From Sweethearts to Soulmates [A Stanford Pines x Reader]

Chapter 13

HEAVY GORE WARNING! This chapter isn't necessary for the overarching storyline, it's optional. All you need to know, is that the reader has an awful, no good, very bad dream involving Bill.

I woke in a wasteland. Getting up from the floor, I realized the wasteland was... Gravity Falls. My beloved home was in shambles, my knees shook underneath me as I tried to hold back tears. The taste of iron on my tongue, the smell of fresh blood, it was almost too much to bear.

I set off through town, keeping my eyes to the ground, ignoring the utter destruction of my town, of the people in it. The bodies thinned out as I got into the woods, but The Mystery Shack was... it was so much worse.

Waddles and Gompers nuzzled each other on the front porch, blood pouring from their eye sockets. They were dressed in the wedding outfits Mabel had made for them. Bile rose in my throat, but I swallowed, pressing on through the front door.

Soos and Wendy were standing in the gift shop, seemingly talking to one another. Soos was leaning on a broom, intestines spilling onto the hardwood floors from a giant gash in his stomach. Wendy was sitting with her feet on the counter, the skin around her mouth stripped back to reveal her teeth, an eternal haunting smile. Both their eyes were missing.

Tears began to run down my face as I stepped into the living room to catch a breath. The soft buzz of the TV static calmed me a little, until I noticed the figure sitting in the old armchair. Stan's throat was slit, eyes missing just like the others, but he still had a charismatic smile plastered on his otherwise blank face.

Without much though, I sprinted up to the attic, murmuring a prayer to whatever deity might've been listening, although I doubted there was one who cared. I pushed open the twins' bedroom door and my heart shattered. I turned to a corner and vomited everything my body had.

Both Dipper and Mabel sat on the floor, leaning against desk legs, holding hands. Intestines spilled from their stomachs, tied together in a box. And their eyes. They hadn't lost both, like everyone else, they'd just lost the one's furthest from their sibling. Those eyes seemed to stare me down as I held a hand over my mouth, backing out of the room as fast as humanly possible.

I ran through the house looking for Ford, tears streaming down my face as I sobbed out his name. I took the elevator down to the basement, curling into myself as I cried.

When I got down there, I was devastated to see that the portal was still assembled. But it wasn't until I stepped towards the deactivated monstrosity that I notice him. Ford's body had been positioned to sit in the circular entrance to the portal, chest carved open. His lungs and heart had been removed and a puddle of blood was pooling below him, dripping from his lifeless fingers. Drip, drip, drip. His eyes stared me down, judgement written across his features.

A message began to appear in front of me, scrawled in that same crimson. You could've stopped this.

My knees finally gave out and I dropped to the floor, sobbing, when a bone chilling laugh echoed through the room. My head snapped up, automatically on the defence as he appeared. "Beautiful, isn't it, Moonstone? One of my greatest masterpieces!" I stared down Bill Cipher with rage greater than I had ever felt, fuelled by my anguish.

"I swear to whatever god you believe in, Cipher-" He cut me off with raucous laughter.

"Please, haven't you heard?" He blew up to a hundred times my size, the light from his eye blinding me. "I AM GOD." He returned to his regular size, still laughing manically, hand now bathed in blue flame. "Just shake my hand, Moonstone, and you could save them all!"

"Save it, Cipher." I snapped back, standing up and walking from the basement, tears still waterfalling down my face.

I sat down on the front porch, taking out a switchblade Stan had given me a couple years back. I was so tempted to take it to my own eyes, to be blind like my family, but I closed it, deciding I was going to take one last to drink to my beloved home.

As I put my hand on the front door, I was torn from the dream, bolting upright.