And here is the first part (because I apparently can no longer do things in less than two parts) of Weirdmaggedon accomplishing Bill Vs Familiar AU Bill. In that they switch, for a bit.
Maniacal laughter rings through the Mystery Shack. Loud, bright, and entertained.
So. A pretty typical Wednesday.
Dipper keeps his eyes on his phone as he walks in. He kicks the door shut behind him, and the laughter stops. There’s a sudden silence. Some shattering, as presumably whatever Bill was juggling drops to the floor.
Dipper rolls his eyes, and flips Bill off without looking. The takeout bag dangles from his palm. “Whatever you’re doing? I’m not cleaning it up.”
There’s a pause, and a soft ‘huh’. Dipper ignores his idiot husband, and keeps scrolling through his phone.
Massive thaumatic anomaly. Bigger than usual, even for Gravity Falls. It’s registered on most of the sites. Dipper’s surprised Bill hasn’t commented on it; it’s the kind of thing he would sense.
“Huh.” Bill says again, slow, while adding a low, ominous chuckle.“Well, well, well. If it isn’t a Pine Tree! Long time no see!”
Dipper waves at his husband without looking. He’s only been gone for two hours. “Hey.”
Whatever’s going on, it happened while he was running errands. Must have come out nowhere, too, or Bill would have mentioned something, instead of bickering about what place to order from until Dipper lost the coinflip.
Dipper shoves his phone back into his pocket.
Damn it, if he fell for Bill’s trick coin again, he’s going to have to figure out where that asshole keeps it. Nine times out of ten he can spot the trick, but when he does miss it, it’s a pain in the ass.
“Surprised to see me?” Bill prompts. “I bet you are.”
Dipper glances over with derision, but Bill’s not looking at him. He’s rubbing his hands together, standing near the opened secret door to Ford’s lab. Staring into it, with his single eye bright.
“Congrats, kid. You showed up at the perfect time.” Bill says, low and triumphant. Apparently not needing an answer. He braces a hand against the doorframe, and grins at Dipper. “Which is too late to stop me.”
And he starts laughing, high and bright.
“Okay, cool.” Dipper starts digging through the takeout bag, taking out containers. Bill being ominous means he’s in a good mood. Must be something interesting going on, but- He glances up. “Hey. If you take too long, your noodles will get cold.”
Bill keeps laughing until the words strike home. His jaw shuts with a click. “What are you talking about?”
“Noodles.” Dipper tugs the plastic bag away from the last container, opening it up. Good, they got his order right, too. “Yours, specifically.”
“Why,” Bill says, very slowly. “Are you going on about….” His mouth curls up. Not quite a sneer. “Noodles.”
“Because they’re your favorite?” Weird question. Dipper waves the container at him. Bill tracks it with his eye, back and forth. “Spicy enough to kill a person, and with the shrimp heads still on.”
There was a plan in place. Lunch, and bad TV. Dipper waggles the noodles again, but by now Bill’s looking up at him.
There’s a beat. Bill’s face flickers from confusion to - something else.
Then he snorts, and frowns.
“Whatever.” Bill flicks his hand, rolling his eye. “Figures things would be weird! I’ll deal with that - and you -” Bill points at Dipper, smirking. He turns on his heel, striding down the stairs to Ford’s lab. “Later.”
Dipper lets his hand drop, and sighs.
Whatever magical thing is going on? Must have messed with something, or Bill wouldn't have gotten distracted.
It can't have been too important, though. Bill would let him know if it was something to worry about.
Fuck it. Let Bill be Bill. Whatever he’s up to, it can’t be anything nefarious. Ford’s old equipment is useful sometimes, but Bill’s only got fire in the mortal realm.
If he's setting up another prank, though, this is a weird time to choose it.
Dipper has his own lunch. Alone.
Not at all mildly resentful that Bill’s still somewhere below him, bumping around Ford's lab.
Dipper waited for Bill to emerge. Feeling him roaming around. Slowly at first, then faster, then almost frantic. Bumping around the area below the Mystery Shack, like a bee trapped in tupperware.
Though. Maybe that's not how he's moving? The bond’s weird for some reason. Almost... fuzzy? Staticky? Like a fuzzy blanket, just out of the dryer.
Dipper stares at the TV without really watching. Flipping channels, almost on automatic.
A big, unidentifiable one.
Which, okay, isn't unusual for the Gravity Falls area. Anomalies are basically a daily thing, it's the locus for a lot of weird.
But. Magic that’s throwing interference into his ability to sense Bill. Bill, himself, acting weirder than normal.
Because that’s not ominous at all.
It’s the better part of an hour before Bill finally reemerges from his miniature adventure. His footsteps are heavy on the floor. Bad mood, then. He’s usually lighter on his feet.
Dipper glances up at the doorway - he’s done with lunch, and it doesn’t bother him that Bill wasn’t there for it, really.
Standing in the doorway, Bill looks... haggard.
Hair messed up, eye staring forward. He's braced a hand on the doorframe. Not looking at Dipper, just staring ahead of himself. Dust all over him, too, he must have really been rifling around down there.
“Hey, Bill.” Dipper waves. Not going to ask. He can’t ask, not directly - “Guess you didn’t get what you wanted.”
Dipper isn’t really watching the television, he’s mostly thinking. About Bill. About what could have gone on, to cause this, and what Bill’s onto. What he might want-
There’s a shadow in front of him. Dipper looks up.
Bill’s eye is glowing gold, hands braced on his hips. Sneering, too, lip curled up and teeth bared. The slightly disheveled look makes him look deeply unhinged. Liike a physical representation of his actual insanity.
Dipper shuffles back in the seat, looking Bill, up and down. “You..." The corner of his mouth turns upward. "Look really intimidating like that.”
Bill takes a breath - then stops, and clears his throat. His shoulders square up. “...How intimidating?”
“Could be better.” Dipper waggles a hand, continuing over Bill’s mildly offended look. “If you’d waited until it was night, you could have shut the lights off and done the ‘shadowy backlit figure’ look.”
“Shit, that would be cooler.” Bill frowns, snapping his fingers a couple times. “Maybe-” Then he shakes his head, getting rid of the thought, and glares. “No, wait. You’re trying to distract me.”
Dipper sits upright, perking up despite the bad lunch date. “Is it working?”
Bill’s eye twitches again. Then it narrows. “Nice try.” He curls a finger towards himself. “Get up.”
This time, Dipper smiles. He folds his arms, crossing one leg over the other. “Make me.”
Amusement and annoyance vie for control of Bill’s face. He seems to struggle for a moment.
Eventually, amusement wins out, and Bill shakes head slowly. A;most wonderingly. “Y’know, if your default is being like this.” He waves over Dipper, and snorts. “Hell, I might as well just ask you.”
“Ask me what?” Dipper sits up straight, attentive. He hopes he has the answer, or a hint towards it. Bill rarely asks him for information. Something must really be off.
Bill smirks, just for an instant.
Then he starts pacing back and forth. Apparently thinking about the question. Maybe even wondering how to phrase it. Dipper watches him, curious.
Eventually, he stops, standing in front of Dipper again. Clearing his throat, and smiling, with the infinite smugness Dipper’s grown so used to.
“I’m looking for something. Just a little, y’know. Snowglobe style trinket.” Bill shrugs, nonchalant. He scratches under his chin, head tilting away. “Not filled with snow, though. More of a…” He wiggles his fingers, smiling pleasantly. “Pulsing wound in the skin between realities kinda thing.”
He’s seen the gift shop snowglobes, and more than a few artifices that are globes, made by Ford. He runs through his memory, searching for the answer. One that even Bill doesn’t have - but nothing matches the description of this obviously magical artifact.
“Nope.” Dipper holds up his empty hands, then tucks them into his lap. “Doesn’t ring any bells.”
“You’re sure?” Bill leans in, hands thudding on the arms of his chair. He’s oddly intense, like he’s trying to stare into Dipper’s soul. Still smiling, but in that very, very Bill way. “Nothing at all? No hidden rooms, no mysterious sigils?”
Bill must not like what he sees, because he keeps talking, low and urgent. “Seriously? No big talks from your uncle about ‘never mention this secret to anyone’, or ‘hide this away forever’?” His smile is frozen in place, focused entirely on Dipper. “Really? You got nothing?”
Dipper shakes head again, more seriously.
No, he’s never heard of it, and that description - he’s never seen anything like it either.
Ford’s lab is messy, but Dipper’s rifled through pretty much all of the stuff by now. If Bill didn’t find it either, Dipper’s pretty sure it’s simply not there.
Bill’s eye searches Dipper’s face for something. Some reaction.
Eventually it must be obvious that Dipper’s telling the truth. Because Bill stands back up, and swears. Smacking himself on the face, and drawing it down.
“Sorry.” The sheer disappointment on Bill's face - Dipper stands. He doesn’t pat Bill’s shoulder, though, he's not stupid. “If you need one, then, uh. Maybe we can get it somewhere?”
Bill's mouth twitches at the corner. “Oh no. No, there’s no getting a hold of one of those, kid." He starts cackling, slapping himself on the forehead. "Not a chance! No way, no how!”
“Because,” Bill says, grinning with no humor in it whatsoever. He grabs Dipper by the shoulders, shaking him. “It doesn’t exist."
Dipper braces himself so his head doesn’t rattle - kicks Bill in the shin, once, and squirms out of his grip. “What the hell?”
Bill starts laughing, eye wide. Like there’s a hilarious joke, one that only he gets. One palm on his temple, fingers tangled in his already ruffled hair. “Of course it doesn’t!” He throws an arm out to the side. “After all, why would it? Nothing’s a universal constant!”
On the surface, it looks like Bill's making a weird joke. Dipper knows better.
Dipper rubs at his arm, uncomfortable. When Bill’s having a minor freakout, Dipper gets unnerved himself. It’s weird that Bill’s having one at all, because there’s nothing that would -
“Wait.” Dipper interrupts. Bill jerks upright, glancing over. Almost like he’s surprised Dipper’s still here. “Does this have something to do with the magic surge earlier?”
Bill's expression turns confused. He tilts his head to one side. “No idea what you’re talking about,” He lies.
“Damn it, Bill.” Dipper feels a familiar tiredness sink into him. He rubs his eyes. “What did you do?”
Giant magic thing. Powerful, like Bill is. It’s the reason why lunch plans didn’t work out, it’s the reason why Bill ditched him for stupid ideas, on short notice. Why the bond feels all fuzzy. The reason why Bill was searching for a snowglobe that has absurd magical properties.
Bill has, somehow, screwed up. Again. Magically, and in a big way.
“What?” Bill shrugs, lifting his empty hands. The innocence in his expression is the biggest fib of all. “I haven’t done anything!”
“Okay, fine. You don’t have to tell me everything.” Dipper rolls his eyes. Not that Bill ever does, but Dipper remains undeterred. “I’m just saying, our track record is not great when we don’t talk about stuff.”
Bill scoffs, looking annoyed. “Yeah, well. What would you know?”
He makes a rude gesture, and starts pacing. Muttering something to himself, in that strange language. Dipper picks up about every third word, but he can’t tell what Bill’s rambling about.
Fine. Let him plot. Bothered or not, Bill cools down fairly quickly. Dipper shrugs, and just. Leaves him to it.
He has to go grab something, anyway.
By the time Dipper returns, Bill’s sitting in Stan’s chair. Legs splayed out in front of him, slumped and staring at the ceiling.
Dipper heads over, watches Bill for a moment - not responding - and drops the container of noodles in his lap.
“Augh!” Bill scrambles upright, hands clenched on the arms of chair like Dipper dropped a bomb in his lap instead of lunch. He blinks rapidly. “What?”
Ungrateful jerk. “You’re welcome.” Dipper says, and points at the noodles.
The fire blooms. Steam rises as the food is reheated.
For some reason, Bill keeps his eye on the takeout container like it’s an explosive.
“What.” says Bill, very flatly. He’s settled back into the seat. Now he glances at Dipper, looking confused?
Without a word, Dipper shoves some chopsticks at his idiot’s face - Bill leans back, weirdly enough - and sighs. Picking up the remote, from where it’s lodged next to Bill’s thigh. He turns on the TV again.
Bill stares at it - glanced down at the noodles. He dips a finger into them, swirling it in the sauce, then tucks it into his mouth. His eye goes wide.
“Happy?” Dipper asks. Nudging Bill on the shoulder.
Bill's eye darts over at him - down at lunch- then he hums, and shrugs.
“Could be worse,” Bill admits, after he swallows his first mouthful. His eye narrows, he points at the television. “No, wait. Go back to that last one.”
Irrepressible as always. Bill's ego is huge, and it can recover quicker than most people would like. His ego - and his mood - can take multiple hits, and surge up to keep going.
Dipper obligingly flips back a couple channels. Then a few more, just to irritate Bill. There’s a quick, heated argument about what Bill actually wanted - but Bill shuts up quickly. The argument stops, dead in the water.
Dipper flips back to the channel Bill wanted, and watches Bill’s mood smooth out like the surface of a calm lake.
Bill’s had a bad mood. Bill’s been weird. He's even had a minor fit about not having a magical artifact.
Something's wrong, and it has to do with that huge surge of magic. The one Bill pretends he’s unaware of.
God, what has Bill fucked up now?
It has to be bad, if he’s not telling Dipper about it. If it’s having some effects on their bond. Even if there was something that could break it, Bill doesn't want that anymore. It'd mean they weren't -
Bill glances at Dipper, eyebrow raised. Dipper looks quickly away.
But with Bill being so resistant to talking about stuff, as he always is…
Hell. Even lunch got interrupted. Though it’s halfway back on track.
Dipper scoots himself further up on the arm of Stan’s chair, while Bill lounges, almost horizontal in the seat. Back slumped, and his legs stretched out on the floor. Bill cackles, and makes bad commentary, and shovels deadly noodles into his mouth. Sometimes all at once.
Even though the bond tells him Bill is right there, Dipper’s feeling twitchy. All the things that Bill Cipher could fuck up could land on their heads at any moment, and Bill should have learned better by now.
There was a brief moment of weird, but then. Bill’s always weird. His fuckup will come to a head later.
Over all the time they’ve known each other, Dipper’s learning how to embrace the moment. Somewhat. Their weird, mutual version of normal is comforting, and he wants to try to linger in it.
Before the inevitable disaster strikes.
One that Bill doesn’t want to acknowledge. Dipper doesn’t know what's going on, and it eats at him -
But TV is, for once, a helpful distraction.
“I think this is like…” Dipper tries to remember, rolling his hand at the screen. “The third or fourth time they’ve used the secret twin plot in Ducktective.” He shakes his head. “You’d think they’d do ‘clone’ or ‘magical construct’ like. Once or twice.”
“Mhh!” Bill coughs. He swallows, thumping himself on the chest. “Lack of creativity, probably.” His grin grows on his face. Sharp and white. “Couldn’t even do an ‘alternate dimension interloper’ plotline, huh?”
“I know!” Dipper waves at the screen, where the quacking subtitles describe an even stupider plot. “At least that has like, some magical theory behind it. You can’t have three identical twins.” He folds his arms, leaning back. Knowing he’s being a pedant. “That’d be identical quadruplets.”
Bill makes a ‘pfft’ sound. “Wasn’t sure if I had it right at first.” He glances over at Dipper, shaking his head. Slightly bemused. “But you’re real careless around me. Aren’t ya?”
“Hm?” That’s a non sequitur. Dipper looks over at him. “What?”
“Y’know, this,” Bill gestures at. Everything. There’s a slight frown on his face. “You’re so freakin’ calm about things.” He snorts, stuffing more noodles in his mouth, the next words are slightly garbled. “You’re halfway towards making yourself comfy.”
And if that’s not an invitation, then what is?
Dipper lets himself slip off the arm of the chair, thumping one thigh into Bill’s personal space. The chair isn’t wide enough to let both of them to sit in it, but Dipper makes the best of it. Squishing against him, and letting his arm slide around Bill’s shoulders.
Bill’s eye goes wide. He breathes in - makes a sound like a cat about to hack up a hairball -
Dipper rolls his eyes, and thumps Bill on the back, hard. Then again, as the noodles apparently continue going down the wrong pipe.
Eventually, Bill clears his throat. And lungs, probably, by the way he coughs. “What. Are you doing?” He’s disconcerted. Weirdly, almost alarmed.
Dipper strokes the nape of Bill’s neck. Frowning, as Bill twitches, then coughs again. This is Bill’s fault, for eating too fast. “If you die like this, I’m going to make fun of you.”
“Die.” Bill repeats, very flat. He's gone very tense, smiling sharply “Oh, I’m the one who’s gonna die?”
“If you keep this up? Probably.”
Bill jerks his head away. Staring at the TV, and -
Dipper tries to read his husband’s face. It’s gone oddly blank. He scoots a little closer, cheek on Bill’s shoulder. Bumps his hip against Bill’s. Though the eye keeps twitching, there’s otherwise no response.
“Ugh, fine.” Dipper throws his arms in the air, scrambling up from the shared seat. So much for any mood. “I’ll see you later.”
Bill’s fuckup must have been bad, for him to be this out of sorts. Dipper thought that maybe, somewhat, Bill might have actually learned something from all the time they’ve been together, but no.
He stuffs his hands in his pockets, trudging out of the room.
When he glances back, Bill’s staring at him - eye wide, looking curious. He jerks his attention back to the TV in a split second.
Like he hasn’t already been caught. In what he just did. In everything he does.
Dipper heads up to his room, shutting and locking the door behind him. It’ll only hold Bill off for half a minute, tops, but the warning is all Dipper needs.
Bill’s a demon. One who’s stubborn, smart enough to cover his tracks. Whose exoskeleton is made of metal. Right at his very core, Bill is the opposite of yielding, in his strange true form. There’s no way he’d admit to fucking up, not directly.
Just like he’s not talking about it right now.
That means it's up to Dipper to figure it out. He can, and he will.
All of it, right down to the how, the where, and the why.
Dipper shoves an open space on his desk. Pushing aside his other notes, the half-finished projects. Spreading out some fresh, clean paper, and sending the scattered trinkets, and cryptic notes Bill leaves scattering.
Dipper hesitates. Picking one of those up, and sticking it on the wall in front of him. He tries not to smile.
It’s super dumb. It’s stupid. But if you know how to read between the lines, it’s kind of -
Dipper shoves that thought away. It’s a stupid note, half of it is about groceries. If anything Dipper’s a sap, who reads too much into things.
He keeps it on the wall, and breathes out. No time to think on that now.
There was a magic surge. There’s weirdness with their bond. Bill, not being helpful per usual - while also being way more bothered than usual. The only way things could be more fucked is if Bill admitted the extent of it, when it bothers him this much.
Dipper knows magic theory, he’s studied it for ages. Both from his demon, and his uncle, and between the two of them, there’s a strange amount of synthesis. Different perspectives that have always come in useful, when it comes to cracking a difficult spell.
With all that knowledge. With all his experience. This should be simple.
Dipper cracks his knuckles, and smiles.
He’ll get to the heart of this Bill-problem in no time.
dededos
2087
annaxmalina
yousharknotpass
turnnoffyourmind
pixelskylines
jacobvanloon
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