Soos shouted, "Hey! My hat! Give that back!"

Bill wordlessly held a hand out toward Stan.

Stan smacked it away. "Nyeh."

As the eye-bat retreated toward the forest, Ford sighed in relief. "She's gone. It worked."

"You sound surprised," Bill said.

"Frankly, I can't believe that you gave us accurate information on how to get rid of her."

"What! You wound me! Why would I lie about that?"

"To trick us into doing something that strengthens her? To arrange an opportunity to meet her?" Ford suggested. "After all, as one of your Henchmaniacs, she could have helped you escape."

Bill's blood ran cold.

She could have helped him escape. SHE COULD HAVE HELPED HIM ESCAPE! He'd been so worried about not looking stupid or losing his eyes, when all this time—! He could have signaled Iris from the window, and—and the bottomless pit was right there, she could have carried a message to the gang—at the very least, she could probably open doors for him—and instead he just—when he could have—

He watched in despair as Iris's pretty little optic nerve vanished behind the trees.

No, Bill decided—no, getting her help was a terrible plan. If it was a good plan, he would have done it; so it was terrible. He had a better plan. What was his better plan?

"Come on, you think I need her? I've got all the pals I need right here—whether you're ready to admit it or not." He elbowed Ford. Bill had decided he'd wheedle Ford back over to his side, and he would. His survival depended on it. Now more than ever. "I've got a way out, don't worry about that—it's only a matter of time—and she's not part of the plan."

Ford scoffed. "Really. Last night you were moaning about being on death row."

"Wh—Hey! That was..." Not fair. He scrambled to revise his story.

"You're lying about something," Ford said. "If it wasn't how to get rid of her, then it was why you wanted to get rid of her. For all we know, maybe she wants you dead as much as we do."

"Yeah," Stan said, "the 'girlfriend' story sounds crazy enough to be true, but you seem like the kind of guy who has a string of exes who'd love to kill you." (He did, as it happened, but it wasn't his fault he kept falling for petty jealous psychos who hated seeing him thrive.)

Ford said, "If she hadn't been a danger to the tourists, perhaps I should have invited her in to talk."

Unbelievable. Even when Bill did exactly what he was supposed to, he was still the bad guy. "Fine, she was a notorious black widow and you saved my life, happy? Do you like that story better? I made it up just for you." He jabbed a finger in Ford's shoulder. "You know what your problem is? You're too paranoid. You can't trust anything anybody says. You'll only hurt yourself like that—"

Ford shoved Bill's hand away and stepped out of poking range. "I spent years unlearning the paranoia you gave me. And when I finished, do you know what I figured out, Bill? All along, there was only one person I shouldn't have trusted: you."

It stung, but only in a distant, impersonal way; like a hard slap on a numb cheek. Bill turned to give Ford a sour look. "At the lengths you take it to, I could tell you the sky is blue and you'd have to check."

Ford's gaze automatically flickered toward the window.

"Ha!" Bill angrily shoved the table against the wall as he stood up. "Thanks for taking care of my pest problem, boys." He stormed upstairs, flipping his hood up as he went. Ingrates.

####

The view out the attic window was more interesting than usual, mainly because there were three humans traipsing around on the roof spraying eye-bat repellant. From time to time Mabel came by to make funny faces at Bill through the glass; he did his best to one-up them. Once, Soos nearly fell off the roof and died; Bill hadn't laughed that hard since he was murdered.

Their return indoors was heralded by Mabel shouting, "Dibs on the shower!" and Dipper replying, "I take shorter showers, let me go first!" They pounded up the stairs. Mabel tried to take them two at a time, tripped near the top, and by the time she recovered Dipper was already in the bathroom. She groaned. "Augh! Not fair! I don't want to smell like onions and gnome pee!"

"Neither do I! I need it more, I haven't showered in two weeks!"

Bill wondered why Dipper got to go so long between showers without getting dumped in a cold tub in his sleep. (He knew why.)

Bill whistled to catch Mabel's attention. "Consolation prize." He waved a cheap perfume bottle toward Mabel. "We had leftovers after mixing the repellant. It smells like strawberry candy."

"You're my hero." Mabel took the bottle and sprayed it all over herself, in her hair, and under her sweater. "You need a shower too, you know."

"Sure, but until Dolores fumigates the kitchen I'll just blend into the background stink. I can put it off til tomorrow without anyone complaining."

"You're grossss." Mabel emphasized the hiss by poking Bill's arm. "Once I'm clean, I'm not talking to you until you've showered too."

"I'll be devastated."

"Those are my terms!" She kicked aside Bill's cushion-bed so she could sit under the window without stinking the cushions up, and settled back to wait for the bathroom. After a (very short) companionable silence, Mabel said, "It's too bad we had to chase off your ex. I can see why you like her."

Bill gave her a surprised look. "Can you?"

"Iris was so graceful!" Mabel said. "And murderous, but mostly graceful. Like an evil swan."

Bill laughed. "Yeah! Yeah, she is. Floats like a dream. If you think she's graceful in the air, you oughta see her in the pool. She's the only person I know who can make a cannonball look elegant."

Mabel gave him a sly grin.

"What?"

"Look at you. Yooou still like heeer." Mabel propped her elbows on the edge of the window seat and balanced her chin in her hands. "How did you meet Iris?"

For the last couple of days, almost everyone in the house had talked about Bill's ex like she was some kind of malevolent creature, rather than a person. He was used to outsiders talking about his friends that way—heck, most of his friends were malevolent creatures—but it grated all the same. (He missed home.) Just hearing Mabel call Iris by her name was a breath of fresh air. No one else had even asked if she had a name.

"I met her at a party," Bill said. "I'd just gotten a piano and was showing off, and she came by to ask about Earth music. She wasn't in my crew then—but the party was open invite, and everyone in that corner of the Nightmare Realm knew that if you wanted info on Earth, you came to Bill Cipher. So, we talked about waltzes and tarantellas, I played a little Beethoven, we hit things off..."

They talked until the bathroom was free and Mabel went to shower. Sweet kid. Hopeless romantic, though.

When Bill got out of this place, he was gonna find the first boy who would break her heart and kill him before they could meet. It was the least he could do for her.

####

The third entry in Bill's dream diary: "Shooting Star's cartoon is getting to me. I dreamed about the wolf and the cat arguing over who had to host someone's birthday party. The wolf refused to let guests into his enormous mansion, but the cat's house was burning down. They asked me how to resolve this. I told them the cat should execute the wolf as punishment for his inhospitality, take over his mansion, and wear his skin as the party host. The animals were so in awe of my wisdom that I was deified as god of the jungle."

That was not what he'd dreamed. The animals were so horrified at his suggestion that they'd tied him to a stake and forced him to watch as they threw the cat into the flames of her own house. He couldn't remember whether he'd dreamed that he was a triangle or a human.

He preferred his version. Once he'd regained control over his dreams, he could replay this one and make it end properly.

He'd get the hang of this in no time.

####

(You're legally required to tell me if you had a reaction to this one. Even if it's horror. Especially if it's horror.)

#bill cipher #human bill cipher #grunkle ford #ford pines #grunkle stan #stan pines #gravity falls #gravity falls fanart #gravity falls fic #fanart #my art #my writing #bill goldilocks cipher

[bae04xx]

Heyyy I just saw it post and like I couldn't resist sending in an ask (or request if you will)!! If you want to could you write a bill cipher (yes ik💀) x reader where he and the reader are dating but get into an argument and he just says/does sum really mean stuff?? Fluff ending tho please I can't take only angst lmao, for the reader i would pref a Fem reader but gn is fine to!! Also for bill could he be in his triangle form?? (I'm so sorry if this is a long ask💀💀) but yeah that's it!!

One last thing if you don't mind could I be the 😻 anon so like if I send a ask/message I will add that and yk its me!!

-😻

hey ofc, sorry don’t check my tumblr that often! i would love to :)

thanks 😻 anon :)

bill cipher x fem! reader

angst and fluff 🖤☁️

i grabbed my bags out of my car boot, harshly gripping them between my fingers, which the knuckles of began to loose their colour from the chill in the air. after shutting the car doors and locking it up i begin storming down the pebbled drive towards my little cottage of a home. i sigh as i drop my bags and twist the key into the lock. i walk into the warmth of my house- silence greets me. after a full day at work, a very busy day might i add, then running about 5 errands i expect my home to be as i left it, cleaned to perfection. my eyes squint at the crumbs left all over hallway’s floor, i walk through them and set my bags onto the kitchen’s table- only to see condiments and dirty dishes scattered on the counters.

i quickly put my food shopping away, then hastily clean the house top to bottom, from hoovering to polishing to mopping to cleaning all of his dirty clothes because god forbid he contribute anything to this house and take any weight off my already drowning shoulders. i bury my face into my hands and curl up on my sofa, after sitting like this for a few minutes i decide to sit up and distract myself, flipping through a few tv channels to find a decent one.

i wonder why i’m even here, i was only meant to be in gravity falls temporarily, after my mother decided i was too much for her, she shipped me off to live with my aunt for the summer- aunty suz, or as the locals called her, lazy suzan. she ran a diner, which i helped out with as my keep, and there i met the twins. i felt like mable understood me, she really helped me deal with my mental health and overcome it all. she was my bestfriend- until i fell for him. i made the stupid mistake of choosing bill cipher, a living breathing demon, over my bestfriend. and now i’m stuck in this hell hole- gravity falls.

“loving boyfriend my ass..” i mumbled, throwing the tv remote to the ground in frustration.

“what about me were you saying, peach?” he smirks, materialising out of no where, with a snarky expression.

“what the fuck have you been doing all day cipher? i work my ass off and i come home to the house a state?” i plead, standing up to be someone as tall as the floating figure.

“woah woah woah, don’t be so aggressive peach, calm it and remember who you’re speaking to,” he warns, i laugh at him.

“i do everything for you cipher, i have up my life for you and this is the thanks i get? no support, messing with my home and threats? i have every right to be angry at you, you always do this!”

“do what exactly, peach?” his eyes narrow at me, staring me down.

“fuck me over! you expect to be fed, even though you don’t need to eat and can make anything you want appear but no- i have to supply it for you, to clean in a clean house but it’s fine for you to constantly mess it up, and to leave for days at a time with no warning and then just appear back and expect me to be fine? and treat me like shit!”

“i can do whatever the fuck i want peach, whatever i want-“ he grabs me by the chin, “you listen to me, you’re a puppet in my hands, you’re lucky i’m even giving the time of day. you’re only around because i like you, and you’re so lucky i like you because do you wanna know what would happen if i didn’t?”

…

“you’d be dead, rotting your own personal hell. so show me a little respect? don’t forget your place.”

i push myself away from him, i regretfully look in my eyes, i don’t know what to do, so i just stand there, scared, confused, anxious yet angry.

“i’m going, don’t try and get in my head, i don’t want you there.” i announce, before storming off and grabbing my handbag.

“i’ll never get out of your head, you belong to me remember, you’re nothing without me.” he announced, as though he’s just next to me but he isn’t. i’m in the car, applying as much pressure to the accelerator as i can- and he’s no where near me. he’s in my fucking head again. i have no space, no boundaries, i’m not just me, i’m him too- and i have no choice. i can’t escape.

i break as hard as i can, in the middle of a road, no cars were within a mile radius of me, perks of living i. a quiet town. i scream, a blood curdling scream, my nails clawing into my h/c, tears stream out of my eyes. sobbing uncontrollably i feel an arm snake around me, pulling me close.

he’s shushing me, trying to calm me down as a shriek and cry into his chest, not sure if i should push him away or accept him embrace. his boney hands stroke my h/c and instantly calms me, not by my choice though- the bastard is in my head again.

“i’ve given everything for you bill.” i state, wiping my tears away, a dead look in my eyes.

“i’m sorry peach,” he hugs me tightly, “i know i’m shitty, but i’m so sorry.”

and he just holds me, let’s me stay in his arms, i focus on my breathing, as he plays with my hair, he whispers a small ‘i love you’ in my ear, i hum back to him, too exhausted to process what’s really happened.

i wake up in my bed, changed into my favourite fleecy pyjamas, a very worried demon next to me.

i yawn, stretching my arms up, turning to him i say “and how did i get here?” my voice a little gruff from sleepiness.

“you don’t think i was going to let you sleep in the car do you? what kinda demon do you think i am?” he replied in his usually snarky yet flirtatious voice.

“ah yes sorry, you’re such the gentleman- how could i forget,” i giggle back at him before rolling away to the other side of the bed.

“i really am sorry y/n, i’m gonna try more, for you peach,”

“i love you bill,”

“i love you more peach,”

a comfortable silence surrounds us, i sigh before deciding to get up, yet just as a i begin to take the duvet off me i get it pulled start back on.

“what’re you thinking for breakfast peach? my treat, you just stay snuggled up in bed,”

“i bought some croissants yesterday, they’re in the cupboard,” i muse, before grabbing my book off the bedside table. bill let’s out a laugh.

“my treat, you just wait and see what i’ve got planned peach!”

#gravity falls x reader #bill cipher #bill cipher gravity falls #gravity falls #x reader #bill cipher x reader #my first request #hope this is okay!

[frootbyethefoot]

saw the full "this is not a place of honor" message on wikipedia and instantly thought of this [ID: a gravity falls comic containing six digital images. the first image shows stanford pines, who is wearing a large tan coat, a light blue button up, a brown sweatervest, and dark blue pants. he in a dark cave filled and is holding a lantern. he is looking up towards something and looks happy. the text above him reads, in red, "This is not a place of honor."

the second image shows fords study cast in very little orange light. there are three pictures of bill cipher on the wall, all looking towards the desk in the middle of the room. on top of the desk is one of the journals, flipped open to a page covered in scribbles. the text reads, "What is here was dangerous and repulsive to us."

the third image is completely black. in white are the blueprints for the inter dimensional portal made up by the three journals, while on top of it, in a bright neon cyan, is a vending machine. the text reads, "The danger is in a particular location of a particular size and shape and below us."

the fourth image shows dipper pines near the top. he is wearing a white cap with a blue pine tree on it, a dark blue jacket, a red shirt, gray shorts, and black shoes. he is holding a laptop in one hand, and the other hand is being held out towards something and engulfed in a bright blue flame. below dipper is mabel pines. she is wearing a bright pink sweater with a pink cake and confetti on it, a yellow skirt, a yellow headband, and black shoes. she is holding the inter dimensional rift and looking down sadly. finally, towards the bottom is stanfords hand engulfed in a bright blue flame while shaking a small black stick figure hand. the background is all black or gray while the text reads, "The danger is still present, in your time, as it was in ours."

the fifth image shows the inter dimensional portal shooting a bright white light out of its opening. the text reads, "The danger is unleashed only if you substantially disturb this place physically"

the final image shows the third journal sitting on the grass. it's on the first page, which reads, "Property of-" the name being cut off. the text reads, "This place is best shunned and left uninhabited."]

#i cant draw anything silly i like dramatic comics too much... #i swear ill draw something nice at some point but until then #anyways! i like how this turned out #its always a good day when i get to focus on backgrounds/lighting more than characters :) #joeys art #gravity falls #dipper pines #stanford pines #mabel pines

[rock-dove-radio]

OC PROPAGANDA METHINKS!!!

I entered in the @lemon-demon-oc-tournament and here's the reasons why you should vote for my oc Socrates 💥💥💥

I have very good reasons methinks

Reason one: They can change sizes

They can be one (1) (☝️) apple tall or the size of a whale.

Observe

2. They're FLUFFY so you can SNUGGLE THEM and because they can be any size they can be your stuffed animal or your bed. You choose.

3. They make really good lemonade it gives you the same side effects as being high (for the first 5 minutes until you start hearing every lemon demon song at once in your ears for the rest of time)

4. Their voice claim is Lolbit!! OH MY GOD FIVE NIGHTS AT FREDDYS??? that's pretty cool man you should totally vote for them

5. They are basically Bill Cipher but way more epic and cool and litcherrally awesome (rainbow dash said so)

See here:

6. THEY ARE A COSPLAYER. THEY COSPLAYED MEDIC FROM HIT GAME TEAM FORTRESS TWO.

Observe:

7. THEY ARE LGBT AND AUTISTIC. Socrates is bisexual and polyamorous and non binary we love a bi Royal also they have autism they are just like me yippie ^_^

8. They have an AWESOME OC PLAYLIST WITH TALLY HALL AND OTHER AWESOME BANDS??? WHAT THE FLIP??? IT CONTAINS AWESOME SONGS FROM BEETLEJUICE THE MYSICAL???

9. They have toe and hand beans they will allow you to squish. Just once. A vote May give you more however.

10. They're really old help a grandparent out man

11. They have a lot of lore

LORE INCOMING

Basically Socrates is the Satan/God of the Idiot Control Now universe (lemon demon oc universe) and they have existed since the beginning of time!!! They basically have seen the fucking rise and fall of countless nations and all they do with that information is do a little trolling. A little tomfoolery. Like for a prank. They're your classic movie villain that's silly (ripoff of Hades from Hercules and Bill Cipher)

They bullied Shepherd Satellite (Touch Tone Telephone) in high school for being adopted now that's an epic prank right guys *gets a tomato to the face*

Anyway they have a lot more lore based off of Greek mythology but y'all ain't reading all that

12. Their paws squeak when they walk

13. Best friend of View Monster and Cabinet Man (Byte Polybius) maybe if you voted for Socrates you all could hang out ....

Anyway that will be all for me. SOCRATES FOR PRESIDENT I MEAN SOCRATES FOR MAYOR I MEAN SOCRATES FOR SENATOR I MEAN SOCRATES FOR SECRETARY I MEAN SOCRATES FOR WINNER OF TOURNAMENT tehre we go first try ^__^

(Btw this is all a joke you don't have to vote for me just have fun in the competition guys ^_^ good luck to all the contestants and early congrats to whoever wins. From the preliminaries I've seen everyone's ocs are very lovely and everyone's characters are perfect even if you don't win. Have fun in the comp! :]] )

#lemon demon #art #neil cicierega #lemon demon ocs #lemon demon fanart #lemon demon oc #silly #artists on tumblr #lemon demon tournament #lemon demon sona #GL GUYS :3 #this took too long #listen to rainbow dash gusy /nf /j

[timosaurus]

Bill cipher flipping you off with 10 hands

#bill cipher gravity falls #gravity falls bill cipher #bill gravity falls #gravity falls bill #bill cipher #gravity falls

[flatterverse]

wowie me showing off art, THIS is like general me lore.

note despite using like spacelander, and flatlander in my lore that's just general slang and not a specific species

some general lore for my version of flatland + spaceland. [feel free use, this is too fire to keep to myself]

The more spaceland interacts with flatland, the more corrupted and warped flatland gets from it's original intereptation and becomes more similar to spaceland.

from like color to other oddities. to becoming vaguely more 3d-ish. Though like the limit is kinda like game and watch in smash.

They always stay ridicliously thin, and can sort of "flip" to hide themselves in 3d spaces.

https://youtu.be/FbEMaZRB8Jc this is like the example

in my lore flatlanders can sort of become "betweenlanders" idk what to call them atm, but not quite flatlander or spacelander though it's not common.

Where alot of the more specific traits aren't seen like not being ridiculiously thin or just generally becoming more spacelander than flatlander. though they are generally seen by flatlanders and spacelanders as highly uncanny

below are like the stuff

1. the probably closest to being able to see a flatlander, the "base" form. inspired by our fellow @fatigued-dreams

2. kind of like the main good flatland movie, visble eyes

3. the other worse film of flatland. Gain color, and like thin "skin"

4. typically arms are developed, but sometimes legs instead. general lack of ability with newly gained limbs. Eyes and Mouth sort of merge bill cipher style. Patterns begin forming and more tougher skin begins developing. Eye also begins moving towards center

5. Kind of like molting, better ability with new limbs eye is more centerlized. A new mouth is beginning to form with newly gained gumms.

6. The not yet seen limbs are now here and are not the best at moving yet. mouth is developed forgor to draw it. gummy but teeth are coming in, often will chew on things impulsievly.

7. the awkward teenage stage, extra eyes or mouths start to sort of form while the flatlander sort of influences how they'll be.

8. Things really settle, usually will begin wearing clothes & sometimes small tuffs of hair will pop up.

9. More abnormal shapes not seen in flatland proper will typically be seen, and like tails or more visble ears will also be seen. typically increased hair growth

10. pico is like a final, but pretty much as developed as any flatlander will be though hardest stage to really reach as this stage is notable for being pretty hard to tell between a shapelander & flatlander unless they willingly show it off. has like added lungs or sacs to hold air or other things typically water or air to help them seem more 3d-y.

lmao y'all get my flatland lore dumps from da server here on tumblr

@fatigued-dreams I FORGOR TO FIX THE @ I just straight up copied my og text

#flatland

[princess-schez]

Fic: Sweet Dreams, Beautiful Nightmare - Chapter 7

Warnings: Some language, and just a short chapter overall. (Sorry) Genre: Bill Cipher/Reader fanfic Summary: The Reader has been plagued by violent nightmares for as long as she can remember. Deciding to move to Oregon for a simpler pace of life, it is there she meets the dream demon himself and begins to unravel a mystery connecting them both. Notes: N/A Fic under cut below.

Chapter 7. “He is very bad news,” Dipper said, waving his hands in emphasis before crossing them over his chest. Mabel, with a dreamy look still in her eyes, stated, "It's adorable that he has a crush on you," as Dipper looked at her skeptically. “All I know, it was just weird as hell,” you said as Dipper and Mabel joined you in your room, sitting on the floor beside the bed. “What else did he say or do?” Dipper asked. You rubbed your neck. “Uh, well, that was it,” you lied. You had purposefully omitted specific details of the encounter with Bill, knowing it wasn’t appropriate for two young teens. “Well, he said ‘those aren’t simply nightmares’ before he left, so I don’t know what to make of that.” The twins looked at you quizzically, and your face felt warm again. “I—I’ve had strange dreams as long as I can remember, and since I first decided to move to Oregon, they’ve only gotten worse. They’re so vivid, and it’s just—” “What are they about?” Mabel asked. “I don’t know. It’s like I’m viewing it from my perspective, but something is off too. Like, I’m not me per se. And there’s usually fire and destruction around me like the world is ending. And I feel like I’m always dying.” The twins shot a worried look at each other before looking at you again, each saddened by your words. “And this one I just had involved some weird deer-headed woman. She killed me in it.” “Huntokar?” Dipper asked. “Yeah!” you replied. “I remember hearing that name, too. Like over and over.” “That is weird,” the boy replied. “Somehow, that monster is tied to you and—” “Ooh, another mystery to solve!” Mabel interjected. “But,” she added, suddenly saddened, “you have to go. Don’t you?” Oh crap, you thought. In everything that had happened in the short time you were here, you quickly forgot that you still needed to get to your destination. “I must admit, I kinda want to figure out what all this means. And I don’t have to leave right away. And only if it’s okay with your grunkles if I stay longer.” “YES!” Mabel fist-pumped the air. Dipper looked happy, but kept his emotions more in check than his sister’s. “I’m sure they wouldn’t have a problem with it,” he laughed. “So, uh, what is the deal with Bill, anyway? Like, what is he exactly?” you asked. The atmosphere’s tone quickly changed from one of fun to one more solemn. You were curious about him. From what you had seen—and experienced firsthand—he didn’t seem all too bad. Besides, he was a triangle, for fuck’s sake; how bad could he be? The twins shot another look at one another. “Bill... Bill is a demon,” Dipper replied. “A terrible and very powerful one at that.” “A what?” “A demon.” You raised an eyebrow, not expecting that response at all. A demon? You thought demons were just stories meant to scare people, not sentient beings in the shape of a geometry problem. But as it was, you now had one very powerful, evil demon that was also hella horny for you out and about in the world. Yeah. You always were able to attract the weird ones. As you processed this revelation, you watched as Dipper excused himself and came back a moment later carrying three heavy books. Setting them down on the bed next to you, he grabbed one, flipping through the pages until he found what he was looking for. Then, turning the book to you, you saw the page he had opened. A handwritten entry with sketches portraying the triangular demon and the words, “Do not summon at all costs,” was written across the bottom in bold lettering. Worry made your stomach turn as you ran a finger across the splotches that decorated the pages. “What is this?” you asked, taking the book from Dipper to get a better look at it. “Is that... blood?” “They’re journals our Grunkle Ford made, chronicling the weirdness of this town and his encounters with it,” Dipper replied. “This is his entry on Bill Cipher.” “And we’re pretty sure that is blood splatter on it,” his sister added, a look of disgust on her face. “We almost lost these during Weirdmageddon... well, we did lose them; Bill destroyed them. But after we thought Bill was defeated and everything went back to normal, the journals came back again.” Your eyes scanned over the pages, hardly believing it. You flipped through the journal, each section stranger than the last. Gnomes. Zombies. Demons. A cold feeling settled over you as you handed it back to Dipper. This demon seemed to know something about you you didn’t. And that worried you because it also somehow tied into this other monster, Huntokar. “What do you think he wants with me?” you asked, trying to keep the nerves out of your voice. “Don’t know. Bill always has an angle,” Dipper replied, a slight smile pulling on his mouth at the pun. “But Bill can’t be trusted. That we know for sure.” “I’m not gonna lie; I’m scared of what this all means and how it’s connected to me.” The twins quickly hugged you, and you were grateful for it. Despite having known them for only a short time, you felt as if you knew them forever. “We’ll figure this out,” Mabel said comfortingly, pulling away to look at you. Her eyes sparkled with confidence and enthusiasm. “Thanks.” You ruffled up her hair a bit. From downstairs, you heard their Grunkle Ford calling up to them. “Do you guys wanna go out for lunch?” “YES!” they yelled back.“We’ll explain Weirdmageddon to you at the restaurant,” Dipper added. “And we can ask them about you staying longer.” “Okay, cool,” you replied as you followed the kids down the stairs. ____ AO3 / Wattpad Chapter 6 / Chapter 8

#bill cipher x reader #bill cipher #gravity falls #fanfic #fan fic #my fanfic #my writing

[anysin]

Fic: Fancy Meeting You Here

For an anon requester, Billford with a "meeting at a party whilst drunk" au! In which Ford does a Bloody Mary style summoning of Bill while drunk at a college party and Bill appears. SFW, hope you enjoy!

Fancy Meeting You Here

When Ford looks into the mirror and sees a bright, yellow triangle with a top hat floating behind him, holding a martini glass, he is suddenly very grateful he locked the bathroom door before doing the dare.

"Oh my! You have caught me on an awkward moment." The creature lifts its glass up, as if in a little toast, its lone, staring eye flipping over into a mouth as it tosses the contents of the glass into its maw. Ford stares at the triangle, trying his best to follow the every movement the creature makes as it drifts closer to him, reaching out to place its slender hand on Ford's shoulder. He shivers when he can feel the pressure of the hand, its small weight, the curling of the fingers.

He can't believe that the "Bill Cipher" chant, a legend from a small Oregon town of Gravity Falls, actually worked. Of course, Ford is quite drunk right now, so this could be some kind of a hallucination, but in the case it's not, it's absolutely fascinating. Ford glances briefly in the direction of the door, making sure that it's indeed locked, before returning his eyes to the mirror; he doesn't dare to look directly behind him in case it will make the triangle disappear. The triangle is still in the reflection of the mirror, its eye back in its socket as it stares at him, swaying slightly as it holds onto Ford's shoulder.

"Well look at you, not freaking out at all! I like that in a human being." The triangle laughs, waving its glass; it refills with new liquor. "You know, usually I would be pretty pissed off to be summoned out of a party like this, but you seem like an interesting enough a freak. What's your name?"

"Ford. Stanford. Stanford Pines." Ford blinks, wiping his eyes with the back of his hand. It does nothing to sober him up, but it also doesn't make the triangle go away; it still glows bright in the dusky bathroom, and its hand is still warm on Ford's shoulder.

"What's your name?" He glances towards the bathroom door again, wondering if there is anyone outside hoping to get in, puzzled by hearing him talk to himself. He is pretty sure that even if the triangle is real to him, he's not real to anyone else.

"Bill Cipher! Pleasure to meet you." The triangle downs another drink, leaning backwards in the air as it does so; apparently, this portion is good enough to make it kick out a bit with its little black feet. It sways back towards Ford after it's done, bringing its eye close to Ford's face. "I can tell your brain is a busy bee, working even now when you should be having a blast drinking it out of your skull."

Ford shivers as the creature blinks, its eye so close to him he can feel the drag of its long lashes against his cheek.

"What are you?" he asks, raising his hand, wanting to place it on top of the hand on his shoulder.

With a laughter, the triangle sets its feet against Ford's back and pushes itself off, releasing him.

"That's a conversation for when I'm actually sober! But now that you have summoned me, you and I have a connection, pal." The triangle tosses the glass up into the air, snapping its fingers; the glass disappears before it can even start falling. "And I'm going to make use of that connection. I think we're going to have a good time together, Stanford Pines."

The triangle tips its hat off at him. "See you later, big guy."

"Wait!" Ford whirls around, reaching out.

But the triangle is already gone.

Ford stands there, and part of him wants to make a show of wondering if this really happened, and then dismiss the whole thing as a hallucination. But that's really it; it would only be for a show. He knows that he wants this to be real.

If this happened, it's proof of the existence of an extraordinary being. And Ford wants to know more about it.

Shaking his head, he goes for the door, ready to return to the party. He can only hope that Bill Cipher will contact him again.

#my fic #billford

[whereonceiwasfire]

I hope you feel better soon! Here's some ideas to play with (if you want)

Danny gets a tattoo

Danny owns a tattoo parlor

Danny works for Tony Stark as an engineer

Danny is visited by the X-men

Magneto finds him first (soon after the accident)

Danny as an antihero

Danny and Deadpool are friends

Danny meets Bill Cipher in the Ghost Zone - they become chaos buddies

Danny is really into motorcycles

Danny ends up on an alien planet and is found by the U.S.S. Enterprise

Danny somehow becomes a member of the Guardians of the Galaxy

Danny as an assassin

Baby eldritch danny

Danny becomes a toddler and is surprised adopted by a hero of your choice

Danny ends up in the Spirit World and runs into Aang

Pick and choose whichever you want - hope this helps keep the bordeom away!

Thanks so much for all these wonderful suggestions! I had such a bonkers idea for the "Danny as an assassin" one, but it was going to be all kinds of AU and pure, feral vibes, so I ended up going with the "Danny gets a tattoo" one instead because it was less out there haha. That being said, this still turned out ridiculous, and I may yet have to come back to the "Danny as an assassin" prompt one day haha!

“I can’t believe you’re really going to do it. This is so badass,” Sam says, practically vibrating with excitement as she loops an arm over Danny’s shoulder, leaning in close to all but shout the compliment into his face.

“Are you nervous?” Tuck asks, ducking his head to meet Danny’s gaze as the three of them scuff down the sidewalk. 

“I mean, not really,” Danny says with a shrug. “I don’t figure it’ll hurt any more than getting blasted through a brick wall, and that happens on a weekly basis.” 

“What are you going to get?” Sam asks, eyes sparkling. “Flames? A skull? A skull with flames?” 

Danny just gives a noncommittal laugh in answer and shakes her off as they reach the doors of the tattoo parlor—the words Amity Ink adhered to the glass in vinyl letters. Danny pushes through first, his friends following, a little bell jangling overhead as they traipse into the space.

The floors are concrete, the walls plastered with art. It smells a little like antiseptic, and the loud, rattling bzzzz is pervasive. 

Despite all of his big talk, Danny’s heart does a little flip in his chest.

“Hey. I’m, uh, here to see Spike?” Danny says as he approaches the counter. 

The blue-haired woman behind the desk arches a pierced brow and gives Danny a sweeping up and down gaze. 

“You old enough to be in here, kid?” she asks, snapping on a piece of gum. 

“She is so cool,” Sam whispers dreamily in Danny’s ear, and he has to brush her off of him. 

“I’ve got an arrangement,” Danny says, rolling his shoulders back and standing a bit taller. “We're doing a favor. For Phantom.” 

“Oh?” the woman asks, lips tweaking on a smile. “Well. That’s a horse of a different color then. Come with me.” 

She leads Danny, Sam, and Tuck into a little cubicle in the back, a long, plush bench set out, a cart filled with inks and supplies wheeled up next to it. Spike sits on a rolling chair, feet apart, grin wide as he spins and meets Danny’s eye. 

“Fenton!” he says, throwing arms wide. “You really getting a tattoo? This is sick!” 

“Y-yeah,” Danny says with a laugh, fishing a crumpled napkin from his pocket where he’s scrawled out a rough approximation of what he wants. “I need you to do this. I was thinking, like, I don’t know. The upper arm or something? Somewhere I can hide it, but that’s not like, too inconspicuous.”

He can feel his friends’ silent questions as he hands the napkin over—watches Spike’s brows lift up his forehead as he examines what’s on it. To the guy’s credit, he doesn’t ask any questions, just pats the bench seat gently in invitation.

“Do you want me to gussy this up at all, or just leave it as is?” Spike asks as Danny looses a shaky breath and sits. 

“You can do whatever you want with it. As long as it’s, like, readable,” Danny says.

“You got it.” 

There’s not a lot of room in the back here, so Spike shoos Tucker and Sam away for the time being, telling them it’s not a big piece and shouldn’t take too long. Danny can hear them wandering around the parlor, Tuck exclaiming about the different designs on the wall, Sam chatting up the lady at the front about her different tattoos and piercings—how much they hurt, how much they cost, what they mean.

As Spike gets started, Danny squinches his eyes shut, holding his breath as his arm is cleaned with a cool, antiseptic wipe, a stencil laid down against his skin. He shivers a little when the loud, buzzing rattle of the tattoo gun finally begins—flickers a glance down when Spike draws the first small line of the tattoo. 

“Doing okay?” Spike asks. 

“Yeah,” Danny answers with a nod.

Spike keeps going, working silently, eyes focused and determined.  

It burns a bit, but really isn’t that bad, and Danny breathes easily through the next few lines, only grimacing a little in a couple of places.

Before he knows it, it’s done.

He watches as Spike wipes away the last beads of crimson blood—smiles down at the lettering inked against his skin. 

“Thanks a million. I owe you one,” Danny says. 

“Naw, don’t worry about it. Like I said before. It’s a favor for Phantom,” Spike says with a little wink. 

When Danny comes out from the back, tape and padding slapped over his tattoo, Tucker and Sam are immediately crowding him, asking if it hurt, if he really did it, demanding to see.  

Danny obliges with a satisfied little smile, peeling away the tape to reveal the words penned against his upper arm. 

If found unconscious, please return to the care of Clockwork, Master of Time. 

Sam and Tucker are completely dumbstruck, and Danny is completely oblivious as he chatters excitedly—gaze not leaving his arm as he turns it over. 

“Isn’t it great? Now I don’t have to worry about passing out and winding up in a hospital, or a morgue, or about whether or not my parents are going to find me! I’m not sure Clockwork will be thrilled to be my new, eternal, all-knowing emergency contact, but I couldn’t think of anybody else. And, I mean, let’s be serious, the dude exudes huge Time Dad energy. I think he likes being responsible for me. It looks so cool, I can’t believe this is real,” Danny says, poking at the tattoo briefly before hissing in a startled breath and jerking his hand away. “Right, okay, bad idea. Don’t poke it.” 

“I can’t believe that’s your tattoo,” Sam says with a heavy sigh.

Danny misses her tone, parroting her sentiment as he looks back down at his skin, his voice dreamy and awestruck. 

“I know,” he says, smiling. “I can’t believe this is my tattoo."

#drabble requests #phanfic #danny phantom #danny fenton #Sam manson #Tucker Foley #Spike #ashoutinthedarkness #thanks for the request!

[simpingbluecloud]

ch2 part two

Two days later and they're trying to tell me there's a demon now.

"Pff ok dipper what do they look like?" I say. He pulls out a book and quickly flips through pages.

"This." He shows me a page with a triangle with an eye, limbs, a bow tie and top hat.

"Oh a fancy illuminati…fun. Glad you guys still have sharp imaginations. Haha." I say. Dipper gives me a straight face through this.

"Dipper come on you're the brainy one. You know this is silly right?"

"No, I'm serious!"

"Oh ya, then I have powers." I say as I lean on the register.

"Uhg I know what I saw."

"Ok ok." I grab a sucker and take the wrapper off and put it in my mouth."Ok say there is a demon. What do we do about it huh?" I say, then Dipper thinks for a moment.

"I umm don't know." He says as he looks down. I look at the time.

"It's late bud. You can tell me about your demon tomorrow. We'll work something out."

"Wait really!" He said excitedly.

"Yep night." I go to my room and sleep.

~dream sequence bc I'm cringe~

I open my eyes and I see my toys floating.

"What the." I let them down. I look down I'm still my grown adult size but I'm on my old room with my old toys that' looked new may I add. I stand up and walk over to the door and open it without touching it. I walk out and look around. There are trees with doors.

"Nice, a forest in my head."

"Well, well well well you've grown a lot." An echo-like voice called out. I look around.

"Hey who is that this is my head." I feel a tap on my shoulder. I look behind me. There is a tall man with a tophat on his half black half yellow hair. He has a triangular eyepatch on one eye and the other is yellow with a cat-like pupil. He had a black polo shirt with a beige trench coat that had a black brick design at the bottom but faded as it went up. There were also black dress pants and shoes."Umm hi" I said. "Do I know you?"

"No not quite, but I know you." He smiles and his teeth looked like pointy grass kids draw of they were white.

"That's totally not creepy."

"Ok well I was your dad's friend. Before you where born."

"Oh ok and you are?"

"Oh right, bill cipher." He reached a hand out and I gently shook it."Anyways, I wanted to tell you that there's no need to thank me for keeping you safe."

"What?"

"What? you think you went to a safe dimension by chance? No I put you there, there's somethings I wanted to do that requires you alive but I'm not allowed to possess you."

"Excuse me, what? Are you some demon?" I look at him jokingly but to my surprise he said

"yes." with a straight face.

"Oh your serious. Ok that's how you're here. Ummm. Ok can I ask why you can't possess me. Are you not strong enough?." I slightly mock him.

"No kid, I made a deal with your dad."

"I'm not a kid, I'm 18 and what deal are we talking about here."

"We'll I can't possess you, your mom or Ford but I get to give one of you powers. Helps me find you."

"Wait me."

"Oh ya that memory of you making your toys float, that was real."

"Woah ok so what other powers do I have."

"At this point I'm time you probably have teleportation and flying along with the telekinesis you had before. Oh I gotta go see you again kid. Remember Reality Is An Illusion the universe is a hologram, buy gold bye."

"I'm not a-."

~End of dream lol~

I woke up. "Kid." Huh? That was weird. I go to the kitchen.

"Guys look I made a Mabel punch." I look down as she holds up her pink punch, which I assume has edible glitter but also…rubber…toys.

"And I'm the weird one."

"Yep." Dipper said. "Ok dipper I have news. So umm your demon's real and I have powers."

"Ha what."

"We'll Yesterday it was a joke today I'm serious. Let me look at that book Yada Yada don't summon. Oh ya who summoned him in the first place?"

"Gideon."

"Makes sense. I don't see a stop here." "I'll keep looking." Dipper says I hand him the book. I shrug and go out for another walk. I end up sitting on a log. I look over at a stick. I point at it and it floats. I then ram it into a tree and watch it brake. Hehe.

Uhg Tumblr is being anoing part 3 is no wait. Not exact photo but close.

#I will treat this like wattpad #bill ci the demon guy #bill cipher x reader #cringe posting

[ckret2]

Chapter 27 of human Bill Cipher trying to trick his captors into liking him, featuring a mall shopping trip that turns into this:

Also, Bill faces the most difficult ethical dilemma of his life: should he act like a big jerk to a 13-year-old.

####

As they left the cheap jewelry kiosk, Bill tapped his new dress shoe against Stan's ankle to catch his attention. "Hey. Your cut." He flipped a ring in the air.

Stan caught it and inspected the symbol on its surface. "Is that the Royal Order of the Holy Mackerel?"

"You gave your protégé your fez, I thought you might want a replacement! I know how proud you are of your lodge membership, Fisherman."

Stan admiringly studied the ring and its open-mouthed crescent fish; then the corners of his mouth turned down. "Ahhh, it wasn't my membership." He stuffed the ring in his pocket.

"No? I got one with the Fishmasons symbol if you'd like that better." Bill spun the oversized ring on one finger. It slipped off and he fumbled trying to catch it.

In the smoothest move he'd pulled all summer, Dipper caught the ring before it hit the floor. He ignored Bill's outstretched hand and inspected the complicated tool-lined diamond symbol. "Fishmasons? I thought they were called..."

"Yeah, you would," Bill scoffed. "Do you believe everything you read in The Paranoia Code? You know novels are usually fictional, right?"

"But don't masons work with stone? How does a 'fish mason' make sense?"

"If everyone knew what it meant, it wouldn't be a secret society, would it?"

Dipper gave up on prying anything more than snark out of Bill and turned toward Stan. "The Royal Order of the Holy Mackerel is associated with the Fishmasons, right?"

"Yeah," Stan said, "they're uh, sister organizations or something, I think. It's complicated."

"It's a spin-off organization," Bill said. "All Mackerels are Fishers. Once you've reached the top rank in the Fishers, you're eligible to join the Holy Mackerel."

"Yeah. What he said."

Dipper nodded. "Sooo... is it true that the Fishmasons are secretly... working with the government, or...? I mean, yeah, I read it in a book. But they've had a lot of real historical figures."

Stan snorted dismissively. "If they are, they didn't invite me to those meetings."

"Well sure. The lodge that decides politics is in D.C.," Bill lied. Dipper's head whipped around to stare at him. Ha. When they got home, Bill would have to spend some time deciding which would be the stupidest conspiracy theory rabbit holes to send Dipper down. If he played his cards right, by Thanksgiving he could have the kid spouting rubbish that would alienate half his extended family.

"Would you stop staring at me like that?" He shoved the side of Dipper's face; and, while he was distracted, grabbed back the Fisher ring to inspect its symbol. Kryptos's face. Far better drawn than Bill could do. And the thin little layer of gold atop the ring should be enough to enhance Bill's psychic signal. Maybe that would be enough to get a call through to the Nightmare Realm.

He tucked the ring in his shoe and turned to Stan. "Anyway, if you think that was good, you should see what I can do in a real jewelry store. What do you say?"

"I dunno. Jewelry shops are tricky, they're always on the lookout for shoplifters."

"They never catch teams and we've got two rambunctious kids to split their attention. I'll do the distracting, you do the lifting. When's the last time you had a gold watch that isn't cursed?"

"Nope!" Mabel, who'd been trailing behind the group with her arms crossed, finally shoved her way between Stan and Bill. "That's enough! We came here for a good time, not a crime time!"

"We came here to go shopping," Stan protested. "We're shopping!"

"Yeah, we're just getting the best discount possible."

"It's like advanced couponing."

Bill laughed. "Hey, I like that."

"No!" Mabel stood in front of them, arms and feet spread wide like a barrier. "Grunkle Stan, you should know better. You're letting—" she dropped her voice to an emphatic whisper, "Bill talk you into doing bad stuff. The whole reason you came along was to make sure he can't do that!"

Stan snapped, "Oh, like you didn't just make us stand around for an hour while you played dress up with him! Why's it okay when you play with the demon, but nobody else can make him useful?"

Mabel winced. "No, that's not... I mean..."

If this conversation went the wrong way, Stan and Mabel might both talk each other out of doing anything interesting with Bill. He'd better defuse this situation quick. "Hey, c'mon, Stanley, that's your niece. Don't be so hard on her."

There was a flicker of irritation on Stan's face directed at Bill, followed by a flicker of guilt toward Mabel, followed by him grunting and refusing to make eye contact with anyone.

That was one threat neutralized. Bill turned his grin on Mabel. "Sorry for monopolizing the trip, kid. We'll make it up to you! Fordsy got you that cute crystal bracelet, didn't he—wanna graduate to some real gemstones?"

"Hey, yeah," Stan said, immediately perking up. "You like jewelry! I can get you something with hearts or kittens. Way better than a bunch of boring rocks." Bill mentally patted himself on the back. Oh, he was so good at this. Good old sibling rivalry. Families were so easy to manipulate.

Mabel slapped her hand over the rainbow crystal bracelet mixed amidst her other bracelets. "I don't want you to get me real jewelry!" she shouted; but Stan had already set out on his new mission, with Bill trotting along just behind him. "Not if you have to steal it!"

"Relax!" Bill waved without turning around. "We're a couple of pros, you've got nothing to worry about." He elbowed Stan before he could absorb Mabel's protests. "Don't worry, once she's older she'll appreciate what a financial investment fine jewelry is. Never too early to buy a little gold. Or—well—acquire gold."

"Yeah," Stan said, "who knows when the next apocalypse is gonna be."

"Could be any day now," Bill lied.

"The only bracelet I want is this one!" Mabel waved her arm in the air, pointing at the shooting star friendship bracelet Bill had made. But Stan and Bill were too far away to care about her protests now.

Mabel's shoulders slumped. She glowered at the friendship bracelet. It didn't seem as friendly as it did when Bill gave it to her. "This whole trip was a mistake, wasn't it."

Dipper grimaced. "I didn't say it."

"You don't have to." Mabel sighed heavily. "I don't know what got into me. B—Goldie's been so nice lately, I thought he was making progress! But he's been nothing but a creep today. Guess the niceness was all an act."

"He can act nice for a long time. It took Grunkle Ford almost three years to figure out how evil he is." When Dipper concluded that this hadn't had the comforting effect he'd intended, he asked, "Do you wanna tip off security about the jewelry heist?"

Mabel sighed again. "No, I don't want Grunkle Stan to get in trouble. And if Goldie's arrested he might spill the beans to mall security. Let's just wait outside by the car."

"Yeah, all right," Dipper said. "If they don't come out in twenty minutes, we'll call Ford."

Headed the other way across the mall, Bill said, "So, a watch for you, a necklace or something for the kid, and for me... they probably don't have crowns here, so—"

"Whoa, hey, I don't remember offering to get you anything," Stan said. "I already got you fancy shoes and a bunch of clothes. We're square."

"We're no such thing. Besides, why should I help you if I'm not getting anything?" Bill asked. "Maybe earrings? Gimme a nail when we get home and I can pierce my own ears—"

His arm was wrenched backwards and he fell on his back.

Thirty feet away, Mabel yelped as she was yanked back and landed on her butt.

Bill and Mabel turned around and stared at each other.

Bill said, "Right! Forgot about that. Just—get over here."

"No!" Mabel shouted. "You get over here!"

Bill scowled. "Come on, kid. Your great-uncle and I are trying to do something here. If you don't want to come along, at least let Stanley have the other half of the bracelet—"

"I said NO!" Mabel planted her feet wide apart and tugged her wrist back as far as it could go. "You used me! You were only nice so you could go outside and I fell for it! As soon as you got what you wanted, you started acting like a huge poop face again!"

"Wow, language—"

"I'm not helping you anymore!"

Bill could feel his face heating up. "Kid, don't be ridiculous! You can't stand there forever! You're being..." selfish, irrational, petty—what word would get him what he wanted?

The pedestrian chatter over the inoffensive mall music had fallen silent. The feeling of being watched crawled over his back. (He seemed to discover another unpleasant new human bodily sensation every day.) Oh. Witnesses. There was no way the stranger in a shouting match with a little girl was coming out of this looking cool.

He could still save face if he got her uncle to do Bill's arguing for him. He turned hopefully to his new shoplifting buddy. "C'mon, she's—she's being unreasonable, right? We're talking about one watch, here."

And Bill had lost him. Stan's expression hardened. He crossed his arms and Bill flinched at the movement. "If a stupid watch is gonna upset Mabel that much..."

Families were so difficult to manipulate! Why did they have to gang up on him, it wasn't fair. He shot a furious glower at Mabel.

And then laughed, loudly enough for the rubberneckers to hear. "Okay, okay! You win. Sheesh, you look so serious. Peace talks in front of the Kidz Zone?"

Sternly, Mabel said, "Okay, but you do not get to ride the little coin-operated train."

"I wasn't gonna ask!" Bill paused. "Or the—?"

"Or the helicopter!"

Dipper called, "You haven't earned it, man."

"Fine," Bill snapped, "I didn't want to ride it." Swallow your disappointment, Cipher. Just play it cool.

When they'd rendezvoused, Bill said, "Okay, I might have gone a little overboard. Big deal. But we've been here all afternoon, we haven't eaten, I'm sure that's why everyone's so testy. Let's just swing by the food court and then get out of here."

Mabel frowned. "You're just trying to get us to stay."

"Yes. I am. So that we can eat before we go." If he ended this on a win, even a small win, that would be what everyone took away and he could call this trip progress. "Funny thing about human bodies is they need to be fed a couple times a day. Maybe you've noticed."

Dipper frowned. "Dude, you're only eating twice a day?"

"I don't question your diet, get off my back. What do you think, Stanley, feed the kids before we go?" Bill might've lost Mabel, but he had a shot at securing Stan. He could work on Mabel again once they were home. "You wanna drive home a couple of cranky teens, or a couple of cranky and hungry teens?"

Dipper snapped, "We're only cranky because of—!"

"Nah, he's right," Stan said wearily. "I'm starving. We'll grab something quick to eat."

Bill immediately perked up; but Mabel's frown deepened.

####

"I want chicken strips," Dipper said. 

Mabel said, "I'm getting pizza."

Bill said, "I want—"

"I don't care what you want," Stan said. "I'm getting a burger and you're getting the fries."

"Oh, so you want to find out what I'm like when I'm the cranky and hungry one?"

Stan grunted. "Fine. Your budget's five dollars. I really do only have a twenty."

"Fine." Bill drifted over to Mabel, who'd gotten in line in front of the food court's pizza booth. "Hey, Shooting Star—"

"Leave me alone, jerk."

"Whoa, am I not allowed to get a slice of pizza?"

Mabel didn't respond. She was glaring through the glass display window at the available pizza flavors as she waited for her turn to order. Apparently Bill interpreted that as permission to stay and look over the flavors himself. 

Standing so close to Bill Cipher when Mabel didn't want him there was like having a monster breathing down her neck. She hadn't realized how hover-y he could get until it stopped being fun. She remembered something like this from Ford's lesson on cults and con artists, how they try to get into your head by talking and talking and not giving you any time and space to breathe.

She could feel Bill's heavy gaze on the side of her face. Dipper and Stan were at the next restaurant over, but Bill stood between her and them. The chain bracelet on her wrist felt like a handcuff. She wanted to rip it off and be free of him. She wanted to go home.

"I've never had American pizza before," Bill said. "What do you think, cheese or Hawaiian?"

Mabel screwed up her face. "Ew, the one with pineapple?"

Bill's grin twitched wider. "Is that a vote for cheese, then?"

Gross, he was trying to get her to talk again. She glared at the pizza more determinedly. "Get what you want, I don't care."

Bill sighed. "Fine. You're no fun." He looked over the pizzas—standing too close—for one brief moment of heavy silence; and then, pointing between the cheese and Hawaiian, murmured to himself, "Eenie, meenie, miney..."

Mabel's whole body went stiff.

####

She felt the oppressive oven-like heat of Bill's dark floating pyramid, a too-euclidean temple built without the comfort of humans in mind, so hot that touching the walls burned your skin; and she felt a sticky sweat running down her back. She felt the constant electrical static of Bill's glowing shadowy grip around her waist. Every time she shifted and struggled, her sweater crackled and stung her. Bill's hand felt like nothing, absolutely nothing, and it was crushing and inescapable.

She could hear his voice, that forced jollity pushing to the verge of exhausted hysteria, saying, "I think I'm gonna kill one of them now just for the heck of it!"

She could see his eye like a blood red spotlight, eye like an incinerating laser, the light swallowing her and Dipper; she heard her heartbeat pounding in her ears; she saw the symbol that represented her flashing in Bill's eye, and even before he stopped she knew it would be her. 

"EENIE... MEENIE... MINEY..."

She saw his hand tremble with rage as he prepared to snap her out of existence.

"YOU!"

####

"Hey, you." Bill put a hand on Mabel's shoulder. "What are you getting? Maybe we can split two slic—"

There was a wild look in Mabel's eyes.

The moment she seized his upper arm, he knew he was ending up on the floor and it was going to hurt.

She spun her back to him, jerked him against her, and flipped him over her shoulders. It was bizarrely relaxing, that second spent floating upside-down in the air. Familiar, comforting.

And then he slammed back first on the tile floor. And it hurt.

He stared wheezing at the faraway lights until his internal organs remembered how to lung. The world was too bright; he'd lost his sunglasses. He sat up and gingerly felt the back of his head. It had cracked open, he was leaking internal organs—no. That was his hair. His head was fine.

Dizzily, he asked, "What was that for?" He shook his head to clear it. "Hey. Hey! What the heck was that for!" He grabbed the counter and got to his feet, and almost slipped back down on his first attempt. "I've been a little obnoxious but what'd I do to deserve a surprise attack out of nowhere? What, were you just waiting for a chance to get the jump on me—"

And then he saw the look on Mabel's face—the absolute unadulterated terror—in the split second before she gave a little flinch of realization and the guilt kicked in.

Baffled, he looked past her and the confused nearby mall-goers to Stan and Dipper—who thankfully didn't look angry, but they also didn't look as confused as Bill felt. They had tight-lipped white-faced looks like they understood what they'd just seen perfectly.

"What," Bill said. "What'd I do? Was it something I said?" He racked his brain. He did something that scared the dickens out of them—because all of them were giving him that look—it was three against one, something must have happened that he didn't pick up on. Something that made humans nervous that wasn't important enough for someone like him to recall?

He didn't know what.

That was it. He lost. All his work was undone, they were afraid of him again, they saw him as a threat and they'd lock him back up in the shack. There went any chance of ever seeing the outside world before his execution. There went his hopes of befriending the more pliable humans, or winning Ford back over. There went his conversations with Mabel. And he didn't even know what he did wrong.

If he killed Mabel and cut the bracelet cord, was he fast enough to escape before Stan and Dipper could react? If he lunged over the counter, could he get the pizza cutter and slit Mabel's throat before she flipped him again?

He saw a flickering glimpse of his uncoordinated scramble in the futures where he tried; the scene quickly fizzled out as he concluded it wouldn't work.

"Sorry," Mabel said. "Instinct. You know how martial arts are! You get it trained into your muscle memory, and... and... I... didn't mean to do that, that was my bad."

No less confused, Bill said, "Yeah, no, sure, it's—it's fine." He couldn't afford for it not to be "fine"; he didn't know what the other options were. "I know I cut an intimidating figure." He laughed weakly.

He couldn't apologize even if he wanted to. He didn't know what he was supposed to be apologizing for. He was still watching Mabel's face and Dipper's and Stan's for any context clues to explain what just happened.

And Mabel said, voice small and shaking, "You... don't wanna hurt us again, right?"

Bill blinked slowly at her.

It was the stupidest question he'd ever heard.

She had to know that. Everyone watching had to know that. Bill had been plotting how to hurt them again not fifteen seconds ago. He had every reason to want to hurt them—his very survival depended on finding a way to hurt them—and anyway, regardless of his intentions, obviously if he was asked he'd say "no," wouldn't he! As if he could admit to his captors that he did want to hurt them! It was such a breathtakingly stupid question that he could laugh.

He didn't laugh. He didn't point out how dumb she was for asking, or what a waste of time the question was, or remind her that they both knew there was only one answer. He didn't want to show off how effortlessly he could talk circles around humans; he didn't care about making her feel stupid.

He only wanted Mabel to stop looking at him like he terrified her.

So he said, "No. Of course I don't want to hurt you." He nodded toward Stan and Dipper, "No promises about these guys, they've been making fun of our fashion sense all afternoon, but... not you." He held up one hand, showing Mabel the friendship bracelet she'd given him with the evil eye beads. "You gave me a new job, remember?"

He'd hoped the jokey half-threat might help lighten the mood, maybe get her to smile; but she just nodded. "Okay."

Okay.

Stan shuffled his feet awkwardly. "Welp. I lost my appetite. We're going home."

####

Bill didn't care about Stan and Dipper glaring at his back as they trudged toward the exit, but Mabel walking so quietly beside him was sandpapering at his nerves. If he were back home and she were one of his usual pack of friends, he could just order her to perk up or else get out of his sight until she did—but that wouldn't work here, where he was currently not all powerful, he didn't have supreme control over everybody in the vicinity, and they did have to share a ride home. If he tried to get all imperious on her, she'd never speak to him again and Stan would probably break his skull.

What could he do to make her less nervous?

"Hey." He held out his hand to her. She gave it a quizzical look, then looked up at Bill. He said, "Can't hurt you if I can't use my hand, right? Unless you expect me to start biting."

Mabel said, "This isn't, like... a deal, is it—?"

"No! What? There's no deal, where would there be a deal?" Irritably, Bill said, "I'm just trying to help, if you don't think it's helpful then fine, whatever—"

Mabel took his hand. He shut up.

She flinched in surprise and pulled her hand back, holding the ring with the Fishmasons symbol. "I don't w..."

"I know you don't. Listen—we're all going to jail if we go back to 18th Century to return anything, but... I mean, we pass the ring kiosk on the way out, so..." Was that enough? Would that do anything?

She pushed it back into his hand. "You return it."

Irritation flared up his throat; he swallowed it down. "No problem." She was probably worried he was trying to set her up.

As they walked past the kiosk, he steered around to the side opposite the teen manning it; ran one hand over the rows of rings like he was idly inspecting the designs as he passed; and with a subtle movement, slid the stolen ring back amongst the others without pausing. He showed Mabel his empty hand to prove he'd done the deed.

As they moved passed the kiosk, she took his hand again. He squeezed hers back.

He'd find another way to get a message out to Kryptos. That dumb cheap ring probably wouldn't have worked anyway.

Dipper muttered, "You're still a threat if you have one hand free." He took Bill's other hand. They simultaneously shuddered. Never mind the being-watched feeling Bill had earlier, this was what the phrase "skin crawling" truly meant.

But Mabel immediately perked up. "Thanks, Dipper."

Oh! Sure! Thank him. Bill shot Dipper a dirty look and tightened his grip. (It wasn't even tight enough to hurt.) "I forgot how sweaty your palms are."

"Shut up."

Behind them, Stan grumbled, "I'm just glad you only have two hands."

"Hey!" Bill twisted around to give Stan an exasperated look. "Do you have any idea how much I envy you right now? This is torture. I can feel every fingerprint on these two. How come you're the only one who doesn't have to suffer."

Mabel laughed weakly. "Because Grunkle Stan never tried to end the world."

"Neither did I." He sighed exaggeratedly. "But fine—I'll take my punishment like an adult."

He'd gotten a laugh out of Mabel. That was good enough for now.

####

As soon as the car pulled around to the house side of the shack, before they'd even come to a stop, Bill unfastened his seat belt, shouldered open the door, and tumbled out into the sunlight and dirt. A couple of stolen shirts fluttered free.

"Hey!" Stan rolled down his window. "Get back—! How'd you get that door open?!"

"I never closed it!" Bill was already doing cartwheels across the grass, turned like a sunflower to catch the early evening sunbeams filtering through the trees. "I just pulled it close to the car."

"It was ajar the whole drive?!"

"A jar of what?" Bill's cartwheels were already better than the ones he'd tried earlier that day.

Mabel winced. "Sorry, Grunkle Stan, I should have checked..."

"It's not her fault!" Like heck was Bill letting Mabel get in trouble over one little door. "I'm an out-of-control agent of chaos! I'd ride home sitting on the roof if this body had the friction to stay put."

Stan snapped, "Next time, that's where I'm putting you!"

While Stan parked properly and everyone else got out, Bill got tired of cavorting and trudged up to the shack. He kicked his shiny new shoe against the wall as he waited for the Pines to let him inside.

"Glad that's over," Stan sighed. "I'm never going shopping with you again."

Yeah, sure he wasn't. Bill could work on him. Stan would want a new watch eventually.

"And I'm still starving," Stan said.

"Pizza," Bill said. Dipper and Mabel perked up like a couple of dogs that had just heard their owner say walk.

"Ehh..."

"Hawaiian," Bill added.

Stan looked considering. "I do appreciate pineapple's laid-back, tropical attitude." Dipper and Mabel groaned in disappointment.

Bill proposed, "Two pizzas."

The Pines and Bill went inside, and the door swung shut behind them.

None of the humans noticed the minuscule break Bill had kicked in the shack's unicorn hair barrier.

####

(Thanks for reading, y'all! I've been really looking forward to posting this chapter, so if you've got any comments or thoughts, I'd love to hear them!)

#bill cipher #human bill cipher #mabel pines #gravity falls #gravity falls fanart #gravity falls fic #my art #fanart #my writing #bill goldilocks cipher

[an-oc-machine]

Totally not copying @moonbaycitizens because I saw a friend reblpg their post /sarc

Anyways thanks for the idea! :D

Here’s what my ocs would wear for Halloween!

Vampire universe

Kame - probably a costume based off of a corny ass pun (Ex. A bookworm)

Ritsu - a bat

Adeline - a sexy mouse (mean girls reference, I feel like Adeline would love mean girls)

Niko - a black cat

Fang - a flower

Takagi - a witch

Collapsing Hope

Ren - they wouldn’t dress up, they’d just stay at home

Emily - an Angel

Atticus - magician

Emiko - a pumpkin

Alani - a cat

Akira - some mythical beast you probably haven’t even heard of

Madeline - something to match with Luci

Luci - something to match with Madeline

Haruto - he’d get a mask from spirit Halloween or something and call it good

Daiki - a koala

Mina - she stays at home and studies, she doesn’t dress up for Halloween

Tenko - a vampire

Riley - a basketball player

Soda - a really lazy ghost costume

Leo - too embarrassed to go trick or treating

The webcomic I still don’t have a name for

Penny - a werewolf

Viktor - doesn’t dress up but still likes to go with Penny

Eva - gets a 5$ witch hat from Walmart and says she’s a witch

Kel Kinnie Moment + other ocs that don’t have a universe

Lucy - a glow in the dark skeleton

Kara - a witch

Alex - doesn’t dress up but still goes trick or treating for candy

Camii - a tiger

Chen - a ghost

Diana - a slutty nun

Reagan - he’d make a closet cosplay of prep from boyfriends just to fuck with everyone who compared him to prep

Cameron - one of those inflatable suits that makes it look like an alien is kidnapping you

Kenny - he’s pretty broke so he can’t really do much, he’d probably just make a closet cosplay of Kenny from South Park

Rosa - would pretend to be too good for trick or treating because their parents don’t want them too (Rosa still secretly wants to go really bad)

Marcy - also would wear a costume based on a pun

Ace - bill cipher from gravity falls

Ezra - he wouldn’t even try to put something together 💀he’ll just flip up his hoodie (which has cat ears btw) and just say he is a cat and if anyone argues against it he’ll just meow in return then walk away

Carol May - stays at home and gives everyone candy :D

Kana - a cute bunny

Shinigami project

Toru - mad scientist

Shin - a zombie

Bruno - one of those purge mask mfs

Joanne - a werewolf

Siri - some book character

Once again, thanks @moonbaycitizens for the idea! Byeee!

#oc stuff #oc #my oc shit #oc shit #my oc’s #my oc story #my oc stuff #halloween #halloween costumes

[ghostlyplacetobe]

Benrey would you flip off Bill Cipher this is for science-Shiro

Yes -benrey

#ask #g0v3rm3nt-h00k3r

[moonillfated]

𝘔𝘪𝘥𝘴𝘶𝘮𝘮𝘦𝘳 𝘓𝘢𝘮𝘱𝘣𝘭𝘢𝘤𝘬

"If we can stay with the tension of opposites long enough, sustain it, be true to it - we can sometimes become vessels within which the divine opposites come together and give birth to a new reality."

~🌙 Marie-Louise von Franz

Zeph unbolted the heavy glass doors leading into the nearly empty diner,the black and white checkerboard flooring glinted in the sun,fluorescent lamps flickering a bright celeste blue. Intermission was small yet cheery place,adored by everyone. A high varity of arcade games,roller ring in the back and to die for snacks. Public and lustrous tables,red leather office chairs and gastro benches with crumbs of pretzels and corndogs. Booths ran along the wide windows surrounding the diner,mint and buttermilk colored menus laying on the pearl white tiles. Jukeboxes and arcade automats,foosball and pool tables. Dartboards and claw machines. The smell of fried food and sticky sweet drinks. Waffles, milkshakes and hash browns. Muted music coming out of the small radio by the juice boxes and sauce dispencers.

He let out a sigh, brushing off the droplets of sweat that formed on his reddened forehead - just on time. He hurridly walked inside the beanery and reached the back of the counter, the soiled apron was a sight for their sore eyes. On the checkout tabletop was a simple grease sumdged bill of fare, Zephyr went to throw it away - sending the dirty piece of paper a disgusted look. They paused, examining the receipt closer and flipping it over once they noticed the messy black writing seeping through the thin material.

'can't make it today, u'll take care of my shift will ya? thanks' -m

"Is he fucking serious?" The diner owner tore it, angrily mumbling under their breath until there was nothing but useless pettals of white left on their palm. He was used to Milo not showing up for his shifts really, it was nothing new. But there were times where he seriously wanted nothing more than to fire his best friend purely out of pettiness. Zeph didn't hesitate to eagerly welcome his guests with the brightest smile they could muster today, it was nearing 6pm and he only expected to work an hour after his break - but seems as Milo had other ideas for them tonight.

'Son of a bitch'

There was music echoing quieter than usual in the kitchen, coming in one ear and leaving through the other. They were looking forward to spending their birthday in a more rousing way, don't get him wrong he absolutely adored working in the diner - on every other day that wasn't his damn birthday. The urge to just leave and let Milo deal with the consequences of a possible robbery was swirling inside of their head constantly. A broken record of impulsiveness and frustration and disappointment and sadness and-

'Didn't even wish me a happy birthday.'

A groom deserted at the altar. A chef whose soufflé has just collapsed. All of these images could be applied to Cipher right in this situation, though none of them could relate actually. They continued with work, not being as thorough with cleaning the dishes as they usually were. The hours dragged on, dying heat of a late summer night and neon city lights - a quick image of a distant memory when Milo dyed his hair an electric blue flashed infront of his eyes. He refused to stop calling Zephyr disco dust for a whole month. The radio in the back turned to static, an over enthusiastic reporter speaking about the latest celebrity gossip. Zeph disregarded him, eyes blankly scanning the now deserted diner. He aimlessly rubbed the tables, the road shimmered. Holograms and watermelon juice - Milo gave him a can of it when they were eight and the awful taste still lingers on his tounge today.

Even then Milo was a stubborn idiot who insisted that his taste was superior, simply ignoring them. They drank alot of juice that day, end of summercamp. He had asked Milo where he got it from, and the freezer from one of their counselors is still in his best friends room now eleven years later. They went to watch a surfing competition the next day, pigmented fingertips and a record player repeating loud laughter. Zeph smiled and a tear rolled silently down their face, quickly recovering when he remembered Milo breaking a kid's nose only shortly after - they let out a short snort and recollected their thoughts.

'What a disaster today is, happy fucking birthday Zephyr'

The front doors opened. The brown haired restaurateur rolled their eyes, cleaning the stained tables faster. A presence of plain social denial, eucalyptus margaritas and shadow machines. Rattling of chains and heavy leather, more like hot rubber during this time of year - Corrin glanced up and suprise suprise! Speak of the devil.

"You can fuck right off, I'm not in the mood to see your face tonight or for the next week." Milo stayed silent, hell the fucker just sat down nonchalantly on one of the chairs at the island bar as if he didn't completely ruin his best friend's birthday. Zeph remembered bribing him with stickers when Milo didn't wanna talk, even going so far as to leave him post it notes all over his room. And what if Zeph didn't really understand the cough drops he gifted him a week later, it was early teenage culture - plus it was Milo. The atmosphere in the diner was tense, Cipher's caramel locks bounced as he hovered over the now clean surface. The other person in the room still didn't make any sound or move.

"Stupid, fffucking shitface - who does he think he is?" Apparently the intense scrubbing wasn't satisfactory and so they continued to futher polish the table while mumbling incoherently. They were so done with him for today, asking to take over a shift of his isn't necessarily an issue - sure a burden sometimes but nothing bad or extremely annoying. He threw a look at the clock- 10:23pm. He's been stuck here, closing up their diner for the past 4 hours instead of being out there and enjoying his birthday. All becouse this leather wearing, blood smeared prick just had to ruin it.

Summer 1964, 8 year old Cipher had given him a machete for his birthday - and he immediately ended up jamming it into his neighbor's old birch. Hell, the old hag still throws her newspapers at Milo when he passes by. Not like they would ever forget his special day, unlike some other people in the room. The sun outside had dissappeared fully and a blanket of stars took its place, there was no moon keeping them company tonight. Ironic. Zeph turned his attention towards his friend: "You better make it qui-"

"Quit whinin' ya big baby lets go." Before Zeph could protest whatsoever Milo had grabbed him by the wrist with a cocky smirk and pulled him towards the door. They let out a suprised yelp, thrashing until he released his arm, suntanned hands straightened out their apron - that old thing. A liquid cartoon morning and some leftover cereal, Milo had commented on the state of it and sure it was up in years but thats what made it special. It was covered in patchwork of different materials, the pocket on the front was made from an old tiedye shirt - and an ugly pineapple bandana was stitched onto the back. Zeph was pretty sure the strings holding it in place were shoelaces. Milo eyed them impatiently, scraped knuckles and bandaged arms. "Listen you nerd, either you can stay here and sulk in peace about me -' he paused and dragged a hand through his shaggy black hair: "Don't get me wrong I would be flattered to occupy your head but this is a right thing wrong time situation."

"I hate you, from the bottom of my heart." Milo grinned, cocking his head in amusement - smug fuck.

"The feelin's mutual now come on, day's almost over." And for the second time that night he had seized his best friend's arm. Zephyr protested, but the complaints fell on deaf ears - they let out a long and exaggerated sigh of annoyance. Milo's worn out converse silently collided with the black and white tiles, their own shoes following suit in a clumsy dance. "You're the worse." A disinterested humm came from him and Cipher added a punch to his shoulder to bring his point across - this was a serious matter. "Don't hit me you fuck- or else im spoilin' your whole suprise."

"Go for i- what did you say?" Zephyr's face formed into that of curiosity and shock. Birthday suprise? Is that what's going on? They made it outside, quickly locking the door behind them while Milo grabbed a spare helmet. They took it from him, flipping him off in the process but nonetheless following the safety orders of putting one on Milo had told them before. It was a stupid accident, but spending the night in the hospital becouse of a wrecked leg a second time? No thank you. Cipher carefully slid on the halmet over his light brown locks, making sure the helmet is secured tightly - Milo's way of doing that consists of three harsh knocks. "You're gonna give me brain damage becouse of that, I can sue you for that you know?" They climed onto the motorcycle, Milo had stopped twitching whenever they draped their arms around his waist. Reflexes or some stupid thing like that-

"At least we'll be sure you own a brain."

"Asshole."

☆ - - - - - - - - - - - - ☆

Zephyr has come to love late night drives on Milo's motorcycle, it was nice and the city looked way better when on it. Cellophane and styrofoam, the remnants of a whoozy youth - sipping on smooth air and maybe even glitter dust between tree trunks. Zephyr observed the passing streets and people, gripping the now cool leather a little stronger when Milo took a particularly sharp turn right. They payed attention to the patches and pins covering their best friend's jacket, relishing the feeling of their own flannel fluttering in the harsh impact of the wind. Corrin remembered when they used to get motion sickness, it faded over time and it only took getting rid of Milo's awful - granted dangerous driving habits. That is, while they drive with him.

Milo's fingers drummed aimlessly on the steering pads, the road he was currently driving on was smooth and straight. Not for long. Zephyr watched bewildered as the black haired driver turned right onto a small wooded path, the gravel crinkled under the tires and 'oh god why is this moron bringing me here in the middle of the night i hate it no-'

"Don't strangle me relax for fucks sake, I didn't drag you up here just to bury a body." There was mirth laced in his words and Corrin resisted the urge to push him. They simultaneously loosened their arms, citrin reflecting eyes now a deep zircon in between the looming pine. The loud songs of cicadas and various other critters could be heard even over the engine. Tall, thin grass that made your bones go cold - this was the worst.

Not sure if they should have been relieved or even more scared, Milo stopped. He stepped off, Zephyr following shortly after him and hitting the floor with a thud. They took in their surroundings more properly after taking off their helmet, hold on- "Interstellar Summercamp? What are we doing here?" Milo parked his motorcycle further to the side, next to the beat up wooden sign at the camp's entrance. Boxes and old flyers were scattered around the main cabin and Cipher's memories of this place came back flooding in at once. Summer 1964, the same summer Milo got his machete stuck in Mrs. Corenthal's old birch. Not even the failed attempt at orange tarts could redeem it, she has been holding a grudge forever. It caused some good laughs though.

There was a lake futher away, near the activity area of the camp - Cipher could hear the distant rolling of water. Milo's blue eyes looked towards the darkening campgrounds, there was a bandaid across his left eyebrow. He had taken off his jacket and was lazily holding it between bruised fingers. In the middle of a silent break he pulled out a cigarette and lit it, taking a large drag of the toxic fog into his lungs. He offered one to Zephyr and they gladly took it from his slightly shaking grip, a quick 'thank you' left their mouth.

The two friends started walking, more like Milo racing them to the lake platform. Both were out of breath when they arrived there, and what if Zeph tripped - and what if Milo accidentally slammed into a fence.

"You still haven't told me why you brought me up here, and it better make up for ruining my birthday." Milo scoffed, as if offended by their choice of words. He sat down near the lake, the soles of his shoes barely touching the indigo water under them. Stars shone brightly, and Zephyr smiled gently at them before putting out his cigarette and taking a seat next to Milo. His arms were bandaged up heavily, and a smell of cold air lingered in his hair mixing together with the strong scent of smoke. He puffed out a last cloud and put out the cancer stick aswell. Who would have thought they would end up like this, chasing eachother through their old summercamp. And to think Cipher was ready to fight him a few hours ago.

"Its nice here, no people or loud noises." Zeph listened even though both of their gazes were focused somewhere else. They dipped their foot into the ink liquid below, and Milo sent a pinecone tumbling down a small hill. "Happy birthday." Sonic ray guns and sprite soaked hair, an old laser tag game in middle school which ended with hotpockets in a microwave. Zeph had painted a shell that day too, and Milo still keeps it in a jar in his room - under a dust covered bandana. And a week later their best friend was complaining about the worst book he ever read, they had rewritten 'House of leaves' and rebranded it fully out of spite.

"Thank you." Corrin smiled, their hands coming to a halt in their lap when a small package was placed on it. Milo was rubbin the back of his neck nervously, and they pretended not to see how he fidgeted. They were five, and they were ten - but they were 18 when buying a beanery of their own. Yes the repair bills climb with each month, yes they had fired milo three times but it was life and it was messy but it was their mess. It was worth all the karaoke nights and the lazy afterhours chats and maybe the new journal he got from Milo today could hold some extra storytelling.

"Oh one more thing, here you go-" They took the small object from his hands, it was heavy and cold. Zeph couldn't decipher (LOL NAME PUN-) it in the dark very well but they could figure out it was a drink, a can - a can of fucking-

"Your favorite, watermelon juice."

They dumped it on him.

Happy Birthday @raggedy-dxctor you nerd, you're closer to bein' a proper boomer - your best pal moon