More Ramiels and their fall, with an idea how they might have been imprisoned, and Hell being a little devious and turning some of the statues that look like Ramiel to life, to taunt them.
Ramiel and Gabriel had a very close friendship, bordering on something more. During the Great War, everything became more tense, Ramiel focusing more on Earth and protecting life, even after Heaven called for the Guardian Angels to return so they can be reassigned. Ramiel remained on Earth until the very end, feeling betrayed the angels turned their back on humanity.
They tried to get revenge, cutting down several angels in their path, trying to go for the head of the Council, but they were blocked by Gabriel. A devastating fight ensued, both angels feeling absolutely betrayed by the other.
Also I have the headcanon that the angels taking off their helmet is a very intimate gesture. So having Ramiel's helmet broken open and having part of their face exposed is a very big deal for them. Plus the fact the first thing Gabriel sees on their face is pure rage and betrayal. Oh, the angst :3c
Also, pronouns...Ramiel starts off with he/him in Heaven, and as soon as they betray Heaven and fall, everyone calls them it/its. Ramiel chooses to go by they/them instead.
Plus some goofs:
(Ramiel has their own arsenal of angelic weapons, but once they get to Hell and are freed of their prison, they start adding guns into the mix)
Ultrakill brought @starfolk7 and I back together, so of course I had to draw our ocs :3c
Charlotte is a cyborg, and is the last human in existence after being put into a 200 year stasis. In an AU, Ramiel finds her while wandering listless in Hell.
Ramiel originally offers their life to Charlotte, finding it fitting the last human alive should inflict their punishment. When she refuses, Ramiel vows to keep her safe.
And as a bonus, Chris' angel oc Raguel. The man, the bitch, the legend.
“YOU SAID I CAN PAINT WHATEVER I WANTED TO!” Bill flailed as the therapeutic art teacher carried him out into the hall, set him down on the floor, and slammed the door behind him. The triangle jumped to his feet and began banging on the door. “YOU SAID IT WAS “FREE EXPRESSION DAY!” IT JUST SO HAPPENED THAT I WANTED TO PAINT CORPSES OF CHILDREN! IS THAT SO BAD?!”
He let out an irritated growl as he turned away and fixed the collar of his orange jumpsuit.
“Whatever, Jerk! I got better things to do with my time, anyway!” he scoffed. His arms immediately dropped to his sides when he remembered where he was. “Like go stare at the wall for the next eternity… … … Ugh…”
Out of habit, Bill moved forward while lifting both legs to levitate before falling flat on his face and laying there unmoving.
“... … … Right. I HATE this place…”
He paid no attention to the sound of heels on the linoleum nearby. Probably another stuck-up therapist with a superiority complex, he thought. There were a dime a dozen in this place. A new sound caught Bill's attention once the footsteps were nearly at the end of the hall. The clattering of something small and metal on the floor made him glance up to see a figure in black disappear around the corner. Just meters from him laid an ornate antique key, the source of the clanging. Bill laid back down with indifference for a moment or two before letting out a deep sigh and beginning to inch-worm toward the key. Once he was close enough, he grabbed it, forced himself to his feet, and leaned around the corner.
“Hey Pal, ya dropped this! Not that I actually care, but the last thing I need is those know-it-alls screeching like banshees about-” he called out but stopped upon finding the hall empty. “Huh. Must’ve been in a rush.”
Rolling his eye, he turned and headed for the head therapist’s office. His pupil slid toward the side and glared at a hanging security camera.
“Might as well chuck it at the head honcho so they don’t think I’m stealing it or anything.”
As Bill made his way toward the office, he inspected the key out of boredom. Every key had a story, he knew that all too well.
“Probably goes to something boring. Could go to a liquor cabinet with old man-smelling liquids or a cupboard filled with crazy cat-lady crap,” he pondered under his breath as he rolled the key over his palm. A detail on the key made him stop in his tracks, and his pupil grew small. In the center of the key was a small orb surrounded by what looked to be the universal symbol for “reset,” which was also surrounded by a double spiral and two more orbs. At the tooth’s end sat an hourglass shape. These details alone weren’t special as many keys had them, but only a key with both designs present would be on the ring of someone powerful, someone who could alter timelines and universes…
Bill felt something in his chest leap, and he quickly glanced around before backing into a janitor’s closet door and letting himself in. With his back to the door to prevent anyone from entering, he clenched the key with both hands. He could feel the sudden urge to start foaming at the mouth- er, eye.
“There’s no way!” he breathed. “A universe reset key! Oh! Oh! This is perfect! I can start all over and make sure everything goes my way!”
After a long pause and wondering if he was suffering a mental break over the discovery, Bill held the key out in one hand and furrowed his brow.
“... … … How the H-E-Double Fuck do I use it?”
Bill proceeded to move about the small room, using the key on anything that looked like a legitimate keyhole or lock, but found nothing happened each time. His anger mounted, but he tried to keep calm enough not to snap the small object in two in frustration. The fear of someone walking in on him and seeing him with the key crept up in the back of his mind. He felt as if he was on a time limit. Any second that passed meant it was a second closer to someone realizing he wasn’t anywhere to be found, and those monsters would launch a facility-wide search for him. He would lose his only chance to start over if they found him. After several agonizing minutes, Bill desperately dropped to his knees with the key in his fist, slamming it down onto the room's floorboards.
“COME ON! WORK! DO SOMETHING!” he cried. Almost as if it had been listening, the key began to glow, and Bill removed his hand to see that he had knocked a knot in the wood out and created a small hole just big enough for the key to fit. “... … … Seriously?”
He rolled his eye up in thought.
“Actually, that makes sense. No one sane would just put a key into a random hole… Trembley was a genius in that regard, after all…”
A bright light filled the room, causing Bill to shield his eye. Once it subsided, he stared at a floating scroll above the key that quickly unraveled to show a blank page where neat cursive began to write. A soft, ethereal voice accompanied the writing.
“Invocation of the highest kind
Cut off the case and undo the twine.
Affix new leaves and rebind block.
Uncork the well to reset the clock.
I hereby invoke the Archivist’s Quill
To rewrite the story and enforce my will.”
Once the voice was finished, a golden quill manifested out of thin air and floated beside the parchment, and at the bottom of the page, a line appeared where one would normally sign their name. Bill glanced around suspiciously as he took the quill. Something felt off.
“... This is too easy…”
After a moment, he shrugged and quickly wrote his name at the bottom of the page.
“Oh well! I’d be crazy not to take advantage of this!”
When he finished, another line appeared beside it, indicating the date. The tip of the quill touched the paper above that line before Bill realized that he didn’t know the date, let alone how long he had been within the Theraprism.
“WHAT!? No!” he gripped the sides of his head. “What’s the date?! WHAT’S THE DATE?!”
His eye searched the paper for the answer, but none was found.
“No, no, no! I’m so close! Why couldn’t it be one of those documents that had it printed above?!”
Footsteps and casual banter echoing in the hallway behind him made him jump. Was he about to be exposed?! Thinking fast, it dawned on him.
The janitor’s closet opened suddenly, startling two facility workers as Bill leaned out, smiling with his eye.
“Hey, quick question! What’s today’s date? You know, cuz we’re outside of any perceivable world with its own time?”
“Oh, uh-” the first worker blinked before looking at his wristwatch. “It’s-”
The second worker covered the first worker’s wrist and narrowed her eyes at Bill.
“Why?”
Bill let out a laugh that was louder than he intended.
“My, my! So mistrusting! Is it a crime to ask the date now? Is it some sort of big secret?” Bill placed his fists on his “hips.” “If you must know, I’m writing an autobiography, and I kinda need it to be as accurate as possible! Ya know! For clarity or whatever.”
The two exchanged glances, and the second worker slowly removed her hand from the first’s watch with a small nod. The first cleared his throat.
“Schmemburary 32nd, 3573.”
“Wow! Is it the Age of Aquarius already?! I’ve been here that long? How time flies! Anyway, thanks! Maybe once I’m done, I’ll let you see it! And hey, no hard feelings about everything! I’m sure you’re doing a great job here! See you next timeline! Toodles!” Bill laughed, then slammed the door behind him, leaving the two workers glancing at one another in confusion. The door locking made them jump, and Bill began to hear them banging outside, asking what he was doing. It probably dawned on them that the room he was currently in was the janitor’s closet, not one where patients were allowed. Maybe they stupidly feared he would make the universe’s equivalent to mustard gas with the cleaning supplies. He paid no attention as he rushed back to the document and wrote the date. The scroll flashed a bright white light before folding into a smaller page. “Yes! Yes! It’s happening!”
The key floated out of the hole in the floorboards as a transparent gold image of an ornate hardcover tome appeared behind the page with a lock on its right side. Its cover was engraved with various familiar symbols to indicate Gravity Falls and its inhabitants, but his own symbol was nowhere to be seen. The key found its way to the lock and opened the book, which prompted the new page to fly inside, and the book slammed shut with a dull thump. The room fell silent, saved for the facility workers' ruckus at the door, with Bill’s eye trained on the tome.
“So, what? Is that it? I-Is that what it’s supposed to do-?”
The book suddenly burst into blue flames and fell to the floor, causing Bill to jump and fall back on his non-existent ass in awe. A familiar feeling began to creep over him, one he had only dreamed of experiencing once again. It was intoxicating. Bill glanced down at his hands before snapping his fingers, and, to his delight, the same blue flames ignited on his fingertips. His laugh started quietly before growing into a maniacal howl as the book became a dome of bright white light slowly consuming the room. The door behind him gave way, and several figures tried to enter immediately, causing a crush.
“CIPHER! WHAT ARE YOU DOING!? STOP THIS IMMEDIATELY!” the head therapist screamed. Bill’s form rose from the floor and turned to them as he laughed.
“TOUGH LUCK SUCKERS! IT’S ALREADY IN MOTION! TRY AND STOP IT!” he screeched back and laughed as the bright light grew, engulfing the Theraprism. “I’M BACK!”
Somewhere beyond the stars, beyond time and space.
A figure with graying red hair in a dark blue governess gown stands in a lavish library, facing a bookshelf as she replaces several books with various symbols and colors representing stories across the multiverse.
“There…” a woman’s posh British voice sighed as a heavy brown book with a green lily pad on the cover was inserted into a spot on one of the shelves. “You can rest easy, love; the final touches have been made. Now, where did I put the owl one?”
Something hitting the floor caught the woman’s attention, and she turned to find a book with several symbols littering the cover lying on the floor. The lock had been pried open.
“What in the worlds…?” she whispered before letting out a surprised scream when the book went up in blue flames. “What?! No!”
The woman rushed forward, snatching a blanket from a nearby seat to extinguish the fire.
“Oh no! No! Not this again!” she gasped, tossing the blanket over the flames only for it to catch as well. Upon seeing this, the woman backed away, grabbed a full teapot from a small rolling stand, and smashed it over the burning book. Finally, the flames were extinguished, but when she approached the smoking mess, she saw nothing but wet ashes left. “No… How…?”
The woman’s hands balled into fists, and she let out an irritated scream.
“HADES, I AM GOING TO GIVE YOU SUCH A THRASHING!”
“The Lord of the Dead is not to blame. It is another who harbors this claim.”
The woman froze before turning to see a small sickly pale pink creature sitting where the teapot once was. Near it sat three tattered maroon books, each with a gold, six-fingered hand numbered one through three on the covers.
“... … … Frilliam? Is that you? Why are you so tiny? What happened?”
“Dame Celeste, all is not right. Cipher has found the key; his universe, he will rewrite. Gather your allies; the fight is dire. Regretfully, you must succeed before you retire.”
Once again, Gravity Falls has contradicted my ability to predict its unstable weather patterns. While cataloging several anomalies in the woods miles from my cabin, I became lost in a freak blizzard that I was gravely unprepared for. I had no choice but to seek refuge in the nearest cave and light a fire for warmth.
As I tried to stave off the cold, I realized the cave was not made of stone but dense trees frozen in an arch, creating a dark tunnel that stretched beyond the firelight. With the storm raging behind me and my curiosity piqued, I ventured forth to get my mind off the storm.
To my astonishment, the long tunnel yawned wide into an extravagant courtyard surrounding a massive decadent mansion that rivals the one owned by the Northwest, only more overgrown. It seems I have stumbled upon:
The Uncharted Mansion
My amazement at the unmarked domicile aside, I decided I had to take shelter inside until the storm passed. I'm sure whoever resides here wouldn't mind, given the circumstances.
I gained entry through a cellar door at the back, and as the exterior suggested, the interior had not been touched for some time. A quick sweep of the place told me I was alone. Each room was fully furnished with furniture covered in dust-covered sheets. Given the eerie yet enchanting atmosphere, I half-expected something to come alive to talk to me as some beast-like prince resident to make himself known.
Maybe I'm overthinking this.
Chilled to the bone, I lit the hearth in a lavish parlor using some dried wood nearby and settled onto one of the covered fainted couches to take in my surroundings. My mind tumbled with what secrets this place could hold as my excitement grew. I had not found any records of this mansion in my research, but it looked as old as the one owned by Northwest.
Surprising no one, my first thought was that this place had to be haunted. Also surprising no one, I had brought my emergency ghost-hunting kit with me. While I has unprepared for such a drastic change in the weather, I'm always prepared for an impromptu ghost hunt!
A somber portrait above the hearth caught my eyes as I set up my gear. The profile of a pale young woman with long dark hair holding a barn owl with a bowtie stood out against the black background framed in gold. Engraved at the bottom were the initials "B.B.B." Her initials? Her manner of dress was reminiscent of nobility during the pioneer days.
The longer I gazed at her, the more my face warmed at the possibility of making contact with her.
Would that count as a girl talking to me if she responded? Ghost girls are still girls, right? Then it occured to me that I had no clue what to say to her. "How's death treating you?" would probably get me slapped. I spent an hour rehearsing and trying to be as charming as possible before starting.
After hours of trying to detect any paranormal activity, I concluded that I was getting the literal cold shoulder from "BBB", which was likely given my track record with women, or this place was not haunted despite its atmosphere. Pity. I was hoping I would be able to talk to someone tonight. This place had become quite lonesome once the excitement wore off.
For years now I've wanted to make lost journal pages for Journal 1 and 2, and I've finally started! With @lord-rosenth0rne's help, we've started here, at Thorne's mansion! We had a lot of fun with this, messing with codes, and even throwing in a cameo of my oc, Riddell.
We want to keep exploring Ford's journals, along with my Tumble in Time continuity. Thorne is a fruit bat vampire who ends up being roommates with Orion, and these pages happen before Orion comes crashing into Ford's life.
If you want to take a blacklight to it, check out the read more~
No Ford blacklight commentary here, it's all Bill for some reason...
janainaart
jacobvanloon
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