Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/6232615.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Rape/Non-Con, Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      Gravity_Falls
  Relationship:
      Bill_Cipher/Dipper_Pines
  Character:
      Bill_Cipher, Dipper_Pines
  Additional Tags:
      Blind_Dipper_Pines, Possessive_Bill_Cipher, Light_Angst, Nipple_Play,
      Tentacles, Anal_Sex, Triangle_Bill_Cipher
  Stats:
      Published: 2016-03-13 Words: 3661
****** Sightless Forever ******
by FeatheredKit
Summary
     The small hand snaked its way into Dipper's hair once again, yanking
     his head upwards, roughly, and the voice began to speak again, this
     time right in his ear; "I can give you whatever you want, kid. I can
     make your novel become the greatest bestseller ever. I can make
     everyone love you once again. I can give you your sight back." It
     grew darker now, adding, "All you have to do is agree to be mine."
Notes
     This is for Emmy, one of my favorite writers and just a flat out
     awesome person in general.
Not a lot could be said about the life of Dipper Pines, simply because there
wasn't anything exciting to say in thw first place. He was creative, went to
school like everyone else, and spent most of his time locked up in his room
like any othhesitation.s weekly schedule was limited to the same thing, school
on Monday through Friday and time at home during Saturday and Sunday, only
leaving the house to go out to dinner with his family or some other special
event. But, other than that, he had a normal life.
Probably the most exciting thing anyone could say was that enjoyed writing,
maybe too much for his own good. It was one of his favorite things in the whole
world, something he had fun doing since before he could put letters down on
paper in legible handwriting.
He wrote in his room, he wrote in class when he finished his schoolwork early,
he wrote when he was finished with his homework to the time he went to bed, he
wrote while in the waiting room at the ophthalmologist's office. He even
sometimes wrote in the bathroom when his business was having trouble coming
out.
All he wanted to do was write a book. Not just any book, though, but a novel, a
long one that would be approved by the first publisher he sent it to, one that
would fly off the shelves of the book store and be made into an amazing movie
starring famous actors and actresses. It would be so popular that everyone
would demand a sequel, and he would write it, and it would be so much better
than the first book.
His book would be the type that brought smiles to even the most depressed
people. His book was going to be, as he always told his twin sister, Mabel,
when he was very young, legendary.And he spent the majority of his childhood
with this dream forever locked in his mind, forever sparking, and with
everything essay he wrote and every presentation he made for school that dream
would only grow bigger. He was on top and nothing could get in the way of the
goals he wanted to achieve.
Well, except for his eyesight.
He'd had bad eyesight since he was a baby, having to wear glasses and, soon
after, switching to contacts. But, when he was around thirteen, even with
wearing these, things were still difficult to see, not to mention that while
wearing these things he had massive headaches and felt very lightheaded. His
mother one day, deciding that enough was enough, took him back to the
ophthalmologist, and with that visit came terrible news and a surprise.
“His vision's only going to get worse." He had said, leaning over the boy and
shining a flashlight into one of his eyes. “At this rate he might go blind.”
“Is there any way to fix it?” Dipper's mother had asked in return, casting a
nervous glance at her little boy. He only walked over to her and grabbed her
hand with his small one, giving it a reassuring squeeze and pressing a soft
kiss to her cheek. She looked as if she were about to cry, and Dipper hated it
when she cried. He hated it more than he hated the ophthalmologist, and that
was saying something.
“We can give him surgery." Was the reply, “but it's only guaranteed a sixty
percent chance of success. The other forty percent says that it'll do nothing.”
“That's too risky.”
“It's either this or a one hundred percent chance of going blind.”
His mother had signed the consent form for the surgery and, less than a week
later, there was the day of the surgery itself. Of course, he had been asleep
for the entire thing, and when he'd worked there were bandages covering his
eyes and a slight ache in his head.
“Don't worry." came a voice he didn't recognize, and he let out a low sigh.
“You'll have those removed soon enough and, when you do, we'll see whether the
surgery worked or not.”
It didn't.
When the bandages were finally removed from his eyes days later he blinked,
slowly, attempting to adjust to the light and, when he did, everything was just
as blurry as it had been before. The surgery was a fail, and when he went home
the next day he spent the time in his room crying. He knew his mom was crying,
too, in the living room, along with Mabel and his dad.
He really wished it had worked so they didn't have to cry.
Over the next two years he had three more surgeries on his eyes, all of them
done in different ways, all of them as successful as the first. And, as had
been predicted, Dipper's sight only got worse and worse, until one morning a
few weeks after his fifteenth birthday when he couldn't see anything at all.
He was shrouded with darkness.
Forever,a voice in his head rang.
When he had gone with his mother back to the ophthalmologist that day, he'd
said exactly what the Pines family had feared. There was no going back now.
This was it. Dipper Pines was now blind, he couldn't see anything, and there
was no way that they could fix it.
“So that's it." He had said, more so to himself than his mother, when he was
getting into the car to go back home. His mother cried as she was driving the
entire way back, and Dipper knew already what she had to say, so she didn't
need to say it.
You'll never get to drive, Dipper.
After that, the first few weeks going blind had been problematic, to say the
least. Not only did an aide have to follow him everywhere he went, but no one
treated him the same, fellow students nor teachers. They acted as if he was a
completely different person, which he probably was now. Dipper Pines had died
with his eyesight, and that was that. Nobody knew who this new person, this
blind person, was that replaced him, but he most certainly wasn't the friend/
student that they had before.
And to think losing touch with his friends and teachers was bad enough, but
over time Dipper began to lose touch with his own family as well. Even the
strong bond he had with his own sister- sharing everything, hanging out all the
time, watching movies- had died. It felt as she she didn't care for him at all.
They barely spoke anymore, only ever really exchanging a few hellos and good
nights. Dipper wished to talk to her more but never did, knowing that she too
didn't even know who he was.
He spent more and more time alone in his room, never really coming out, not
even for food. He lost a lot of weight over some period of time, feeling his
own ribcage when he would bring his hands under his shirt. He knew that he
must've been under seventy pounds by now, an unhealthy weight, one he didn't
really have the strength or the hunger to build up.
Dipper Pines fell into depression.

Now here he was, his covers pulled over his head and a box of tissues sitting
next to him on his bed. He reached over with one hand and grabbed one of the
tissues, blowing his nose before tossing it absently away, beginning to rub at
his eye. He couldn't see himself, but he was sure that if someone were to look
at him now he would seem like a mess- red, puffy eyes, much too thin, wearing
dirtied clothes, smelling terrible, eyes seeming to stare right past you.
I'm worthless, was what he told himself often, was what he was telling himself
right now, in his very moment. He knew he wasn't speaking out loud but, if he
was, he would be screaming. I'm worthless. I'm fucking worthless!
He was sure nobody wanted to speak to him because they were disappointed. After
all, who would want anything to do with him?He was a complete and other mess,
not to mention the fact that he was blind now, meaning he couldn't do anything
right anymore. He'd been skipping school for...what? Had it been two weeks,
now, and he couldn't even look anyone in the eye when speaking to them.
Nobody wants me. He thought, worrying his bottom lip.
He could've sworn that he heard somebody say, I do.But it didn't sound like it
was coming from anyone he actually wanted to say it.

It was odd, how different the world was when he slept.
He could actually see in his dreams, which was odd, but what he saw were only
memories from when he actually had sight. Nothing new was there, nothing he
hadn't already seen or been through, nothing he wanted to be able to see again.
He wondered what had happened to the loose leaf paper he used to write on. Was
it still somewhere in his room, or did someone throw it all away? He'd be angry
if someone did, but he could also understand why they would do so. How was he
supposed to write if he could no longer see? How could he trust anyone to write
for him? If they messed up his book then it wouldn't be as good as he wanted it
to be.
Huh.He couldn't even remember what his book was supposed to be about, all he
could remember was that it was supposed to be a mystery novel of some sort. It
felt like an eternity had passed since he'd last brought pen to paper,
listening to the light sound of the words being written down, the smell of the
ink.
Too bad he'd never be able to do anything like that ever again.
But what about now? Where was he? He knew he was standing somewhere, and it was
cold, much too cold for a day in the middle of September (but that was probably
because he was bare foot). Not to mention that this place didn't feel familiar
at all.
He was asleep, right? He was sure he was. But he couldn't see right now. And
this place...this place was new. It felt empty, like nothing was supposed to be
here, a black void that held no purpose. It was just there.
Like he was.
“Hello?” He called, his voice echoing.
No reply.
Right.
After all, nothing was supposed to be here, right? Or was it a place where
people who werenothing went? Was he dead? He was sure that he couldn't have
died of hunger, considering that he'd basically been living off of the stash of
granola bars under his bed. Sure, he knew his parents and Mabel left him food
every day and that it always settled on the dresser next to his bed, but he
never ate that. He barely even ate his own granola bars.
It took him a moment to realize that he'd spent the last two weeks starving
himself. He shivered.
He would've taken a step forward if it wasn't for something suddenly latching
onto his wrist, bringing him into a vice grip. It was cold, it was wet, it was
slimy. And, before he could even offer any sort of reaction, it was tugging his
arm up, so much so that his one side was beginning to be lifted off the ground.
The same thing happened to his other wrist, and now he was hanging with his
toes barely brushing the ground.
He opened his mouth to let out a cry, only to have no sound escape, as if he
were in space. But space didn't have ground. Where was he? And...and why was it
suddenly getting so much colder here?
Trying to pry his wrists away from whatever was holding him up without success,
Dipper felt his own heart thumping painfully in his throat, ready to burst, and
his lungs seemed to be filled with air and he couldn't breathe now and oh God,
he just wanted to get out of here. He didn't even care where he was anymore,
this place was bad, bad news, and he had a dark premonition that something
terrible was going to happen to him if he stayed any moment longer.
“Stop.”
He did.
Panting, he tried to locate the source of what had just spoken to him, whipping
his head around as if he could actually see, listening closely for some type of
sound- breathing, footsteps, anything- that could indicate this. And, when
nothing came, he went limp and hung his head low, sweat beginning to beat down
his forehead and dripping down off of his chin and landing on his toes.
“I-I don't know where I am." He said.
“I know." was the reply, and it was when this was said that Dipper realized
that the voice wasn't just coming from a specific spot. It was coming from all
around him, echoing, rattling his brain, sending little shivers up his spine,
making him have the urge to cry all over again. But he didn't want to cry,
because he'd already done too much of that already. “I brought you here.”
I brought you here.
“Why?”
For a moment no words were spoken and Dipper was worried that the person had
left. He started kicking frantically with his legs, trying to slip out of his
grips once again, letting out cries of fear. That was, until another appendage
wrapped itself tightly around his mouth, muffling his sounds, and out of
instinct he bit into it. Cold liquid seeped into his mouth, making him gag,
only causing it to grip tighter.
“I told you to stop.”
There was a soft sound, that of fingers snapping, and suddenly the entire upper
half of Dipper's body was suddenly so much colder. He shivered again and lifted
his legs to his stomach, only managing to hold them up for a few seconds before
they gave out with exhaustion. He really wished that he was more flexible.
“Now are you going to listen to me?”
Dipper nodded without hesitation.
This voice, the one that was speaking to him, it was odd. He'd never heard it
before in his life, and it was dark, almost evil. It was neither male nor
female, high nor low. No, the only word that could accurately describe the
sound of this terrifying voice was demonic.It was absolutely demonic, as if it
could make buildings crumble and mountains fall.
It was horrible.
“Good boy.”
A small, a verysmall, hand placed itself on his bare chest, coming to help him
realize that he was shirtless, and lightly began to move down, lower, lower,
dangerously low, until it met the belt loops of his jeans. It tugged lightly,
the voice pressing on, “If you continue to be a good boy then I'll reward you.
If you don't, though, I'll have to punish you. Do you understand?”
Dipper nodded again.
The hand pulled away, the warmth of it leaving, and the boy found himself
missing it's presence. He whimpered lightly, blinking a few times, one again
with ears perked, anticipating something else to happen.
“Now, I think there's something we need to discuss, yes?”
Discuss.
The word alone was enough to make Dipper cry out again, more of the liquid
seeping into his mouth. He gagged again. It tasted horrible.
“Swallow.”
He did.
It didn't slide down his throat just right, making him cough, his chest
beginning to heave with the effort it was taking to breathe. He let out long,
forced breaths through his nose, the smell of the appendage around his mouth
making him wrinkle it on disgust.
The hand returned again, this time lightly stroking his hair, and he absently
leaned into the touch, his muscles starting to relax since for the first time
since he'd gotten here. It lightly scratched his scalp, sending pleasurable
shivers down his spine, and he moaned lightly.
There was a chuckle, the hand still petting. “It's okay. You don't have to be
scared around me. I'm only here to help you.”
Help? How was this- any of this- helpinghim? And how was he supposed to not be
scared of this person, if this even was a person? It...it was the most terrible
thing he ever experienced, and he wanted it to go away. Not for the first time
he wished he could see so he knew what was going o-
“AH! ” He screamed, his voice muffled, when the hand moved down and began to
flick at one of his pink nubs. Without any thought he arched his back so he
could meet the touch, moaning again, this time not so softly, his pants
suddenly feeling much tighter than they had been before. Oh. Oh, God…
“You think too much." said the voice, squeezing his nipple now. It hurt so
much...but it felt so fucking good. Another chuckle. “If you like that, there's
so much more I could do. I can make you feel sogood, I promise. And you'll love
every moment of it.”
That sounded amazing…
The small hand snaked its way into Dipper's hair once again, yanking his head
upwards, roughly, and the voice began to speak again, this time right in his
ear; “I can give you whatever you want, kid. I can make your novel become the
greatest bestseller ever.”
Dipper was about to ask how it knew about that when it squeezed tighter on his
hair, continuing, “I can make everyone love you once again.”
Now that, thatsounding promising. Spending time with Mabel again, family
nights, everything...Oh, God, that sounded like the greatest thing ever.
“I can give you your sight back.”
My sig-
He couldn't finish his thought, however, before his pants were tugged down
quite suddenly, leaving him in his boxers. He let out another cry, this one of
protest, causing the appendage to squeeze so tight that it was now difficult
for him to breathe out of his nose as well.
The voice grew darker now, adding, “All you have to do is agree to be mine.”
Yours.
Dipper's boxers were now sliding down his legs, leaving him and hitting the
floor. He was completely exposed, his arousal now very visible, and now the
hand was touching his stomach, sending electricity buzzing throughout his
entire being, and it began to go lower as it had done before.
It gripped his arousal, and another hand joined it, beginning to stroke it
lightly. Dipper cried out again at this, once again arching to meet the touch,
the words Please and Stopstill buried beneath what was holding him down.
One of the hands brushed over the tip and he gasped, eyes fluttering, wanting
to pull away but not having the strength to. If he did he knew that the voice,
or whatever owned it, would do something terrible to him. And he really didn't
want to get it into a bad mood.
“It's okay. You're doing great.” was the praise that hit Dipper's ears, making
his face warm to the tips of his ears, and he now relaxed completely, allowing
the hands to stroke him as they pleased. Every touch, every movement, was fire,
and now that he was into it, he didn't want it to stop.
Then the hands pulled away. Another finger snap and the appendage around his
mouth was removed, allowing him to breathe, and he gasped for air, taking deep,
loud breaths, his chest heaving. His lungs were burning at this point, but that
was nothing compared to the discomfort that was now haunting him between his
legs. He leaned forward, his lips parted slightly, eyes closed, and he
whispered, in the softest of voices, “Please...don't stop.”
“I won't.”
Before he could ask what this meant another appendage was suddenly on his leg,
cold slime beginning to run down onto the ground, and it began to move up,
slowly. Dipper knew what was going to happen and braced himself, allowing his
body to go limp.
It was probing his enterence now and, oh boy, wow, god.It pushed into him, the
feel of it inside him making a new wave of shivers run up his spine, both with
fear and pleasure, and it hit a certain spot, making his scream out, so loud
that his lungs were starting to ache all over again.
It pulled out. Then pushed in again.
And again.
And again.
And again and again and again.
Once it began to pick up a pace it no longer hurt as much, and Dipper was
leaning backwards into it, moaning each and every time it hit his prostate. He
was so close now, oh god, he just wanted to-
It pulled out. And it didn't go back in.
Dipper shifted, letting out a strangled, “Why?” Why did you stop. I-I'm so
close. Please...please just let me come.
The voice asked, lightly, “So what do you say? Do you agree to be mine?” He
didn't know he was going to have to make a choice so fast- “Remember, I can
give you whatever you please. We can do thisagain, as many times as you want,
and I came make all of your dreams come true. No one will ever judge you again,
because you'll suddenly be so much more than them.”
Would he really? “You won't need them anymore, because you'll have me. You'll
have everything. You'll be a god,kid, you'll have everything you've always
wanted, you can get revenge on all those that have wronged you. Just call me
Master.”
“Master.” Dipper whispered, without any thought, and suddenly the appendage was
thrusting into him again.
“Good." the voice replied, one of the hands ruffling his hair again, “Good boy.
Now come for me.”
He did.
Please drop_by_the_archive_and_comment to let the author know if you enjoyed
their work!