Hellooooo my wonderful cubes!
So, this is a story I wote on paper a long time ago but I never got the chance to share it with you guys. I really think you'll like it because Bill and Dipper is the main characters, and I guess people sorta see them as a ship.
There is going to be demons, witchcraft, and mild gore. So if you're uncomfortable with those three things you do not have to read this. If you're interested, please stick around till the end!
Anyway, I hope you guys will enjoy this crazy idea of mine! ;D
Its not terribly unusual for a witch to not have a familiar, but that's typically reserved for people as old as Grunkle Stan, whose familiars have died, either due to natural causes, or in some duel or battle. They're only animals, after all, and as useful and comforting as they are, they're not immortal. By time most people reach middle age, their first familiars have already passed, and they've moved on to another one.
They say you never forget the first, that the combination of your magic influences you for the rest of your life.
Dipper's eighteen, and he still doesn't have a familiar. He's never found anything that felt right.
A practitioner without one at Dipper's age is, at best, weird, or at most- Well, Dipper's heard worse things about him. At least in Gravity Falls, it's more out of pity for his lack of companion, not that he's shunned for being a freak with magic.
Still, he watches Mabel and Waddles doing all kinds of things with each other - the little outfits she makes him, the odd pink tone that's been added to all of the spells she casts, the hugs...
It bothers him. A lot.
Mabel's had a familiar for years now, and Dipper can't find anything that matches his own magic, or even wants to hang around him for too long. He likes animals, sure, but nothing's ever been very interested in hanging out with him when Mabel's around. She attracts affection like a magnet, and it's understandable, she's a lovable person.
But it still leaves Dipper feeling left behind. Especially when it means he never gets to form a bond.
It finally gets to him when he makes friends with a squirrel - not the kind of familiar he'd choose, but it's the first thing that's seems to genuinely like him, and he haven't even been feeding it—
But when Mabel shows up at the shack, fresh back from her trip with Pacifica, the stupid furry thing immediately ditches him, begging for scratches behind the ear from his sister.
Dipper gives up.
Clearly, he hasn't got the talent. He's never been quite as magically strong as Mabel, that was clear enough since puberty set in, but he didn't think he'd be this behind on things. He kind of wants to hate her, but it's not her fault Dipper is apparently least talented magician in the family. Or that he's apparently incompatible with everything that's existed, ever
He groans into his pillow, collapsed face-first on the bed. He pulls another over the back of his head, and screams into the down of frustration.
Dipper curses for a long time before sighing, dropping a pillow off the bed and turning onto his side.
There... are things he could try. It makes him embarrassed and feel a little sick, but at least he'd stop getting all those stupid looks from other practitioners.
An illusionary familiar might be better than none. As long as he remembers to banish it, not to get attached to what's essentially a hologram of a creature. At least that way he'd have something.
Mabel would stop looking at him with those awkward smiles. Grunkle Stan wouldn't have to carefully look away from him whenever familiars were brought up. Stan's reaction is almost worse than Mabel's, because Dipper knows what his Grunkle is thinking, without the statement ever being said.
Dipper contemplates it, eyes feeling hot, rubbing at his face.
Fuck it.
It's a lie, but it's a lie he can keep up for a long time, and the spell is one he can actually pull off without assistance.
He sits up in his bed, clearing his throat and running his hands all over his face. All he needs is a knife and some time, and since he's alone in the Shack right now, well. Might as well go for it.
He settles down on the floor, then rethinks his strategy, and spreads out a clean white sheet before he begins. This is going to need some blood, and if he doesn't want Mabel, and Stan, and everyone else in this godforsaken town to find out, he's gotta clean up afterwords. It'll be easier to do laundry than scrub blood out of wood.
The bite of the knife into his palm catches and pulls his skin, but he gets a reasonably steady drip onto the sheet as he sits in the middle of the circle. His blood tickles only slowly, but he doesn't need a lot. This is humiliating as hell, but as he moves his hand around himself, dripping blood over the sketched circle on the sheet, Dipper feels better for at least doing something about this. Fake or not, at the end of the day, he'll still have something to stand by his side. It's going to take up a good quarter of his magic to sustain a fake familiar, but it's not like he had much to work with anyway.
He almost clenches his hand in frustration, but stops, letting the blood keep falling on the sheet.
Nobody's going to notice. He reminds himself of that as he finishes the blood circle, and quietly murmurs the chant to himself. It'll take some of his own magic, and create a little illusion that can follow him around, bound to him and his flesh so it won't get lost, or wonder off.
Everything goes smoothly. The gentle cold that comes from the magic siphoned off blood trembles through him. Dipper can feel the slow build of energy in the circle, and there's a resonance in it that tells him it's matching his personal magic. Dipper finishes his chanting, and takes a slow breath,waiting for his imaginary familiar to materialize.
And that's when everything goes to hell.
The sheet underneath him bursts into blue flames. All of it. He would scramble away, but there nowhere to go, he covered in the fire. It surrounds him entirely, flickering over his legs and hands.
Dipper looks all around himself - nothing hurts, nothing's being burned, apparently - he looks up.
With a sudden, painful impact, another person falls from the air and lands on him. Dipper's head bounces off the hard wooden floor, and he lies where he is, dazed.
The sheet beneath him has burned entirely away, and through his hazy perception, Dipper feels the chest against his breathe in, then out - and then the person sits up, stretching and groaning loudly.
"What the hell do you think you're doing?" Asks the man. He stands up, brushing himself off. Dipper blinks at him slowly, watching as the strange man straightens the ridiculous top hat he's wearing. "This is by far the worst fucking summoning I've ever been part of," the man glances over himself, then lifts a hand and licks a little speck of blood off his thumb. "Nice magic, though. Tastes pretty familiar."
Dipper coughs quietly. His whole body ached, from the impact of the stranger landing on him, and from the amount of magic he's just spent. It's far, far worse than he'd expected. He didn't even know he had this much to spare.
He blinks and squints, still disoriented. "Sorry," he rubs at his temples, though his arms feel weak. "Just was... trying to get a..." He can't finish his sentence, and just groans quietly.
The man standing over him gives a soft, amused huff of breath. "Well then, since you're not all that interesting," he smirks at himself. "Except the worst dreams of your life, for, oh," the man hums contemplatively for a moment. "Forever. Thanks for wasting my time, fleshbag."
The stranger stretches his arms, eyes closed - Dipper notices that the other is covered by some eyepatch, how odd - then he pauses. And stretches again.
The stranger makes a few more perfunctory motions, the walks a circle around Dipper, muttering to himself. Dipper shakes his head carefully, sitting up. He feels a little better, though this is more than just a little confusing. There's no reason the spell should have failed.
He touches the ashes beneath him. The circle should have only summoned something close to his own magic, and it's not like there's anything else in the world that's comparable to his own-
The man pacing around him stops right in front of him. His single eye glares.
"What kind of spell were you trying here, kid?"
"Uh," Dipper's mouth feels dry. He swallows and licks at his lips. "I was, uh," it's embarrassing as hell to admit it, but the way this stranger is looking at him it too intimidating for him to lie. "I was trying to get a fake familiar."
The man's eye widens, and his face turns blank. He stares at Dipper, then looks away, making a few, unrecognizable gestures. Nothing happens. He looks at Dipper again.
Dipper shifts uncomfortably at his gaze. What the hell is going on?
"My name is Bill, by the way," the man - Bill says, after a few long moments of staring at Dipper. "And boy, kid, you didn't get a fake familiar," he smiles, wide, teeth sharp and white, and Dipper realizes with a start that this isn't a human. "You got a real one. And you're going to regret it."
Soooooo...how did you like it?
In this fanfic, Bill is going to be a human than a stupid ass triangle. I hope I really expressed Bill's personality. The only reason why I made him more laid back is because he's meeting a human that he's uncertain of. He doesn't know if he can trust Dipper or not.
Anyway, I'm working on chapter two right now as I speak...or type..I don't know. I promise I will get it updated in no time. ;D