#this could be the gifted kid burnout in me | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

millenianthemums · 6 hours ago

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chapter 5 of the fic is here! it took me a while to finish the art this time. i know i said i’d put less effort into the pieces to avoid burnout, but they’re just so fun… rendering things like this is so relaxing fsr.

FIRST

————

Bill trudged out onto the mud soaked lawn, eager to put as much distance as possible between himself and this godforsaken house. Even the woods, still soaked in darkness as the first rays of sunlight failed to reach them, appealed to him more than the Mystery Shack. Knowing he’d been dragged in there while he couldn’t fight back, he’d slept in there, under the Pines family’s floor… just the thought made his skin crawl. Seemed like even killing him wasn’t enough for them. They just had to keep humiliating him every chance they got. Offering to “help” him after everything they did was just sadistic, even for him. He’d have to remember it for the next time he had an enemy at his mercy.

He had to get out of here. Just being here was infuriating. Plus, if the kid was right about Ford being up, he might get spotted. And chances were, Ford wouldn’t be satisfied with destroying his life just once.

At the thought of Ford, Bill clenched his fists so tight that his claws pierced into his palms. This was all Ford’s fault. He’d ruined everything. He’d drawn Bill in with that sweet, innocent nerd routine, acting all impressed and grateful, listening to his stories, laughing at his jokes, making all those stupid promises about eternal fealty and partnership, and then the instant he sensed a single drawback to their deal, suddenly Bill was nothing to him. One little misstep and suddenly nothing they’d done together meant anything, because it never had, not really. All he’d ever cared about was the perks, the knowledge, the secrets of the universe, blah blah blah, he’d never cared about Bill. Not even a little. Why had Bill ever fallen for it?! If only he’d gotten anyone else to build the portal…

He stopped in his tracks. The portal. This stupid flesh brain was going to be the death of him. How had he almost forgotten about the portal?! Sure, it was deactivated, but it had to still be there! Even if it was in pieces, he knew better than anyone how to put it back together. He just had to get it running again, just for a second, and then all his problems would be over! He could get back to the Nightmare Realm, grab his power source, and be back in business!

He hadn’t crossed over the stupid Bill-proof barrier around the shack yet, on the off-chance it might still affect him. Just to be sure, he stuck close to the outer wall as he crossed around to the back door of the gift shop. It was locked, of course, but Bill hadn’t forgotten everything. The birch trees near the house had given him plenty of angles to see where Stan and that dopey employee of his looked for the spare key when they locked themselves out. Sure enough, it was still tucked under the same fake rock nestled against the stairs. As quietly as possible, he eased the door open and stepped inside.

The place was as dark and empty as he’d hoped. Hokey glass-eyed chimeras, stitched together from whatever random taxidermy scraps the thrift store or dump had to offer, leered down at him from every angle as he crept across the room, hiding in the blind spots of the security cameras. This place hadn’t gotten any less embarrassing in the months since he’d seen it; if anything, it looked kitschier and dumber than ever. The random garbage being passed off as “magical objects” and the taxidermy crimes against nature weren’t even trying to look convincing, but perhaps because of that, they were weirder and more eye-catching than ever. As much as he hated to give Stanley Pines any kind of credit, Bill had to admit the sheer level of silliness and brazen, gleeful fraud on display was pretty admirable.

The vibe of the Mystery Shack might have changed a little, but thankfully, the layout hadn’t. The vending machine marking the secret basement door was still right where he’d expected it to be. Those chumps hadn’t even bothered to change the passcode. As he scurried down the stairs, the first genuine laugh since his resurrection began to bubble up from his throat. This was almost too easy.

The laugh died a sudden, violent death the instant he rounded the corner and looked out into the basement.

The portal still seemed to be technically there. Most of it, at least. But the massive, triangular frame had been knocked over and shattered into pieces across the stone floor. The metal was twisted, charred, every visible surface bearing scars and dents as if someone had spent months on end viciously attacking it with every available weapon. Not a single remaining component was unscathed; anything salvageable must have been scavenged for parts. The monolithic structure, this thing that represented millenia of planning and years upon years of hard work and partnership, now resembled nothing more than a heap of scrap metal. Torn apart. He literally tore the damn thing apart.

Bill felt his knees buckle beneath him. He caught himself just before toppling over, slamming a hand against a countertop and leaning against it. This couldn’t be real. Someone had to be playing a sick prank on him. They shattered it. They literally shattered his only lifeline, again. This was a torment he’d pass up for being too on the nose. He was laughing again, but there was no joy in it this time. He just couldn’t help it. This was all just too funny.

Still doubled over with laughter, he started grasping across the counter for something to break. Something to throw as hard as he could, or crush in his hands, or something. Anything. He didn’t care if he made noise, didn’t care if he got caught. He just wanted to destroy something. But of course, just his luck, the countertop was totally clear…

Wait. It was not like Ford to keep a clean countertop.

Bill pushed himself up and took his first clear look at the lab he was standing in. As his eye swept across the cavernous basement, a glimmer of hope started building inside him. Aside from the wreckage of the portal, the place was completely empty. Stripped right down to the floorboards. Squinting, he made out the vague impressions left behind where he’d disturbed the layers of dust coating everything. He was the first living thing to set foot down here in months.

Ford had moved his lab upstairs. Bill put a hand to his face, reeling from the shock of delight. Oh, that poor idiot. He’d ventured up out of his sad little cave to be closer to his precious family. And he’d left the remnants of the portal unguarded.

And why not? The big bad triangle was dead. There was no reason to think he’d ever come back for it. After all, with all that damage, even with Bill’s intricate knowledge of the device’s construction, it would take him months of nonstop work to get it even close to operable again. And there was no way he’d be able to sneak in and out of the shack that many times without being seen by anybody.

Unless he was in the shack the whole time.

Another laugh burst out of him, and this one was pure, utter glee. His old pal Shooting Star had come through for him again. She’d handed him the answer to all his problems on a silver platter, and he’d almost missed it! He’d thought it was too easy, that nobody would ever be that generous to somebody they knew would turn on them, who already tricked them the same way once… but he definitely wasn’t complaining. If Shooting Star really thought helping him was a good idea, he was more than happy to let her keep thinking that.

He’d need to make this convincing, he told himself as he snuck back out the way he came. He’d need to really sell the sob story. Make it seem like he had no chance at surviving even one day without her help. He’d have to swallow his pride a little– maybe even a lot. But it would all be worth it in the end. Shooting Star thought he was a helpless sad sack she could win over with pity, so he would play that part. Just for a little while. Just long enough to get the portal up and running. And then he’d never have to answer to anyone else again.

And he’d show her and her whole family just how far pity would get them.

After Mabel had watched Bill scramble out the window with all the poise and grace of a drunk raccoon, she’d trudged upstairs, face planted onto her bed, and passed out within seconds. She didn’t move again until after 1 PM, when Dipper helped Waddles clamber up onto her bed and she was forced to wake up or be crushed to death.

As the enormous pig did his best to climb up and settle on Mabel’s back, she wheezed in protest and flailed out from under him, slumping face-first onto the floor. She aimed a beleaguered stare up at Dipper, who looked entirely too pleased with himself, and said “Et tu, Brute?”

“Definitely not how to pronounce that,” Dipper said with a snort. “Waddles missed you. He wanted to make sure you were alive.”

“I am, no thanks to you guys,” Mabel said with a giggle. Dipper grabbed her hand and hauled her to her feet, and she cupped Waddles’ face and rubbed his big cheeks. “You’re not a lap pig anymore, Mr. Sir! You’re the size of a fridge!”

Waddles stretched out contentedly until his widdle back hooves dangled off the mattress, shoving his face into Mabel’s hands. Turns out farm hogs don’t stay adorably travel-sized for long; in less than nine months, he’d gone from fitting snugly in a backpack to almost being big enough to ride. She hadn’t convinced him to stand up with her on his back yet, but she suspected it was less about strength and more about motivation. He always just stared at her like “I know you have legs, bestie.”

In any case, his adorability had only increased as he grew. Mabel gave him a tiny kiss on his flat pink nose, and he oinked softly in response.

“I still can’t believe he even fit on the bus,” Dipper said, patting Waddles on the tummy. “It’s a miracle the bus driver let us bring him.”

“I think he was scared of us,” Mabel laughed. “Probably thought Waddles’d eat him.”

Dipper scoffed. “This guy won’t eat carrots if they’re too crunchy. He’s not gnawing through human bones.”

“I dunno, that bus driver looked kinda calcium deficient.”

Dipper laughed and nudged her shoulder. “C’mon, goofball, go get changed. We’re hitting the lake today, remember?”

—

That lake day was the best day of the summer thus far. Every day they’d been back here– except maybe yesterday– had been the best day of the summer thus far. They hadn’t taken a boat out; Stan and Ford both agreed they’d spent more than enough time on a boat recently, thank you very much. They just found a good spot on the beach and swam, and skipped rocks, and attempted a game of volleyball (none of them were any good at spiking the ball, and it devolved into dodgeball pretty quick), and just goofed around together like a normal family. After all the drama last year, it was just so unbelievably awesome that she and her three favorite people could finally just be a normal, happy family.

Eventually, the sun made its way to the other end of the sky. Mabel had brought her bike along in the car trunk, planning to ride it home just for fun. Once the sunlight turned orange and the shadows started to stretch, Stan pointed out that she��d need to head back soon to catch the last of the daylight. She agreed she’d rather not have to bike home in the dark twice in two days, so she waved goodbye to everybody, joked that now somebody else would finally have a turn to win at dodgeball, and set off for home.

If she had a choice, Mabel seldom preferred to do anything alone. Maybe it was just because she was a twin, and had spent her whole life with a teammate, a best friend who was always there to watch her back while she watched his. Maybe growing up that way meant she never learned how to be alone without feeling like a turtle without its shell. But whatever the reason, if she spent too long by herself, it started to feel like drowning.

But sometime last fall, she’d realized just how fast she could go on a bike. And suddenly she just couldn’t get enough of it, and Dipper, bless him, he’d tried his best to keep up with her, but his poor nerd legs just couldn’t pedal that fast. So she’d told him she preferred solo biking now, and he’d gratefully accepted the excuse not to accompany her on her daily rides.

She really did love the speed. Watching the trees zip by until they blurred into a solid wall of green, feeling the wind lift her hair so it flowed behind her like a tail, keeping pace with crows gliding through the sky above. It was worth a little solitude. And if Dipper knew she’d rather he go with her, he’d bust a lung or fall over and break his arm, or at the very least be uncomfortable and embarrassed the whole time. So it wasn’t a big deal. Really, she was fine with it. Right now, as she traced the twisting road up into the rolling, forested hills and toward the Mystery Shack, she felt almost completely content. Watching the clouds roll gently overhead, catching glints of orange and pink from the setting sun, the songs of birds and crickets washing away any pesky thoughts as she let herself be absorbed into this moment–

“AAAAAUGH!”

Mabel slammed the handlebars sideways and sent her bike careening off the pavement as a flash of gold raced past, just barely fast enough to not collide with her. She couldn’t look at it and save her bike from crashing down the steep hill beside the road at the same time, so by the time she’d managed to wrangle it to a stop, it was gone from sight. But that shrill scream she’d heard, the one she’d mistaken for a fox earlier, hadn’t gone away. And the road wasn’t empty. More small shapes were racing across it, chasing the thing, and these ones were all too recognizable. Her hunch was confirmed when one of them lost its footing and didn’t quite clear the brush at the edge of the forest. An antler snagged against a branch, and a tiny thing covered in sandy brown fur started screeching and thrashing around so violently that Mabel grabbed her grappling hook on impulse. Finally it broke free and joined the pack chasing after the screaming gold thing. Jackalopes. Dozens of the mean little things. And she had a pretty good idea who they were after.

She swung her bike around, and against her better judgment she biked after the throng of bunnies. Sure enough, she was proven right yet again. Just a few dozen feet past the tree line, Bill Cipher, the antagonist of most of her worst recent nightmares, was trying to balance on the top branch of a pine sapling just barely large enough to support his weight, as the jackalopes gathered at its base and leapt up at him, jabbing with their sharp antlers, almost but not quite able to jump as high as he’d climbed. Bill hadn’t stopped screaming since she’d first heard him.

This was certainly one way to cure a phobia.

Mabel jumped off her bike and threw the back trunk open. Frantically, she rifled around through her emergency supplies; multitool, slingshot, glowsticks, sack of ball bearings, fake gold jewelry for tricking fey… maybe Dipper was right about traveling light…

“ARE YOU PLANNING ON HELPING?!” Bill had spotted her, and most of his fear had turned into indignance.

“One second!” Mabel yelled, tossing snacks and weapons aside.

“OH, NO RUSH! TAKE YOUR TIME, NOT LIKE THERE’S ANYTHING URGENT GOING ON– OW!!!” He screeched; Mabel whipped her head around to see that one of those antler jabs had caught him in the ankle. Shiny silver blood poured from the gash.

Mabel wrenched the basket off the bike and dumped it out onto the ground. Finally, her target was revealed: an air horn. She raced toward the frenzy of rabbits and held it aloft. “Hey!” she roared, and just as the jackalopes turned their attention to her, she slammed down on the button as hard as she could.

A shrill, deafening honk crashed against every tree in the forest, filling the air with sound. The jackalopes, as one, all screeched in agony, recoiling from the horn and flattening their ears against the noise. A bold one bared its fangs at her, but she pointed the horn closer and kept the button held down, and soon every jackalope had retreated into the woods. Once they were out of sight, she released the button, and the world was just dull ringing for a few seconds, until her hearing returned with the sound of a sapling breaking in half.

She turned to see Bill lying prone on the ground again, painfully picking himself up. She considered offering her hand, then figured that would just embarrass him further, then figured she didn’t really care and reached toward him anyway. He glared up at her. For a second, he seemed to consider accepting it, but then he stood up on his own with a pained grunt, grabbing the top half of the broken tree and steadying himself on it like a cane to keep the weight off his injured leg. Mabel winced as she realized it was the same one Scout had gotten ahold of the other day. At least he had one leg that maybe didn’t hurt?

“...You okay?” Mabel asked, after a long silence.

His eye turned to stare at her disdainfully. “WHAT DOES IT LOOK LIKE.”

She stared back at him for a second, assessing. Then she looked away again, examining the trees. She could see that he could see that she could see he looked terrible. He was all scraped up again, his old wounds not quite healed yet and joined by lots of new ones. His legs were caked to the knees with dried mud, probably from a long day of wading through the river and falling down ledges and stepping in gopher holes. He was teetering in place, visibly exhausted. His hat looked almost spotless, like he’d been shielding it at all costs, but his bow tie was in dire need of a spin cycle. And his arms and legs were more bug bites than skin at this point.

She figured she should say something. Fidgeting nervously with her sweater sleeve, she said “It looks like you forgot bug spray.”

To her surprise, he laughed. It was a short, loud bark of a laugh, but it was a laugh. She looked back at him to see he was sitting on the ground, leaning his face against his hands. He looked up at her. “YOU GUYS REALLY JUST LIVE WITH MOSQUITOS, HUH. THEY’RE JUST… AROUND. ALL THE TIME.”

“Well, not in winter,” Mabel offered.

Bill laughed again. It was a little bit more like a real laugh this time; still definitely not happy, more numb bemusement, but it felt like an improvement. “GREAT!” he said. “JUST SIX MORE MONTHS.” He covered his face again.

Mabel looked down at him, watching cautiously. Her hand was tight around the handle of her grappling hook, ready for trouble, just in case this was somehow all a trap. Heck, maybe this was all part of his plan. Maybe he lured out those jackalopes and got himself into a second near-death experience just so she could find him and completely let her guard down. Maybe this was just a big, elaborate, 4D chess evil mastermind long con.

Suddenly he looked up and shouted “WHAT?!?” Mabel jumped back, and by pure muscle memory, her hand shot up to brandish the grappling hook. Unfortunately, her hands had gotten sweaty from all the excitement, and as the hook reached the peak of its arc, she lost her grip on it completely. It sailed out of her grasp, whipped through the air and hit Bill in the side of the face with a loud, solid CLONK.

Bill clutched his head where she’d hit him, too shocked to even yell in pain. Mabel was quicker to react. “Oh my gosh. Oh my gosh I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean– hang on…” She sifted through her pockets and grabbed her bag of band-aids, and before even thinking about what she was doing, she was already kneeling beside him and pressing a starry band-aid over the bleeding welt between his scales.

Bill recoiled from her touch again, pupil dilated in terror as he scrambled backwards. Mabel pulled back quickly, raising her hands. “I’m sorry,” she whispered, throat clenched tight from panic at the thought that he might strike back.

They both noticed the grappling hook at the same time. It had landed in the grass right next to Bill, easily within reach. Slowly, to her terror, he picked it up and turned it over in his hands. She clenched her hands into fists at her sides, her last line of defense. Like Grunkle Stan had taught her: when all else fails, there’s always punching.

But he didn’t shoot her. Instead, he turned the grappling hook over again and extended an arm, holding it out to her handle-first.

Mabel looked at him appraisingly for a second, then slowly reached out and took the grappling hook from him. She returned it to its holster, and then hesitantly held out the bag of band-aids. “Your leg’s still bleeding,” she said softly. “You can pick.”

Bill sighed and accepted the band-aids. Sifting through, he muttered, “YOU GOT A LOT OF THESE STAR ONES, HUH.”

Mabel gave an apologetic laugh. “I like stars,” she said.

Bill let out a soft chuckle in return. After a bit more searching, he chose another star-patterned band-aid and handed the bag back.

“Well, uh… I’ll get out of your hair,” Mabel said awkwardly, starting to scoop all her supplies into the basket and shove it back into place on her bike. “I know you said you didn’t want my help–”

“WAIT,” Bill said. She turned back to look at him; he looked like he was about to say something he really didn’t want to say.

“LOOK,” he said. “I… I DON’T KNOW WHERE I’M GOING. I DON’T HAVE A PLAN, OR ANYWHERE TO STAY, I DON’T EVEN KNOW WHEN I’M GONNA HAVE FOOD AGAIN. I THINK AT THIS POINT…” he took a deep breath and forced the last words out with the air, “...I NEED ALL THE HELP I CAN GET. IF YOUR OFFER STILL STANDS, I’LL TAKE IT.”

Mabel didn’t know what to say. She was stunned, full deer-in-the-headlights paralyzed. She twisted the edge of her sweater tight in her hands, trying to ground herself. She knew this was a bad idea. She knew she’d regret it. But in some strange way, she knew there was only one way this could go. She’d made the offer already. There was no going back.

“You’ll have to stay hidden for a while,” she said. “At least until I figure out how to tell Dipper and the Grunkles. And you’ll have to stay close by, so I know you’re not sneaking out to do evil world domination stuff. I’ll help you out with food and stuff, but you have to play by my rules as long as you’re staying with us, or you’re on your own.” She stared straight into his eye. “And you have to swear, on pain of death, that you won’t hurt anybody.”

He stared back evenly. “I SWEAR.”

She held his gaze. This seemed way too easy. “You’re really not gonna stab me in the back?”

“KID,” he said wearily. “I WOULDN’T DO THIS IF I HAD ANY OTHER OPTION. IF I STABBED YOU NOW, I’D GO DOWN WITH YOU.”

Mabel took in a long, deep breath and let it out slowly. “Okay. Just for a little while. As long as you promise not to make me regret this.”

“YOU GOT YOURSELF A DEAL.” Bill extended a hand for her to shake, seemingly as a reflex. Just as reflexively, Mabel flinched back, expecting it to erupt in blue fire like it did last summer. But it didn’t take long for them both to realize, with embarrassment, that things didn’t work like that anymore.

“We’re not shaking on it,” Mabel said. Bill put his hand back down, looking glad for the excuse.

Mabel finished packing up and climbed back onto her bike. “We should hurry if we wanna beat the others to the shack,” she said. “C’mon, get in the basket.”

Bill looked affronted. “SORRY. WHAT?!”

Mabel pointed to the front basket, in case that was where the confusion lay.

“WHAT AM I, A BUSHEL OF TURNIPS?! I’M NOT RIDING IN THE BASKET!”

“I mean, this isn’t a two-seater, so the other option is walking all the way there on that leg,” Mabel said with a shrug. “Which is fine if you really want. I won’t stop you. I’d just much rather ride on the bike if it were up to me. I’d be worried about being stuck out here after dark, and if the jackalopes come back–”

“ALRIGHT, ALRIGHT! I GET IT!” Bill clambered up into the basket. Just like last time, he fit perfectly. He looked furious about it.

As they cycled along the trail, gliding between slowly deepening shadows and bright patches of golden sunlight, Mabel could tell Bill was nodding off. “You can sleep if you want,” she said. “I’m a smooth driver. I carried you all the way to the shack in that basket last night, and you didn’t wake up once.”

“DON’T TELL ME THAT,” Bill groaned, straining to stay awake. “HASN’T MY DIGNITY SUFFERED ENOUGH?”

“Not even close,” Mabel said.

—

Mabel suspected Bill had drifted off by the time they reached the shack. But when she stopped the bike in the driveway, he jolted to awareness and lurched out of the basket as fast as he could. He stumbled and brushed himself off, looking like he’d faced the worst indignity of his life. “LET’S GET INSIDE QUICK,” he said, striding purposefully ahead of Mabel. “I DON’T WANT TO GET SPOTTED, I’VE HAD ENOUGH STRESS FOR ONE DAY–”

Then he seemed to smack his head on thin air. With a yelp, he staggered back away from the invisible obstacle, holding his face like he’d been zapped by something. Mabel trotted up to him, just in time to see a shimmer of light flash across an invisible membrane in the air, highlighting the shapes of strange runes and symbols as it slid up across a massive dome that seemed to encase the entire Mystery Shack.

“Oh yeah,” she said thoughtfully. “That.”

“ARE YOU KIDDING ME?!?” Bill shrieked. “I DON’T HAVE ANY OF MY POWERS, BUT THAT STUPID DOME STILL WORKS?! HOW IS THAT FAIR?! I HAVE TO BE STUCK AS A MISERABLE PATHETIC MEATSACK AND STILL DEAL WITH ALL THE STUPID CURSES AND SHIT FROM BEFORE?!? WHAT NEXT, AM I ALLERGIC TO PEANUTS TOO?!? WHAT KIND OF ABSOLUTE x7*&^@^%%$--” he cut himself off and glanced back at Mabel, wincing. “DON’T REPEAT THAT,” he said to her.

“I don’t even know what it was,” Mabel said honestly. She thought maybe a bug had buzzed past her ear while he was talking, because she’d totally missed that last word somehow. Also her vision was a little fuzzy for a second, but then she blinked and it was normal again.

“You passed through the barrier just fine when you were asleep in the basket,” she pointed out.

Bill sighed heavily. “CAN YOU STOP MENTIONING THAT?”

“I’m just saying… hmm.” Mabel walked her bike up to where the membrane had been, and crossed it halfway. Then she held out a hand to Bill.

He looked at her, confused and annoyed. She’d tried this twice before and it hadn’t worked, but maybe the third time was the charm. “C’mon, humor me,” she said.

Bill kept staring at her, looking like he wanted to just turn around and walk back into the woods. But then, slowly, he squeezed his eye shut and reached out his hand toward hers. She grabbed it, and he winced like he’d gotten a static shock. His skin was cold, rough and pebbly, like really old leather. She pulled him forward, almost without meaning to– he really did weigh basically nothing– and walked him through the barrier. It was effortless, no indication that anything had been in the way at all. She couldn’t even really tell when exactly they’d passed through it. But regardless, they’d gotten through.

“Knew it!” Mabel released Bill’s hand so she could flap her hands excitedly. “It’s like a vampire thing! You can only enter the shack if one of us invites you in.”

“GREAT,” Bill muttered. He was holding up the hand she’d just let go of, just staring at it, like it had changed in some way he couldn’t quite define. Like holding hands was the most harrowing experience he’d had today.

“Okay, maybe it’s not the best vampire power to have…” Mabel began, trying to lighten the mood. “But at least the sun doesn’t kill you. And you can eat food, and cross running water…”

“YEP,” he cut in, scowling into the distance. “LEARNED THAT FROM EXPERIENCE.”

“...and hold crosses, probably, if you want… and eat garlic! Unless you’re like a cat and it’ll make you sick… and…” Mabel trailed off. “Is it just me or are vampires a downgrade in, like, every way.”

Bill snorted. “IT’S SUPPOSED TO BE A CURSE, KID. DID YOU MISS THAT PART?”

“Well, yeah, I’ve heard boring people call it a curse lots of times, but in those books and movies and shows and stuff it seems like everybody wants to be a vampire!” she protested. “They act like it’s so cool. I mean, I guess you can live forever or something, but, like, you can’t go outside! Or into any building where you don’t know the owner. And Italian food? Forget it! After hundreds of years, that would get sooo old. What’s the point of living forever if it’s no fun?”

Bill shrugged.

“But people always call it a curse for such boring reasons. Like ‘ooh, they’re evil creatures of the night’ or whatever. So I just wrote them off.”

“THAT’S FAIR, ACTUALLY,” Bill chuckled.

“Anyway, the point is,” Mabel concluded, opening the front door and waving Bill in like a fancy bellhop, “Maybe things aren’t great right now, but at least you’re not a vampire. Count your blessings.”

“YEAH, YEAH,” Bill said, rolling his eye as he entered the shack. “I GUESS THINGS COULD BE WO-OOOH WHAT THE HELL IS THAT”

Mabel spun to see what he’d screamed at, hand on her grappling hook again, but was greeted by Waddles lumbering up from the living room to greet her. She squealed with delight and held out her arms to catch his big pudgy head as he shoved it into her sweater, snuffling happily. “I missed you too, baby boy!” she cooed, squishing his chubby pink cheeks as he nuzzled against her.

After a bit, she happened to glance up at Bill, and couldn’t suppress a laugh. He was staring up at Waddles with by far the most baffled expression she’d ever seen in a single eye. “HOW LONG WAS I GONE?” he finally asked, stepping forward and then quickly backing up as Waddles, who was a full head taller than him now, started to snuffle curiously toward him.

“Oh, yeah. It’s June 2013.” Mabel diverted Waddles’ attention with more face rubs, and he went back to cuddling her. “Turns out farm pigs get really big, really fast! My dad was less than pleased!”

Bill just kept staring as Waddles flopped over onto the floor with a heavy thunk, his energy spent. “...NOTED,” he said. He gave the pig a wide berth as he followed Mabel further into the house. As affronted as she was at the notion of anyone finding Waddles “scary”, Mabel couldn’t really blame him for being cautious. There was a non-zero chance that Waddles might mistake him for a piece of cheese at some point.

“That’s why I’m such a good cyclist now, by the way,” Mabel said, leading Bill downstairs toward Gay Baby Jail. “Dad was like, ‘okay, we can keep the pig, but only if you raise enough money to buy all the stuff we need and build a shed for him and stuff!’ So I did a morning paper route every single day for like six months. And Dipper did a bunch of odd jobs to help raise enough money, and in the end we paid for everything Waddles needed and Mom called Dad out like “You signed a CONTRACT, Robert!” So Waddles got to stay.”

“YOU DID HARD LABOR FOR A PIG?” Bill laughed derisively. “YOU COULD’VE JUST BLACKMAILED HIM, KID! I SAW YOUR DREAMS LAST SUMMER, YOU’VE GOT SOME SERIOUS DIRT ON ROB PINES–”

“Anyway,” Mabel said loudly. “My legs are super strong now. Put me on one of those big hamster wheels, I could power California for like a week.” With that, she threw open the door.

Light spilled from the hallway into Gay Baby Jail, and Mabel couldn’t help but wince a bit. She ducked inside and scooped up some of the snack wrappers still lying on the floor. “We can spruce it up a little,” she said. “Add some fun posters, some gamer lights, maybe a lava lamp… more furniture too, ideally… I mean, hey, it’s a blank slate, right? Infinite possibilities! That’s exciting!”

Bill looked around with a half-lidded eye. “MYTHOLOGICAL SCHOLAR, ELECTRICIAN, REALTOR… REGULAR JACK OF ALL TRADES, AIN’T YA?”

“You bet!” Mabel chirped. She knew he was trying to be rude, and she didn’t care. “I can make this work. I’m great at everything. Heck, I bet I can even make it fun!”

Bill laughed. Maybe it was wishful thinking, but she thought it sounded more amused than contemptuous. “I’LL TAKE YOU UP ON THAT. SOME CASH COULDN’T HURT RIGHT NOW.”

Through the window above, Mabel heard an engine approaching. “We’ll figure that out later,” she said. “I better go meet them. I’ll be back with food later, the bathroom and stuff’s back there… just stay here until I get back, okay?”

“WAIT, HOLD ON,” he blurted out, and she stopped mid-door-slam. “YOU’RE NOT GONNA TELL THEM I’M HERE. RIGHT?”

“...Yeah. Not yet.” Mabel shifted uncomfortably. “Not until I can think of how to break it to them…”

“KID, LISTEN.” Bill’s voice was grave. “YOUR UNCLES CANNOT FIND OUT ABOUT ME. PINETREE, MAYBE. MAYBE THAT’D BE FINE. BUT STAN AND FORD? NO CHANCE. THEY CAN’T FIND OUT.”

Mabel frowned, clenching the hem of her sweater in her fists. “I mean… I could get them to listen–”

“NO. ” His voice ricocheted around the tiny room. “FORD SPENT HALF HIS LIFE TRYING TO KILL ME AT ALL COSTS. STAN DID KILL ME, AND EVEN IF IT WAS JUST DUMB LUCK, HE MIGHT HIT THAT JACKPOT AGAIN! IF THEY FIND ME HERE, THEY WILL KILL ME, AND I HAVE NO WAY TO STOP THEM. AND I CAN’T GO BACK, OKAY? I’M NOT GOING BACK!!”

Mabel had been backing away on instinct; she realized it when her back hit the wall of the hallway. But the shock snapped her out of her fear, and she stomped back in and yelled “HEY!”

Bill went quiet. He stared at her in shock.

“I don’t want to send you back, Bill,” she said. Her voice was shaking a little, residual fear clinging to her throat, but her tone was firm. “That’s the whole point of all this. If I wanted you dead, you wouldn’t be here.”

Bill just blinked. For once, he didn’t seem to have anything to say.

“I’m not going to tell them yet,” she said. “And when I do, I’ll warn you first. And I’ll have a plan. I’ll make sure they don’t kill you, okay?” Unless they have to, she added in her head. She figured it went without saying.

“...OKAY. GOOD.” Bill looked off-balance, like he hadn’t expected to get this far.

“And you’ll make sure I don’t regret helping you. Right?”

“RIGHT. PROMISE.” Then, reluctantly, right before the door closed: “...THANK YOU.”

Mabel didn’t buy that for a second. He was definitely up to something. But Stan’s car was pulling up outside, and again, it was too late to backpedal. She gave a short wave and then slammed and locked the door behind her, scurrying upstairs to sit on the couch with Waddles in the living room, like she’d been there all along, just in time to look totally natural when the front door opened.

“Of course there are still a few small issues with the auto-scaling.” Ford’s voice rang through the house. “But really, the problems it causes are negligible.”

“How ‘bout the time that kraken almost sunk the boat because you tried to set it to 1.5 and forgot the decimal?”

“That was human error, Stanley, that had nothing to do with the prototype–”

“Welcome back, guys!” Mabel rushed up to them, Waddles lumbering behind her to shove his face into Dipper’s shirt.

“Hey pumpkin!” Stan ruffled Mabel’s hair. “You really did beat us home!”

“Told you she was fast on that bike!” Dipper said, petting Waddles and trying to stop him from chewing on his hat. “You see now why I couldn’t keep up with her?”

“Yeah, I’m a superhero, basically,” Mabel preened. “Watch, I’ll go carry all the beach stuff inside by myself. It won’t even be hard.”

“No need!” Ford piped up excitedly. With a flourish, he produced a tiny box and what looked like a laser pointer from his coat pocket. Stan started to say something, but before he could get a word out, Ford tossed the box into the air and zapped it with the laser pointer. In a sudden flash of purple light, the box and its contents grew into full-sized beach chairs, pool floaties, picnic supplies and everything else they’d brought to the lake. It all hit the floor with a crash.

“It’s a more efficient take on the shape-changing flashlight you two invented,” Ford explained. “It auto-scans an object’s default dimensions and can rescale them by any multiple you want with the push of a button! Turns out it makes packing a breeze–”

“Sixer!” Stan yelled with a frustrated laugh. “The whole point of using that thing was to not have to carry that stuff to the garage! Now it’s all piled up in front of the door!”

Ford winced. “Oh. Right.”

“I got it!” Mabel leapt into action. Heroically, she grabbed up all the heaviest things in the pile, started to run for the garage, tripped on a chair leg, and fell on her face. She was laughing before she even hit the ground, and soon they all were.

Dipper reached a hand down to help her up. “Hold on, doofus. I got your back.”

—

Luckily for Bill, the walls of his temporary room were insulated enough to drown out almost any sound before it reached the rest of the shack. It would be hard to make enough noise to give himself away.

Unluckily for Bill, Gay Baby Jail was not particularly good at keeping out noise from the rest of the shack. The ceiling, in particular, was like a steel drum with how every step and jump and fumble of the Pines upstairs echoed through it with painful clarity. It sounded like they were playing a rousing game of “Who Can Throw The Heaviest Thing on the Floor”. And the familiar sound of Ford’s obnoxious hiking boots tromping across the floor, like heavy cloven hooves, echoed loudest of all. And Bill was supposed to be the demon here.

He curled up on the beanbag chair and tried to block out the sound with a blanket. Not that he had ears that he knew of, but he had to try something. It wasn’t just the stomping and the crashing. It was the laughing. They were laughing up there, shrill and careless, like a hoard of jackals. This family of traitors and murderers. They put him in the ground, and they were laughing.

He tried to reroute his train of thought. Things weren’t all bad. In fact, they were a lot better now than they were yesterday. He had a roof over his head– thin and noisy as it was– and he had a plan. He just had to wait until they all fell asleep. Then he’d sneak out and assess things. Scope out the area, find out what he needed for the portal and what was here to work with. He knew there were a lot of useful tools and parts hidden in the shack’s various storage rooms, and he knew where to find the things that weren’t here. He had plenty of time to figure it all out.

And best of all, he had an ally. A mole in the enemy camp. His eye crinkled with amusement at the thought. Ford’s own precious little niece working against him in secret. He couldn’t let him find out, of course. But by god, if he ever did, Bill hoped he’d get to see the look on his face.

It was a really lucky break that Shooting Star was the one to find him. The universe owed him a little luck at this point, he supposed. She was the least intolerable of all the Pines by far; that wasn’t a high bar to clear, but it was something. She was compulsively helpful and much too nice for her own good. She was even kind of fun to talk to; her goofy, weird non-sequiturs were hard not to smile at. And she was perhaps the only person in Gravity Falls who was dumb enough to help him.

No. Not dumb. That was the wrong word. She wasn’t dumb, not really. He knew she was clever from how things went last year, and he could tell from their conversations that she wasn’t naive enough to really trust him. She wasn’t dumb. She was something even better. She was optimistic. That meant that even if she saw red flags, even if she started to notice something fishy, chances were good that she’d still look past them, still hold out hope that she was making the right choice. She’d have hope. And that would be her downfall.

His eye drifted shut. Everything would be fine. All the pieces were in place. He just had to play the game until the portal was ready, and then he’d be home free.

The trick would be staying sane until then.

#gravity falls #mabel pines #bill cipher #bill & mabel friendship au #mabel’s guide to the power of friendship #milleniart #robin writes stuff

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