MOVED TO @faebold

No title available

★
Aqua Utopia|海の底で記憶を紡ぐ
TVSTRANGERTHINGS

Love Begins
One Nice Bug Per Day

No title available
AnasAbdin

shark vs the universe

Product Placement
Monterey Bay Aquarium
taylor price
Claire Keane
Peter Solarz

Origami Around
Cosmic Funnies
$LAYYYTER

❣ Chile in a Photography ❣
Game of Thrones Daily
let's talk about Bridgerton tea, my ask is open

seen from Malaysia

seen from United Kingdom

seen from Italy

seen from New Zealand

seen from Germany
seen from Türkiye

seen from Canada
seen from Venezuela

seen from Germany
seen from Italy

seen from Malaysia
seen from United States
seen from New Zealand
seen from Mexico

seen from Malaysia

seen from Venezuela

seen from Mexico

seen from Malaysia

seen from Netherlands
seen from United States
@calamityshrine
MOVED TO @faebold
MOVED TO @faebold
𝕱𝖆𝖊𝖇𝖔𝖑𝖉 indie, private, selective canon multimuse rp blog with muses from corpse party, bbc merlin, tomie, & more. triggering content may be present. 18+ read rules before interacting. CAARD. follows back from @wickdcreatures
❝ I’m telling you, something weird is going on in this town. Just today, my mosquito bites spelled out “BEWARE.” ❞
#𝚙𝚒𝚒𝚗𝚎𝚝𝚛𝚎𝚎𝚜 featuring: An extremely headcanon based Mason “ Dipper ” Pines of Gravity Falls; this blog explores anxiety, obsession, family, as well as the horrors of the unknown and the long lasting trauma that only the end of the world can bring about. Written either as seen in show ( twelve ) or written ten years after the shows conclusion ( twenty - two ), where Dipper is busy being an amateur paranormal investigator when he should be finishing his college homework. ( previously @/calamityshrine )
sporadically active. indie. pri. sel. written by sean. twenty - four. he/him. IHDU WKH EHDVW ZLWK MXVW RQH HBH, L NQRZ L GR.
i’ve moved dipper over to @piinetrees !
i’ve moved dipper over to @piinetrees !
DIPPER UPDATE! :)
hey guys ( and new followers looking to interact with Dipper specifically! )
i know its weird since i JUST made a promo for dipper on this blog and i was JUST saying i wasnt going to make dipper his own blog, but i have changed my mind and i am planning on making dipper his own blog, so expect a new promo (or maybe the same one?) posted from another blog here soon <3
✰*°•. RQH HBHG GHPRQ .
The little Pine Sapling might have grown into a very underwhelming Pine Tree, but his S̷͓̭̫̃̀͊͊Ů̷͉̐͝F̵̊͜F̸͓̟͐E̶̪̰̽̒̆͋̕R̸̡̮̘̆̇͜͝ͅI̵̮̩̤̞̍̀̐̈ͅN̷͈͉̦̮̉̃G̸͔̳̈́̇̓̈́ has aged like fine wine!! It’s amazing what the mind can do when given even the smallest push. All Bill really did was project a teensy-weensy, itty-bitty little concept into Dipper’s brain — just the vaguest, littlest outline of an idea ( that idea being KILLING HIS WHOLE FAMILY AND THEN HIMSELF for those who are still having trouble keeping up! ) — but he went and did the rest. ( AND BOY, DID HE RUN WITH IT! )
Bill is hiding in the spaces between nothingness, watching with a thousand unseen eyes. He knows. He knows. He knows —
He knows that there is a universe in which this happens. There is a world, far away, removed from this reality by a million-trillion-billion-gazillion dimensions, in which Dipper does this. He has it inside of him. Every conceivable version of him does.
Every conceivable version of anyone does, really!
❛ 𝙶𝙴𝙴𝚉, 𝙺𝙸𝙳! ❜
Feeling much better about things, Bill rematerializes within the nightmare. Floating about the massacre, he inspects it with great interest, poking and prodding at the various fallen Pines. Upon arriving at Mabel’s uncharacteristically quiet and limp body, his eye spills out of his triangular frame and becomes a tongue, lapping up her blood.
❛ 𝙷𝙴𝚈! 𝙻𝙴𝚃'𝚂 𝙳𝙾 𝙰𝙽𝙾𝚃𝙷𝙴𝚁 𝙿𝚄𝙿𝙿𝙴𝚃 𝚂𝙷𝙾𝚆! ❜
He disintegrates, brick by brick by brick by brick by brick by brick by brick by brick by brick by brick by brick by brick bybrickbybrickbybrickbybrick—
And then the bodies open their eyes. Lifeless eyes. The pupils are wrong. The whites are glowing yellow. Their smiles are clownish. Repulsive. Unnatural. They all open their mouths and speak in unison with a voice not belonging to any of them at all.
❛ 𝕄 𝔸 𝕊 𝕆 ℕ, 𝚆𝙷𝙰𝚃 𝙳𝙸𝙳 𝚈𝙾𝚄 𝙳𝙾? ❜
His screams surprises even himself — he has never quite heard his voice like that before. He would have thought it came from somewhere else, one of Bill’s illusions, if it weren’t for the rawness left in his throat.
MASON, WHAT DID YOU DO?
Gangly limbs claw at that carpet in a desperate attempt to flee, but no matter how hard he tries, Dipper can’t stand. HIs knees and ankles give out at every attempt, the shuddering and shaking too strong to fight. Bile rises in his throat, his stomach churns — desperate to hold onto any semblance of dignity, the terrified boy throws a hand over his quivering lips.
MASON, WHY DID YOU KILL US?
How does he get out of this? Shouldn’t he have woken up by now? Is Bill somehow keeping him prisoner? Dipper wants so badly to wake up, to call Mabel — to hear her cheery voice tell him weird, nonsensical stories or even just to talk about her day. He wants to hear Stan and Ford’s silly sibling bickering. He wants to hug his mom and dad —
MASON, LOOK AT WHAT YOU DID TO US .
Finally, the trembling boy rises to his feet with the aid of the dining room wall, hands groping along the wallpaper as he retreats back into the kitchen, making a break for the sliding glass door that should let out into the back yard. This door doesn’t, however, instead the world beyond is dark, save for tiny pin pricks of light that litter the inky blackness. Even further in the void, Dipper can see the Mystery Shack, standing tall in all its dilapidated glory. Dipper opens the sliding glass door and makes a run for it.
✰*°•. zero .
Zero appraises the kid from behind pink sunglasses, guessing at his intentions. Normally, such radiant anxiety would lead to the assumption that he’s just a particularly self-conscious fan, but there appears to be more to it than that. A journalist, maybe? Celebrity-focused reporters are usually more confident when faced with their subject, though; perhaps he’s a newbie — or a pitiful intern working for some low-level gossip rag that decided to throw him to the wolves.
Whatever. He has a few minutes.
❛ Sure thing, Sugar. Just let me order my coffee first, okay? I’ll meet you right over at that free table and we can talk. ❜
“ Cool, alright, yeah — thanks! ”
The boy practically scurries to the aforementioned table, his bookbag stuffed on the seat beside him. From the satchel he grabs out a weathered yellow notepad, on which has a list of prepared questions and prompts.
Introduce self
Ask how his days is going
Refrain from any more casual banter ( you’re not good at that )
“Are you aware of the internet rumors regarding you being a supernatural entity?”
“ What are your thoughts on the rumors? ”
The list continues for a while, only being added to as he waits anxiously for this chance to interview the blond. The cap of his pen is still caught between his front teeth when company arrives at the table.
“ Whatcha get? ” Brown eyes peer at the take-away coffee cup in the other’s finely jeweled hand. Didn’t the list say “no casual banter” ?! Also nice job introducing yourself, dumbass. Dipper winces, “ Oh, yeah, my name’s Dipper, by the way. Wow, I’m sorry — uh, didn’t say that before. ”
✰*°•. benji .
Benji lets Dipper talk without any interjection, listening intently. He doesn’t mind the chattering, especially when it’s about something interesting. As overwhelming as a flurry of words can be all at once, he does find it rather soothing to be paired with someone who can fill his supplied silence well. It’s why he gets along so well with people like Salem and Xander; as long as they’re patient with him, their contrasting personalities are more complementary than anything.
❛ I, um, I h-haven’t heard of it, no. B-But I would be interested in s-seeing anything you’d like t-to show me about it. ❜
It sounds like a curious place. Exactly the sort of place that he would find alluring.
❛ I hear th-that the Pacific N-Northwest is known for b-being… eerie. So it m-makes sense that you’d find a p-place like that in Oregon. ❜
Yes! Dipper is practically beaming, reaching down to the messenger bag left at his feet, from which he pulls a leather bound journal — It was a gift from Mabel put to good use, made by hand just for him. It’s his treasure, for more reasons than one. He flips through creased and ink stained pages, leg bouncing in focus.
“ Oh, yeah, the Pacific Northwest is strange, that’s undeniable, but Gravity Falls is... I think it’s some sort of nexus of weird energy, there is all sorts of weird things up there, things that don’t make sense! There are things I have seen up there that sound just plain made up, and to the best of my knowledge, haven’t been witnessed anywhere else in the United States, or the world for that matter! ”
The page he decides to show Benji is one depicting a Leprecorn, with a polaroid picture to prove it, “ Their horns always play “Danny Boy”, like, on loop. If you leave a bowl of Lucky Charms outside over night, your yard will be littered with them. I can’t make this stuff up! ”
DIPPER PINES ( post weirdmaggeddon verse ):
dipper has a messenger bag he carries with him at all times, full of all sorts of things “just in case”; his unfinished personal journal detailing research on the paranormal ( all finished journals stay at his dorm ), notebooks for other sorts of note taking, pens and pencils, a small first aid kit, metal water bottle ( for holding water / also doubles as a weapon if used right ), and at least one-two things of Mabel’s that she left at his dorm the last time she went to visit him, just so he can have it on him to give it to her the next time he sees her.
He felt like a creep, huddled in the corner booth of a coffee shop he knows the infamous blond movie star frequents. Even Mabel teased him for this one, telling him that he’s probably just over reacting — that the internet will say crazy things about all kinds of people all the time, especially if they are rich and beautiful. But the internet stories say otherwise — and that’s what Dipper plans to investigate.
It’s easy to spot that mop of perfect gold curls — practically everyone in the shop turns to look, Dipper included. Hm, here comes the wave of anxiety induced nausea. He rises from his seat, hoping he doesn’t look too much like a c conspiracy theorist kook as he slinks to confront the celebrity.
“ Uhm, excuse me? Zero? ” The boy’s voice cracks, because of course it does — he clears his throat into his sleeve, “ Hmm, sorry. Uh, I know this is a little weird, but can I… Can I ask you a few questions? I promise not to take up too much of your time. ”
@ohfiendangelical
i am struggling not to move dipper onto his own blog, guys. i literally made this multi so that i didnt have to have 6 billion blogs anymore but now i wanna make a new one ojnsihdf
lmao sorry i just dumped a whole ass novel on dash
✰*°•. RQH HBHG GHPRQ .
If there’s anything the Pines Family™ is good at, it’s FUCKING WITH HIS SACRED EYE. Oh, to be physical rather than metaphysical! Oh, to be
solid and
alive and
whole again!!
He wishes he could manifest in reality and tear Dipper limb from gangly limb. Or at least wear his skin again and fill him with tasty poisons and sharp objects.
The dream shudders and collapses with Bill’s loss of vision. No more boxing ring, no more audience, no more anything. No longer can he see across time and space, no longer can he see everything everywhere all at once ( the movie OR the multiverse ), no longer can he even see the enemy in front of him.
When he recovers, he is angry.
CAN YOU TELL?
❛ 𝚈𝙾𝚄 𝚆𝙰𝙽𝙽𝙰 𝙿𝙻𝙰𝚈 𝙶𝙰𝙼𝙴𝚂, 𝙿𝙸𝙽𝙴 𝚃𝚁𝙴𝙴? 𝚆𝙴 𝙲𝙰𝙽 𝙿𝙻𝙰𝚈 𝙶𝙰𝙼𝙴𝚂! ❜
The world begins to come alive again, melting upwards into a grotesque scene of what Bill imagined would have happened by now.
One moment he had solid ground beneath his feet, and the next he was floating in a sea of nothingness. For a brief moment, Dipper wonders if this is what it’s like for Bill, if this is what his world looks like without the subconscious mind to mold and bend to his will. The only sound in this chasm-esque blackness was Bill’s pained cries and the sound of Dipper’s own heartbeat — but that is short lived.
❛ 𝚈𝙾𝚄 𝚆𝙰𝙽𝙽𝙰 𝙿𝙻𝙰𝚈 𝙶𝙰𝙼𝙴𝚂, 𝙿𝙸𝙽𝙴 𝚃𝚁𝙴𝙴? 𝚆𝙴 𝙲𝙰𝙽 𝙿𝙻𝙰𝚈 𝙶𝙰𝙼𝙴𝚂! ❜
Everything starts in black and white, then shifts into the sepia of an old movie, gradually settling on a muted, slightly off-shade technicolor version of his childhood home, music playing ever-so-softly from the next room. Dipper stands in the kitchen, surveying the countertops and kitchen island — judging by the different sorts of Tupperware and food dishes, this must be some sort of a family gettogether. There is brightly colored Tupperware obviously belonging to Mabel, and the old, mustard yellow glassware he knows Stan would rather die than let go of. Dipper feels a cold jolt of dread form in his stomach; It’s too quiet — even Bill stopped looming above his head. For once, he thinks he would rather the annoying, nasally taunting. He knows that whatever it is that waits for him will be less than pleasant.
With trepidation in every step, the shaking boy walks from the kitchen into the dining room. Mom and Dad sit side by side, like they always do, Stan and Ford sitting on the opposing side. Closest to the dreaming Dipper sits Mabel, and on the other side of the table he sees himself, unblinking, staring straight at him. For a moment, he thinks that time must be stopped — everyone is so still, so quiet; Pines family get-togethers are never quiet occasions. What’s going on?
“ They’re asleep, ” Says the illusion Dipper, as if to answer the real Dipper’s question, “ I put something in their wine. I-I couldn’t do it if they were looking at me. I have to save them. Bill’s back, you know. ” Beside the spiked wine on the table rests a pistol, a line of perfectly placed bullets set just behind. Dipper’s body double starts loading the gun. “ Any one of them could fall victim to Bill next. Y-you’d know better than most how persuasive he can be. I can’t let that happen. I’m doing this for their own good. ”
The first bullet is for Dad, second for Mom, then Stan, Ford, Mabel — The walls are painted a different color now, family pictures obscured with thick droplets of blood. Dipper himself is littered with red, tears dragging the mess down his cheeks. He’s frozen in place, shock keeping him from turning his eyes away as his double turns the gun on himself.
The sixth and final pop of the gun leaves his own head feeling dizzy, his knees giving out under him. Struggling to breathe, Dipper reaches for the bloody, dangling hand of his sister.
“ Stop. Mabel — no, stop it. This isn’t real. ” It's harder to convince himself of that now — he can smell the food, he can taste his tears, he can feel the blood soaking into his scratchy t-shirt. “ Stop it. ” he can’t breathe, he can’t stop shaking — he needs Mabel, HE NEEDS MABEL.
“ STOP IT! ”