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that-he-may-return-blog · 8 years ago

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Episode 2: Slugbug

Unfortunately, none of Dipper's questions for the triangle were answered. This was probably due to the fact that Dipper didn't see said triangle for several days, which led his mind to uneasy conclusions- had Bill escaped? Was he back in Gravity Falls and terrorizing everyone? Was he dead? Was Dipper possessed and he just didn't know it-

It also didn't help that Dipper had been having the exact same “dream” every night since the All-Mart incident. He was hesitant to call it an actual dream, sans quotation marks, because nothing really happened- he just found himself in a coniferous forest, alone, for hours on end until he woke up. The entire experience led Dipper to wonder if he was slowly losing his mind. The only proof he had that the All-Mart attack had ever happened was a headline reporting the “Largest Shoplifting Heist of the Century”, listing a number of objects that mysteriously vanished into thin air on September fourteenth.

Of course, nobody knew what had actually happened except Dipper… until now.

“-and that's why everything up and vanished the same day we were there,” he explained. “They literally…” he extended his arm, “walked out.”

Mabel blinked. “So Bill is…”

“I don't know where,” Dipper admitted. “And not knowing is killing me because what if he's murdering people back in Gravity Falls-”

“Oh, he's not,” Mabel said confidently.

“How would you know?”

“I have my ways.” Mabel held up her phone. “Also Candy and Grenda and me made a pact to keep each other updated on the Gravity Falls-Piedmont life 24/7, down to the exact detail, no questions asked. I just typed out your whole Bill monologue and-”

“-don’t send that!” Dipper grabbed the phone, “Mabel, are you crazy?”

“Am I crazy?” Mabel pointed a finger at him. “You're the one that made a deal with a resurrected demon that tried to kill us all.”

“I didn't have a choice-” Dipper said quickly, deleting the message. “Grunkle Ford was counting on me to take care of this because any other option would’ve resulted in an essential perpetual death for at least one person or a literal death for the entire universe!”

“Okay, Mister Let’s-Save-the-Universe over here. Don’t forget that I helped too!”

“Technically neither of u-”

Mabel reached forward and put her finger over his mouth. “Shh...” Dipper scowled. “I understand that you've got that whole conspiracy craving and would probably explode if you couldn’t explain why bigfoot is cthulhu- because I am a caring and loving sister- but… really, Dipper, are you sure this is a good idea?”

Dipper glanced up. “...I don't think there's a better idea,” he said slowly. “But there's nothing I can do about it now- Stan and Ford are probably in the middle of the ocean, and if I went back to Gravity Falls, Bill could probably find his body and start using magic again-”

“Again? I thought you said that in the store he waved his arms wildly and turned a bunch of eggs against you? Using magic?”

Dipper glanced at the wall. “Okay, so, I don't know how it works. Entirely.”

“At all.” Mabel took her phone back.

Dipper rubbed his arm. “Just- I thought I should tell you. Everyone kept too many secrets in Gravity Falls, so the more that's out in the open, the better, at this point.”

Mabel blinked. “Does that mean we should tell Mom and Dad?”

“Uhhh- no. Not… not right now. They'd freak out.”

“This sounds like the premise for an American children’s cartoon!” Mabel grinned, “Mason Pines came home from summer break with a lot of strange souvenirs, but the strangest one is a triangle with a bizarre sense of humor and great fashion sense-”

“That sounds like a show that would try and make Bill likable,” Dipper pointed out. “Too out of character.”

“ATTENTION: THIS IS THE LAST HELICOPTER OUT OF VIETNAM! GET ON BOARD OR REMAIN STRANDED!”

“COMING, DAD!!” Mabel shouted back, grabbing her backpack. Dipper got up and slung his over his shoulder, brushing his hair over his forehead- he wasn't about to take Wendy's hat into a public school, one of the most hazardous places for any material object. Besides, hats were technically against the dress code - not that he had cared in previous years - but hey, at least this was a decent excuse.

The twins headed downstairs to find the house empty save for Waddles, who was napping on the couch, and a note from their mother on the table saying that she would be back in the afternoon; she was probably hanging upside down from a redwood, trying to photograph of a colony of bats. They grabbed their lunchboxes as they darted for the door, Mabel taking a second to slip in a previously-vetoed bottle of Mabeljuice. Outside was the second car, fondly nicknamed The Bug by Mabel, and in the driver's seat was their dad.

Forrest Pines was roughly the height of a flagpole and had nearly the same dimensions, which meant that compressing himself into The Bug involved a lot of doubling over. Dipper would have sworn on his life that his father didn't wear anything but sweater-vests and only combed the back of his hair. Mabel would have sworn on her life that Forrest was an alien from planet Cybernoodle who planned on taking over the earth by hacking RCVs everywhere.

“Who's ready for school?” Forrest called as Mabel hopped over the typical suburban lawn flamingo and into the car; Dipper chose to walk around the flamingo. The flamingo had been Forrest’s idea, and Cassidy had never acknowledged its existence.

“Ready for KNOWLEDGE!” Mabel shouted, slamming the door.

Dipper glanced at her. “Knowledge?”

“Yeah, genius- of the new kids- new kids, new friends, am I right or am I right-”

“You're left,” Forrest pointed out. The Bug pulled onto the road and set a course for Piedmont Public Schools.

Dipper glanced out the window. He couldn't shake the nagging feeling that Bill was too close for comfort- even though he was nowhere to be seen. What that meant, he didn't know, but he didn't like the weight it left on his mind.

After a few minutes of dissonance with Mabel, Forrest, and the radio, The Bug rolled to a stop in front of the school- the twins wasted no time gathering their stuff and getting out of the car.

Forrest leaned out the window. “What, no “first day of high school” trauma? No existential dread or questions about moving up the social rank?”

“We kinda sorta already had that kerfluffle over the summer,” Mabel said. “Ha. Kerfluffle.”

“We’ll be fine, Dad,” Dipper told him.

Forrest frowned. “Hey, you're not wearing a hat today.”

Oh no- he was going to ask about the lucky hat Dipper had had at the beginning of the year- the one that had met its premature demise to a pack of angry gnomes. Dipper braced himself. “Well-”

“Good for you,” Forrest said. Dipper blinked. “We call that character development.” He patted Dipper on the head.

“Aha, right…”

“Well, don't murder anyone! Bye kids!”

“Bye-”

“Bye Dad!”

The Bug sped off into the distance, leaving two eighth graders on a yet-to-be trampled public school lawn.

Dipper didn't necessarily enjoy school. Not that he didn't enjoy learning; gaining knowledge was how he built up his collection of conspiracies. But Dipper could have written an eight-page essay on why the school system did a very poor job of actually teaching anything. He also could have written an essay on the lack of supervision in the classroom or work ethic from the staff, or how being expected to socialize with people he would never see outside of school was counterintuitive- but these weren't the biggest reasons Dipper disliked the school experience. No, that award went to the spiked levels of sheer acrimony that hung around the school like a forced metaphor.

Yeah, okay, maybe the bullied nerd trope was overdone. That didn't change the fact that Dipper was, in fact, a bullied nerd. This year he planned to change that- the honors/regular class split started this year. With any luck, he'd leave the aggressors of the past behind and start a brand new year of education and-

-someone tripped him.

Because that wasn't cliche.

Dipper stumbled to regain his balance and half the pile of books he was holding slid onto the floor. His face was red- he couldn't tell if anyone was laughing, but it definitely felt like it. He crouched and picked up the books; off to a great start.

“Didn't see you all summer, Dipstick!” someone shouted. Dipper closed his eyes. “Did you run away to cry somewhere else-”

Dipper kept walking. That was one time- well, maybe several. He'd been perfectly fine over summer- maybe because he had gotten the chance to make his own impression. But everyone here already knew him as the kid with the dumb name, no friends, and who was prone to crying. His legacy.

The honors/regular split had also led to an unexpected consequence; he no longer shared any classes with Mabel, who preferred talking with friends rather than studying with them. Since Forrest had dropped them off, in fact, he didn't really see her at all. This meant the majority of his day was spent either being ignored and alone or having to listen to “dipstick” get shouted across the room, which by now wasn't insulting so much as annoying. The reality was setting in that, without Mabel around, they wouldn’t be watching each other’s backs. This could end up being the worst school year of his life.

He really should've taken Ford's offer, Dipper thought as he scribbled in the margins of the first-day handouts. At least then he'd be spending his day doing something he actually cared about with someone he actually looked up to- it would've been better than coming back to this mess. And now all he had to show for his poor decision was a missing demon and a sister who caused the apocalypse.

“...what?”

“Pines, is there something you'd like to add?”

Dipper blinked. “No, I'm just-”

“Then I suggest you join the rest of the class in sitting in silence.”

Dipper sank down in his seat. Mabel didn't have anything to do with Weirdmageddon… unless you counted getting locked in a prison bubble. And you know, making a selfish deal trading something that wasn't even hers for her own personal gain.

Dipper focused in on the desk. Okay, where was this coming from- he wasn't supposed to be an idiot, you’d think he could put this together. He pressed a hand to his head. Was he hallucinating? Was he so tired from those repetitive dreams that he was starting to imagine things? Maybe he needed a break- from the planet-

“Bill-”

It was nice to know he could do basic logic. Dipper gripped the edge of his desk. Where was he- why was his train of thought being constantly interrupted like this- as if he would tell him-

“Shut up-!”

“Pines.”

Dipper sank down. “Sorry,” he mumbled.

“Would you like to step outside for a little bit to calm down?”

No. “Yes.”

Dipper slipped into the hall and shut the door behind himself. He pressed his hands to his temples, trying to think. Bill had to be messing around in his head, somehow… Dipper shuddered, imagining Bill puppeting him from the inside. He wasn't actually… well Dipper wouldn't know that. Dipper glared at the wall.

“Get out.”

He wasn't going to. Well, at least that answered that question. Dipper rubbed his head… what would he even be doing in there? Not like Dipper would know. But carrying a demon’s thoughts in his head didn't seem like a fantastic option, especially when he had no idea how to get him out…

“Hey Dipstick. Where’ve you been, huh?”

In any other context, it might have been a friendly greeting. Not in this one.

Florence Goodman had to be the worst misnomer of the century. Dipper had only ever actually seen him in class twice in his life, leading him to assume that he spent his spare time throwing darts at pictures of other students’ faces. Florence also seemed to think his insults were hilarious; this was probably a direct result of beating up anyone who disagreed, although Dipper wasn't sure he'd get the whole cause/effect relationship. Another reason he had never explained it was that Florence just so happened to be twice his size and nowhere near as terrified of detention as Dipper was.

“I said, where’ve you been?”

Dipper looked away.

“What are you doing out in the halls?” This guy really needed to learn to respect personal space. “I would've thought the teacher's pet would be teaching the class by now-”

“Aren't you supposed to be in class,” Dipper muttered, “and not hanging around like a-”

“Like a what, Pines?!” Dipper's head knocked against the lockers- he could feel a bruise forming on the back of his skull. Pain was hilarious.

“Nothing, nothing-” he said quickly, but Florence had already moved on.

“Where's your dumb hat, Pines?”

Dipper didn't respond.

“What, did you lose it? Someone get to it before me? Huh-” His palm slammed into Dipper's forehead; Dipper winced. “You should've kept it on- now everyone can see your dumb hair-”

Dipper braced himself for what was sure to follow. It was an old well but a deep one, and every time it just got to him. He felt the fingers shove his hair up, off his forehead-

“-and your mutant face-”

“It's not a mutation, it's a statistical anomaly…” His face was burning- his entire head was burning.

“Little dipstick over here thinks his big words won't make him a freak-” Into the locker again. “Well guess what-” And again. “You'll never be anything but the weirdo with no friends-”

Dipper covered his face. That wasn't true-

“You gonna cry? Cry, Pines- cry about your stupid hair and your freakazoid face- your disproportionately gigantic head and tiny weak body- the stupid rectangle on your forehead-”

Dipper screwed his face up. Until summer, his birthmark had always been a sore spot for him- it had been the target of countless insults. Now that summer had ended, when he had finally started to accept it, it was just going to become another reason to hate him- his head cracked into the lockers again. Always with that stupid constellation birthmark- making him a target- making him “that weirdo-” well it wasn't like he could help it!

“Are those tears, treeboy-”

Dipper grabbed his fingers- they were rubbery and- slimy-? Florence screamed and dropped him onto the ground; Dipper winced and rubbed his head, slowly looking up. Florence was stumbling around like an idiot, waving his arm and screaming.

“Maybe- maybe that'll make you think twice about making fun of me, huh-” Dipper got up. Whatever was going on, it sure was making Florence panic- the problem was, Dipper had no idea what was going on.

Thankfully he found out, as he watched this high school student transform into a gigantic slug with six eyes, a pig nose, and terrifyingly long slimy arms.

The monster roared.

Dipper shouted and threw a pencil at it. The pencil bounced off his lumpy flesh and rolled down the hall.

The two looked at each other for a moment. The slug blinked and stared at its new slimy features. Dipper decided to use this moment to run for it and booked it through the halls. He heard a vaguely roar-like sound from behind him; he figured that turning Florence into a close relative of a snail didn't make him want to kill Dipper any less.

He ducked behind a wall and pressed his back to it, shaking- had he done that- Dipper stared at his hands. They were just as pale and clammy as ever. Maybe it was the fact that he had just run to the other side of the school, but he felt exhausted; there was a stitch in his side and his eyes were starting to close. Dipper shook himself awake. There wasn't time for that- there was a giant slug loose in the school somewhere. It wouldn’t be long before someone saw it.

“Heyyy, what are you doing in the Dumb People section?” Dipper blinked and looked up. Mabel had put a sticker on his nose. “Don't you have some kind of over-complicated class to get to?”

“-there’s something more important going on right now,” Dipper told her, glancing back around the corner. Florence the giant slug couldn’t be far.

“You found something more important than your GPA?” Mabel leaned around the corner to look at whatever he was looking at. “I'm proud of you- you've realized that the true meaning of being a student is learning and having fun by pursuing an interest that you genuinely like-”

“No, Mabel, I turned Florence Goodman into a nine-foot long invertebrate.”

Mabel frowned and raised a finger. She opened her mouth and the finger turned into a finger gun, “Are you making a spontaneous and nonsensical joke-”

Dipper looked at her. Mabel lowered her finger. “Right, okay, giant spineless bully somewhere in the school.” She frowned again. “How did-”

“I don't know,” Dipper admitted, ducking back behind the wall. “I think it had something to do with Bill-”

“THEY SAY THAT IF YOU SAY THE DEVIL’S NAME HE APPEARS!”

Dipper yelped and fell backwards.

Mabel glanced from him to the empty air directly in front of him. “Is he back?”

“Unfortunately…” Dipper muttered.

“Unfortunately?” Bill pressed his hand to what would have been his chest. “Now that stings- after all I've done for you- turning your school bullies into gastropods- I am hurt-”

“You did that-?!”

“Well I'll admit that it was a team effort- somebody here got really mad for no reason at all-”

Dipper glared. “So you just used me as your funnel-”

Mabel raised a hand, “So I'm sure this is a very important argument but all I can hear is Dipper's side- and also maybe we should focus on taking care of the monster before we argue any more?”

“I don't think Bill cares,” Dipper said.

“Oh contraire, spaceface.” Bill pulled his cane out of nowhere. “You're my only vessel, and your fancy contract says my psyche is linked to your body- if you die, I'd be stuck in a little radius around it, and that wouldn't be fun for anyone, would it?”

Dipper looked away. “Mabel, do you have the flashlight?”

Mabel shook her head. “I didn't really unpack everything yet.”

“Right, okay…” Dipper rubbed his forehead, trying to think. The hall was quiet and empty, and he couldn’t see or hear a thing in the corridors, but he knew what was out there. “Well, at least we have time to plan,” he resolved. “He might be big, but slugs are slow. It'll take a while for it to even find us, let alone catch up to us.”

Bill laughed.

Dipper stiffened. “Unless that's not the case…”

“Oh, it is definitely not the case, pine-tree! Remember how turning things on their head is kind of my deal? My schtick? My gimmick? My-”

“You made a super-fast giant slug.”

“Well I wouldn't call it giant, we’re only talking like eight, nine feet long here- giant would be, say, the size of the school- your tiny little mind doesn't have nearly enough energy for that.”

“Well apparently there’s enough to make you a giant pain in the-”

“DIPPER-”

Dipper looked over just in time to see a super-fast, average-sized slug come ricocheting around the corner.

Dipper thought he knew what fear felt like. He had been ripped out of his own body, more than once by now, been chased by gigantic deformed creatures of unimaginable horror, and witnessed the apocalypse firsthand. Yet, somehow, none of these came close to the sheer adrenaline that running from a nine-foot invertebrate at top speed through an empty school hall could bring.

“How do we stop him?!” Mabel asked as they slid around a corner.

“I don't know,” Dipper said- he was panicking. “I only knew things in Gravity Falls because of Great-Uncle Ford’s journal- I don't have that anymore! We threw it down the bottomless pit!”

“Well, actually-”

Dipper looked at Mabel. “Actually-?”

Mabel waved it off. “I'll tell you when we’re not being terrorized by a giant slug.”

Dipper darted up to a door leading out of the school; he tried to stop but his momentum carried him into the bar and out onto the grass. He tumbled forward and faceplanted. Bill laughed.

Dipper shoved himself up- “If you're so concerned about protecting your vessel why don't you help-”

“Oh, I might. If it gets completely hopeless. Right now I just want to watch you squirm.”

Dipper wanted to retaliate, but he didn't get the chance as the monster slammed its head through the door and bowled him over. He scrambled up, now covered in slime, and darted back inside the school; during the day, the doors were locked from the outside. This proved true as the slug rammed into the door over and over, but it didn't open. It also might not have opened because it was a pull door, but Dipper decided not to tell him that.

Dipper slid down against the wall to catch his breath.

“...what do we do when school ends?” Mabel asked, “because he’s still going to be there-”

“I’m trying to get there,” Dipper breathed. He rubbed his forehead and watched the door thud as the slug rammed into it. Bill was busy criticizing a mural of Egypt in the hall.

Mabel sat down next to him. “Maybe we should get to class?”

Dipper snorted. “I'd rather not. At least not right now.” A nine-foot slug. No journal. No hex circle, no flashlight… all he really had was a demon whose current life goal was to ruin Dipper's own life. Bill probably knew how to fix it with magic or something- but it wasn't like he'd help. Dipper might have to take a different approach…

Dipper sat there in quiet contemplation as Mabel doodled and the formerly-human slug pounded on the doors. After a while, the bell rang and students flooded out into the hallways, and to their… lockers? Dipper started and looked at the clock- what?! -this was the end of the school day- and he still had no idea what to do regarding the giant slug- and it was at this moment that the hinges on the door gave way- and in it came.

It was chaos. Everyone scattered, some to run and scream, others to touch it, more to record videos, and the slug to (presumably) murder Dipper. Dipper saw this and decided to join the portion of the student body that was running. Mabel followed suit.

“You know, for someone who made a life-changing self-discovery about courage and standing up for yourself over the summer, you sure are doing a lot of running away today,” Bill commented.

Dipper glared. “I can't just fight it,” he snapped, “and it's not like I have anything that'd help me-” he shoved the front door open and ran out onto the grass.

“Well that's not very fair- I'm right here!”

“You’re the main cause of the problem-!”

“What is it with you people and your blame-games- you turn a couple people into disfigured monsters and suddenly it's all oh he’s evil and you’re a 'problem’-”

There was a loud popping sound, followed by an unappealing squelch- Dipper turned to see that the slug had managed to figure out the push-door. It literally threw the door open and was continuing his chase, barrelling right for Dipper- panicking, he jumped to the side, hoping the monster couldn't turn as quickly as it could run, or crawl, or slink-

The proper term for the movement of a slug was put low on Dipper’s priorities as he watched it crash through the parking lot and disappear among the cars. There was a sound of alarms and honks.

“Well, this seems like a good time to let law enforcement handle the giant slimy thing,” Mabel suggested. While the idea of Florence Goodman being taken away from the school did seem appealing, it was Dipper’s fault that the guy was a slug in the first place.

“Eh, ehh…?” Mabel was ready to go. Dipper took in a breath, then sighed.

“We should do something.”

“But do we?” she groaned. It was very likely that she hated Florence more than he did. Dipper genuinely considered walking away. It’s not like he was obligated to be the bigger person here, but- it was a little overboard to turn him into a lightspeed slug. There was also the fact that the security cameras in the school probably saw him near Florence when it happened, and the last thing he wanted was another run-in with the government.

Being thirteen was hard.

Just as Dipper was about to make his decision he heard a shrill and childish squeal from the far side of the parking lot. Dipper and Mabel exchanged a glance.

“Dad.”

They both made a dash for the east side of the parking lot and found the slug with its head jammed inside the window of The Bug, and Forrest Pines firmly pressed into the back seat, throwing all available objects in its face. So much for leaving their parents out of weirdness- now Dipper definitely had to do something. Mabel was way ahead of him.

“Back off my dad you slimy buttface-” Mabel shouted as she bolted to the car and began beating the slug with her biology book. This took the slug’s attention off of (potentially) eating Forrest- it pulled from the window and went for Mabel next.

“Mabel, get away from that thing-!” Forrest shouted. Dipper pried the slime-coated car door open; Forrest scrambled out and scooped both twins up and out of the way of the monster, backing away. The slug started advancing- Dipper threw a rock at its head and tried his best to give an intimidating and stern glare, but judging from Bill’s snickering it wasn’t working out too well.

Forrest was just about to make a run for it when Mabel slipped out of his hold and ran for The Bug.

“REMEMBER ME!!” Mabel called as she dove past the slug and jumped in the car. The slug spat acid at her as she ran past; it ate away at the ground, burning holes in the asphalt. Forrest nearly had a heart attack as the monster went after his daughter.

“MABEL-”

“Acid?!” Dipper hissed at Bill, who had been casually drifting near his field of view.

“So, I have these ideas, and sometimes they’re just too good to turn down. So, the slug spits acid now. And also has a taste for human flesh.”

“Oh it just gets better every minute, doesn’t it-”

“It really does, isn’t it great?”

Forrest sat Dipper far away from The Bug and ran to grab Mabel.

“Do you think this is funny?!” Dipper glared at Bill.

“Yes, actually.”

“Well it isn’t-” Dipper pointed at the triangle. “You’ve always seen our lives as a game and a joke, but the joke's over, Bill-” Bill wasn’t looking at him. He was experimenting with flames in his right hand. “Are you listening?!”

“No, not really, your interests are relatively insignificant to me.” Dipper was fuming. He had to get his attention, and the only way you get a triangle’s attention is by making him angry or panicked- or maybe even a little bit of both.

Dipper started walking towards the monster slug. “What are you doing, kid?” Bill called. “D’ya think you’re going to take this thing on with those noodle arms?”

“No.”

“Well that’s good because that thing will totally kill you. So, you know, it wouldn’t be that smart to keep just walking towards it like that. So, uh, why are you still walking towards it-”

“You’re going to let my family get killed, then you don’t get a vessel.”

Bill laughed. “As if you’d actually get yourself killed just to get me to do something, that’s ridiculous-”

Dipper kept walking. “Are you really that stupid-” Bill said louder as he was pulled along at the edge of Dipper’s mental barrier. One foot in front of the other, Dipper walked up to the slug and kicked it.

The slug’s acid was just about to eat through the roof of The Bug- Mabel was aggressively searching the backseat and resisting Forrest’s attempts to remove her. The slug twisted its head to look at him. Dipper held his arms out at his sides. “You’re an idiot, kid- you’re going to get yourself killed- this is proving nothing-”

“It’s proving nothing except that you’re out of options.”

“I have plenty of options other than your cruddy vessel-”

The slug made a gurgling noise; acid foamed at its mouth, dripping down at Dipper’s feet, just missing his shoes.

“You’re gonna die, kid-”

It reared up. Dipper didn’t move.

“KID-”

Dipper squeezed his eyes shut- there was a spitting sound-

...but nothing happened. Hesitantly, Dipper opened an eye. He was outside of his own body, and for a moment he thought he might have actually died; then he saw that his own body had thrown up a magical wall in front of itself, like a triangular forcefield. Dipper couldn’t stop himself from grinning.

“I hate you so much,” Bill muttered through gritted teeth as he dropped the wall and the remaining acid fell to the ground. Operation Anger the Triangle was a success. The slug tilted its head in confusion. Bill leapt forwards and knocked the slug back with a punch that clearly had some extra magical energy, because it slid back several feet and embedded itself in the hood of a car.

“Just turn him back-” Dipper said as Bill climbed into The Bug a little unsteadily. Forrest was staring and petrified in the back at this point.

“It’s- give me a second, okay-” Bill wheezed as he struggled to catch his breath, “your stupid noodle of a body could barely take a bit of running last time- you think it can take all that- no! Because some vessels aren’t pure energy-”

Dipper let Bill continue his rant about how weak he was as he watched the slug pry itself from the car and shoot over to The Bug. Bill looked at the slug and glared.

“I have had it up to here with all the things I make trying to kill me-” He slid into the driver’s seat and tried to stay awake. He was about to use another shield to block more flying acid, but something shot through the windshield and straight into the slug’s face.

“GRAPPLING HOOK!” Mabel retracted the hook from the backseat, proudly standing on the seats, one hand on her hip. Forrest was unable to process anything happening around him. Mabel jumped into the passenger’s seat and shot the hook straight into one of the slug’s eyes; it backed up more, blinded.

Bill was slumped over the steering wheel, about to pass out. Mabel shook him. “Hey- hey you can’t fall asleep- mystery twins are back in action-!!” Bill slowly opened his eyes and looked Mabel dead in the face. The sunlight made the slit-pupils obvious.

“Could you, for once, Shooting Star, maybe not scream in my ear... magic is hard enough as it is...” He was too tired to make any witty comments; all he had to spare was pure dismay. Mabel shot the slug in the face again.

“You’ve been doing a bunch of magic, huh-”

“Yes.”

“And Dipper didn’t get enough sleep again I bet-”

“Clearly.”

“But you can fix this with magic??” “Magic fixes most things.”

“Well- then-” Mabel pulled her lunchbox up and offered Bill a mysterious red fruit drink.

“Is this poison?” Bill looked at Mabel. He threw up a shield to block flying acid and looked a little more exhausted.

“No, it’s Mabeljuice!”

“So, poison.”

“It’ll give you a boost- promise-” Bill glared at her. He put up another shield and swayed slightly; a fleck made its way around the shield and burned through his hair. He sighed, steadying himself- Dipper wished he had popcorn. “Eh? Ehh?” Mabel held the Mabeljuice closer. Bill slowly took the glittery drink.

“This doesn’t have anything on Time Punch-” he downed the drink. Mabel shot the hook into the slug’s face again. The slug seemed confused as to how he continued to fall for these attacks.

Bill felt a burst of energy as the caffeine set in. A grin spread across his face- he might be slowly dying of poison, but he was alive again. The slug moved around the other side of The Bug and crashed its head through the window; Bill held his hand out at the slug and it was pushed back by an invisible force. The Bug shook.

“Now what-” Forrest whimpered from the back.

“Now we knock that thing out and finish this-” Bill said, putting his hand on the dash. The Bug began morphing and mutating and Dipper stared as he turned the family car into a huge, metal, eco-friendly winged insect, with six legs instead of four wheels and an apparent taste for slugs.

“WOO!” Mabel cheered as it advanced on the monster. Bill laughed maniacally as The Bug attacked the slug, knocking it down into the pavement- it spat acid at the car, burning holes into pieces of metal legs- but The Bug kept ramming into the slug, shoving it back. It plucked the slug off the ground before it could run away and flew off towards the football field.

Forrest was screaming. “OKAYOKAYOKAYOKAYWHY- WHY IS THIS HAPPENING- KIDS-”

Mabel looked back at Forrest, giving him an encouraging thumbs-up. “Calm down, Dad- we’re professionals-! We’ve got this!”

Forrest just stared. Dipper wasn’t looking forward to explaining this later. The Bug hauled the slug over the football field and higher into the air; it released the slug and it plummeted into the ground, leaving a crater in the grass.

The Bug hovered for a bit and, when the slug didn’t get up, it lowered and landed next to the crater. Mabel hopped out of the car and ran to the crater to peer in the hole, grappling hook at the ready. The dust cleared and, instead of a bloodthirsty lightspeed acid slug, there was just a beat-up Florence Goodman, looking utterly traumatized. Mabel let out a breath and help up a hand to high-five Bill, grinning. “Nice work-”

Bill looked at her. “You really want me touching your hand.”

Mabel lowered her hand.

The caffeine was wearing off fast; Bill used the last bit of energy he had to strip The Bug of its insectoid features. Then he fell face-first into the grass.

When Dipper came back to consciousness in his own body, everything was numb and he didn’t want to move. Mabel was sitting with him in the high school nurse’s station; she seemed a little more excited once he actually looked at her.

“Wh… what happened…?”

“Well, uh… Bill… fixed it, and you passed out after that-” She seemed a bit surprised, “since when does he help us-”

“I blackmailed him,” Dipper murmured.

“...you blackmailed Bill?” Mabel said, staring. Dipper shrugged, eyes half-closed. “That’s… that’s great. Showed him who’s boss this time, am I right-” she grinned.

Dipper smiled slightly; it felt pretty good to be holding the cards for once. He thought for a moment and frowned. “What happened to Florence…?”

“Uh, about that…” Mabel began, “He looked super freaked out- I don’t think he’s coming back here. But he doesn’t entirely know what happened, I just told some cops that the slug ran off in the woods- so, we should be in the clear. For now.”

“Didn’t they see it on camera…?” Dipper asked. Mabel shifted in her seat slightly.

“Nope.”

“Nope?”

“Nope.”

“What do you mean nope?” Dipper sat up a little.

“Well, I took a little time to say a few things to Dad, calm him down a little bit, and… he used his computer magic to get rid of the footage.”

“Since when was Dad a hacker?” He usually only saw his dad coding games of brick breaker.

“He said he picked up a hobby over the summer,” Mabel said, then grinned, “so we’re in the clear.”

‘The Clear’ was probably something they were far from, but knowing that they had covered up the incident to some extent was a relief. He glanced around and saw a disgruntled Bill glaring at a chart on the wall.

“...thanks for fixing that,” Dipper whispered.

“Shut up, Pinetree, I’m not dumb, you smug little-”

“Oh come on- you saved yourself anyways,” Dipper muttered. “That’s a bright side for you.”

“All my creations keep trying to kill me,” he said, arms folded. Dipper frowned.

“...The Bug didn’t try and kill you,” Dipper suggested, “it must have liked you.”

“It didn’t like me, I just gave it an extensive craving for slugs. It was in self-defense.” Bill vanished, presumably back into Dipper’s mind. Dipper didn’t really have the energy to care about Bill’s personal struggles at the moment. It served him right.

After Dipper took some time and mustered the energy, Mabel helped him walk out to meet Forrest, who was harshly rethinking his comprehension of life. The Bug was out of commission, probably because the engine had been eaten through with slug acid, so he took Dipper and Mabel the rest of the way home by foot. When they got back to the house, the twins explained to their dad about the existence of ‘weirdness’ and how they saw supernatural beings and creatures over summer break.

However, the details were severely watered down. As far as Forrest knew, they just met a mermaid, spotted a unicorn, and caught a fairy only to delicately release it. Mabel said that they learned their monster handling and magic skills from a unicorn fight, which wasn’t entirely a lie, only mostly. It only took Forrest a solid two hours to process the entire situation.

“So… monsters. Mythical… things. Exist,” he repeated numbly.

Dipper and Mabel nodded.

“And you’ve… fought them,” he asked again.

“Uh-huh,” Dipper responded. Forrest slumped back in the couch and rubbed his eyes. After another minute or two he sat up straighter and looked at the two of them. They were sitting quietly in front of him.

“Well… you know, I’d say you did a really awesome job. Really, really impressive stuff there- but, just don’t scare me like that okay-” The twins nodded and promised not to throw themselves into deadly situations again. That promise would probably last less than twenty-four hours. Forrest took a moment to breathe, and wrapped his long arms around the two of them in a tight hug. “I’m just glad you two are safe,” he said. They both hugged back.

He pulled back and pointed at the two of them. “We are not going to tell Mom about this until we can actually think of a way to explain it. Especially the car. Deal?”

Dipper shuddered. “Deal,” said Mabel.

“Great…” Forrest laid down on the couch and closed his eyes, “it’s been a long day, so I’m just going to… keep rethinking everything. You two finish your homework or read or… something.” The twins gave their dad a moment of peace. Dipper quietly helped Mabel with her homework as the sun began to set outside. For the first time all day, there was a bit of silence.

Cassidy Pines shoved the front door open, covered in dirt, twigs in her hair, camera in hand.

“You’re not going to believe what I saw today.”

Dipper somehow doubted that.

#gravity falls #fanfic #fanfiction #narrative #bill cipher #dipper pines #bipper #mabel pines

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that-he-may-return-blog · 8 years ago

Text

Episode 1: Retail Revolution

A lone employee was setting up a display in the superstore known as All-Mart, carefully stacking package after package into an elaborately decorative showcase of Auntie Helen’s Homecooked Uncooked Pasta. Soon, summer vacation would draw to a close in Piedmont, California, and he as well as the rest of the student body would have to go back to school. He would be a senior this year, and how he longed for the joys and freedom that came with eighth grade as he delicately placed the final box of pasta on the precarious tower-

-this was when Dipper Pines’s body plowed through the display, scattering the Homecooked Uncooked Pasta across the aisles, destroying several boxes in the process and shattering any of the employee’s hope of a pay raise.

It may have been Dipper’s body, but Dipper wasn’t piloting it; no, Dipper himself was essentially a ghost at this point, and an apocalyptic demon was controlling his every action. This demon is best known as Bill Cipher.

“Get OUT-” Dipper dove for his body, but Bill ducked and sprinted down the aisle, dragging his fingers down the shelves of chips- which all promptly came to life, jumped off the shelves, and joined the mob of various formerly-inanimate monsters currently chasing him.

Bill scaled a shelf and turned to face the horde. “Hey guys, how’s it going-” Dipper made another move to regain control of his body, but before he could reach it Bill leaped across the aisle and grabbed onto a back-to-school banner hanging above it.

Dipper stared. It was going to break- it was going to break- The banner tore slightly.

Bill stuck his tongue out at Dipper. “What’re you gonna do now, Dipstick- this vessel is mine-”

The banner tore, unable to support the weight of a thirteen-year old, and Bill in Dipper’s body plummeted down to the mob of aggressive toys, potato chips, and birthday cards.

You may be wondering how Dipper Pines had ended up in this specific scenario.

Dipper had spent the summer months in Gravity Falls, Oregon, a bizarre little town that was absolutely swarming with monsters and magic. He and his twin, Mabel, had encountered a series of mysteries and trials; there was that time Dipper had accidentally raised an undead army, or when Mabel had kidnapped a boyband of clones. Their great-uncle Stan had failed to be much of a supervisor until the later weeks, but when he did step up it was obvious that he wasn’t as incompetent as he might have seemed.

Throughout the summer, Dipper had been plagued by the triangular demon Bill Cipher. He only operated within the mindscape, but that hadn’t stopped him from possessing and traumatizing Dipper; and once he had his hands on a dimensional rift, things went from bad to worse. Bill opened a portal between Gravity Falls and the Nightmare Realm, entered the real world, and began wreaking havoc. It was... weird. Hence the name: Weirdmageddon.

Luckily, Dipper had been able to team up with his friends and family to cancel the apocalypse- and all would have been well if Grunkle Stan hadn’t had to sacrifice his memories to destroy Bill. They thought Stan was gone forever, but Mabel had kept a summer memories scrapbook that helped to start restoring his memory. It took time and effort, but eventually he had remembered almost everything. Life calmed down after the apocalypse and the status quo seemed to have returned back to normal.

That was, until the night after Dipper’s thirteenth birthday party.

The night before Dipper and Mabel would leave for Piedmont, Ford snuck up into the twins’ attic room and shook Dipper awake. Dipper, being the brave, apocalypse-hardened teenager he was, woke in a panic and nearly screamed before the six-fingered hand covered his mouth. Before he could ask questions, Dipper was pulled down the stairs; Ford’s face was nearly hidden in shadows, unreadable.

He pressed his finger to his mouth just before the living room. In the silence, Dipper could make out the obnoxiously loud, gravelly snores. Ford turned and tugged Dipper through the room; Dipper glanced over at the chair and saw Stan asleep, hunched over, mouth open, probably needing a shave and definitely needing a shower. Just like old times- so what was with all the secrecy?

Ford led Dipper down to his underground lab, flicking on a desk lamp. Dipper was momentarily blinded by the sudden light and had to squint to make out anything.

“Grunkle Ford? What is this about?”

Ford was pacing, arms folded behind his back. “Dipper,” he began, “we’ve constructed a situation that is only becoming more dire by the minute.”

Wonderfully helpful information, considering Dipper hoped he hadn’t been woken up in the middle of the night over spilled coffee. Truly, this man of many talents should have added “explaining things” to his resume, right next hoarding mysteries and speaking in cryptic messages instead of actually telling anyone anything. “...what is it?”

“I made a risky and debatably stupid decision, pulling that trigger. No action is inconsequential, and now I have to face the repercussions myself- and I would, if that were an option. However, it’s starting to look like that may not be the case.” Dipper had already put together eight crack-theories on Ford’s vague exposition (or lack thereof) when he crouched and put his hands on Dipper’s shoulders.

“Now, Dipper, I understand that you would rather not be my apprentice. That was your decision, and ultimately you chose your sister- and I’m not here to sway that. But something’s come up that gives me no choice but to ask you to do something incredibly crucial to the well-being of Gravity Falls, the planet, and most importantly, our family.”

There it was. Dipper was almost sure it was crack theory number two by now, but the thought of it made his heart sink and his palms clam up even more.

“What I’m about to tell you may be shocking. So I’m asking you to keep your head and retain integrity when I say that-”

“Bill’s alive.”

“...well, yes. That’s… a bit anticlimactic, determining the plot twist before it can be said...” Ford dropped his hand absentmindedly. “Sort of… waters it down, you know? Now if instead you had asked, ‘say what’, giving me a moment for a dramatic pause and heightening the tension-”

“He can’t have- we spent so much time working on this- I thought we planned it all out- didn’t we- didn’t we-”

“-Dipper, I know this is alarming.” Ford was looking him in the eyes. “I felt the same way when I learned this, but it’s important that we retain our senses. I’m not about to suggest we undo all our hard work- we’ve spent too much time getting him back. Unfortunately, part of Bill must have remained in his head, and in bringing Stanley’s memory back we’ve inadvertently revived him.”

Dipper’s entire body was rigid. “He’s not going to- start the apocalypse all over again- can he- is he-” He couldn’t go through that again. It had been taxing enough the first time around; just the thought of reliving that emotional, mental, and physical strain made Dipper nauseous.

“He could do that.”

And now Dipper really felt sick.

“-but,” Ford added, “only if we don’t act quickly.” He straightened up and resumed pacing. “Bill has yet to regain all his energy and strength from the depths of Stan’s mind. This means that he’s too weak to re-enter the mindscape- for now. My calculations suggest that we have less than six hours before it absorbs into him again, assuming the growth isn’t exponential. If it is, we have even less time.”

“So we have a maximum of six hours to make a life-or-death decision where the fate of time and space and the lives of everyone I know and love hangs in the balance?” Dipper asked.

“Precisely.”

“Ohh boy…” Now Dipper was pacing, too. It was too early for this. Too late? “So what is Stan doing about this-”

Ford glanced away. “Since his deal with Bill, Stanley’s been aware of his own mind. This gives him full lucidity whenever he is asleep- according to him, he discovered Bill poking around the place, and managed to subdue him by trapping him under an armchair and hitting him with a newspaper. Before he went back to sleep he informed me that he had made plans to force Bill to listen to a fifties soundtrack until I got rid of him.” Ford turned his head back towards Dipper. “A perilous task for sure.”

“And what should we do?” Dipper asked. “That’s what I wanted to discuss with you.”

On one hand, Dipper could have squealed- Ford trusted and respected him enough to get his thoughts on the fate of the universe. On the other, this was the fate of the universe, and fate-of-the-universe situations tended to be nerve-wracking. “What about- what about the zodiac?”

“That would be the only chance we have to destroy him entirely,” Ford acknowledged. He opened his mouth to continue, but Dipper cut him off.

“-so let’s just get everyone on it and- and kill him right now-! And it’ll be fine- that’s all there is to it, right?” He already had the happy ending- there wasn’t supposed to be a sequel. Bill was dead, and he was going to stay dead, damn it, no matter what the cosmic forces of the world were thinking- no more triangles, no more sock puppets, no more six-armed monstrosities or statues or magical apocalypses-

“We can’t use the zodiac.”

Dipper wheeled around and stared at him. “What.”

“In order for the zodiac to work, Bill needs to be inhabiting his own physical form- from what I’ve gathered, it’s a brand of magic that requires a very clear target to work properly. And even if we could trick him into re-entering it and still have enough time to form the circle, not everyone for it is here. Fiddleford went across the country to discuss his inventions with a branch of the U.S. Government, and even if he came home now, he wouldn’t be back within six hours. Bill would be strong enough to start the apocalypse and will have learned to kill us this time around instead of letting us conquer him.”

“Are you kidding- why now-” Were all the forces of the world stacked against the Pines family? Maybe there really was a cosmic power out there that was messing with his life for the sole purpose of watching the drama. “What else could we possibly-”

Ford diverted his gaze, rubbing the back of his neck. “I had one plan,” he said. “It’s hazardous, and may be even more difficult than I initially thought. Nevertheless, it may be our best option.”

Exactly the kind of encouraging statement Dipper needed to hear. “What was it?”

“I’d need you to make a deal with him.”

It was about this moment that Dipper lost his ability to speak. He would have accepted any number of odd solutions - it was his Great Uncle Ford, after all. But he of all people should have known the dangers of making a deal with a literal demon, the way the cold fire singed your nails, the way reality doubled over on itself and his voice came from all angles, the nauseating, unsettling feeling of those fingers latched onto your palm- Dipper couldn’t believe that this was Ford’s most viable option- unless it wasn’t Ford’s option, unless it wasn’t even Ford-

“Dipper, listen to me, I can explain this.”

“Take off your glasses-”

“Dipper-”

“-I said take off your glasses!”

Silence. Ford complied. His hand dropped and he crouched in front of Dipper again, gently handing him a flashlight, keeping his eyes open while the beam hit him in the face. Dipper became aware after a few moments that with every breath he was shaking. The flashlight beam was shuddering up and down Ford’s face, illuminating his eyes- the sclera still white, if bloodshot, the irises intact, the pupils round. A dull pounding was echoing in Dipper’s ears. He lowered the flashlight and looked away, half expecting Ford to reach out and put a hand on his shoulder, relieved when he didn’t.

Ford put his glasses back on, watching Dipper. Dipper slowly flicked the flashlight off. They sat in silence for a few moments, alone in the near-darkness. Dipper felt the thudding in his chest subside. Quietly, he set the flashlight back on the shelf.

Ford breathed. “...I know that it’s not ideal. You’ve dealt with him enough for a lifetime, and it’s… harsh of me to expect you to make this decision so suddenly, or even at all. Unfortunately, this is the best solution I’ve been able to draw up on such a short notice.”

“...why,” Dipper asked. “Why is this the best chance we have.”

“...we can’t kill Cipher, at least not yet,” Ford said, slowly. “If he remains in Stanley’s mind for too much longer, or even in a close enough proximity for an extended period of time, he’ll regain all of his energy, re-enter the mindscape, find his body and incite a second Weirdmageddon.”

Dipper stared at the floor. “And… me making this deal…”

“Would prevent him from doing this. Believe me, Dipper, I have no intention to jeopardize your safety through this. I’ve drafted a contract that states he can cause no harm to you or anyone else, directly or indirectly, mentally or physically, that keeps him from reentering his body, that allows you to create modifications to it at any time.”

“...what exactly would you want me to do?”

Ford hesitated. “...I suppose that the best way to put it is that I would want you to hold onto him.”

“...hold… onto him.”

“Yes. Keep him away from Stanley and Gravity Falls so that he can’t cause any more harm. You’d come back for the summer, of course… and at that point everyone should be back in time to use the zodiac. Now, this isn’t our only option- I don’t want to force you into anything. You certainly have every right to make the decision you want, and the last thing I’d want to do is coerce you into a situation that-”

“-what are the other options?” This was something Dipper needed to know, although he had a sinking feeling that he already did.

There was a long pause.

“...great-uncle Ford?”

“I think it’s best if you don’t worry about those.”

“...it’s deleting Stan’s memory,” Dipper said, “and not letting it come back.”

Another pause. Ford nodded.

“...can I see that contract?”

He passed it to him without a word.

Dipper slid closer to the dim desk light and read the fine print. It was funny; after a summer of reading Ford’s handwriting, suddenly it looked like a different language. Journal entries had only described mythical beasts catalogued long before Dipper was even born. This… this affected his life directly. Seeing his name written in Ford’s clear, artistic writing sent a strange chill up his spine.

He only found one discrepancy in the contract.

“Here it says Bill will be allowed to enter my body and take over.” Dipper had been a puppet once, and it wasn’t an experience he had particularly enjoyed.

“I knew you would ask about that, but… bear with me,” Ford said. “Bill’s already been killed. He’s already powerless. Once we go in there, he’ll realize that we don’t plan on using the zodiac- he’ll know that by killing him we’ll destroy Stanley’s memory again, and he knows that the longer he waits the more powerful he gets. Without some form of incentive, something he gets out of it, he would never agree to the deal. After all, he has nothing to lose and everything to gain in the form of revenge if we try anything else.”

“If I let Bill control me, then he’s only going to try and kill me and my friends-” Dipper started, but then he stopped as the words on the contract brought themselves back to his mind.

“Ah, you see now, don’t you,” Ford said with more confidence, “The contract specifically says he can’t hurt any living, half-living, quarter-living, or undead being. Along with… everything in-between. For good measure.” Ford pointed at the rules in the contract.

Dipper stared at the words, weighing his options. He could put up with Bill for a school year… or it would be his fault that Stan wouldn’t remember anything for the rest of his life. A wave of guilt washed over Dipper, even as he thought about the soul-sucking process that was deal-making; he didn’t have the right to just let Stan die, not after everything he did for them…

“...regardless, Dipper, it’s all your choice.” Ford was saying as he sank back into a chair. “It would be temporary. By the time you returned next year we could easily vanquish him with the zodiac. However, I understand if you’d rather not. Trust me, I know from personal experience...” he glanced at the exit to the study. Dipper’s head was clearing. He couldn’t let Stan be erased again, that was a given, not after all the work Ford had put in to bring his brother back. Dipper couldn’t bear to be the reason they were torn apart. His thoughts told him to rethink, to plan, that he still had a few more hours before the deadline. But while his brain was on one track his mouth said something different.

“-I’ll do it.”

Ford turned his head and looked much more alert than he did just a moment ago. Dipper hadn’t realized, but the life had been drained out of him; upon hearing the news, it seemed to be flooding back. “You’re sure about this?”

Dipper took a deep breath. His mouth wouldn’t work for a second, and he felt his tongue going dry. “...yes.”

“Excellent, then all we have to do is enter Stanley’s mind and convince Bill to make the deal.”

“Wait, what-” was all Dipper could manage before he was taken out of the study.

Dipper would have loved to say that he marched into Stan’s mind, threw the chair off of Bill, and forced him into signing the contract immediately while theatrical music played in the background and his great-uncles applauded.

In reality, Dipper and Ford stumbled into Stan’s mind to the classic tunes of Jerry Lee Lewis just in time to see Stan hit Bill in the eye with a rolled-up newspaper.

“If you hit me one more time with that cylinder of tree pulp I will personally dismantle your ribcage and use it to play croquet-”

Bill was cut off with another slap to the eye. His voice wasn’t even echoing, or maybe the blaring music was just interfering with Dipper’s ability to hear correctly. Just as Ford had described, Bill was pinned under Stan’s armchair, completely lacking the distorting, glowing aura he normally had. Stan himself was seated in the chair and didn’t look much more hygienic than he currently did in reality, but he at least seemed to be enjoying himself by abusing a triangle who could no longer fight back.

“Stanley,” Dipper heard Ford say, but his voice was drowned out by the music, “STANLEY-”

Stan glanced over and the music stopped abruptly. “And you call me evil,” Bill muttered darkly as Stan pointed an accusatory finger at his brother.

“Why is he here.”

Dipper realized with a start that Stan was talking about him. “I knew you didn’t like me, but geez…”

“I told you not to drag anyone else into this, Ford.” Stan got up from the chair, making it a point to step on Bill. “I told you, whatever had to be done could be done with just you and me, and you didn’t have to make this anyone else’s business- let alone the kids’-”

“-Stanley, I’m not sure you fully understand the severity of the-”

“-I do,” Stan said shortly, “and I know damn well that Dipper doesn’t deserve to be roped into whatever mess you’re planning this time-”

“-I don’t want this any more than you do,” Ford started.

Stan cut him off, “-so why the hell-”

Ford grabbed his arm and pulled him aside, beginning to explain the scenario in a low voice. Dipper glanced around the room. The first time he had seen inside Stan’s head, it had been a massive shack that had fallen into disrepair, placed in the middle of a grayed-out forest; the shack had resembled the Mystery Shack as much as it could while also existing as a dimly lit labyrinth of secrets and memories. Now, however, there was only the living room. There weren’t any winding corridors, and as far as Dipper could tell there was only the one door. The place was fully lit and out the window and all Dipper could see was a white expanse of nothingness. He wondered when the change had taken place, or if it was a result of burning his memories. If it was the latter, then Stan still had far from all his memories- after two weeks of effort, Dipper didn’t want that to be the case.

“...still don’t like it,” Stan was muttering. “I’d almost rather-”

“I wouldn’t.”

“It’s not your choice-”

“-no, but it’s his, and he already made it.”

“You’re not listening to this idiot, are you?” Stan asked Dipper, jerking a thumb at Ford.

Dipper blinked. “Well I-”

“Because he’s trying his best,” Stan continued, “and we’re all going to have to do that to make this work out.”

As bewildered as Dipper was, Ford seemed to be even more so. “Stanley-”

“-and tell your sister,” Stan added. “I’m sick of everyone keeping secrets like this- it only gets us into a bigger mess.” He sat back down, the chair buckling slightly under his weight. If a two dimensional entity could become flattened, Bill did so.

Something touched Dipper’s shoulder and he jumped before he realized that it was just Ford’s hand. “This is something you’re certain about.” It was a little late to ask that when they were already standing in front of the demon himself, but Dipper nodded. He felt Ford press the contract into his hands.

“Hey so while we’re all gathered around for this whimsical family meeting does anyone mind explaining who’s going to die first?” Bill got hit with the newspaper again but didn’t seem deterred. “Because I’ve got a feeling that it’s going to be one of you- what about Starface over there, eh Sixer? He looks fragile-”

“Nobody is going to die,” Ford said, “except for you, if it comes to it.”

“Oh I’m absolutely terrified, I promise.”

Maybe it was Dipper’s imagination, but Bill didn’t exactly look “terrified”. If anything he looked mildly irritated. Probably because he wasn’t out ruining lives like he normally was.

Bill was digging his eye out of its socket. “So what do you want from me? To leave and never return? Run run as fast as I can? Three wishes?” He threw it across the room- Dipper ducked and it stuck to the wall behind him. Dipper whipped around, startled, in time to see a triangular outline solidify around the eye and Bill peel himself off of the wall.

“That can’t be good,” Stan pointed out.

“It just means he’s regaining more energy,” Ford said, quietly. “We still have time before he’s able to cause any real damage.”

“Oh look at this! You figured something out!” Bill circled the group, growing larger by the second. “I’m so proud of you-” An arm that resembled a rod more than anything stretched out and messed up Ford’s hair. “I’m sure you’ll also figure out immortality in no time flat at this rate!” The room was growing darker, dropping them into a void.

Ford glared up; Dipper was currently hiding behind his leg. “We didn’t come here to be taunted,” he said, “and I’m warning you, if you fail to listen, I won’t hesitate to-”

“-to what? Tell me, brainiac, you won’t hesitate to do what?” The entire space seemed to warp and twist until Bill’s eye was bent over all three of them, staring down in a beam of light. “The most you could do right now is kill your brother all over again! I’m only getting stronger by the minute, Fordsie, you know that, he knows that, we all know that- and any trick you try I’ve seen before a million times! I’m the curse of dimensions and the scourge of the multiverse, your tiny thirty years of interdimensional travel couldn’t possibly measure up to what I’m capable of! And all I have to do is intimidate you and stall for the next five hours and then I’ll be back and ready to kill you more than ever before- starting with your precious little nephew over here-” Bill’s finger jutted into Dipper’s neck, lifting his chin- Dipper seized up, this was too much, how could he have ever thought this was a good idea? Bill was immensely powerful and had about as much empathy and compassion as a pit of tar-

-suddenly Bill’s form compressed back down into a miniscule size. The void of space folded back up and gave way to the shack’s living room, just as it had been a few moments before. Bill was currently stuck behind the glass of a family picture hanging from the wall. “What the- hey- heyheyheyhey-”

“My house, my rules,” Stan grumbled. “Nobody gives any dramatic speeches until this is taken care of.”

Awkward silence filled the room for a few moments as Bill pounded against the glass and rocked the picture from side to side. “...that’s… a thing someone can do?” Dipper asked Ford, incredulous.

“...apparently,” Ford responded. He sounded just as surprised as Dipper felt.

In the chair, Stan started to snore. Dipper would never know anybody else who could sleep in a lucid dream.

Bill rocked the picture a few more times before giving up. Instead, he made a point to grow as many extra arms as necessary to give everyone in the photo bunny ears. “So what did you want, IQ,” he asked, cheerful as ever.

“...we had a deal to offer you.”

That got Bill’s attention, but not necessarily in a positive way. “You can explain it, but I don’t think you’re going to get anywhere on this track.” He folded his arms and slid in front of Dipper’s face on the picture. “I’d pretty much rather die at this point. It’s not that bad. Hey, you should try it-”

Dipper felt himself get nudged forward suddenly. He swallowed- “Bill, we- I- have a contract for you.” He raised the paper. Bill did not cower or stare in awe. No dramatic chords played in the background. Stan continued snoring as Jerry Lee Lewis started playing again.

“-it’s going to get you out of Stan’s mind,” he continued, “and Gravity Falls- for- a while. You’re… going to…” he glanced at Ford for confirmation. His tongue felt like lead in his mouth. Ford looked concerned- like maybe he was having second thoughts, or doubts. As if Dipper couldn’t really be trusted to handle this, as if he wasn’t capable of handling it. That was how much faith Ford had had in him; he respected him enough to take care of situations too dangerous for anyone else- this was something that he could do for Ford if he couldn’t be his apprentice. Dipper steadied himself as Wild One began playing in the background. “-you’re going to share my body with me for nine months.”

Bill choked, then burst out laughing. “I’m sure, I’m very sure-” a flattened arm reached out from the photograph and took the contract from him, pulling it up to the frame. Bill’s eye glowed purple like a blacklight, scanning it over. “Because we all trust each other here just so much, don’t we-”

“This isn’t a trick,” Ford said. “This isn’t a game, it isn’t just for fun.”

“So what then, you lost a bet?”

“This is a serious offer.”

Bill stopped talking for once in his trillion years of life. Dipper couldn’t tell if he was thinking over the options of the deal or deciding whether they would look better as mattresses or mounted heads.

A pen materialized in Bill’s free hand. “Well I see no possible consequences of this,” he announced. It slid across the page leaving an unreadable signature in bright blue ink. “Don’t tell me you’re having doubts, Pinetree.” He offered the pen.

“-not at all,” Dipper said, with a lot more confidence than he felt. He took the pen, being very careful not to touch Bill’s fingers, and signed the other spot on the contract as illegibly as he could; the last thing he wanted was for Bill to know his actual name. As soon as he finished, the contract rolled itself up, caught on fire, and vanished into thin air.

“And now that that’s taken care of,” Bill continued, “why don’t we seal the deal once and for all-” His hand was right in front of Dipper’s face. Dipper stared, nearly immobile. He couldn’t touch that thing- that death trap- there was no way he was locking fingers with a demon twice in his life, or ever again. He was going to actually be sick. Uneasy, Dipper forced all his apprehension aside and slowly lifted his hand, taking Bill’s and shaking it. His hand lit itself on fire and Bill laughed- a sharp, piercing, echoing laugh that rattled around the inside of Dipper’s head, sending a disorienting cacophony through his ears, blocking out anything anyone else might have been saying at the time. The room spun and collapsed in on itself, and Dipper couldn’t tell if it was the work of Bill regaining power or only his mind getting nauseous- he was dimly aware of Ford telling him something, whether he was proud or worried Dipper couldn’t quite remember, and Stan holding onto him, and after that his memory blurred together until he woke up the next morning.

Apparently, the one part of the contract that neither Dipper nor Ford had considered was the lack of restrictions on Bill’s ability to perform magic.

There were multiple reasons for this; for one, he wouldn’t be in his own body. All the spells Ford knew required an immense amount of energy, or candles and a circle or something, and there was no way Bill would be able to use that- and in fact, Ford had specifically denied him the opportunity to use hex circles.

Unfortunately, nobody but Bill had realized that he might be able to use his godlike powers while inhabiting Dipper’s body.

This had left Dipper in the uncomfortable scenario in which he was watching his possessed body plummet towards an angry mob of animate supermarket items that, (and this was only Dipper’s best guess) wanted him very, very dead.

Bill crashed into a shelf with all the grace of a senile elephant. The back-to-school banner fluttered down into the horde of formerly-inanimate objects as Bill clung to the shelves of pasta supplies; before Dipper’s eyes, the mob tore the banner to shreds, leaving nothing but vaguely multicolored debris across the aisle.

“You summoned a mob that’s going to get me killed-”

“Oh relax,” Bill said, throwing a jar of marinara at a teddy bear. “They’re just playing-”

The teddy bear that was “just playing” picked up one of the glass shards the jar had made and threw it with uncanny accuracy towards Dipper’s body’s eyes.

Bill ducked out of the way, laughing. “Oops- haha- just a lot of fun and games, aren’t we guys?! Just the tightest-knit group of pals if ever there was one-”

Dipper darted back into his body, forcing Bill out and into the mindscape- immediately, he was hit with a wave of weariness, his eyes starting to droop shut. Shaking, he hooked his fingers around the edge of the shelf and pulled himself up onto it, only to drop back down when another shard of glass made its way to his face. “You need to get rid of them-” he said, quietly, “now-” He felt his fingers slip from pure exhaustion. What had Bill been doing to his body that made him this tired- “You’re such a buzzkill,” Bill rolled his eye. “They’re not gonna cause any harm.”

“That one is literally throwing glass at my eyes-”

Dipper heard the shelf crack underneath him- he stared down at the floor but he was too tired to fully process what was going on until he had already fallen into the pile of murderous stuffed toys and jewelry. “I’m going to die,” he mumbled through a bloody lip as the sentient objects tossed him back and forth. “I’m going to die in an All-Mart because silly me, I thought that magic didn’t work like that-”

The next thing Dipper knew, Bill had overtaken his body again and was personally petting every box of crackers and coat hanger in the vicinity.

“They’re not gonna kill you,” he was saying. “They just despise your tiny, miserable, insignificant, and frankly ugly human form-”

“-thanks-”

“-and honestly I don’t blame them,” Bill continued. For all his claims of the mob intending no harm, they were slowly piling up on him and covering him from all sides, probably trying to find a more effective way to kill him than just throwing marinara shards at his face. “Your body may be hideous, but they know it’s still me. Look, this even says my name on it,” he said, reaching over to a magic eight-ball. Dipper, uncomfortable but still curious, slipped behind him to see. Floating inside was a little white triangle that read:

Cipher.

“They love me too much to kill my only vessel,” Bill said. “See, watch- Would you ever kill me?” He shook the eight-ball, rattling the message around and submerging the little triangle. Dipper and Bill both watched in somewhat awkward silence as the liquid stabilized and the next message floated up to the surface.

Outcome likely.

“...it’s gotta be making a mistake,” Bill explained. “There’s no way they’d ever actually-” He raised the ball closer to himself and stared into the opening, enunciating every word. “Do- you- want- to- kill- me?” He shook the eight-ball again. This time, a different triangle rose to the top of the liquid;

It is certain.

“Well that’s a little rude,” Bill said, as the swarm started to take him down.

Dipper had no choice- he dived back towards his body, slamming into it and knocking Bill back into the mindscape, taking over- and of course he was just as exhausted as he was before. The last thing he wanted written on his tombstone was “died to savage pack of children’s toys”, though, and that gave him the motivation he needed to rip the assorted items off of himself and take off at a sprint down the aisle, skidding around the corner.

The world was blurring around him; his legs were going numb and so was the rest of him. “What did you- even do-” he gasped, ducking into the clothing section and backing into a rack of clearance coats.

“No wonder these are clearance- look at the colors- hideous-” Bill clearly had his priorities in order.

Dipper retreated into the center of the clothes rack, pulling the coats tight so that- hopefully- nobody could see in. Now he just had to stay in his own body until he came up with a way to fix this, and then he could go back home and everything would be fine. As long as he and nobody else died, this would all be fine. Dying was seeming like a less and less likely option, though; Dipper could feel the fatigue catching up to him. He couldn’t focus on anything, he was light-headed- what he really wanted to do was take a nap, just lie down somewhere, anywhere, and sleep, he was so drained… just a few minutes, just to regain a little energy...

“Oh did you want me to fix this-?” Bill asked suddenly, turning to face him.

“No-”

It was too late; Dipper was already being thrown back into the mindscape. On the plus side, he was immediately fully awake. On the downside, Bill was not. He stood up and staggered a bit, gripping onto the rack to steady himself. “Let’s get this over with- I really donwanna die-” He was slurring his words. Clearly, whatever toll Dipper had felt didn’t apply just to him; it applied to everyone who was in his body.

“You’re only going to make it worse at this point-”

“I think I know- what I’m doing- kid-” Dipper watched as his body slowly toppled over and faceplanted onto the tiled All-Mart floor. That was another thing he had learned from his previous experience with Bill- there was a certain point when his body was so broken that it couldn’t host a demon. Bill was forced out of it, back into the mindscape, across from Dipper.

The two looked at each other for a minute. They were both the same distance away from Dipper’s body. They both thought they knew what they were doing. Actually, truth be told, Dipper didn’t have any idea what he was doing; he just trusted himself a whole lot more than he would ever have trusted Bill. Presumably Bill wanted to cause as much havoc as possible before dying.

Whatever the case, they both made a move to enter Dipper’s body at the exact same time. They collided just as they reached it.

Dipper had had fever dreams before, but nothing like this.

A massive coniferous forest stretched across the land, blue covering every inch of sky above it. About three feet in front of Dipper, though, the trees abruptly stopped to give way to a blackened, twisted nebula, devouring the sky and eating its way across the landscape. It almost looked like a hole in the fabric of reality, revealing a cosmic power beyond Dipper's comprehension- or at least it would have, if this hole in reality had managed to stick to a theme. Stars and comets and constellations glimmered from within it, but Dipper noticed some things that didn't quite fit. Pianos, crystal balls, theater chairs, icicles, a bowling ball, pyramids, shattered flowerpots, trumpets, cloaks, a severed unicorn horn, eight-balls, books, tap shoes- the strangest assortment of objects Dipper had ever seen, all of which had no business being in space.

As Dipper watched, the nebula ate away at the forest, sucking up a tree and destroying it- Dipper staggered backwards, his ears ringing. Another tree vanished and he felt a stabbing pain in his head- what was going on-? He forced himself to look up and scan the area, his vision shaky, trying to focus in on any point- there. A small yellow dot, hovering in front of the cloud- yellow. Yellow.

Dipper forced himself to run towards it- walls were appearing out of nowhere, forcing themselves up out of the ground, destroying anything in their path- he scrambled up a tree and shouted with more courage than he ever thought he would- “BILL-”

The next thing he knew he was being knocked out of the tree, falling- slamming into the grass just in time to see another wall erect itself, between the swirling pattern of galaxies and mismatched objects and the windswept pines- pines? Pine trees- he was surrounded by-

Dipper woke up on the cold, tiled floor of All-Mart. Mabel was crouching over him, shaking him, asking him if he was awake- the aisle was empty. Dipper numbly replied that he was fine, but in reality he had a pounding headache and a lot of questions for a certain triangle.

#gravity falls #fanfic #fanfiction #narrative #bill cipher #bipper #dipper pines

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