Interior Designing
Disclaimer: I DO NOT own Gravity Falls. Alex Hirsch does
White. It was such a bland colour, and he hated it. Hated how something so uninteresting, so disgustingly plain could take up so much space in the mindscape. Even if he could just splatter red all over the walls, the floor, the never ending ceiling above him, its still there, crusted beneath hundreds and thousands of layers of paint, mocking him. White.
It drove him crazy, crazier than usual. All that freakin' white, never going away no matter what he did. It frustrated him, angered him, drove him absolutely up the wall, hissing and spitting at its hideousness.
"Stop it, stop it, stop it, stop it!" he roared in an inhumane way, his usual yellow triangular body tearing apart in response to his emotions, red beginning to eat away the vibrant yellow as rage consumed him.
His shape grew in size, making him taller and more terrifying than any giant humans could have ever hoped to depict; his stick hand waved about him, in his way of accusing everything and nothing, for inciting his wrath.
White. White. White. White.
"You, you, you! Stop it! Stop looking at me!" he snarled, his hands dangerously a lit with blue-bell flames, his single eye narrowed to slits in his fury. Lobbing his fiery hands at nothing in particular, the mindscape which was so empty and hollow of activity soon became a fiery death trap.
And he stood in the middle of it, watching almost contently at how his flames were managing to eat away the, the...he felt himself twist his face into a scowl. That horrible colour that he hated. It was gone. All gone.
But as the fire died down, his anger surged back again ready to blast everything to kingdom come, because he was ready to try anything to stop the it from winking at him.
"You damn freakin' walls," he roared viciously, his eyes blazing red as he aimed his lasers at everything he saw. "I will end you, you hear me! I. WILL. END. YOU!"
Bill Cipher absolutely hated white.
"-so that's why you have to make a deal with me, Shooting Star!"
"You want me to what?" Mabel asked incredulously, eyeing the yellow demon suspiciously over the tips of her knitting needles. She had been busy knitting a new sweater for Dipper - a blue and white striped one with the picture of a pine tree in the middle - when Bill suddenly burst into the room - he told her that dramatic entrances were very very important - and started talking about making a deal with him.
Bill made an annoyed sound. "Weren't you listening at all? You need to make a deal with me so that I don't have to stare at white walls for the rest of my eternal existence!" Bill floated nearer to her. "So what do you say, Star? We have a deal?"
Mabel stared at him, eyes wide. "What?"
If he had a mouth and a face, coupled with that stink-eye he was giving her, she would have confidently said he was scowling. But he was a triangle. So that was just ridiculous. "How many times to I have to say it?!" Bill exclaimed, frustrated that Shooting Star could not understand how dire his situation is. He was going crazy, and here he was degrading himself to ask the most colourful person in the multiple dimensions and she just didn't get it. "Just shake my hand, Star."
Mabel looked at his hand, and back at him. "Are you crazy?" she blurted out, before her hands flew to her mouth. Bill made another annoyed sound, but she held up her hand before he could answer her.
"Wait, don't answer that. Of course, you are," she muttered, setting down her knitting needles. "Pull yourself together Mabel. This is not real. Probably just a crazy bad dream where Bill Cipher is asking you to redecorate the mindscape because it's making him of all people crazier than usual. This is all not real, you're not there," she said pointing to Bill, before pointing to her bed. "And I am right now just sleeping in my bed, like a normal person."
Bill looked at her aghast. "Did you just - of course I'm real Shooting Star!" Bill screeched, stomping his tiny feet in mid-air. "How could you even say that to me?! I'm the realest person -triangle, you'll ever meet!"
"So you're actually serious?" Mabel said in disbelief, cocking her head to the side. "You want me to make a deal with you so that I'll decorate the mindscape?" She looked heavenward, as if asking the universe if all of this was just some kind of horrible horrible joke. "Please tell me I'm wrong."
"Yes!" Bill said, blue fire spontaneously appearing in his hand. "So will you just shake the hand!?"
"How do I know this isn't some kind of trick? You might be tricking me into...into...selling my limited Christmas edition Catty Sparkle Silvertail kitty-cute toy to you or something!" Mabel accused, a shaking finger pointed in his direction.
"What?! You're crazy!" Bill cried out. "What makes you think that I would I even do that!?"
"I don't know!" she threw her hands up in frustration. "You're the one who came here all of a sudden with the crazies! What do you expect me to think?! That honestly you just want me to Mabel-ize the mindscape?"
"Yes, is that so hard to believe?!"
"Are you kidding me?! You tricked Dipper into giving his body, and he was hospitalized for a week after that! Sorry, if I'm not jumping to help you!"
"It was a joke!" he protested. "Pine Tree takes things too seriously sometimes! I only took out the body for a spin and back!"
"You deliberately make him fall down the stairs! That's sick!"
"What was I supposed to do? Fall out the window? It's not my fault his legs are so squishy!"
"Then why did you steal his body in the first place?" Mabel threw back at him, smirking victoriously when he remained silent. Then a sudden thought caused her eyes to widen. "Oh my Smile Dip - you, you-" she pointed her finger at him accusingly.
Bill, who read her mind, stared at her in horror and disbelief. "Shooting Star, what have you been reading!? I didn't do anything like that to Pine Tree!" he said shrilly, tackling her to the ground, willing to do anything to stop her from thinking about it. They were images he did not need. Ever. "Just make a deal with me!"
"Hell no! Get off me!" she said, struggling to get out his grip, which was surprisingly strong for someone who had stick-like hands.
As she continued to struggle he felt like a headache was forming, though he quickly dismissed that thought. Dream-demons don't get migraines. It was unheard of. But Shooting Star was beginning to grate on his nerves.
Bill studied her as he contemplated on an idea. He could bring her to the mindscape against her will. Then force her to help him. Which of course would be also against her will. And threaten her with her family and that walking bacon if she doesn't agree. Against her will.
Hm. He was warming up to the idea (technically he should have done this from the start) but…complications. Bringing someone to the mindscape would seriously drain him. A lot. And would leave him quite vulnerable and useless for awhile.
It was a sort of gamble; one that boiled down to a single question:
How much did he really want that detestable...colour gone?
It wasn't even a question.
Bill sniffed. "This better be worth it," he muttered to himself, and Mabel realized too late what he was doing before she was swallowed by the ground beneath her.
Mabel crossed her arms, stubbornly. "Take me back," she demanded, glaring daggers at the triangle menace that had kidnap her.
Bill crossed his own arms. "No."
"So help me Bill, if you don't take me back to the Mystery Shack right now, I swear I'll torture you until you do." Mabel threatened, her brown eyes flashing, reflecting her ire she held for him. On anyone else, it would have been slightly intimidating. But Mabel Pines was just a midget and the way she stopping her feet on the ground made her look like a sulky child. Not at all dangerous.
Heck, even Pine Tree would have posed more of threat than her.
"Yeah yeah yeah. That's real cute Shooting Star," he said, not taking her threat seriously. Even though he was ridiculously wiped out from bringing her here, he could already feel his energy returning. The Mindscape, for all its horrible decor, worked wonders for his triangular body. "Like, what're going to do? Talk me to death?" Bill mocked.
Mabel gave him a rather nasty look."Craig! Taylor! TO ME!" she said in a shrill voice, raising her arms on the air, likely imitating some fraud summoner on television.
As if answering her summons, the aforementioned teens shimmered into existence. If the Mindscape was a person, Bill would have wrung its neck until it died. Painfully.
"It worked!" Mabel cheered, as she raced towards them. "My dream boys!"
After their body solidified completely, the Tweedle-Dum and Tweedle-Dumber duo fist bumped each other.
"Rad!" the blonde, Craig said. He took a brief look at his surroundings. "We're back again!"
Taylor crouched down, and took Mabel's hand, kissing it. "And we have Mabel."
"Go Mabel!"
Said brunette blushed, flashing her braced teeth at them prettily. "Oh, you guys! You're making me blush." For some inane reason, this made Bill irritated.
Choosing to ignore him, someone real, for some pathetic imagination.
And Bill hated to be ignored as much as he hated white.
"Sorry to stop the chit chat, but I have to kill you both now," Bill said unapologetically, levelling his cane at the two radical and handsome teenagers. "Good try Shooting Star," he said, as the tip of the cane glowed an ominous red. "But in the Mindscape, I'm in control."
"No, not my dream boys!" Mabel cried out, darting in front of them as if to act as a shield.
Bill flicked his wrist, just as she closed her eyes, waiting for the inevitable blast.
Ba-dup.
Any moment now, she thought, squeezing her eyes shut.
Ba-dup.
Ba-dup.
Three full heartbeats later, Mabel opened her eyes to see both Taylor and Craig still fully intact and unharmed.
Did Bill decided to not shoot them?
Damn it damn it damn it damn it! His reserves were still very much depleted that he couldn't even summon enough energy to destroy two basic mind constructs.
Bill paled. He was seriously screwed. Fix this, fix this! his mind screamed at him, the dawning horror of being once again subjected to their synthesized music sending him into panic. He needed to act before Shooting Star noticed.
Too late. Bill watched as realisation dawned to her. If Bill physically had a throat and those body fluids (what were they called again? right, saliva), he would have swallowed at the hard glint of retribution in her eyes.
"Er, how about we talk about this over first, Shooting Star?" he said in what he assumed to be his most persuasive voice. "Forgive and forget, and whatever. No need to resort to violence, right? Right?!" he laughed nervously, backing away from them slowly.
Were those the thrice-damned cat hands she was forming? Oh bloody Pythagoras triangles, she was getting serious.
Stupid rules. Stupid idea.
Not for the first time, his mind was muddled with a wide range of expletives that would make any innocent soul in immediate vicinity die.
Damn Shooting Star for being smart for once in her pathetic life.
"I want out, Bill," Shooting Star demanded, pointing her pink, furry fists at him. The twin cat fists flattened their ears and hissed. "Right. Now!"
Behind her, idiot one and idiot two strummed their conjured instruments warningly. Bill resisted to clamp his stick hands over his nonexistent ears though failed to hide the red flash of irritation across his triangular body.
This was taking too long. Shooting Star should have just agreed to his deal and be done with it.
Irritating adolescent female.
Bill glowered at her. Mabel glared back.
Wait.
That's it.
Bill conjured his cane, leaning against it as he mulled over the sudden idea that had broke through. Female. Shooting Star was female! How could he be so blind and dumb?! The answer to her agreeing was tap dancing in a pair of tights right in front of him all along! Knowing how boy crazy Shooting Star is, it would be a good exchange for her expertise.
Though, Bill thought as he tried really hard to keep himself from being disgusted with his plan, was it really worth the humiliation and torture?
White.
White.
WHITE.
Why did he even bother to ask questions he already knew the answers too?
Bill mentally groaned. It's for the greater good, he chided himself, concentrating on the little power he had retained. For the greater good!
(Who was he kidding?)
(Damn you, Shooting Star.)
Scrunching his one eye tight, Bill concentrated hard. It has been a long time since he created a meatbag suit in the mindscape, much less one that was this young. Shapeshifting was not a hard task for him - it was actually one of his simpler powers - but finding a reference to be used as a model to shape himself into was sometimes difficult.
Luckily (or unluckily) for him, he thinks that the body of a blond actor he discarded years ago - people really should read the fine print whenever they made a deal with him - might just do the trick.
Rubbing his stick hands together, he got ready. "One handsome meatbag suit coming up, Star," Bill muttered wryly.
Here goes everything.
For some reason, the ground was closer than he remembered.
And those bright pink shoes should not be that huge.
There was a sudden rumbling thunder and Bill jumped.
"Pffft, Bill? Is that you? Pffft, hahaha!" Large human arms wrapped around him and he was lifted off the ground. Bill screamed, thrashing about in her hold.
What did I do? Bill panicked. Did I accidently made her a giant? Damn it, this was not suppose to happen.
Put me down, Shooting Star! Bill shouted at the brown-haired-and-sweater-wearing giantess, but all he heard coming out of his mouth was a screeching "Meow! Meow! Meow!"
Wait, hold the inter-dimensional soda.
He turned himself into a cat!
...nononononononono, this was not part of the plan!
"Aw, look how soft your fur is! And it so bright and yellow! Aw, there's tattooes on your back! Lemme see!" Shooting Star cooed, stroking his fur without his permission. If she was not holding him so tight, he would have bite her hand off for daring to touch in the first place. Bill thrashed again when her hands wandered, yowling. Shooting Star, don't put your meatbags hands there! Hey-no, don't touch me, hey! I'm feeling violated here!
After a few more minutes of caressing from her (harassment, Bill spat out but it came out nothing more than an irritated hiss) she finally put him down. Putting as much distance as he could between them, Bill took the limited freedom that he had to think up another plan.
But first things first.
His pink cat tongue peeking out from his mouth, he began smoothing back his unruffled fur, trying to get rid Shooting Star's uninvited petting of from him - which was unfortunately, everywhere.
There was no wonder cats hated her. Bill thought that the Cat Caricature incident would have thought her to be more wary of cats - damn it, he remembered laughing at her getting therapy for PTSD for it, for crying out loud! Where's that healthy amount fear gone to, huh?
A shadow descended over him. Bill looked up.
"Hey Taylor!"
"Hey Craig!"
"Let's have some fun fun time with the kitty! Yeah!"
"That's a radical idea, Taylor!"
"Right back at ya, bro!"
Hell no, get away from me you freaks! Bill crouched low, flattening his ears and baring his teeth into an angry scowl. He growled threateningly at them. Come close to me and I'll scratch your eyeballs out from the hot air balloon you dimwits call a skull!
Hearing footsteps behind him, he dashed quickly in between their legs just as Mabel's hands were about to close around him again. He was not getting cage in those iron bars she called arms.
"Craig, Taylor! That cat, though he is still Bill and evil and whatever, is so freakin' adorable that I need to have it and cuddle with it, RIGHT NOW! Now, go my dream boys!" she shouted at them, pointing in the direction that he had ran off to. "Go and bring me back that Cipher Cat!"
They saluted. "Yesss Ma'am!"
"Consider the mission already accomplished!"
"Alright, bro!"
As Bill (the Cat) ran for his life, closely followed by two radical teenagers and a female overloaded with the need for cuteness, he cursed himself for even thinking about redecorating the mindscape in the first place.
It was a stupid, stupid idea.
And he cursed Axolotl too since he didn't have to go through all of this trouble in the first place if Axolotl had just let him keep the paint on the walls. But no.
Something metal crashed next to him and Bill nearly screamed at seeing the sharp pointed hook of Shooting Star's grappling hook.
AXOLOTL, YOU KNOW-IT-ALL BASTARD! YOU KNEW THIS WAS GOING TO HAPPEN, DIDN'T YOU!?
"Darn it, lemme try that again! Grappling Hook, go!"
Another scraping of metal that came too close for comfort.
THAT'S IT!
"Boys, get the machine gun and fill it up with tuna! There's only one way to get the love of a cat, and that's through it's stomach!" There was a pause that was filled with shrieking laughter. "And as for Cipher, being shot at with real bullet will be good for him!"
AXOLOTL, I INVOKE YOUR NAME! SAVE ME FROM THESE THREE INSANES, SO THAT I MAY WREAK VENGEANCE ON THEM ON ANOTHER DAY-!
"MEOW! MEOW! MEOW!"
Thud.
"Aha! Gotcha!"
AXOLOTL!
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A/N: Lol, finally finished. And hats off to Axolotl, may Bill return as a (handsome) human one day to repay for his crimes.
-The Last Deathly Guardian