Cipherstarling's Masterlist

What a harmless little creature! based on this

that one fucking pingu screenshot.

How do you cope with the unending void you feel after you finish your favorite show Gravity Falls

Missing his smile. The one he helped wipe off his face. Yknow, like a hypocrite

If you’re being questioned about a murder by one of those hobbyist detectives. it is an absolute rule that you have to be washing the dishes or pruning some plants while talking, so that when they finally get around to asking a pointed question about where you were at the time of the murder you can freeze for a second with a knife in your hand. It’s enrichment for them you gotta understand. They thrive off of red herrings, it’s their favorite treat, so even if you have a rock solid alibi and weren’t involved with the murder at all you have to give them some reason to be suspicious of you. It’s what friends are for.

Till Weirdmageddon Do Us Part [Ch. 9]

(just wanted to share the art I made for this chapter!)

He went quiet.

For once, for real, for painfully long seconds, Bill Cipher had nothing to say.

His aura crackled once, then dimmed, then crackled again like it couldn’t decide whether to explode or implode or just sulk eternally into the breakroom tile. You saw his pupil jitter, the way it always did when something was clawing around behind his ego—a memory maybe, or something worse. It trembled. Flickered. Shifted sideways into symbols. Not words. Not pictures. Just impressions. A series of broken, ancient runes flickering rapid-fire in the lens of him. A hand. A flame. Something flat. He looked like the moment after the explosion—smoke rising, colors wrong, edges too sharp to touch. And you had seen this kind of look before. In mirrors. In others. In yourself, once, on the floor of a stranger’s bathroom while the wallpaper peeled off and the world didn’t. He stared up at you. No tricks. No static smugness. Not even the shrieking gremlin sarcasm he wielded like a chainsaw. Just—quiet. Broken code humming against the tile.

You thought, maybe, if you blinked, he would scatter like light off glass.

But then—

“…You meant it,” he whispered. Not dramatic. Not teasing. Just a single note, cracked.

(Font used: Eregyrn Falls (Bill) <3)

THE HANDS LOOK SO WEIRD THO LMAOOO

[AO3 LINK HERE]

May or may not finish this.

BUT YA KNOW WHO ELSE IS FINISHING TONIGHT-?

An artpiece for @candycatfalls ' Pin the Old Man Down Day- My new favorite holiday!

Hoo boy, all the typos I gotta fix

Bill Cipher x Bounty Hunter!Reader Concept

Wherein Bill escaped the Theraprism, and Dimension #5150 sends their best bounty hunter after him. YOU!

But none of them ever expected you to fall in love with him.

The Theraprism was a place built to rehabilitate. But with the Great Axolotl's sudden disappearance, a lot of convicts used the opportunity to slip away and disappear. Among them, was the infamous Bill Cipher.

~~~

You pick up his book after finding the last human who read it. Your mind is hungry for information about him- the first ever convict to escape the Theraprism, a space outside of time, a place of redemption.

How evil and powerful do you have to be to escape such a place?

You convince yourself you're reading it to find out where he is. To know the scale of Bill Cipher's crimes. But deep down, you knew better than that.

It was helpful in tracking the triangle down, but also for entertainment.

"Slow days? Why don't you come on over for a drunk at O'Sadley's, my favorite pub in the entire Rock Bottom Asteroid Belt of the Vicious Spiral Nebula! Their "I'm Fine" juice is guaranteed to keep you coming back."

The book entertains you on a boring day.

"Ever think to yourself, mystery reader, what would happen if two warring planets collided in an epic, world-ending display? Ya ever pick up any romance novels? I'm a sucker for Enemies-to-Lovers fics, myself. So I made two planets kiss once, it was COOL! FIXED THEIR LITTLE WAR PROBLEMS TOO AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!"

There was a lot of filler pages just filled with "AHAHAHA"s, you noticed.

The contents were indeed disturbing. At least, to a mortal or any normal person. You've seen worse in your line of work, really. But so far, all you saw were funny little stories of mischief and shocking antics. Nothing of a dimension or planet killer.

Perhaps, that was all that he wanted you to see.

"SAY PAL, I KNOW I ASKED YA LIKE A BAJILLION TIMES ALREADY... BUT D'YA WANNA MEET UP FOR A DRINK? I COULD USE A NEW DRINKING BUDDY AFTER THAT LAST ONE GREW A SPINE AND TRIED TO ZAP ME OUT OF EXISTENCE!"

The book spoke to you. Tried to befriend you. You knew deep down it was a ruse, that it was manipulating you. It even asked you to give it some of your blood, once. Ha! No one would ever fall for that. So you decided to take a break from it.

The next time you opened it, the words written there weren't so funny.

"Y'know, I wish I could see the look in your face while you're reading this", the book wrote, its ink fading into splotchy letter.

"Why are you stalling? What's taking so long? Can you really not find me, or is it that...."

A singular, giant eye flashed through the darkened pages of the book, startling you.

"...You're having fun reading my book? You're enjoying my stories, aren't you. Ya sick little freak! We're not so different, you and I."

"You're not as good and moral as you think you are, [REDACTED]."

Upon surrendering the book to the Wardens of the Theraprism, you were tasked with hunting Bill down.

You closed the book after that, heart hammering in your chest. You couldn't look at it for days.

~~~

Shaken yet determined to do your job, you set out after him. It needed to be done, the book was made of lies. The book was made to manipulate the reader.

You needed to do your job, before Bill destroys more lives. You needed to be a Warden, and bring him to justice.

You needed to go back to your monotonous, violent, and bleak life, where all you did was spill blood and-

You needed to find Bill.

He asked you time and time again to have a drink with him.

And you knew just the bar to find him in.

Psst, thanks for reading!

Pitching an idea into the void here. The reader isn't human, still fleshing out what she is. But she is an entity whose SOLE purpose is to be a bounty hunter and warden to the Theraprism.

he's doing great

part 4 of 19 of kinktober: dreams

bill cipher x reader

plot: you couldn’t truly escape bill, not even when you slept and tonight, he had a special sort of visit arranged — a/n: there is some plot to this one — themes: yan!bill cipher, dreams/mindscape, teasing, orgasm denial, gn!reader, dubcon — w.c: ~1.6k

kinktober masterlist • main masterlist • ao3 • part 2 >

Sleep was something of a fifty-fifty endeavour for you.

In the best case scenario, you would wake up fully rested with no further issues, but in the worst case? You’d see him there; his looming presence haunting the darkest depths of your mind—forcing you to remember just how much control he truly had over you—again and again.

For a while, he left you alone, letting your mind recover for just long enough to be lulled into a false sense of security. Tonight however, just as you finally were about to fall sleep… you got a bad feeling.

Bill was waiting for you and you could tell.

(It was all too good to be true. You were never free to begin with, you silly thing.)

Your dreamscape itself was pretty simple, as far as you understood it. Your mind presented memories in a large paper calendar with core fragments highlighted in a red marker. A lot of what was stored was mundane, but if you flipped the pages back far enough, you could relive the one and only time that you allowed Bill to get close to you.

It wasn’t just highlighted in red marker, but it had been tampered with; decorated around the borders by Bill himself. Small yellow triangles scratched in glittering ink and etchings of singular eyes familiar to his own.

A memory locked away of you being just nineteen, maybe twenty, wasting away over the summer back home from college. You didn’t have much going on and the temptation to let Bill in was stronger than ever.

You shouldn’t have done so…

(…But you did.)

You hated that memory; a sign of momentarily lapsed weakness captured and replayed for as long as you lived. Dreams were something you didn’t have anymore otherwise. It was either nothingness or it was something like this.

You were exhausted.

The memory was always the same, too.

You watched on from within the shadows as though you were a helpless passenger with no control of the vehicle; witnessing the time that you let Bill in when you shouldn’t have. His sudden appearance and mocking demeanour betrayed no hint at him likely anticipating it at the time—so smug and prideful—a willing victim fallen to manipulation.

It was a humiliating sight to witness as your past self became so flustered and overwhelmed like soft putty in his hands. You had no choice but to endure this replaying memory, watching as his arm snaked towards your lower body, going places where you should never have let him go.

Curse that… entity.

That wretched demon.

Why did he have to make you relive this scene again and again? Was it because he knew about your struggles to get off in the waking world? You betted that he did. Watching from the shadows as you tried to touch yourself to relive that moment, only to be shamed by your own self out of doing so.

You couldn’t ever follow through.

Not when he was potentially watching.

(And you would hate for him to tell you that he told you so, that you can’t help but still want him back. Oh no, no, no. The very least you could do was to deny him that pleasure.)

While distracted, you accidentally gulped just loud enough for your voice to bleed into the memory. Shit. You managed to avoid him for so long by enduring and keeping quiet, but now you had inadvertently doomed yourself to something else.

Bill dislodged from your past self, leaving them to sulk back onto the floor. His voice was deceptively enthusiastic as always, emanating an eerie whimsy, “Well, well, well. Look who’s all red faced from spying on what was supposed to be a private moment? Who knew that it would get you so worked up?”

“I’m not…” you trailed off, feeling less than confident in your reply, “I'm not worked up.”

“No?” he taunted, sounding disbelieving before pointing his cane back to your dream self, still sulking but otherwise panting and recollecting their breath from stolen pleasure. “I think that you’re lying…! Or, no… Could it be that you’re—that you’re jealous? Oh wow, now this is rich!”

You didn’t dare reply but you did freeze a little as he resumed his actions on you instead. This was a new development. He pushed his cane in between your legs, willing you to clench tight against it with an unseen force before wriggling it around long enough to elicit a pleasured response.

“Oh, don’t tell me that this is all it takes to get you going these days?” Bill mocked, slightly pumping and stirring the stick around your clenching form. “I didn’t think that you would be so sensitive, so desperate and dare I say… needy? You really are full of surprises!”

Finally finding your backbone, you attempted to put a stop to the madness, “Get out of my head, Bill.”

He could only let out a dry, humourless laugh before sliding out the cane from your teased sex at last.

“Silly you!” he beamed once more, pushing you up against the wall from that same hidden power from before. “Why not just admit it, huh? You actually kind of liked that! Didn’t you?”

“N-no,” you denied with an unconvincing stutter, “it’s n-not like that.”

Bill however didn’t waver, slipping his hands beneath the fabric of your crotch, reaching to feel the evidence of your arousal. “Wow! So excited and just from a little touch! If you didn’t like that, then why are you reacting that way, huh?”

“Stop—“ you tried to punch back, your own words betraying you as you in fact didn’t want him to cease.

“—yeah, yeah,” he sneered, pulling back at your request, but you could tell that it was far from over.

You watched as he floated around with some sort of purpose, the once nostalgic interior of your old bedroom fading away into a blank void, along with your past self dissolving into nothingness.

“You can pretend to hate me now,” Bill continued after a moment of tense silence, “but deep down, I know you crave a release, don’t you? And hey, I’ll tell you what. Give in to me and I’ll leave you alone for a whole year.”

“What’s the catch?” you wearily sighed.

Bill laughed heartily to himself before propping the came back to where it was, his voice thoroughly amused, “Aw, nothing! Why do you always think there’s a catch?” he asked, lazily stroking at your sex, seemingly taking pleasure in watching you writhe, “I can be nice… sometimes! As long as you can admit that you can’t live without me… then I’ll give you that and more.”

“You know that I’ll never do that,” you shot back.

“Still playing hard to get?” he asked, swirling the wand around some more. “Not a problem. I can always rekindle that spark. How about I remind you exactly why, that for a while, you couldn’t stop thinking about me all the time…” he trailed off slightly, his voice temporarily fond before returning back to ridiculing, “…or maybe I’ll tease your past version who did like me over and over. Or better yet! Maybe I’ll just stick around in your head forever. You’re too much fun to mess with, after all.”

The atmosphere in the void pocket then dropped to something else, something thick with danger and perhaps even longing possession. His form faded towards you, flashing up tight against you in stark, jarring clarity.

With a wide, manic eye, his voice became low, methodical and even suggestive, “Let’s face it, you’ll never get rid of me… at least not fully. I’ll always be a part of you and because of that… I’m… not… going… anywhere!”

His words built up in slowly charged pulses, practically erupting with menacing glee by the final word. In a way, you had to admit it, he was good at messing with you.

You had barely any time to process what he was saying however, before his hands were back to where they were. He stroked at you with more passionate fervour that time, stealing occasionally uttered moans that broke out of your lips, sending radiating waves of red that coloured your cheeks in embarrassment.

“Aw, look at ya,” Bill caught on, catching the note of your slipped whimper by holding one hand to the side of his linear surface, as though taking it into his body. “So confused, but so aroused…! Oh, that’s adorable!”

You bit your lip as the pleasure within you rose with simmering force, feeling a tightening stir boiling from within your lower abdomen. He knew exactly what he was doing—getting you all hot like that—writhing and squirming at his will and yet, as he drove you closer towards the edge, he stopped. Bill abruptly pulled away from you and didn’t allow you to have the final push that was otherwise needed for you to come undone. Being as cruel as he was, he yanked his hand back and hovered ever so slightly above you, feeding you a look of pure, utter contempt.

“Not so fast, silly. Looks like you got a little too excited, huh?” he laughed, propping his cane that time underneath your chin before forcing you to look up at him, “you know the drill: I’ll only play nice when you can finally admit that you need me… until then, enjoy waking up all alone, frustrated and confused.”

And with that, you tore upright into the waking world a cold, clammy sweat feeling angry. The last remnants of an already fleeting warmth evaporated away into nothingness—leaving you to wonder if it actually did happen—but if Bill had forced you to forget the pleasure he had caused.

Knowing him, that’s exactly what he did.

Just to be cruel.