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tswwwit · 11 months

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I had a dumb idea based on this ask, and then I wrote it!

Short Reincarnation thing where Bill gets his stupid body killed before meeting Dipper, and years later DIpper stumbles across him anyway.

When Dipper sees the faint golden glow in the distance, he staggers up to his feet.

Finally, after endless gray and black and white. After aimless wandering, with nobody to see or hear, nobody to call -

There’s a light.

Dipper walks towards the light slowly. Cautiously. Then faster. Soon he’s running, eager to see what’s in front of him for the first time in the last probably-four-hours.

Who cares what’s ahead of him? It’s different from everything else around; it has color.

Maybe it’s a way out of here.

He never should have gone to Gravity Falls. Not even with his semi-new confidence with his still-new magic, hoping he would find answers, not even to look for The Thing. Leaving Seattle to explore the infamously magical, dangerous, and nearly impenetrable woods here has to be the dumbest idea he’s ever had.

The glow in the clearing stays steady as he approaches, a steady unflickering light. A beacon.

Dipper stumbles into the patch of grass between the trees. Nearly trips, before he stands still, chest heaving.

What is it? He doesn’t see anything around. There’s a fallen log, and plants, an old shove leaning against a nearby tree, and.

There.

The bright gold light is coming from the ground.

Dipper takes a few, slow steps closer. Arching his neck, leaning into see what might be emitting that light, in the patch of soft bare ground underneath the grass. There’s -

A triangle.

Dipper frowns at it.

Whatever happened to send him into weird gray not-time, it was obviously magic, These woods are magic, this entire thing is because of magic. Obviously this thing is magic, too.

That can’t be great.

But while Dipper doesn’t know what this thing is, it’s the only thing around that’s not monochrome besides himself. That has to be a sign. Good or bad, he’s not sure.

He crouches down nearby. Not getting too close, yet.

Yeah. Definitely super magical. This close, it’s a bright light even in Dipper’s magical senses, and he’s pretty shit at those even for an amateur.

The object’s made of… gold? Maybe. At least it looks metallic now that he’s close enough to get an idea of the texture. Larger than Dipper thought at first glance, but small enough to theoretically pick up if he dared. And for some reason there’s a miniature top hat rolled off to the side, which is like. What.

Also, it’s chained to the ground.

A very thick yellow metal chain - gold again? Maybe - that’s linked to one of the corners. It’s long enough to meander around the clearing and pile in a neat coil near the fallen log, then back to the center before abruptly delving into the soil.

Hesitantly, Dipper edges a little closer. Nothing happens.

He waves a hand, and gives it a vague magical poke. Looking for movement, or like, big flashy stuff, or a reaction.

Nothing.

Okay. Big magic inside, but not reactive. Possibly inert. Dipper’s filing that under ‘good’ in terms of signs, but he’s ready to revise at a moment’s notice.

Since the triangle isn’t doing anything, it’s up to Dipper to take action. Fumbling at his side, he keeps his eye on the shape. Just in case it - he doesn’t know, explodes or catches fire or something.

Dipper finds what he’s searching for, and grips it tight. Nodding, once.

When in doubt, poke it with a stick.

He pokes it.

In a flash, the shape leaps from the ground, opens one huge, slit-pupiled eye and gets right in his face with a huge noise that Dipper will later remember is ‘BLARG’.

Despite himself, Dipper screams. The thing screams back at him, thin black arms flailing wildly, inches away. Dipper screams even louder, making a failed leap backward to hit the ground on his butt.

“AHHHH - HA! Ah ha ha ha ha!” The yelling devolves into wild, delighted laughter. The triangle crosses an arm over its front as it cackles, smacking a hand against one of its legs. “Whoo! Oh man! You shoulda seen the look on your face!”

Dipper stares. His heart is pounding, he’s trying to catch his breath. He lets go of his shirt, patting vaguely on the ground for the stick.

“You were all like ‘Aaaugh’!’” The triangle flails dramatically again, then starts laughing harder. It wipes under its eye. It looks, as much as any shape can, both totally thrilled and completely unrepentant. “Totally worth it.”

“You asshole.” Dipper sits up, trying to calm down. Unfortunately he truly has lost track of the stick, because he wants to throw something at this jerk.

“Ah, c’mon! You made that way too easy.” The triangle shrugs, lifting up two hands. It flaps a hand in Dipper’s direction. “Some guy all alone in the woods? No backup? No idea what he’s doing?” Its lower eyelid turns up. “You’re a tempting little opportunity, kid!”

Dipper says nothing. He simply glares, and flips it off.

And okay, that is a point, if you look at the situation in a totally twisted way. Dipper is kind of stranded and ignorant and -

Wait, shit, he is.all of those things, and if this kind of thing is around, then what else is.

Dipper pushes himself to his feet, and glances around quickly - but, no. Besides the jerk in front of him, nothing’s changed. Nobody and nothing around. Still very… still.

There’s a tap on his shoulder and he jumps -

But it’s the jerk. Again. One noodly arm extending unnaturally, just to bother Dipper with a poke or two.

“Easy, sapling, there’s nobody here but us.” It says, tugging Dipper closer with one hand, and flapping the other in a semi-reassuring way.. “You can tone down the jumpiness for the moment! Believe it or not, I ain’t got any plans to hurt ya.”

Dipper shrugs, still examining the woods. It’s as silent and unmoving as always, so. Maybe they are alone here. One point in that thing’s favor.

For lack of anything to say, Dipper flips it off for a second time. It starts laughing again, clasping its surface.

Weirdly enough, Dipper kind of does believe it. That it doesn’t want to hurt him. Hell knows It had the jump on him, he had no defenses and didn’t expect anything to defend against. And it used that to be annoying, instead of harmful.

He looks it over anyway, still skeptical. It waves back, looking oddly cheerful and glowing slightly brighter.

Alright. No creature Dipper knows about fits this description. There’s magic, sure, but he doesn’t have enough experience to get a gist of it there. All he can tell is that it feels a lot more powerful than it looks, and that makes him vaguely uneasy.

Since he can’t get a read on it, and doesn’t know what to do with it -

Fuck it. Dipper just asks. “What are you?”

“Usually it’s ‘who’, not ‘what’, kid. Way to make a guy feel appreciated.” It - he - chides, sounding annoyed. One of this creature’s arms goes down in a curve to grab the hat on the ground, setting it on his top point. “But since you insist, I’m the local demon in these parts.”

Demon. Great.

And an even greater sign for where Dipper somehow ended up, if this is the type of creature he’s running into.

Where the hell is he, anyway? How the hell did he get here. What does he do with this thing? And most importantly -

How quickly can he get the fuck out.

“What, chupacabra got your tongue? Introductions are in order!” The demon shoves his other arm at Dipper, palm up. Like he’s offering a handshake. “Name’s Bill.”

Dipper nearly shakes its hand - the first stupid move - and nearly speaks his own name, then stops. Glaring at this creature with suspicion.

Which is when the rest of the information hits home like an arrow.

Dipper drops his arms, holding them stiff at his sides. “Wait. Bill, like. Bill Cipher?” He shrinks back in alarm.

“Wow. Really?” ‘Bill’ says, looking grumpy now. “Now that’s rich. I don’t go around assuming every human named ‘John’ is the same guy, now do I?” He floats away a bit, slightly turned to the side. Eyeing Dipper with clear disapproval. “Real classy of ya, kid.”

“Okay, okay, sorry.” Dipper grimaces. He pats the air a bit, awkward. Bill turns slightly back towards him. “I shouldn’t have assumed.”

He guesses that was a bit dumb, anyway. Bill Cipher has a totally different MO.

That guy’s powerful demon who can wander around reality. Arson and murder and mayhem are his favorite hobbies. He travels around wearing a handsome human form, adding chaos to the life of whichever mortal he’s picked that time around, with terrible delight.

Not exactly the same level as this Bill, who’s stuck in the middle of nowhere, pulling prank-level jumpscares.

If a demon like Cipher could be chained up in some weird gray pocket dimension, one of his mortals would have done it ages ago.

“Hey, no biggie!” Bill brightens up, facing Dipper again. He must not have taken the assumption too harshly; he almost looks pleased. “Not a bad guy to be compared to, all things considered.”

Dipper can’t help but make a mental note. Kind of interesting, that Cipher’s well known even outside of reality. That being compared to him is flattering, too, he didn’t expect that. Aren’t there books about this sort of thing? Dipper kind of wishes he’d studied more about demons, even though he never thought he’d need to -

But this isn’t the time to get sidetracked. No matter how interesting it is.

“Uh, I’m Dipper.” He gives Bill a little wave, instead of taking the again-offered hand to shake. He knows better. Bill drops his hand, thwarted for the moment. “It’s. Interesting to see you.”

Which is true. In that Dipper, finally, has met another… ‘person’ in the place he’s ended up, and that means…

Time to get information.

“Where am I?”

“First time visiting, huh?” Bill floats over, the chain making a strange tinkling sound as it drags behind him. He slings an arm over Dipper’s shoulder in a companionable way, and Dipper tenses. “Lemme introduce you!

“Welcome to the liminal space between dreams and waking! The infinite realm of thought! The Nightmare Realm - or Mindscape, if ya like.” Bill waves over the woods in a broad gesture - then sighs, letting his arm drop. “Though since we’re in the extra liminal bit near your place, it’s not nearly as fun.”

That… makes precisely zero sense. Dipper waits, but Bill’s started glaring at their surroundings instead. Hardly helpful.

Dipper tries to squirm out from under his arm, but it’s oddly difficult to shake off. “That doesn’t make sense.”

“It means we’re stuck in the outskirts, kid. The blendy-in part! Specifically the bit where it’s real solid, cause it’s closest to your usual digs.” Bill flaps a hand over the monochrome scenery, looking annoyed at the scene. “The reality-adjacent burnt edge of pie crust, instead of the golden-brown, juicy, gory middle. Not the best part by miles..”

One bit of information, then. Dipper’s not quite in a different realm, or outside of reality. No, that would be too simple.

Instead, he’s wound up in the spot where reality bleeds into another dimension. Where things aren’t one place or another, not one thing or another, and there’s probably a lot of magical theory that has a ton to explain all of it, except he hasn’t finished reading those books.

In theory, Dipper would take his time, and try to figure it out. Piece together the bits he’s learned. Maybe even ask Bill for input, since he seems to know about all of this stuff -

In practice, he keeps running over the words Bill used earlier.

‘We’re,’ Bill said. Including himself in the previous term, even though he’s an actual, literal demon.

And, ‘Stuck’. Bill said.

“So….” Dipper lets the word trail for a while, palms sweating. He rubs them on his jeans, trying for a smile. “Is there a way out of these… edges?”

“Unless you’re an advanced expert in interdimensional dynamics? Probably not!” Bill shrugs, sounding cheerful despite the horrible news he imparts, or maybe because of it. “Hope you enjoy silence and stillness, Pine Tree.” He pats his surface, eye shut with pride. “But if ya don’t, you’re welcome to hang with yours truly!”

Two horrible options. Dipper stares at Bill for a long moment, not sure what to say.

He’s not an expert, not at all. He has magic, a lot, apparently, but he barely knows what he’s doing with it, doesn’t know how he has it, and mostly it just makes stuff explode. He can barely light a candle without consequences, much less escape the borderlands of a realm of freakin’ thought.

“Oh,” He says instead. All the air seems like it’s come out of his lungs. “Have a seat, kid.” Bill darts over towards the log, gesturing Dipper closer. He pats the wood invitingly. “After all, misery loves company!”

Feeling numb, Dipper walks over. He turns around, and sits down.

After a moment, he rests his face in his hands.

“So! I already know you’re not from around Gravity Falls,” Bill says, floating a few inches over the log and right next to Dipper. Patting thigh, which would almost be reassuring except for everything, ever, and the way he gives it a weird squeeze. “I woulda seen it!”

“Yeah.” Dipper glances over, briefly. Then looks forward again..

“Boy, you’re turning out to be a great conversationalist! How lucky for me.” Bill says, very dry. He throws his arms in the air. “Figures. You’d have to be brain-damaged to wander these woods for no reason.”

“I had a reason,” Dipper protests. One he didn’t understand, sure. But he had one.

“Oh yeah? What?”

“I just - I had to.” Dipper folds his arms, looking away. Somehow it makes even less sense when he says it out loud.

Bill shrugs, and says nothing. For a while, actually. Dipper does the same, mouth shut.

Maybe Bill’s planning something, or maybe he’s hoping to hear about Dipper’s vulnerabilities - but Dipper wasn’t born yesterday. He might not have had magic until a few years ago, but he’s still not an idiot. He’s not blabbing about his life to a demon of all creatures -

For about five seconds.

He can’t help it. The silence feels so deeply wrong that he has to break it. “I don’t know. I just felt-”

Like he was being drawn here. Like there was an invisible thread, tugging gently at him until he couldn’t ignore it. Whispering, in quiet words, that he might find what he wanted.

A subtle, but effective temptation. Dipper did the stupid thing. He came here on that idiotic whim, and now look what’s happened.

Maybe he should have known better. But.

For the longest time, Dipper has felt like something’s missing. Nothing he could ever really explain, or make sense of. When he lets himself think about it, which is rarely, it’s The Thing; a feeling so vague he can’t even put a name to it.

All he knows is that something’s gone and it sucks. Like a piece is missing in his own personal puzzle, maybe dropped off the table or skimmed across the floor, and now he can’t find the stupid thing for the life of him. Doubly infuriating because it was the one last piece he needed, right before it went and fucked off.

When he got his magic, that helped with The Thing, a little. When he started actively looking for The Thing, that helped, too.

But he still doesn’t know what it is, much less where it is, and he might never find the answer.

Not that he’s telling Bill any of that.

“I had an impulse, and a stupid idea.” Dipper shrugs. “You know how it is.” Hopefully he does. If not, Bill will find out how annoying getting no explanation is.

“Bet you have a lot of those.” Bill says, amused. He stalks over the log, prodding Dipper in the side. “Probably famous for it!”

“Shut up.” Now Dipper flicks Bill on the side, annoyed. He’s not the only one included in that terrible adjective. “What about you? What brought you here?”

“None of your beeswax.” Bill sets his fists on his edges, looking proud. “I’m doing exactly what I wanna be doing.”

Dipper casts a long, deliberate glance over the chain, and raises an eyebrow. Bill glares at him.

“Yeah, yeah, things could be a little more lively, whatever.” Another dismissive wave. Bill hops from the log onto Dipper’s leg, and drops down with a surprisingly heavy feel. He shrugs. “But hey, you’re gonna be with me for the foreseeable future! I can work with that.”

So Bill is trapped. He’s come as close to admitting it as Dipper’s likely to get.

On an impulse, he pats Bill on his weird, metal back. If it’s a back; Dipper’s guessing because it’s the surface that doesn’t have his eye on it. Bill makes a pleased sound, so it must not be too weird.

“I’m guessing your whole deal is, what, mystery hunting? You don’t seem the monster hunter type.” Bill prods his arm, squeezing his bicep with a narrowed eye. “Or hey! Maybe you were just dumb enough to poke around for no reason!” Oh for - Dipper just said he had one. Bill knows that, he’s just being a dick. “I’m not dumb.” He sits up a little straighter, jabbing a thumb at his chest. Lifting his chin in defiance. “At least I’ve never been chained up.”

“Ah, a real vanilla guy.” Bill rubs under his eye thoughtfully. Dipper feels his face warm with embarrassment, waving his hands. That’s not what he meant - and Bill brightens up.. “Guess ‘adventurous’ only goes so far, huh?”

Dipper splutters, not sure how to respond. Bill waggles his upper eyelid, nudging him in the side - and Dipper can’t not respond to this asshole.

Unfortunately, Bill’s ready with a retort for every protest. Dipper can’t let that lie, so he has to accuse him of his own stupidity back, and forth, and back again.

They actually keep at it, for… longer than Dipper expected. More easily than expected.

He kind of thought that being trapped here, trying to keep up conversation with Bill, would trail off into awkward silence more often than not. Dipper’s never been great with small talk, he has to plan, like, half of his conversations in his head before they happen.

Turns out it’s hard to feel awkward when you really want to make the other guy shut up first.

Bill’s still a jerk, sure. Dipper's known that from moment one. He starts arguments without a purpose, delighting himself with stupid puns, and it turns out he finds it hard to resist a double entendre. That’s a weak point; Dipper can use it. He has to think on his feet to keep up with him, there’s no time to get mired down.

It’s all pointless, stupid bickering. Bill prodding at him, Dipper responding and prodding back. Bill’s pretty cagey; Dipper doesn’t get much from him.

Bill, though. Gets a lot. Probably more than he wanted, because Dipper finds once he starts talking about some things, he has a lot more to say about them than he thought.

He’s not sure why he’s doing it. Or how he started. He knows Bill hasn’t used magic on him, he can feel that much, it’s just….

Bill keeps asking pointed questions, so he’s asking for it. Dipper hasn’t been able to talk about some of this before, and Bill’s a literally captive audience. Possibly because Bill couldn’t tell anyone else Dipper knows, and partly… because he’s a terrible listener, which kind of helps. Like it doesn’t matter what Dipper says, because Bill won’t care enough to use it against him.

“Not to mention going through magical puberty, like a decade too late.” Dipper finishes, after going over a long, long list of complaints. About his shitty life. About how much things suck. He waves over the air for emphasis. Bill, sitting on his thigh, leans back so his hat isn’t knocked off. “Do you know what that’s like?”

“Likely hilarious! But so what?” Bill sits back up, kicking his legs idly. Which also means he’s lightly kicking Dipper’s other leg. “What’s wrong with more power?”

Dipper opens his mouth to argue. Then stops.

It makes sense that a demon wouldn’t get it, due to, well. Being a demon. They’re all power hungry. To Bill, this could only seem like a good thing. He wouldn’t understand how-

“More power means solving some problems, alright.” Dipper changes tactics, rubbing at his eyes. There’s a headache coming on, he can feel it. “But now I have different problems. Bigger ones.”

“Aha! Inexperience.” Bill brightens up a bit more, waving off the rest of Dipper’s concerns. “Easy, kid, that’s all temporary. Once you get used to blasting things to pieces, you’d be amazed how many problems are flammable!”

Dipper feels his mouth draw into a thin line. He doesn’t know what he expected.

He drops back onto the log, resting his chin in his hand. Bill pats his lower back, and starts rambling on about optimal targeting techniques, but Dipper’s not paying attention.

Different experiences, and different problems. He’s in a different place, which has totally eclipsed the Thing problem. Bill’s here too, but he doesn’t seem like the major issue.

The big one, right now, is going home, and how the hell Dipper’s going to do that.

“There has to be a way out of here.”. He’s not going to give up. Not now.

“Well,” Bill draws out the word, slow and with a detectable hint of smugness. “There might be one way to get your butt back to reality.”

Dipper tenses up.

Right. He should have seen this coming, because Bill’s a demon. He hadn’t forgotten that fact, but he’d put it out of the front of his mind.

“I see where this is going.” Dipper folds his arms, and gives Bill an unimpressed look. “Let me guess. You’re an expert in interdimensional dynamics.”

“Never said I wasn’t!” Bill’s lower eyelid is raised in amusement. “To tell the truth, sapling, I’m one of the best in the biz.” He throws in a wink, even with one eye. “You really lucked out meeting me.”

Another thing Dipper should have expected. Bill might be stuck, but he never said the why, only implied it. The chain should have been a clue. A demon would know how to handle dimensions, too, since they can be summoned and dismissed. And trapped.

Demons are also notorious for another thing. Dipper’s not looking forward to it.

Escape isn’t going to come without a cost.

“What do you want,” He says, flat.

“Make a deal with me!” Bill floats up and in front of Dipper, arms spread invitingly. “I’ll show you how to get out of here in seconds, no problem.”

“What’s the cost.” Dipper remains stern. Glaring, now. Bill hasn’t gotten to it yet, but there’s going to be a catch.

“Yeesh, way to rush things.” Bill wags a finger, almost chiding. “A jaunt back home can’t be all you want! Think about what you’d really want out of life. ‘Cause I’ve got more magic to work with than you could comprehend!”

Bill waves his arm, and this time -

Okay. Dipper has to admit it’s impressive.

Wherever Bill gestures, a small scene plays out, like a movie. Bright and colorful, standing out against the bland background.

“You could ask for fame!” A brief shot of Dipper, being lauded by a crowd. Bill snaps his fingers. “For riches!” Piles of gold tumble around fake-Dipper’s feet, burying him to the ankles - another snap. “Or hell, even True Love!”

And a shadowy figure sneaks up on fake-Dipper, then seizes him by the waist, lifting him up. Fake-Dipper looks surprised, then annoyed. He struggles, kicking out helplessly, right before he’s dragged off into nothingness.

Dipper stares at the lingering void left until the ‘screen’ vanishes. Then, incredulously, at Bill.

Bill pops up in front of him again, fists set on his sides with pride. “Name it, kid, and it’s on offer. I could get you all that crap that humans like and more!”

“I’ll pass.” Dipper flips Bill off, much to his amusement.

“What, too intimidating?” Bill leans in, nudging Dipper with an elbow-adjacent bend of his arm. “Be reasonable, Pine Tree. You’re gonna make a deal anyway. Why not get something cool while you’re at it?”

Okay, fair point. If Dipper’s risking his soul, he might as well get something else while he’s at it.

But it’s also dangerous. Bill’s going to cheat, and lie, and according to what he showed Dipper has a totally different view of what’s actually appealing to humans. Making this deal too complicated could only end poorly.

Everything he’s offering probably comes with a catch, anyway. Fame would probably be for, like, accidentally exploding a building, money from a murder or whatever. Bill’s idea of ‘love’ is just. Yeah, Dipper’s going to pass. And even if there weren’t a huge pitfall waiting for him - Bill certainly couldn’t give Dipper what he’s really looking for, especially when even Dipper’s not sure what it is.

For a moment, then, Dipper lingers on the image of his shitty apartment. How cold it’s going to be when fall turns into winter, and how his car is starting to make unnerving sounds when -

He shakes his head to clear it.

“Just get me out of here.”

Bill groans, clearly disappointed. “Yeah yeah, stubbornness. But ya gotta sweeten the deal for me, too.” He rubs his fingers together, eye narrowed. “Make it worth my while.”

Of freaking course there’s a minimum buy-in. Dipper groans, rubbing at his eyes. If he has to add onto this -

“Alright, fine.” He throws his hands in the air.. “Like, enough gas money to get home.” That shouldn’t cost too much. Hopefully.

Bill remains undeterred. He narrows his eye, skeptical. “That’s it? I get skipping over the ‘fame’ one, alright, that can be a pain. When everyone knows who you are, they get all up in your business! But you’re not gonna ask for any affection?” He blinks for a moment, spreading his hands and somewhat incredulous himself. “‘Cause I got-”

“Some really bad ideas.” Dipper says. Bill looks miffed, crossing his arms over his golden front. “Are we doing this deal or not?”

“Hmph. You got no idea what you’re missing out on.” Bill sniffs, which is weird because he doesn’t have a nose - “Fine, we’ll do it your way. Spoilsport.”

Dipper straightens up, feeling a sudden burst of pride. Bill’s bothered, which means Dipper avoided a trap. He’s in a little less danger.

“Now, about getting you back to reality. That’s some tricky business there, but I got ideas.” Bill taps under his eye, thoughtful. He stares off into space, pupil changing shape and size, flickering for a moment before it snaps back to ‘normal’. “You’re gonna need a life spell.”

“What?”

Dipper’s experience is pretty limited, in that he’s only had magic for a few years, but he’s not stupid. To change back dimensions, and get home, life magic doesn’t fit. All it deals with is flesh and blood and a bit with spirit, but that can’t apply here. He thinks..

“What do you mean, what? Who’s the expert here, anyway?” Brightening up, Bill swings an arm around DIpper’s shoulder again, half-guiding and half-dragging him into the middle of the clearing. “You got the magic for it, you got the talent for it. You lack the education for it, but I can walk you through the basics, and we can cram everything into the same spell! One and done, easy.”

“That’s… convenient.” And concerning. Dipper stares at the bare earth under his feet, shifting under Bill’s arm. “So how do I-”

“Ahem.” Bill clears his nonexistent throat, tapping a fist against his surface. He gives Dipper a meaningful look, though what it’s trying to convey is impossible to parse.

Dipper glares at him. Another catch, probably. “What now.”

“You called it earlier, kid! Before we start rifling through the guts of it,” Bill drifts closer, until his eye is right up near Dipper’s face. He pokes him on the cheek with amusement. “We gotta discuss my price.”

Right. There was always going to be one, wasn’t there.

Dealing with a demon. The stupidest thing possible.

“How much?” Dipper asks, voice flat. Adding, before Bill can speak up - “I don’t really have much, uh. To me.”

It won’t be cash. Even inexperienced, Dipper knows that much. Whatever Bill asks for, Dipper’s soul’s not going to be on the table; he’d rather be trapped than do that. Maybe Bill will request a demonic thing, but Dipper doesn’t have any connections to other magical beings, any cool relics, or any secret knowledge.

He really hopes this isn’t going to be painful, or traumatic. Or anything physical, for that matter. Dying in the process of escaping kind of defeats the point.

“Hm. Lemme think.” Bill hums for a moment, eye narrowed. “One spell, complete with escape from the realm you accidentally stumbled your ignorant ass into, and one dose of obscene wealth-” Dipper clears his throat, loud. “Alright, minor wealth, loser. That should run ya…”

Dipper stuffs his hands in his pockets, waiting with growing unease. Bill’s rubbing under his eye in thought, like he’s trying to see how much he can gouge Dipper for. Hopefully it’s not flesh.

Then Bill stops, and holds up a finger. “One kiss. Seems fair to me!”

Dipper stares at this… thing for a moment. “What.”

Bill glows brighter, seemingly pleased with himself. “Pretty great deal, am I right?”

“Very funny.” Dipper gives him a derisive look. “What do you actually want?”

“A kiss, kid. With tongue.” Bill says, very seriously. He shuts his eye and wags a finger in the air.. “We’re talking a real tonsil-tickler here, none of that chaste peck crap.”

“With who?” Dipper has a dreadful suspicion. Which isn’t helped by the way Bill gleefully points two thumbs at himself. “You can’t be serious.”

“Dead serious, sapling.” Bill spreads his arms wide, lower eyelid rises in a simulacrum of a smile. “One frenching for one freedom. You couldn’t find a better bargain even if you did have options!”

The worst part is that’s probably right. What Bill’s asking for sounds like it’s the cheapest thing on offer. Most demons would put the price point so much higher - flesh, souls, family, mass slaughter - that it wouldn’t be worth considering.

Dipper can’t believe he’s considering this.

“And it’s not going to like, burn my mouth with acid, or suck out all my organs, or-”

“Boy, are you paranoid. Typical,” Bill says, sounding exasperated. He rolls his eye in its socket, around and around, before settling back on Dipper. “You can’t kiss back if you pass away, kid! I want active participation, and you’re only up for some lip action right now.”

Dipper remains skeptical. He leans back a bit, making a face.

But the request’s bizarre enough to feel honest, and technically it’s better than the other things Dipper was imagining. All in all, a quick kiss actually does seem like a bargain.

Which means Dipper shouldn’t trust it one bit.

Thinking about it, Bill’s been stuck here, for who knows how long, without access to much. No hanging out with other demons, no manipulating humans. Lacking anyone to talk to, or - have other mouth actions with, or anything. He’s not operating on standard demon motivations. Likely this has a different angle. Something else he can use to exploit.

Why would Bill want this?

Dipper looks him up and down slowly, lips drawn tight. Trying to figure him out.

Bill clearly takes his attention as interest, because he straightens his hat, and adjusts his tie with obvious pride. He wipes at his surface, hums a little tune, and there’s a squeaking sound as he rubs a wrist against his side. Like he’s polishing it.

Or…. maybe it’s a bargain because Bill actually wants to make out. The primping can’t be anything but alarmingly sincere.

“Okay.” Dipper gives in, and lets his shoulders drop. Being trapped has obviously tanked Bill’s standards - or his uses for pounds of flesh. Either way, it’s worked out in his favor. “Let’s do this.”

“Glad to hear it!” Bill floats closer, cupping Dipper’s face in his weird hands. They're oddly soft for a guy who’s mostly made of metal. “Now pucker up, buttercup, and we’ll seal the deal.”

“Don’t call me that,” Dipper says. Bill squishes his cheeks a few times, until Dipper smacks his front.

“Eh, I got other nicknames to use,” Bill says, and draws Dipper in.

Dipper shuts his eyes. He doesn’t want to see this. Whatever’s about to touch his face, it’s probably terrifying.

For a moment he’s tempted to call it off, but then Bill will protest and maybe cut the deal off, leaving him right back at square one and with less bargaining power. Too late to back out.

Sterning himself, Dipper lets it happen.

There’s… a mouth? Against his mouth. Something, anyway, and it’s not soft but not sharp or stinging, and for the moment his face isn’t melting off. Dipper can work with that.

There’s a tug on his shirt, and Bill makes an insistent ‘mmh!’. Right, he has to participate. Damn it.

Kissing Bill back isn’t hard, if he pretends he’s not holding onto the edges of a demonic shape. And forgets the fact that he’s buying his freedom with a makeout session. When a few seconds pass and Dipper hasn’t exploded or turned into a monster, he even manages to relax.

Yeah. He can get through this. It’s not too bad. Honestly, Bill’s handling this pretty well, all things considered. It’s not slimy or sloppy, or particularly rough.Their teeth haven’t clicked together once, if Bill even has any - and he doesn’t smell bad. Or like anything, really.

So, surprisingly, it’s not the worst kiss Dipper’s ever had. Bill, apparently, has some experience in this area. That raises so many questions.

Something wet flickers against his lips, and very reluctantly, Dipper lets them part. This could be -

Huh. Bill tastes like…. basil? Of all the things Dipper was expecting, that wasn’t even on the list. And while he’s made of metal and sharp corners, he’s warm, too, and his hand cupping the back of Dipper’s neck runs up and down in a way that’s almost. Nice. Tonsils remain uninvolved, too. If Bill’s forgotten that part, then Dipper’s not going to bring it up.

He’s not sure how long they spend like that, because - well, after a while it’s kind of interesting? That Bill can do this at all. That needs investigating. If Dipper needs to take a weird route to study it, well, that’s acceptable losses. He can deal.

Until there’s a slow slide up his thigh, and a hand squeezes Dipper’s butt.

Dipper shoves this jerk away, grimacing. That wasn’t part of the deal. “Hey! Hands off.”

“What hands? They’re right here!” Bill blinks innocently, and offers them up for Dipper’s inspection.

Now that’s just bullshit. DIpper reaches behind himself, seizes the offending limb, and shoves it right at Bill’s surface. “What about this?”

“Oh wow, what a surprise!” While Bill’s third arm gives Dipper a jaunty wave, he shrugs with the other two. A fourth one pops out and smacks against his edge in mock surprise. “Where’d that come from?”

Yep. Still, absolutely, one hundred percent asshole. He doesn’t know what he expected.

Dipper flips him off. Again. He wishes he knew more obscene gestures, because this one just makes Bill laugh.

“I’ll call that a deal fulfilled, sapling. Very nice, by the way! You really went for it!” Bill’s glowing bright, unperturbed. Glossing over the fact that he’s been caught being a pervert. “Even I can’t claim you didn’t pay up.”

Dipper wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, and shrugs. “Just show me the spell.”

“Aw, but it was a fun time, am I right?” Bill tickles Dipper under the chin, lower eyelid raised. He gives Dipper double finger guns, beaming.. ”Next one’s on the house.”

Dipper rubs at his eyes. Honestly. It’s a good reminder.

If it weren’t for Bill’s sheer dickishness, he might have said something nearly positive, and that would have been a huge mistake.

A deal, done. A payment, made.

Now, to actually get Dipper’s portion.

Though it takes some arguing. Or rather, a lot of arguing, and a relative armload of innuendoes, only half of which make sense - Dipper, eventually, steers Bill back onto the right track.

Turns out the trick is questioning whether or not he can actually do it. Questioning Bill’s competence, or knowledge, lights a fire under his nonexistent ass.

Pride, Dipper notes, is a weak point for Bill. Though he’s not likely to ever need it again, it’s still nice to know.

Bill’s also surprisingly okay to work with. Kind of like the kiss, Dipper expected it to be painful, but Bill actually, amazingly, knows what he’s doing. Albeit without making Dipper have questions he’s not sure he wants the answers to.

Bill projects an outline of the circle that needs to be drawn, Dipper can easily trace it. His knowledge truly is deep, too; Bill has an encyclopedic knowledge of sigils and runes, and only minorly goes on tangents about destructive and chaotic energy.

And, though it sucks to admit - he was right again.

The spell Dipper needs to cast truly is simple. At least on Dipper’s end. All he needs to do is power the thing, and channel it with some theory that Bill described in gory yet helpful terms.

But the spell *is* life magic. Magic’s not enough; it needs a little more, as Bill put it, ‘oomph’ to get it going.

Dipper flicks the pocketknife open, ready to draw it across his palm. He steadies himself with a deep breath.

Blood is connected to it, magically. A few drops is all it should take. Then it’s over. He’ll be done here.

He’ll get to go home.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa!” Bill grabs Dipper’s wrist before he makes the cut. “Piss poor placing, kid. You want the back of the arm or a leg or something.” He wags a chiding finger. “More blood, and more convenient if you wanna grab anything later.”

Dipper honestly hadn’t thought of that. In movies and stuff, everyone goes for - but. Yeah.

Yet again, Bill’s been oddly helpful.

In fact, this entire time he’s been oddly, annoyingly helpful. When Dipper was stuck. When he wanted to complain, and the deal really could have been worse. Maybe it’s only because Bill’s been bored, and he doesn’t have anyone else to mess with. Or because he kind of thinks Dipper’s… worth kissing.

In any case. It’s the sort of thing he should probably mention.

“Uh. Thanks.” Dipper says, feeling awkward. “You’ve been kind of cool. For a demon.”

“Ha! Now that’s rare!” Bill drifts upwards, fists on his edges. He looks supremely amused. “Glad you spoke up, sapling.” Somehow, he winks with only one eye. “I won’t ever let you forget it.”

Back to ominous, then. Dipper’s going to try and ignore it

“Okay, well. See you… hopefully never again.” He states, and draws the knife over the back of his arm. Just a nick, but enough to draw a few drops.

As Bill starts laughing, Dipper shuts his eyes for a second time, kneeling on the ground, and muttering the chant. He’s already memorized it, no need to listen to Bill anymore.

Goodbye, demon, goodbye, awful grey realm -

He draws on the magic, that deep and infinite pool inside him, and pushes.

There’s a strange, clinking sound. A rush of magic out of him,more than he’s used before, it almost leaves him dizzy, and the spell itself clicks into place, complete.

That’s it. He’s done. He’s -

Dipper looks up.

Everything’s still monochrome, so. That’s not good.

He gets to his feet slowly, checking - but no, no change. Still stuck, in this impossible liminal realm.

With a start, he realizes that nothing’s glowing in the clearing, either.

Dipper looks around, suddenly alert, but he doesn’t hear anything. Not a laugh, or a mocking comment. No matter how he looks, there’s no chain. No gold. No freaking Bill around, completely vanished from sight -

“That son of a bitch.” Dipper clenches his fists at his sides.

Goddamn it, he should have realized. That entire thing was incredibly, recklessly stupid. It was a trick, Bill’s been freed - and Dipper’s still trapped.

But you know what? Fuck Bill. Dipper doesn’t need him.

He’s smart. He got here to begin with, and he didn’t need some asshole to help him with that; he can get out as well. He’s going to figure this out, learn a hell a lot more about demons, get really great at magic, and - and all sorts of other things, too, all out of sheer spite. He’s going to get out of here-

As he clenches his fists, jaw tightening, color washes over the scene.

Dipper blinks again. Then waves his arms, suddenly confused.

That was fast. Almost as fast as thought.

There’s a breeze on his skin, the smell of the forest in the air. The sky is less dark, though it’s nearly sunset. Dipper spends a long tense minute, watching the sun relative to the horizon, tension tight in his chest. Feeling a huge shudder of relief, as it does, in fact, move. Time’s moving. Time’s normal, and the world is normal, and real.

The spell did work. On a delay that Bill never mentioned.

Dipper taps his foot on the loose earth beneath him, folding his arms.

Great. Now he can’t be mad at Bill. He was as good as his word.

All in all, Dipper could have made a worse deal, if he doesn’t think too hard about Bill and what he might be up to. The trade, such as it was, did end up fair.

A freedom for a freedom. That’s about as fair as a demon can be, and all for the low, low cost of. Some lip action.

For some reason, Dipper’s still really annoyed.

If he knew Bill was going to get out too, well. A heads up would have been nice. Not to mention that Bill just went and fucked off somewhere without so much as a ‘see ya’, or a ‘goodbye’, or -

But it’s good, really. That they won’t meet again. Better for both of them.

Because If they did, Dipper would have to tell him he’s a jerk, and a bastard. Bill seems like he needs that reminder every once in a while. Or every few days. Or hours.

So again, good that he’s gone; Dipper’d probably lose his voice if he had to be around him too long. Good riddance.

Dipper stands in the clearing for a while, watching the light fade as evening sets in. Alone in the forest again. Safe in reality.

After a while, it’s starting to get chilly; he wraps an arm over himself, squeezing the opposite bicep. .

It’s been a very long day.

He takes a deep breath, and slowly lets it out.

Then the soft earth shifts under his feet, and something grabs his ankle.

For the second time in a day, Dipper screams.

A sudden yank makes Dipper lose his balance, but he catches himself before he hits the ground, braced on his elbows. He swears, pulling his leg away on impulse, kicking at the tight grasp on his leg -

And stares in horror as a dirty yet well-manicured hand pulls him closer, impossibly strong. Dragging him down into the earth it burst out from. A few more urgent kicks gets the thing off him, and Dipper scrambles back.

The hand pats around for him, searching, then pushes against the ground. Bringing out an arm, then a chest, a full head that shakes off the dirt. An eye rolls around in one socket, while the other is missing or covered with dirt, and it wears a wide, rictus grin. With very sharp, very white teeth.

Dipper struggles to his knees. Sweat is breaking out on his forehead, as whole human man - thing pulls itself out of a shallow grave right in front of him. There’s no time to react; it’s up on its feet before he can gain his own. Too steady, and way too fast for the living dead.

Shit. Life magic, of course.

So It wasn’t a trick after all. It was a trap.

Dipper not only set BIll free but raised, like, a zombie, or something, to take care of the rest. It’s going to finish him off and leave no evidence but a bloody smear on the grass. He tries to leap back but it's already got him by the shirt in a tight grip, dragging him in.

Okay, no time. Last resort. DIpper hates to do this, but. He tenses up, holding his arms out and reaching for his magic. Pulling on it, hard.

The fire rages, it lights up the whole clearing as it spreads. Dipper can feel it engulf himself, spread around the clearing, and engulf his assailant -

To absolutely zero effect. Not even a sizzle, what the hell.

Dipper spends a moment to be indignant as the creature lifts him up, and up, until his feet don’t even touch the ground. What the hell. He’s always been able to explode stuff, and the one time he actually wanted to, it doesn’t work?

“Trying to heat things up, huh? Nice try, sapling, but it won’t work.” Says the man holding him, sounding delightedly amused. “As a guy once said - I’m extremely cool!”

Dipper snaps his gaze downwards, towards that voice. “That’s not what I-”

He stops. Stares.

Then glares.

A golden eye winks back at him. Some of the dirt has dried from the fire; now it flakes off in patches, revealing an eyepatch instead of an empty socket, and a suit instead of the yellow of lividity. Dipper’s idly tempted to insult his fashion, before he remembers he still can’t touch the freakin’ ground.

While the other shape didn’t have a literal smile, if you plastered it on a human face it would be a one-to-one match.

“You’re kidding me.” Dipper says. Somehow he’s not surprised.

He gets an eyebrow wiggle, and a brighter smile. The man lifts him up like a carnival prize; his suit really is tacky, Dipper should tell him that. And that his voice is so annoying, and he has a very handsome, very awful face.

Bill cackles. Clearly thrilled.

“Really? Dipper says. Then, feeling tired. “Oh, come on, Bill. That was a dick move.” He lets his arms drop to his sides.

So obvious, when you think about it. So clear, when you know what’s up.

There were so many chances to spot it, and Dipper was so dumb.

Bill Cipher, dream demon. Infamous for a lot of things, power and insanity and all of that - but mostly for wandering reality, tied to a mortal. While wearing a human shape. Obviously he has another form, being a demon and all, but it’s not like there are many depictions. Bill Cipher doesn’t stride around Earth without wearing his skin suit.

Well. Guess who just went and made him one.

Dipper should be more upset. He should be furious. But mostly?

He’s thinking about how he’ll get Bill back for this.

“What’s with the long face?” Bill Cipher asks, looking absurdly pleased with himself. A huge grin as he bounces Dipper in his grip, sharp teeth bared. “Everything went according to plan!”

“I’m an idiot,” Dipper states, before kicking Bill once. It doesn’t work, but it was mostly a gesture, anyway. “And you’re an asshole.”

“Sure am! But you’re my idiot now, sapling.” Bill says, cheerful as anything. He swings Dipper around, then over his shoulder like he weighs nothing. Throwing in a pat on the back, presumably for insult. “Good to see ya again!”

#Another advancement in my nefarious triangle makeouts agenda #It'll be short I told myself #Probably only 2k I told myself #Why do I ever listen to myself?#Have some ridiculous fic and I hope it entertains #Feels good to be writing again but I must make BETTER and MORE #Time to work on that lamb wolf thing; it was almost done before I went on a tear writing this silly thing #I'd say Dipper's somewhere between twenty two and twenty five here #Bill's been SO BORED for YEARS #Of course he took the opportunity to mess with his husband #And it worked out Beautifully

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