Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“Oh, Stanford, this was really the best you could do with that big brain of your’s?” Bill turned to Stanford, the real Stanford.

Ford’s blood ran cold. Bill had figured them out.

Stan, still in Ford’s clothes, put himself between Bill and his brother, “Stay away from h-“ but Bill backhanded Stan aside into the wall of the cell. The men could hear Mabel shriek in the distance. “Grunkle Ford!”

“Oh ho ho, but that’s where you’re wrong, Shooting Star!” Bill quipped, as he flicked Stan’s fez from off of Ford’s head, revealing Ford’s wavy locks. “Our boys here tried the old classic switcheroo!” Mabel and Dipper gasped from outside the cell.

“You were gonna let your inferior copy take the fall, Ford? Someone give this guy a ”Brother of the Year” Award! But hey, at least then we could say Fez was useful for something, am I right?” Bill chuckled.

Stan was slumped against the wall of their triangular cage, reeling from Bill’s dizzying blow to the head. Stan held his head, wincing, “Ford didn’t put me up to anything. It was my idea, ya three-sided prick.” Ford ran to help his brother, until Bill grabbed Ford and dragged him back. He wrapped his elongated arms around Ford’s chest like a boa constrictor, holding him close enough that Bill’s eye took up Ford’s entire vision. “No more games, Stanford Pines. If you don’t want me to destroy everything you love, starting with Mr. Martyr and your brats, you’ll give me that equation.” Another arm grew from Bill’s back, its finger starting to spark electricity in Stan’s direction. “Right here, right now!”

Ford’s eyes darted from Stan, to Bill, to the children, then back to Bill. “…Th-the equation?”

“Don’t play dumb with me, IQ! Yes, the equation.”

Ford gulped. “You like deals. I’ll give you the equation. I’ll give you enough access to my mind to get that equation, but nothing else! And only if — ”

Bill snorted, “You’re hardly in a position to be calling the shots here, hot shot. Your brother’s about 6 six seconds from becoming a black stain on the floor!”

“I’m serious, Cipher! If you want out of this town’s barrier, this is the only way you’ll get an equation out of me.”

Bill looked down on Ford unimpressed, but did not interrupt.

“I’ll give you access to my mind to reach the equation and nothing else. And I will only, only make this deal if you or your lot cannot hurt my family!”

Bill snickered. “Pfft! I’ll just kill them now if you don’t give me the eq—!“

“If you destroy my family now, I’ll have nothing left for you to use as leverage to get that equation. I’ll keep it to myself forever.”

Bill’s amused demeanor soured. “You’re bluffing…” He glared between Stan and the children, clearly unenthused about the idea of letting the Pines family live another day.

“So do you want an equation or not, Cipher?” Ford extended his hand from in between his binds in Bill’s spindly limbs.

“Grunkle Ford, no! He’ll take over the whole world!” Dipper cried out.

Bill released the man and cracked his knuckles. “The entire dimension for the safety of your 3 pathetic humans? …Deal. Now put ‘er there, old pal…” Bill’s glowing hand grasped Ford’s in a handshake.

“You can’t—!” Dipper cried out, but his scream quickly dissipated to silence as the world flashed to white.

Bill found himself in a familiar setting; a grayscale Mystery Shack from the early 80s. A high pitched ringing played continuously across the mindscape. “Finally, *finally*!” Bill entered the house, ignoring the disarray and hovel it was in. Giddy, he sprang down the hallway. Bill looked along the walls of the hallway, noting that all the doors were locked tight, save for the one open door at the end of the hall. The room with the equation.

“After this, it’ll just be you and me, Fordsy!” Bill shouted triumphantly into the ether. “You’ll come around! Once we burn that first planet to its core, you’ll ask me why you were ever against this in the first place!”

And with that Bill swaggered into the room.

Ford’s back was turned to Bill as he finished writing on the chalkboard on the far wall, and turned around to present it.

“Now let’s see this equation, shall we?“ Bill pushed Ford out of the way, rubbing his hands together eagerly. Bill briefly poured over the chalky handwriting in overflowing excitement:

…The Pythagorean Theorem. Bill blinked stupidly, then turned to Ford.

Ford was smiling widely. “You never did specify which equation you needed! I thought this one appropriate, considering who the reader would be! A throwback to grade school, if you will—" Ford’s airway was cut off by being lifted by his throat.

“I’LL KILL YOU!” The demon bellowed as he morphed into an eldritch monstrosity. The fleshy mass beneath his shiny walls writhing, the space around his eyelids growing layers of blade-like teeth. Their surroundings began to ebb and shake as Ford was choked.

“Not... Not in my mindscape you won't!” Ford croaked out.

Bill heaved in rage as his grip tightened on Ford’s throat. Ford hacked and sputtered. Maybe Bill was going to kill the man in his own mindscape, Ford considered. Would the demon die with him if he ended Ford’s brain activity they were both inhabiting? If Ford could go down taking Bill with him, it would be worth it, but also somehow poetic.

As Ford began to feel the edges of his vision going black, he believed Bill would see his claim through. Right as Ford felt consciousness slipping, the choking stopped and Ford felt himself drop back into reality on the cage floor. He heard Stan’s muffled voice call out his name. Bill must have pulled Ford out of the mindscape with him. When Ford jumped up, still unsteady, he was surprised to find Bill had returned to his small, sarcastic self.

“Welp, Fordsy,” Bill jabbed an elbow at the man’s arm, “you got lucky this once! I’m able to admit when I’ve been had!”

Bill dissolved the triangular cage surrounding Ford and Stan, and Stan dashed to sweep up Dipper and Mabel protectively.

“I can’t hurt the family, huh?” Bill mused pensively as he glared in their direction. Bill turned his attention back to Ford, Ford flinching as Bill rustled the man’s hair in faux-affection. “You’re clever, that’s why I like you so much! Haha!” Bill delivered a forced laugh, still simmering under the surface. Then with Bill's snap, Stan, Mabel, and Dipper were warped away. Ford gasped and stepped towards where his family had stood, but Bill pushed him off his feet and caught Ford by the waist in a dip. “I must admit, I was sloppy this time around. Haven’t been myself lately. But I’ll get the correct equation one way or another!” Bill gave Ford a heavy-lidded look. “You know how I love a little ‘will-they-won’t-they-destroy-the-world’ in a galactic takeover!”

It was unclear why the Fearamid needed an engine—let alone an engine room— to fly. Weirdness didn’t usually abide by your typical propulsion physics. Regardless, the engine room accounted for the bottom floor of the Fearamid; dimly lit, with the sound of pistons swiveling and moaning in a low hum. It also featured a long railed walkway crossing above the pistons turning below, leading to a small metal dungeon. There Stan, Dipper, and Mabel sat in a prison cell, while Bill was preparing the three’s “permanent accommodations.” The three were left alone for a few days to wonder whatever that could mean.

Inside the dark cell, Stan scanned the bars and walls for any cracks or weak points. Dipper, whose anxiety was only exacerbated by the constant low whirring of the machinations below, paced aimlessly in a nervous trance. Mabel had sat in the corner of the cell, uncharacteristically quiet and chipping at her magenta nail polish. Mabel turned her attention to her brother with a gentle smile: “Hey Dipper, lighten up!”

Hearing his name, Dipper turned his head robotically to his sister. Mabel giggled weakly, “At least the ol’ band’s back together! Heh, remember? Love Patrol Alpha, with all our zombie groupies! I bet we could write a new hit single while Grunkle Stan’s figuring out our escape plan!” Mabel started humming random notes, searching for a melody. “C’mon Dipp, give me a hot beat —“

“Mabel! This is not the time for a ‘hot beat’!” Dipper ranted, exasperated. “W-We’re going to be prisoners of Bill’s forever if we don’t find a way out soon! Grunkle Ford’s been taken! The only reason we’re even alive right now is because of Bill’s botched deal!!”

“Dipper!” Stan called out without shifting his focus from the cell bars, “Don’t upset your sister.” Dipper looked away from Stan and back at Mabel, the usually optimistic girl looking dejectedly towards the floor.

Dipper stepped towards her tentatively. “Aw, sheesh. I didn’t mean it like that, Mabel. I’m sorry, I just— they just — we—“ but he couldn’t find the words.

“She’s right, kid. Lighten up!” Stan said still facing the bars. “Your Grunkle Stan over here is a bonafide professional when it comes to busting out of prison cells. I’ve got it aaalll under control. I’m just gonna need a little time to review my craft, ya get me?”

Mabel gleamed at Stan, back to her usual self. “Yeah, Dipper, we’ve got the coolest Grunkles in the world! Between the two of them, we’ve got nothing to worry about!”

Stan nodded over his shoulder to her with a wink and a smile, “That’s right, pumpkin! And don’t you two forget it!”

Dipper exhaled, “Huh, yeah, I guess you’re both right. Heh…” Dipper planted himself next to his sister, hope cautiously renewed.

In all honesty, Stan was relieved he could work with his back facing the kids. He’d been in some rough situations, sure, but even he had to admit to himself that things were looking bad. Really bad. He had dealt with convicts, the mafia, hitmen, hell, pterodactyls at this point… but a dream demon warping reality into a realm of actualized nightmares? How do you even begin with that? That’ll take a little more than his left-right hook. The only upside of the whole situation was that Bill’s deal meant that the kids, himself, and Stanford were safe, at least for now.

Stanford. Stan dragged a hand down his face. Where is that damn guy?! This sci-fi mumbo-jumbo was his area of expertise. Leave it to Ford to not be here right when his family needed him most! And what’s going on between him and that demon anyway? Stupid, stupid Ford …God, Stan was worried sick about him.

His thoughts were interrupted when the locked door to the engine room opened, and a vaguely familiar monster lumbered across the walkway to their cell. An ugly thing with polished eight balls for eyes— what was his name again? 8-Ball? The goblin towered above Stan outside the bars, and sneered at the humans in disgust.

“You, the old one,” 8-Ball pointed at Stan disinterestedly. “Boss wants to talk to you.” Dipper and Mabel bolted from their spots on the floor to cling to Stan’s legs.

“You can tell that nacho that he’ll have to go through me if he wants to take my Grunkle away!“ Mabel cried. (“Yeah!” Dipper added, helpfully.)

“Mabel! Dipper! Quiet down now.” Stan said, lightly pushing the kids’ grips off his thighs and turned to the monster. “What’s that Dorito want from me, eh?”

8-Ball opened the cell doors, clearly not concerned with any of them as a threat. 8-Ball groaned, pounding his fist into his other claw in frustration, “Doesn’t matter. Boss wants to see you. If I can’t hurt you to get you to come, I’ll drag you to him.”

Stan exhaled. He definitely couldn’t let the kiddos see a scene like that. Stan stretched nonchalantly. “Nah, you’ve got me curious now. I’m not afraid of Bill. The kids will still be here when I come back?” 8-Ball nodded flippantly. Stan smirked, “Ok, lead the way.”

To the childrens’ protests, Stan responded, “I’ll be back, don’t do anything I wouldn’t-,” Stan paused, “On second thought, just don’t do anything.” Stan gave a quick wave to the disconcerted kids and proceeded off with 8-Ball.

Stan was led down the narrow metal walkway to a small elevator. Him and Bill’s lackey got closer than he would’ve liked crowded together in it, as he watched the floor indicator go up one-by-one. So this Fearamid had 5 levels, huh? Good to know. 8-Ball mumbled to himself, “Oh good, Keyhole figured out how to cut off the elevator music.” Stan quirked an eyebrow at 8-Ball. “Don’t tell Boss I don’t like his taste in music…” the monster sulked.

The indicator light stopped at Floor 4 and the doors opened. The area was ornately decorated in a polished onyx stone that covered the floors and walls, with stained glass windows adorning the walls every few meters. The colorful windows added a strange red, green, and purple shine to the floor. A red rug runner led Stan and his guard through a series of rooms. One room they passed Stan recognized as the throne room. His jaw dropped open when he saw that little snot Gideon hanging from a birdcage, tapping around exhausted. The brat deserved a knuckle sandwich for his meddling in the occult, but this… this was just messed up. He had to proceed with 8-Ball, and they then passed by a small study. Black modern bookcases lined the walls, lined with books on astrophysics, quantum entanglement… One that looked like a romantic novel titled ‘The Love Triangle’ by Tabitha Lustheart… On one shelf, Stan recognized the grappling hook.

8-Ball saw Stan’s interest in the grappling hook. “What is that thing used for by you humans? You shoot it and it just shoots a line on and on forever…”

‘On and on forever’? Stan wondered. He means it won’t run out of line? It’s definitely not supposed to do that. Maybe it had been weird-ed up by Weirdmageddon like other objects had been.

“Like I’d tell you.” Stan scoffed. 8-Ball shoved him down the hall.

Stan and his guard had reached a dead end, with nothing noteworthy about the empty room.

Stan turned to 8-Ball. “Hey CueBall, there’s nothing here! Your head take one too many jabs from a cue stick?” Stan gestured a cue hitting his head. 8-Ball growled and pointed up.

Upside down on the ceiling, a chess set sat on a center table, defying gravity. Dizzyingly, sitting across from the board expectantly was none other than an upside down Bill Cipher. “Oh.” Stan uttered, befuddled. It was better for his sanity not to question things too much.

Bill leaned forward in his chair on the ceiling, feigning a joy that never reached his eye. “Fez! Welcome! Always happy to see an old friend!”

“‘Old friend?’ Stan looked up at him and crossed his arms. “I hardly even knew you existed before now, and you’re not my friend.”

Bill waved 8-Ball to exit the room, leaving the two alone, on opposite verticals of the room.

“I suppose that’s true, but I’ve just heard so much about you I feel like I know you! Mainly concerning how much of a screw up you are, courtesy of Stanford! And let me tell you, it’s pretty funny to hear all the ways you’ve failed your family! This last time really taking the cake, pal! Haha!”

Stan bristled. “Why don’t you come down here and say that to my face? And I ain’t your ‘pal,’ buddy,.”

Bill squinted, amused at Stan’s reaction. “And I ain’t your buddy, guy!”

“I ain’t your guy, chum.”

“And I ain’t your chum, friend-o!”

With that, Bill snapped his fingers, reversing gravity itself, and Stan tumbled down to the ceiling, which to him now had to be considered the new floor. Stan landed beside the chessboard, sideways on the empty chair opposite of Bill. His fez tumbled off in the shuffle.

“Nevermind all that though! See, we don’t have to be friends. I was simply hoping you could help me with something!”

Stan scoffed. “Listen here, I’m not gonna help you with anything!” Stan laid back into his chair with a cocky swagger, “I know you can’t hurt my family since you made that deal, so we’ve got no reason to talk unless it’s about you letting us all out of this circus of a ship you’re flyin’.”

Bill’s affable demeanor was unphased. “If this ship is a circus, I think you’ll make a great clown! It’d take no effort on your part to just continue living your joke of a life! Haha!”

Stan rolled his eyes, “You’re not gonna get any success out of throwing digs at me… I don’t have that fragile ego and need for approval like Stanford.”

Bill’s eyes stared emptily at Stan. “Oh but I think you do! You’re just better at hiding it! Tell me, Fez, do you not feel like your life’s a joke?”

“…No.”

Bill lifted a black pawn from his pieces on the board and placed it on the board 2 squares out. “Hm. How’s about a rousing game of chess while we talk?”

“No.”

Bill blinked at Stan for a moment, stifling something down at the notion of being told ‘no’. Bill quickly snapped back pleasantly, “Straight to the point, I like it!”

”All I need you for is a little… insight.”

Stan looked down his nose at Bill, making a show of his newly implied upper hand. “Pfft, you want advice from me? Not so all-powerful right now are w—“

But he sat up straight when his mouth disappeared off his face with a “mmph!?”

“As I was saying,” Bill enunciated, as he reached over to Stan’s side of the chess board to snatch Stan’s white queen, “I need to figure out how to make your brother tell me the equation to get me and my gang out of this one-horse town. I’ve been trying to get that answer from him, and wouldn’t you know it, no dice!” Bill dangled Stan’s queen between 2 fingers. “And so I thought to myself, ‘You know who might have a good idea or two? His beloved twin brother!’” Stan’s eyebrow raised at that statement.

“So!” Bill continued, “I’m all metaphorical ears, how do I get Sixer to tell me the equation? A weakness? A childhood trauma? A personal phobia to exploit? I know a lot about how his mind works from being in it, but all the things I’ve tried from memory haven’t loosened his lips. What then, Fez, would make. him. crack?” Bill then took a bite off the top half of the queen piece. With a snap, Stan’s mouth was suddenly back on his face.

Any air of Stan taking this conversation seriously dissipated quickly with a sputtering laugh, “‘Beloved’ brother? Boy, are you off mark! If you haven’t noticed, the guy hates my guts!”

“Even better! You have no need for loyalty to him then! Why not make use of yourself and get Ford to give me the equation!” Bill floated up in his chair, and lifted his arms to the sky to project the image of Stan emerging from a galaxy, laughing sinisterly. “A master manipulator! The Cane to his Abel! The wheel of this universe’s destiny steered by the hands of one Fez Pines! What a legacy!”

“…If this is your best plan, you might as well pack it up and head home now.”

Bill lowered himself to the chair. “I am home now.” Bill corrected him flippantly. The demon grabbed his black king with his other hand, regarding the black king and the white queen together in his hands.

Stanley scoffed. “And so is Ford, and he’ll figure out how to stop you before—” Bill slammed the chess pieces down with a loud thump, causing other pieces to teeter.

Bill shook his top half like one would shaking their head. Bill’s voice dropped lower, dripping with fake pity. “Oh, Stanley. Simple, simple Stanley…” Bill’s phony pleasantries were now replaced by a sinister kind of giddiness. Bill giggled lowly as he leaned in to watch Stan closer as he spoke slowly.

“I’m torturing him, Stanley.”

Stan’s mouth parted, his voice caught in his throat for a moment. Then as quickly as the moment happened, it passed.

“Psh! That’s a lie! The deal! You can’t hurt our family—“ Stan pointed accusingly.

“Wrong again, slick! I can’t hurt you or the brats. You got a goldfish memory or something? Smart guy’s so smart he didn’t think to mention himself in the deal.”

Stan planted his feet in the chair and doubled down, “He said ‘my family’ in the deal! That included himself!”

Bill doubled down right back. “And I said ‘the equation’, that implied the correct one. — but clearly no one was elbow deep in semantics before we shook hands. In his mind, Ford wasn’t even thinking of himself when he was making the deal anyway.” Bill pulled at his lower lid in frustration recalling the event. “Believe you me, I had front row tickets to those thoughts in his head!”

Stan’s voice clicked in his throat. His eyes darted around the room in panicked thought until he pinched his nose bridge in defeat.

How could Ford have been so stupid! Ford may have been under pressure and making it up on the fly, but Ford was smart! Ford was better than to not consider all consequences of an action. He forgot to mention himself! Or did he withhold himself from the deal to make sure Bill agreed to it? Ugh! How could he not have mentioned himself?!

Bill continued. “But really, smart guy knew what he was doing. He knew I’d never accept being unable to lay hands on my favorite subject.”

There was a tense pause between the two.

“Let me see him.” Stan asserted.

Bill popped back to his chipper act. “Not yet, Fez. Why don’t you just throw me a bone or two on how I should get him to cooperate, and when he talks I’ll stop hurting him? Better yet, just reason with him yourself! I figure you’re the second most important character in his life, second to me of course. Really pull on his heart strings! Tell him how much he means to you as you convince him he needs to talk! Though I call ‘dibs on drinking any tears he cries! Ahaha!”

“I’m not going to turn on my brother like that! If it’s not clear enough to you, it’s me and my brother versus you— no gray area there.”

“Is it, now? I thought he hated you, like you said. There’s always gray areas, Fez.” Bill picked up the headless white queen piece again. “You ruined his life trajectory as a young man, which brought him to Gravity Falls and into my clutches in the first place. Isn’t it fair to say that in a way this is all your fault?”

Stan stood up from his chair, pounding both fists on the table. The other chess pieces collapsed on their sides, some rolling off the table. “Why you son of a—“

Bill twirled the queen in his hand unimpressed while Stan let fly a string of expletives. Bill watched Stan’s mouth move for a few seconds as he thought about what large woodland earth creature he should have for dinner: maybe a multi-bear? Finally, Bill engaged again and continued, “I have other ways of making you cooperate.”

“You can’t do shit, triangle! You can’t hurt me or the kids!” Stanley took a breath, hands curling in and out of fists on the table. “And Ford can be a prick, but I know he wouldn’t want me to turn on him to keep him from getting hurt.”

“You’re making a mistake, Fez, and there’s worse things I can do than kill you and your brats.” Bill stated matter-of-factly.

“You think you’re so smart, but I’m tellin’ you, Ford will always be one step ahead. Just you wait, he probably already has the perfect plan to how to take you down. He’s just playing the long game.”

With a snap, Bill returned Stan to the correct direction of gravity, and he landed bunglingly on the floor with an awkward thump. Stan held his bruised shoulder and turned his head up to glower up at Bill.

Bill righted himself to the adjusted gravity, then looked down on Stan as if he were about to use a magnifying glass to fry a tiny ant. “Ok Stan, give me a few more days with him. Then we’ll go see your brother, yeah?”

Chapter Text

The days dragged on in their cell as the family waited for something to happen. Stan would still check the cell for any potential escape points but it was mainly for show to the kids. They couldn’t see their grunkle give up, like he would honestly like to. He’d try to keep conversation light for them, recounting their many adventures over the summer. Mabel would participate and laugh at the memories. But Dip, Stan could tell the poor boy was circling the drain. Stan reluctantly made his way over to speak one-on-one with the boy, but was interrupted by the engine room door swing open.

And it wasn’t a henchmaniac this time with their usual slop, but Bill Cipher himself. “Heya folks! Fez, I agreed to let you see Ford a while back, didn’t I?” The demon threw open the cell door and squinted smugly. “Well I think today’s the day!”

The demon led him to the elevator Stan had taken with 8-Ball earlier, and pressed the button up to the top floor of the Fearamid. Stan rolled his eyes. Of course that’s where Bill kept his brother. Princess is always kept in the tallest tower.

Amidst all the trepidation of the situation, the nightmare demon and the man stood side by side, and shared an otherwise unremarkable—if not palpably awkward— elevator ride. Floating in the air to Stan’s left, Bill stood with hands clasped behind his back and moved his feet as if to tap to the upbeat background music.

“…Sooo, how’s the kids?” Bill asked casually, more to fill the silence than anything else.

“We’re not doing this.”

The elevator continued to whir to, was that smooth jazz playing that Stan just noticed..? Bill began to snap to the beat, continuing his foot taps. Stan just stood there, eyes staring straight ahead, making a valiant effort not to side-eye the bopping dimensional usurper. Once he felt the need to fill the small room with *anything* other than his unsuccessful attempts at ignoring Bill, Stan cleared his throat and asked, “Aren’t you an all-powerful interdimensional demon? Can’t you just, I dunno, poof us to the top anyway?”

”Huh, yeah, I always forget about that.” Bill shrugged, “But I mean we’re already here, so. And this is my favorite part!” He continued his tapping to the song as a saxophone took over the melody. “As far as I’m concerned, the best two things to come from your species are genocide and the saxophone!” Stan sighed, flat-eyed. How long does it take to go 4 floors in this massive place? The improv saxophone solo blared on.

Finally, mercifully, the elevator door opened up to a parlor room. The first thing Stan noticed was how quiet it was, with no henchmen banter or townsfolk pleas echoing the halls. The color theme remained the usual blacks, yellows, reds, and purples, but the lighting here was dimmer and warmer. The decor was more eclectic and familiar than the usual sci-fi, modern stuff on the other floors. The whole floor just seemed more… cozy wasn’t the word, but it was the best Stan could come up with at the time. This must be Bill’s private floor.

Bill, still whistling the elevator tune, led Stan past the parlor area. As they walked, Stan scanned around the rooms. The place was littered with gaudy mimicries of famous statues and paintings in which Bill had inserted his likeness. The man gawked at the total absurdity of it all as he looked around left and right. Was that Bill as the Mona Lisa? Bill as the Statue of David? Eugh.

Bill made a sharp turn with Stan in toe, into what must’ve been a bedroom of sorts. The room was even dimmer than the warm lighting of the parlor, with the crackling fireplace on the far wall being the primary source of light in the room. He saw an ambiguous silhouette seated in front of it. Bill called out with a sing-songy flair, “Oh Fordsy! I have a little surprise for you!” The silhouette turned their direction.

It wasn’t until Stan’s eyes adjusted that he softly gasped. It was him! It was Ford!

Or rather, on closer inspection, an empty shell of the man. Ford’s usual air of arrogance and pretense was completely gone. He sat slouched on the floor in front of the fireplace. In the dim light it was harder to tell, but Stan could make out bruises on his face, or was that soot? Stan rubbed his eyes. Ford didn’t look like himself. He looked as though he had been on the wrong end of several simultaneous electrical fires…

What’s worse, a light blue cuff sat humiliatingly around his neck, connected to a short chain fastened to the brick of the fireplace. Revolted at the sight of his brother kept on a leash, Stan scowled and glared a hole in Bill’s back. Bill continued to whistle his tune unphased. Keeping Ford captive in this way was just business as usual for him, was it?

Stan felt a dark feeling in the pit of his stomach as he watched Bill whistle his cheery tune. It was something that the man hadn’t felt in decades. He recognized the feeling as one that carried over from his time working with the mafia: namely, the desire to bludgeon someone to within an inch of their life.

“Stanford!” Stan yelled out.

“St…Stanley?” Ford spoke hoarsely, and leaned toward the direction of his brother, but his short chain went taut.

Stan dashed past Bill. Right as Stan lifted his arms to embrace his brother, he felt the air knocked out of him and a force holding him back at the midriff. He looked down to find a large cuff, similar to the one around Ford’s neck, wrapped tightly around his waist. His eyes followed the chain to its connection at the exact opposite wall of Ford.

The two brothers were within 5 feet of each other with both their restraints fully extended, but purposefully couldn’t reach one another. Bill appeared pleased to find this didn’t stop the men from trying. Stan attempted to push and pull himself out of the cuff to reach Ford, but it wouldn’t budge. Ford yanked at his chain in frustration as well.

Bill floated over to slowly descend lower to place himself in the space between them. “That was pretty rude, Fez. I was going to ask you to take your shoes off first.” Bill petulantly thunked Stan’s head. Stan gnashed through gritted teeth, “Damnit, let me see my brother, you little…!”

Ford looked up, wide-eyed, past Bill and over to his sibling. “Stanley, why are you here?! You shouldn’t be here!” Ford then addressed Bill, “Cipher, what do you want with my brother? You’ve got no business with—”

Bill smacked Ford hard across the cheek, the sound reverberating through the room. Ford clutched his stinging cheek. “Shut up!” Bill shouted, then rubbed the sides of his eye in a mock attempt to rub at one’s temples. “Oy yoy yoy, how many times I gotta drill this into you, Sixer? Unless I give you specific permission to speak, you’re to be seen and not heard, got it?” Bill looked back and forth between the stunned brothers. “What is with you two boys and following directions!”

Stan was indignant. “Why, you little shit! Nobody hits my brother ‘cept me! I’ll flatten you until I can fold you into a goddamn paper airplane!“ But his restraint around his waist kept him from acting on any threats.

Bill amused himself watching Stan’s attempts to strike him for a short time. Then he turned to Ford, rubbing Ford’s now red cheek tenderly. “Fordsy, your brother is so sure that you have a plan to defeat me, so I wanted to show him just how small and powerless you are now! Like putty in my hands!”

Ford slapped the demon’s hand from his cheek. “Don’t think I—“

Unphased, the demon’s voice turned saccharine as he batted his eyelashes, and he spoke with a sarcastic pity, “And it hasn’t been all rainbows for Fez here either! You should see the poor chum!” Bill used his power to force Stan to his knees, bringing him eye-level to his brother. “He’s trying so hard to be strong for those kids while the world crumbles around them. Look at his sad, dumb little face!” Bill gestured towards Stan’s face, and Stan attempted to grab him, but still couldn’t reach. “Ya know what he needs, Fordsy? His big brother to save him! So I’ll ask you very nicely once again: Won’t you give me the equation? The one to break the barrier? Won’t you do that and *let me* let Stan and the kids go free?” Bill elbowed Ford’s arm, goading.

The corners of Ford’s mouth turned down when he looked back to his brother. He lowered his head, muttering, “Stanley, you know I can’t do that for you, don’t you?”

Stan’s anger at Bill was then temporarily replaced by concern at seeing his brother so truly defeated. “Of course I understand, Sixer! That’s the whole fate of the world we’re talking about! Don’t worry, the kids are taking this like champs!” Stan smiled weakly, “Between you and me, we’ll figure something out!”

Bill watched the two interact closely, then his eye widened. An idea struck him. “Ya know… I think I would stop tormenting Fordsy for one other thing besides the equation…” Bill stroked below his eye pensively.

The brothers looked at him suspiciously. “Oh yeah? And what would that be?” Stan played along.

“Why don’t you just make a deal with me, Stan?” Bill extended his palm. "If I can’t get into Ford’s mind, let me into your’s! I’d stop hurting your dear brother, in exchange.”

Stan wrinkled his nose at the thought, but it could stop Bill from hurting Ford.

Was this a trick? How could this be a trick? Stan knew Bill had been torturing Ford, and Stan desperately wanted to protect Ford the way he had done for Stan and the kids with the botched deal. Stan also didn’t know the first thing about the equation, so Bill really wouldn’t gain any dangerous knowledge.

Bill’s hand extended to Stan in a blue fire. “What do ya say, Fez? If Ford won’t let me in to his head, let me into your’s! We got a deal?”

Stan cringed in indecision, staring at Bill’s hand before him. Stan slowly started to extend his hand— when:

“NO, Stan!” Ford reached out as far as he could to stop him.

Stan ran a palm through his hair in exasperation. “But I don’t know the equation, Ford! And you’d be safe!”

Bill snapped and Ford’s cuff tightened harshly around his neck with a “gkt!”. Bill rolled his eye. “Don’t listen to him, he doesn’t know what he’s talking about! Now, put’er there, friend-o!” Stan paused, his suspicion growing with every passing second. Bill continued, “I’ve been in Ford’s head you know? His falling out with you has been the single biggest regret of his miserable life! Well, that and handing me this dimension, I s’pose.” Bill volunteered, glancing back to see Ford’s quiet embarrassment as he prattled on. “He’s thought about you eeeeveryday; ‘Where’s Stan right now?’ ‘Was I too hard on him?’ ‘How could things have been different?’ He even dreamed about making amends, and of —what was it?— some random boat trip together…?”

At that, something clicked for Stan. Stan looked back to Ford, almost in disbelief. Stan whispered the words like they would be stolen away if said too loud:

“A…a boat?”

Stan felt like a piece of his heart had been mended back together and shattered all the same. To think Ford had missed him too all those years. Did Ford still miss him, what they were when they were boys?

The moment passed too fast, as Bill spoke with a pleading look at Stan. “Don’t you want to save him, Stan? Sail on that boat together? Make up for your mistakes?” Bill turned stern as he extended his hand. “It won’t happen if you don’t shake. My. Hand.”

Stan watched as Ford shook his head ‘no’ frantically, unable to speak as the chain tightened on his windpipe. Stan dragged his palm down across his face with a sigh. “No deal, Bill.”

Bill’s eye bore into Stan, a restrained violent intent oozing from his stare. He recovered instantly and used his extended arm to straighten his bow tie. “Ya know, Fez, let’s shelve the whole thing for now. I know you want more time to think on it, right? No one can call me unaccommodating to my guests! The only issue is… I really have no motivation for ever letting you see your grandniece and nephew again.” The brothers’ eyes widened in tandem.

With that, Bill poofed a wooden baseball bat into Stan’s hands.

“So why don’t you provide me a little entertainment for a while? Be a dear, will you, and use that bat to teach Ford a little lesson about speaking out of turn, yeah? Maybe he’ll feel generous, skip the dramatics, and give me the equation!”

“Why would I ever—?!”

Bill slowly circled Stan. “If you can’t land any good hits, Stanley, I might ‘misplace’ those kids of your’s, and for who knows how long?” Bill mused. Stan looked down at the bat. “Let’s find me some motivation to keep the family together!”

The silence in the room was deafening. The two men turned from Bill to look at each other in abject horror.

Stan jumped when Bill patted him on the shoulder patronizingly. “So! How’s about you get going with that bat, hm?” Bill then floated to Ford, yanking his head down by the chain of his cuff to ruffle his hair. “C’mon Stan, don’t pretend like it’s your first time bludgeoning someone with a blunt object!”

Stan huffed in panicked breaths, and ran a hand through his sweaty hair. Ford looked over at him somberly. Stan cradled his head in his hands and felt the lump in his throat threaten to release all the grief in his heart, but caught himself. He didn’t have time to cry, he had to think of a way to save his family, which was becoming more hopeless of a task by the hour.

Bill’s eye creased in sadistic joy. “But do avoid Fordsy’s head! I need his brain in working order for that equation.” The demon then booped Ford's nose affectionately, “And I still want him pretty!”

Chapter Text

Ford coughed up blood onto the plush fireplace carpet as he lay curled in on his side. He felt bruising around his ribs, and each inhale brought with it a dull ache. The skin on his neck had been cuffed long and tight enough that it stung. The only comfort he felt was the warmth of the fire on his back. That, and the fact that Bill had turned out all the lights when he left with a guilt-stricken Stan; a purposefully dehumanizing gesture. With the room dark, dim dying embers in the fireplace, Ford was provided a brief window of rest.

That was, until he heard his voice again. “Sheesh, Fez really did a number on you, didn’t he, Fordsy? I was interested to see if he’d actually do it to keep those kids! You think he broke a rib?” Bill poked Ford’s chest with his cane.

Ford didn't get up from laying on his side, and glared straight ahead. His only acknowledgment of Bill’s return was a mutter. “You gave him no choice.”

“He must love those kids waaaay more than you if he beat you to a pulp for 'em.”

“Who knows where you would have taken them if he hadn’t.”

“Then you should’ve just let him agree to my deal to get in his head, and this all could’ve been avoided.”

“You just want to use his own body to kill him, or even hurt the children… All with Stan’s own hands…” Ford sullenly explained. “You knew it would nullify the deal because it wouldn’t physically be you or your followers harming them.”

“Aw, Fordsy, you know me so well! Stan wouldn’t be so annoying with a semi-self-induced hole in the head, don’t ya think? Haha!” Bill spoke casually. “So, you ready to divulge your little equation yet? I’ve been nothing if not patient.”

“You know the answer already.” Ford murmured, still looking blankly ahead.

That was when Ford’s head was lifted forcefully to face his captor. “DAMN IT, FORD, LOOK AT ME WHEN I’M TALKING TO YOU!!” Bill shouted, turning red in rage. Bill’s shift caused Ford to startle out of his melancholic stupor, replaced by an irritated confusion. Their eyes met.

Bill took a slow controlled breath in and out, and let go of his hold on Ford’s head. Ford’s upper half fell back to the floor and Ford shuffled to sit up straight.

Bill then grabbed Ford by the shoulders, and shoved him backwards toward the wall of the fireplace until his back hit it. “H’wow, kid! You’re really starting to get me bent outta shape here! I can’t hurt your family, I can’t get you to cooperate, and I can’t get out of this podunk trash town!”

Ford was held against the wall, as Bill continued, “I don’t want to hurt you! It’s not fun anymore!” Bill then whined childishly. “Why do you have to be so difficult? What would you have been without me all those years ago, huh? A disowned hermit loser in the woods until you blew your own brains out with a shotgun?”

“Oh, so I should be thankful to you? That's rich!” Ford’s voice cracked, “You’ve been the worst thing to ever happen to me! A shotgun to the mouth would’ve been preferable to the life I’m living now!”

Bill dragged at his lower lid in frustration. “If you’d just give me the damn equation, we could rule the galaxy! We could be so happy!”

“Don’t act like you care for me now! If you ever loved anything besides yourself, it would be the idea of someone on their knees worshipping you! “

Bill threw his arms up, fingers curled. “Then if you would just kneel and be what I want you to be you could join me!”

Ford shoved Bill away, incensed. “That isn’t how you treat someone you care about! You can’t force them to be something entirely of your own design!”

Ford’s eyes scanned over Bill briefly, appalled by Bill’s genuine disappointment on his expression. Ford’s voice lowered, astonished, “…You really think I’ll just forgive you after all you’ve done? Look what you’ve done to my neighbors, my friends, my family…!”

“Oh, don’t give me that! What friends? What family? You’d been lost in the nightmare dimension for 30 years and nobody besides your half-wit brother even noticed you were gone! I never gave up looking for you out there, you know!”

“You never stopping hunting me down. And I was only so alone in my cabin because you pushed me away from everyone; Stan, Fiddleford, the townspeople, everyone who wasn't you!”

Bill yanked Ford close by his chain. “That’s just the cost of doing business when you say you want to change the world, kid! And there’s no backing out once we’ve come so close! Pull your weight, give me the equation, and let me give you what you’ve wanted! Let me make you happy for once in your sad, short, miserable little life!”

“I could never be happy with you, Cipher!” Ford screamed.

Bill dropped the chain, visibly recoiling at Ford’s words as though they burned him. Bill immediately slapped Ford hard across the mouth. Bill huffed in anger, and… another emotion Bill wouldn’t name… as he realized that their relationship had reached a point of no return. Bill would never get back his devoted partner, not ever willingly.

'...And that was ok!' Bill thought to himself hysterically. He never really cared for Ford! It's all been a shtick, hadn't it? A ruse! A joke! It had, hadn't it?

Not knowing what else to feel, Bill’s flat yellow surfaces again grew red in rage, and this time, his edges began to spread apart. The gaps in his shell exposed a writhing, fleshy black mass underneath. His arms multiplied from all angles. With each gross pulsation, Bill grew in size. Ford tried to crawl backwards, but was still cornered against the wall. Ford winced as he began to seriously consider that Bill may kill him by crushing him here.

“Boss!” A voice echoed from down the hallway. Pyronica and Teeth entered the doorway, panting.

The voice snapped Bill out of his accumulating rage. The writhing mass escaping from his edges receded and he shrank back to his normal form. “What?”

“That human, Stan, you had 8-Ball guarding, sir? Well, see….”

“Spit it out, Pyronica!” Bill turned to her, impatiently.

Pyronica braced herself. “W-Well he knocked out 8-Ball somehow… and now we don’t know where he is!”

Bill blinked. “What?!”

Behind Bill, a smile crept onto Ford’s face, his head subtly shaking back and forth in disbelief. “Oh Stanley, you bastard you!”

Bill glanced back at Ford, the human beaming and laughing in delight, “Come on, Cipher! You have to do better than that if you-“ he spoke through chuckles, “-if you want to beat my brother!” With Stan not in the room, Ford showed a fondness for his brother on full display. Bill watched silently as Ford’s shoulders shook in laughter.

“If you think I’m a problem,” Ford hollered, “that guy! That guy’s a menace!”

Pyronica stepped to Bill’s side and whispered to him, “Yeah Boss, They’re more trouble than they’re worth. Why don’t we just let them g—“

“SHH!” Bill shushed her as he continued to watch Ford’s laughing, which soon had quelled into a quieter—admittedly un-masculine—kind of giggle. Bill scoured over Ford’s features; Ford’s smile, his chest’s staggered breathing, the twinkle in his eyes.

Bill was entranced. Ford boasted on, “You and I both are out of our depth with Stanley! He defies all logical explanation!" Ford briefly wiped away a tear, "That man repaired the portal with no formal education! None!” It occurred to Bill that this was the first time he’d seen Ford laugh in 30 years. For a short moment, Bill’s gaze softened on his prisoner, and thoughtlessly, Bill began to chuckle lightly too.

Pyronica gave Bill a discerning look, until her eyebrow raised in epiphany. “Oh my God! You’re in love with him…!”

Bill shot to attention, his red glowing rage wholly reinvigorated, and flung Pyronica into the far wall. A pot then crashed on her head as she hit the shelf. Teeth gasped.

“Pyronica, you bimbo!! That’s such a stupid statement!! I really should pulverize you into mush! I should skin you alive! I should throw you off this Fearamid!”

Pyronica quivered against the wall..

Teeth chattered nervously. “S-She didn’t mean it, sir! A misunderstanding, sir!”

“Ugh, whatever, you’re wasting time! He’s got to still be in the Fearamid, so find him! Immediately!” Bill roared.

The Henchmaniacs went room by room, scrambling amongst themselves, combing each spot of the Fearamid for signs of Stan.

8-Ball opened a closet full of rows of eyeball jars, finding no human. 8-Ball rubbed the knot on his head, “I don’t know how that guy got the jump on me. One second I was leading him down to his cell, the next second he punched me in the back of the head— except it wasn’t with those soft human paws, it was like his knuckles were made of brass or something!”

“Boss is really bent outta shape now… To think, this human has that strong of a punch to have knocked out 8-Ball!” Hectorgon lifted back a curtain swiftly to find nothing there.

Pyronica squinted, scanning the room, “These damn brothers… Stanley and Stanford Pines, I think their names are?”

“Aw jeez, B-B-Boss is gonna kill us if we don’t find that guy!” Kryptos panicked.

Teeth chattered anxiously at the thought.

“Now, now, he wouldn’t kill us if the human escaped. I, uh… well I think he wouldn’t, anyway.” Keyhole cringed. The strange-looking monster searched a large potted plant for the man, and shrieked when the alien plant tried to take a bite at him.

The other henchmen rolled their eyes. Hectorgon blurted aloud in frustration, “So what’s the plan, really? We can’t keep all these humans around in the Fearamid forever! We should just add ‘em to the throne and call it a day!” Hectorgon blurted aloud.

Shh!” Kryptos shushed nervously, “Boss isn’t going to be h-happy if he finds out you’re q-questioning his leadership.”

Hectorgon continued, “I ain’t questioning nothing! I’m just wondering how long the Boss is gonna have us babysitting these four. I just don’t see why we can’t just kill ‘em, is all.” Hectorgon pouted.

“It does seem strange,” Pyronica mused as she scanned the room. “Bill could easily get rid of them all. But if you’ll remember, he did offer one of them a chance to join the Henchmaniacs on the spot. The smart one built the Portal, the other one took 8-Ball down… They must not be any ordinary humans.”

“They aren’t your typical humans.” 8-Ball turned to her. “I overheard some of the conversation between Boss and that Fez guy earlier in the Study. You didn’t hear this from me, but Boss *was tricked* into a deal where he agreed to not harm Fez and the kids. Boss got a fake equation. So Bill still needs that equation from the smarter one, so he’s not going to just let any of them leave.”

The other henchmaniacs were shocked. Kryptos covered his mouth, whispering, “The Boss? Tricked? By a human? I don’t believe it.”

“That does make sense of things then,” Pyronica pondered aloud. She giggled. “No wonder Bill hasn’t been up front about it. Tricked by a few puny humans? That’s gotta be a little embarrassing on Boss’s end.”

“They may be puny, but they actually got pretty close to defeating Bill two separate times right at the start of Weirdmageddon.” Kryptos noted then paused for a moment. “…It’s almost like… no, no nevermind.”

“It’s almost like what?” Hectorgon prodded. Kryptos fidgeted with his hands nervously. “Well, it’s almost like—“

“They both should join the Henchmaniacs...” Pyronica interrupted.

The team was quiet.

8-Ball kicked a footrest in anger. “Where’s this moron hiding anyway? There’s no way to get out of the Fearamid without Bill creating an exit!”

“That’s it!” Pyronica slapped her fist into her other hand in realization. “Where’s the only holes in the Fearamid that aren’t monitored by Bill? The gaps in the pistons of the Engine Room!!”

The gang bolted to action, except 8-Ball. “That’s stupid, it’s where we were headed anyway to return him to his cell. Plus he’s looking at a 10 story drop from there. Unless you had like an infinite zipline cable--” then the monster paused. The grappling hook they spoke on earlier.

8-Ball crammed into the elevator with them, causing everyone to squish in like a box of sardines, saying, "Oh shoot we have got to get down there!"

The smooth jazz music played in the elevator. “Hey! Who turned the smooth jazz back on in this thing?” Hectorgon complained. Everyone shrugged or made various commented that it hadn't been them.

The elevator opened, and there was Stan 10 feet away, looking over one of the Fearamid’s large piston holes. Stan looked back at them, and before he could react, the Henchmaniacs had dog-piled on him. Stan could outwit them, even outrun them, but in a fight, he stood no chance. Stan resisted, but it was no use, as they began dragging him to the elevator. They began arguing on the elevator ride up to the Throne Room who got the credit of catching him.

Bill had made himself massive to fit his humongous throne. The demon couldn’t hide how pleased he was to look down on puny Stan, as the man resisted both the Henchmaniacs holding him by his arms. In Bill’s grip, wriggled Stanford.

Bill cackled. “Nice try trying to get away, slick! So close, too! But I can’t just let you off with a harsh scolding, ya know? Sadly, crushing you to dust is off the menu today, so let me think…” Bill thumbed thoughtlessly through Stanford’s hair, pushing his whole head back and forth. “Maybe Ford gets one hundred lashes? Or two hundred?” Then Bill’s eye squinted devilishly, “No! I’ll just take the kids away from you indefinitely! Better yet, you can keep one of ‘em— I’ll let you pick your favorite in front of them! Ahaha! Keyhole, go get the kids and bring ‘em up here!”

Stan, exhaustion showing through his heavy breathing, still had the energy to flail and fight against the grip of his captors, all while glaring directly at Bill.

“Ay Gideon!” Bill snapped and Gideon’s cage descended from the ceiling. Bill, wanting to soak in Stan’s dread, kept his eye glued to Stan as he spoke, “I think he’ll pick Shooting Star! The look on Pine Tree’s face will be priceless! Am I right or am I right, Gideon? Oh and you better still be dancing!”

Silence.

“Gideon! I asked you a question, didn’t I?”

Silence.

“Gideon, don’t tell me you’ve already passed out from the dancing thing!“

Silence.

Bill finally tore his eye away from Stan and looked aside. Gideon’s cage was empty.

Keyhole came running into the Throne Room. “Boss! The young Pines twins! They-They’re… not in their cell! We can’t find them anywhere!”

Stan looked over at his brother just like he did when the two were school kids and he snuck a live raccoon into the classroom. It was the same sly smile.

Ford laughed out loud, “I knew it!”

Bill saw red. “What do you mean you can’t find them?! And where’s Gideon!?” OH STANLEY, I’m going to make you regret the day you were ever born…!”

A few minutes earlier:

“I knew you’d think of a way to bust us outta this Dorito den, Grunkle Stan!” Mabel exclaimed as he opened their cell door in the Engine Room. “And you brought Gideon?!” Dipper spoke incredulously.

“Hey!” Gideon snapped, “Stan Pines decided I wasn’t all that bad and —“

Stan groaned. “Hey Gideon, don’t get it mixed up! I was passing by your cage anyway, and, well, I figured I had to put aside my beef with a literal ten-year-old... For now…”

In between the spinning pistons, the group could see the ground outside. Stan, was thinking intensely on if his hurried plan was actually going to work.

Mabel smiled, “I was really worried about you, Grunkle Stan!” and she went in for a hug. Stan jolted back out of his stupor and pushed her off with a scowl.

“Don’t touch me!” He shouted. Mabel backed off, upset. What Mabel wouldn’t understand was that Stan’s mind had been all messed up since he did what he did to Ford thirty minutes ago. He could still hear Ford tell him that it ‘was ok’ and to ‘think of the children’… Psh, as if Stan had ever stopped thinking about the children… as if any of this was ‘ok.’ He looked down at his shirt that still had conspicuous spatterings of Ford’s blood. Bill was becoming more unhinged by the minute— Stan had to get the kids out of here.

Dipper stuttered, “Not that I’m doubting you, but are we really going to jump off this thing?!” Dipper looked down at the 10 story drop to the ground. This was a formulated plan, Stan nodded to himself. He wasn’t completely making this up as he went along. Sweat beaded on his forehead.

“Yep kiddo, how do you think I got Gideon out of his cage? I nabbed the grappling hook on the way down here.”

Dipper’s brows furrowed. “I don’t really think it can drop us that far to the ground safely. The line is a little short…”

“Usually it would be! But turns out Weirdmageddon has even affected it. Watch this.” Stan shot the hook down diagonally towards the ground. The children watched in amazement as the grappling hook kept extending and extending, launching hundreds of times farther than it used to. It didn’t even make sense how such a small device could hold that much coiled rope. Finally, the device stopped whirring and lodged itself into the ground’s dry soil.

Dipper hesitated. “B-But! How will we get dow-” but before he could finish, Stan tossed the boy his belt.

“Hope you like zip-lining.”

Dipper’s usual protests came out in incoherent stutters.

Stan tossed Mabel his jacket. “Go on now, we don’t have much time.”

“W-W-What about me, Stanley?!” Gideon squawked.

Stan rolled his eyes, and handed the boy his tie.

The children looped their garments over the grappling hook line, testing their grip.

Dipper uttered his first coherent protest. “What are you gonna use, Grunkle Stan? Are we just going to leave Grunkle Ford here?”

“I ain’t going anywhere without Ford, kids.”

“You’re staying here with Grunkle Ford?!” Dipper’s voice cracked, “O-O-Oh no, Mabel… W-what are we going to do?”

Stan kneeled to eye level with the boy. “You’re gonna be strong for your sister, aren’t you Dipper?”

Dipper bit his bottom lip to hide his chin’s quivering, then steeled himself as best as a newly 13 year old could. Dipper sniffed and nodded silently in agreement.

“And most important of all, you are going to head to safety. Head directly to the Mystery Shack with the unicorn hair protection, get supplies, then head for the outer barrier of Gravity Falls. I think the barrier should let humans out, as we haven’t been affected directly by the Weirdness. Get to a public place with a phone and call your parents first thing, understand?"

Stan sighed and continued, “And God forbid if you ever run into Bill and I’m not there to protect you… Don’t argue with him, don’t trust him on his word, and most importantly, don’t make any, *any* kind of deal with him, no matter how good it may sound. I'm making myself clear?”

The three kids nodded.

Mabel broke her silence, voice shaking. “But Grunkle Stan… why can’t I hug you?”

If Stan’s heart had been cracking under the pressure of all this, hearing Mabel say that shattered it to pieces.

“Oh pumpkin…” he knelt down and swooped both the twins into a warm bear hug. “I’m sorry kids, you can always hug me. Your Grunkle Stan is on the case, so stay strong and just give it all some time. You’ve got nothin’ to worry about. Chins up, alright?“ The twins’ hugs grew tighter on him, as they quietly sniveled.

After a rushed goodbye, the children one-by-one, went sliding down the grappling hook line. Once he saw all three children touch the ground, he heard the Henchmaniacs make their way in, and he set the grappling hook to reverse, and kicked it off the side of the Fearamid so it wouldn’t be destroyed. Maybe the kids would need it at some point to get to the Shack.

“STANLEY! YOU SLIPPERY LITTLE IDIOT, YOU!” Bill cursed through the room.

Bill felt a shaking in his grip and looked over. There it was again — Ford laughing. Bill turned to Stan in annoyance, only to find that both of the brothers were laughing together, like it was all some tacit joke Bill wasn’t in on! Laughing! In the presence of Nightmare Demon Bill Cipher?!

“You defy all reason, you know that!” Ford chuckled at Stan endearingly. These brothers stupefied Bill. They were quite literally in the clutches of their torturer and captor, yet there they were smiling from ear to ear! Ford’s smile… directed at Stanley. Stanley beaming back at Ford. Bill squirmed subtly. Wasn’t Stanley the brother who ruined Ford's life?? Why couldn’t Bill ever get Ford to smile at him that way? Weren’t these brothers supposed to hate each other?!

“So you’ve freed your sniveling brats! What can they do against me anyway?” Bill’s yell echoed loudly through the chamber, demanding Ford and Stan’s attention. “I’ve been far too lenient on you two! I negotiate a deal or two, and suddenly everyone forgets that I am your new GOD. And as your new God, it’s long past time I teach you the terror of an angry God!”

Bill began to thumb at the left side of Ford’s skull. “Tomorrow, I’ll be getting into that head of your brother's by surgically removing his metal plate from his skull!” Ford and Stan's smiles dropped. Ford squirmed helplessly in Bill’s hand.

“And since I can’t control his neurons,” Bill continued, “sweet Fordsy will have to be awake the whole time for it! I sure hope he survives it without brain damage! But don’t worry, Fez, cause I’ll be recording the whole thing so you can watch it later too!”

Stan gasped, “You can’t be serious!”

Bill squished Ford’s cheek with his thumb. “Just the two of us, Fordsy, making a cassette tape again… it’ll be like old times, won’t it?” Ford continued to fight against Bill’s grip. The demon then barked orders at the henchmen. “Now! Take ol’ Fez to the top floor! Give him the guest room; I want him close so I can keep an eye on him.”

Stan was pulled away by Bill’s henchmen. As he was dragged out the large doors of the Throne Room, Bill called out behind him, “So much for that boat trip, huh boys!?” Bill’s shrill cackle rumbled Stan’s eardrums as the double doors slammed shut.

Chapter Text

The brothers got no sleep that night in their guest room prison. Ford quickly resigned himself to lay in bed facing the wall, but knowing what lie ahead for him kept his heart racing. That, and the constant sound of Stan ramming his shoulder into the door for hours on end wasn’t exactly a lilting lullaby. Ford had tried to stop him multiple times; telling him it was useless, that he was only hurting himself, but Stan wouldn’t listen.

It wasn’t until the wee hours of the night that Ford finally sat up from the bed. “Stanley, that’s enough.”

“And what? Mope in bed like you!?” Stan huffed as he continued knocking himself into the door with all his might. “I’ve got to! Do something to get us! The hell outta here! If I can just knock this door—mmf!—with enough force!”

As Stan wound up again for another ram, he jumped when Ford’s hand landed on his shoulder from directly behind him. “Stanley, that’s enough.”

Stan—hunched, out of breath, and aching— shouted up at Ford in frustration. “How can you be so calm about this?!”

Ford bristled, “There’s nothing we can do!”

“Yeah? Well I don’t need 3 PhD’s to know that ramming into this door here is better than lying in bed sulking! Why, Mr. Scholar, should I stop at least trying to—”

“—Because it’s killing me, Stanley!!” Ford choked. “It’s killing me more than any of Bill’s mind games! Do you have any idea what this feels like?! To watch firsthand all of the pain I’ve caused you?! The pain I’ve caused everyone?!”

Ford marched back to sit on the bed facing the wall, head down and fists clenched in his lap. Stan crossed his arms, still facing the door; upset at Ford for being so defeated, at himself for being so useless.

The dark room was filled with a silent tension for several minutes.

“…I do know what it‘s like to watch the pain I’ve caused.” Stan muttered. “I tore our family apart over some idiot mistake in high school. And then I made another idiot mistake losing you to the portal. And get this, here’s the real kicker,” Stan laughed bitterly, “I continued to fuck up my own life for the next 30 years well after I ruined everyone elses’! Hell, Bill told me this whole thing was my fault, and I couldn’t even deny it.“

Ford looked over his shoulder to Stan across the room, “Don't let Bill get in your head. I made my choices and this is no one's fault but Bill and I’s.”

Ford shuffled to fully face Stan for a moment, and Stan also turned to face Ford. “And the way you see yourself? Dipper and Mable certainly don’t see you that way. Or those other friends of your’s.” Ford scratched at the back of his neck, “Or myself.”

Stan smiled warily. “…Yeah?” then chuckled, “Well, my point is I think it’s been long overdue to have somebody else doing the fucking up around here.”

Ford suppressed a laugh, tittering. “Well good, because mine’s one for the record books.”

Stan approached the bed to sit down on his side. Both brothers sat on their side of the bed facing opposite walls of the room. Stan sighed aloud, “Look at us, not even the apocalypse can make us get along for more than 5 minutes at a time.” The two chuckled lightly.

“…Stan,” Ford began soberly, “if something should happen tomorrow… there’s something I’ve been meaning to say to you, but it's never really been a good time for it…” Ford began hesitantly, a rare occasion for the proud man to be at a loss for words. “I… I just wanted to say…”

“I’mma stop ya right there, Sixer.” Stan interrupted as he leaned his direction, “I’ve got a feeling I’m about to hear some sappy shit—and even if it was that elusive ‘thank you’ I rightfully deserve—that’s going to have to wait ‘til all this sci-if junk is over. Wait ‘til we’re out sailing on our boat and I’m cussing my sunburn, ’kay?”

Ford smiled back at him, a wistful expression on his face, “Ok, ‘til we’re out on our boat.”

That morning, the other henchmen were gathered along the hall, watching on in morbid curiosity as Ford was dragged by his upper arm by 8-Ball, who was making way towards the operation room. From the shouts and struggles they had heard from Stan all the way from a floor up, and the flush on Ford’s face, the henchmen could deduce it was likely a dramatic separation. Their scuffle had momentarily even drowned out the deluge of black-colored rain and crashes of bright pink lightning that raged outside the Fearamid, in what would come to be Known as a typical summer storm during Weirdmageddon.

The monsters watched as 8-Ball and the captive man entered the room the operation would take place in. “Wh-What do you guys think is going to go down in there?” Kryptos asked, slightly empathetic to the puny little human.

Hectorgon replied coldly, “Well, the options are that when Boss will drill into the human’s head the guy survives it, or the guy doesn’t survive it. Or Boss will cut a deal with him at the last second. It’s risky, but there’s a high chance we get that equation and we’re finally out of this hick town.”

Teeth jumped in excitement, “Oh boy! I can’t wait to have a new dimension to play with!”

Pyronica watched the door to the operation room quietly, remembering the way Bill looked at Ford yesterday. “I don’t think Boss will do it.” She then turned away and headed off, noting it was her turn to guard the guest room door.

Ford cursed and thrashed wildly as 8-Ball shoved him into a chair, then held the human’s face down against the polished onyx surface of the table. The goblin forcibly turned the man’s head into position and fastened Ford’s neck cuff to the table. Ford’s wrists were then strapped down on either side of his head. This left Ford seated uncomfortably in the chair, with his head and hands pinned down on the table to keep him still for his ‘operation’. Once sure the human was secured, 8-Ball exited the room muttering complaints to himself. Ford’s strapped down hands could do nothing but feel for purchase to uselessly push against. The man wondered in a detached stillness whether this would have been how his moths felt as he pinned them down in their frames all those years ago. The difference was, Ford noted morosely, he had had the decency to make sure the insects were dead at the time.

His somber thoughts were interrupted by —what was that?— *smooth jazz* playing over the ceiling speaker? ”Oh brother, here we go.” Stanford groaned.

“Heya Fordsy!” entered Bill, in full doctor attire. Bill’s white coat was much too tall for his equilateral form, and hung off him absurdly like a curtain. He carried a suitcase much too large for size. The whole thing would be laughable under different circumstances. Bill tipped his head mirror in character like he would his top hat. “I figured you’d be a little nervous for our little procedure, so I thought I’d play you some easy listening before we started. Bedside manner and all that!”

Ford rolled his eyes, too restrained to otherwise express his disdain. Of course Bill wouldn’t pass up an opportunity to turn his mutilation into a joke… or miss a chance to play dress up, for that matter.

Bill then used a remote to set a camera in the corner of the room to record. “Don’tcha worry Fordsy, ol’ pal!” Bill held up a human anatomy book upside down in one hand, “I’ve been studying up on all human organs and viscera for the past 15 minutes, so you should feel fairly confident that you won’t die!” He tossed the book aside.

“If I die, it will be from bleeding out from my head. If the shock doesn’t take me first.” Ford stoically commented.

Bill started pulling on some latex gloves. “‘Shock’? Fordsy, I’m not going to be electrocuting you, silly!” Bill reconsidered the statement, “…Well, unless your heart stops, I think? Eh, we’ll cross that bridge when we come to it, haha!” He winked as he finished snapping the gloves in place.

“Yep, I’m as good as dead.” Ford deadpanned, followed by a deep, stuttered breath in to keep calm.

“Trust the process, kid!” Bill snapped and the smooth jazz stopped. Bill slammed the suitcase onto the table near Ford’s head. The room now filled with clanking sounds as Bill rummaged through the suitcase and digging past all kinds of gadgets, most of which looked like tools one would use on a car. That was, until Bill lifted out an industrial drill and a mechanical circular bone saw.

Bill switched the bone saw on to test it. Both he and Ford watched the saw whirr. Bill looked over Ford’s fettered form, and out of character, Bill gave a long sigh, “Unless you wanted to stop all this dumbfuckery? Let me into your mind yourself and just give me that equation?” Bill floated closer to Ford to whisper in his ear, “9 out of 10 doctors recommend the latter option.”

Ford averted his eyes with a bitter “No.”

Bill’s eye crinkled back up in peppy character. “Welp, I hope you’ve got good health insurance, 'cause I didn’t pretend to get an M.D. to not cut a hole in peoples’ skulls! So! Let’s get started!” Bill turned on the buzzing bone saw again.

Ford grimaced as he felt his heart pumping into his head in anticipation. As Bill lowered the saw towards his temple, Ford braced himself for the pain.

The buzzing stopped.

“Ya know...“ Bill considered aloud, “I’ve always wanted to try a contraption you humans created, I think it was called a ‘silly straw’.”

“…W-What?” Stanford peeked over, teeth gritted and failing to attempt to hide his quivering.

“Yeah…” Bill continued thoughtfully, turning off the saw and placing his tools aside momentarily. “It brings liquid to the mouth like a regular straw but first makes it do all these pointless loopty-loops! I've heard your planet has these." Bill gabbed on then focused in on his captive. "How’s about another deal, Stanford? You try a silly straw with me sometime—we’ll split a galactic soda pop— and in exchange I’ll turn off the pain function in your nervous system for the surgery! And—“

“Damnit Cipher! You don’t have the decency to stop trying to get into my head while you’re about to drill into it!?” Ford was incensed.

“—You didn’t let me finish, kid." Bill spoke on, "and I’ll turn off the pain function in your nervous system for the surgery, and access absolutely nothing else in that stubborn noggin of your’s.” Bill lowered himself to stand on the table near Ford’s eye level. “Only this once, you can close it all off to me. No tricks or strings attached. You can continue this whole brat fetish you have until I forcibly pry the equation from your bleeding hippocampus. If the results will be the same either way, you might as well do it painlessly, right?”

Ford hesitated, “Why would you agree to get so close to what you want without reaching it? What do you gain from this?”

Bill’s sat on the table by Ford's head, his eye crinkling innocuously. “I said it, trying a silly straw with my ol’ pal!”

“You’re just wanting to trick me somehow and get into my head for the equation!”

“I’m not getting very far in your head with this deal, now am I? Besides, I’ll be getting into your entire head after I get that metal plate out of it anyway.”

The two blinked at each other for a moment. Ford almost couldn’t believe it… Bill, the nightmare psyche demon, who had been torturing him for days on end, who had forced his own brother to beat him with a baseball bat, who was about to force Ford to undergo mutilating surgery… The arbiter of all his suffering... was now offering an act of compassion? Was this an elaborate excuse to trick Ford when he couldn't adequately weigh the consequences? Or, more compellingly, Bill showing some rudimentary understanding of ethics? For a short moment, Ford felt the nostalgic desire to write this all down.

Bill didn't need to be in Ford's mind to watch the gears turning in his head. Was Bill finally reaching this guy? Bill looked sincerely into Ford's deep brown eyes and Ford into his.

Then Ford spat in Bill’s eye.

Bill remained unreadable as a tongue emerged out of his bottom lid and slowly laved across his sclera.

Bill silently quelled the simmering desire to tear Ford in half at the spine.

Ford balked, “I’m not falling for the ludicrous idea that you‘d care about my suffering, Cipher. Just look at me!” He tried to lift his head off the table, clanking the chain that attached his neck to its surface in demonstration.

“But! But..!” Bill slapped his own face in frustration. The demon remembered himself in time and used the remote to cut off the camera recording so he could speak plainly with the man. Bill looked around the room, as if making sure they were completely alone which of course they were. He continued, quieter, “Damn it, Ford, but I… I…” Bill started to stutter as Ford looked up at him with those damnable brown eyes.

Bill held back a flinch as the human averted his gaze back towards the table coldly. Ford muttered, “You’re wasting your breath, Cipher. You want what I can’t give you. There’s nothing else to talk about.”

Bill stammered stupidly. He did want the equation. But Bill also wanted something else entirely from the man; something that Bill himself still couldn't name. One thing that was clear to see, though, was that Bill was going to have to burn the man’s psyche to ash and rebuild it from the ground up if this human was to have any future here in Weirdmageddon.

Well, there it was again: an ultimatum. Bill grabbed his hat off his point and threw it to the ground in anger, then reached for the bone saw. “Ya know what? Nevermind! Let’s get sawing already! Scream nice and loud for your brother to hear upstairs!”

“Hey! Hey, Monster girl!" Stan shouted through the crack under the guest room door. "Yeah you, I can see you guarding the door from down here!”

Pyronica looked ahead blankly, ignoring her ward’s harassment. Stan clicked his tongue.

“Nice legs, by the way!” He whistled at her.

This shook her out of her silence. “Hey!” Pyronica glared down at the eyes under the crack.

“Finally, you’re listening to me!” Stan cried. “I need your help!”

“Me? Help you? Oh sweetie, aren’t you precious...” She looked down at him, amused and shaking her head.

“I think I have a solution for all you guys, and it’ll get your boss that dumb equation! It’ll also even have an added bonus for him! Let me see Bill!” Stan pressed. “I have a deal for him! Please!” he pleaded.

“You’re insane if you think I’ll interrupt the boss for him to hear your blabbering.”

“I know Bill doesn’t want to hurt my brother! It’ll be better than the plan he’s going for now. The worst he can tell me is no! Please, Pyronica, please!

“Oh, so you do know my name, huh?” She smiled down at him.

Bill took a few minutes to figure out how to set the camera back to record, narrating the whole endeavor. The demon could devise a portal between dimensions, but work an earthly camcorder? The jury’s still out.

Finally Bill selected a setting and squinted, “Oh it’s recording now! I think anyway? Oh, it might’ve been recording for a few minutes now. Maybe? If it is, I’ll have to crop out some of the, err, technical difficulties…”

Once the red light flashed on, the demon grabbed and turned on the bone saw. As he approached Ford, his back to the camera, Bill almost looked sad for a moment. Then his brooding was interrupted as he stopped his approach entirely, looking around. “What is that feeling..?” Bill's eyes darted around the room. “Is that… a second human electrical brain signal?… It’s close, too! I swear, if it’s Fez—”

At that, the door opened calmly, Stan standing in it. Bill groaned, ”Now how in the—? Do I even have evil henchmen?!”

“Stanley!” Ford shouted, only to notice Stan was very much still a prisoner, with his hands in cuffs and henchmen surrounding him.

“Boss!” Pyronica announced peeking through from the door frame, “I know what you’re thinking, but this Stan human says he has a deal for you that‘ll get you the equation without drilling into his brother’s head!”

Bill was turning a shade of pink as he cursed, “Pyronica, you idiot, how dare you interrupt me when I’m—” then Bill changed his mind sadistically, “Ya know what? This works too! Tie Fez to the chair on the other end of the table! We won’t need to record anything on tape cause I’ll let him watch the operation live!”

Pyronica gestured towards Stan. “Let’s hear him out, Boss! Wouldn’t you rather not have to do the operation? What if the human died and we couldn’t get the equation at all?”

Stan stepped forward. “I have a deal for you, Bill!”

The demon brought the buzzing saw closer to Ford’s temple, unimpressed. “What could you possibly offer me, Fez? Unless you’re here to humbly offer me possession of that skin suit of your’s… I’d love to perform Ford’s operation in your body! That’d be like a whole gosh darn telenovela! Haha!”

Stan cringed. “No, it’s not that. It’s a chance at both the equation and there’s an added bonus! And at no risk to Stanford.”

Bill rolled his eyes and turned off the bone saw, “I’m not falling for this again! I want the equation to nullify the barrier surrounding Gravity Falls! We’re not talking about y=mx+b!”

Stan cocked his head, perplexed, “…What nonsense are ya going on about with a math equation that don’t even got any numbers?”

Bill retorted, flat-eyed, “There are hundreds of equations that only consist of variables.”

Stan continued, “Ok, so I don’t know what ‘y=mx+b’ means, but—”

“It’s to calculate linear slope.” Ford added, helpfully.

“H’oh my god, whatever you nerds!” Stan groaned. “What I do know is that both you and I have the mutual interest in not risking Ford‘s death by doing this surgery. So I’ve got an idea that gets you not only a chance at the equation without risking Ford, but also a chance to get rid of me for good! It’s a literal mind game, too, like you love so much.”

Bill was quiet.

Ford shuffled uncomfortably against the table. “Stan, what are you—“

“Here’s the deal: Ford lets you *and me* in his mind, starting at the same place. Whoever finds the equation first can do what they want with it — you can use it to escape the barrier, I can erase it from Ford’s mind completely!”

“A race in Ford’s mind…? No, no, it’s too risky.” Bill dismissed it.

“And to sweeten the deal, I’ll agree to remove whatever protection Ford’s original deal offered me, for as long as I’m stuck in his head with you!” (Stan ignored Ford’s horrified “What?!”)

This perked Bill up a good bit. “Ah! So what you’re saying is I could get the equation to break the barrier andI could finally eliminate you!”

“Yeah, if you play your cards right.” Stan nodded.

“A game with high stakes on both sides.” Bill mused. “…I like it!”

Ford protested, “I’m not going to agree to such a ludicrous-“, but he paused as Bill wasted no time turning on the bone saw again, buzzing it close enough that Ford could feel the air coming from the moving blade on his ear.

Bill offered his free hand, glowing blue, to Ford’s confined wrist. “It’s this or the bone saw, kid! Going once!”

Stan stammered, “Ford, ya got to trust me!”

Ford winced as the blades whirred, “He’ll destroy you in there! Do you know what it would feel like to know my own twin brother died *inside my own head*!?”

“Going twice!” Bill continued.

“Do you know what it will feel like to watch my own twin brother sawed open right in front of my eyes!?” Stan cried. “There’s a chance this could erase any way for Bill to break the barrier!”

“But he could also get the equation!” Ford protested. Sweat dripped down his temple as the saw grew closer. He bit his bottom lip in indecision.

Stan smiled pleadingly. “C’mon, give me a chance to help you, Stanford! Let me do what I do best and fight off this bully for ya! Like old times!”

Stan’s words caught Ford off guard. Ford grimaced, then slumped in his binds as he offered Bill his hand. “I sure hope you know what you’re doing, Stanley…”

“Alright friends, now that we’ve got an understanding of the specifics this time, let’s make a DEAL!” Bill took Ford’s hand.

Everything went white.

A ringing filled Stan’s head as he came to. Mind travel made everything seem kind of floaty, kind of like that feeling of standing at the bottom of a swimming pool and looking up. Then he felt a bitter cold, and bolted to consciousness in a panic to find he was lying in a field of frigid snow.

The wind howled in the night, and the flurries of falling snow blew into his eyes. The snowstorm blurred much of what lay in the distance, but he was able to glean that he was outside of the Mystery Shack, all in grayscale. Notably, its usual signage is missing and it didn’t take long for him to figure out that the cabin in the distance was in much better repair than his tourist trap usually was. Stan re-oriented himself— he’s in Ford’s mind after all. This must be the shack before Stan took it over. Something about the realization that Ford’s subconscious was still stuck over 30 years in the past made him sad…

Wait! Shouldn’t Bill be here too?

Before Stan could finish the thought, he was dragged across the snow by his ankle and lifted upside down by a long spindly black arm. Bill was double Stan’s size, and staring up at the man like he was a fish the demon just caught on a hook.

“Fez, once again you continue to baffle me. You’ve got zero chance against me without that deal’s protection. And inside Ford’s mind, my old stomping grounds? What were you thinking?” Bill’s expression was more bewilderment than of bloodlust for a moment. Then there was just the bloodlust. With no further ado, the triangle’s eye started charging up a massive laser blast. “Oh well. Any last words?”

Chapter Text

Stan dangled helplessly as Bill, easily twice Stan’s size, held the man above him at the ankle. A sinister glint in his eye, Bill inquired, “Any last words?”

Stan noticed he had clawed up a handful of dirt and snow as Bill had dragged him across the ground. On instinct, Stan desperately threw the clump into Bill’s face. Bill dropped the man with a shout, clutching at his irritated eye. Stan made a dash for the cabin’s front door, but the demon quickly cut him off with an “Oh, no you don’t!”, still towering above the man. Bill snatched at Stan, who narrowly avoided his grasp with a roll underneath and past the floating triangle.

Stan, knowing he couldn’t beat the triangle in a 1-on-1 in a blizzard, turned and fled into the cover of the woods near the cabin. Stan darted from tree to tree as Bill fired at him, and in tandem with the snow flurry, Bill soon lost sight of the human entirely and Stan was able to get a good distance away.

Stan panted behind a tree and gulped when he saw most of his fez reduced to charcoal from one of Bill’s shots.

In the distance, he saw Bill shout in dismay, scanning his surroundings for the human. The demon then continued off further into the woods, blasting left and right.

The man exhaled in relief, then noticed his breath cloud and realized just how cold he had gotten during the scuffle. He knew he couldn’t last in an Oregon snowstorm for more than a few minutes before his reaction time would slow down, even if it was all just in Ford’s mind. He had to get into the shelter of the cabin, and soon.

He then heard a familiar voice calling nearby, "Stanley! Stanleeeey!" Was that…Ford? Stan leapt down behind a stump and peeked over in the direction the voice was coming from. “Stanley! You must be out here somewhere!”

Stan recognized his brother in the flurry calling out to him in the cold. “Stanley! Stanley!” Ford shouted, “I’m here to help you!” Stan fought his immediate inclination to run towards the man, and as Ford passed from a distance, his head snapped to Stan’s direction. Ford’s face had glowing yellow eyes and face-splitting smile.

Bill’s Ford puppet stood still for a moment, eyes shifting back and forth like some reptilian predator in hunt. Then the figure disappeared into the woods again, calling Stan’s name in the most concerned, loving way possible. “Stanley, please! I need you! Let me help you!” In the distance, Stan could hear Ford’s voice then morph into Mabel’s voice calling out for him, then Dipper’s.

Stan shook off a creeped-out shiver, then snuck into the cabin. Stan was horrified to find that while some of the same features remained of the Mystery Shack he knew, the majority of the setting was strangely warped. Hallways filled with countless doors extended off in every direction; it was a mystery how all this fit inside the small interior of the cabin’s walls.

Right as Stan started forming an inkling of a plan to find the equation in all this, he was sent flying into the TV set to his right from an explosion that collapsed the front door and much of the surrounding wall. From the smoking hole emerged Bill, smaller sized in order to fit inside the cabin corridors. “Knock, knock!” Bill cocked his top half to one side as he turned to face Stan.

Stan threw his hands up placatingly. “Watch it, Bill! Be careful around here! Who knows what wrecking the place would do to Ford’s mind!” The man gestured towards himself, “I’m fair game, but keep this place intact like you found it!”

“Oh, what was I thinking?” Bill feigned politely, “Of course, Fez, scout’s honor! We couldn’t have me destroying this,” Bill shot a laser blast across the couch, lighting it on fire, “Or god forbid this!” as Stan ducked to miss a laser tearing along the wall and upper half of the TV set. That could’ve zapped his head clean off his shoulders, Stan held his neck. He looked behind him to find the back walls on fire and the TV screen cut clean in half.

“Y-You’re gonna burn up the equation at this rate!” Stan yelled.

“Then I best get rid of you as soon as possible, huh!"

Stan stammered, “W-What about Ford’s mind? There’s not gonna be much there to mess with if ya fry his whole brain to a crisp!”

Bill considered. “Eh, he’s a little too clever for his own good. I think I’d like him a little more on the braindead side, honestly. And I think I’d just like you a little more on the plain dead side!” The demon looked Stan straight in the eye and began charging up a laser. “Ha! See what I did there?”

Stan clambered to his feet, leaving Bill and the burning entry room behind. He heard Bill call after him, “Oh Stanley! If you be a good brother and die for me, I pinky promise I’ll still let Ford still remember his own name!”

Stan turned the corner into one of the winding hallways, overwhelmed in just how to pick a door to open. He picked one at random but opened it only to find Bill waiting behind it in the door frame. Bill showed the human his four fingered hands and whispered factiously, “But between you and me, I don’t have pinkies! Ha!”

Stan swiftly slammed the door in Bill’s face and charged through a second random doorway. Stan started going through door after door, hall after hall, just trying to lose Bill. Finally, when he felt he had ditched him for now, Stan stopped to catch his breath and take in the undertaking he had before him. Not only that, but while he may have lost Bill, he himself was also completely lost among the hallways.

Earlier, Stan had believed as Ford’s twin that he would know his brother’s mind better than this. When he saw Ford’s mindscape was the Mystery Shack, he’d been fairly confident on his victory, even. But this wasn’t fair at all! This wasn’t the Mystery Shack at all on the inside! How was he going to manage to find the equation hidden in these hundreds, maybe thousands of doors?

Bill began opening doors swiftly in waves along the walls. He could open most doors on a hallway with the flick of a wrist. He particularly enjoyed peeking into a room full of memories of Ford’s bad haircuts. Hilarious!

But now was no time for lollygagging! He still had a defenseless human to annihilate, after all. And it was still a race to the equation. Bill began speeding up his pace, searching memories at tens of times the speed Stanley could ever hope to achieve. As Bill searched, the demon began to consider just how he wanted to kill this menace of a man. With all the trouble he’s caused the nightmare demon, Bill wanted to make it hurt.

That’s when Bill saw the contents of one door he had opened and skidded his speeding flight to a stop. His eye crinkled in glee, “Aha! Now this will do nicely!”

Some 20 minutes had passed with no sign of Bill, or at least that’s what it felt like to Stan in the mindscape. Bill had been awful quiet, if he was around. Stan huffed and puffed, opening another door to find no equation. What Stan did find in some of these doors, were Ford’s memories of his earlier life with Stan and their parents. Only a glance, and a flood of memories would come back to Stan; swinging on the beach together, boxing together…Hell, he just passed by the door with the memory of the time they were chased down by the Jersey Devil in third grade.

Stan didn't push the door to this memory hard enough to latch it closed, and the ajar door creaked open again. He had already moved on a few doors down, so the memory of that night played on loudly as Stan combed through the other doors. He involuntarily listened in as he carried on, and recognized this part as being when Ford found out Stan had been lying to him all day.

“The Jersey Devil doesn’t have Pa’s gold chain he's been looking for! You did this whole time! Why did you steal it, Stanley? I trusted you! I defended you!” little Ford accused.

“I didn’t steal it, ok?!” little Stan confessed. “I was borrowing it! I was gonna polish it up as a Father’s Day gift! B-But I accidentally smashed the case it was in and got too scared,” he sniveled, “and, and embarrassed to tell him what happened.”

Stan heard his child-self hic, remembering the feeling of the ache in his little chest all too well. “No matter what I do, I’m not a genius like you. I’m a dumb idiot who screws everything up. Do you know what it’s like being the stupid twin?”

Stan continued searching the doors, trying not to relive the dejection he had felt in that moment. He tried in vain to convince himself that —over 50 years later— he still didn’t feel that way. Stan rounded the corner into another hallway when, “Fuck!” he jumped back and shouted in surprise. Once again, he was face-to-face with Bill Cipher.

“Tsk tsk! Language, Stanley!” Bill scolded. “You should’ve known you couldn’t hide from me for long! I can sense your brain’s electrical signals when you’re close enough.” Bill tapped his head. “But I guess I should’ve expected such a dumb move from ‘the stupid twin.’”

Before Bill finished talking, Stan had already scrambled away and rounded a corner to a different hallway. The sound of Stan’s own childhood sniveling followed him down the other side of the hall. Around the other corner, he found himself with Bill face-to-face again. Bill chuckled, “Hey you said it, not me!”

Stan jumped in surprise being so close to the triangle again. “Son of a bitch! Can you stop doing that?!”

Bill laughed, but the laugh seemed to echo throughout the hallways in an odd cacophony. It almost sounded like… there was more than one Bill… As soon as the thought entered his head, from around every corner emerged a Bill clone, looking directly at him. They soon started to encroach on his space, until Stan started sprinting down the only open hallway. The real Bill then emerged from the group, and as Stan tried to pick a door at random to escape, Bill would block them with a “Nope!”, “Nuh uh!”, “Try again!” Dizzyingly, the background was filled with child Stanley’s sobbing echoing off the walls.

Backing away from Bill and completely disoriented, Stan tripped over a rug that caught his foot, and he fell to the ground on his back. Panic set in as he was cast in shadow, and Bill was there floating right above him, the other clones not far behind. Stan grimaced, expecting the kill shot.

…However, Bill’s stare down at him wasn’t menacing, and Bill made no move to destroy the man. Instead, he continued just floating above Stanley, staring blankly. Almost… expectantly.

That was almost scarier than being incinerated.

Stan took this moment to scurry away on his hands and knees, then gained his footing and went for a door. “Wrong again, Fez!” Bill blocked him from the exit. He kept trying to reach for doors frantically, but Bill would impede him at every turn, like a cat playing with a mouse.

Finally, Stan clutched a doorknob and Bill stayed behind Stan in silence, approvingly. It was then that it dawned on Stan that Bill was leading him somewhere. Stan looked back at Bill in realization, and Bill chuckled quietly. “Well? What are you waiting for, Fez? Go on…”

Stan had no choice but to continue through this one door— Bill had him right where he wanted him. He turned the knob and opened it slowly. The room was completely dark, almost like a void. He stuck his head in the room, looking both left and right cautiously. He tried to see what was inside by the light from the hallway behind him, but it was still much too dim.

He suddenly felt a push from behind, and the door slammed shut behind him, leaving Stan in total absolute darkness. He turned back to grab the doorknob again when a spotlight switched on in the center of the room, lighting a small telephone booth at the center of the room. From the surrounding darkness, Ford as a young man, maybe late 20s, limped into the telephone booth.

“…Ford?” Stanley called out, but it was clear he couldn’t interact with a memory.

The young man, clearly looking disheveled and unwell, shakily grabbed the phone and dialed a number. His hands were clumsy and his breathing irregular. ‘Was Ford… drunk or something?’ Stan wondered.

“Hey, brother… it’s Sixer.” Ford slurred into the phone, “I’m going to take a swim in the frozen lake tomorrow, and I might not ever come back.”

Stan shot to attention. Ford was calling Stan in a suicidal moment?! Stan’s brows furrowed in concern. How could he have missed this call, when Ford needed him most!? Stan began to relive that self-hatred he had felt as a child in the previous memory.

Ford drawled on, “…So if you don’t hear from me, I just want you to know that…” Ford stifled an insane chuckle, “I never loved you.” The spotlight switched off as the young man hung up the call.

Stan stiffened in the darkness. “…Wha-? Ford? Ya didn’t mean that…right?” He whispered softly in concern.

A dark thought entered Stan’s mind. What was Ford really going to tell Stan in the guest room last night before Stan stopped him? Was it not the sappy speech Stan was expecting…? Surely it was! Ford wanted to sail away with him on their boat one day, didn’t he…? Didn’t he?! Stan bit his bottom lip.

Before Stan could grapple with his feelings, he began to hear a crackling electrical sound building up from behind.

Stan jumped and rolled out of the way just as a laser blast passed by where his heart would have been had he reacted a second slower. Stan turned around, Bill floating in front of the exit of the dark room, cornering the distraught human.

“Now that was cinema!” Bill clapped, movie popcorn in a third protruding hand. “I thought you deserved to know what your brother really thinks of you! Consider it a parting gift between you and I!” Bill looked down on Stan callously, “Your life ending as ya lived it: a ‘dumb idiot that screws everything up!’ Haha!” Bill then blinked, opening his eye to reveal a charging shot, “Now, it’s time to die, Stanley Pines!”

“Ford making that call never happened. It’s not real!” Stanley accused, attempting to veil his own doubt of his claim. “You created that as an illusion! My brother and I have had our ups and downs, but I know he still loves me! That’s more than you can say for yourself!”

“Wrong again, Fez! Do go on and cry for me, though!”

“You could create anything in this mindscape if you wanted! Hell…” Stan’s eyes widened in epiphany, “Anyone... could…” Stan looked down at his own hands.

At that, Bill sent a massive laser blast hurdling right towards him, but Stan batted it away with the back of his hand. The laser crashed through the wall of the room, allowing light to fill the now empty space. “I’m just as powerful as you in here, ain’t I?” Stan waved two finger guns at Bill obnoxiously, and from his fingertips came two laser blasts of his own. Bill narrowly avoided them piercing him right under his bowtie. “Whoa,” Stan grinned mischievously, “Anyone ever tell you that you’d look a lot like swiss cheese with enough holes in ya?”

“Funny.” Bill responded. Bill then fired another blast at Stan, only for Stan to disappear once the smoke had cleared. Bill momentarily considered he may have vaporized him, when suddenly Bill heard the man’s grating voice.

“Say Billy, you sure are taking the long route when it comes to asking my bro on a date! I don’t think the whole ‘world domination thing’ is necessary. Back in my day, we just passed our crush a note in class!” Stan’s voice teased.

Bill looked up to see Stan standing upside-down on the ceiling. The demon summoned another massive laser blast, and Stan was gone again. Stan then warped to the other side of the room a good distance away, standing at a horizontal angle off the wall, “You shy or somethin’?

Bill snarled, getting real tired of the ridicule. Bill hurled blast after blast chaotically in Stan’s direction. Stan warped slightly closer to Bill, continuing to goad with a “Who knows, maybe it’ll really go somewhere, and you can have your fairytale wedding!” He then created comically large, spiked brass knuckles over his hands. Then Stan disappeared again.

This time, Bill startled when Stan appeared right behind the demon. The last thing Bill remembered was turning around to Stan’s spiked fist colliding with his face, and everything going dark as he heard Stan’s chuckle, “But you know what they say about in-laws!”

Bill heard a ringing when he came to. The first thing he saw when he opened his eyes was a sunny blue sky out the window. Had… Had Weirdmageddon been reversed!? Bill shot up to his feet, to find he had been lying on a cozy bed. Bill looked around and recognized he was in the attic of the Mystery Shack. But… the attic never looked quite this… homey. A bean bag chair sat in the corner of the room, by a bookshelf filled with all Bill’s astrophysics books from the Fearamid.

Star-shaped lanterns of paper-mâché glowed gently from the ceiling. In his small form he was currently in, the room felt huge.

“Wakey, Wakey, eggs and bake-y!” Bill darted his attention to the lispy young girl across the room.

Bill pointed at her, “Aha! I found you, Shooting Star!”

Mabel giggled, “Found me in my own house, congratulations!” Before Bill could respond, Mabel swiped the small demon off his feet like a baby doll and was carrying him down the stairs. “We made your favorite today, Uncle Bill!”

Bill just now noticed drawings that littered the walls of the Pines family holding hands happily, and… was that… it was! A yellow triangle floating alongside them, arm waving. Bill then dialed in to what Mabel just said.

“UNCLE BILL!?”

As Bill tried to piece together what was going on while trying to push himself out of Mabel’s grip, Mabel had skipped down the stairs and the two arrived in the kitchen. Bill was greeted by Pine Tree sitting at the breakfast table with a “Good morning, Uncle Bill!”

And at the griddle, there he was! Fez! Bill laughed evilly as he started to charge a laser at Stan, but Mabel distracted the demon when she placed him down at a seat at the table and patted him on his top hat. Bill glared at her then looked down to see that the seat of his chair was elevated by some dictionaries considerately so that he could sit the right height for the table.

Fez, not wearing his usual button down and black pants, was instead wearing a slovenly tank top and, Bill hoped those were shorts… Stan turned to Bill with casual posture and a crooked smile, “Well, well, look who decided to grace us with his presence!”

Bill blinked, "Shouldn’t there be more lasers and screaming and—" but was interrupted by Dipper slamming a blue journal in front of Bill’s place. “So I remembered what you said earlier about a real prehistoric creature living down in Lake Gravity Falls, Uncle Bill! I was thinking you, me, and Grunkle Ford could go investigating it this afternoon.”

Bill’s eye went from Dipper, to Stan, to Mabel. His eye started charging another laser, “I’M NOT GONNA PLAY ALONG WITH YOUR IDIOT ADVENTURES!!” In his anger, the triangle didn’t notice the figure approaching from behind him, and Bill’s breath hitched when he felt a tickly kiss on his cheek. His laser blast fizzled, and Bill turned towards the transgressor dumbstruck.

“Good morning, Bill! Did you sleep well?” Sixer asked him sweetly, still bent down to Bill’s level. Bill looked the man up and down. He hadn’t shaved for a few days and casually had a little stubble that Bill hadn’t seen him with since their falling out 30 years ago. And the man was wearing the silliest striped pajamas set. Bill’s head went empty.

“Uhh… Um.” Bill garbled, his cheeks turning a faint pink. As Bill searched for the words, Ford and Dipper sat at their places beside the triangle and discussed Dipper’s plan for this afternoon. “That’s a great idea, Dipper!” Ford encouraged, “I haven’t been to the lake in quite some time! And I have just the sonar device we’d need.” Dipper nodded along proudly.

“Alright, enough adventure talk. Food’s ready!” Stan announced and brought plates filled with eggs, hash browns, and syrupy pancakes.

Dipper complained that they never had bacon anymore, and Mabel stated she wasn’t going to have the family ‘eat Waffle's friends,’ whatever that meant. Bill watched them all talk amongst themselves. This family was entirely beyond Bill’s comprehension.

Ford passed Bill a plate full of delicious smelling food. “The Pines Family adventures have really gotten more interesting thanks to your knowledge of the universe, Bill!” Ford beamed then held up a pitcher. “Orange juice?”

Bill didn’t know what to make of it… seeing the Pines family so happy and comfortable. And around him, no less! The demon nodded silently and watched as the man poured juice into Bill’s glass. Ford continued, “And tonight we’ll go stargazing! I believe you can see the constellation Andromeda some nights in the late summer.”

Hearing this, Bill felt a truly innocent excitement bubble up for the first time in years. He acknowledged how strange this was, as aside from Ford, only degenerate partying and causing suffering had really excited him for the past few centuries.

Bill chimed in, “Close, Sixer! But that’s more early autumn! Actually, Ophiuchus will be more visible in the late summer.”

Ford considered Bill’s statement, “Ah, yes, that’s right I suppose!” The man then placed his hand on Bill’s side and smiled, “You never cease to amaze me, Bill!”

Bill’s heart swelled at the compliment. Bill looked over the family gathered around, all listening attentively to him pleasantly, and he bragged, “I know a lot about your puny star system, ya know! You guys just never asked!” Bill lifted his arms animatedly, “In fact, I know most everything about everything, really!”

Ford smiled, “You never cease to amaze me, Bill!”

Bill’s excitement somewhat dulled, “Yeah, you just said that Sixer…” Then reality dawned on the demon. What was he even doing here? The equation!

Bill stood up on his dictionaries, slammed his fists on the table, spilling his orange juice. The happy family did not react. Bill began charging up a laser blast and pointed it across the table at Stan. “Nice try, Fez! I know you’re trying to distract me cause your sorry ass can’t beat me in a real fight!”

Stan took a bite of his eggs and commented like a broken record, “Alright, enough adventure talk. Food’s ready!”

Bill’s pupils shrunk. Fez wasn’t a real part of this skit here, which meant…! Bill blasted the whole scene away, finding himself back in the empty room of the previous fight with Stan. The triangle grew double his size, huffing and glowing an angry red. No longer using doors, Bill rammed through them in rage, and screamed out, “Show yourself, Stanley Pines!”

Bill stopped his rampage after a few minutes, leaving much of the mindscape home in flames or tatters. Bill had just sensed Stan’s electrical neural signals somewhere below him. The basement.

Bill burst through the floor and down into the basement level. The electrical signal was growing vaguely stronger as he descended deeper into the portal room. But wait… He was feeling 2 separate neural signals. Was Ford here too? Bill seethed. That’s cheating! And only Bill could cheat!!

But instead, Bill felt the second neural signal coming strongly from the portal’s control panel. Oh. Oh h'oh.

Bill shrunk down to his normal form again. Bill’s eye creased in total giddiness on his discovery. A being other than a literal dream demon might have overlooked it. The shack may be a metaphor of Ford’s mind, but every part of it was an actual component that made up Ford’s psyche. And these screens, buttons, and switches on this control panel? These were a central hub for most of Ford’s neural connections. This was almost like if Ford himself had a control panel! And neural connections just so happened to be Bill’s favorite thing to tangle up in unfathomable knots.

Bill started typing strings of simple code in the 80s-style computer, searching the software for all files he could find, inserting files into other unrelated files, changing .pdfs of family memories into wrong file types, causing them to show an error message when opened.

Then, Bill started corrupting all family related files indiscriminately. The “Mabel” file, wrong file type! The “Dipper” file, lost in another file! That hillbilly friend of his, “Fiddleford” too! But by far the most satisfying file to corrupt was the one and only “Stanley Pines” file. Bill laughed manically as a warning popped up, asking if he was sure he wanted to change this file. Bill enthusiastically selected ‘YES’. He considered deleting these files all entirely but decide not to. The psyche demon wanted to be able to pull out the memories of his family on occasion to tease the human with.

Then he searched “equation” only to find that damnable 'a² + b² = c²' pop up. Very funny, Sixer. It took a few moments for the triangle to locate the ’Bill Cipher’ file, and he left it as the only uncorrupted file on the computer.

The screen glitched, and for a split second the machine sparked. Ford’s fighting this, Bill noted. Reactions to manual mindscape manipulations varied by individual, but Bill looked forward to seeing what positive effects his little adjustments would have on his subject.

The triangle demon floated away from the control panel ecstatic. Now all Bill needed to do was kill Stanley in this mindscape, find that equation, and keep Stanford and his dimension all to himself! Bill could’ve drooled imagining the sorry look on Stan’s face knowing he had breathed his last, all while Bill revealed to him that Bill was going to keep his brainwashed twin brother as a lil’ spoil of war.

Bill was yanked from his daydream when heard the sound of shuffling in a small crevice behind the portal. Aw, Fez was so scared he was hiding! Could this get any better?

Checkmate Stanley, Bill muttered, rubbing his hands together in anticipation as he approached.

Bill turned the corner behind the portal, ready to end this back and forth with Stan once and for all. Instead, he was left speechless as he found a large white chalky smear against the back wall of the portal. Above the smear was the label ‘Equation to Escape the Barrier:’. Stan stood triumphantly, and dusted his hands of the last chalk powder. He gave the demon a big toothy grin, “Game over, Billy!”

“NO…” Bill muttered to himself. Bill then shrieked as the surrounding shack began to distort and fade away. “NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO!!”

Both Bill and Stan detached from Ford’s mindscape as soon as the race had ended and were warped back to the operating room. Stan wheezed to catch his breath. Stan couldn’t quite remember all the hazy details that followed, but he vaguely remembered waking up to a massive Bill, glowing red, and attempting all kinds of laser blasts and explosions on him in a fit of rage. Luckily, Stan’s protection held up again now that they were out of the mindscape. Ford surprisingly remained unconscious throughout Bill’s angry barrage of lasers and flame, strapped into the same position the two had left him in.

Once Bill accepted there was no vaporizing Stan to a pile of ashes, the man's corner of the room was smoking and covered in scorch marks. Bill snatched Stan by the shirt collar and shook him manically, shouting, “DAMN YOU, STANLEY! I’LL END YOU, I’LL—!” Stan pulled back his arm to punch Bill off when Ford started to rouse slightly. The two stopped fighting and turned their heads to Ford, quieted.

Stan lowered his fist. “Ya lost, triangle. Ford doesn’t even know the equation anymore. I erased it from his mind. It’s over. You’re never escaping Gravity Falls.”

Before the demon could respond, the two heard a soft “Bill..?” from the operation table. Ford shuffled in his restraints sleepily. “Bill?" Ford yawned, "What’s going on? Help me out of these, won’t you?”

Stan scoffed, pulled his shirt free of Bill’s grip, and approached his brother gently. “Pff, you must be sleepy, Sixer. Bill was the one who put you in those! Here, let me—”

“Of course, Fordsy!” Bill interrupted, and pushed past Stan. With a snap of Bill’s fingers, Ford was free and the man slowly stood up, leaning wearily with one arm propped on the table. “Boy, you humans sure are totally defenseless when you’re sleeping!” Bill teased, and gave Ford an experimental pet on the head.

Ford smiled over at him affectionately, with a soft giggling “Cut it out!”

Ignoring whatever that was, Stan stepped between them and grabbed Ford by his arm, heading for the door. Ford stumbled clumsily behind, genuinely asking his brother, “What are you doing?”

“What am I doing? We gotta get out of here! I’m here to rescue you from Bill and his lackies, who by the way, were about to saw your skull open on that table!” Stan pointed aggressively at the onyx table.

“‘Rescue me?’ I don’t… I don't even know who you are!” Ford skid the two to a halt.

“Ford, are you kidding me right now?!" Stan was getting angry and started dragging Ford. “You’re talking crazy! It’s me, Stan! Your bro—“ then Stan’s eyes widened in a terrible realization as Ford pulled against him. Stan turned to Bill. “What did… What did you do to him in there?!”

“Oh Sixer, you cad, come here!” Bill chuckled. Stan fumbled for words as Ford pulled away to march to Bill’s side. “You don't wanna leave me! Now ‘until the end of time’, ain’t that right, Fordsy?” Bill recited smugly.

Ford thought for a moment, then smiled at the demon. “Oh yes, 'until the end of time.' That’s what it was!” Ford nodded in agreement.

Chapter Text

“Aw man, what do we do Mabel?” Dipper sighed as he cautiously looked out the corner of the Mystery Shack’s kitchen window. “AUGH!!” Dipper shrieked, voice cracking, as Xanthar’s large fist crashed outside 10 feet away. Xanthar was making his usual rounds around the shack since he had located the children in it a little under a day ago. Mabel nudged Dipper from his crouch, and offered him a square of unprepared instant ramen she found in the kitchen drawer.

Very little food was left in the Mystery Shack. The shack had been ransacked at the start of Weirdmageddon by the group of townsfolk who were using it as a hideout. It appeared there were truly none of them left that Bill’s henchmen hadn’t wrangled up as soon as they stepped off the Mystery Shack property.

“I don’t know what we‘re gonna do, Dip…” Mabel said, “But you have to eat something!” She insisted, shaking the square in her brother’s face until he took it. It would be the first thing the children had had to eat all day.

Gideon interjected, “We’re safe in here cause it's got that there unicorn protection, but we’re already runnin’ out of food and water! I’m so dadgum thirsty I’m resorting to drinking your great uncle Stan’s nasty open Pitt Colas from the fridge!” Gideon wrinkled his nose after taking a test sip. “Pleh! How does he even drink this stuff?! It must be expired or somethin’!”

“They’re not expired.” Dipper noted, opening the wrapper of his ramen. “If they were already open it tastes like that ’cause he mixes it with vodka when he thinks we’re not looking...”

Dipper sighed and took a bite out of the starchy square of noodles. The boy had thought he could handle survivalism better now that he was officially a teenager, but he still found himself with no life skills or street smarts. Dipper bit into his lip; Grunkle Stan would know what to do. Not only that, but the boy also expected adolescence to make him feel more capable to combat these all these hungry nightmare realm monsters… But Grunkle Ford was still the guy for that. Dipper was crushed to find himself still the utterly useless kid at thirteen that he was at twelve.

Dipper closed his eyes and remembered what Grunkle Stan had told him before they separated from him. He told Dipper to keep his chin up. With an attempt to exhale out his self-doubt, Dipper then slowly inhaled and stood up tall. “I’m gonna go down to the basement lab. There’s got to be something down there that will help us get past that monster outside. Maybe a weapon or two.”

Gideon scoffed. “Weapons?! Ya kiddin’? We don’t have a chance facing off against that huge beast!”

But Mabel smiled over at her brother. ”Great idea, Dip!”

“A-Actually that’s a great idea! In fact, it was originally my idea!” Gideon stammered to correct himself.

“Don’t try to salvage your reputation now, Gideon!” Dipper confronted the younger boy. “Do you think anyone’s forgotten that you were the one who summoned Bill Cipher back to Gravity Falls in the first place? You’re almost as bad as Bill himself in my book! I couldn’t believe Grunkle Stan saved you from Bill when he inevitably turned on you! You didn’t deserve saving!”

Gideon huffed, “Y-Yeah, well…! Well…! He did save me and you lot are stuck with me! So you better get over it!” The two stared each other down.

“C’mon boys,” Mabel stepped in between them, “It’s the whole stinkin’ apocalypse. Can’t we all at least try to get along?” The boys pouted as she turned to Dipper, “Do you want me to come with you down there, Dip? It’s pretty dark and scary.”

Dipper finished his last bite and headed toward the basement with a flashlight. “Nah, I’ll be fine. I’ll yell if I need you. Just keep an eye on that big…purple…” Dipper waved his hand as he searched for the word, “thing.”

Mabel walked over to peek out the window again. The gigantic headless gorilla-like body walked around on all fours, each heavy step shaking the house. Gideon went to look outside the window with his crush, balancing on his tip-toes to see outside. “…Whaddaya think it wants? It works for Bill, don’t it? We’ll run out of food soon if we stay in here much longer…”

“Oh that thing’s definitely from Bill.” She looked equally concerned.

Gideon looked over his shoulder to make sure Dipper had left, then back to the monster outside. The young boy gulped. “Mabel, I know this won’t mean a whole diddly darn lot to you right now, but I wanted to tell ya… I’m sorry for all the trouble I’ve helped stir up. You didn’t deserve to be all caught up in all this…”

But when he looked over, Mabel was aloofly heading towards the front door. Gideon shuffled after her, “Where are you going? If you open that door, that monster’s gonna charge ya!”

Mabel rubbed her chin in thought. “Dipper wants to find some weapons to use on it, but I think we’d have more luck trying to befriend it!”

Gideon whined, “Befriend it? Really, Mabel?”

“Yeah! Sometimes I stomp around like that when I’m mad about something… Maybe he‘s upset about something and just needs some good old fashioned ‘girl talk!’”

Gideon cocked his head in doubt as he watched the beast rip a nearby tree from the ground and throw it half a mile off. “I really don’t think that monster will be all that interested in ‘girl talk.’ It’s probably not a girl, anyway.”

”Gideon!” Mabel gasped, “You don’t have to be a girl to enjoy girl talk! Why, one time Grunkle Ford said he was ‘too busy’ for girl talk, then I started giving him the low-down on Pacifica’s ugly earrings and her house haunting. Before you know it, we were doing face masks together while listening to Sev’ral Times! Such is the magnetic power of girl talk!”

“Don’t get me wrong—it’s not that your girl talk is bad, Mabel. I’m just saying… the thing’s got no mouth!” Gideon pointed out.

Mabel considered this for a moment. “That would make it challenging to try lipstick colors together…”

Dipper descended the stairs down to the basement with a flashlight in hand. With the unicorn hair protecting the perimeter of the shack, the portal was left on but nothing came out of it. Strange abstract shapes filled the opening of the portal instead. Or, at least Dipper thought that’s what they were until he noticed these shapes had dimension, and one of the shapes even spasmed. Dipper dropped his flashlight in fear when his eyes adjusted to find that the shapes were actually hundreds of smushed nightmare realm creatures! They all were trying to flood out of the portal, but were instead mashed against the wall created at the portal exit by the unicorn hair’s protection.

The creatures’ eyes—those that had eyes anyway—glowed in the dark watching the boy’s movements intently as he searched for his flashlight . Dipper quickly found the flashlight, his knees still shaking from his discovery. He gulped as they stared at him, and he continued his search of the basement.

He dared not touch the control panel to the portal, as one wrong move may allow those nightmare creatures to break through. However, beside the keyboard on the control panel was a scrawled up spiral notebook. Dipper immediately recognized this as not belonging to Grunkle Ford, since instead of fluid cursive the notebook was covered on every page front-to-back with a messy chicken scratch handwriting. When it was not written in some sort of childish code of skulls and bombs, the writing was so scrawled Dipper could hardly make out anything.

Of what the boy could make out, there were advanced level calculations and notes on astrophysics, all way beyond the boy’s experience in Algebra II or grade school science. Even without understanding the notes, Dipper was in awe of the writer’s prowess and dedication.

“You’d calculate this stuff all night then take us fishing the next morning, Grunkle Stan..?” The boy whispered as he thumbed through some pages. The cover of the notebook was written in that same strange code. Considering it’s potential usefulness at some point, he grabbed the notebook and stuffed it in his backpack.

The boy scoured the basement. He did find an old rifle with a strap tucked away in the corner. His finger slipped on the trigger, to find it was loaded when a *bang* resounded that left a hole in the wall. The child, intimidated, delicately unloaded it to ensure it wouldn’t accidentally fire, packed the few bullets in his backpack, and swing the gun across his back. Dipper was reluctant to use this against Xanthar. Not only was he afraid the shots would only make it angry, but Dipper also was also scared to shoot anything, honestly.

Dipper combed through the sliding cabinet and found the infinity-sided dice in its box. He remembered Grunkle Ford’s warning about the danger of the dice, and how it should only be used in truly dire circumstances. Dipper opened its box, and the glow from the dice illuminated the exhausted child’s dark circles under his eyes.

…If things really got much worse, Dipper considered that he might want to roll it…

Dipper shook his head. He couldn’t place the entirety of Gravity Falls at such a risk! Things were bad, sure, but everyone was alive and that’s what mattered. No temptation of infinite possibilities was worth risking mutating their dimension further, jeopardizing people’s safety, or just making things even worse in a way Dipper couldn't even begin to imagine! Yet… despite himself, the boy placed the box containing the dice carefully in his backpack.

Finding no other leads, Dipper headed towards the stairs, but stopped at the control panel to pull a photo of him, Mabel, and Grunkle Stan smiling happily out of it’s broken glass frame. He folded it sentimentally into his backpack.

He went back upstairs to find Gideon looking distressed and peering out the window, Mabel nowhere to be found. “Gideon, where’s Mabel?” Dipper demanded.

“I-I-I tried to stop her! Really I did!” Gideon confessed as he pointed out the front door.

Dipper heard his sister’s yell, and opened the front door to find the girl trapped in grip of Xanthar’s thick hairy knuckles. “Mabel!” Dipper cried, and summoned his courage to step out of the shack’s protection. “Get over here, Gideon! We’re going to need your help!” Dipper called behind. Gideon gulped, and trepidatiously tip-toed out the front door to follow behind Dipper.

Dipper handed Gideon the grappling hook from his backpack, instructing, “Follow my lead!”

Dipper ran out ahead. “Hey!” Dipper attempted to call out confidently, “Over here, you big headless gorilla thing! Bill wants me too, right?”

The beast turned the blank nub of its face to the boy and charged towards him. “Gideon, when he gets near me, I want you to shoot me with that!”

“Wh-Wha!?” Gideon stuttered.

“Just do it!”

As the monster closed in on the boys, Dipper dived out of the way of its charge, pushing Gideon out of the way with him. The beast slammed into the Mystery Shack at full force, then turned around clearly disoriented from the crash. Mabel wriggled in its grasp, but his grip was still tight.

The beast slowly turned to Dipper, and gave a blaring loud roar, but Dipper stood his ground. The beast used his free hand to reach toward the boy, but Dipper rolled between the monster’s legs and ran behind it.

“Ok, Gideon! Shoot me!” Dipper yelled out.

”A-Are you sure about th-?!”

”Just do it already!” Dipper held out his arms.

Gideon hesitated, but as the monster closed in the younger kid did as he was told. The pointed edge of the grappling hook careened towards Dipper, who caught the hook before it could extend further. As the monster made continued attempts to squish Gideon in front of it, Dipper began running in circles around Xanthar’s tree trunk-sized back feet; Weaving around them and in between them while pulling the grappling rope behind him.

Xanthar continued to concentrate on Gideon. “When you’re done with this I’m gonna kill you, Dipper Pines!” Gideon screamed as he was used as a distraction, barely evading the monster’s thunderous fist slams. The monster almost squished the boy when it stopped after hearing a “Hey monster!” from it’s own hand.

“Over here! Look at me!” Xanthar turned its nub head over to the calling girl in its palm. Mabel pulled out a nail file from her sleeve and began filing one of the beast’s giant fingernails. “Are you having a bad day today, mister monster?” She cooed, “When we are feeling down, we want to make sure we express our emotions in a productive way and not lash out at others. I know! Why don’t we start with some calming breathing exercises!”

“Mabel he’s got no nose either!!” Gideon face palmed.

“Oh yeah…”

The beast began shaking the girl up and down aggressively in its fist. Mabel started to see double from dizziness and garbled, “Oh there’s two of you now, mister monster… Twinning! Hahaha…!”

Xanthar turned its attention back to Gideon, who found himself directly underneath its raised fist. That was, until it noticed Dipper by its feet finishing a tangled messy knot around its back legs. The beast dropped Mabel as it lost balance trying to untie the messy knots that entangled its limbs. Dipper grabbed his sister’s hand as he passed her by, shouting, “Let’s get out of here!” Gideon waddled close behind.

Xanthar tried to get up and drag itself by its front arms, but the monster could hardly move without the use of its back legs. The knot would keep the thing occupied for a good amount of time.

The children kept running, as Gideon called out from behind, “We got gosh dern lucky this time, but we don’t stand a chance out here with all these weird things chasing us around!”

“And we lost my grappling hook!” Mabel turned to Dipper running next to her. “I hate to admit it, but Gideon’s right! How are we going to make it all the way out of Gravity Falls at this rate?”

The three ducked behind a large boulder once they were confident they had lost Bill’s humongous lackey. The kids all caught their breath, until Mabel finally conceded, “…We need our Grunkles… I wonder if they’re ok…” They all looked down at their feet and sat in a pensive silence.

Stan was stunned as Ford looked his brother up and down like he was some new species, instead of his twin brother. “Say Bill, this man really looks a good bit like me, doesn’t he?” Ford pondered.

“F-Ford?” Stan reached out towards his brother anxiously. Bill quickly ordered Hectorgon to usher Ford upstairs and away.

Next, Bill pushed Stan down Ford’s surgery chair by the shoulders. He locked only Stan’s left hand in one of the straps. Bill placed a notepad in front of the man, and placed a marker in his right hand. “You do realize I know you’ve seen the equation now, Stanley. Go on, write it down if you know what’s good for ya!”

Stan wriggled his left wrist, and seeing he couldn’t slide his hand out of the table cuff, scoffed, “You really think I remember that whole thing? It almost took up the entire board! Not only that, but there were all these strange, math-y symbols in it; ones I didn’t even know existed! I don’t have a photographic memory, corn chip. Sorry, not sorry!”

The Henchmaniacs started all peeking in to the doorway to watch the ensuing argument. Bill poked accusingly at Stan’s chest. “Don’t play dumb with me now, Fez! You may be the stupid twin, but we all know you’re a lot smarter than you let on! I’m not gonna buy that one measly equation went over your head when you taught yourself the mechanics and physics to reconfigure an interdimensional portal!”

“Oh, so suddenly I’m smart now? Is that what you’re saying?” Stan retorted. “I mean if you keep pushing for somethin’ I could really just write anything down and you wouldn’t know if it was right! We could go a few rounds that way, if you wanted! Would that satisfy ya?”

Bill clenched his fists, fuming. “You wanna keep playing dumb, huh? Fine! I’ll keep hunting down your snotty little kids! That’ll take you down a few notches when I find ‘em!”

Bill then thought of another idea. “And Fez, did you even stop to think: Ford doesn’t know the equation anymore! What real use is to me now? You’ve eliminated any reason for me to keep him alive! So give me that equation if you want your brother still breathing!”

“Oh, yeah right!” Stan rolled his eyes, “You won’t kill him!” he said, calling the demon’s bluff.

The Henchmaniacs in the doorway all cringed at the drama unfolding.

“And how you figure that?” Bill floated higher than Stan’s head, posturing self-assuredly.

“Are ya dense? I must’ve not been clear enough in the mindscape!” Stan spat as he leaned face to face with Bill, “You won’t hurt him ‘cause it’s painfully obvious that you’re in love with him, you sick freak of nature!”

Bill’s pupil shrunk to a pinprick. “I! AM! NOT!” Bill screeched, and turned inflamed red. “I’ll show you I’m not!” Bill looked back at his henchman onlookers too. “I’ll show you all! I’ll kill him right now if I have to!”

Stan dismissed him with a wave of his free hand. “Pff, you’re full of shit, Billy boy.”

“Bring Stanford back here immediately!” Bill bellowed to his underlings, morphing into something truly disgusting as he grew in size with each pulsation. Sharp teeth grew to surround his eye; his scalera turned black; his body parted into three sections, a tongue lolling out from each of them. The henchmen argued amongst themselves on who was going to get involved, all reluctant to become a part in the ensuing spectacle seeing how angry Bill had gotten.

Stan looked up at the abomination as Bill leaned over the table and into Stan’s face. Stan leaned back in his chair with his mouth agape. Bill snarled, his voice becoming octaves lower than normal as his form mutated further: “I’ll drag him back here, and I’ll kill him, Stanley! I’ll kill him right now!” Bill chuckled insanely, his sharp teeth flashing and spoke in a voice so deep it sounded almost like a growl. “I’LL EAT HIM! I’LL EAT HIM FROM THE BOTTOM UP ON THIS TABLE— RIGHT IN FRONT OF YOUR VERY EYES!!”

Stan’s eyes grew larger, rendered speechless as he watched Bill’s repulsive Lovecraftian form continue to grow countless eyes and arms. “…You’re really going to let Ford see you like this?! Now that you’ve worked so hard to wipe his mind clean, you’re going to immediately remind him of what a monster you really are?!”

Bill ceased his horrific transformation, his forked tongues dangling to the side as he panted, and redlected on Stan’s words. As Keyhole drew the shortest straw and started making his way to the corridor to retrieve Ford, Bill commanded him to stop.

Fez had a point, Bill mused. This was a rare opportunity where didn’t start out the gate hating Bill’s guts. That situation, at first, may prove better suited for his ultimate plan for the man. Bill deemed it wise to withhold his divine wrath for now, and shrank back to his unassuming yellow form; charming bow tie and all.

Bill strapping down the man’s other hand, making now both hands fixed to the table. Then Stan’s mouth once again disappeared off his face with a snap of Bill’s fingers.
“Mmph!” Stanley muffled.

Bill leaned in mischievously at Stan, invading the man’s space. “You’re right Stanley, I can handle a little good-natured ribbing from you! No need to get your brother involved! But I gotta say, Fez, this whole silent thing really is a good look for you!” Stan rolled his eyes as Bill grabbed on. “Let’s keep you quiet so you can think real hard on remembering that equation you erased. I’ll check back in tomorrow to see if anything’s jogged your memory! Until you remember, Ford and I are going to be spending some much. Needed. Alone. Time..” Bill emphasized the last few words in a slow drawl, glancing half-lidded over at the door Ford had left from. Stan wrinkled his nose in disgust.

“As for you, I think its high time my Henchmaniacs formally introduced themselves to you! They’ve been needing a new toy to play with now that all the townsfolk are stuck in stone!” Bill addressed his minions, “Tie this fella to a pillar in the Throne Room! Now you all won’t be able to hurt the guy, so how about a little public humiliation, bullying, or somethin’? Go on guys, get creative! Have fun with it!” The Henchmaniacs all giggled malevolently as they surrounded the man. Bill looked back over to see Stan ignoring the others, and glaring daggers directly at him.

“Sheesh, If looks could kill! Too bad they can’t, am I right, Fez?” Bill jabbed his elbow at the captive man.

Bill returned to his private quarters in the penthouse suite that evening, whistling whimsically down all the hallways. After spending all day seemingly confident and unphased by the events that transpired in Ford’s mindscape. Bill closed the door to his room behind him considerately. Bill stopped his whistling. His fist crashed through his mirror, shattering a hole through it and denting the wall behind it. Bill had been holding it in all day: His burning indignation.

The demon roared a deafening scream. He threw his human-skinned sofa across the room, exploded his grandfather clock into a rain of gears and springs, and snapped his marble chess table clean in half.

THE EQUATION! FORD NO LONGER HAD IT! The only possible way out was if that idiot Stanley remembered the equation from looking at it while he erased it! Stan had to know more than he was letting on! Thunderous crashing sounds and screams came from the room for quite some time that evening.

Once he had gotten that out of his system, the demon went to sit in the only piece of furniture in his room that was still intact: his recliner by the fireplace. He watched the flames dance as he recounted the face off with Stanley in Ford’s mindscape. How the human disrespectfully taunted Bill was infuriating in and of itself, but that was nothing compared to the ire he felt remembering the scenario Stan had created to buy him time to find the equation; that blasted scene at the Pines’ breakfast table.

Bill kept going back to it. The smiles on everyone’s faces, the sound of their laughter, their ignorant contentment in the simpleness of their insignificant life on Earth.

That was Stan’s first attempt at creating any false scene in a mindscape, and from the dream demon’s appraisal the level of detail and craftsmanship was admittedly impressive. Creating a scenario in the mindscape took significant raw talent and imagination. Ford had struggled with it for quite some time back when he played with Bill in the mindscape three decades ago.

Bill considered not only the technical prowess of the scene, but the tonality. The rapid shift from battle-to-the-death to family breakfast table was extremely disarming. What if Stan had imagined up a quantum destabilizer aimed at Bill while he was caught up in the scene? That truly could’ve been the end of Bill Cipher!

Would Stan believe that here, right now, Bill Cipher was still thinking about it? Stan had no reason to nestle the heartless usurper cozily within the Pines family, other than to appeal to Bill’s better angels.

He hated to admit it with all his being, but from a psychological warfare standpoint, the idea was nothing short of ingenius. Bill reluctantly remembered all the times Stanley had improvised against, persuaded, or just plainly out-witted his henchmen. And all this as a mere human no less.

Could it be that… no, no. Bill perished the thought. Stanley Pines was the failure, the stupid twin! Ford had always been an incredible exception to his weak-minded species.

But, Bill squinted into the fire, was Fez himself actually also something…

incredible…?

Bill cringed at the thought. Bill absolutely despised this man. He would love nothing more than to vaporize the man into a scorch mark he could swiffer up off the floor…But a little quick-thinking on one’s feet, a little natural talent in deception, a little psychopathic level of emotional manipulation… Bill stroked under his eye pensively. Wasn’t that exactly what his Henchmaniac team needed?

No! Bill would not think of it! This was Stanley Pines, the bane of Bill’s existence he was talking about here!

Bill purposefully shifted that train of thought. The equation. Bill knew Stan knew more than he let on, so Bill assured himself all was not lost. Absolute worst case scenario, he forces those damnable brothers to recalculate the formula with the threat of never seeing their kiddos again. Bill just needed to catch those brats to use against them as leverage again.

Bill’s train of thought was interrupted by a familiar voice. “H-Hello…? You… wanted to talk to me?” Ford warily looked in the door.

“Ah Fordsy!“ Bill had forgotten Ford was imprisoned right next door to him in the guest room, and that he had instructed Hectorgon to bring the human by at exactly 10pm. His grandfather clock was in pieces on the floor or it would have rung to remind him.

“Come in! Come in!” Bill noticed Ford scanning across the room, and remembered the tatters he had left it in. Bill snapped and returned the room to its pre-tantrum condition. Bill then dismissed Hectorgon.

When Ford hesitated to enter, Bill gestured to a plush recliner chair matching his own by the fireplace, coaxing, “Don’t be shy, have a seat!”

Ford made his way reluctantly to the seat, feeling awkward after hearing Bill’s temper set off for an extended period of time. Bill mixed the man a drink, which Ford accepted politely. Bill began to affably attempt to break the ice with the man, until he noticed Ford not listening and staring intensely at a dangling chain attached to the fireplace brick.

“Is there something wrong, IQ?” Bill pried.

“No, not at all… well I just… this room makes me unsettled for some reason.” Ford responded.

Bill swished his own drink and continued, “I called you here because I wanted to have a conversation with you. I wanted to ask what all you know about me..?”

Ford cleared his throat. “Well, I’m finding myself to be very confused recently. You told me I live here and this place does seem familiar, but it…” Ford scratched his head, “it doesn’t feel like home… I keep thinking of a cabin. And there’s these 2 children there. And then there’s… there’s my…”

Ford took a long sip of his drink. “It’s like I remember bits and pieces of my life in scattered order, but there are so many holes in it that it’s almost like someone’s gone in and cut out key details. Like how someone would cut a sheet of paper into a paper snowflake.”

“That’s Stan’s doing,” Bill replied. “Your brother, that man you met earlier today. I’m taking care of him...”

Ford perked up, the scientist's curiosity piqued. “Oh! So I do have a brother! Can I see him? W-Wait… My mind’s been actually tampered with?!”

Bill made a show to sigh in melancholy, “By your own brother, no less. He used the memory gun on you before I could stop him. I tried to stop him, Sixer, but was too late.”

Ford leaned forward to rest his elbows onto his knees and looked soberly downward. “Oh… That’s…awful…” But before he could ask why his own brother would do such a thing, he jumped at something rubbing at his shoulders. Ford‘s back stiffened and he lifted his head to find Bill out of his seat, floating behind him and slowly massaging the human’s shoulders. Something subconscious in Ford’s sympathetic nervous system told him to just not react and the triangle may stop on his own.

“Mhm.” Bill hummed politely in acknowledgement, “But that’s all water under the bridge at this point… What I really want to know is what you know about me? About us?”

“Us?” Ford repeated uncomfortably as Bill continued to rub his shoulders. “W-Well, I remember you were a very dear friend when I was a young man… But honestly, I feel like we hadn’t been as close since then for some reason.”

“Do you remember anything at all from the past few days?”

“Not really. But I can certainly try to recall as I am Mabel.” Ford lifted his head.

“What was that?” Bill prodded.

Ford cleared his throat. “As I am… able. As I am… as I… am… Ma…bel…” Ford fumbled over words, something about recalling the name ‘Mabel’ sent the man into a daze.

Bill removed his hand from the man’s shoulder to knock comically on the scientist’s head. “Hello? Earth to Ford! Ya there?”

Ford snapped out of his daze as quickly as it came. “Sorry,” he pulled at his turtleneck collar. “I don’t know what came over me there…”

“No worries, kid!” Bill went back to massaging the human, this time lower down, closer to his waist.

Ford tried to hide a squirm. “Um, uh, I appreciate you being so open with me, Bill. I actually have a lot of questions I was hoping you could answer if you had the time tonight.”

“Of course, pal! I always have time for you! But first, there’s something I’d like to ask of you.” Bill stopped massaging the man, instead leaving his hands resting gently on Ford’s sides. “I think it’s best then if we don’t beat around the bush too much.” Bill leaned in closer and Ford could feel Bill’s butterfly kisses on the nape of his neck. “I called you here because I’ve had a really terrible day, and I’d like to ask you for a teensy little favor to make it a bit better.”

“Um, ok. What can I help you with?” Ford stared straight ahead and took another sip of his drink.

“Wonderful!” Bill smiled politely. “I was wanting to watch you take your clothes off for me!”

Ford sputtered and choked on his drink. Putting it aside briskly, he turned his head to face Bill, flabbergasted and searching Bill’s face for any sign of an upcoming punchline. Finding nothing on Bill’s expression but calm expectation, the man chuckled uncomfortably, “I think I misheard you… What was that?”

Bill’s affable tone shifted. Bill gripped Ford’s waist tightly, causing the man to lightly suck in air. Bill studied Ford’s reaction from behind the man’s shoulder, amused at his bashful gasp. The demon’s eyes lowered, as did his voice. “Oh, I think you heard me just fine.”

Ford attempted to respond, but nothing came out. The grandfather clock ticked as the two sat there in silence for a moment.

Bill was infinitely amused at Ford’s dumbstruck face. It really was so obvious in hindsight, Bill admitted to himself. Bill had figured it all out when that false Ford from Stan’s breakfast table illusion had kissed him so casually on the cheek.

Bill had wanted to tear his stupid striped pajamas off and take him right there.

The puzzling emotion that was so strongly compelling Bill to Ford all this time:

It was lust.

Upon first discovery, Bill couldn’t believe it himself either. He had been spending too many centuries surrounded by these awful humans. He now had become *physically attracted* to one. Bill felt like a real freak discovering this new urge. And Bill loves feeling like a freak.

But this feeling he had towards Ford, the ‘something’ that everyone seemed to be picking up on but mistaking for something else entirely, no wonder he didn’t recognize it himself! Lust was a human emotion. Or at least certainly not Euclydian. Then again, Bill was always a misfit within his own species too.

But there seemed to be more to it than a desire to use Ford’s body for some kind of pleasure. No, this wasn’t a procreation thing either…

Bill drank in Ford’s rollercoaster of emotions as Bill lorded over him: the shock, denial, discomfort, fear. If Ford had frozen earlier at Bill’s physical contact, Bill was amused to find his human had moved on to trying for flight:

“I-It’s truly been nice to see you, Bill, but I really should be heading to bed.” The man stood up and out of Bill’s spindly arms and headed hurriedly for the door. Bill watched the man leave blankly.

As Ford turned into the hallway, the scientist began to feel nauseous, and his eyelids became heavy. The man leaned on the hall wall, sweating and huffing. Finally, his eyelids became too heavy and blackness enclosed on his vision.

Bill floated over to his unconscious human collapsed right outside his bedroom door. Bill raked over his unconscious facial features. No… This wasn’t about some drive for pleasure or procreation. Bill felt the most electric feeling rush down his frame when he imagined Ford in the heat of the moment, completely relinquishing all this stubborn insistence for control, utterly at Bill’s mercy. That was what excited Bill the most: power.

…

…

…It was just a sex thing! It wasn’t that serious! And most importantly—as Bill understood it—it was entirely fixable. Bill’s eye crinkled at the thought. No more with this emotion—with Stanford Filbrick Pines—being the penultimate distraction to all his plans.

Bill considered his options for a moment as the man lay on the floor unconscious…

Then Bill lifted the man, tucked his human into his guest room bed, and patted the man sweetly on the head. “I want you awake for me when the time is right, Stanford…” Bill made his exit from the room and the light switched off.

Chapter Text

“Got your queen, Fordsy!” Bill laughed, his eye closing happily as they played chess by the fire. Bill reached across the board to grab Ford’s white queen.

“Rats…” Ford scratched his head.

"You’re in check, kid.”

“Double rats…”

Bill looked from the board to Ford, the man’s brow furrowed in concentration. It had been a few days since Bill had made his first move with the human by the fireplace. It was just a test that night, and Bill was disappointed to find Ford still wasn’t keen on giving in to Bill on an intimate level just yet. On the other hand, Bill was pleased to find that Ford had become much more suggestible during these memory lapse episodes. Bill spent a few platonic days with the man and any awkwardness from that encounter was seemingly completely forgotten.

The demon was even able to gaslight Ford into believing that instead of being drugged that night, the man just couldn’t handle his space liquor. And hilariously enough, Ford just took his word for it! Bill watched as Ford’s eyes bounced from one chess piece to another, his chin resting on his folded hands. The poor guy was just so confused. Bill almost pitied the man; but can you really pity someone when you’re the one who made them so pathetic?

In conjunction with Bill’s gaslighting, it was plain to see Ford didn’t even trust himself anymore. His chess playing had been clumsy, erratic, and hesitant. The human would reach for a piece, then change this mind and withdraw his hand. His rookie mistakes had Bill capturing his pieces left and right. Bill patiently watched Ford breathe while he waited on the man to make a move. Bill studied the squint of his eyes, the motion of his swallow peeking out from his turtleneck, and the curve of his shoulders; all this in a way that was not entirely innocent. The triangle glanced at the chess clock. Did Ford know he had less than 45 seconds on his end?

Bill continued to consider his human. Ford, for the most part, had fallen into this new-found domesticity almost perfectly. The two of them had spent a lot of time together the past few days. Bill was deliberately rekindling their friendship, for motivations Bill couldn’t even understand himself. Like a cat playing with a mouse.

Ford bit his bottom lip in doubt while moving his king hesitantly to the right, muttering “You’ve gotten better at this since we last played.”

“Oh no, doll, you’ve gotten much, much worse!” Bill giggled, moving his rook up closer to the king. Bill was clearly the one playing offense here.

Ford moved his knight in position to take Bill’s encroaching rook next turn. “Sure, Bill, that’s why you lost every round we’d play together 30 years ago.”

“Aw, I lost on purpose back then!” Bill confessed. “You really think you’d win against someone who was literally in your mind? I knew every move you decided to make before your brain sent the signal to your arm to reach for the piece!”

“What?” Ford groaned. “Now why on earth would you do that?”

“It was cute to watch you think you had won.” Bill slid his bishop from his side of the board all the way across to finally capture Ford’s king, glimmer in his eye. “Checkmate!”

Ford sighed and knocked over his own king. “Good game, Bill.”

“I’ll always be one move ahead of you, kid!” Bill giggled.

“Come now, Bill. ‘Kid’? In my late 20s, I could stomach it. But I’m 63 now.”

“I’ve lived hundreds of your entire lifetime! You’ll always be my cute lil’ Fordsy.”

Bill balanced Ford’s white queen on an angle with his index finger, an amusing idea coming to mind. “Would you rather I call you my queen?” He teased.

Ford rolled his eyes. “I know you get a kick out of trying to emasculate me, but this one is a little on the nose, don’t you think?”

“Not at all! Your species’ strict social code on gender differences is funny to me.” Bill then balanced his black king on his other index finger. He brought his hands close together to regard the two balanced pieces closely. He then focused his eye past the pieces and back onto Ford across the board. “I mean, I’m clearly the king in this relationship!”

”Psh!” Ford scoffed, but made no comment.

Bill placed the two pieces back on the board, then floated up from his recliner and towards the elevator. “Welp kid, it’s been fun, but I’ve got to be going!”

Ford rose from his chair to follow close behind. “You’re heading out, my muse? Can I come with you yet?”

“You’re still not ready yet.” Bill brushed him off.

“Now hold on a minute!” Ford huffed, then ran ahead to step in front of Bill. “Bill.” Ford continued, “I’ve enjoyed spending all of this time with you up here, but I really should be going. I need to return to Earth! Don’t I have a life there?“ The man seemed genuinely uncertain at his own question. “I’m sure I did at some point…” He looked at Bill in deference, concern etched on his features. “How long do you intend on keeping me here? At least tell me, what is it that I need to be ready for, my muse?”

Bill snickered. What is it he needs to be ready for? How should he answer that? He couldn’t tell the man he wanted him on his knees at the demon’s every command; that he wanted the brainwashed man trained, accommodating, submitting. So mentally broken that the man was enjoying it. Bill’s eye subtly lowered from Ford’s eyes to what he could make out of Ford’s chest by the stretch of his sweater.

“Uh, Bill?”

Bill looked up again. “Yes! Returning to Earth! Well, um—“

Ford gestured out the window. “I can’t go outside, I can’t leave this floor, I’m stuck on what must be an alien planet…” Ford reluctantly muttered, “I’m starting to feel like a prisoner up here.”

Bill noticed that Ford had immediately assumed that Weirdmageddon’s shroud over Gravity Falls was not Earth but instead some distant planet. The human’s cute little brain must be working overtime devising schemas and heuristics to fill in the gaps left in his memory. The guy was coming up with answers that often didn’t really hold up under too much scrutiny. Bill had wanted Ford stupider, and now he certainly was.

“Shh…” Bill placed a finger over the man’s mouth. “And get out you will, when you’re ready. Would your muse lie to you? Trust me when I say I know what you need to become your best self.”

“You said that my brother is down there! What is his name? Is he ok? Can I go down and talk to him!” Ford begged.

Bill sizzled in annoyance at Ford even mentioning Stan, “Who cares about your stupid brother? Did you forget that he was the one who erased your memories in the first place? Why would you want to see a guy like him again?”

“I have to ask him why he did so! He may be the key to getting them back!”

“Not happening.” Bill pouted.

“But—!”

“No buts, kid.” The demon twirled a finger through one of the man’s curls then turned as he waved him off dismissively. “I’ll be back when I’m back!”

Bill left in the elevator and Ford heard it whir downward. Ford pressed the button to call the elevator back, but as soon as it left his floor, the button’s light dimmed and stopped functioning entirely; like it had done every other time Ford pressed it. The human rested his forehead against the wall, sulking.

Bill considered the situation as the elevator lowered. He allowed Ford full access to the top floor of the Fearamid, but of course the human was getting restless. It won’t be long before Ford started to resent Bill. Ford may even realize he is not a devotee under spiritual guidance, nor a patient under recovery, but indeed an actual prisoner. The one thing Bill had in his favor was that the brainwashed human trusted the demon to have good intentions. A fatal mistake.

But for as much metaphorical lip service Bill gave Ford about ‘not being ready’, Bill realized it was ironic since the demon himself was not ready to break Ford just yet. He would never admit to it, but Bill was delaying his plans for Ford simply because he was enjoying the nostalgia of spending time amicably with his former science partner. Bill decided in the elevator that he needed some time away from the man to recommit to the plan, or he might begin to feel inclined to keep being Ford’s friend, forever.

Then again, was that ever really an option? A friendship wouldn’t last if Bill kept him locked away in the Fearamid forever. Nor would it last if Ford learned that this was Gravity Falls (at least what Bill had left of it). A peaceful solution between the two was never in the cards.

Bill groaned. Look at how much time he was spending thinking about this stupid human! He couldn’t even enjoy his elevator jazz! Bill had a barrier to break, an entire dimension to rule! …But what king was truly great without a queen by his side?

The last thing Bill needed to happen was to let Ford and Stan see each other. If there was one person that could pull Ford back from the void Bill had programmed him into, it was his twin brother. Luckily for Bill, he had figured a pretty straight forward plan to keep the two apart.

Stan roused, his head resting uncomfortably against a pillar in the throne room. He groaned, the dehydration, nausea, and head-splitting hangover all hitting him at once. The Henchmaniacs had only stopped their alcohol and drug-fueled bender when they all had collapsed from intoxication and exhaustion. Trash, destroyed property, and glass shards from thrown bottles littered the onyx marble floors— Is this how they wanted to treat Stan’s whole dimension if they got out?

At the beginning of their party, the henchmen had asked Bill for Stan’s mouth back, phrasing it as wanting to “see if gramps could hang.” The monsters tied the man to the pillar, and treated his presence like a fraternity hazing. They forcibly poured alcohol down his gullet as they cackled at his increasing drunkenness. When that wasn’t enough, they then introduced multiple illicit space drugs to his system. Had Stan not already been an alcoholic and psychedelic wasteland for most of his life, he probably would’ve thrown up his own insides.

An unexpected perk of this unwilling intoxication, however, was that the partying had flown by in a blur of blaring rave music, flashing neon lights, and the experience of both good and bad trips. Stan was sure he had blacked out several times too, because he had no memory of how or why someone stole his right shoe. If the come down wasn’t so grueling on his older body, the party might have been admittedly a little nostalgic of his younger days (even the whole tied up part a couple of times).

But the come down was grueling. He squinted and groaned as the Weirdmageddon sun beamed in through the large stained glass window, overstimulating his already exhausted senses. His groan was met with a matching one from Pyronica, who was holding her own head as she slowly roused from having passed out on the beverage table. She glanced at the floor still littered with her unconscious gang members.

She turned to see Stan awake, commenting, “Oh… You’re still alive, huh? Heh, I guess you really are protected by that deal or somethin’.”

“You guys call that a party?” Stan retorted hoarsely, barely able to hold his head up. “You should’ve been on earth in the late 80s.”

Pyronica snorted, “So gramps can hang. Haha…” then she winced from her own hangover.

In the sober morning light, Stan got a better view of Bill’s giant throne of townsfolk. The view disturbed him as he recognized Sheriff Blubs, Lazy Susan, Manly Dan… Stan turned away sadly when he even caught a glimpse of Tyler Cutebiker. They even… got ‘im…

Pyronica noticed Stan’s expression sour. “Bill’s got everyone, ya know. ‘Cept your grand-niece and -nephew.”

Stan sighed, “I figured…” Stan then turned his head back to her. “Hey, uh, fire girl—”

“I have a name.”

”Pyronica…” Stan croaked, “What’s a guy gotta do to get a glass of water ‘round here?”

She quirked her eyebrow at the question. Then she turned to the water pitcher and solo cups by her hand. “You’re asking a Henchmaniac, and a literal fire monster, to get you some water..?”

Stan shuffled in his restraints awkwardly. “Yeah, I guess I was.”

Pyronica cackled, but grabbed a red Dixie cup from the disheveled drink table, and approached the human after filling it with ice cold water. He looked up at her, mildly appreciative. The monstress then proceeded to pour the ice cold water right over the top of his head. He yelped out in surprise.

“Here’s a tip for you, gramps: I didn’t become a Henchmaniac by being nice.” Pyronica smirked.

Behind her, Hectorgon laughed. “Good one, girl! Boom! Roasted!”

The Henchmaniacs all began to rouse, clearly not hungover enough to leave Stan unbothered. Smug and patronizing, they surrounded him like vultures circling from above.

“Well, well! Look who’s up!” Kryptos jeered.

“It’s our little party animal!” Keyhole mocked.

8-Ball scanned Stan’s eyes. “Heh, that’s the first time I’ve seen his pupils not fully dilated in hours.”

Teeth bounded up and down, “That was a fun party! Again, again!”

Pyronica sighed, “Nah, I’ve got a headache. And we clearly can’t party this guy to death or we’d’ve all gotten promotions this morning.”

“You can’t just leave me tied here forever!” Stan strained his voice to say, still dripping from the ice cold water. “Besides!” He lowered his voice, crossing his legs, “I gotta pee…”

At that, the Henchmaniacs all hooted and guffawed. Stan grumbled, “Well at least I know how to throw a party that’s actually fun, ya squares.”

“I’d like to see that, Fez!“ echoed from the seat of the throne.

The Henchmaniacs immediately silenced, fixed their posture, and saluted to Bill. “Good morning, sir!”

“Knowing how my gang parties,“ Bill regarded his claws mindlessly, “you probably ingested enough substances to kill a man or twenty. Too bad that pesky deal trick stopped it from finishing the job.” Bill folded his hands into his lap, “So, Stanley! Did you have any spiritual journeys on those psychedelics that illuminated your insight on a certain equation?”

“Ugh, your grating voice, can you quiet down?” Stan winced, “Where’s Stanford, Bill?”

“Jeez, you’re like a broken record with that line! I’ll have you know I’ve been tucking him in all nice and cozy in the guestroom every night. I even gave him a pat on the head goodnight the other evening!”

The Henchmaniacs laughed, interpreting that as a joke. Bill didn’t correct them.

“I’m serious, Bill! If you‘re hurting him I swear…”

“I’ll take that as you haven’t remembered that equation for me.” Bill sighed.

“Ya know…” Stan laid the smarm on thick, “I think it did come back to me last night.”

Bill leaned in from his throne, “Oh, is that so? Wonderful, Fez!” Bill poofed a pen and notepad in his hands. “Give it to me and I’ll let you see your brother! I’ll stop hunting down your runts as an added bonus! Pinky promise!”

Stan cleared his throat. “Ok, you writing this down? It goes ‘F’ plus..”

“Mhm, mhm!” Bill hummed, scrawling the equation down and repeating most everything Stan said.

“U divided by the square root of C, to the power of K”

“To the power of K, yes!” Bill exclaimed giddily.

“All in parentheses, then multiplied by Y, zero, and U.”

“But anything multiplied by zero is just zer–” Then Bill’s eye flattened as he read what he wrote.

(F+U/√C^K)Y0U

Bill ripped his notepad in half and rolled his eye. “Oh veeery funny, Stan!” Stan howled in laughter, kicking his feet childishly until he started coughing from being compressed against the rope bindings. The Henchmaniacs suppressed their own snickers.

Bill flexed his fingers, antsy. “Boy howdy, would I ever love to disembowel you right about now! But again, no can do. It’s really been bumming me out…” Bill stood up from his throne. “And that’s why I’ve made a unique decision today given the circumstances.”

“Lucky me.”

Bill continued. “I’ve decided you’re useless to me, a hindrance to all my plans, and ultimately just a huge pain in the ass.”

“Heh, my ex Carla said the same thing back in the day.” Stan sighed nostalgically.

Bill shrank down to normal size. The demon approached the man. The two glared at each other closely for a tense moment. Bill cut any tension by pulling out a dinky party horn from behind his back. “Wha-” Stan began, but Bill jabbed the horn in Stan’s mouth. “So great job, Stanley Pines! You suck so much I’m going to let you go free!” Bill blew his own party horn as Stan’s gasp came out as a stupid ‘toot!’

Bill celebrated sarcastically with a pop of a champagne bottle and summoned a ‘Congratulations, it’s a PEST!’ banner over their heads. His Henchmaniacs were all in quiet disbelief.

Stan spit out his horn, yelling, “What?! You’re letting me go?!”

”Yessiree!” Bill finger gunned Stan’s way. “I’m so totally done with your ugly mug! I genuinely never want to see it again, like, ever!”

Stan grounded himself from the thoughtless victory he felt, then looked suspiciously at the triangle. “There’s no way you’d just admit defeat so easily.”

“What defeat?” Bill scoffed, “I own your twin brother and your entire municipality! And soon your whole universe, once I get Fordsy to recalculate that blasted equation for me!”

Any excitement Stan had felt quelled immediately. “That’s an awful shame Bill, cause I’m not going anywhere without my brother. I’m not going to just move on without him, but you know that! What’s your angle here, Bill?”

“180 degrees, between the three of ‘em. Ha!” Bill snorted. “But no, unlike my angles, you’re right! By ‘letting you go’, I’m also going to leave you to fend for yourself out there in Weirdmageddon! I’d bet good money you’ll probably end up eaten or torn to shreds out there, a similar fate as you left for those brats of your’s.“

Stan wriggled uncomfortably when he thought about the kids again, “I-Its not that bad out there… right? Just a little camping, like Boy Scouts!”

Bill ignored him, caught up in his conjectures, “Who knows, maybe I can kill ya right here right now! If I drop you from the Fearamid, was it really me that killed you, or the landing?” The triangle shrugged, “Let’s find out!”

Stan could hear Bill laugh madly as the human was separated from the pillar by 8-Ball and Kryptos and lifted over a trapdoor in the floor. Bill approached a lever a few feet from the man. “So folks, a little riddle for ya! What does this stupid town and Fez here have in common?” The human flailed and panicked as the lackeys held him in place above the hatch.

Bill pulled the lever, opening the trapdoor. Stan was sent falling downward to the distant landscape below with a scream. Bill chuckled, “Gravity Falls!!”

Bill purposefully left Ford alone on the top floor for 3 full days. Ford, as planned, grew more restless and lonely than ever. He had quickly grown tired of reading, then he wandered around the art pieces of Bill (was that Bill as the Statue of David? Eugh). He was kept entertained for a few hours by trying to figure out what made the fire die then automatically rekindle itself again; must be some sort of combustion re-processing. He would intermittently press the elevator button repeatedly to no avail. When he gave up on that, he absentmindedly stared out the window, looking down on the strange world below. The man spent much of his solitude watching the hot pink sun rise and fall against the orange sky over and over again.

Ford had dwelled on what his muse could be preparing him for. What about staying cooped up in here would make the man ‘his best self’? Bill laughed almost every time Ford broached the subject, telling the man that when he was ready he ‘would know it’. Ford still felt like Bill was being unnecessarily coy. Maybe it was a test? A test of showing blind faith in his muse..?

All that was well and good if that was all to it, but recalling how Bill was when his temper was set off a couple nights ago made Ford reluctant to address when Bill’s caresses became uncomfortable for him.

“Honey, I’m home! Haha! How’s my favorite human doing?” Bill cooed as he exited the elevator. Ford jumped at the sudden interaction. He got up from the window and approached, a sour expression on his face. As he opened his mouth to say something, he was interrupted. “Aww, someone’s feeling a little grumpy today!” Bill squished Ford’s cheeks together, scrunching the man’s lips into a pout. “Well I have good news, kid! That nuisance of a brother of your’s, he’s moved on to bigger and better things!”

“What?!” The man shook him off and stood up. “Why would you do that Bill? You knew I wanted to speak with him!”

“No offense, Sixer, but the guy hates your guts, if that wasn’t obvious enough by him deleting your memories.”

“But why does he hate me? You haven’t even stopped to consider how that would be important to me?”

Ford stomped off to return to the seat by the window.

Bill blinked, then followed him, “C’mon, what’s the matter? Did I leave you alone for too long? You’ve got a bunch of science texts, snacks, a cozy recliner chair, and a great view! And don’t think I haven’t noticed that you haven’t even tried on your striped pajamas set I left for you! You have everything a human could possibly want up here! What else do you need, an exercise wheel?”

“I’m not a hamster, Bill!”

“So that’s a no to the wheel then, huh?”

“I’m not happy here!” Ford yelled.

Bill hesitated when he remembered when he had heard Ford say something similar before:

“I could never be happy with you!”

Bill’s eyebrow pressed downward in annoyance recalling that memory.

“…Well, what do you want, damn it?!” Bill shouted back.

Ford, about to yell back, decided to lower the level of anger in the room. “It’s just… I’m so lost, Bill. I don’t know where I am or why I’m here. I was excited to hear I had a twin brother, because I thought maybe he could fill this…” Ford searched for the words as his eyes became glassy, “this emptiness I’ve been feeling since I woke up without my memories. I feel like I’m missing half of myself, and I don’t know how to find it again. Do you know what it's like to lose everything, even who you once were?”

Bill stared out the window, fighting off flashbacks of his previous life on Euclydia. A life that was expunged from existence in a blaze of fire and screams.

Against Bill’s better judgement, he said the first thing that came to mind.

“…I’m your other half, Stanford Pines.”

Ford turned his head to Bill floating by his side, the inner corners of the man’s brow raised sadly. Wordlessly, the man shook his head ‘no’. Bill clutched Ford’s face in his hands, gently holding it still. Bill looked into the man’s confused brown eyes. “Stanford, I know what’s best for you. I can take care of you. I can make you feel whole again, if you’d only let me.”

These sentimental words were flooding out straight from Bill’s heart, and Bill’s brain was desperate to close the dam.

Instead, Bill wrapped an arm around Ford’s shoulders, gesturing out towards the horizon, “Together we’ll rule not just Gravity Falls, but this entire dimension!”

Ford froze.

“…Did you…did you just say ‘Gravity Falls’…?” Ford turned his head mechanically to look down at the world below, “You mean to tell me that this place, this is Gravity Falls?!”

Bill froze, realizing their game of house was coming to an end. Ford pushed him away.

“What… What did you do to my home, Bill?!” Ford cried as he rose from his seat.

“I did what we were always planning to do!”

“Don’t lie to me! I’d never want this!”

“Oh, you don’t know what you want! You never have!”

“The townsfolk who lived there! What happened to them? I..! I have to go help them!” Ford stood up again and stood by the elevator door expectantly. Pressing the button, as expected, didn’t work for the human. He turned to Bill, incensed, “Damn it, Bill, let me out of here!” Bill floated there in silence for a moment. “Bill!”

Bill snapped and the light blue cuff appeared around the man’s neck again, the chain in Bill’s hand. “What are you—?” Ford exclaimed as he was dragged back and pushed into the corner of his window seat. His hands cuffed behind his back, his ankles chained together. “Bill, let go of—”

But the man stopped speaking when he felt a caress on his upper thigh. Ford had just now noticed that Bill had let go of the leash with one arm and instead began thumbing Ford’s upper thigh teasingly. Ford jolted as the caress rose up onto his crotch and stroking continued gently through his pants.

Suddenly, the two heard a loud static buzzing sound coming from Ford’s skull. Ford’s head jolted. A light returned to Ford’s eyes that Bill hadn’t seen since before his race with Stan in the mindscape… since before Ford’s memories were erased. Bill had expected this to happen one of these days. Brainwashing wasn’t an immediate thing, and sometimes a patient will have their full memory return to them in brief episodes for the first few weeks.

The timing of it, though! Bill couldn’t have asked for better!

Ford came to, all confusion and hesitance erased temporarily. Bill confirmed this was the pre-memory wiped Ford by how he referred to him. “Cipher!” Ford looked down at Bill’s snaking hand on his pants, his nose wrinkled. “Cipher, damn you! Get off of me!” He wriggled in his restraints. “What’s going on? Where are Stan and the children?”

Bill covered his mouth while he continued palming his crotch. “Ah, you’re finally really awake, Stanford! I was wondering just how bad I must’ve scrambled your hippocampus in that race with your brother for you to not come to at all these last few days!” Bill laughed.

“‘The race’? ‘Scrambled my’—” Ford’s eyes widened in horror. “You mean to tell me I’ve been..!”

Bill yanked on Ford’s chain, causing the man to barely stay balanced as he fell to the floor on his knees, seated on his feet underneath him. Bill pulled his chain taut, closing the distance between them. “You’ll be so sweet for me, Fordsy! You’ll be my perfect brainwashed little queen! You’ll do what I want you to do, you’ll wear what I want, you’ll finally be what I want you to be!”

“You’re insane, Cipher!” Ford cried.

“And sometimes, just like this, you’ll remember everything—Pine Tree, Shooting Star, Fez, everything you’ve ever loved and lost—and all you’ll be able to do is cry until you lose yourself allllll over again! Now that’s comedy!”

Ford’s situation fully dawned on the man… Bill wished he had a camera. The demon pet the man’s head affectionately, “There, there, Fordsy! I’ll make you so very happy. Or, well, the new you!”

“Stan! Stan will stop you!” Ford asserted.

The triangle broke into a full-bellied laugh. “Pfff, that’s so funny, Sixer!” Bill wiped a tear from his eye. “Fez said the same thing about you not too long ago! You’re both just feckless idiots!” Bill tucked a lock of Ford’s hair behind his ear. “Now tell me, when is this whole ‘save the world’ thing ever gonna happen, especially if both of you think the other one’s the hero, hm?”

Ford was silent and stoic for a moment until he retorted, “...I don’t see you with any equation.”

Bill saw no humor in Ford’s little comeback, turning red and squeezed at the man’s cock through his pants. The human softly gasped. He turned his head into his shoulder, face twisted into an expression that was anything but stoic.

“We’ll see how smart you are when this lucid part of you dies off, and all that’s left is my little brainwashed toy!”

Bill lifted his head to face him. “Stan’s been jettisoned out of the Fearamid! Ya think he can survive the ten story drop? I'm not so sure! Your kids are gone too. You’re totally alone in here! It’s a shame too, cause I’d love to see the look on your brother’s face when he sees what you’ll have become for me! Ten stories will look like nothing compared to how far you’ll have fallen when I’m done with you!” Bill cackled. “And when I catch your kids, I doubt you’ll be Pine Tree’s role model anymore when he finds you licking my boot!”

"Cipher, I'll--!" Ford was about to say something back but was interrupted by another static buzzing from inside his skull.

Ford wobbled from the shock, losing all his memories with it. When he got his bearings, his limbs still restrained and Bill’s hand on his crotch, the man blinked. Bill noted that his eyes appeared more dim and his glance more distant than just a moment ago. “Bill, what are you—?”

“Playing house is over, Fordsy. You really want to know what I’m ‘preparing’ you for?” Bill unzipped the man’s pants. “Well you’re about to get your answer..!”

Stan recalled being dropped from the Fearamid, free-falling, and hitting the ground with a loud thud. It was not comfortable to land by any means, but he was ultimately unscathed. The deal held up. Bill still can’t hurt him, and gravity was no loophole.

The man was upset as the Fearamid’s shadow receded from above him. The contraption flew out into the horizon. With no way to keep up, let alone ascend back to it, Stan could do nothing but watch.

The man bent down to catch his breath. Bill had taken Stanford away with him. Stan kicked at the ground in anger, but talked himself down. He didn’t have time to sit around in his feelings. He had to pivot and determine what else he could do to protect his family during the end of the world. He could head to the Mystery Shack and make sure the kids were either ok there or confirm they had moved on to head for the barrier. Plus, once he made sure they were safe, they also had the grappling hook that could get Stan back up in the Fearamid!

Tracing the kids’ steps; that’s all he could do to try and help right now. Ford… Stan turned his head away from the Fearamid in the distance and grimaced at the thought of what Bill could do to him. Somehow torn when deciding to pursue his only option, Stan headed off towards the Mystery Shack. He muttered under his breath, “I‘m sorry, Stanford. I’ll take care of the kids. I can’t–” He swallowed down the lump forming in his throat. “I can’t be in two places at once! You’ll just have to hold out for me..!”

Chapter Text

“C’mon, Fordsy, don’t you want to wear your pajamas for me?” Bill knocked on the guest room door as he held up a pair of yellow and black striped pajamas. “I know you’re in there! Locking the door makes no difference in me coming in, sweetie!”

Silence.

“So why don’t you go ahead and open the door for me?” Bill asked. “I’ve let you pout long enough!”

Nothing.

Bill unlocked the door with a wave of his finger. He glanced over the room to find a breathing lump covered by blankets on the bed. “Aw, there you are! Cocooning like a little moth!” Bill spoke, amused, until something occurred to him, “Hey! You’re in bed without your pajamas on! That’s pretty rude, Sixer!” Bill harrumphed.

Bill tore the covers off Ford, And the man, fully awake, scooted toward the wall to back away from him. “Stay away from me!”

Bill tossed the pajamas in the man’s face. “Not until you wear your pajamas!”

Ford jumped up from the bed. “How dare you even talk to me after what you did!” He stomped out the guest room past the demon, through the doorway towards the elevator. He pressed the elevator button again, but it did not respond to his pressing. It was as though the motion was becoming more of a nervous tic than an escape attempt.

Bill watched the man press the button repeatedly in vain, his eyebrow furrowing in anger. “What I ‘did to you’? Oh, with the theatrics!”

Ford turned to face Bill. “‘Theatrics’?!” He balked, “Do you hear yourself? After you.. you..!” Ford didn’t complete his sentence, instead opting to press the elevator button frantically.

Bill dragged a hand down his face in exasperation, with an underwhelmed “It was a handjob.”

“That you forced on me!” Ford exclaimed.

“Oh please, like you weren’t loving every moment of it!”

“No, Bill, you were!“ Ford accused. “I told you to stop and you didn’t!”

“Now I’m no expert on human sexuality, but I think it’s safe to say you were probably enjoying it…” Bill ghosted the gesture of the handjob crudely with a sparkle in his eye, “…Especially when your cum shot out all over my hands!”

“Ugh!” Ford cried out, cheeks growing pink from embarrassment. “That’s not how it works! That’s not how any of it works, Bill! You have no idea what you’re talking about!”

“Well I might have a better understanding of these human things if this whole time you weren’t fighting me on literally everything! Things would be going so much better for us!”

“‘Going better for us’?” Ford repeated incredulously, “We’re not teenagers going steady, Bill! All this hasn’t been some silly communication issues! You’ve been keeping me locked up on this floor, pushing your will on me! To think you’ve been ‘preparing me’ all this time! For what? I may have lost my memories, but I know when I’m being used!”

The man’s building frustration from tapping the button peaked and he punched the wall in anger. “Damnit,” Ford hissed, rubbing his hand. His back still turned to Bill, he rubbed at the side of his head and lamented, “Surely someone out in the universe cares for me other than you... I just…can’t think of anybody…”

Bill glowered at the man. This was getting old. Why should he continue to put up with this? Him, the soon-to-be ruler of the entire dimension! He could certainly kill this man at any time for all his insubordination!

But then… The human turned to face Bill, a bitter expression on his face. Bill held back an aggravated groan as he looked into Ford’s brown eyes. Bill recalled glimpses of a time 30 years ago when they were truly friends. Bill knew he could never kill Ford. Maybe he should just… let him go…

…Let him go? NO! Not happening!

“I don’t think you understand..!” The anger in Bill’s voice grew less restrained. “Depending on the choices you make, I can either make you the happiest man alive or I can make you wish you were dead everyday for the rest of your life!”

“And they say chivalry is dead...” Ford deadpanned with an eye roll.

Bill’s anger steadily grew. “This is chivalry, you ungrateful idiot! That’s the difference between our situations, Sixer! I don’t have to make you happy, I don’t have to do anything for you! You do! You know why? Because I have all the power here! Darwinism ringing a bell to you, smart guy? The strong survive, the fittest choose their mate? Well I’m the strongest, and I’ve chosen you, asshole!” Bill poked forcefully into the human’s chest. “You are in my lair, completely at my mercy, and for no other reason than nostalgia have I attempted to regain your trust and friendship since you lost your memories!”

Bill lost himself in the rant, shouting out, “I don’t need to love you for you to have to love me!”

Stanford stood perfectly still, then slightly cocked his head. “Did you just say ‘love’? …Who said anything about love? You’d only want me to love you if… you…”

Bill threw his hands up in front of him. He floated backward away from the man, almost as if threatened. “N-No, no! T-That’s not what I was saying at all!” The demon’s eye darted around the room looking for a distraction. “Uhh—”

“But you said—”

“I know what I said! It’s not what I meant, damn it!” Bill turned red. With one motion of his hand, Bill had the human floating helplessly off the ground. A flick of Bill’s wrist, and Ford was flung into the hall where he crashed into the art pieces Bill kept of his likeness. Still dizzy from hitting his head, his vision doubled amongst the statues and portraits. Everywhere he looked he couldn’t escape Bill’s cold eye boring into him. The grown man shuddered.

Cornered amongst the artwork, Ford differentiated the true Bill from his images easily; Bill was angry, and he was beginning to transform into that grotesque monstrous form again. Bill used one of his increasing number of arms to throw the striped pajamas at Ford as the man crawled back against the wall. Bill’s eye began charging up a laser blast. “Now put your pajamas on before I put them on you myself, and I can’t guarantee you’ll keep all your limbs in the process!”

“Ok, ok, Bill! I’ll put them on! Just calm down!” Ford placated. Bill slowly turned from red, to pink, to yellow. The demon shrank back to normal with each iteration he regressed.

The human rose to his feet and took a step to pass by Bill with the clothing in hand. Bill stopped him. “Where do you think you’re going?”

“I’m going to change!”

Bill chuckled, and summoned his recliner to appear directly underneath himself. He lowered to his seat. “Nope, you’re changing right here where I can see you!”

“What?! But!? I couldn’t possibly—”

Bill’s finger sparked. “Now, kid.”

Ford swallowed, distraught. He looked at Bill in resignation, and tried in vain to ignore the the images and sculptures of the demon that flooded his vision. Ford was sure it was his growing anxiety playing tricks on him, but the eyes on all the portraits appeared to be staring directly at him too. A chill ran down his spine. With a stuttered inhale, he grasped at the hem of his sweater, and reluctantly lifted it over his head.

Bill quietly ogled over the man’s exposed chest. The man’s body had changed remarkably since Bill possessed him those thirty years ago. He remembered looking up and down Ford’s young body during one of his possession episodes, his frame that of a scholar, spending his time reading his books and escaping into his studies. Bill was now delighted to find that the man’s ability to survive the horrors of the nightmare realm for another full 30 years had shaped his body into something a bit more… becoming for a companion to the dimension’s new ruler. Bill even recognized some of Ford’s scars as originating from Bill himself during their falling out long ago. Bill sat in his chair, eye half-lidded, ignoring his compulsion to rake claws down the man’s pecs.

His old science partner was everything Bill had imagined he’d be, and that was only with his top half bare. Ford, clearly embarrassed to see Bill regarding him, went to put the striped top on. Bill stopped him by stating coldly, “The pants come off first.”

Ford turned his head away in a self-righteous revulsion, only causing Bill to turn his attention to Ford’s exposed neck. To think Ford had been hiding such a pretty neck under that silly red turtleneck.

“You’re disgusting…” Ford spat as he clutched the button of his pants.

“I sure am, Fordsy…” Bill drawled, “…and while you’re at it, drop the underwear too.”

Weirdmageddon had taken its toll on the ecosystem of Gravity Falls. The soil was parched regardless of how often it rained its black, oil-like precipitation. The trees that weren’t dead had curled and gnarled into strange sickly shapes, and there were no woodland creatures to be found. All signs of life had disappeared, aside from bizarre monsters lumbering around or swarms of eyeball bats passing by overhead in the purple night sky. The hungry water tower screeched in the distance. Stan called back to his skills from his criminal past to efficiently sneak his way through the twigs and alien foliage. He made sure to keep hidden away from anything that looked like it could eat him— which was almost everything…

Stan had no idea it was this bad out here or he would have never let the kids go it alone. What if something happened to them? He couldn’t live with himself if that was the case! He inhaled slowly. He had to put a little more faith in the kids than that. They survived a whole summer being chased by hungry zombies, or vengeful ghosts, or the next who’s-it-whats-its of the week. Not only did they survive it, they somehow enjoyed it! Those kids, like Ford, are just built different.

The only way the man was able to navigate his way to the Mystery Shack was by recognizing destroyed landmarks. Surely the government knew something was going on here from outside the barrier. Maybe FEMA was involved? Certainly the military at this point. But really, what could any organization do to fix this? Gravity Falls was done for. Hopefully Dipper and Mabel had made it out of the barrier, already calling their parents with some social worker in a refugee shelter by now.

Stan passed Lake Gravity Falls. He took a drink from it and caught a glimpse of his reflection. He hadn’t seen himself since before Weirdmageddon. He hardly recognized himself now. He had lost a lot of weight already. He still had his squared shoulders, but around his midriff his shirt hung off him like a tarp. Aside from his need for a shower, lack of his signature fez, and the sense of impending doom he could see written all over his face, he had to admit he looked more fit than he had in years. Stan exhaled through his nose. And to think, all it took to get in shape was the apocalypse.

Finally, Stan reached the Mystery Shack. Surrounding the shack, the grass was still green and the trees were straight and healthy due to the unicorn hair. Stan ran to the front door and opened the door. “Kids! Are ya in here?” No response. Wow, his home was in shambles. Stan didn’t care so long as he found one inkling of a clue that the kids had made it here alright.

“Kids! It’s your Grunkle Stan! I’m here! Bill, he let me go!” He shouted, panting excitedly. He looked around the room for any sign of life. He realized just how suspicious that greeting really sounded. And showing up without their Grunkle Ford? But it was true! Bill did release him for being a thorn in his ass enough times! What if the kids didn’t believe him? Stan cringed to himself. Hell, he wouldn’t believe him. Oy…

After combing most of the house and finding nothing but his destroyed possessions, he turned to the kitchen. “Hey! Who drank from my opened vodka Pitt Colas?” He lifted a can from the table, “I was saving those for later!” The man felt the can… It was still slightly chilled! Someone had been in here not too long ago!

Stan then heard a low growl from outside the window, and jumped when he noticed that the purple view from the window was not the sky, but the window view was blocked entirely by purple fur. “What the hell…?” Stan mumbled, and went closer to the window to find it belonged to some headless beast, its back limbs tangled up in the grappling hook! The kids had to have been here, and it looked like not too long ago either!

Stan went outside and tiptoed behind the shack cautiously. He recognized Xanthar as one of Bill’s lackeys. Stan needed that grappling hook if he was ever going to get back in the Fearamid and save Ford. But how was he going to get it back from that thing?

No ideas coming to mind, Stan called out plainly, “Uhh, hey, you…! Ya know English?” Um, ya mind if I ask ya which way the kiddos went?” The beast jerked in its tangles, giving a low growl. “Whoa, whoa! We both have a mutual interest in that grappling hook round your ankles— you want it off, I want it back. I think we can work somethin’ out here!”

The beast gave another low growl. Stan gave a whistle at the total mess of tangles around its legs. With how large its fingers were, Xanthar stood no chance of ever untying it himself. Good job, kids! “Tell you what; I’ll untangle you, and in exchange you point out which way the kids headed and I get to keep the grappling hook.” Stan looked at the monster’s gigantic fists and shuffled. “And, uh, I get at least a 10 minute head start if you’re gonna try to squash me afterwards. We got a deal?”

After a moment of unresponsiveness, the beast extended one finger towards the man. Stan backed away. It took a second, but Stan realized the beast was trying to shake on it. Stan extended his hand and wrapped it around half the circumference of its thick finger in a handshake.

Stan threw Xanthar one of his salesman smiles, “See? We’re both reasonable gentlemen here!”

The children ran screaming through the edge of the woods. They couldn’t seem to catch a break out herein Weirdmageddon… After escaping Xanthar only half an hour ago, the three were now being pursued by a giant gremoblin. The children yelled as it gained on them.

“It’s too fast! It’ll catch us if we keep running!” Dipper shouted, and summoned all his courage to turn around to face the thing. “Dipper!” Mabel cried out and waited on her brother. Panting, the boy grabbed the strapped rifle off his back. He scrambled to load the thing as the creature neared. “What’s the hold up?!” Gideon shrieked from ahead. Dipper aimed the rifle towards the gremoblin with shaky hands, sweating. His finger shook on the trigger. “What are ya waitin’ for?! Shoot the dang thing!” Gideon yelled. Dipper looked up at the fanged creature and froze in place. He still couldn’t get himself to shoot the gun.

Mabel noticed her brother freeze and grabbed his arm. “There!” She shouted, in a moment of quick thinking. She pointed to a small cave in a rock wall nearby. “That cave! I think we can ditch it in there!” She pulled Dipper by his arm, whose gaze was still petrified in fear. “Why can’t I just shoot the thing..?” He muttered to himself. Mabel glanced back to him with a gentle smile as they ran from the roaring monster, “It’s ok, Dip. Don’t beat yourself up over it!”

The children reached the mouth of the small cave just in time for the creature to ram against the outside wall, unable to fully fit through the opening. The gremoblin rammed the entrance, sending the kids rolling deeper into the cave. When their dizziness subsided, the three kids were plunged into darkness. Dipper pulled out a flashlight from his backpack, only to find this wasn’t a typical cave at all, but rather a tunnel system. Tunnels trailed off in most every direction, making the rock appear more like a sponge than a stone cave. “What on earth?” Dipper asked.

Gideon whined, “Oh boy, ain’t this just dandy! Now we’re trapped in a dank stinky hole!” The cave echoed hollow. “SHH!” The twins shushed the boy. The children sat in wait to see what horror lived here and would come to investigate.

Nothing came.

“Yeah, well, our exit to the surface is blocked by 1000 pounds of gremoblin murder muscle.” Dipper sighed. “Are we really going to have to go deeper than we already are?”

“I don’t see how we’d find a way out without becoming a snack otherwise… There’s gotta be a ’nother exit somewhere!” Gideon added.

Dipper turned to Mabel, handing her a flashlight. “You ok? I know you don’t love dark confined spaces.”

Mabel smiled back and clutched the flashlight closely. “Heh… don’t worry about me. Let’s just find a way out of here.”

The children stayed together as they traversed through the tunnels. “B-boy, Dip, Mom and Dad aren’t gonna believe the story we’ve got for them when we get home!” She laughed nervously, attempting to distract from dank darkness.

Dipper thought of his parents, and what he had overheard the night before they were sent off to live at Gravity Falls for the summer. “Hm.” He hummed.

Mabel paused, skeptical. “Dipper, you’re doing that ‘hm’ thing.”

“What thing?”

“That ‘hm’ you do when you know more than you’re letting on! That thing!”

“N-nuh uh!” Dipper hesitated.

“Yeah huh!“ Mabel accused. “What’s going on with Mom and Dad, Dipper?”

“It’s really not a good time for this…”

“Tell me what you know!” The girl insisted.

Dipper stopped walking ahead, and turned to face his sister sadly. “Mom and Dad… They’re getting a divorce, Mabel…”

Mabel gasped a quiet “..What?”

“Uh, guys…” Gideon interrupted.

“Not now, Gideon!” Dipper eschewed.

“GUYS!” Gideon screamed, pointing behind them.

The twins turned around, a 7 foot spider hissing at the children in the crowded space. “AHHH!” The three screamed.

Gideon ran ahead through one tunnel to the left, but the giant spider quickly blocked Dipper and Mabel from using the same exit. “C’mon!” Dipper directed, and ran down the right tunnel. The boy scurried up, down, left, and right through other tunnels until he was certain the two had escaped it.

Dipper propped himself up with one arm on the wall of the cave, “This is crazy, Mabel! How did that massive thing even fit through these narrow windy tunnels?!” He breathed heavily. He turned behind him to find Mabel not there. “…Mabel?!”

The boy panicked. He wouldn’t know how to get back to her with all the swerves he had made in the tunnels! He rummaged through his backpack for anything that could help, but found nothing. In his shuffle in his bag, he didn’t notice the photo of him, Mabel, and Grunkle Stan had slipped out. The boy changed direction to try to find his way back to his sister.

From the shadows, a monster of a different form watched the boy sprint off. On the floor, laid the photograph.

As soon as Dipper had fled believing Mabel was right behind him, the giant spider cornered her. The girl backed up, and felt her foot drop lower than expected. She looked down to see a tunnel, more like a hole, that dropped straight down into darkness. The girl swallowed, and jumped in the hole.

She called out for her brother as she skid down the steep downward slant of this deeper, darker tunnel. She quivered. She heard the spider hiss behind her from the previous room, causing her to dropped her flashlight. It went tumbling down the steep slope to the bottom where it landed with a clack.

As she began to skid down the tunnel, a narrow channel to her left grabbed her attention. Light was coming from that channel— could it be an exit?! She dived into the narrow channel, finding she could barely crawl through on her hands and knees. She scrambled through the claustrophobic space, and her hope grew as the light got brighter the closer she got. She started feeling a moist warm air coming from the end of the tunnel— A breeze!

The girl squinted her eyes as she approached the glowing light. In focus, the glow was not an exit but more like a light bulb in the middle of the cave. The breeze was coming out in intermittent puffs, almost like breath. Her hand slapped against something fleshy and wet. That’s when she felt the tongue. The girl backed away in panic, and shrieked as she narrowly avoided the snapping jaws of a cave creature, a light protruding off a stem of its forehead, not unlike an angler fish. The creature pursued her slowly as she shuffled frantically backwards on her hands and knees, unable to turn around in the tight space. It’s eyes glowed in the dark, its jaws snapping and missing her by a few inches each bite.

“D-Dipper!” She called out as the jaws grew closer by the second. “Dipper! Dippeeeer!” She cried. “Masoooon!!”

Right as it was about to snap her neck in its approaching jaws, she fell back into the wider tunnel. She tumbled down the slanted tunnel, hitting her head, scraping her knees, until she finally felt her landing on the hard stone cave floor. She had found herself in a pocket of the cave the size of a regular room; likely the total bottom of the tunnel system. Her flashlight lay a few feet away, casting the space in a dim fluorescent light.

She felt her world crashing beneath her. A few days ago, high school had been her worst problem! Now she was fumbling alone in the dark with Bill Cipher the ruler all of Gravity Falls! She remembered bitterly handing the interdimensional rift to Bill’s puppet’s hand. She purposely had put it in the back of her mind until now, but she let herself feel the full brunt of the guilt that the world was ending and it was really all her fault!

And now! Now her parents were divorcing!? The young girl had tried to keep her chin up through it all, especially for Dipper, but now it was just too much! She went limp on floor, hopeless and defeated.

A large shoe clacked by her head. “You alright, kid?” She looked up, the light returning to her eyes.

“Grunkle… Grunkle Stan…?” Mabel whispered.

Stan smiled down at the girl, “That’s right!”

She scrambled up to her feet, tears rolling down her cheeks as she embraced him. “Grunkle Staaaan!” she hicced. Tears began streaming down her cheeks. “G-Grunkle Stan, I was so s-scared!” She wiped her nose on her sleeve. Any efforts to quell her crying failed her, and she only blubbered more, “I missed you so much!” She leaned into him.

“There, there…” The man patted her on the shoulder. “I missed you too, dear…”

“We’ve got to find Dipper and Gideon! They got separated! There’s monsters everywhere down here and I can’t find them!” She openly wept. “I can’t see anything in this dark, and the world’s ending, and my parents are divorcing, and I don’t wanna to go to high school!”

The man looked around, his hand still on her shoulder. She threw her still quivering arms around his leg, “Help me, Grunkle Stan! I thought I was supposed to be cooler as a teenager, but I still can’t do this by myself!”

Mabel gasped in relief as Dipper came bounding in like an eager puppy from an adjacent tunnel system. Dipper sighed in relief! “Mabel! A-And Grunkle Stan!? I thought I heard your voice but I thought I was hearing things! I’m so glad you’re both ok!”

Grunkle Stan saw the boy, and smiled crookedly. “Good, I knew this would get the two of you to gather…”

Dipper sensed something was off, and slowed his approach. Stan turned his attention back to Mabel below him, a sinister grin on his face as he hovered his arms over her. “Mabel..! Mabel get over here!” The boy shouted to his sister. She turned her head from the hug to look at her brother.

Stan used this moment to ruthlessly trap the girl in a chokehold and lifted the girl in the air by her thin neck. With no time to fully comprehend the betrayal, her instincts kicked in as she fought helplessly in the air. “Grunkle Stan?!” Dipper‘s voice cracked.

“Stan!” Dipper screamed, disbelieving his sight as he saw their beloved great uncle strangling Mabel. Dipper leapt onto Stan’s back in an attempt to hold him back. “What’s gotten into you?! Let go of her, that’s Mabel!” But Stan only laughed darkly, yanking Dipper off and threw the boy crashing into the stone cave wall head first.

“You’re next, kid.” Stan chuckled, and returned his free hand to Mabel’s neck.

Dipper swayed in vertigo from the grown man’s blow. He couldn’t believe this would ever happen! Shaking his head as he heard Mabel hack, the boy began to frantically dig through his backpack for anything he could use. He saw the infinity dice.

The boy’s pupils shrunk. If he lost Mabel, Dipper swore to God, he would roll it. He would roll it over and over and over again! He didn’t care if there was nothing left of Gravity Falls, Oregon when he was through! He’d reduce the whole world to nothing if it gave him a chance to get her back! He shook himself from his growing madness.

Seeing that he had no solutions to find in his backpack, he whimpered and swung the rifle into his hands. The boy aimed the loaded gun at Stan. “S-Stan, I’m w-warning you!” his voice trembling.

Stan turned his head to the boy with a haughty laugh, the flashlight on the ground lighting the man’s face from below. “Aw, c’mon Dip, ya really gonna shoot me? Blow your grunkle’s brains out all over the cavern floor?”

Tears formed in the corners of the boy’s eyes. He reached shakily for the rifle trigger, but his hands were so shaky that he could hardly aim the barrel anywhere near Stan.

…

That’s when a large hand from behind the boy steadied the barrel and another ghosted over his trigger finger. Dipper’s finger on the trigger was pushed in, and the cave tunnels echoed with the deafening sound of a rifle shot at close range. His great uncle was shot in the head, and fell to the ground. Mabel fell in turn, gasping for air. Smoke billowed from the rifle barrel. Dipper quaked as the large hand removed itself from the trigger.

“It’s ok, Dip. You can let go of the gun.” The gruff but familiar voice instructed in his ear. “I’m going to take the gun now, alright?”

“I-I-I can’t let it go..!” Dipper cried to the voice behind him, staring straight ahead at the carnage he caused.

“Yes you can, Dip. You’re a strong kid.” Dipper looked behind him, eyes glassy, to none other than his Grunkle Stan’s understanding gaze. The boy sniveled, mechanically tearing his white-knuckled grip off of the rifle and allowing the man to take it.

“S-Stan? But I just shot you.” The boy whispered. Stan locked the rifle and swung it over his shoulder. Dipper watched in confusion and awe as Stan ran to cradle Mabel into his arms, who was still coughing and sputtering.

“Oh, Pumpkin! It’s ok, breathe for me, sweetie!” Stan exclaimed as he tenderly brushed a strand of hair behind her ear.

“…Grunkle Stan? Is it really you this time..?” She whispered hoarsely.

“The one and only!” He winked. Dipper watched the scene in relief, noticing Grunkle Stan was covered in his own blood, scrapes, and scratches from having to force himself to quickly fit in the narrow tunnel ways.

Mabel took a deep breath in and out. “For the record, I kinda had a feeling something was off with that fake Grunkle.” she bragged weakly.

“Ya did?”

“Mhm.” She closed her eyes and smiled. “I guess it’s cause he never called me ‘pumpkin’. And he didn’t smell like Pitt Cola and vodka.” She giggled, then hacked.

Stan laughed softly, “Nothin’ gets past you, huh pumpkin?”

At that, she rolled into Stan’s chest and began to bawl into his button down. Stan was surprised to find Dipper too holding onto his sleeve like a small child, tears streaming down his cheeks. Stan freed one arm to pull Dipper into the embrace. “I missed you too, kids.”

“It’s you.” A guttural moan came from the slumped figure of the false Stan. The false Stan stood up, half his head shot off, oozing a green slime. Stan pushed the children away from the gored enemy. The false Stan’s eyelids blinked horizontally, alien-like.

“You’ve changed, scientist. A pity you’ve lived so long. But at long last,” the horrifying figure laughed maliciously as it morphed into the Shapeshifter, “I will be the one to end you!”

Chapter Text

“You’ve changed, scientist. A pity you’ve lived so long. But at long last, I will be the one to end you!” The alien gave a deep, guttural laugh. “This will be even better than destroying those infernal children who froze me back in that cryogenic chamber!”

“The Shapeshifter!” Mabel and Dipper screamed. Dipper stepped forward. “How did you get out of the cryo chamber? Or the bunker for that matter?”

“You fools truly thought you could keep me contained all this time? Why, just below us sits that damnable prison you call the bunker. I have freed the other angry experiments who now lurk throughout my burrows!”

Mabel considered the statement. “You mean all these tunnels were made by you?! And those things back there were old experiments of Grunkle Ford’s?”

Stan turned to the kids, confused. “You kids know this thing?”

“You!” The Shapeshifter bellowed at Stan, his massive claw pointed accusingly, “You thought you could lock me away in that bunker for eternity, did you now? Well,” the monster gave a low rumble, snapping his claws. “It’s time I repay the favor tenfold!”

Stan turned back to the kids, confused. “Do I know this thing?”

“Don’t worry about the details! He can change forms into anything he sees!” Dipper responded. “And he thinks you’re Ford!”

“Grunkle Stan, look out!” Mabel yelled.

Stan evaded right as the Shapeshifter lunged at him, and Stan pulled the kids towards the tunnel route Dipper had come from. “Let’s book it, kids! We’ve got to find our way back to the exit!”

Dipper skid in an attempt to stop. “No, Grunkle Stan! The Shapeshifter said that we’re right above Ford’s underground bunker! There might be important stuff down there prepared in case of the apocalypse!”

“That’s all fine and good but I gotta get you kids to safety!” Stan continued to drag Dipper.

“No, Stan! I have to go down there!” Dipper cried out.

Mabel huffed along. “Dipper’s right! And there’s an exit to the outside from the bunker, too!”

Stan stopped. Considering quickly, he sighed. “A literal apocalypse bunker, huh?” Stan turned back towards the direction of the monster. “Fine, I’ll buy you some time to get there, but lock yourself into that bunker until it’s safe and I come get you, got it?”

“But Stan, I don’t think you can take on a giant alien Shapeshifter by yourself!” Dipper protested.

“Look, I got this!” He waved them on then turned to the creature.

“But Stan, you’re not—“, Dipper continued.

”Go!” Stan instructed. Dipper and Mabel proceeded down the only tunnel leading downward.

The Shapeshifter watched as the children made their way down the tunnel, then he addressed Stan. “Make no mistake, scientist, I’ll finish off your children once I’ve disposed of you…” The air was tense as the two glared at one another.

Then Stan smiled. Swaggering over to the Shapeshifter with his hands behind his back, he attempted to pat the monster amicably on the claw, but the creature pulled his claw away. The Shapeshifter, confused, watched on as Stan tried to make conversation. “Look, pal, I heard you don’t like a mister Stanford Pines. Well let me tell ya,” Stan gave a sassy flick of his wrist, “me neither! Screw that guy, am I right?”

“If by ‘screw’, you mean eviscerate, and by ‘that guy’ you mean you, then yes, you are correct.” The Shapeshifter responded robotically.

Stan successfully put his hand on the monster’s shoulder, “I think we’ve both fallen victim to a case of mistaken identity here!”

“You are not he? But you are wearing his face! You are wearing his skin as a token of battle?”

“Almost!” Stan chuckled lightly. “See, I’m his twin brother!” Stan lifted his right hand face up, “You want to eviscerate Stanford Pines…” Stan lifted his left hand face up, “He annoys the shit out of me…” Stan then looked back up at the monster with a wink. “We’re both reasonable gentlemen here!” He smiled. The monster scratched his head, clearly confused.

Subtly, Stan glanced back over his shoulder to ensure that the children had left the room. Seeing them gone, pointed past the Shapeshifter with a “What’s that?!”, causing him to turn. As the monster turned back around to face the man, Stan smashed his fist into the creature’s face. The creature reeled, and Stan showed the brass knuckles on his fist shining against the dim light, “Who am I kidding? I don’t wanna smarm my way outta this one. The way you hurt my grand-niece, you’ve pissed me off too much for me to not kill ya on the spot!”

Dipper stumbled deeper around in the tunnel until he arrived at the dusty bunker laboratory, flashlight in hand. Mabel was not far behind. Some of the overhead fluorescent lights were still functional, though most flickered, buzzed, or sparked. The constant change of lighting made for a difficult investigation. The children passed warily by semi-lit empty cages and broken cryogenic test tubes. They spun the handle of the vault door to the apocalypse bunker and opened it. The two kids jumped when they heard the sounds of a brawl above them, but pressed on like Stan had told them to do. Mabel swung the metal bar across the door, locking the vault door from the inside.

Dipper made his way for the emergency food reserves, emptying as much as he could stuff into his backpack from boxes labeled with different decades. “No wonder Ford was so isolated out here with Bill. Even I’d have thought he was crazy too, seeing all this.”

“We’re supposed to grab these supplies?“ Mabel stuck her tongue out, “Everything’s all nasty and covered in spiders.” She lifted a book off a dusty desk with two fingers, only to then set it back down.

“You heard Grunkle Stan.” Dipper chided. “We have to wait for him to come back. Who knows what kind of useful stuff we can find here.”

The Shapeshifter slammed Stan into the rock wall after hitting the man with a swift blow to the mouth. Stan kicked him off. The two circled each other slowly for a moment, until the Shapeshifter laughed, “You realize I can turn into something vastly stronger, scientist? But truly,” The creature squinted, “I would like to drain the life from your eyes with my own two claws.”

“I told ya, I’m his brother.” Stan spat blood from his mouth. They were about to continue the fight until they both heard a tip-tapping of light feet from one of the tunnels.

“Do I hear me Stanley Pines?” Gideon came stumbling over from a tunnel to Stan’s right. “Stanley, there you are! You’re an adult! You are now hereby obligated to get me outta this creepy ol’ place!”

Stan quickly turned back to the Shapeshifter to find that he was gone. From Stan’s left came another Gideon. “Don’t listen to him Stanley! Ain’t nobody on this side of the country that can do a good impression of me!”

The two Gideons started arguing back and forth with each other. Stan groaned as he heard Gideon’s grating twang coming from both sides. “Just what I need. Gideon Gleeful in surround sound…”

“You have to take me into the author’s bunker with you, Stanley Pines!” Both yelled at once!

Stan looked from one to the other and back again. He looked for any sign of the false one. With no luck, Stan sighed loudly. “Now what the heck am I supposed to do now? I pick the wrong annoying brat to take into the bunker and it’ll kill not only me but the kids off too!” He scratched uncertainly at the scruffle of his cheek.

Then an idea struck him and he smiled ever so slightly.

“Fine!” Stan folded his arms. “I’ll let you in the bunker with us, Gideon…” Both Gideons smiled. “But after I save your puny little butt, you’ve gotta surrender the best spot at the pool to me, every summer for the rest of my life! And when I die, you gotta designate a gold plaque in my honor to dedicate the spot as “Stanley’s Chair.”

“Ok.” the left Gideon replied.

“WHAT?!” The right Gideon shrieked. “Dang ’nabbit Stanley Pines, of course you good-for-nothing-grifter would try to steal my designated spot in my time of need!”

Stan gave a crooked grin as he charged at the left Gideon, and happily punted the child in the face, sending the boy flying into the far wall. The child figure fell to the floor with a thump and glared over with a horizontal blink.

Stan threw both arms in the air, “WOOO! TOUCHDOWN!” He then turned to Gideon, who was standing slack jawed at his side. “You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do that!”

Stan didn’t have much time to celebrate, as the Shapeshifter morphed back into his alien form, barely missing Stan as his large claw clamped shut. Gideon watched on in suspense as the two exchanged blows. At one point, Stan even surprised himself by punching the alien to the ground and finding himself on top of it, walloping the creature with blows to the head. Stan thought for sure he’d won as he kept at it, until he felt the Shapeshifter morph under him. Below him was now a younger Ford, as the Shapeshifter had known him years before. “Brother, stop! It’s me!” The younger Ford cried.

Stan paused briefly, but luckily, shook himself of his hesitance and punched the disguised figure straight in the mouth. The Ford doppelgänger scowled.

Stan gave a haughty laugh, “You’re trying to trick me into not punching you in the face and you turn into my sibling? Ha! Someone’s an only child!” Stan continued beating on the figure of his brother, and the Shapeshifter then began morphing into something larger, more powerful than any form he’d yet taken on. The creature was soon going to overpower the man with brute force.

However, Stan quickly reached behind his back to grab the rifle. “Gideon, look away.” He instructed of the boy as he aimed square for the morphing creature’s head. “This time, you won’t have a head left to regenerate!” The Shapeshifter paused its transformation, instead option to hurriedly morph into a smaller new form. Stan clicked his mouth in frustration as he recognized it.

“Grunkle Stan!” Dipper struggled beneath him. “Augh! Get off me, Stan! W-What are you planning to do with that gun!?”

Gideon, who had been covering his eyes, looked in between his fingers to watch in disbelief as Stan actually froze. The man bit at his bottom lip as the barrel of the rifle was aimed straight in Dipper’s face. “Stan, ya idiot!” Gideon shouted, “You know for a dadgum fact that’s not Dipper! Ya finally got the chance to kill it fer good!” Stan looked down on the boy squirming underneath him.

“I know that! I know that, damn it!…” Stan yelled back, switching the rifle safety off.

He pressed the barrel to Dipper’s cheek, his baby face scrunching as he shook his head back and forth. “Grunkle Stan, please!” His voice cracked in emotion.

Stan eyebrows knit in conflict, his teeth gnashed together as his finger pressed lightly into the trigger. Gideon’s eyes widened as he peaked through his fingers.

…

“Damn it!” Stan cursed, as he lifted his rifle’s barrel from Dipper. “That’s not playing fair!”

“Thanks, Grunkle Stan,” a wide smile tore across Dipper’s face. His adolescent voice deepened as he shifted from the boy to the Shapeshifter. The Shapeshifter then took the form of the hulking body of a Gremoblin, “…for being so stupid!” Stan, worse for the wear from the fighting, turned tail, scooped Gideon up like a football under his arm, and fled towards the bunker.

“You’re even more of an idiot than I thought!” Gideon’s voice shook with each of Stanley’s steps as he ridiculed the man.

“Aw, shaddap Gideon!” The man scrambled off with him.

The Shapeshifter watched them run off, and instead decided to slither back into the shadows.

Stan looked behind him as he sprinted and noted, “I think we lost him!” But before he could make any meaningful progress towards the bunker, he had skid to a stop. From one of the tunnels emerged the angler fish monster Mabel had encountered earlier, it’s eyes sickly white, blind, and mouth drooling around its needle teeth. It flopped towards them on it’s fin-like feet. “No good!” Stan shouted, “It must be another one of Ford’s failed experiments!”

Twenty-five minutes passed in the bunker, and Dipper and Mabel had finished packing all needed food stuffs. Mabel drew with her finger in the dust covering the place, waiting pensively for her great uncle’s return. Dipper began rummaging through Ford’s various notes the man had left in the bunker years ago. Dipper was enthralled to find archives of strange contraption designs, as well as pages of Weirdness theories. The two then heard a ‘wham’ hit the bunker door.

“Hey, kids! Open up!” Stan yelled from outside the door.

“We’re here!” They heard Gideon cry. “H-Hurry, that monster’s right on our tail!”

“You made it!” Mabel skipped towards the bunker door to unlock it.

“Not so fast!” Dipper shouted through the door. “How do we know that’s not the Shapeshifter?”

Stan yelled out, knocking frantically on the metal door. “We’re boutta be gutted by this thing if you don’t open it right now!”

Dipper shuffled in indecision, concerned.

“You’re gonna kill us if y’all don’t let us in!” Gideon shrieked.

“Mabel, sweetie, pumpkin! You know it’s me! You know your own Grunkle, dontcha?!” Stan pleaded.

Mabel sunk into her sweater. “I don’t like this Dipper… We can’t just leave them out there.”

“It’s not them, Mabel…” Dipper stated matter-of-factly, hiding his growing concern as they both faced the door apprehensively.

“Mabel, pumpkin! Ya gotta believe me!” the pair could hear from the other side of the door. Mabel bit her bottom lip in indecision.

Mabel then thought of something, “Answer this! What’s the name of the cutest, most handsome piggy in the whole wide world?” Mabel asked across the door suspiciously.

“Well, uh, you see, it’s umm…” Stan’s raspy voice morphed slowly into the low rumbling growl of the Shapeshifter “Curses!”

Then it became very quiet past the door.

The silence was broken as the two children began to hear a scuffle in the lab room. The sounds of glass breaking and metal creaking blasted from the other room.

Mabel then heard another Stan’s voice approaching rapidly from a distance: “WAFFLES! WAFFLES! WAFFLES! WAFFLES! IT’S WAAAAAFFLES!”

Mabel flung open the door to find Stan, with Gideon, in a direct sprint to the open door. Behind the two, was a horrifying amalgamation of both Stan and Gideon as though they were one entity mutated together: their eyes hollow, their mouths agape.

Stan and Gideon barely made it in the door as both Mabel and Dipper slammed and locked it right behind them. They could hear the Shapeshifter’s heavy crash into the metal vault door with a loud, comical *KONK*.

Stan huffed and puffed as he leaned against the door to catch his breath. The Shapeshifter on the other side could be heard bashing into the vault door.

“Guys!” Stan wheezed. “You won’t believe this, but—!”

“You’re not protected by the deal.” Dipper noted, flat eyed.

“I’m not protected by the deal!” Stan cried out, oblivious. “Dude’s kicking my as— butt!”

“That’s what I was telling you earlier! No one listens to me.” Dipper rolled his eyes. “Oh, hi Gideon.”

Mabel turned towards Stan. “Uhh yeah, silly, the deal only holds up for Bill and his henchmen. Regular old monsters can still rough you up big time! Hi Gideon.”

Stan put Gideon down, where Gideon then stood weak-kneed. The boy shook like a wet cat, still recovering from seeing the nightmare fuel of himself morphed with the man he considered his arch nemesis.

Once Stan caught his breath, he looked over the bunker and he whistled. “Look at all this. Stanford. That guy’s a total nut.”

Dipper shrugged, and continued to pack various notes, “It’s a good thing he was, cause look at us now.”

Mabel picked up a dusty notepad off a shelf and thumbed through it. “Ha, look at this doodle he made! Though it’s not very whimsical…” She sneezed, filling the air with a cloud of dust.

Dipper looked over at the drawing, his eyes growing large. “Th-That’s not a doodle at all, Mabel!” Stan leaned over above them to peek at the drawing. Dipper continued pointing along the drawing, “That’s the blueprints for Grunkle Ford’s Quantum Destabilizer!”

“In English, poindexter?” Stan prodded.

“It’s the weapon Bill destroyed when he first abducted Ford at the beginning of Weirdmageddon! It’s the only weapon that can kill Bill!”

Stan eyeballed the paper doubtfully, scratching his head. “You’re saying this sci-fi laser gun could really take Bill down?”

“Yeah!” Dipper looked along with him. “Ford almost blasted Bill away with it within the first few hours of Weirdmageddon, but he missed by just a few inches and Bill destroyed it. I never knew he left blueprints..! But…” Dipper squinted at the page, “But there’s all this strange code on the side, instead of instructions. I’ve seen that code somewhere before…”

Stan stroked his chin, leaning in closer. “...Those are instructions on how to build it.”

“Wow! You can read that, Grunkle Stan?” Mabel asked.

Stan took the notepad gently from Mabel’s hands. “I can.” Stan didn’t explain further as his eyes poured across the code of bombs and skulls. “He probably didn’t want just anybody to be able to build such a dangerous weapon, so he put it in code only he and one other person on Earth would know.”

“Do you know what this means?!” Dipper exclaimed triumphantly, “If we could figure out how to build it, we could stop Bill for good!”

Stan’s eyes followed along the code skeptically, “Now, hold yer horses, kiddo. These instructions are a bunch of sci-fi nonsense. It says right here we have to get a ‘positron turbine’ from ‘the underground alien spaceship’ he refers to as ‘Crash Site Omega.’” Stan dropped the notepad back on to the table, and it landed with a slap. “These are the ramblings of a Ford totally off his rocker. We still got bupkis.”

Dipper grabbed the notepad again. “No! I know where he’s talking about! He showed me where it was right before Weirdmageddon!”

Stan continued, “Let’s talk about this more once we find a place away from all this danger to make camp for the night. I’m sure that Shapeshifter is gonna try to catch us around on the other side with those tunnels he made.” Dipper stuffed all of Ford’s documents in his backpack—especially the notepad of blueprints for the Quantum Destabilizer—and the four made their way for the exit.

That evening, Stan, Mabel, Dipper, and Gideon had found a hollow indentation at the foot of a tall cliff that they decided to camp at for the night. Stan worked on making a small campfire to keep the kids warm. Like a desert, Weirdmageddon nights could get as cold as the days hot, regardless of the season.

“There it is!” Stan smiled as he got a spark to keep to the tinder. “Not too bad for an old man, huh Gideon?” He smiled smugly at the boy.

Gideon jumped at Stan’s attention, still working through some of the horrors he saw in the cave in his head. Gideon gulped, asking Stan bluntly, “The way you so easily punted a child’s face in… Stanley Pines, have you killed people..?”

Stan chuckled, “Only a few big-mouthed brats who try me one too many times.” Gideon went to bed soon after, stating he was feeling woozy.

The fire crackled, and the three Pines family members looked on while eating their reserve bars they got from the bunker.

“I wonder how Grunkle Ford is doing…” Mabel said sadly.

Stan averted his eyes as he took another bite. “I’m… sure he’s hanging in there alright.”

“Mabel and I haven’t seen him since he made that deal with Bill. The one that saved us all...” Dipper noted somberly. “Was he ok when you saw him, Stan?”

Flashbacks of his twin brother filled Stan’s head in bits and pieces: a chain leash, a whirring bone saw blade, a hard smack across his cheek, the bloody end of a baseball bat. Stan put down his food, appetite gone. Stan scratched at his stubble, his brows knit in concern. “…He was ok, Dip.”

“…I miss him.” Mabel remarked, looking distantly off.

Dipper’s bottom lip quivered, and both Stan and Mabel looked over at him in surprise as he began to cry. “I… I miss him, too..!” Dipper whimpered, a tear streaming down his cheek.

“Hey, hey…” Grunkle Stan tried to comfort him gently.

Dipper wiped his cheek and sniffled. “I’ve always been strange. Other kids called me odd and… and unlikable. Heck, Mabel was the only reason I had any friends at all in school.“ Dipper laughed bitterly. “But then I met Grunkle Ford, and he said he saw himself in me. And hearing him say that… That was the first time ever I saw anything in myself worth being proud of.”

Mabel shifted uncomfortably, “Dip…”

Dipper looked over at her. “I’m sorry. It seems like all I’m good for as a teenager is getting emotional.”

Stan put his hand on Dipper’s shoulder. “We all miss Ford. But if we get this Quantical De-Tangler—or whatever it’s called—up and running, we’ll have him back before you know it!” He raised his fist triumphantly.

The three sat in silence for a moment.

Mabel stood up from the fire, clearly near physical and emotional exhaustion. “…I’m going to bed…”

Stan snatched her before she turned away, “Not before a goodnight, you’re not!”

She giggled softly. “Goodnight, Grunkle Stan. I love you.”

Stan kissed her on the forehead. “Love ya too. I’m so glad you’re ok. Goodnight, pumpkin.”

She leaned into his hug, then headed towards the cliff side to lay down near Gideon.

Stan and Dipper watched her walk off. Dipper, in the self-hatred that often comes so naturally in burgeoning adolescence, next recalled how he had failed to save her twice today. “I couldn’t shoot the gun, Grunkle Stan. I couldn’t shoot the Gremoblin that chased after us. And then I couldn’t even shoot the gun when she was being strangled before my eyes! I still couldn’t just pull the trigger! I guess even at 13, I’m still just a weak little kid.”

Stan recalled that he too couldn’t shoot the gun earlier when needed to, which was terribly unlike him. “Don’t underestimate yourself, Dip. Folks like me, they’ll try to shoot and ask questions later cause sometimes that’s what it takes. You and your sister, you’re more like your Grunkle Ford. No matter how gross or evil these creatures are, you see the good in ’em. You kids, you love things that the world looks at with fear and disgust. I wouldn’t trade that kind of compassion for all the strength in the world.”

The fire crackled and Dipper smiled over at his great uncle. “I can think of a few ways I’d want to be like you, too, Stan.” The two shared a comfortable moment.

“Alright, it’s time for you to get some sleep.” Stan noogied the boy through his hat. “You’ve had a rough go at it these past few days.”

Dipper laughed, then got up to head to bed.

“Goodnight, Stan. And thanks.”

“Don’t mention it. Night, Dip.”

Dipper approached the indentation in the cliff where Mabel and Gideon were sleeping. He laid his head down on his backpack, then noticed the inside of it was glowing. The infinity dice was still in there, buried under all the notes and new supplies.

Dipper shivered when he recalled his spiraling with the dice in hand in the burrows. Should he tell Stan that he had it? Or should he keep it as his one and only fail-safe should Weirdmageddon take everything from him? Dipper guiltily decided to keep its existence to himself for now, acknowledging it was just another can he could kick down the road. The boy closed his eyes and drifted to sleep.

From an enclave in the cliff above, the Shapeshifter watched on. The monster had determined that the man he faced today was indeed not the scientist—he was much too stupid to be the author. However, where there was the scientist’s family, surely the scientist wouldn’t be too far for long. The Shapeshifter decided to trail the family, and lie in wait until the scientist inevitably showed up. Then, only then, would he finally have his revenge on them all.

Meanwhile, in the annals of Ford’s mindscape, the control panel beeped and sparked. Smoke began to rise from the metaphorical computer. The screen short circuited, only to turn on again to deliver an ‘ERROR’ message.

In a corner of the guest room, the scientist rocked and clutched at his head in agony. His limbs—when not his entire body—began to convulse violently. Flashes of faces came and went through his mind; images of a fez, of braces, of a ball cap… of a swing set, of a chip bag by a high school project, of a yellow triangle dangling above his crib. His emotions bled into one another, feeling love and hate, fear and fury, agony and grief cycling within milliseconds of eachother. Memories of his life played through a static haze, all speech garbled and the details scrambled in incorrect chronological order. His head felt like it would explode. The scientist bit at his own hand to keep from screaming out. What did his mother’s face look like? Who was he, anyway? The man’s pupils shrunk in realization. He couldn’t… He couldn’t remember his own name.

Chapter Text

“Hey, Sixer! I have a question for you!” Bill called out, busting through the guest room door. The demon no longer saw the point in knocking, seeing as Ford would leave it locked and unanswered every time Bill greeted politely. In his hand he held his ‘The Love Triangle’ romance novel. “So I’m reading this book to better understand human sex, for no reason really!” Bill giggled, then cocked his top half curiously, “Fordsy, what exactly is a blow job?”

Bill asked innocently enough into the guest room, but his air of levity was dampened when he found his human sitting in a corner of the room behind the bed, the grown man holding his head and quivering. “Uh… Fordsy?”

Ford looked up from his curled position, tears welling up in his eyes. Bill was caught off guard seeing the man so emotionally… vulnerable. Aww, Bill considered, Fordsy looked so cute when he was crying. He should make him do it more!

Ford spoke in a strange garble, his pupils expanding and shrinking uncannily. “?lliB ?ti t’nsi ,eman ruoy s’tahT !enim wonk t’nod I fi eman ruoy wonk I od yhW? ?!eman ym si tahW”

”Whoa!” Bill’s eye widened, “Are you having a stroke?” Bill snapped his fingers in disappointment. “Aw man! I’m never in a head at the right time to see those fireworks happen!” He then approached Ford with intrigue.

“!struh tI …struh tI.. !deah yM!” Ford let go of his tight grip on his own head and reached out to Bill. Bill, expecting an attack, floated aside half-heartedly, only to find Ford had instead reached out and clung to the demon. The man quivered in Bill’s arms. Bill raised his brow, the contact not unwelcome, but puzzling none-the-less. “Aw,” Bill cooed patronizingly, “What all’s goin’ on up in that noggin there, little fella?” He stroked the man’s scalp like one would pet a scared lost dog.

The human looked up at him imploringly, “!pots naip eht ekam esaelP !siht ekil evil t’nac I” Bill watched on in interest as a quite literal spark flew from Ford’s ear. Bill moved in closer to the man’s head, and heard the slightest zapping sound echoing from within the man’s very skull. Ford dropped his head into Bill’s side releasing a short sob.

Bill was much too enthralled to feel much pity for his poor human. The psychopathic thing that he was, Bill was instead exceedingly fascinated by this development. Sure, his favorite human was crying out in searing pain—begging for Bill’s help even—but in all Bill’s millennias, he’d never seen a reaction like this to mind manipulation. Bill tried to parse what made Ford different than all the other thousands of minds he had manipulated in the past. Was it that Ford was a genius among his species? Was it the interference of some sort of traumatic brain injury Ford may have gotten in the nightmare realm? Then it clicked for Bill; It had to be that metal plate in his head! It was messing with his brains sparking electrical signals, which were already glitching from the mind manipulation!

He looked down at Ford’s reaction… The man was clearly in a physical or mental distress unlike anything Bill had seen him wear. Ford looked up at the demon, desperate and pleading, and Bill looked down on the man with apparent compassion. “Shh, shh, it’s ok sweetie.” Bill comforted gently as he lovingly wiped a tear from the man’s cheek. On another spark in his skull, Ford buried himself back in Bill’s side. With Ford not looking, Bill’s eye crinkled devilishly. A tongue emerged from his bottom lid to lick at the delicious tear on his finger.

Bill lifted Ford’s chin. “I hate to see you so upset! Sounds like it ain’t all alright upstairs… But you’re in luck, cause I can help you!”

Ford hicced, listening as closely as able with the zapping thundering in his head.

Bill extended a glowing hand, “Let me in your head and I’ll fix you all up!”

Ford hesitated, but then a particularly loud shock zapped through his nervous system and without much logical thought, Ford reached desperately to shake Bill’s hand. As their hands almost touched, however, Bill cruelly jerked his away. “—Whenever I need, for whatever I want. I want unlimited access to your mind, forever!” Bill then lowered his glowing hand again, this deal with new stipulations.

Betrayal was written on Ford’s face as he frantically shook his head, but another spark flew out his other ear causing the man to cry out as he held his head, quaking. Bill’s pupil grew as he watched Ford reach for Bill’s glowing hand. Yes! Bill suppressed a cackle. Ford would finally be exactly what Bill wanted him to be! Things were finally going his way! All he needed was for Ford to shake. His. Han—

Ford’s hand missed Bill’s palm as the man collapsed unconscious in a slump on the floor. “No…” Bill’s brow furrowed. “No, NO!” Bill grabbed at Ford’s limp hand and shook it manicly. “Oh no ya don’t! You’re not getting out of this one! We’re shaking on it!” With Ford having passed out, the deal would not go through. “Fuck!” Bill hissed.

Ford awoke to the sound of a crackling fireplace. He opened his eyes and noticed he was in Bill’s bedroom, and he was quite comfortable, honestly. The excruciating pain in his head was completely gone! The man reclined further into a plush mattress only to put two-and-two together. His eyes shot open again. He was on Bill’s bed. What’s worse, he felt a weight on his chest.

Ford looked down to his horror to find Bill laid down on Ford’s stomach, having been watching his captive sleep. Bill, on the other hand, found that he liked lying on Ford. He liked to feel the man’s chest rise and fall with his breathing… He liked to feel the human's heartbeat speed up as it slowly dawned on him that he was cuddling with his worst enemy.

The man bolted up from the pillows that propped him up at a slight angle, causing Bill to slide down to Ford’s legs. “Hey!” Bill complained.

Ford grabbed at the comforter on top of him, pulling it up to form a wall between them. “Bill! What are you doing?! What am I..?” Ford sighed in relief when he looked down at himself to confirm he was still fully clothed.

“Get your mind outta the gutter, Sixer!” Bill flicked at Ford’s nose. “We were snuggling, sheesh!”

“‘Snuggling’? You’re delusional if you think I’d want to ‘snuggle’ with you!” Ford swung his legs off the side of the bed and began to slide off.

Bill took no time in grabbing the man’s upper arms and slamming him back down to his prone position on the bed. “What? No pillow talk?”

After a short struggle against the demon’s vice grip, it was clear no one was going anywhere unless Bill decided they were. Besides, Ford didn’t like the look Bill was wearing above him as the demon looked down on Ford’s wriggling. Ford couldn’t shake the feeling that Bill was enjoying his resistance a little too much. So instead, Ford went limp in Bill’s arms.

“Aw, all done already?” Bill teased. The triangle lowered himself back down onto Ford’s chest, and snuggled in comfortably. Ford stared up at the ceiling, with not much else to do but pout.

His mind wandered back to the agonizing electricity zapping through his head earlier. He was thankful to any kind of god for the fact that he could recall his own name again. Bill noticed Stanford’s heartbeat pick up. Ford had just realized his middle name was completely and totally gone. But he wouldn’t tell Bill that. It would only give the triangle more ammunition… What then, the man swallowed, what would be next to go?

“What… happened to me earlier?” He asked Bill after some time.

“Dunno.” Bill yawned.

“Did you fix me?”

”Would it matter if I did or I didn’t? The deal I was making with you didn’t go through cause your dumb human body shut down right as you went to handshake on it.” Bill sulked.

Ford’s eyebrows lowered, reminded that he should be angrier. “That’s right. You were going to take advantage of me in my time of need to get a deal in your favor.”

“Sorry Sixer, if you haven’t caught on I’m not exactly running a charity here.” Bill responded sleepily. Bill pressed into Ford’s chest like he would fluff a pillow. “You’re so soft and warm, ya know that? I’m not sure how you humans stay sane having to breathe so often, but as a mattress, your diaphragm’s rhythm is kinda relaxing.”

The human shivered, “Will I feel that way again? It was a pain unlike anything I’ve ever felt. I… I wanted to die.”

“Dunno.” Bill waved his hand casually from his resting position. “Your reaction to brainwashing has been pretty bizarre overall, and this is coming from a dream demon.” Bill lifted his upper half to look straight at the man. “If you gave me unlimited access to your head I could go investigate!” Bill looked up to give Ford an impish glance. “Who knows? Maybe you’re slowly dying of a brain tumor in there!”

“I’m not going to agree to that, Bill.”

Bill scoffed and lowered himself back facedown on Ford’s chest. He lifted a pointer finger up, his declaration muffled against Ford’s sweater, “You’re a smart kid. You’ll catch on eventually that it’s best to just do what I say.”

Bill wouldn’t let Ford know much else about how utterly confounding his episode was. In truth, Bill was concerned. Had he crashed some sort of vital coding in there? Would Stanford’s entire mind degrade over a short period of time as a result? Bill needed to get back in his mindscape, not only to better tailor Ford to his needs, but to ensure he wasn’t deleting the man altogether.

But, Bill played it off coolly. The pair were quiet as Bill made a show of yawning loudly on Ford’s chest.

“…Can I at least read?” Ford asked.

“Eh?”

“Can I read while you keep me stuck with you in this position?”

“Eh.” Bill lazily waved a finger, and a book flew over to them from the shelf. Bill released Ford’s arms, trusting the man not to try anything stupid.

Ford was relieved to have something to distract himself from his current situation, even if he wouldn’t admit that he needed a distraction to keep from falling asleep himself. He was comfortable, but being lulled to sleep while cuddling with Bill? He didn’t think his pride could recover from a hit like that.

The two laid there for some time. The only sounds in the room were of the fire crackling and the occasional page turning, though Ford had to reread several sections multiple times over as his mind wandered in fear about what else he may have forgotten from that episode. After a while, Ford looked down to observe the heartless conquered of dimensions, one who now appeared to be fully asleep.

This whole situation was absurd, the scientist thought to himself. Not only the fact he was in a position like this, but also the fact that this sleepy little yellow triangle in a top hat could cause so much pain and devastation. As Bill laid now, his top half turned to the side, his feathery eyelashes gracing Ford’s sweater… Ford acknowledged that most people would probably find the psychopathic demon ‘cute’. That was one of Bill’s most nefarious tricks.

Ford considered the option of using this time to try and sneak out from under Bill. However, Ford knew well enough if there was a way to escape on his own from the penthouse suite that he would have found it by now. Besides, Ford’s eyelids grew heavy. Against his better judgement, he closed his eyes, then fell asleep. He escaped into a dream of a cabin in the woods. There resided blurred figures, a tall one and two smaller ones—ghosts perhaps? He heard in the distance an echoing of children’s laughter under a clear blue sky.

Ford woke up from his involuntary nap to something snaking around in his mouth. Ford’s eyes fluttered open and the man jerked up, only to fall back down on the mattress by Bill’s iron grip on his upper arms again. Bill had him still very much confined to his position, no matter how comfortable it had felt a moment ago. Once he got over his initial panic, he looked on his chest to find the cause of the sensation in his mouth, of course, was Bill Cipher. The triangle was sitting upright on Ford’s chest, impulsively thumbing along the ridges of the man’s molars. “Augh!” Ford spat, turning his head away and back as he attempted to pull away from Bill’s intruding extremities. “Puh! Bill!”

Bill used his other hand to tangle his fingers in Ford’s hair. “Stay still! Sheesh!” Bill scolded, “Can’t you see I’m admiring your bicusp—”

Ford had bit down hard on Bill’s thumb.

“IDS!” Bill pulled his bent thumb from Ford’s mouth. “OWCH, SIXER!” Ford stuck his tongue out in disgust, the taste of Bill’s finger still on his tongue.

For barely a second, not even enough time for Ford to notice, Bill was angry. His eye glowed with a charging laser blast, only to decidedly dissipate. “...It’s a damn good thing you’re nice to look at, Fordsy, cause if one of my henchmen bit me like that they’d be an ash pile with eyes, Looney Toons style!”

“Why would you put your finger there? And while I was asleep, no less?!” Ford raised his head to yell in exasperation, still held down by one of Bill’s spindly arms.

The triangle giggled, maybe a little embarrassed himself as pink settled into his cheeks. “Aw c’mon, how could I resist? You know I have a thing for teeth…”

Ford dropped his head back on the pillow and groaned. He’d never understand this three-sided shape.

“Damn!” Bill exclaimed, “My thumb’s still throbbing! Your bite force would give Teeth a run for his money! You owe me an apology!”

“How dare you even suggest… I…” Ford retorted, only to stop speaking when Bill positioned his index and middle fingers together on one hand to hover them right in front of Ford’s mouth. Ford looked up at Bill questioningly, feeling a growing discomfort as Bill got that glint in his eye.

Bill mashed his two fingers to Ford’s lips. “Suck them.”

The room was silent as the two matched each other’s waiting stare.

“No.” Ford responded, surprised Bill could’ve expected an answer of anything different.

Suddenly, Ford felt a tickle feathering over the sides of his ribs coming from a previously in-noticed third arm coming from Bill’s back. Ford’s mouth straightened into a tight line until the stress built up and the man laughed and struggled as Bill tickled him playfully.

“There’s those pretty little incisors!” Bill cooed, then shoved his two fingers into Ford’s unwillingly open mouth. Ford vocalized an offended, “Nghf!”

As the man was about to clamp down on Bill’s fingers again, the demon snapped in Ford’s face to get his attention. Bill’s voice lowered to a whisper. “You want out of here, don’t you, Stanford?” Ford stopped his bite attempt, brows raised. Ford silently nodded as Bill’s fingers sat loosely atop his tongue.

“Then you’re gonna suck my fingers while I tell you what we’re gonna do on our little errand outside the Fearamid tomorrow.” Bill pressed down into Ford’s tongue, causing for a “gkt!”

Ford nodded again, his nods more rapid than before. The man then took a moment to get over his reluctance, and closed his lips over Bill’s two fingers. “Not good enough.” Bill stated, “Suck.”

Ford furrowed his brows in a disconcerted confusion, but half-heartedly aimed to please the demon. He began to suck lightly, questioningly, and looking up to Bill for feedback. Bill began to feel a pull at his fingers. Bill chuckled on top of the man, ruffling his hair, “Psh! Not like a baby doll! You’re so cute, Fordsy!” Bill then went serious, his voice low, “I mean suck.”

Ford’s averted his gaze knowingly. Bill’s tone erased any doubt of what the demon was really looking for. God, Bill was such a freak. Ford swallowed his pride, and his cheeks slightly hollowed as he took in the fingers once more. The human dragged his lips over them as he began to bob his head, the fingers entering shallower then deeper in a vulgar rhythm… like one would a… Ford wouldn’t pursue the thought further.

Bill seemed pleased. “There it is! I’d’ve had a hard time believing you had such little experience with someone thrusting themselves in and out of the back of your throat! What was the name of that hillbilly friend of your’s back then? You guys struck me as such—how should I say it?—Good friends!” The demon teased.

Ford didn’t dignify the implication with a response, not that he could answer anyway.

Bill looked down on him, now using his other hand to caress the man’s face. The pink intensified in Bill’s cheeks at the sight below him. Ford looked back up at him, wordlessly asking to hear anything else about getting out of the Fearamid.

“Stop.” Bill instructed, and Ford stopped. “Tomorrow we’re heading down to a place you might have known before. Isn’t that exciting?”

“Mph.” Ford responded as able. Ford’s brows raised as Bill began to participate, harshly thrust his fingers deeper into Ford’s mouth at a steady pace. “Take them. Good.”

Bill could feel a gag from the back of Ford’s throat. The man winced through it obediently.

“Imagine Fordsy, you and me…” Bill became breathy as looked down at Ford’s head limply bobbing to his fingers’ thrusting. Bill’s cheeks flushed at the view, pulling his free hand away from Ford’s cheek to hold his own to hide the blush of turned on he was. “…on another adventure together.” Bill panted.

“Erugh.” Ford’s face scrunched in disgust.

“What was that, doll?” Bill retreated his wet, shiny fingers momentarily.

Ford took a breath through his open mouth and glared up at the demon. “I know what you’re really imagining right now...”

Bill’s eye crinkled, quite proud of his own sexual creativity and relishing in Ford’s undivided attention. “I had asked you earlier about a blow job and you didn’t answer! I always say, you learn better by doing!” He stuffed his fingers even deeper back in Ford’s mouth, causing Ford another gag, this time eliciting a soft cough.

“Now then, if you want out of this Fearamid, I’ve got a question for you. You know about what lies under Gravity Falls?”

Ford opened his mouth around the intruding fingers to answer, only for Bill to press down on the man’s tongue.

Bill smiled down at him superiorly, “That was a rhetorical question. Don’t you know not to talk with your mouth full, beautiful?”

Ford’s frustration turned to a disgusted interest as he looked down to notice Bill had begun to rub his flat bottom edge against the man’s chest, in what the human assumed must have been a physically unstimulating mimicry of rutting.

Ford’s look turned stoic, and he pulled away from Bill’s fingers to comment in a surprisingly disconnected monotone, “Are you trying to feel sexual stimulation? But that’s clearly unattainable within your species. Why, you’re…” Ford appeared intrigued, “you’re trying to behave like a human..!”

Bill didn’t like where the conversation was going, nor the cold, calculating look the man was giving him. Bill’s loose posture stiffened abruptly as Ford continued. “You desire social connection so badly that you’ve adopted the biological urges of completely different species. Urges that don’t even make sense for your own kind!”

The scientist’s eyes scanned over the demon methodologically until they locked eyes. “You’re so hopelessly lost and alone in the universe...” Ford said with scientific objectivity more than purposeful ridicule. “It’s fascinating… You’re such a confused, lonely, miserable little creature, aren’t you..?”

Bill’s pupils shrunk as he felt the caustic sting of pure humiliation; a feeling he was not accustomed to. And Bill—in keeping with his tendencies when faced with feelings he didn’t like or understand—lashed out with a hard slap across Ford’s cheek.

“Don’t you look at me like that!” Bill screamed. “Like I’m some kind of bacterium under your microscope lens! Like I’m one of your stupid bugs pinned under a frame!” As Ford winced from the slap, Bill slapped him again and again as the man laid restrained beneath him. Ford’s nose began to bleed.

“Augh!” Ford hissed in pain. “I’m not saying anything factually untrue! How else should I look at you?!”

Ford could have sworn he could see Bill’s eye actually growing misty behind his hysteria. “Like you did 30 years ago, damn it!” the demon shouted. “Like you did under the stars back then! You insufferable, worthless piece of shit! It’s what—!” Did Bill’s voice… crack? “It’s what I’ve been chasing all this time!”

Ford watched on carefully as Bill continued his tirade, the demon yelling, “You can look at me with fear, with awe, you can even look at me with nothing but hate for the rest of your pointless life! But don’t you ever, ever, EVER, LOOK DOWN ON ME LIKE A SCIENTIST!!”

Ford searched the glassy look in Bill’s eye for the reason behind all this emotion. “…The… The stars..? Thirty… years ago..?” Ford repeated.

Pyronica stepped trepidaciously into the parlor room of Bill’s penthouse suite. Bill was sitting at a table, with books piled on either side of him. Bill was usually pretty private about his alone time, only interacting with the Henchmaniacs when he had an order to give or a hell of a party to throw; which was why it was bizarre for her to see the small demon, leaning over his table in the dim light and reading quietly to himself. She announced herself cautiously, “You, uh, requested me, sir?”

“I did.” Bill commented brusquely.

Bill was carrying himself in a demeanor that was markedly different than anything she had ever seen before. Instead of his charismatic, peppy self, this Bill was sullen… brooding, even. She figured seeing Bill quiet was probably the most unsettling thing she had seen in a long time. Bill broke her out of her stupor with a curt “Sit.”

The wooden chair across from Bill at the table was missing, so the monstress sat in a chair adjacent to Bill.

After a pause, Bill broke the silence with a stoic, “I said the ‘L’-word to him a few days ago, Pyronica.”

“‘L-word’..?” She cocked her head.

“The ‘L’ word.”

It clicked for Pyronica. “Oh you mean ‘lov-”

“Don’t!” Bill shouted, bashing his fist on the table and flashing red in rage. Pyronica froze. There it was: Bill’s hair-trigger temper. He faded slowly back to yellow, irritated. “Don’t say it. I was angry and it just…” Bill rolled his wrist as he searched for the answer, “slipped out.”

Pyronica trod cautiously. “Well, do you? Like, ‘L-word’ him?”

“Absolutely not. I debate killing this human every day and being rid of this… this!” Bill shook his fist…“whatever this is!”

“Um. Is this why you called me in here, Boss? Or is this about the mission we’re all doing tomorrow?” She looked around, feeling a bit awkward.

Bill continued as though she had not said anything at all. “Even with his brain smoothed out like a re-waxed bowling ball, he still feels nothing but hate for me! Where does he get off thinking he has the choice not to lo— obey me?” Bill ranted on, “I was sure I could control him like this—his memories fragmented, his family forgotten— but he’s still just as stubborn!” Bill’s anger simmered as he stroked under his eye pensively.

The room was quiet. Pyronica happened to look down at what exactly Bill had been reading. She had to stifle a groan as she looked on the shiny pages of a salvaged Cosmopolitan magazine, the article titled, ‘How to Please Your Man’. Bill saw her looking, then closed the magazine. Then they both saw the cover of the magazine, that in big bold print read “11 Sex Positions that will DRIVE HIM WILD!!” Bill quickly incinerated the magazine in his hand.

Pyronica finally asked, “Is there anything you, uh, needed from me—”

“Ya ever wish you had a penis?” Bill asked casually.

Pyronica was taken aback by the question, blinking in surprise. “I beg your pardon?”

Bill looked down at the flat plane between his little legs. He remembered how sweet Ford had looked on his fingers earlier today. “Or any sex organ… really…” The triangle deflated. “The human orgasm is really something, man.”

“How do you… know that..?” Pyronica squicked.

“But we’re geometrically incongruent. We’re anatomically incongruent.” Bill pondered to himself aloud, sighing loudly again. “Hell, we’re emotionally incongruent, too, the way things are going!” Bill raised his arms in emotion, “I would find the only mad scientist that wouldn’t want to take over the world with me! For a second there I really thought I finally had him right where I wanted him…” The demon then became more self-aware of his ramblings in Pyronica’s presence and instead pouted silently in his chair.

“I don’t think I’ve ever felt that way, no…” Pyronica answered.

“Huh?” Bill asked.

“About the penis, sir.”

“Oh, yeah, the penis.”

Pyronica clicked her tongue. “Sir, I remember this guy… Wasn’t he the one you put a bounty on for his capture when we were still stuck in the Nightmare Realm? The one you put wanted posters out for for thirty whole years?”

Bill averted his eye, still sulking but clearly listening to her. Bill was quietly listening to her for once, and that scared her more than she cared to admit.

She shuffled in her chair restlessly, opened her mouth again, then lost the nerve. After repeated attempts to hold her tongue, she finally blurted out what she had been wanting to ask Bill since that bothersome human first showed up on that first day of Weirdmageddon: “I mean this with all due respect, Boss, but um… Do you think you might be, uh, losing it over this guy?”

Bill turned his gaze to her sharply, and she tried to tactfully walk it back. “I-I mean, he’s just a guy, right? And a human at that…” she laughed nervously. Her heart started beating harder as she was reaching the crux of her point. “I’m sure you want to do bigger, better things! Like, I dunno, rule this entire dimension with an iron fist?”

Bill glared at her as though he would stare a hole into her (and if he decided to use one of his laser blasts, Pyronica considered, that could go quite literally). Pyronica braced herself.

Bill only folded his hands on the desk. “17 days, 22 hours, 4 minutes, and 53 seconds.”

“What, sir?”

“That’s how long we’ve been stuck here in this barrier, Pyronica. That’s how long we’ve been unable to witness the full glory of a true Weirdmageddon.”

“You’re counting? Like that?” Pyronica asked incredulously.

“Does that sound like someone who is losing it?” Bill turned to her.

Pyronica wriggled in her chair. “Um, well…”

Bill looked back at his hands. “So ya think I’m losing it, huh?”

Pyronica didn’t like Bill’s tone, and quickly responded, “No, not at all sir! It was just, um, hypothetical is all!” She looked around the room for a distraction. “Say, where is that human man, anyway?” The monstress looked around for Ford, but finding him not present, she continued. “All I’m saying is… Is this guy really worth all the drama if he’s not into you?”

Bill was quiet, then finally responded, “He’s in the closet.”

Pyronica felt a slight pity for the forlorn little triangle. “With all due respect, sir, you don’t know that. He may never like you like that, Bill.”

“No.” Bill pointed past her, annoyed. “You asked where he is.” Pyronica turned her head to follow his point back into the hallway. He’s in the closet.”

“Huh?” Pyronica looked towards a door she was unfamiliar with, within view in the hallway. She looked back at Bill who had rested his top half on the table, dejected. Pyronica looked back towards the hallway, and got up slowly to approach the closet door. She felt stupid as she turned the door knob, figuring she must have misunderstood what her boss had said to her. The monstress opened the door anyway. She looked down into the small, dark room and loudly gasped.

Blindfolded and gagged, Ford had been left in the dark to sit chained in a wooden chair. The cuffs secured his arms behind his back and his ankles to the chair legs. His arms were secured so tightly to the back of the chair, his back had to arch back painfully. His chest heaved under his sweater. She held her hand to her mouth in disbelief as she saw his dick had been released from the flap of his pants, his own cum still glistening off the end, multiple white spatterings were left to sink into the fabric of his black pants. Despite his obscured vision, Ford still sensed the door open, and he fought in his chains. His distress came out from behind the gag as a distressed muffle.

Pyronica slammed the door closed with her whole body in a panic, as if she had just seen a ghost from behind that door. The man couldn’t see or speak, and yet she could hear his muffled pleas in the background.

Pyronica had barely caught her breath when she jumped in fear as she saw Bill now floating directly in front of her. The demon watched her shocked reaction closely with an ominous blank stare. He then gave a self-aware little giggle, “He’s a little tied up at the moment.”

Her jaw dropped. This wasn’t mischief, vandalism — this wasn’t even the fun kind of torture! It wasn’t just her intuition this whole time; Bill was absolutely losing it when it came to this guy! Bill and his Henchmaniacs always prided themselves on being weird —Pyronica was no exception— …but this?! This was getting a little too weird!

“Boss, I… I don’t know what to say!” She blurted out honestly, feeling slightly cornered by him.

“Then don’t say anything!” Bill stated plainly. “I wanted you up here because I needed you for something before we all head out tomorrow.”

She hesitated, “W-What do you need, sir?”

Bill pulled a steel branding iron out from behind his back, showing it to her closer to her face than necessary. Pyronica noticed its end displayed Bill’s signature symbol; a triangle with an eye in the middle. Bill shook it at her, “It won’t get hot enough by my fireplace alone. I want this about as hot as you can make it, yeah?”

“What are you gonna do with that..?” Pyronica side-stepped along the wall subtly towards the elevator exit.

Bill’s eye crinkled. “I’ll give you three guesses…”

Pyronica stammered as she held her palms out, “Bill, I’m r-really not c-comfortable with—”

Bill facepalmed, “Oy yoy yoy! I have to spell things out for everybody these days!” Bill shoved the rod closer to her. “This isn’t a request, you idiot, it’s a test of loyalty! Did you think I just forgot you allowed Stan into the operation room to negotiate with me? Or how about the way he made you giggle like a school girl after your little party in the throne room?!” Bill was turning red. “And now I find you’ve been questioning my leadership! Me? Bill Cipher! ‘Losing it’?!” He bellowed.

“No! But! I!” She stuttered nervously, only for Bill to bring the rod closer to her face.

“Light the iron, Pyronica! I want it to scar him, forever! He’ll never be able to run too far when his body is branded with my image! I’ll have him under my watch forever!”

Intensely disturbed, Pyronica grabbed the brand with both hands in appeasement. The black rod iron began to hiss as she heated it to an angry, blistering red glow.

Bill watched, contented, as the thermal heat caused the red color to flare along the metal symbol. And just like that, Bill’s voice changed pleasantly, his eye squinting pleasantly as though nothing had happened between them. “You’ve passed! Thanks, babe!” Pyronica was speechless. “You’re dismissed!”

Pyronica bit her nails as Bill swung the closet door back open. Sensing the commotion earlier, Ford had wriggled his way out of his blindfold. The human’s eyes adjusted to the bright light, then recognized it as the brand’s fiery glow. Ford pulled savagely in his binds as his muffled cries grew higher and louder. Unable to move his limbs, his hands flexed against his fastened wrists. The fire monstress looked on in dread until Bill snapped in her direction. She retreated to the exit.

Once alone with Ford, Bill looked over the man contemplatively. Ford looked up at Bill floating above him, bathed in a red glow from the rod, and the man’s eyes became wild and terrified. To Ford in that moment, all logic had left the scientist and it was as though Bill had crawled out straight from hell itself to drag Ford down with him. The man didn’t know what he did to deserve this cursed fate, entangled with Bill Cipher forever.

Bill watched the usually level-headed scientist fall into an animalistic terror, his horrible eye considering where to proudly leave his mark. The demon drank in this feeling of power, taunting, “Where should it go, Stanford? Should I burn your neck? What about along your back? How’s about your ass? Ha!” Bill gave a sinister laugh then tilted in with a squint, “or what about right here on your cheek?” Bill lifted the brand towards Ford’s face and the man turned his head to lean away as far as he could, his eyes squeezed shut.

Ford opened his eyes again to see Bill within an inch of his face, Bill’s shining eye so close it was all the man could see clearly. “Who are you without me, Fordsy?“ Bill asked, “Give me one detail about anyone in your life that you can remember that isn’t me, and I’ll let you out of this.” Bill slowly lowered the fabric of the man’s gag. Ford gasped as his gag was lifted, and Bill continued unblinking, “You can’t. Because like it or not, I am everything to you. I’ve always been everything to you, and being mine is all you’ll ever be.”

Ford caught his breath, a high wheeze coming with every inhale as he fought back a sob. Sweat beading down his brow, he screamed at the demon, “It won’t ever be like it was under the stars back then! There’s no point in trying to get that back!”

“So you do remember it!…” Bill brushed the back of his hand against Ford’s sweaty cheek. “Oh Fordsy, I knew you cared!”

Ford’s breathing still heavy, he shouted, “I’ll never feel the way I did! Not after something like this!”

Bill graced his finger along the handle of the red hot iron, “Never say never, kid!”

As Bill started hovering over various parts of Ford’s body with the iron rod contemplatively, Ford desperately called out “I-! I have a brother!”

Bill cocked his upper half, “Eh?”

“You asked me to give you one detail about my life that I know doesn’t revolve around you and you wouldn’t burn me! Well, there it is!”

Bill lowered the iron. “Aw c’mon, that’s no fair! I told you that…” Bill deflated in disappointment as he lowered the burning rod. Ford closed his eyes as he dropped his head in relief.

But his eyes shot open to look down as the demon pinched the man’s nipple cruelly through his sweater. Ford stifled a yelp. “On second thought,” Bill taunted, “I don’t think I’ll hold to my word!” Ford looked up at Bill, indignant as the demon continued, “See, that’s the issue when you don’t shake on a deal,” he giggled, “I really can do whatever the hell I want!” Bill laid his hand there on Ford’s chest, and noticed the feel of the man’s racing heartbeat. Bill cackled and stretched Ford’s sweater up over his head. Bill lifted the rod. “I’ve got just the spot..!”

Pyronica winced as she could hear the screams of agony from three floors down.

Late that night —more like in the wee hours of the morning— Bill passed the guest room in the middle of the night and heard a soft whimpering. His human was whimpering. Bill opened the door with no announcement, to find his human having given up trying to sleep, instead sitting on the bed shirtless and pressing a cold wet rag against the burn on his chest. The human had not noticed Bill’s entrance in the dark, and Bill floated over to the distraught man inconspicuously. Bill watched on soberly as Ford tried to hold himself together through the sting.

“S’pose pain does last a long time in humans…” Bill broke his silence, causing the human to jump in fear in the dark. When the human saw Bill, he composed himself with a “Get out!”

Ford flinched when the demon instead extended a glowing hand to him. Bill stated matter-of-factly, “Let me in your head to turn off your pain receptors for the night.”

Ford winced from his sudden movement, “No, you want to mess with my head.”

The triangle chuckled, “Boy do I ever!” Then his voice became softer, “But not tonight, I don’t. I’d only disable the pain, you can block the rest off.”

“I can’t trust you, what’s your trick?” Ford spat.

“You don’t have to trust me! It’s a stipulation of this deal—that I’m shaking on, mind ya— that I can’t do anything else but help you.”

Ford was clearly conflicted, he looked down at his singed chest, the burn placed right over his heart. Ford shook his head and turned away. “No, you’re trying to manipulate me! You did this to me!”

“And I’d do it again!” Bill shrugged. Then he grasped one of Ford’s hands between the two of his own. “But I also can make the pain go away. I can give you that.”

“‘Give me that’?“ Ford echoed, “No, no… A deal by definition has to have something in exchange for you on your end… What would you gain from it?”

“I get to see you not being so pitiful, for starters. Besides, you may not recall, but I’ve been wanting to try a silly straw with you, come hell or high water!” Bill tittered.

The man was at a loss for words. “A silly straw? That’s it? Truly?” Ford scoured Bill’s expression for any punchline. He flinched again as the burn on his chest elicited a wave searing pain. ‘No’, Ford told himself. He could bear through this pain. It was excruciating, but it was nothing like the agony he had felt earlier today when his entire brain felt like it was scrambling in real time. He would not give Bill any kind of leverage over him. But god, Ford was just so tired of being in pain…

Bill rubbed comfortingly on the man’s hand held delicately in his own, speaking quietly in a rare sincerity. “You were right, Stanford. I am all alone in the universe… But so are you, aren’t you?” Ford turned his cheek from him when he couldn’t deny this. Ford genuinely couldn’t remember a soul that meant anything to him. Bill turned the human’s face back to him, and the triangle cocked his top half. “Why don’t we try being alone, together?”

Ford winced at the pain, then dropped his head in defeat, which landed on Bill’s side. “Ok.”

Bill’s eye sparkled. Was Ford going to join him? Was the demon finally reaching this guy?!

Ford clarified, “Ok to the deal. Nothing else.”

Bill’s excitement lessened, but was not entirely dissipated. Bill’s look softened regardless, as he removed his hands from Ford’s to extend a glowing handshake. Bill gave a quiet nod, “Then let’s make a deal, shall we?”

Ford reluctantly extended his hand, for Bill to bring his hand away again. Ford couldn’t believe the betrayal. Bill rubbed at the man’s cheek apologetically. “Calm down, calm down! I’m gonna a shake on it. But first, real quick… For tomorrow’s little outing…” Bill’s tone turned scheming. “What can you tell me about a ‘positron turbine’?

The next morning, Stan, Mabel, and Gideon followed Dipper up a steep hill to where the boy remembered visiting the underground alien spaceship. “It’s just up this way!” Dipper called out to the panting others behind him.

Stan huffed as he scratched at the back of his neck, “This better be the real thing, Dip. My everything’s gonna be aching for weeks...”

Chapter Text

“This better be the real thing, Dip. My everything’s gonna be aching for weeks.” Stan complained, as he scratched the back of his neck.

Stan, Mabel, and Gideon followed Dipper as the four ascended the steep hill up to where Dipper remembered visiting the underground alien spaceship- back when it was just him and Grunkle Ford on their own adventure. The boy sadly recalled what felt like a lifetime ago. “It’s just up this way!” Dipper encouraged the less enthused stragglers behind him.

A ways behind, Stan and Mabel slogged up the hill. “Grunkle Stan?” Mabel began, “I just thought of something.”

“Yeah?” Stan panted out.

“If we never escape Weirdmageddon… Will I be stuck in braces forever?” Mabel looked down towards the metal in her mouth with a wrinkled nose. She then looked up at him in worry. “I don’t think there’s orthodontists in the Nightmare Realm…”

Stan quirked one eyebrow. “If ‘we never escape Weirdmageddon’..?” He didn’t like hearing such bleak talk from the usual ray of sunshine. “Why’re ya asking something like that, sweetie?”

“I dunno… I guess I just can’t think of life after all this.“ she shrugged. “Like, am I just supposed to go home to my parents divorcing and be thrown into high school after all this like nothing ever happened?” Stan considered that she had a point, then the girl took Stan’s hand as they scaled the slope. “Can I live with you instead? Can you homeschool me, Grunkle Stan?”

”Uhh…” Stan didn’t know what to say. To be honest, he hadn’t given much realistic thought to what he would do after Weirdmageddon either. The man hadn’t really considered the possibility of a happy ending on a boat with his brother to actually come true— that was just some vague notion of true happiness that he had clung to. Just like the boats he watched as a boy go to and from the docks, the idea was always somewhere unreachable off in the distance. Then it occurred to Stan that Mabel was being quite unlike herself, “Mabel, you’re tellin’ me you’d want to be apart from your brother?”

“What brother?” Mabel spat, glaring bitterly at her oblivious brother up ahead. Dipper was still talking (to himself, ultimately) about his trip to the spaceship with Ford and the Quantum Destabilizer. She continued, “He knew Mom and Dad were divorcing this whole summer and didn’t even tell me! Besides,” she muttered in a pout, “he was ready to leave me to be Grunkle Ford’s apprentice anyway…” Then her usual smile returned as she looked back at Stan. “No matter where he ends up, I’ve decided I want to be homeschooled and stay with you at the Mystery Shack!”

The man considered that was probably pretty unlikely. Where Stan would end up after all this was up in the air, he acknowledged to himself. “Well, I don’t think I’d be great at homeschooling anybody… That would have to be Ford. And the Mystery Shack is technically Ford’s house,” Stan admitted, “so you’d have to ask him if you could stay with him.”

“You wouldn’t stay with him at the Mystery Shack?” Mabel asked, her look turning dour. “You don’t think Grunkle Ford will let you live with him after all this? But Grunkle Stan! Where would you go?”

Stan pulled at his shirt collar uncomfortably. How could he tell her he’d very possibly find himself homeless if they ever escaped Weirdmageddon? It wouldn’t be the first time for him that he lived in his car, but he still didn’t want to tell Mabel outright that it was likely his only option should they escape. She had been through enough as it was already; she didn’t need to hear about harsh realities like that.

But for all his contemplation, she was still too smart. “Grunkle Ford would never leave you to live in your car.” Mabel declared.

Stan exhaled, and remembered what Ford had said in that phone booth all those years ago.

‘…So if you don’t hear from me, I just want you to know that… I never loved you.’

While it had been a good few days since he’d witnessed that memory, hearing that straight from Ford’s mouth had still shaken Stan to his core. Everything he heard about how Ford had felt towards him could’ve just been manipulation on Bill’s part, or pity on Ford’s. Stan needed to wake up—he figured—to the reality that he and Ford would never go back to how things were as boys. Accepting that, dashing that hope completely, would be the most merciful thing he could do for himself. “…I don’t know,” he mumbled back to Mabel after a long pause, “Ford and I haven’t been on the best of terms for, uh, most of our lives…”

“He’d let you stay with him. He’d say yes.” Mabel nodded with certainty. “You two argue a lot, but he loves you very much. A girl can just tell these things, you know!”

Stan’s mind continued to wander. What would the end of all this even look like for Ford? Who knows what was happening to him up there in that Fearamid? Would Ford even make it to the end of Weirdmageddon with his sanity in one piece? He shuddered subtly, swallowing some unpleasant emotion down.

Then the man stopped walking and knelt beside Mabel, and she stopped in turn. He spoke patiently, “Well, to answer your first question, things will go back to normal one day, ok? We’ll make sure of it. And when that happens, I don’t want you to use your grunkles as a way to hide away and escape reality, pumpkin.” A flood of memories from his first few months estranged from his family came to his mind. “Sometimes life changes on you, and it’s scary, but it’s part of growing up.”

Mabel’s smile dropped. “But I want to stay with you, Grunkle Stan! I can’t trust Dipper anymore after he hid something so important from me all summer!”

“C’mon sweetie, cut him some slack. It would have been hard for Dipper to break the news to you. Surely you can at least understand why he was puttin’ it off.”

Mabel harrumphed in her brother’s direction, then smiled up at Stan adoringly. “You and me can live in the car together if we have to!” She raised her fists excitedly, “Road trip!”

Stan groaned. “Ok, tell ya what? Once we’re out from under all this apocalypse-ing, we’ll talk with Ford and your parents some more about you staying at the Mystery Shack a little longer, if that’s what ya really want, ok?” He conceded.

“Or the car! Wherever you go!” She exclaimed.

Stan ignored that as he rose to his feet.

Mabel reached out to hold Stan’s hand again. “Love Patrol Alpha can be a two person band!” She waved flippantly towards Dipper. “Every good band loses a member at some point.”

Stan was about to respond, when he suddenly felt something slimy grab his ankle and shrieked. “GIDEON! You scared the ssssssshhhhhhhh-ucks outta me!”

Gideon was laying on the ground, holding onto Stan’s ankle. The sweaty boy panted and wheezed melodramatically, “I can’t… I can’t keep a’going… Go on without me..!”

“Ok.” Stan shook his foot from the boy’s clammy grip and walked off.

“H-Hey!” Gideon called out, left lying on the ground.

Mabel extended her hand to him reluctantly, “Come on, Gideon. We‘ve got things to do!”

“We’re here!” Dipper shouted proudly.

From the high view atop the hill, the four took a moment to truly grasp how Gravity Falls had been perverted by the incomprehensible force of Weirdness. What was once the blue Oregon skies wisped with cirrus clouds had morphed into a pulsating angry orange realm littered with black thunderous clouds. The lush dew-dropped forests now were replaced with crooked, crisped black twigs. Any evergreen leaves were now strangely yellowed and curled. The sleepy but cozy town that had succumbed to Weirdness appeared frozen in time, quiet and empty. The fertile soil they used to stand on now had more in common with gray ash. Which was symbolic, after all, as it was fairly accurate to describe the entire ecosystem of Gravity Falls as having been burned down to cinders by Bill Cipher.

Their contemplation was interrupted by Dipper pointing at a fairly heavy rock. “It was right under this stone!”

Stan rotated his arm to crack his shoulder, then pushed the rock aside to reveal a ladder leading down a metal corridor. “Well I’ll be darned. You weren’t kiddin’ kid.”

The gang climbed down the ladder—Dipper leading the way enthusiasticly—and descended into the darkness below. Stan’s voice echoed through the corridor. “So, what you’re saying is that aliens are real? Like in real life?” Stan laughed uncomfortably, “Sorry, just grappling with the fact that there’s other intelligent life outside of earth. It’s like, ya know, kinda weird that life on earth isn’t alone in the infinite void of the universe.”

“Did you think Bill was actually a sentient Dorito all this time?” Dipper quipped.

“Oh. Huh.” Stan hadn’t thought too hard on what Bill actually was, aside from a massive pain in the ass. “Guess I should’ve been having an existential crisis a lil’ earlier than this. Jeez…”

Gideon snorted down at Stan. “Let’s just say Stan Pines’ never been the brains of any operation!”

“Aw, shaddap Gideon!” Stan called up at the snot. Stan then felt his foot planted firmly on a metal floor below. Stan helped Mabel step down the last few rungs, and reached up to even help out a worn out Gideon.

“Oh, you’ve learned ya place, Stanley?” Gideon reached for Stan’s hand with a smug smile. Stan Pulled his hand away at the last second, leaving Gideon to drop 3 feet to the ground. “Dang ’nabbit Stanley Pines!” Gideon cursed as he dusted himself off the ground. Stan chuckled.

“Shh!” Dipper called out from up ahead. Stan, Mabel, and Gideon looked around at their surroundings of strange alien technology: slick polished steel, bizarre levers, ancient but clearly technologically advanced circuitry. “A ‘positron turbine,’ huh Grunkle Ford..?” Dipper muttered to himself as he pulled the crumpled Quantum Destabilizer blueprints out of his backpack. Gideon walked ahead, irreverently pressing buttons on a circuit board at random until a holographic map of the ship flickered in front of him.

Dipper continued, “A map! If I knew what a ‘positron turbine’ did, I could maybe figure out where exactly it would be in the ship… Guess we just gotta search the whole place.”

“It’s a turbine,” Stan noted plainly, “so by definition it’s a turbomachine for producing continuous power in which a wheel or rotor is made to revolve by some fast-moving flow of water, steam, gas, air, or other fluid.”

The children blinked up at him. “Uh, well…” Dipper replied, “I still don’t really know where I’d find that here then… Why’re you always acting like you’re kinda stupid, Stan?”

Stan squinted at the boy, “I’m gonna take that as you think I’m really smart, Dip…”

“We should split up to look for it!” Mabel insisted. “Gideon, you go with Dipper. I’ll go with Grunkle Stan.”

Dipper seemed disappointed. “But Mabel, you and me always go together…”

“Not anymore, Dipper. Guess people outgrow each other, huh?” She snapped back as she took Stan’s hand and started walking off with him.

“…M-Mabel?” Dipper called out, his feelings clearly hurt. “Is this about me not telling you about the divorce? I’m sorry, I really am!”

Stan stopped walking with the girl. “I know you’re mad, Mabel, but you and Dipper have got to work it out!” Mabel looked up at Stan upset. “We’re all staying together.” He said definitively.

Mabel sniffled, then turned back to her brother, “How can I ever trust you again, Dipper? What else are you hiding from me?”

Dipper’s mind flashed with the thought of the infinity dice still glowing deep in his backpack, then held his palms out defensively, “N-Nothing, Mabel! I… I promise!” Dipper cleared his throat, then continued, “I’m sorry, Mabel! I’m really, so, so sorry…”

Mabel looked him in the eyes as she saw right through him. “I can’t believe it… You’re doing it again! You’re lying to me again!” She shouted, appalled as she pointed at him accusingly.

“N-No! Mabel!” Dipper shook his head, taking a step back from her.

“Oh ho ho! Trouble in paradise, Pines family?” A familiar voice echoed loudly throughout the ship.

From behind the various alien screens and controls on the ship emerged Pyronica, 8-Ball, Hectorgon, Keyhole, and Teeth. The humans jumped in surprise.

“Bill!?” Dipper gasped, “Where is he?! How did he know we’d be here?!”

Stan pushed the twins behind him. “No good, kids! Head back up the ladder as fast as you can! I’ll distract ’em!”

Dipper and Mabel ran towards the ladder, but the Henchmaniacs laughed. “The only thing you’ll find waiting up there is Xanthar’s massive fists!” Hectorgon shouted smugly. They heard a thunderous roar from above.

“Damn it..!” Stan gritted his teeth. “Kids, stay back!”

He heard Mabel shriek. Stan looked back at the girl, who was looking in fear directly at… was she looking at Stan himself?

Stan then felt a small, spindly arm rest across his shoulders. He heard that voice in his ear again. “Good job leading the brats to me, Fez!” Stan looked directly to his side. “And ya met us right at the agreed spot! Maybe there is a brain cell in there!” Bill’s winding arm pulled the man close in a side hug. Stan’s cheek was smushed against Bill’s edge in a display of faux-friendship. “You don’t have to keep the protective patriarch act up anymore! You and I got the snots right where we want ’em now!”

“Wha-huh?” Stan responded baffled, attempting to pull away from Bill’s embrace, but was unable to budge.

“Congratulations, Stanley Pines! You’ve passed your initiation test!” Bill’s eye crinkled mischievously at the man as the Henchmaniacs circled in closer to him, “Welcome to the Henchmaniacs!”

The twins looked up at Stan, speechless. They stepped back from the man, Dipper muttering, “Gr-Grunkle Stan? He’s lying, right..?”

Stan stammered, “Wha—? Kids! Of course he’s lyin’! C’mon, I’d never—”

“Aw shrimps,” Bill interjected, “would someone on your side…” Bill spun Stan around and pulled down the collar of his shirt to expose the back of his neck, “be caught wearing my face!” Dipper and Mabel gasped seeing a triangle with an eye inked onto Stan’s neck. Bill spun Stan back around.

Stan was horrified. How could he have missed someone inking that on him!? The only time he had been truly out of it was during that party in the throne room! The Henchmaniacs laughed around him. Could they have? While he was passed out? Stan couldn’t believe how stupid he’d been! He’d led Bill right to the kids!

“Bill’s been watching our every move since Grunkle Stan came along?!” Mabel breathed in disbelief.

“Correct-o-mundo, Shooting Star!” Bill said in a sing-songy tone. “Stan and I knew we could find you kids if he played that sweet ‘Grunkle’ routine one last time! He makes a pretty good undercover spy, don’t he?” The demon ruffled Stan’s hair into a spikey mess. “Now he gets to be my new Henchmaniac, ‘Fez’!” Bill’s finger sparked as he poofed a black fez onto Stan’s head, its emblem now that of a yellow triangle. Stan quickly threw the hat on the ground and Stan shook his head, his ruffled hair returning flat as well.

“C’mon kids, don’t listen to him! He’s trying to manipulate ya!“ Stan pleaded, “It’s what he does!”

“And as another reward, Fez, ol’ chum,” Bill waved his hand, “How’s about a quick family reunion?”

Between Stan and the children appeared none other than Ford, struggling in light blue handcuffs.

“Grunkle Ford!?” Dipper startled. Both he and Mabel didn’t notice the Henchmaniacs slowly encroaching on the two of them.

“Stanford!” Stan cried out, and went to grab his brother by the shoulders, only for Ford to be poofed away. Stan stumbled into empty air. “No! Ford!” Stan yelled, then turned to Bill, “Give him back!”

Bill poofed away himself, reappearing a bit farther away with Ford at his side. Ford glared up at the demon, “Stop playing around with me, Bill!”

The demon asked in a mockingly innocuous tone, “Fordsy, do ya know this rando?” Bill pointed his thumb back at Stan dismissively. Ford poured over Stan with an anxious look. His eyes searched frantically for some inkling of an answer.

Stan held his breath.

“I… I don’t recall.” Ford stated blankly, feeling ambiguously like he should be ashamed of himself. “But he looks like me! He must be my brother! He must!”

Stan knew Bill was trying to play with his emotions, so he wouldn’t let the hurt sink in. “Ford!” he called out. “You’re right! It’s me, Stanley! Your brother! I’m gonna save you!”

“Stan…ley…?” Ford searched over Stan’s face for any spark of recognition to come. “I can’t… I don’t know you…!” Ford stated defeatedly, only to recall something, distrust etched across his features. “But wait! Don’t you..? You do! You hate me!” He stated accusingly.

Stan’s voice caught in his throat for a breath. “Why would I-! You idiot, you’re the one who hates me! I lov—”

“Welp! As entertaining as this all is, I hope you all said goodbye to the sun before ya climbed down into this deep dark hole, cause you’ll never be seeing it again!” Bill interrupted as he poofed behind Stan and shoved him towards the Henchmaniacs.

Then above everyone, a deep, gutteral voice came from the ceiling. “Finally, The Author!” The Shapeshifter dropped from the ceiling, landing with a boom behind Bill and Ford. The alien’s landing shook the room.

Stan groaned across the room, “Can’t we have just one alien with supernatural powers after us at a time!”

The Shapeshifter dragged his claw across a metal control panel, the sound piercing like nails on a chalkboard. He growled at Ford, “I’ve found you! You thought you’d seen the last of me, hadn’t you?”

Ford turned to Bill, “Do you know this guy?”

The Shapeshifter pointed at Ford, then gestured to Stan, Dipper and Mabel, “Your pack has gathered together, Author! What a perfect time to kill you all!” His claws raised. “I’ll erase your entire genetic profile from this wretched planet forever!”

Ford turned to Bill. “Do I know this guy?”

“Ugh, your entire species is just the worst!” The Shapeshifter hissed. “How dare you not recognize me, when you kept me locked away all those years!”

Bill straightened his bow tie. “Yeah, I dunno who you are, bub, but you’re kinda cramping my villainous style here. So why don’t ya skedaddle before I decide you’ve got a lotta crab-like legs I could eat!” Bill eschewed the creature flippantly.

The Shapeshifter growled. “You dare ridicule me, triangle? Very well, I shall eliminate you before I bring the Author to extinction!”

Bill’s pupil grew sparkly as his eye crinkled in amusement, “Wait! Are you wanting to fight… me? That’s so cute! Ay, Crab-Legs, listen; you are so totally out of your league here! Besides, I can’t let you kill ’em.” Bill noted then popped next to Stan and gave him flick on his forehead, “cause I’m keeping this one as a lackey”, then poofed back to Ford and stroked under the man’s chin, “and this one as a pet!”

Mabel and Dipper shrieked in surprise when Bill poofed in between the two children. “And these li’l ones here,” Bill’s tone darkened as he brought the children into a side hug on either arm, “Well these ones are what I like to call leverage!”

The Shapeshifter planted his stance. “You cannot frighten me with your empty posturing, triangle!”

“HA!” Bill laughed as he tightened his grip on the kids. “This thing’s so totally delusional! I like this guy!” A murderous glint showed through his eye as he charged a laser blast, “Now who wants crab legs tonight?”

“It is true that you are stronger than you appear, small triangle.” Shapeshifter observed the demon. Then the creature began to morph. Bill’s top half cocked in interest when he watched the alien creature shift into none other than a clone of Bill Cipher himself. “But your confidence will be your undoing!” the Shapeshifter stated in Bill’s own likeness.

“Wha-ha-hoh!” Bill cracked up, “You’re a shapeshifter from Galaxy 487! What are you doin’ out here?” Bill chuckled merrily as he released Mabel and Dipper to float closer to the doppleganger. “Now this! This could be fun! I’ve killed a lot of things, but I’ve never killed me before!” Bill cracked his knuckles. He turned to Ford across the room, “Now watch closely, hun,” his gaze then shifted to the Shapeshifter while charging a blast, “and see how there really is only one Bill Cipher!”

Gideon, the short, reluctant accompaniment to the Pines family, did have one redeeming quality to their goal. He was ultimately irrelevant to Bill. Bill had seemed to lose interest in the fate of the boy after the dancing-for-eternity gag was played out. Now, in the ups and downs of the scene before, the boy had easily eluded attention as he tip-toed further into the ship.

The boy twiddled his fingers nervously as he pressed on, passing massive monitors, otherworldly antennas, and components vaguely resembling dish satellites. The ship, while clearly not flyable, still hummed a ghastly tone whenever the wandering boy clumsily bumped into a motherboard. The ship was certainly not completely dead.

“A ‘positron turbine’? Now how in the heck am I supposed to reckon that?” The boy whined. Gideon looked closely into a control panel of buttons and switches, only to shriek at the sight of a dusty alien skeleton sitting in a chair beside him.

He didn’t have much time to cower, as an explosion so powerful then burst from the room where the demon and Shapeshifter were fighting that it knocked him right off his feet. He caught himself on the landing, catching himself by slamming his palm on the control panel, accidentally pressing a large red button.

The entire interior of the space ship began to flash red on and off, as an alarm blared throughout the intercom system. An occasional announcement in an alien language would echo over the system. The boy gasped to find that multiple strange orbs with electrifying tentacles emerged from the ceiling.

“Heh…” Gideon chuckled nervously, “I don’t s’pose you giant marbles have seen any positron turbines ‘round here? Heh, heh…”

Bill and his shapeshifting doppleganger ceased their battle to listen to the alarm as the room flashed red and a strange speech went blast over the intercom. “That language…” the real Bill muttered, stroking under his eye.

Bill noticed across the room that Ford was stroking his chin in thought as well. “I recall studying it myself.” The man noted.

The two waited for the announcement to echo again through the alarm. “It’s counting down…” Ford observed plainly.

Ford and Bill’s eyes darted to each other’s. “Someone activated the SELF DESTRUCT!” They shouted simultaneously.

Immediately, Gideon ran back into the room shrieking, “Not my fault!” while behind him burst in multiple security orbs.

Bill’s Henchmaniacs went scrambling away from the orbs as the orbs began to pursue them, the lackeys running right by the boy as he stood there in the doorway.

Bill was too distracted to notice as he honed back in on the Shapeshifter, only to find the creature had skulked away himself. “HA!” Bill shouted, “Crab-Legs crawled off! What a wuss! And here I was looking forward to tearing my own self in half!”

Bill turned to where his Henchmaniacs had been standing, “Now grab that defenseless family!” He commanded, only to find his Henchmaniacs gone or scattering about.

Bill turned back to the Pines, to find that they were gone too. The demon floated there alone amongst the blaring alarms and flashing lights. Bill made light work of the security orb that tried to face him.

Bill turned to Ford and found nothing. “Hey! Where’d everybody go?”

The short fight between the two Bill and the Shapeshifter had stirred up a large amount of dust, giving a cloudy grey haze throughout the ship. As the security orbs had distracted Bill and the Shapeshifter for a brief moment, Stan had run out of the room with the kids in his arms— or so he thought he had the kids. As the dust cleared and he looked in his arms, he shouted in surprise to find he was holding Mabel, Gideon, and—Keyhole?!

“Augh!” Stan squicked, then dropped the small humanoid shaped alien only for the cowardly Henchmaniac to scramble off in a panic amongst the chaos.

“Dipper!” Mabel cried as she jumped from Stan’s arms, “Where’s Dipper!?”

“I’m right here!” They heard his voice approaching over the sounding alarm. “And I have him!”

As the boy drew closer, his image in the dust cleared. The three others were shocked to find Dipper had also escaped the frenzy with Ford at his side.

Now that they were all together, Stan needed to focus on the escape plan before they were all ka-blooied, and fast. “Ok! Now we need to make our way to the exit!” Stan grabbed the rifle from his back and switched off the safety mechanism. “Everyone, stay behind me! Who knows what we’re gonna run into around here!”

“But the positron turbine!” Dipper cried, “We’ve gotten this far already!”

Stan turned to Dipper, “Nuh-uh! This place is about to blow! No space thing-a-ma-jig’s worth risking your lives! We’re finding a way out!”

“B-But!”

“Now!” Stan demanded.

Ford approached Stan carefully and tilted the rifle barrel up and away from any people. “Stan! Be careful with that! This hazy place is nowhere to be swinging a gun around! Give me that rifle before you hurt someone!”

“Already with the patronizing, Ford?“ Stan spat, “You may have your sci-fi space toys, but you really think you know your way around a rifle more than I do?”

“Damn it, Stanley! This is no time for bickering!” Ford scolded. “Now give me that gun!”

But the two were interrupted when Bill burst from the doorway, swinging a security orb around by one of its tentacles. He then let it fly, to careen towards the family.

“Watch out!” Stan shouted, the family all diving aside. The tossed security orb luckily missed everyone by a few feet.

Then Bill’s eye focused on Ford laying up on his elbows off the floor, his glasses hanging crookedly off his nose. “Ah, there ya are, Fordsy! Did you really think you could sneak off with your meddling little family?” Bill snapped, “That’s it! You lost your mission privileges!” Ford tried to scramble away, only for the man to quickly be turned to a gold figure of himself.

“Grunkle Ford!” Dipper cried. “No!”

Stan could do nothing but watch as Bill scooped up his brother like nothing more than a cheap soccer trophy. Bill chuckled, “That’s enough bullshittin’ for one day, folks! By the sound of that alarm, I’m about all outta time to entertain you chumps!” Bill listed on his fingers, “Let’s see… I’ve destroyed the ladder to the surface, I’ve warped all of my useless Henchmaniacs back to the Fearamid, but…” Bill squinted past the children, directly at Stan. “Fez! Last chance— I’ll take ya back with me and goldie here so long as you’ll be my lackey for the rest of your days! And you and your stubborn brother better get me that damn equation to break the barrier!” Bill offered a glowing hand. “Do we have a deal?”

The self-destruct alarm grew in intensity and urgency. Stan ignored Bill’s hand, and turned to lift Dipper up like a toddler. “Ok, sure, yeah whatever, ya dorito!” Stan shook the boy, stressing for Bill to take him. “Just get them outta here before this place explodes!”

Bill’s eye crinkled, “Whoa, whoa! Presumptuous aren’t we? I never said I’d take your runts!”

Stan’s voice cracked, “What?! But you said they were leverage or something!”

“I only sense four human brain signals in this room,” Bill replied, “and I don’t got the time to figure out which one of ya’s the Shapeshifter! I would’ve preferred to use your brats as leverage, but I certainly don’t need that thing skulking around my Fearamid, no siree! Nah, I’ll only take you! But hey! Look on the bright side!” Bill shook the figure of Ford. “You’ll be reunited with your brother!”

“How do you know I’m not the Shapeshifter?” Stan argued, and shook Dipper once again in his hands.

Bill laughed, “Only Fez Pines calls me ‘Dorito’, for starters!”

Stan noted that Bill had a point.

The man shook his head, “No way! Not happening! I’m not leaving my grand niece and nephew behind!”

Bill shrugged, Ford’s shiny petrified figure still gripped loosely at Bill’s side, “Ok, Fez, then DIE with your brats! You could have helped rule the dimension! Hope your brats were worth it!”

With that, Bill turned to float towards the entrance of the ship, but paused. “Good luck finding an exit after I destroyed the ladder! No way out now! Buh-bye, losers!” Bill saluted with two fingers, then zoomed off with Ford.

The ship’s alarm blared, the countdown continued, and the ship began to shake. Stan lowered Dipper and the children all clung to Stan. “What do we do now?!” Mabel cried as the countdown continued.

Gideon screamed and ducked under Stan’s leg, “We can’t stay down here!”

“Bill’s got Grunkle Ford! And we’re…! We’re going to—” Dipper buried his head in the fabric of Stan’s shirt.

Stan just knew in it his bones. None of these kids were the Shapeshifter. He held them close. At least they’d all go down together…

Stan thought bitterly of how he was so out of his league here, so completely and utterly baffled by the absurdity of it all. He couldn’t save his family alone! He was just one man! He couldn’t possibly stand up to monsters or aliens or demons! Stan gently stroked Mabel’s hair as he comforted the kids in a cruel lie. “It’s alright, kids. It’s gonna be ok…”

They then heard a voice echoing from deeper in the ship, “What are you people doing?! Don’t you know this place is set to self-destruct!?”

Everyone gaped as they looked at Ford approaching lugging two metal boxes, then looked back to where Bill had taken him away. The family looked at eachother in mutual confusion.

Dipper gleamed in amazement, hope renewed. The boy didn’t know how it happened, but like a superhero, his great uncle showed up when they most needed him. He ran to embrace the scientist, “Grunkle Ford! But, how?!”

Ford, often unsure of how to handle children —let alone a child he did not recognize— was concerned for these clearly lost kids regardless. He went to Stan and dropped a metal box in his arms. Stan noticed the box had two straps, like a backpack. “I grabbed an extra jetpack in case you needed it!” Ford announced over the blaring alert. “I advise you put it on promptly!”

“Jetpacks?!” Stan stammered. “There are jetpacks down here!?”

Ford looked back where he had come from with his own jetpack, calculating in his head. He clicked his mouth. “Just as I figured: You won’t have time to get the children jetpacks from the ship’s storage bay at this rate, but at a glance they appear light enough for one jetpack to support for a short distance.” Ford began to run towards the exit. He called out to the others behind him, “We’ll have to improvise, but it should work! Come along!”

Stan, Mabel, Dipper, and Gideon followed behind the scientist. Gideon tired quickly, and Stan came back to shlep the boy onto his back. “Did we not just see that guy get turned to gold and carried away by Bill?” Gideon huffed.

“I ain’t the brains of any operation, right? So I ain’t askin’ questions til we’re out of this place!” Stan replied.

The group reached the upward corridor to the surface, to find the ladder to climb destroyed. “Alright folks,” Ford announced as he began to rev the jetpack. “It’s not ideal, but everyone, pile on!”

Stan grabbed Mabel as Ford swept up Dipper and Gideon. Ford nodded back to his brother, “Well? What are you waiting for? Turn your’s on!”

“I don’t know about this, Stanford…” Stan mumbled, posture rigid as he listened to the engine sputter. “I don’t know if this thing’ll lift the lot of us..!”

“Oh? My apologies!” Ford retorted sarcastically, “I didn’t know you got a Ph. D in rocket science, which by the way, I did!” Ford then smiled back at him. “You’re just going to have to trust me!”

Stan couldn’t help but chuckle. Even with his mind wiped, Ford was still that smug little asshat. “Well if you say so, Mister Scholar.” Stan threw the pack on and flipped the switch so the engine revved. The group could hear the inner area of the ship begin to explode.

They all flew out just in time for the explosion to erupt from the hole like a volcano, barely missing Stan’s shoes as they wizzed through to the surface. Ford landed elegantly on the grass. Stan, unfamiliar with operating jetpacks, crashed him an Mabel into the branches of a tree. Mabel coughed up a leaf, then cheered, “Again!”

That evening in the Fearamid, Pyronica cringed as she stood guard outside of Bill’s bedroom suite. She heard him blabbering on to himself in his room.

Inside the room, Bill held a golden petrified Ford in a waist dip. “Oh Bill!” Bill puppeted the frozen Ford, in a poor imitation of the human’s voice, “I’m so sorry I’ve been such an UNGRATEFUL PIECE OF SHIT all this time!” Bill flashed red in rage. “I’ve now realized the error of my ways, and plan to stay by your side forever, should I be so LUCKY!”

Bill dropped the frozen Ford figure to thump onto the floor and turned away from it dramatically. “I dunno, Fordsy! You sure have been a WHINY LITTLE BITCH ever since I revealed my evil plans!” Bill looked down casually at his claws. “I don’t know if I even want you back…”

Bill swooped over to pick up the figure, puppeting “But Bill! Please! You’re EVERYTHING I EVER WANTED! I don’t know how I didn’t realize that you are so much better than me at everything! Why, even with my two eyes, I was so BLIND TO YOUR GREATNESS!”

“Aww, babe! You know just what to say!” Bill cooed to the figure. “I guess it’s about time to tell you your whole family died in a fiery explosion— Not that you’d remember ‘em anyway! They exploded along with their precious positron turbine!” The figure in hand, he floated up towards the high ceiling, and morphed his one eye into a mouth. He then kissed the metal face of the figure as he snapped, and the man was quickly turned back to flesh.

“AUUUGHEEEUUUHH!” The man cried as he came to find Bill slobbering along his face. Bill pulled away, morphing his eye back, and cackled.

Bill sighed as the man struggled in his grip, “Oh Sixer, if you were my perfectly behaved partner, where would I get my laughs?” Bill dropped the man to fall down to the floor. “Anyway,” Bill’s eye crinkled devilishly, “I have news for you..!”

That was when Bill noticed it. Did Stanford’s… Did Stanford’s eyelids blink horizontally?

Chapter Text

The Pines family (and Gideon), still dead tired from their encounter with Bill and his lackeys, wandered through the night to avoid any attention. They had first tried to head to the Mystery Shack, only to find Xanthar still standing guard in the area. Bill had put in measures to ensure if the Pines’ had lived, they certainly couldn’t go to safety.

So instead, they were heading to a creature nearby that Ford recalled would likely be kind to them. In the rare instances of conversation between Stan and Ford, the subject matter was purely that of what needed to happen to get the tired, dirty children to safety.

Stan quickened his pace to speak with Ford ahead. “What…” Stan began, unnerved as he held his hand over the back of his neck, “What do I do with this mark Bill’s got on me? We won’t be able to avoid him for long if he learns he didn’t take you back with him. He’ll use me as a way to locate us all.” Stan stopped walking, and Ford stopped in turn. “I might need to separate from you guys…”

“Nonsense. Let me see.” Ford studied it. “Oh good. He didn’t burn it on you. That could simply be covered with ink until we figure out a better way.” Ford regarded the inked image of Bill on the back of Stan’s neck thoughtfully. It didn’t come off to Stan’s rubbing. Ford hoped it wasn’t tattooed. He’d rather not have to use a precision laser gun so close to the man’s jugular vein.

“He can’t hurt me. Must’ve had to ink it on.” Stan pointed out. “Hold on, are you saying he burned it onto you?!”

“That’s irrelevant. It’s hidden under bandages, at least for now.” Ford quickly responded back curtly. He didn’t want to seem like some kind of victim in front of Stan. “I’ll borrow some ink from this friend we are heading to and cover it. It’s not a real solution, but it will buy us some time.”

The group walked on until Ford stopped and pointed to a child-sized door hidden on the far side of a large tree. “Here we are. I have a vague memory of some…thing living here. I’m not really sure myself, actually.” Ford knocked on the small door.

“You don’t even know who you’re taking us to?!” Stan dragged a palm down his face.

The family waited in suspense for a moment until the door swung open. “Well, hello!” Ford smiled weakly down at the creature, “I figured if there was anyone in this neck of the woods who would help us, it’d be you.”

The small creature looked up at the tired, soot-covered family. The inside of his tree home was bathed in a cozy glow. The creature stared blankly at the pathetic bunch until he responded, “SHMEBULOCK!”

The entire family (and Gideon) had immediately cleaned themselves off with wet rags. While the children dragged themselves to a shared bed, Shmebulock provided a quill of ink as Ford requested. Ford scribbled heavily over the symbol of Bill on Stan’s neck. “There, it’ll buy us some time.”

Stan looked around at their temporary hideaway. “Not to look a gift horse in the mouth, but,” Stan looked at the 4 ft bed in front of him, “I think I’ll try to sleep on the recliner In the living room. This place is tiny. Couldn’t you have been friends with a giant or somethin’?”

The next morning, Stan awoke to Dipper anxiously tapping his feet as he stood outside of Ford’s bedroom door. The boy twiddled his fingers in anticipation of Ford waking up. Dipper didn’t really know what would happen when they finally had a moment together; he only knew he’d waited for the moment for weeks.

Stan cracked his back as he stretched in the child-sized recliener, his knees almost touching his chest. Shmebulock’s home was much too small for the him or Ford, but it fit the children fairly well. The gnome’s house was surprisingly unscathed by the Weirdness or vandalism, primarily since it was hidden deep within a tree in the woods.

“Hey, Dip,“ Stan yawned, “don’t give yourself a heart attack standing guard outside Ford’s door. I don’t think he’s going anywhere.” Dipper jumped at Stan’s voice, a little embarassed himself.

Stan was in an ambiguously foul mood ever since the gang set up camp with Shmebulock, and it wasn’t entirely due to the tiny, uncomfortable furniture. Something was eating at him, and Dipper had picked up on his grumpiness.

Dipper scratched at his arm. “Heh, oh, yeah… I just… we haven’t had a second alone to really talk.”

Dipper watched with baited breath as Stan went ahead and peeked into Ford’s room to see the man still asleep. It seemed Ford had given up on the gnome bed entirely, opting to lay on the floor with the comically small blanket draped over his torso. Stan exhaled through his nose, and gently closed the door. “Mabel’s been sleepin’ in as long as Ford has… She’s usually an early bird… Dip, go check in on your sister.”

“Uh? Me?” Dipper questioned. “She still doesn’t want to be anywhere near me right now. You can go check on her, Stan.”

Stan pinched at his nose bridge, trying to curb his irritation. “You can’t just avoid her forever because things are uncomfortable between the two of you. Besides, I’m betting you slept better than me last night, assuming you got—I dunno—even one minute of actual sleep.” The man draped himself back over the much-too-small recliner chair.

Dipper’s brow quirked. “But Stan, didn’t you and Ford avoid eachother for years because things were uncomfortable between the two fo you? Heck, you guys did it for most of your lives! And—!”

Dipper stopped speaking immediately as Stan threw him a dark scowl. The boy had never seen the man wear such an expression, let alone directed at him. “You’re waaay outta line there, Mason.”

Dipper gulped. He didn’t know Stan had known his real name before now. “I’ll go check on Mabel…” The child conceded.

Dipper sauntered into their shared room and cracked the door open to find the girl was laying awake in bed. He tried to quietly close it unnoticed, but she called out to him. “Dipper…” she croaked, “I forgive you…about the divorce.”

Dipper turned back to her, “You… You do?” He gave her a full look for the first time. She looked horrible. Seriously unwell.

Mabel nodded. “Mhm… Cause…” She sniffled, “Cause I don’t know how much time I have left…”

Dipper’s expression twisted in concern as he approached her. “‘Much time left?’ What are you talking about?”

Mabel threw her bed sheets off herself. Dipper gasped to find blood stained all over her pants and the sheets. “Oh… Oh my god! Mabel! What happened?!”

“I don’t know..! But it hurts so, so much..!” She whimpered as she clutched at her lower stomach.

Dipper held back his panic. “G-Grunkle Stan! H-He’ll know what to do!” Dipper dashed out of the bedroom and down the hallway to the living area. “Stan! Grunkle Stan!” He cried out, quaking, “Mabel! She’s bleeding out!”

Despite Stan’s complaints of aches, he darted up from the small chair. “What?!”

The two returned to the girl and, on seeing the girl staining of the bedsheets and the crotch of her pajamas, Stan dragged his hand down his face. In a tone more of exasperation than concern, he mumbled, “Oy, yoy, yoy… Your parents haven’t explained this to you two yet?”

Ford awoke to being shook by his brother.

“Enough beauty sleep, Sixer! You’re a scientist, right?” He dragged a half-asleep Ford by the arm as Dipper followed along.

Ford wasn’t usually this easy to ambush, but the man was so, so very tired.

“Wha?” Ford followed behind his brother, bonking his head on the short doorway and rubbing at his eyes. “Augh. Of course I’m a scientist.” He yawned sleepily.

As they approached Mabel’s room, Stan stepped behind Ford and pushed him into the room. “Well, prove it. Explain to Mabel the wonders of womanhood!” Stan slammed the door shut behind his brother.

Before Ford could protest from being pushed, he heard the girl moaning in bed pathetically. He faced her to find the staining on the sheets. GlancIng back in annoyance at the door, he then watched the girl for a moment and scratched at his head.

“Grunkle Ford?” She groaned out. “I’m glad I got to see you one last time…”

“One last time?”

“I…” She bit her lip. “I think I’m dying..!”

Ford sighed. “Oh sweetheart, you’re not dying.”

“…I’m not?”

Ford cracked open the door to find Stan and Dipper listening in, and ordered them to start putting on tea. The scientist then closed the door and approached the young woman. She sat up slowly, moaning in pain.

“Welcome to the wonderful world of puberty, dear. Let’s find you a rag before we get into it.”

”And that, young lady, is why you are indeed *not* dying!” Ford declared after changing the sheets and ending his puberty lesson.

Mabel walked with a hunch back to the bed. She didn’t understand some of the diagrams Ford had sketched on napkins during his explanation, but she sighed in relief regardless. Ford held the sheets up to help her slide her feet back under the covers of the fresh sheets, but instead of laying down, she embraced the man. He was caught off guard by the girl’s affection, his brows raised as he looked down at her. He smiled. Whoever she was, Ford decided then that he liked her—she was weird! The man lightly hugged the girl back.

“Is it true Grunkle Ford?” Mabel asked as she laid down.

“Hm?”

”Is it true that you don’t remember a thing about me? About any of us?”

Ford evaded her glance up at him as he tucked her in. “That’s unfortunately true, Miss Hazel.”

“I knew it.”

”You knew what?’

”Bill tried to delete your family to make you bitter and evil like him. He’s jealous because he doesn’t have someone to tuck him in like this.” She said thoughtfully, “But even though he took a lot from you, he couldn’t change everything.” She smiled widely, her braces on full display. “No matter what, you’re a good person, and no matter what, you’re my grunkle! He couldn’t take that away!”

Stan handed Dipper the tea to deliver down the hall to his sister, but as he approached her door, the boy was bumped. The tea almost spilled as it was swiped by Gideon. “Hey! That’s for Mabel!” Dipper called out after the shorter boy.

“I’ll be getting the credit for this, thank ya very much!” The stout boy snickered connivingly. Dipper rolled his eyes, leaving well enough alone; she’d be getting the tea regardless.

Then Dipper perked to attention when Ford exited her room quietly, holding the door for Gideon to scurry in then closed it behind him softly. The two locked eyes for a second. Dipper’s desire to say the right thing ultimately prevented him from saying anything at all. His words would never be intelligent enough, worthy enough, to say to the man. As Dipper internally struggled on what exactly to say to his hero, Ford passed by him and continued off towards the kitchen. Dipper, left in the hall alone, slumped in disappointment.

Ford entered the kitchen, only to stop when he saw Stan in the room washing out a tiny teapot. The last conversation they had had of any substance was in the ship with Bill—which to Ford consisted of how they both hated each other. Ford quietly made his way to the counter to look for any semblance of a gnome-sized coffee maker.

“No coffee here.” Stan commented. “I already looked.”

“Hm.” Ford acknowledged.

The room was awkward. Stan didn’t know why, but when Ford was gone, all he had wanted was his brother back. Stan was still endlessly relieved that Ford was safe, but now that he was here, Stan didn’t know what do with it.

His train of thought was cut off by Ford asking him outright, “Bill says you erased my memory. But why would you do that? How could you do that?” Ford looked directly at Stan. “And why do I only remember Bill with any clarity?”

Stan turned around, immediately offended Ford would even accuse him of that. “Me? Erase your memory?! Why would I do that?”

Ford ignored Stan’s offense, instead noting, “As I figured. It was Bill who erased my memories of my family. It never made any sense to me why I would only be able to remember him, and only the good memories of him at that.”

“How in the hell do you have any good memories with that maniac?” Stan scoffed.

Ford took a moment to respond. “Believe it or not, Bill was once my best friend.” Ford mumbled. “He was funny, he was charismatic, he was brilliant. I just… trusted too much back then.”

Then the two noticed Dipper sauntering by the doorway twiddling his fingers, looking longingly at Ford.

Ford waved awkwardly as Dipper stood silently ahead. He whispered over to Stan, “Is the boy a mute?”

Stan exhaled through his nose in amusement, “C’mon Dip, you’re overthinking it. Just tell the guy ‘hi’.”

Dipper inhaled and began to say something, when Gideon came running past the boy, cutting off the conversation completely. “She’s starting to feel a lil’ better!” Gideon declared.

“Good,” Stan acknowledged, “then I’ll go apologize to the gnome about his sheets, if the fella even understands me. His eyes drift in opposite directions when I try to talk to him...” Stan exited the room, relieved to have an excuse to slink away from his brother.

Gideon’s stomach growled. “I’m starving! What’s for breakfast?”

The room sat silent. Dipper also realized he too was pretty darn hungry.

Dipper was about to say something, when Ford spoke up over him. “I’ll see if there’s anything around here I can put together.”

“Good!” Gideon nodded, “And make it snappy!”

Ford raised a brow, then tittered. “Do you speak to your parents like that?”

“I sure do! And my parents, they…they… My… parents…” It seemed some strange, sad emotion had just dawned on the boy at the mention of his parents. Ford and Dipper looked at the boy as he fumbled over the word. His spunk was replaced with a somber indistinguishable mutter as he removed himself from the room.

Ford and Dipper found themselves again alone in a room together. Ford opened the tiny fridge and found some eggs. The origin of these eggs were up to question, but he couldn’t be too picky at this point. “I’m not fluent in gnomish, but I did catch that Shmebulock welcomed us to anything in the fridge. I’ll whip us all up some scrambled eggs.”

Dipper twiddled his thumbs And hovered behind the man as he casually cooked. His hero was right there, and yet Ford had no memory of all the time they had spent together. The man had no clue how much he meant to the boy. Of how much his opinion of Dipper mattered to the boy. Dipper had finally found someone who made him felt truly understood, only for Bill to poof any closeness they had away as if it were dissapating smoke in the air.

His train of thought was interrupted at the sound of the eggs spattering as they cooked in the pan. Ford quickly threw a gnome-sized apron over his neck, commenting, “God knows when the next time is I’ll find an adult-sized pair of clothes.”

Dipper couldn’t help but chuckle at how ridiculous the grown man looked wearing a tiny apron. Ford looked back over his shoulder and chuckled as well. “What?” Ford laughed, “I just washed this sweater!”

Dipper smiled at the man. Yes, Grunkle Ford was his hero. Whatever Dipper would say would never come across as articulate or cool as Ford deserved. But how could Dipper have forgotten? Grunkle Ford was also his friend.

Dipper finally spoke up candidly, with an honest “I missed you, Grunkle Ford.”

Ford turned to face the boy, understanding the emotion but unable to return the sentiment. He really had no clue who this little boy was he was talking to. What was his name? Ford wondered. Oh that’s right. Ford smiled awkwardly back, “Thank you, Skipper.”

Dipper’s smile dropped slightly.

“I also found some ingredients for some rolls. Come help me mix the batter!” Ford invited as he bent over the short kitchen stove.

The boy approached the low counter and began to stir the bowl of batter. The two enjoyed the hint of normalcy together.

“Breakfast is ready Gideon!” Dipper called to the boy some time later. Following behind the boy was Stan carrying Mabel like a baby.

Mabel chuckled. “Stan it’s ok, really! I’m feeling a little better after the tea!”

Stan shook his head, “Nope, no grand-niece of mine is gonna walk her achy self to the table today!”

”Gideon!” Dipper called out.

The youngest boy looked longingly out the window. “You all have your family back together…”

Dipper, Stan, and Mabel didn’t know what to say.

Mabel sighed in Stan’s arms. “Tell ya what Gideon. You can be a substitute Pines until we get your parents back, ok?” Stan and Dipper mumbled complaints under their breath.

Gideon snorted, “Pff, like I’d ever want to be a filthy Pines! Now that’s a funny joke! Aw, Mabel, you always know how to cheer me up!”

Dipper rolled his eyes, “I’ll get Shmebulock.”

Stan, Mabel, Dipper, Gideon, and Shmebulock all sat around the gnome-sized table. Stan chose to forgo the infinitely too-small chairs and just sit upright on the floor, which put him at about the right height for the short table. The grown man held the tiny silverware delicately between his thumb and pointer finger. He looked over his shoulder to find his brother staring at the table in a daze.

“Grunkle Ford, come sit by me!“ Mabel offered.

Stan didn’t like the look of Ford wearing that thousand-mile stare.

“Stanford?” Stan prompted.

“Oh!” Ford appeared to snap out of it and smiled back. “Yes, of course!” He took a seat next to the girl, and poured himself some orange juice.

Stan subtly watched his brother’s behavior with consideration. He then shrugged it off and turned to Shmebulock. “Uh, thanks for the whole, like, taking us in during the apocalypse, gnome-guy.”

“Grunkle Stan!” Mabel scolded, “He has a name!”

“What?” Stan retorted, “I’m trying to be nice! How am I supposed to know its name? All it says is ‘Shmebulock’!“ Stan snapped right in front of the gnome’s face, and the small creature did not react. “It doesn’t seem to be the sharpest tool in the shed, is all I’m saying.”

“Shmebulock!” Shmebulock responded. The gnome’s expression remained blank, his pupils slowly drifting apart.

“See?” Stan gestured to the gnome, vindicated.

The group all had a nice breakfast. Dipper and Mabel tried to help Ford recall some fun summer adventures together, Stan bragged about punching a pterodactyl, Gideon stuffed his face, and Shmebulock looked on in two directions simultaneously. For a few minutes, gone was Weirdmageddon, the ruins of Gravity Falls, and the ever-looming threat of Bill Cipher. The family prattled on together in inanity as though it was just another sunny day in August.

That was, until Stan noticed that Ford’s hands had begun to shake as the children conversed on unaware. Stan noticed that Ford was wearing that same dazed stare he had worn before sitting down for breakfast. Ford’s breathing was becoming heavy, a bead of sweat dripped down his temple.

Stan was familiar with these symptoms from his own first months living in his car as a young man; Ford was fighting off a panic attack. Stan was about to say something when suddenly Ford’s glass shaking in his hand tipped, and orange juice spilled all over his lap.

“Uh-oh!” Mabel giggled harmlessly, handing Ford a napkin. Ford blinked rapidly.

Stan stood up from his chair. “Hey now, no worries, Stanford. After breakfast, just take off your pants and we can throw them in with my laundry, yeah?”

At that, Ford fully dropped his glass and it shattered loudly into pieces on the floor. “Take off.. my..!?”

Stan’s eyes widened as he connected his own words and Ford’s reaction. He had known not to talk to Ford about his time with Bill. Had he just made things worse by saying that? And if that was the case, what did that imply happened to Ford while he was in the Fearamid without Stan to protect him? Stan tried to save the situation, “No! I mean—!”

Ford’s pupils shrank as Bill’s lustful voice replayed in his mind:

“I was wanting to watch you take your clothes off for me!”

“The pants come off first. And while you’re at it, drop the underwear too.”

Ford bolted up from his place at the table, clumsily knocking over Mabel’s full glass, and it spilled onto her food. “I’m sorry..!” Ford breathed out as he shuffled off, leaving the table soaked and broken glass all over the floor.

“What was that!?” Gideon demanded incredulously.

Ford ducked into the room where he had slept, slammed the small door behind him. He began pacing back and forth, trying to reclaim his breathing. Hearing Bill’s voice replay like that had sent Ford into near hysteria, and it pulled out memories of all of Bill’s assaults in vivid detail. Chills ran down his spine as he swore he could almost feel Bill‘s hands rubbing along his shoulders, his waist.

Ford remembered the humiliation of stripping before the demon. He recalled the helplessness of being held down while gagging on the demon’s fingers. Worst of all, he relived the terror he felt in that corner closet as Bill cruelly, relentlessly drove him to cum against his will again and again… and again and again and again and again and again and again and again..!

Ford gasped to find he was there again, in that closet. It was before Bill had blindfolded him, only looping a gag in his mouth. Bill looked directly into Ford’s eyes as he held the man’s pant zipper with an impish expression. Ford, tied where he sat, a dim light eeking in from the crack in the door, met Bill’s taunting with a stern shake of his head. The human’s brows furrowed as he squared his shoulders as best he could with his wrists taut behind him.

Ford relived how Bill had seemed to like that reaction. “Ooo,” Bill giggled, “Are you going to tell me I’m disgusting again, Sixer? Do it, tell me how I’m a such a lowlife.” Bill purred as he slowly glided the zipper down. “Oh wait! You can’t!”

Bill reached into Ford’s pants, and the man felt Bill’s small, snake-like fingers dance along his dick. Ford pulled against his binds, giving the most clear warning he could muffle.

Then, Bill’s attention shifted lower as he slipped the man’s flaccid cock out from the flap. The demon only stared at it for a moment. Ford looked up adn away, in any attempt to dissociate from what he knew was about to happen.

“Ya know what’s crazy to me about this thing, kid?” Bill noted softly as he ran his pointer finger along the underside of it. “It’s soft right now, but with a little attention, it gets hard for me…” Bill yanked the man, forcing Ford to engage with a grunt. Bill looked up, half-lidded, “You get hard for me, Sixer.”

Ford’s back went stick straight in his chair as Bill began using both little hands to palm his dick with more enthusiasm. Ford again tried to disengage, forcing his line of vision to look straight ahead, but the heavy huffs through his nose betrayed his stoicism. His brows pushed up in shame as he felt himself stiffen between his legs as he was handled.

“There we go, doll! Now was that so hard?” Bill quipped as he lightly flicked at Ford’s growing erection. “No pun intended!”

Ford tried to ignore how Bill’s pupil followed his dick as it subtly bobbed. “Man,” Bill began, “These penis things are so much fun!” Ford was silent. “What? You got to play scientist, so I get to, too.”

Bill, not seeming to get the reaction he wanted from his human, quickened his stroking. “Did I ever tell you, Fordsy, about how I’d use you in front of your mirror when I would possesse you those nights in the 80s? How I’d watch as I’d use your own hand to pump you for hours?” Ford’s eyes widened. “That feeling? Incredible. You humans are so lucky… To have a release like that.”

“You’re so pretty, Fordsy,” Bill breathed as he looked up at the struggling man, “God, I’m so glad Fez stopped me from eating you a few days ago.”

“Mph?!” Ford muffled in concern, and began to truly fight his restraints. “I liked using you to orgasm all those years ago,” Bill continued as his pumping gained even more momentum. Ford’s breathing grew heavier as Bill’s lid turned heavy. “But what I enjoy the most is making you lose all control you’re always so hopelessly fighting for.”

Ford’s physiology was finally taking over, his hips beginning to rock forward into Bill’s waiting hands.

“So what if you’re not biologically programmed to feel natural attraction to me!” Bill quipped, “You like being handled well enough, don’t you? Better yet, let me in your head and I can make me completely irresistible to you…”

Ford groaned.

Bill then floated and placed himself to sit on top of Ford’s erection, Bill’s back against Ford’s sweater. Bill’s bottom edge was in no way comfortable against Ford’s bare penis, and Ford winced. But Bill grabbed the man’s dick again, ruthlessly pumping it in sync with his own rutting. “Ermph!” Ford muffled, clearly trying to communicate… Not that anything he would say would matter to Bill.

Bill closed his eyes and laid back into Ford’s chest and stomach as he continued to rut. “You make me so happy, Fordsy…! And I could make you so happy..! I could make you feel this way, all the time..! Forever!”

Ford moaned.

He was nearing climax. His tied hands scrambled to grip at anything, finding the chair legs to hold on to with white knuckles. The wooden chair began to creak as Ford and Bill’s movements synced together. Ford could feel himself nearing the edge.

“-ill-ah!” Ford cried through his gag. His eyes squinched shut as he lost all control and began desperately humping beneath Bill on his own accord, causing Bill to bounce slightly as he sat on the man’s cock.

“Stanford!” Bill responded, looking up adoringly at the man as he watched the orgasm tear through the man. Bill lifted one hand from Ford’s crotch to stroke the human’s cheek tenderly. “We’re not done yet, hun, not by a long shot…”

The whole nightmare continued, as Ford relived how Bill had continued pumping at him long past any pleasure could possibly be had; to the point where it was only raw and painful. And with how Ford was gagged, he couldn’t tell Bill how he couldn’t keep cumming, as sensitive and agonizing it had become.

And how would Bill have even known that human orgasms can become so incredibly painful after enough time? The alien knew next to nothing about human sexuality! Bill was getting more bold with his assaults. It was only a matter of time before, in casual cruelty or alien ignorance, Bill began to push Ford’s physiology beyond anything a human man would be capable of. What then? When would Bill be satisfied? Ford felt deeply ill as his vision darkened.

“Stanford!” He heard Bill call out.

”Stanford!” He heard Bill’s voice change.

”Stanford!” He heard Stan shout.

Ford woke up to Stan shaking him as he awoke from losing consciousness on the floor. “Stanford! Are you ok, man?” Stan helped the man up to a sitting position and kneeled by his side.

Ford hugged himself closely. “He wouldn’t stop!” Ford cried out.

Stan went in to hug Ford gently, but Ford only freaked out. “Don’t touch me!” He yelled, as he punched Stan straight in the eye.

Stan rubbed at his aching face. “Ugh! Stanford! Calm down! It’s your brother! It’s not Bill!”

Ford panted as he came back to his senses. “My… my brother?” Ford remembered himself. They then heard a knocking from the other side of the door.

“Grunkle Stan? Is Grunkle Ford alright?” Dipper asked from behind the door.

Ford grabbed onto Stan by his shirt. “The children..!” He whispered, “You can’t let them see me like this!” Ford begged.

Stan looked over Ford’s ashamed expression. “Of course not, Ford.” He whispered back.

Stan yelled back to the door. “Aw, he’s fine, don’t worry about it! He just forgot to do some… nerd… thing in here. I’m helping him take care of it!”

“…Okay…” Dipper responded and they heard him walk off.

Ford hopped to his feet and began to pace. “I can’t stay here! Bill! He’ll find me! I have to keep runnning!”

Stan grabbed his brother by the arm before he took off on his own. “Now hold on, Stanford! We just got you back!“ Stan stammered for a way to convince him to stay. “The Destabilizer!” He exclaimed, “I need your help building that Quantum Destabilizer! Can you stay here and help me?”

Ford stopped, and Stan could feel the man’s whole body quiver through his grip. “The… Quantum Destabilizer?”

Stan smiled, “It’s how we’re gonna defeat Bill Cipher!” Stan raised his fist. “Together!”

A light returned to Ford’s eyes. “Defeat… Bill Cipher? Together?”