Chapter Text
“Bill, it’s always a pleasure to speak with you.
May I ask how do you do?”
The first thing that Bill had felt was an overwhelming hot blue-white light. It was all consuming with a feverish greed, ripping every inch of him apart. Burning at the seams, screams in a long dead language could be heard accompanying the superficial supernova. A peaceful, quiet death was not a death suited for Bill Cipher. His death was loud, colorful, and messy. It was a death suited for the life he had lived.
‘Bill please what do you say?
Just answer my question, you’ll be on your way.’
He thought about a lot in those final moments. But it was a specific memory of a place that was no longer that seemed to be at the forefront of everything. The smells of exploding stars, the sound of idioms that would pour from his mothers mouth, the feeling of exam tools that poked and prodded, and many other flat experiences that utilized the senses. They came on fast and strong, almost as if it was really happening again in real time. It was rapid fire, clogging his synapses, a vivid entrancing mind numbing cacophony of thought, sound and feeling. He wondered if this was how the fire had felt to them.
“Bill I don't have all day you see.
Just give me your answer if you so please”
His throat felt sore from the scream that he let out when invoking the axolotl's name. Hoping that the big salamander in the sky would make good on his deal that was established eons ago. It was embarrassing in Bill's opinion, having to rely on someone else to fix a huge mistake that he had made. He was supposed to be un-killable, a being of pure energy with no weaknesses, and now he needed a resurrection like an old 80's trend. However he found it worth it fast as he was face to face with the glowing pink behemoth. It was almost too good to be true. And maybe if Bill wasn't so eager to get back after his unfortunately timed death he would have noticed it was.
“Bill-”
And so Bill had gotten his end of the deal- his own personal get out of death free card. Although it wasn't exactly what he had expected. Which is why he was currently where he was. Stuck in an office chair in front of the frilly guppy that scammed him in the first place. A cosmic pink light emanated from the aforementioned 'frilly guppy' currently sat politely behind the desk in a decently spacious office. Floor to ceiling windows that showcased the hypnotic view of the cosmos that surrounded them. Warm ambient lighting that seemed to know just what corners of the room to touch, and just how delicately to do so. The desk itself architecturally was loose and flowy, like it was ripped straight out of a Miami deco dream house. It was sealed with a translucent finish that shined brightly on the…Bill wanted to go with marble? Actually it might be warble, it was similar in looks but was only found on one planet and was about a million times more durable than its earthly (or more formally dimensions 46'\-ly) counterpart. A clearing of the throat could be heard and so could a deep breath that more resembled a sigh.
‘Bill PLEASE-
Bill finally glanced up at the pink figure and rolled his eye.
“Now what do you think the answer to that question is?” another deep breath that resembled a sigh could be heard from the pink figure across from him
‘Bill I know -
“No seriously. I want to know what you actually think the answer to that question is. Tell me frills. I'm intrigued.” Bill reclined back in the chair he was currently angled in and put both his feet up on the desk. When a moment of silence passed between the two of them, Bill made a ‘well hurry to it then’ gesture with his hand and the axolotl spoke again.
‘You have been unsatisfied with things here, that much I know
You would like nothing more than if I let you go
You have made little progress, in fact closer to none
It scares me to say this, but I think soon my efforts, they may be done
There is not much I can offer to you, there seems to be nothing else I can do
Nothing that I have will make you change your point of view
There are few things left that I can try
And if they prove unsuccessful, then Bill it is goodbye’
The moment of silence had now shifted into something more pronounced - a pause. And it was a pause that filled the air between the two of them as Bill stared at the pink amphibian in front of him attempting to decode the ever stoic face he wore. Yet it was the same as always- tired/gentle/kind eyes and a mouth that was neither a frown nor a smile.
“Yeah sure whatever is that all? Cause I'd like to enjoy some of the- limited might I add- free time I have before I get sucked into interdimensional losers anonymous at six and basic thought revelations 101 at seven." The pause was broken by Bill's snarky reply which earned a third and final sigh before the axolotl made a ‘the doors this way’ gesture and signaled to the staff that was waiting outside the door to come and escort Bill outside of the office.
The staff in question was always subject to change - whether it be shift dependent or Bills behavior dependent. The current staff members consisted of two nurses, one was a newer nurse that had more nose than anything, the giant appendage taking up damn near all the surface area on her face. Bill wasn't entirely sure if she possessed a lack of eyes and mouth or if they were just so small and concealed they weren't directly visible. In fact in most of their conversations Bill had found it hard to pay complete attention to what she was saying, busy spending time searching for said eyes and mouth. Sometimes he could have swore that he would see a blink or two but so far all he could see was a little crinkle that resided right below her nostrils and that was about the closest thing akin to a smile that she had on her face. As a result of her giant nose-face, her voice was rather nasally. It was also high in pitch and tinged with a little rasp. It wasn't the most pleasant sound to the ears but it could always be worse.
And worse, just so happened to be the other staff member, who was an older nurse both in age and experience, considering she had been there since Bill first arrived. She seemed to be some sort of toad derived creature with folds and warts that accumulated to a number that likely rivaled her age. The lipstick she chose to adorn her cracked thin lips with was a bright blue hue and the eyeshadow that settled itself into the wrinkles that were embedded in the thick folds of eyelid matched. Her nose (or lack thereof) was just two slits that were centered on her face below her eyes.The eyes in question harboring a yellow sclera that looked jaundiced and a beady red iris with little slitted pupils. Her voice was low and all raspy with a slightly higher whispery voice that was layered atop it. It was two tones and too unnerving. She had a cantankerous demeanor which didn't exactly strike Bill as the best fit for a nurse but what did he know.
As he made his way back to his room and/or cell (depending on the day really) and trailed behind the two nurses he could hear their conversation. Not that it was really a particularly interesting one anyways, it never was. The nosey one was talking the ear off of the toady one and the toady one would merely grunt or say something catty in response. This had been their ongoing dynamic for a minute now and at first it was a little bit engaging but eventually it just got boring. No, Bill did not care that noseys fiancè works in finance and has been staying later and it's putting a strain on their relationship. And no Bill did not care that when she went on a girls trip to lottocron 9 her friend who's all ears (but a bad listener) got super messy drunk and ‘like totally embarrassed us, it was sloppy’. And from the responses given by toady he could only assume she felt the same.
Eventually they made it to the aforementioned cell-room and parted ways. Once the door finally shut Bill stared at the walls surrounding him. On them were corny motivational posters gifted to him by the axolotl himself. If anything they just made Bill motivated to become the worst possible version of himself. The only other decor on his walls were the results of arts and drafts time at the therapism. Red and blue triangles danced along the paper that waltzed across the walls, straight harsh lines of color that pop out from the page. Bill stared at those a bit longer. He always did.
△
Somewhere along the east coast there was a set of twins. One of them was an ex-con man who has now retired from being on the run, only to run a tourist trap in the summer. And the other one was returning from spending 30 years wandering the multiverse after falling into a portal he built, following a tumultuous relationship between him and his now ex - muse.
The ex con man was currently outside of a cute little establishment that took up residence on the coast of New Jersey. He stood with his back up against the wall finishing up a cigarette and looking around at the surrounding architecture. Old business seemed to have either been torn down rather they had been replaced by something new. Including his mothers old phone psychic business. This little restaurant had always been diagonal from their old place and it was the only one left standing. Their old place being torn down and turned into another corporate chain drone. It was bittersweet, the evidence of change. Lord knows Stanley has more than enough of his fair share. The scars he wore proudly on his hands from working on the portal to bring his brother back, to the others he kept hidden from the hands of others. He wasn't the same boy he was when he had gotten kicked out all those years ago. And he sure as shit wasn't the same man who ran around the streets of New Mexico with a dirty nose and dirty hands. He had wisdom and wrinkles now. He had his brother again. And most importantly, he had his great-niece and nephew in his life. Stanley had never had a season that held any particular weight to him, however now he had an answer if anyone asked him for his favorite. Not that he’d ever really admit it, but he was in quite a dark place in the summer of ‘13. Spending each day doing the same thing: milking as much money as he could from tourists who happened to stumble in, avoiding the places of the shack that seemed to whisper Fords name, and spending each night hunched over that goddamn portal trying hard to use every ounce of brain power that he could to decode what was written in ⅓ of the journals that he needed to put the damn thing together again.
Then came Mabel and Dipper, a force to be reckoned with. He knew that they were iffy on staying, he had heard them that night after all. But by some miracle they managed to stay and also managed to bring a lost joy to his life. Whether it was the delightful textile creations that Mabel frequently produced ranging from custom sweaters to full scale wax statues or Dipper and his thirst for mystery, finding adventure and conspiracy in the mundane. And over the years each summer he watched them grow up and made plenty of memories to go with it. The shack and his memory littered with evidence of their existence. And Stanley wouldn't trade it to save the world (not counting that one time he did in fact actually trade his mind and memories of them to save the world).
The multiversal vagrant on the other hand was currently inside of the cafe enjoying a quaint little meal and journaling the previous week's findings. They hadn't run into anything too crazy, no krakens or anything like that but they still found a couple of intriguing things. One of them being a member of the Exocoetidae family that actually flew. Equipped with wings that looked like they could belong to an aquatic dove, the specimen was able to achieve heights greater than its average cousin Truly a fascinating find, and deep down Ford kind of wished he could keep it as a pet. There was no way to ethically or realistically do this, so a detailed blurb surmising the essentials about the specimen and a very realistic sketch would have to suffice.
He had been sailing the sea with his brother for around 4 years now, of course taking breaks during the summer in order to spend time with his brother and their great niece and nephews. It was a quiet life compared to the one he lived while being in the portal. And he found himself enjoying it more than he thought.
There was a part of him that missed it though. Which amused Ford as much it saddened him. When he had first fallen through the portal he could remember spending countless nights with an ache in his chest from how much he missed home. Both in the sense of his shack and in the sense of earth and dimension 46'\ itself. And he wasn't sure when but slowly it had started to hurt less until it had barely hurt at all. In fact he had gotten quite accustomed to life there. Finding places to become a regular at and knowing other people and in turn being known. He had not only managed to survive (although don't get him wrong, he did plenty of that) he was actually able to build a life for himself there. And the wonderful magnificent cherry on top being that he was also insanely close to pulling the trigger on Bill Cipher and ending it all once and for all.
And then Stanley opened up the portal, and Stanford had an out. And he took it. And with that he found himself back in his home dimension- back in his home. A day he never thought would come. And after the initial heated reunion followed up by weirdmegeddon Ford had finally settled back into his house.
At first he felt like an outsider to nearly everyone he talked to and it bothered him slightly. However he told himself it was only natural, that he was his brother's secret twin that had just come back from an interdimensional portal after 30 years, there was bound to be some awkwardness. And besides, him and his brother were about to go sailing and he wasn’t going to be regularly speaking with these townspeople anyways, at least not until next summer. So what did it matter if maybe he felt a little alien. It wouldn’t be the first time.
And it wouldn't be the last time either. The first summer after they returned back from sailing and were once again accompanied by Mabel and Dipper, Ford had found that the feeling had never really truly subsided. Sure he had bonded with his newfound family more but there was more than one occasion where Stanford would joke about something in casual conversation that someone who's had the awful hotel breakfast at lottocron 9 would understand, but no one in this dimension had, and no one in this dimension would. And then Ford would go on to explain the joke and the context behind it and the whole joke would be ruined anyways and it was always awkward. It was ok however, he was back home with family and able to sail the seven seas with his brother. What more could he even want, what else was there to want?
It was during that first summer back that Ford had once again picked up two old bad habits. The first one was smoking. It started when he couldn't sleep on their first night back - him and Stanley. He made his way out of the shack and went on a walk in order to try and clear his head. He had discovered three decades prior that walking about the town at night was actually somewhat extremely peaceful. There was a firefly like species that was extremely similar to the average firefly minus the fact that these fireflies glew multiple different colors. They tended to be a more reclusive species. And as a reclusive species they tended only to come out at night when no one was around. Ford liked to think of himself as lucky, even downright special for being able to see them and all their glowing glory. Make that picking up three old bad habits.
And while Stanford had been wandering he found himself in front of the old abandoned Dusk to Dawn. He remembered visiting the place when he was conducting his research here. The owners seemed like alright people, although personally they seemed too cheery for Ford's peace of mind, like something was just simmering underneath waiting for a chance to claw its way out. However they were long gone and all that was left was the carcass of a building.
Prying his way in through the doors he stepped foot into the store, it was in shambles of course. Both from natural decay and wither and from various trespassers. Graffiti lined the walls now, ranging from harmless juvenile nonsense such as initials or names to vulgar juvenile nonsense such as phallic depictions. Scoffing at the mess, Stanford made his way around the store- both curious to see what it housed and to see if there was anything that was still safe to eat taking up residence on the shelves. Surprisingly there was more than he thought, managing to grab around 3 or so bags of pre-ground coffee.
It was then that he spotted it. The peeling plaster wall behind the register. It piqued Fords interest, it seemed like there might actually be something tucked away in there. And something tucked away in there there was. After peeling back the plaster with proved to be a tougher workout than he had initially thought it was going to be, there tucked away behind the counter at the register were packs upon packs of cigarettes. The smaller numbers that lay below them indicative of just how long they've sat here (seriously when was the last time a pack of cigarettes was only $6.18?). And against his better judgement Stanford grabbed not only one but two packs and after taking one out and holding it in his mouth, he shoved the packs hastily into his trench coat pocket. He recovered the hidden cigarette trove (it wouldn't last two weeks with teenagers, probably why it was covered in the first place). He stepped back and admired his handiwork. It wasn't perfect but it got the job done, which was exactly the philosophy Ford had employed when surviving out in the multiverse. And if it worked then it would work now.
Lighting the cigarette that currently took up residence on his lips he gave the old convenience store a once over before finally departing. He made a mental note to come back here and investigate further. There was a certain tranquility and a certain joy that came from rummaging around. It almost reminded Ford of those early days in the portal, when he had first found himself in worlds that only exceeded his wildest imagination, which was wild enough to begin with. When he would scavenge for supplies, forming brief but deep alliances with other beings, and bracing himself for a battle to break out at any moment. It was funny, really, that Ford found himself so nostalgic for those moments. A warm stinging feeling in both chest and eyes plaguing his sense as he finally stepped out with the lit the stick in his mouth.
The second old bad habit that Ford had picked up was finding himself going to Bill for his troubles. Not that he could actually go to Bill, considering he was blasted out of his brother's mind and all. But Ford had found himself at the triangular gravesite more than he cared to admit, having mental conversations with him. Finding himself spilling his guts once again, waiting for an answer that would never come. Ford had never really considered himself a religious man, after all he was a scientist, however in that moment he had realized that that was the closest he had ever been.
It was through these meetings that Ford had made a crucial mistake. The dust had settled and after roughly 30 years of turbulence, Stanford had actually found the time to reflect. It had started on the boat with his brother Stanely. There had been plenty of nights where Ford either couldn't sleep or simply did not wish to, so he'd find himself sitting out on their boat, gazing up at the stars. While gazing at the stars Ford found his mind wandering, more specifically wandering to Bill. The stars always did remind Stanford of him after all. At first Ford could dismiss the thought, banish the image with the simple power of spite. But as the nighttime star gazing had become a routine, it had shifted - evolved.
It was a sour feeling, one Ford was not the most fond of. His mind would drift to the more pleasant memories, the ones Ford had buried a long time ago. Chess matches accompanied by laughter and tea, the times where Bill would just listen to Ford talk about his discoveries - either feigning interest or genuinely having some, and Stanford could swear that on some nights he could hear the distant distorted tunes of Sinatra. It was with the resurgence of these memories that came the resurgence of something else. Feelings Ford thought had died 30 years ago. He fought it hard at first, practically mentally thrashing against the unwanted emotions.
Then eventually, on one particularly tired sleepless night, things once again evolved. Him and Stanley had just nearly escaped by the skin on their teeth from what could only be described as a lovecraftian horror made by a very enthusiastic marine biology student. He was tired, damn near dead tired. His brother and him had recently finished special cuban cigars because “face it pointdexter we're lucky to have made it out alive there, these guys are celebratin” and Ford really couldn't argue with that logic, even requesting one for himself. It wasn't all that great, but it had made his brother happy and that had at least made it good. Shortly after they had finished Stanley had made his way to bed, grumbling a goodnight. And with that Ford had told him that he was going to meet him there soon, that he was just going to stay up for a little while longer to finish cataloging their findings for the day. This earned him a ‘nerd’ from his brother as he departed from the main dock.
Ford did not join his brother soon. In fact Ford had broken into their emergency liquor stash. Sitting down and looking at the stars for what felt like the thousandth time Ford allowed himself to do something he never had before.
He allowed himself to miss Bill, even just a little.
Things were bad between them, not just bad but downright vile. Bill had been his muse, his everything. Things were so good once, and that was really what made it worse. Ford would never forget what had gone down between them. Between Bill's self proclaimed ‘puppet hour’ and the shenanigans that went down once Ford had actually fallen through the portal. The emotional and physical scars that he had left Ford with being something that Ford had accepted he would wear forever.
But there was a small part of him. A small sick part of him that missed the good. He missed the stupid corny jokes that the triangle would make, the praise that he lathered him in. He figured that Bill was long and dead now. It had been a year since weirdmageddon. So he figured there was no harm in letting himself feel something small like this. Just as long as no one ever found out.
It wasn't like Bill was ever coming back, so what did it matter how Ford felt about the situation. It was airtight logic - Ford's favorite kind.
△
This entire schtick was a scam. And if it wasn't happening to him right now not only would it be hilarious but he would actually have to admire the big salamander for having even bigger balls to pull off something like this. When Bill had invoked the axolotl's name in what he assumed to be an interdimensional get out of jail free card. A small little favor that could allow him to cheat death if he found himself in need to do so. And instead he found himself in a glorified multiversal looney bin with an ensemble cast of freaks and weirdos with mother issues and anxious attachment styles.
At first it was maybe a little funny. Not really in the sense that Bill was amused and having a good time, but rather in the sense that it was absolutely so ridiculous what choice did he have but to laugh? Like when talking to that gopher man that took up residence at sixers old shack, moronic hilarity. Not even to mention listening to the sob stories of these so-called big rough and tough guys of the universe. After the first concept-of-a-month Bill's throat was practically sore from all the scoffing he was doing.
Puppet hour was underwhelming to say the least. At least comapared to the puppet hour that he used to have with Sixer, now that was quite a show. And sure, maybe Bill might have gone overboard a couple of times and maybe those times were rough on the noggin to think about but at the very least it was entertaining. This puppet hour was a lawsuit from sesame street waiting to happen with stories that only focused on good morals and talking about your feelings. Even a couple of the sad sacks that he was locked up with shed a tear or two by the end of the never-ending hour.
Recently something had begun to shift. He wasn't quite sure when, as not only was time in the theraprism basically the worlds worst joke, but it was a slow evergrowing festering that Bill never really could pinpoint an origin of.
But lately it had felt it begin to not just fester but to gnaw. And if Bill was being honest it was getting on his nerves. He was no stranger to the cat and mouse game that was psychology - he was the self proclaimed master of the mind himself. He knew the brain like the back of his hands. Sure there was the physical structure, the disgusting flesh of it all. The floating wrinkly meat krispie treat in cerebral soup. But the mental conceptual guts of it all was where he really shined. The great follies and fallacies of man, behavioral patterns of the inter-dimensional multiversal variety, and overall common sense. Sigmund Freud (THAT HACK!!) had absolutely nothing on Cipher certified dream analysis. All that to say that Bill was no stranger to giving himself the old armchair treatment and ‘neatly’ taking care of any issues that happened to arise. And it had worked, for millions and billions of years it worked. But lately it seemed to be a stronger feeling. As if it was feeding off the energy of the theraprism itself. Thoughts acting like mold, slowly spreading deep and wide.
The day that Bill could most approximately assign as the start of this shift had been such an unremarkable day. It was mainly talk therapy and arts and crafts and talk therapy and bad cafeteria slop. And it was in one of those talk therapy circles where it started. One of the healing orbs had said something about family or another and that of course led to a breakdown from an inmate named Sal Gillbs who was a pink aquatic fish-like creature. He had a completely bald shiny head with big black eyes, a humanoid body complete with webbed hands and feet. He had come from a planet filled with a bunch of others very similar if not identical to him. They were called the ‘Oncorhynchi’ and last Bill checked they were going through a rather rough dark age. Sal got out between heaving sobs that he was sorry, and that it was all his fault. How he had never meant to hurt them and it was just during a fit of anger. And if he could do anything he would just go back in time and undo what he had done. Sal's rambling ended off with him trailing a bunch of ‘it's all my faults’ and ‘im sorrys’.By all accounts it should have been pathetic and hilarious but instead Bill just felt…exposed. It wasn't him breaking down in front of everyone about murdering his entire family, boiling their entrails, and donning your fathers skin like some sort of twisted bearskin cape and what not (seriously Sal Gillbs had some issues) but it certainly felt like it in that moment. It was utter bogus to Bill that this no-name (Sal Gillbs) random fishy bunkmate at the looney bin had somehow managed to string together sentences that made his stomach drop. Then later that day while waiting in line for only god knows what was being served to them he was sandwiched between that overgrown LSD included nightmare of a golden retriever in front of him and saturn (not the planet, no this was the one who ate his son behind him). And while waiting in line with saturn (yes the one who ate his son) breathing down his neck he felt something strange. Rather than feeling the urge to tell the giant to scram and get out of line because “your family isn't on the menu anyways” he thought about how hilarious Ford would find the idea of Saturn (yes the one who ate his son we established this) in therapy. He’d have some witty comeback of the sort- some quippy little one liner that showcased his more catty side. He thought about how his laugh sounded in tandem with his smile and the lines that adorned it. And he thought about it all the way until he sat down and began to play with his food.
It was after that series of events that everything had just started to feel a little different. The air felt heavier both around him and in his lungs, and he could not stop remembering. And out of the trillions upon trillions of memories that Bill had stashed in the ol’ hippocampus-sponsored rolodex it seemingly only seemed to be the memories that Bill very much did not want to think about. They were the ones that shoved and pushed their way to the front of the metaphorical barricade. And everything that should have been funny just wasn’t. And this had been going on for the-concept-of-10 and ½- months. To put it simply: it sucked.
And Bill wasn't going to say anything. Hell he knew both that big wig salamander in the office, his snide glowing healing orbs, and the other myriad of interesting beings that seemed to staff this place would have shit eating grins wide enough they could put the Cheshire cat out of business. Not only that, but the stupid healing orbs would probably have some stupid generic comments that they'd make. Talking about how proud they are that he had come and said anything to them in the first place and that 'admitting you have a problem is the first step.' before loading him up on some CBT nonsense. So he had kept it to himself and kept up the facade, easy enough.
△
Somewhere along the west coast there was another set of twins. One of them was a future biology major, deans list student, who hosts a ghost hunting series on the side. The other was an arts and crafts savant, avant garden enthusiast, who was taking a gap year to focus on clothing design. They were both currently lounging around in a living room with a rather adorable pet pig somewhere in Piedmont, California watching Saturday morning cartoons on Boomerang.
The ghost hunter Dipper was shoveling handfuls of salt and vinegar potato chips into his mouth with his eyes glued to the television in front of him. Which was currently playing a chase sequence between a cat and mouse. There was a smorgasbord of junk food that was scattered on the couch and the table. Dipper's favorite were the chocolate cupcakes with that cheap white filling inside. But he had just finished scarfing down three of them and figured he needed a little salty break - hence the salt and vinegar chips. It was a mastered sweet/salty balance that Dipper had perfected after his first summer in Gravity Falls. He could still remember purchasing the combination from a convenience store right before he boarded the bus home. Indulging himself in the newfound creation at around the halfway point of the bus trip. Now he found himself eating it whenever he missed Gravity Falls, which was safe to say that Dipper ate this often.
He had just graduated high school, and was now currently spending this week lounging around and packing/preparing to stay at his Grunkles place for the summer. It was something he looked forward to more and more every summer. Not just because it was one of the only places where Dipper felt like he truly belonged - weirdness and all, but because it wasn't here in Piedmont with his parents.
It was no secret, the two of them hated each other. And it was a tolerable hate while the twins were young. But right as they reached their teen years tensions got higher, and harder to ignore. This became the reason for the first trip to Gravity Falls in the first place. And both Dipper and his sister could feel it. The active relief of no longer having that inevitable divorce hanging over their heads. It was the happiest they had been in a while.
Then came time to go home, and with this came the return of that weight. And what should have been an inevitable divorce was in fact not a divorce but rather a marriage of hatred and convenience. Claiming it was for the children when in fact it was for avoiding all the legalities and loss of income or insurance that would come with the divorce process. Lawyers weren't cheap and the two of them were at each others throats so often that making it easy wasn't in the cards.
So the next couple of years were the twins biding their time until summer rolled around for when they finally got their break and got to enjoy themselves. It was about all they could do besides late night conversations with one another just to ensure the other was heard.
That was until senior year and Dipper had reached out to a professor out in Oregon. They had established a professional relationship and Dipper was close to getting a full ride to that university if he just could throw together an extremely impressive self done research project within the field of irregular behavior patterns of the Anura family. And if he could get that scholarship that meant that he could get out of here with his sister for good.
He was hoping they could stay with their Grunkles. He hadn't asked them yet and honestly he didn’t really even have the first clue how to. So he figured he should just work on getting the scholarship and cross the staying-at-the-shack bridge when he gets to it. Besides, Dipper rationed that if all else fails maybe him and Mabel could pull the ol' 'dress up as one another and pretend you're only one person so that you can share one thing trope' for his dorm room until they found a better place. But then again, Dipper was almost positive that if his sister gave big enough puppy dog eyes to either one of their Grunkles she could get damn near anything she wanted.
Speaking of his sister, Mabel, was currently sitting on the floor in front of the table munching on a bag of gummy worms without a care in the world. Having just got her braces off 2 years ago, gummy deliciousness was practically a dietary staple to her. Of course these were some organic, non-GMO, vegan, Californian-bullshit gummy worms due to the very sudden shift to veganism that came after officially adopting waddles. Her parents naturally weren't the most enthralled about it but conceded as long as they did not have to cook it or eat it. Dipper would support it to Mabel's face and in front of their parents but he couldn't lie there was the occasional time he would sneak off to grab some pizza or chicken nuggets.
Mabel was currently taking a gap year after graduating high school. Getting a portfolio together as a fashion designer and holding off on finding anywhere permanent to cement herself before everything was worked out with moving. Once her and Dipper had finally gotten settled down somewhere whether it be their Grunkles place or not then Mabel would sink her claws in somewhere. Ideally there actually.
For the person who not only inspired most of her creations, but was also the person who was modeling most of them lived in Gravity Falls. This person was none other than Pacifica Northwest. The two of them had gotten closer every summer following the events of the Ghost Incident and Weirdmageddon. They had exchanged phone numbers and kept int contact and as the time had passed a they had both found themselves harboring rather strong feelings for one another. And with Pacificas parents just finding their footing back in land of the wealthy they were on higher alert than ever before. Their PR person practically running overtime as deals and business transactions that were questionable at best and downright fraudulent and shady at worst. They had their eye very close on Pacifica, and had practically planned out each public move of hers. So with that they had decided to keep whatever it was that they had a secret. Not putting a name to it. Not telling a soul.
And at first Mabel thought she as going to at least tell Dipper. They were twins after all, and even if something was supposed to never be repeated to anyone Dipper didn't really count. But then she had thought about it. And soon she found that she couldn't bring herself to tell her brother about it. Not that she was ashamed about who she was or anything like that. It was his reaction that she was worried about. The way he would look at her after. Although things had gotten better between the Pines and the Northwests since the whole ghost in the mansion fiasco and Weirdmaggon, DIpper still held his distaste for her. He was nice and civil when she would come over but it was obvious the two didn't spend any time together. Dipper makes it a point to leave the room within five minutes of Pacifica entering.
She didn't think that she would be able to handle it. If he took it poorly, the judgement that would come from it. The “her?” And things with Pacifica weren't exactly super official. So rather than say anything and looking like a fool and becoming the number one receiver of a million 'i told you so's from dipper, she decided to just keep quiet. Which was one of the first times she had ever hid anything from her twin and it was eating her alive. But things change over the years. And that was a lesson she had learned quite well.
“Do you think we could leave early? Since this is our last break before college and all. Well, it's your last break.” Mabel spoke up from the floor and Dipper tore his eyes away from the screen to glance at her from the couch.
“...I guess I don't really see why not. You’ve packed everything? I'm not gonna hear about forgetting this that and the other thing on the bus ride there?” Dipper asked while switching back to the beloved chocolate cupcakes. Mabel gave a snort and whacked his knee.
“That was one time and I've been packed since before school ended. I was born ready.” Dipper gave this a thinking noise and a chin rub to accompany it before shrugging.
“Yeah, yeah we should, we can even explore more of the town and stuff before we check in at the shack. I've been meaning to really take a look at their library. I bet they have some really interesting books about the local fauna. I wonder if they managed to score any rare books? Considering that they're a small town library I don't think so but hey you never kn-” Dipper seemed to break off a bit into a tangent there which of course earned a very mature eye roll and raspberry from his sister.
“Nerd alert. I'll go look for the next earliest bus ticket.” Mabel pulled out her phone and set her thumbs to work to scour for bus tickets.
“And I'll write a note and place it on the fridge. That should be enough notice right?” Mabel shrugged and made an ''i dunno' noise mid-search and continued her task. Dipper stood up and gave his body a solid stretch before making his way into the kitchen. Eyes scanning the countertops looking for something he could write on and something that he could write with.
Writing out quickly “Going to Grunkles early. - D + M” He placed the note on the fridge with a. magnet. It was a corny magnet that he had gotten from their third summer there. It was something new that his Grunkle Stan had been trying out, customized name magnets that followed a basic format of '[YOUR NAME HERE] LOVES THE MYSTERY SHACK!.' They were moderately successful, only problem was that the only names that were provided by the company that Stan had ordered these in bulk from were very common names. Which did sell, but because it was Gravity Falls and it was the Mystery Shack there were indeed some tourists who had unique names that were not represented by the magnets that were being sold. Dipper still laughed a bit when he could remember his Grunkle making a guide based on how to select the magnet that had the closest name to yours if your name was not available. So that's how dipper had ended up with a free 'DAN LOVES THE MYSTERY SHACK! ' magnet.
Staring at the note on the fridge Dipper felt a weird feeling plant roots in his stomach and crawl its way up his chest. If everything was to go according to plan this would be most likely the last piece of contact he’d have with his parents. And despite how awful they had been over the past recent years they were still his parents. It hurt, but it was freeing. Dipper supposed it was just growing up. Just a fact of life.
He returned back into the living room to be greeted with news that Mabel had found a bus ride that would depart in around an hour and twenty minutes. Giving the set of twins plenty of time to finish indulging in their snack session and triple check that they had everything.
“Are you excited dipper?? Im excited!! Are you excited waddles???” Mabel exclaimed after taking a sizable bite of a rather large taffy. Waddles squealed in agreement and Dipper gave a nervous laugh.
“Yeah that's a word for it. This is going to be one hell of a summer.”
△
The next concept-of-a-day, to the surprise of no one, consisted of nearly the same shit. And at the halfway point Bill was officially over tuning everyone out by mentally rewatching Mersey Mhore - which is exactly as it sounds: the M dimension rip off of the extremely popular (and original) lottocron shore (which he had already finished mentally rewatching the-concept-of-2 weeks ago). And truthfully he was about to crawl out of his own skin if something totally interesting and fun didn't happen right that second. Which was why when arts and crafts time came around Bill totally didn't goad Abel into stabbing Cain with safety scissors which then totally didn't escalate into damn near a full blown prison/psych ward riot. Which is why for the second concept-of-a-day in a row Bill had found himself parked in the chair that was in the big salamanders office.
What were you thinking, what was the reason
For turning arts and crafts into hunting season
You must know that I am dissappoi-
“Wow, not even a hello, how are you first? Gee doc you must be really mad at me.” Bill spoke while angling himself to put his feet back upon their usual spot on the desk he found that they were quickly swatted away by a large pink arm
I am being serious Bill, this is no joking matter
I am almost at my limit, you can save your funny chatter
What happened today was truly a disgrace
Both parties have been sent to solitary, clearly needing space
As for you, I'm afraid my options are few
In fact there is probably close to only one for you
And with that, I have made my decision
It seems your treatment plan needed some revision
Come next meteor shower, at exactly the start
You will be sent out of here with only your smarts
A new form, a different time, but you nonetheless
This is not a game, and this is not a test
This is goodbye, as much as it pains me to say
But there's nothing else I can do for you, we must part ways.
Bill stared at the axolotl in front of him in absolute awe. His singular eye pried open wide in shock and disbelief. There was no way that the axolotl was actually letting him out of here. Has he finally done it? Shown this stupid amphibian that therapy was useless garbage on triangles as smart as him? He could hardly believe it. It seemed like it was too good to be true. And maybe if Bill had been paying closer attention he would have realized that that was in fact definitely the case and has always been the case with frills and expecting anything else was completely foolish on his end. But things had been different. And one of these key differences was that Bill would occasionally allow himself to indulge in a small cautious amount of optimism.
And for the second time now, Bill had been successfully duped by the big salamander in the sky.