This one will be longer since it's a two-parter, but I think it fits!

Ruling over his own universe had been more mundane than he'd initially thought. He'd tried the absolute chaos thing, then when that got boring, he did a proverbial cleanup of his playroom and started more orderly play.

He found that alternating between the two held some satisfaction without the overwhelming boredom that sometimes came with getting everything you want. Sometimes letting his toys make their own decisions and play through their own lives without his interference was better. He still liked surprises, after all.

Eons passed, and soon he found it necessary to allow the Earth to form, go through its ages, and form up sentient creatures. As soon as the meatsacks began showing a modicum of intelligence, he put himself out there as a deity. Naturally, there were other interpretations, but that was fine by him. The ones that got it right got bonus prizes, which just made things more interesting.

There were other things to think about on that planet, especially concerning one particular family…so he figured, what the hell. Might as well give it another go.

"It turned out to be twins, Mr. Pines," a nurse said, looking quite tired since the labor had been almost twelve hours and it was three in the morning. "Fifteen minutes apart. The second one had a little trouble breathing on his own at first, but they're both fine and look perfectly healthy. Would you like to hold them?"

Bill tapped his fingers against his arm, keeping the features of Filbrick Pines neutral. His first go-around at this back in the universe that no longer existed, he had refused. It wasn't uncommon for his 'type' to refuse holding the babies, so he had THAT excuse.

This time, however…

He nodded, and the nurse led him inside the room. His wife was asleep in the bed, and there was another nurse quietly wrapping the babies up in blankets. Bill glanced down at them, not even needing to count fingers to know which was which. He could already sense their souls, feeling the energy that was his own flickering off of them.

How EASY it would be to take them now and put them into incubators…

He was snapped out of his musings when he heard one of the nurses whisper to the other about 'the unfortunate one with six fingers', and resisted the urge to shuffle the functions of the functions on her face and show her what a REAL freak would look like. Instead, with practiced ease—at least Shooting Star's incessant demand for hugs and cuddles paid off—he picked both of the babies up, their fussing quieting down right away.

Neither boy made a peep for the whole time it took for one of the nurses to bring in two birth certificates. "I know your wife said she wanted a boy to be named 'Stanford'," she said, filling out the sex, weight, and length. "But she wasn't expecting twins…"

"The first-born is Stanford," Bill said, glancing at the baby in his left arm. His Sixer was blinking blearily, already too fascinated with the world to rest properly. "Stanford Filbrick Pines." He glanced to his right. "…And his name is Stanley William Pines."

It was already a stark improvement; in the last universe, he hadn't bothered to give Fez a middle name.

"Two Stans, huh?" the nurse said, smiling as she wrote the names down. "That should be interesting in their years to come."

'Lady, you don't know the half of it,' Bill snorted to himself.

He gave the whole 'parenting' thing an honest go this time around. Instead of blatantly favoring Stanford, he gave both of the boys equal attention and encouragement while still keeping up his 'Filbrick' façade. But even so, some things still happened, no matter what universe he happened to be in.

Stanley, though a B-average student in this universe and having a promising assistant boxing coach job lined up after high school, still had his moment of panic at having his beloved twin leaving to the other side of the country, and the machine was broken by HIM this time. Though he left no evidence, he still owned up to it out of guilt.

Stanford, ever the grudge-holder, had his words and worked as fast as he could to repair it before the West Coast Tech people came. Unfortunately, he didn't finish it quickly enough, and that option was gone forever.

Bill SUPPOSED he could twist a few things around to make it happen, but this was something he wanted to see pan out on its own for once. Instead of kicking Stanley out as Stanford went to Backupsmore, he let Stanley stick around until he got his own place, finding this to be an odd turn of events, albeit not unsatisfying.

Even back in that other universe, Bill had enjoyed going to Stanley's casino and getting to better know the conman he'd sired. It was something like that, save less eating gold-turned humans and more sharing drinks over watching boxing matches…and, yes, conning people in the pawn shop.

It was a few years down the line that he sensed a disturbance in the Force, so to speak, and he extended his consciousness to find his demi-demon Stanley in his universe, having chosen to hone in on Stanford with an offer he couldn't refuse.

Oh, the irony.

Ah, well, as long as Fez didn't gamble away the solar system, he'd be fine.

At long last, Bill figured Filbrick was at prime age for retirement, and it left Bill with enough focus to split his consciousness between his fatherly—and now grandfatherly—duties and that familiar little energy source that had summoned him from another universe….

Mabel Pines held back a sigh of boredom as she poked around the used bookstore, keeping a bit of distance between her brother and Great-Uncle Stanford. It wasn't that she DIDN'T LIKE visiting Great-Uncle Ford for the summer, but she honestly had more fun visiting Grunkle Stan in New Jersey.

Great-Uncle Ford was just so insistent on TEACHING, forgetting that this was SUMMER, and she was supposed to be resting her brain! Honestly, if she had to hear about how her music wasn't 'real' music, had to hear about college options, or told how to 'properly' play Dungeons, Dungeons, and More Dungeons, one more time, she was going to scream.

Naturally, her brother was ecstatic about summer or winter holidays with Great-Uncle Ford, where he could nerd out as much as he liked. Mabel was starting to regret not taking her mother's suggestion and maybe doing a summer apart for once.

Thinking of how slightly more bearable it would be if Great-Uncle Ford could let her have her own TV in her room—or at VERY least take off the child block on the one TV in his house—she plopped back on a couch in the back of the store that obviously hadn't been vacuumed for months and sighed. They'd been in this shop for an HOUR, and it didn't look like they'd be finished anytime soon. She laid down on her side, closed her eyes, and hoped they'd be ready to go before sundown.

It seemed like no time at all before she was being shaken awake by Dipper, who was looking a little embarrassed. "…We almost left you behind, Mabel," he confessed. "But we're ready to go home. Great-Uncle Ford said we can pick something up for dinner. Got any ideas?"

Mabel grabbed her bag, heading out with Dipper. "…I don't care," she said, climbing into the backseat without putting up the fuss of calling shotgun. She sort of wanted to just go back to sleep.

Ford made sure the kids were buckled in before glancing in the rearview mirror. "Are you tired, Mabel?" he asked. He was more than a little concerned about Mabel's complete lack of enthusiasm the past couple of days, and worried she might be coming down with something. Mabel just leaned her head on the window with a shrug. "Think you can eat something?"

"I'm okay," Mabel replied. "Just a long day, is all."

Ford tapped his fingers on the steering wheel as he drove out of the parking lot. "Well, we'll pick up some dinner and see how you feel when we get home," he said. "If you're not feeling better after you eat, I'm insisting you go to bed early."

"Okay," Mabel said, hugging her bag to her, staring out the window and missing the worried look her great-uncle and brother shared in the front. Mabel ALWAYS contested their nine-PM bedtime.

Dinner was fine, and Great-Uncle Ford got her a chocolate milkshake, something he normally wouldn't condone because he was concerned about their sugar intake. Still, Mabel headed upstairs right after she ate and shut herself up in her room, sighing as she unpacked her bag of books and sketch pads she had learned to take along during outings to entertain herself, pausing when she saw a black book she DEFINITELY didn't pack that morning.

She picked it up, turning it over and seeing a golden eye on the cover that seemed to stare at her, and beckon her to open it. She opened the cover, seeing a sticker indicating that it was from the bookstore. She didn't recall putting a book in her bag, but it would be just right to have one of those 'unconscious actions' and shoplift a book out of sheer boredom.

Mabel sat down on her bed, flipping through the pages, seeing that it was a hand-written journal, rather than a regular book. There wasn't any reason or order to the book, and it was filled with mostly little sketches and weird lists, like 'Really Fun Things!' ('Pulling teeth out of a deer's mouth'? 'Making time stop forever'? 'Silly straws'—okay, THAT one was fun), 'REAL Conspiracies and Knowledge' ('The moon landing was faked to hide the truth that the moon doesn't exist', 'Chairs have feelings and you cause them pain whenever you sit on one'); and even really odd random notes done in bold (NOSTRADAMUS WAS A HACK!)

It was admittedly amusing, and she loved the weirdness of it. Now, if Great-Uncle Ford's scientific journals were like THIS, they'd be more fun to read!

Mabel made it near the middle, and was greeted with the only orderly-looking thing—circle with a triangle with an eye in the middle, with what looked like arms, legs, and a bow-tie and top hat. Under the circle were word written out in Latin. She knew THAT much from her summers and winters here, at least.

She squinted at the words, mouthing them a few times before speaking them out loud.

"Triangulum, entangulum. Meteforis dominus ventium. Meteforis venetisarium…"

Although she felt a slight creeping up her spine, there was nothing. Figures the one book that would bring some excitement to her summer would be a dud. Nothing says 'fun' like summoning eldritch abominations, right?

Mabel stashed the book under her pillow, yawning as she laid down, feeling unnaturally tired all of a sudden. She crawled under her blankets and closed her eyes, blacking out to sleep in seconds.

It seemed like seconds later that she woke up and was greeted with an eyeful of absolutely beautiful stars and galaxies in every color of the rainbow. "Wow," she breathed, spinning to look around. She giggled when she saw a dazzling rainbow-like shooting star zoom past her in a flash of color and glitter.

"Easily amused, aren't you, Shooting Star?"

Mabel blinked, turning around and seeing a large golden triangle staring at her—yes, staring—with one large eye. It was wearing a top hat and a bow tie, and was leaning on a cane mid-air, and even without a face, it looked amused. "…Um…hi," Mabel said, giving it a little wave.

"Hi," it—he? It sounded like a he—replied, waving back. "You like your little Mindscape?" He looked around. "Well, not quite 'little', so much as 'limitless'…"

"Oh!" Mabel exclaimed, now remembering that this creature looked like that image in the circle of the book. "You're that guy from the book!"

The triangle's eye seemed to grin as he took the top hat off and tilted forward in an image of bowing. "The name's Bill Cipher," he replied, putting the hat back on. "And you're Mabel Pines, the young lady who changed the world. But I'm getting ahead of ourselves. Let's have some fun!"

He snapped his fingers, creating a table covered with crafts material. "Care for some crafting? I've got glitter." His eye shone with amusement when Mabel let out a squeak and began examining around the table. "Have a glass of Mabel Juice." He formed up a pitcher of her signature juice—which he SWORE was more potent than the tequila it took to make his margaritas.

Mabel took a glass of the Juice, sipping it and finding it to her exact specifications. "You KNOW about Mabel Juice?" she asked, beaming. Bill took a spot at the other end of the table, deftly folding an origami pyramid.

"I know lots of things," he replied. "That's because I'm a muse. I pick one creative mind a century to inspire, and lemme tell ya, Shooting Star, you have one of the most colorful, powerful, creative minds I've ever had the pleasure of being in."

"Oh." Mabel seemed to wilt slightly. "…so this is all in my head. Figures."

Bill huffed. Just what kind of boring, fun-sucking lame-o did Sixer become in this universe? He reached over the table and tucked a hand under Mabel's chin, lifting her head. "Listen up, Shooting Star," he said, getting her attention. "Just because it's in your head doesn't mean it's not real. You think up amazing things and put them on paper, or you sculpt them out, right? THAT makes it real."

He leaned back, dumping his glass of Mabel Juice into his eye. "Stick with me, kid, and I'll make your fantasy EVERYONE'S reality." He blinked once, then held out his hand, encasing it in blue fire. "So how's about it, Shooting Star?"

Mabel wiped her eyes, staring at his hand as she chewed her lip thoughtfully. "…On one condition," she said, a mischievous glint in her eye. "You'll be my friend forever. From now until the end of time."

Oh, how THAT sent shivers up his nonexistent spine. But hey, he was already in Glitter Hell, he might as well make himself at home.

"Just let me into your mind, Mabel."

Mabel beamed, shaking his hand. "Just call me 'friend'," she said, her eyes glinting pink as the fire encasing both their hands flickered between blue and pink, making it purple. And sparkly. And it smelled vaguely of margaritas and craft glue.

And with that, Bill Cipher was almost certain he could hear the sound of a universe screaming out in horror.

T͎̻̗̺̎͑H͓̭̤̱E͓̭̻̳̠̦̬͌͐̍ͤ ͙̗̲͍͉͈͢E̩̜͓̦͖̮̊̀͛͆̂ͅN̢͇ͪ̓̂̿̋ͬD̈ (̘̳̙̘͓̹̻̆?̦̖̄̉̇͛̏͊ͅ)͎̣͕ͩͭ͟ͅ