#this is my favorite chapter so far ;____; | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

ckret2 · 1 year

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I've been really looking forward to posting this chapter. It's got it all: angst, comedy, meaty plot progression, banter, Bill and Ford screaming at each other, Stan getting an MVP moment, Soos being Soos, and a grappling hook. And this:

It's admittedly harder to take Bill's stuck-in-a-human-body grief seriously when he's wearing a pony toga and goofy bug wing face paint.

Anyway here's chapter 5, and here's one, two, three, and four if you missed them.

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The car had been on the road for several tense minutes before Bill announced his return to consciousness by startling upright, attempting to shout through his gag, looking around wildly, and then kicking Stan's butt through the back of the front bench.

"Hey. Hey! Easy!" Stan turned around to swat at Bill. Bill responded by headbutting his hand.

Trying to ignore Bill and keep his eyes on the road, Ford said, "Soos?"

"You got it." Soos leaned to the right, gently pinning Bill against the door.

Bill grunted, squirmed mightily against his fate, kicked the front bench a couple more times for good measure, and then started rubbing his face against the car door handle.

"Give it a rest," Stan said. "There's no way you're jumping out of a moving car. You're completely tied up and you've got a seatbelt on."

"Safety first," Soos said.

"Plus, the handle on that door sticks."

Bill gave them both a murderous glare, shot another at Ford just because, and resumed rubbing his face on the door handle.

It took a couple minutes for him to use the handle to peel the duct tape off his mouth. He spat half a wet sock at the back of Stan's head. "Where are we—Hey! Hey! Look at me! Where are we going?!"

Gaze never wavering from the road, Ford said, "You don't need to know."

"All that matters is you're not coming back," Stan said. "You're gonna be staying with some old friends of mine until we figure out how to deal with you. Real professionals. Not even you could find a way out of this."

"There's nobody to manipulate when nobody is listening to you," Ford said.

Soos, ever helpful, threw in, "Stan hasn't really told us much about these dudes? But I've been getting some 'prisoner pit in a serial killer's basement' vibes off of how he's talking about it."

The rage quickly drained from Bill's face, leaving behind a stricken look. "It's not that golf cart chop shop, is it?"

"What?! How did you kn—" Stan whipped around to gape at Bill, then stared at Ford. "How did he—?!"

"He has eyes everywhere," Ford said resignedly. "I'm sure once he got his claws into me, he started looking into my family's lives."

Soos considered this, nudged Bill, and said, "Hey. What kinda creepy stuff do you know about me?"

Bill didn't answer. He was staring blankly at the back of the front bench. Voice oddly flat, he said, "So. You leave me with a bunch of professional criminals. What's your plan then, smart guy."

"I don't know yet," Ford said. "And that's exactly why we're leaving you with people who can keep you contained—and keep your puppet alive, whether you like it or not. All they need to do is buy us time until we find a way to extract you from your puppet and destroy you for good."

"And what if you can't 'extract' me."

The car was silent for a moment. Finally, Ford said, "Then whatever poor woman you've taken over has already lost her life. Destroying you and her body would be a mercy killing." Stan nodded once, sharply.

Bill slumped back in his seat. He stared out the window at the dark trees passing by.

The car's headlights swept over a sign reading "Now leaving Gravity Falls."

Bill choked on his breath. His gaze whipped forward, staring out the windshield, eyes wide—and they got wider. "Whoa-whoa-whoa wait wait stop STOP STOP! WATCH OUT!"

Ford slammed the breaks.

"What'd we hit?" Stan leaned over the dash, squinting into the dark. "After you insisted you're a better driver than me—"

"I didn't hit anything—there's nothing in the road—"

Hysterically, Bill demanded, "Are you trying to kill me?!"

Which was such a fantastically stupid question that the whole car turned to stare at him. He was wheezing on the verge of hyperventilation, pressed as far back into the car seat as he could get, feet raised and braced against the back of the front bench, face contorted in fear.

Trying to sound irritated to avoid sounding rattled, Ford said, "What the devil is it?"

"Are you crazy?" Bill snapped. "You almost drove straight through the bubble!"

Soos and the Pines all looked forward. There was nothing but the dark road beyond their car. Ford gave Bill a wary look. "The what?"

"The—the bubble! The weirdness bubble! The barrier around this stupid town! You c—you can't see it, can you." Bill jutted his chin forward, gesturing out the windshield. "Well whether you see it or not, it's right there!"

Stan shrugged. "So?"

"SO?!" Bill's voice cracked. "So whaddaya think happens to me if I hit a weirdness barrier in a moving car?!"

Stan considered that a moment. "I dunno... That sounds more like your problem than our problem."

"Hey, it's your upholstery, buddy! But if YOU wanna see what happens when you hit a deer and it teleports inside the car—"

Stan snuck a foot over to the driver's side footwell and pressed the gas, making the engine rev. Bill flinched and yipped like a threatened chihuahua. Stan laughed.

Ford was staring hard at Bill. "The weirdness barrier shouldn't affect you from within the mindscape. And even if it did, it wouldn't affect the body you're inside. It would only affect you if... you have physical form?" He scrutinized Bill's face—not his eyes, but everything else, taking in his facial features, looking for something familiar. "You're... not possessing someone, are you?"

Bill's breath hitched.

Stan looked between the two of them. "You mean that's just him? He's a regular human now?" He gestured dismissively at Bill. "Why shouldn't we just hit the barrier, then. Take care of you now. I oughta get the ol' Diablo reupholstered, anyway."

"Oh! Oh! So that's how you want to play!" Bill let out a shrill, harsh laugh. "Fine, be like that! Do it—if you're sooo sure it won't just set me free! Do you like the sound of that? Wanna find out whether blowing up this flesh prison will kill me or unleash me?" He leaned into Stan's face, baring his teeth, smiling viciously. "Go on, tough guy—think you can get me with another lucky sucker punch?"

Stan scowled—but instead of rising to the bait, he gave Bill a hard, considering look. "What's your game?"

"Ha! I'm playing games an idiot like you couldn't even imagine—"

On Stan's behalf, Ford tapped the gas, nudging the car forward a few inches.

Bill shrieked. "What's wrong with you, you maniac?!" Over Stan's guffaws and Ford's chuckle, Bill snapped, "I've had it!" The rear door swung open. Bill tumbled out onto the road.

"Hey!" Soos scrambled after him, but by the time he was out of his seatbelt, Bill was on his feet and running.

He was running very badly. He'd somehow managed to free his wrists and ankles—his ankles were raw and bloody and his handcuffs, still locked, lay innocently in the back seat—but his elbows were still chained to his sides and his knees were tied together. Stan jumped out of the car, saw Bill trip and sprawl on the asphalt less than twenty feet away, and laughed so hard he needed to lean on the car for balance.

Ford caught up just after Soos tackled Bill. "Well! There. Here you are." Ford's fists were trembling. "You couldn't have thought you'd escape, Bill. What was the point of that—that ridiculous demonstration!"

Bill's cheek was pressed to the ground hard enough that he had to squeeze one eye shut; but it didn't stop him from giving Ford a smarmy, smug smirk. "To be annoying," he said. "For you. Personally and individually."

"Fffp— For me?! Why? To what end, Bill?!" Ford knew Bill just wanted to see him angry. And it worked. "Of all the places in the world you could have gone, why are you back here! What could you possibly get out of harassing us again! After all you've done to us already!"

"What." The change on Bill's face was instantaneous. "After... what I... have done to you? WHAT I'VE DONE TO YOU?!"

He was screaming so violently that his body shook with it, threatening to throw Soos off. "I HAVEN'T DONE ANYTHING TO ANY OF YOU! Look at you all, you hale and hearty little animals, with all your dwindling decades left to you—what about ME?!"

He jammed a fist in Soos's gut to knock him off and lunged for Ford, clawing at his ankle and coat hem like a zombie reaching from the grave. Ford tried to stumble back, but tripped over Bill's hand and fell hard on the asphalt. Bill wrenched an arm free from the chains around his chest with a wretched bony CRACK, and crawled on top of Ford. "I was perfect! I was a new god! I'm the most sublime thing your universe has ever seen! What am I now?!" Bill's bound knees dug into Ford's abdomen, his clawed fingers reached for his face. "MEAT! I'm MEAT, Stanford! My body is rotting off its bones as we SPEAK, in a few years I'll be dust! AND YOU WANT TO TALK ABOUT WHAT I 'TOOK' FROM YOU?!"

His fingers closed around Ford's throat. "What did you lose! TELL ME what you lost! I gave you EVERYTHING you ever wanted—knowledge, magic, secrets, INFINITE worlds to explore! I offered you more! I offered you immortality! Divinity! So WHAT! DID! YOU! LOSE!" He punctuated each word with a furious shake. He was frothing with rage, choking on his rage, so furious he was nearly sobbing. "And do you REALLY THINK it comes CLOSE to the eternity you STOLE FROM ME?! You KILLED me today, Stanford! I DIED TODAY—"

A grappling hook whistled past Bill's face, nearly hitting his nose, smashing into the bark of a tree. Bill froze, eyes wide, the taut wire inches in front of his mouth, staring down at Ford. And then he let go. He didn't resist when Stan dragged him off, or when Stan and Soos wrapped their arms around him in case he lunged for Ford again. His knees briefly buckled before he got his feet under him again.

Ford stared up at Bill, rubbing his throat.

He'd never seen Bill angry like that before. He'd seen Bill angry enough to kill, and it had never come close to that. Bill's anger was always the petty tantrum of an entitled child who had been denied something he thought he deserved.

This was the anger that came from grief. Bill was grieving himself.

"This... really is you, isn't it?"

Bill's jaw tightened.

"Great Uncle Ford!" Dipper dropped to a knee beside Ford, grabbing his shoulder. "Are you okay?!"

"I'm fine, Dip—Dipper?" Ford stared at him, and turned to look at Mabel and the two bikes further up the road. "What are you two doing out here?"

"Following to make sure Bill doesn't try anything?" Dipper said. "Like he just did?"

Stan said, "Whoa, kids, it's way too dangerous f—aw, forget it. Just how the heck did you find us?" (He'd handed Bill over to Soos, learning nothing from the lessons of the last few minutes; but Bill didn't make another move to escape. He leaned into Soos for physical support, shoulders slumped, his whole face sagging with exhaustion.)

Dipper said, "We figured you wouldn't let us come, so Mabel bugged the car after dinner."

"She what?"

"I poked a hole in a bag of glitter and taped it under your bumper!" Mabel pointed at the sparkly red trail leading along the road to the car. She was trying to pull her grappling hook out of the tree it had smashed. "Hey, Grunkle Ford! We saved your life twice in one day! I think you owe us a pizza or something."

Dipper nodded seriously. "Definitely."

Ford rubbed his neck. "I don't think he was even trying to kill me. He was just..." Ford trailed off, staring after Bill. Out of that mad monologue of historical revisionism, the part that echoed in Ford's head was the last words. I died today. It was still that fresh to Bill?

Mabel frowned. "Aw, c'mon, Grunkle Ford. Lemme have this."

He dragged his gaze from Bill and laughed, ruffling her hair. "All right, all right. I owe you two a pizza."

"Yes!"

"No wonder you slipped these off," Soos muttered, holding the handcuffs in one hand and one of Bill's hands in the other. "You have delicate little baby hands. I bet it's really easy for you to get things out of jars."

"Sure." Bill sighed listlessly. "But it makes playing the piano a pain."

Soos more tightly handcuffed Bill's delicate little baby hands in his lap, considered how best to keep him from running off again, and finally wrapped an arm around Bill's shoulders. "There. Buddy system!"

Bill endured this indignity with the vacant-eyed stoicism of a shell shocked soldier.

"So, what's going on?" Dipper asked, looking at the stopped car.

"We're at the edge of the weirdness barrier around Gravity Falls," Ford said. "And Bill can't cross it. And, obviously, him slamming into it would be like driving into a wall. It would be fatal."

"To just Bill? Or the tourist, too?"

"There is no tourist. That's—him."

"Yeah," Stan said. "So he claims, anyway. I'm not sure I believe that."

Mabel gasped and grabbed Dipper's arm. "I knew it! Grunkle Ford, Grunkle Stan—I think he's telling the truth! When Bill possessed Dipper, he was all cold and gross like a dead body. But this time he's normal!"

Stan screwed up his face, tilting his head. "I dunno. Something's still fishy. He's holding something back, I'm sure of it. Sixer, you've had more practice figuring him out than anyone else, what do you think?"

Ford sighed. "Unfortunately, he's also had more experience manipulating me than anyone else. But, all the same, I... I've never seen him so..." He meant to say furious. Instead, he said, "hurt."

Ford wondered if there really was something to Bill's anger that he had never seen before—or if it was just easier for Ford to see it now that it was on a human face. If there were other nuances he'd missed over the years.

Glancing toward the car, Ford didn't see any anger on Bill's face now. It was completely blank—not emotionally neutral, but empty, like he was too exhausted to feel. "Bill's a good liar, but I've never known him to be a good actor. I think that... outburst was sincere."

Mabel said, "I've seen him impersonating Soos, Dipper, and Blanchin Blandin, and—he's convincing when he's doing normal stuff, but I've never seen him try to fake having emotions."

Dipper said, "Yeah, he's not really big on emoting. Pretty much the only expression he knows how to make on purpose is the world's creepiest smile."

"Okay," Stan said, "so he's probably telling the truth about being stuck in a human body and being mad about it. What about that thing he said about setting him loose again if we kill his body."

(Dipper and Mabel exchanged a look. Dipper mouthed Trojan horse, and Mabel nodded.)

"Because here's the thing," Stan said. "Say that's a lie, and killing him will just kill him. If he's half the liar you say he is, he woulda been trying to convince us from the start that his life is the only thing standing between us and the apocalypse. So why'd he only pull this out at the last minute, when it sounds like a stupid excuse?"

"He didn't need to tell us before," Ford said. "We thought he was possessing a tourist, we didn't want to hurt her."

"Ending the world's a lot scarier than killing one tourist! Why bother with the 'tourist puppet' schtick and then escalate? Maybe he's just not as good a con artist as you say, but—just—!" Stan flung his hands up. "Something about this isn't adding up!"

Ford said, "So you think it's a double bluff? He told us killing him would restart Weirdmageddon so we'll think it's a lie, kill him, and actually restart it?"

Stan paused. "No," he said. "No, that's not it, either. If it was, he coulda just let us drive into that invisible barrier without saying anything."

"Then what? What's he actually trying to make us think?"

Stan stared at Bill, still turning over their conversation in the car, trying to put his finger on what had seemed wrong about it.

Wanna find out whether blowing up this flesh prison will kill me or unleash me?

He could see Bill's face yesterday, on the ground at Stan's feet, barrel of a laser gun aimed at his forehead, looking past it to stare straight into Stan's eyes. Go ahead, Stanley, let's find out what'll happen. He could have claimed then that killing him would end the world—or he could have forced Stan to shoot—but that was all he'd said. Let's find out.

Slowly, Stan said, "He's not trying to make us think anything. He's banking on us being too scared to gamble on what'll happen if he dies. Because he's too scared to gamble." Stan turned to stare at Bill. "You! You don't know if you can come back from this."

Bill blinked and focused on the Pines, glare darting between them.

"Do you?" Stan crossed his arms.

Bill's face twitched, and his defiance collapsed: "No! I don't know! I didn't get an instruction manual with this stupid body—I don't know if I'm free to go after I serve my sentence or if this is death row!" He forced a furious smile. "But if I don't know what's going to happen, then neither do you! Nobody does! So do you want to find out the hard way?!"

Bill looked from face to face; their silence was answer enough. No. They did not want to find out the hard way. He laughed loudly, reveling in his one tiny triumph.

"All right," Stan barked, "I've had enough of your crap." He cracked his knuckles, marched up to Bill, and socked his jaw.

Bill immediately shut up.

The other humans politely clapped.

####

If they couldn't take Bill out of the bubble, then for now, there was only one place to take him: back to the shack. Stan borrowed a phone to step off the road and have a quick, hushed conversation with his contacts about the change in plans, while Ford helped Dipper and Mabel attach their bikes to the roof of the car.

When Stan returned, Ford said, "We're running out of seats." What he really meant was they were out of seats that would keep the kids away from Bill.

"Just stick me in the trunk!" Bill—leaning against the car boredly while the humans rearranged his incarceration plans—had regained some of his usual pep now that one small thing had gone right for him. He had, somehow, got his hands on the bat Soos had stowed in the back seat, and had been holding it like a cane, unnoticed until he used it to gesture toward the trunk. "I'm a prisoner! Humans put prisoners in the trunk, right?"

Stan snorted. "What, and let you kick out the taillights and escape? I don't think so. And who let you have a weapon!" He snatched the bat from Bill and tossed it in the trunk instead. "Kids, you sit on the front bench." Stan and Soos slid into the back with Bill jammed in the middle.

The drive was very, very quiet.

The only noise was the quiet squeak as Bill took up steadily kicking Ford's side of the front bench. Ford's grip on the steering wheel tightened, and he said nothing.

Stan kicked Bill's ankle. Bill kicked Stan. Soos leaned against the window in a futile attempt to escape them, and sighed.

And then the car was silent again.

"Say!" Bill said, loud enough the other passengers started. "What is it, about three? That's morning! Who wants to go get breakfast?"

"No," Stan and Ford said.

"Aw, come on! I think we're near that truck stop where Sixer had a psychotic episode!" Bill kicked the front bench more enthusiastically. "I thought you guys decided to keep me alive! You'll have a hard time doing that if you let me starve to death."

Ford said, "You're not going to starve to death between now and when we get home."

Soos blinked. "Hey, he slept through dinner, didn't he? Dude. How long has it been since you last ate?"

"Do socks count?"

Dipper and Mabel cast a suspicious glance at the damp half sock lying in the front footwell.

Soos shook his head. "Uh-uh."

"Then depending on which way of measuring nonlinear chronology you want to go by, it's either been a week, a year, or a millennium."

Soos furrowed his brow. Stan sighed impatiently and said, "Okay, wise guy, how long does your body think it's been since you last fed it."

"I've never fed it."

The humans stared in shock. Even Ford spared a glance in the rearview mirror.

"Ohhh right, I'm supposed to be doing that. That explains the ceaseless abdominal pain! And the vertigo when I stand up! And the mood swings!" Bill laughed, "Hey, Fordsy! Turns out I was just hungry!"

"I'll stop for breakfast if you never call me that again."

"Deal!"

Ford took a turn toward the Triple Digit Truck Stop.

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#bill cipher #human bill cipher #grunkle ford #(there are more characters in the chapter but I'm just tagging the two who made it into the art lmao)#gravity falls #gravity falls fic #gravity falls fanart #fanart #my art #my writing #bill goldilocks cipher #(this is My Favorite Chapter So Far so if you have thoughts about it i'd SUPER appreciate hearing them. ty all.)

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