“Hey Pine Tree. What are ya looking for?”
“It’s a secret.”
“Sure, sure. Do you know why you’re in this forest?”
Dipper stopped and turned to look up at Bill. His face was stern and unyielding.
“I’m not telling you anything, Bill.”
After another firm glare, Dipper turned back to his path.
“Ha, why not? It’s not like it matters.”
“Of course it matters. I’m not having you mess up my life again. Not after the ‘puppet’ incident.”
“Ah ha hah ah ha hah ah ha ha haha ha! Life?”
“Yeah – my life. And your not going to mess with Mabel or Grunkle Stan or Soos or Wendy or anyone else.”
Bill stopped moving forward, floating still as he watched Dipper journey further into the forest.
“So… what’s so interesting about this ‘secret’ anyway, Pine Tree?”
“Like you don’t already know.”
“Oh come on – humour me.”
Dipper gave him a side-long glance, distrustful. With a huff, he relented;
“Fine. It’s meant to be the Ultimate Secret. The answer to Life, the Universe and Everything.”
“Oh yeah? And who told you that?”
“Someone important.”
“Not what I asked, kiddo. Who told you that?”
Dipper stopped walking, staring miles and miles ahead.
After a few moments, he started walking again.
“Like I’d tell you.”
“What are you going to do after this, then?”
“After what?”
“After you find this secret?”
“I’ll take it back to the Shack. I’ll write it in the Journal. I’ll tell Mabel. Maybe I’ll tell others.”
“And what if you don’t like the answer?”
Dipper turned to look at Bill, a puzzled expression replacing his distrustful one for the first time.
“It’s the meaning of life. How can I not like it. It’s just a fact.”
“But, kid, what if you don’t like it. Don’t know if you’ve noticed, but you can be kinda stubborn.”
“It doesn’t matter.”
“Trust me kid, you’re gonna want to think about it.”
“Trust you? Ha!”
“Well well well well well well well well. Still here, Dipper Pines?”
Dipper didn’t even dignify Bill with an answer.
“You’ve been walking around here for a while, y’know. Say; you’re walking around a forest, right?”
“Obviously.”
“Yeah, ‘obviously’. Hey have you ever actually looked at the trees?”
“Why would I look at the trees. They’re just in my way.”
“Maybe they have clues. Maybe they could lead you to the meaning of life.”
“Bill? That’s stupid.”
The demon watched as Dipper pushed aside another series of paper thin branches and leaves.
“You’re not going to find it. Not like this.”
“Not with you hovering around me all the time, yeah.”
“I mean you’re going about it all wrong.”
“I’m doing just fine, thanks, Bill.”
“Oh yeah of course. That’s why it’s taken you years.”
Dipper’s steps slowed.
“It’s still the afternoon.”
“It’s been years, Dipper Pines. Or it has for the mortals.”
He ignoreed him, pushing forward. After minutes he finally replied;
“I’m mortal, Bill.”
“Do you ever notice that string, Dipper Pines?”
“What?”
“The one unravelling from your shirt.”
“There’s no string.”
“Of course there is. Like you and Shooting Star wouldn’t have some intimate connection.”
“Stop distracting me.”
“…Okay, Dipper Pines.”
Dipper stopped and then looked back. The triangle floated gently in place.
“Okay?”
“Okay.”
Dipper nodded once, unsure, and then twice, as if confirming it to himself. He continued pushing through the trees.
After Dipper had disappeared from what passed for ‘sight’, Bill turned and followed the string. He followed it through the thick trees until it lead him to a thinner part of the forest and until it lead him to a lake shore. He floated to the edge and looked down into the mirrored surface.
Mabel’s face looked back at him, but she couldn’t see him. She stroked a picture of Dipper – a picture with all her Gravity Falls family in it. From her eyes fell tears.
Bill tried to forget the image as he watched it. He didn’t owe the Pines anything. He didn’t have to help Dipper. Didn’t have to stop the boy from wandering the forest forevermore.
If Dipper didn’t want to realise he was dead then it was no place of Bill’s to enlighten him.
Besides, if he learnt then he’d leave.
And Bill was growing to like the boy’s presence.
Tag: fanfiction
If youre a billdip fan (or you arent but love a good paranormal mystery with a heaping side order of human/demon relationships) I highly recommend checking out Conspiratheory by LCyhperED on AO3
The plot is complex and beautifully written, the characterization is completely on point and the humor is a perfect balance between light and dark. I didn’t even ship billdip until I read this ahaaahaha
Anyways here is some scenes from the first chapter
Three Sides
Amnesiac Bill AU!
Summary: Stan finds that, against his better judgement, he can learn to deal with the triangle that’s taken up residence in his home.
Setting up shop, de-cluttering, and restocking the merchandise were all semi-difficult jobs that needed to be done when one wanted to properly run a Mystery Shack. Doing all these things while being followed by a seemingly relentless triangle was, to Stanley Pines, almost one hundred times harder.
Imagine Stan pretending he hasn’t got his memories of Ford back for a while. He does it for a few reasons. He wants Ford to keep being nice to him and that doesn’t seem consistent with the relationship he remembers them having. The bad memories are some of the first to come back. Stan keeps being told he’s a hero but that doesn’t match up with the few memories he does have. Part 1
He remembers Ford yelling at him that he’d ruined his life and he remembers Ford falling though the portal. Stan thinks the person he used to be can’t have been that great. Finally, he remembers Ford saying he wanted the Shack back at the end of the summer and he’s scared he’ll be made homeless if Ford thinks he’s recovered. Part 2
Whelp, this turned into a thing. I had already wanted to write something with ‘Stan remembering the portal incident and being kicked out’ and these asks spurred me on. So here we go, some brotherly angst and fluff, blended in measure.
Morning arrived with the curtain call of a nightmare. He couldn’t exactly tell what this one had been about, the details already fading, the ghost of a cry unmade left clinging to his lips.
There had yet night so far where he hadn’t dreamed vividly, leading him to believe that his memories, while content to play hide-and-seek in the light of day, had no qualms jumping out from the shadows, shouting for his attention when he least suspected it.
Rubbing his eyes, Stan fumbled for his glasses; he was unfocused enough these days without the added blindness. As he searched for his spectacles, his fingers brushed something else, the soft fabric dragging against his skin.
Once he had his sight back, he saw what it was, and beamed softly as he recognized it.
The sash Mabel had made with her own two glitter-glue washed hands, and had recently re-given him, “To remember who you are and all you’ve done for everyone!”
Our Hero, the sash read. Stirring a feeling within his heart as it beat to the memory of the twins’ laughter, warm and dear as sunlight.
Yes, that was what everyone had been saying, ever since he awoke at that clearing in the middle of the forest. And he recalled enough details at this point to realize why they regarded his deeds so highly.
Yet he couldn’t shake this nagging guilt, this sense of being some impostor, a fraud that was not owed their gratitude. At first it was because he could not relate to this Stanley Pines whatsoever, being a stranger to his own self. Later, as the memories returned, it was for exactly the opposite reason – he was beginning to get an idea of who Stanley Pines was.
And there was some debate inside his brain on whether or not he deserved all the praise he’d received.
Old Man Powers to the Rescue
Sometime after the finale, on one of their many adventures, Stan decides to use his “old man powers” to get them out of a jam. Ford is not amused.
Sorta inspired by this post, mainly inspired by the fact that I’m so full of fluffy feelings for these two old dorks.
Apparently, local law enforcement did not appreciate two old men running away with one of their oldest, tourist-attracting monuments. As the former proprietor of a tourist trap, Stan can sympathize; however, when said stone monument was fueling an active volcano like an ancient voodoo Energizer battery, and causing seismic impulses that disturbed the giant squid population and put them into a collision with the Stan o’ War II, the least they could was offer a little gratitude, the jerks.
Local law enforcement, moreover, seems to be in no mood to listen to the explanations of two old “crackpots” that smell like fish.
Where’s a grappling hook when you need one.
They manage to sprint into town without being caught and cuffed, but the fuzz cannot be far behind, unfortunately.
Out of breath, Stan takes a minute to ignore his brother’s stready stream of unhelpful nerd babble and glance around, instinctively searching for a get-away.
His eyes linger on an ambulance parked outside a nearby café, the driver and EMT having a sandwich and coffee. And that’s when the exercise-aggravated pulse rapidly beating against his eardrum gives him an idea.
He’s found their ticket out of here. But it’ll take some conniving.
“Time to use my old man powers,” Stan mumbles shrewdly. Elbowing his brother, he whispers, “Psst, Sixer. Play along, okay?”
Ford, who has been contemplating possible and increasingly convoluted escape routes under his breath and not paying attention, replies, “Huh? Stan, did you say something?”
He receives no response, only sees his brother collapse in a heap of pain, grasping his chest.
Of course, thinking that the stress of their situation combined with Stan’s age has finally taken its told, Ford panics and calls for help.
Ten minutes later, in the back of the ambulance, Stan pokes an eye open before sitting up.
“Phew, that was close,” he exhales, a little grin on his face. “Boy, that was some ingenious improvising back there, Sixer! Getting all choked up and yelling at the poor EMT to hurry up, heh, didn’t know you had it in ya–”
“Stan!” Ford gasps, staring at his brother in relief and growing suspicion. “Are you alright, you – wait, what are you saying?”
Stan blinks. “You didn’t really think I was having a heart attack, did you?”
“What?” Ford and the hapless EMT say at the same time. Stan’s brow furrows.
“Didn’t you hear me telling you to play along?”
“No, I did not!”
“Pft, and you accuse me of never listening.”
“Stanley, I cannot believe you–” Ford exclaims, ire rising to astronomical levels. “I thought you were suffering or dying and you just – How could you fake something like that?!”
“Yeah, you’re right,” sighs Stan. “I should have known you were genuinely worried, otherwise you could never act that good. You not hearing my cue probably saved both our asses.”
Ford twitches, sensing his own blood pressure rise.
“Well, it’s lucky we’re already in an ambulance, because I’m about to knock you flat!” and it’s all the warning Stan gets before his brother lunges at him.
“Hey, would you have rather gotten caught by the fuzz?! I ain’t going back to the big house, Ford!”
“You faked a heart attack to avoid arrest, I am positive there are laws against that in this dimension!”
“Excuse me!” yells the EMT, and after remembering that they are not alone, the old men stop acting like second graders and look at her.
“For the record, I think as far as anyone else is concerned, you’re both lunatics. That being said, we’re wasting time hauling you two around when there could be actual emergencies. So please tell us where you want to be dropped off before I change my mind and punish you for interrupting my lunch break.”
Sheepishly, Ford mumbles, “The pier, thank you,” while Stan flops back on the gurney, grumbling, “I think I’d feel safer at the hospital.”
I don’t know if you take fanfic requests or not. But I was wondering about a Wendy story where older tourists try to flirt with her and Stan swoops in for the rescue. I’ve worked retail and customers can be real crummy to the female employees, it would have been great to have a Grunkle Stan have your back.
“So after your shift’s done, I was wondering if you’d wanna…”
“Pass,” Wendy replied flatly, eyes not flickering from the latest issue of Avoiding Eye Contact monthly.
“But you didn’t even let me finish!” the guy protested.
“I’ll be busy,” she assured, pointedly flipping a page. “Like I am now, being at work an’ all.”
“You don’t seem busy.”
It took a lot of inner will power not to sock him in his smug jaw right then and there. However, she was at work, and while Wendy wasn’t a model employee by any stretch of the word, she knew that losing her temper on a customer was a big fat no-no. So she settled for sheer passive aggressiveness.
“I’m on my lunch break,” she told him through gritted teeth. “Why don’t you go browse the gift shop?”
“Sure,” he said, flashing her a grin. “Help me pick something out?”
Her fingers clenched around the magazine cover. “What part of break didn’t you get?”
“C’mon, hey, all I’m asking for is a little customer courtesy-”
A blast of water to the face prevented him from finishing that sentence and had Wendy blinking with surprise. He fell to the ground with an undignified squawk, drenched in water, searching for the source of the blow.
There stood Stan, hose in hand, the other perched on his hip. His stance said he meant business, but not the kind that involved swindling tourists out of money.
“So what, my tour wasn’t interestin’ enough for ya, you had to wander away and harass my employees?” he demanded, and the guy, sopping wet, floundered to form words.
Her boss scoffed. “Save your excuses, I don’t want ‘em. And for the record, I will not hesitate to use this hose on creeps or the middle-aged.”
The guy sputtered, “M-Middle aged? Dude, I’m like, 20…”
“And she’s 15,” Stan spat. His one visible eye narrowed dangerously. "You heard me, punk. Take a hike.“
He jerked his thumb towards the exit, and the guy, dumb as he was, apparently had enough smarts to head for that direction. Wendy watched him leave with a burst of cool satisfaction; and also, a warm tug of affection for the old codger who had assisted her.
“Hey, Stan,” she said, smiling at him. “Thanks.”
“Yeah, well. I know those kind of creeps when I see ‘em. Don’t worry about it, kid,” he snorted.
Of course he’d act like it was no big deal, but she appreciated it nonetheless, and continued to smile at him. Until Stan began to grow pink under the praise, a discomfort he covered with a gruff cough.
“What, we not done with the sappy moment?” he grouched. “And why’re you outside, anyway? Get your nose outta that magazine and back to the register! We’ve got chumps ready to buy merchandise!”
Stan might not be a great boss but he’s an A+ friend (and a total papa bear at heart). I am always up for more of him and Wendy bonding. Also I really wanted to see him use the hose.
Retail can be real crummy, I’m sorry you didn’t have a Grunkle Stan, anon. Hope you enjoyed!
Axolotl
Somewhere deep in the woods of Gravity Falls is a half-buried statue. That statue is holding its arm out.
It appears to be made of stone.
Most of the residents of Gravity Falls ignore it, but not because it holds no interest for them.
Teenagers occasionally come close enough to vandalize it. To throw rocks at the giant eye in the center of the statue, spray paint curse words on it or take pictures of themselves sitting on it. When they look at the pictures, their smiles fade. They leave and never come back.
It’s not always teenagers who come. Sometimes it’s old men and women, with dark, angry secrets in their eyes. People old enough to remember the unpleasantness. The events. The stories that are never told, never passed on. Often they’re drunk. Sometimes they’re shouting. Usually, they’re crying.
Every now and then someone comes with a sledgehammer. The statue appears to be made of stone. It should crumble easily, but it never does. Even the thin little arm, barely an inch in diameter never breaks under even the heaviest of blows.
And the statue is holding its arm out.
So far, no one has tried to shake its hand.
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
i have so many aus with adder jesus christ
Cypress and Phoenix
Gravity Falls Hogwarts AU oneshot, because while Dipper and Mabel might suit different houses, they’d never choose different houses, and it’s one’s choices that matter most.
They’d
expected the letters since they were old enough to know about Hogwarts. Their
great-grandmother Pines had been something of a seer, their grandfather a
shopkeeper in Diagon Alley, their father a binder of magical books. Mabel had
summoned her favorite blanket straight out of the wash while their mother’s
back was turned when they were only five; Dipper’s magic, ever more subtle and
often bent sympathetically toward his sister’s wishes, went practically
unnoticed until the day Mabel startled him with Bear-O at nine-going-on-ten and
found herself holding nothing but air as it Vanished away.They’d
expected the letters, but the day the owl arrived with two heavy parchment
envelopes was a day of excited screaming and pouring over lists and begging to
go to Diagon Alley as soon as possible, never mind that they had well over a
month before the start of Hogwarts as it was. The excitement barely settled to
a simmer over that month, peaking the day they went shopping and got their very
own wands and then again at the end, when they finally reached King’s Cross and
Platform 9 and ¾.And
then they were off, and for something they had known and expected all their
lives, it hardly seemed real.
May's Gravity Falls Blog 