He doesn’t know anything and it drives him wild with frustration.
He’s always been this way – he feels like his synapses are firing all wrong. As a baby he doesn’t smile, he just stares at his parents, unblinking, fascinated, until they become unnerved and stop talking to him. He’s a toddler who laughs loud and high-pitched when the cartoon coyote falls off the cliff, laughs until he cries because pain is funny. He learns how to read when he’s three and doesn’t understand what’s so special about it, little symbols that turn into words. He doesn’t have any friends because he talks in classes and he pushes other kids down during recess. He’s never bullied, if only because he never understands that someone is trying to bully him. He laughs when a boy in his sixth grade breaks his nose, because the crunching sound was funny, just like in the cartoons. Whole school-yard goes silent, stares at him, and he doesn’t care.
For as long as he can remember he’s been a frequent visitor to school counselors and psychiatrists, who’ve called him a shopping list of things: a liar, a faker, ADHD, ADD, autistic, a sociopath. He reads books about psychology and it feels like a code he can’t quite crack, like people are making things up, and he’s annoyed and bored.
He only dreams in black and white, but his dreams are always through someone else’s eyes and in amazing, articulate detail. He recounts a dream for a history essay and gets an A. He tells another one to his mother and she looks at him like she’s afraid.
Sometimes he doesn’t remember what her name is. It’s not that he has a bad memory – far from it – he just finds that he doesn’t care. She’s just a worried, pinched face hovering somewhere in his peripheral vision.
He dreams about names and faces. In high school he starts drawing pine trees in all of his notes – stylized, simple outlines that somehow feel meaningful.
Time passes and he feels more and more wrong in his skin. He researches – he stays up nights, and he wonders whether he’s transgender because he doesn’t really feel like a man, he doesn’t feel like anything. He gets more and more frustrated the way his parents tiptoe around him, and he knows what they think – he knows that they would’ve wanted someone better, someone who feels like they do, and he doesn’t care, and yet he does, and it’s driving him insane. He goes outside and he finds a pine tree and he screams and he hits and he kicks it and he doesn’t feel any better.
…..soooo another au in which bill is in a human body but he doesn’t remember who he is
Hard to believe it’s actually over. What a crazy experience! I’m not just talking about the work I did but I met some of my dearest friends on that crew.
I’m not good at writing these kind of things so I’ll just get to it.
Thank you Alex for giving this newbie a chance to prove herself, thank you Braly for the support from the very beginning, thank you Cory for letting me ask a lot of dumb questions, thank you Stephen for the patience while I learned how to do my job, and a big THANK YOU to the rest of the crew for challenging me and making Gravity Falls one hell of a production to work on.
I boarded the goodbye scene on my last day.
Dipper: Bill why is our house full of cats?
Bill: **Surrounded by cats, holding like three** Luicfur needed friends, I needed friends too. BECAUSE YOU BANISHED ALL MY OTHER FRIENDS! LET ME KEEP THE CATS!