It was Dipper Gleeful's day off, and he was going to enjoy it if it killed him.
Well, maybe not if it killed him specifically. He would enjoy it if it killed Mabel, maybe.
Dipper woke up at 12 in the afternoon. He quickly got dressed, then walked down the hallway. He passed Mabel's room, and heard heavy metal. He rolled his eyes and kept it pushing.
"Hey, Stan," he said as he passed Mister Magic himself in the hallway.
Stan looked out from under his fedora. "Oh. Hey, kid. Whatcha gonna do on your day off?"
"None of your business," he replied coolly.
"Arrogant and paranoid? I knew I was teaching you well," Stan said proudly.
Dipper poured himself a bowl of Lucky Harms - The world's most dangerous cereal! the box read, and it had a picture of a leprechaun decapitating a unicorn - and realized they were out of milk.
"Will!" he yelled. In a shower of blue light, the small man was there.
Well, small wasn't exactly the word. Will was a decent six feet, but was scarecrow-skinny, with shirts and pants that made him seem even thinner. Dipper was six-two, and also skinny, but lean. He had no doubts that he could go toe-to-blue-toe with Will.
If, you know, Will was human.
"We're out of milk. Go get me some."
"Yes, Master Gleeful," he said softly, and disappeared. He popped back in by the time Dipper sat down with a gallon of milk. "Yell if you need me, sir."
Will disappeared to… huh. Dipper pondered where he went off to as he chewed his cereal. Limbo? he thought to himself. Hell? Heaven? Maybe he just goes to the El Burro down the road. After a few minutes, Dipper decided that he didn't care enough to keep thinking about it and poured another bowl.
Upstairs, the heavy metal stopped, and Mabel's door opened. She floated down the stairs and sat down across from him. "Good afternoon, Dipper," she said. Her eyes glowed blue as some bread floated out of the bag on the counter and into the toaster.
"Hey, Mabel," he replied. "Why do you insist on wearing your outfit on our one day off?"
Mabel shrugged. "I don't know. I like it. It's nice wearing the same thing day after day, like having a schedule. What're your plans for today?"
Dipper ticked his schedule off on his fingers. "Well, first I'm gonna finish my breakfast."
"Most important meal of the day," she interrupted.
"Then I'm gonna go work out for an hour and a half, then I'll work with Ford for an hour."
"Dipper, you do know that the point of a day off is to relax a bit, right?" Mabel gently teased.
Dipper rolled his eyes. "Yeah, which is why I will then watch TV for a few hours, get some food at Sun King Wok, then go home and go to bed."
"You're just gonna eat by yourself?" Mabel asked. "What a loser."
"Well, who should I eat with?" he countered. "Your girl squad? Will? Wendy Corduroy?"
"You don't have any friends to eat with?" Mabel's voice was spiteful and incredulous, but curious.
Dipper thought about it. "Nope." He took another bite of cereal.
"Not that I care, like, at all, but do you care that you don't have friends?"
He didn't have to think about it this time. "Nope."
"Why?" Mabel asked. She was genuinely wondering now.
"Mabel, you ever hear the saying, 'It's lonely at the top'? Well, that saying is total bee-ess."
"Yeah, but you're not at the top."
"You're right. I share the top with you, and you're not good company. I don't need friends when I've got power."
Mabel considered his words. The saddest part, she concluded, was that he believed he was right. "Okay, loser, whatever you say."
"What are you doing today?" he asked in polite disinterest.
The doorbell rang. "That's what I'm doing," Mabel said with a grin, and ran to the door. Dipper covered his ears instinctively, but he could still hear the girls screaming. Mabel ran past the kitchen doorway, and her girl gang followed.
Candy Chu was about five feet of pure rage. Dipper had learned the hard way that if you wanted a knife stuck in your esophagus, you insulted Candy's height. Or weight. Or anything. Grenda, on the other hand, was six-three and three hundred pounds of pure muscle. She was the only one who Dipper felt even a modicum of fear towards, but so would most people after watching her shove creeps' heads through solid concrete. It wasn't fear, he told himself, it was simple logic.
They both flipped him off as they passed, and he returned the gesture.
He walked to the gym a few blocks away, and quickly strapped his gloves on. Six years ago, when he came to live at Gravity Falls with his great-uncles, he quickly learned that he needed to fight if he didn't want the shit kicked out of him by Wendy Corduroy every day. So Dipper asked his uncles how, and naturally, Ford's method was "shoot the other person". While Dipper definitely respected that, and planned to use it someday, he needed advice that wouldn't put him in the Gravity Falls Penitentiary until college.
So Stan introduced him to boxing, and he grew to it like a fish to water. His trainers told him that with his long reach, the goal for him was to hit the other person to keep them away. Dipper worked on that, and six years later, the trainers stopped giving him lessons so that he could find his own style while they worked on the other guys who came in.
His twin wasn't going to be left out, though, and she wanted to fight too - not because she had to, but because she loved to fight. Mabel also got the "shoot the other guy" talk from Ford, but declined it not for moral reasons, but because then it just wouldn't be as much fun.
So Mabel studied the "ancient art" of Krav Maga, which Dipper had no idea how it worked, but thought that the name was ridiculous. "It sounds like something that elementary-school soccer moms store their gluten-free waffles in during their kids' games," he told Mabel one day. She didn't think it was very funny.
Dipper walked to the corner of the room, where a bright red sandbag hung from the ceiling. Every other bag was occupied, but all of the other gym rats knew to leave the corner one alone.
That was Dipper Gleeful's, and Dipper Gleeful's alone.
Dipper slipped off his shirt. Then, he clapped his gloves together and got to work.
Jab. Jab. Jab. Right Cross. Right Cross. Right Cross. Right Uppercut. Right Uppercut. Right Uppercut. Finish it off with a right stomach punch. Switch hands and repeat. He did it for thirty minutes, then went to get a drink of water from the fountain.
When Dipper returned, he saw two guys getting ready to start working out on his corner bag. Dipper raised an eyebrow and walked over. "Hey, guys," he said calmly and peacefully. "I was working out on this bag. Think you can find another one?"
The two were obviously newcomers. The one with gloves on was taller than the other, and looked at him with surprise. "Oh, sure, dude. My bad. Come on, Tyler, let's go find another one." He started to leave, and Dipper sighed with relief. It would look really bad on the Gleeful name to start a fight in public.
The other one, however, didn't move from holding the bag. "Nah, Jacob, I don't think we should." He stared at Dipper with an ugly smile on his face. Dipper was reminded of a troll from one of those stupid movies he watched with Mabel two weeks ago. "After all, we were here first."
Dipper cocked his head to the side, not letting his voice go anywhere other than calm. "Actually, Tyler, I was."
"Ty, dude, let's just go," Jacob said, putting his arms up like a peacemaker.
"Is that your bag?" Tyler asked Dipper, ignoring his friend. He jerked his head toward Dipper's bright blue bag with his change of clothes in it.
"Yes," Dipper said with steel in his voice.
Tyler grinned that nasty grin again, turned his head, and spat on the bag. Dipper winced inwardly. He didn't feel bad about the clothes, which could be replaced, or what he was going to have do to this caveman, but he did regret having to do it in public.
"Okay, so is that how it's gonna be?" he asked Tyler, who nodded, never dropping the stupid grin.
"Tyler, you idiot!" Jacob shouted at him. He turned to Dipper with a pleading look in his eyes. "Dude, I am so sorry. I'll get him out of here-"
"Don't worry, 'dude'," Dipper mimicked, but not cruelly. He was only cruel to those who deserved it. Like Tyler.
"Tyler, I challenge you to a spar." Dipper pulled himself up to look eye level with him.
The growing crowd gasped. Spars were serious business at the gym. If you lose, you didn't come back for a month, and you were ridiculed for as long as people remember it. No one can turn down a spar challenge.
Tyler's eyes seemed to shrink into his face a little, but the ugly grin didn't drop. "Let's go, little man."
Dipper allowed a grin of his own to form on his face. This, he thought to himself, is going to be fun.
Tyler and him walked over to the ring and stood on opposite sides. Neither put on the headgear. Dipper gave his opponent the once-over.
Tyler didn't take his shirt off. He's ashamed, Dipper thought. He doesn't like his body, so he covers it up. I think I can use that.
Tyler left his earrings in. I can definitely use that, Dipper thought, chuckling at his opponent's stupidity.
And finally, the muscles in his left arm were bigger than the ones in his right. So he was either left handed or he conducted his 'Internet research' solely with his off hand. Dipper went with the former.
They stood in opposite corners. Then a gym rat rang the bell, and the spar began.
Tyler came out swinging. Dipper ducked and weaved. He used his reach to give Tyler a gut punch. The big guy didn't even flinch. He roared and punched Dipper in the nose.
Dipper staggered over, just barely managing to stay upright. He felt something in his nose loosen, and a bit of blood came out of one nostril.
He looked at Tyler, who was grinning, and grinned back sinisterly. Tyler's troll-grin faded a bit. Stan had taught Dipper all about the Jack-O-Lantern Grin that every business man like himself had to know - one that said Please, try to fuck with me some more, I'm begging you.
This time, he charged at Tyler, whose grin dropped entirely. He swung at Dipper, who dodged back and gave him a few right hooks to the cheek. Tyler tried to give him one of his own, but Dipper ducked, used his momentum, and gave Tyler an uppercut that would make Rumble McSkirmish proud.
With a mighty crash, Tyler tumbled backward and laid there for a second, dazed. Then he got back up and roared.
"I think I made him angry!" Dipper shouted to the crowd, who cheered appreciatively.
"Kick his ass, Tyler!" Jacob cried out. "No offense, kid," he told Dipper. Dipper shrugged nonchalantly.
Tyler charged Dipper, who instinctively put his forearms up to block, leaving his stomach open. Weirdly, the big guy didn't take advantage of that, settling for giving a flurry of hooks and jabs. He backed Dipper into a corner, then brought his knee up into Dipper's stomach.
Dipper grunted and fell over. He could feel a bruise forming already. The crowd gasped, and Jacob yelled, "Dude, what the fuck is wrong with you?!"
"Get his ass out of here!" one of the gym rats yelled at Tyler. The others shouted agreement, not out of loyalty to Dipper (although maybe a little fear was involved), but personal integrity to gym rules.
Dipper forced himself up and waved them off. "We're keeping this fight on!" he shouted at the rats, who muttered among themselves cautiously.
Finally, Dipper thought, I can fight my way. A smile grew on his face. A smile different then his grin. His grin was a warning. His smile told his opponent that it was too late.
Tyler charged him. Dipper prepared himself for the left cross, moved to the left side, and punched Tyler right on the earlobe.
While normally painful, it shouldn't have done lasting damage, just a little stunning. But the earring cut into the side of Tyler's neck, and he howled in pain as blood poured out.
Normally, the crowd would have reacted much in the same way that they did to Tyler, but when Dipper did it, they cheered. In their opinion, Tyler broke the rules first, so he got what was coming to him.
Bright red blood stained Tyler's white sleeveless shirt. He yelled in disgust and tore it off, simply ripping it apart. Dipper realized why he kept his shirt on in the first place.
There was a small bump on his sternum. It was pink. It kind of looked like-
"Oh my god!" one of the rats yelled. "He's got three nipples!"
The crowd broke out in laughter. Jacob joined in. Dipper allowed himself to crack a smug smirk. One that promptly disappeared when Tyler yelled, "I am going to kill you!" and charged him.
Dipper looked at his eyes. Oh my god, he's actually going to kill me, Dipper thought.
Mabel taught him one thing about Krav Maga.
He ran toward Tyler, and as they met in the middle, Dipper ducked down and gave a sweep kick to his leg. Tyler toppled forward, almost levitating in midair. Dipper popped back up, raised both of his fists above his head, and slammed them down on the back of Tyler's head.
The big man went down face-first and didn't get back up.
The crowd went wild. A few jumped into the ring and raised Dipper's hands in victory. Jacob was clapping and grinning.
Dipper grinned himself, out of pure joy this time. Then realization dawned on him. His uncles were not going to be happy about this. "I gotta go," he mumbled, excusing himself. He grabbed his bag of clothes, mentally noting to wash them at home to get the spit off, and made a beeline for the door without bothering to put a shirt on. The crowd didn't notice him go. Well, most of the crowd.
As he slung the bag over his shoulders and started jogging home, a voice behind him said, "Hold up, dude!" Dipper turned, and saw Jacob at the doorway.
"Oh. Hello," he said uncomfortably. "Sorry for beating up your friend."
"Pfft," Jacob snorted. "That ain't my buddy. He's just some asshole that thinks we're workout partners. Thanks for kicking his ass before I did."
Dipper hid the surprise. "Yeah, well. Someone had to."
"What school do you go to?" Jacob asked.
"Gravity Falls High."
"No way! You're, what, a sophomore? I'm a senior."
"Junior, actually."
"What's your name?"
Dipper blinked. No one had actually asked that before. "Dipper. Dipper Gleeful."
"Nice to meet you, dude. I'm Jacob Crawley. You ever thought about playing basketball?"
This was probably the longest, most unexpected conversation that Dipper had ever had with anyone outside of Mabel and the uncles. "Uh, no."
"We need a few kids. If you wanna join, you should. You're tall enough, and you seem mean enough." Jacob shrugged. "Just a thought. "See you later."
"Yes, I'll see you in a month. That's when school starts, right?" Dipper asked.
"Yep." With a grin, Jacob walked back into the gym, yelling, "Stop jumping on him!"
Dipper found himself grinning.
"Suck on that, Mabel," he told himself. He started jogging back to home, and the grin quickly faded as he realized that next on his list was helping Ford's mad experiments.
Ah well. If his uncle accidentally killed him, at least he made a friend today.
Dipper heard the sirens before he got home. He sighed and ran a bit faster. He opened the front door to get a faceful of smoke. Dipper coughed and waved his way through.
Stan was already manning the fire extinguisher. He nodded casually to Dipper. "What was it this time?" Dipper asked. "Demons? Did he try to summon a volcano in the basement?"
"I think he burned his food in the microwave again," a voice behind him said, and Dipper nearly jumped out of his skin.
Instead, he stayed where he was and said coolly, "Hello, Mabel."
Mabel walked out in full view, dressed in her usual blue suit with tights. A hairband with a pendant adorning it crossed her hair. She said, "Hello, loser," and walked into the kitchen
Stan had the fire under control, and put the extinguisher back into its case on the wall. "I think the kid has a point, Dipper. Sixer's microwave is hooked up to a nuclear generator, remember? Might have gone kaboom."
"I'll go check it out," Dipper said. "First just let me put a shirt on." He walked upstairs to his spotless room. He grabbed a shirt, pulled it on, and started when he saw Will in the mirror. "Hello, Will."
"Master Gleeful, I saw that your nose is bleeding," he said worriedly, "so I brought a first aid kit!" He held it out.
Dipper took it. "Thanks, Will." He opened it and sighed. "Why is it filled with Hot Pockets?"
"Oh!" Will looked inside. "I believe those are four-cheese pizza flavored ones."
"Fantastic. But why are they in the first-aid kit?" Dipper was getting a little frustrated.
"Quoth Mabel and her trio of heathens, 'It will be very hilarious'," Will explained. "Except they didn't use the word 'very'."
Dipper sighed. "Well, that's not surprising. Go grab a new one from the store."
"Yes, Master Gleeful." Will picked up the first-aid kit, then hesitated. "What shall I do with all these Hot Pockets?"
Dipper smiled sadistically. "I believe that under Mabel's sheets on her bed would be a good place."
Will nodded and vanished.
"Is it that obvious?" Dipper asked himself, and looked at his nose in the mirror. He winced. Blood covered the space between his nose and his lip, and some of it streaked down his cheek until it looked like it ran into his mouth. His nose itself looked pink and swollen.
"Okay, it's that obvious. But not one of the other two noticed?" He thought about it, decided that once again, he wasn't surprised, and washed his face off. When he decided it was clean, he walked downstairs.
The door to the elevator was open. Dipper walked into it and pressed the button that sent him to lab. As it slowly descended, he wondered absently if he should try to get some elevator music installed.
As he stepped out, wondering whether soft jazz or the song about liking piña coladas would be a better fit, Dipper reached an arm up and caught the ball that flew towards him at fifty miles an hour.
"I'm here, Ford," he shouted, which he felt was rather self-explanatory. "And I've got your ball."
"Ah, good! Bring the specimen over here," Ford called from the other side of the lab.
"Specimen?" Dipper took a closer look at the ball. A ball which was furry. And mobile.
And very bitey.
The hamster sank its fangs into the side of Dipper's hands. He winced, thinking about getting some disinfectant, then hurried over to Ford. There was an empty hamster cage, and Dipper flung the little rodent into it. He locked the cage, and the hamster crawled up to the bars and growled at him. Tried to growl - it was more of an adorable, aggressive squeak at him.
"Why?" Dipper simply asked. He had learned a while ago to keep the questions simple, or Ford would ramble off on some unrelated tangent.
"That is my newest experiment!" Ford replied brightly, pushing his glasses back up on his nose and tapping the cage. The little devil ran up to the bars and tried to bite his finger through them. Dipper gaped on the inside. The bastard really did have fangs.
"What?"
"It's an other-dimensional being that disguises itself to appear to be a hamster, but its bite sucks a bit of blood. When it has your blood, it wants a bit more. It didn't bite you, did it?"
"...No," Dipper lied. "So it's like a hamster bloodhound?"
"More like a hamster vampire. Which is why I'm calling it-"
"Please don't call it the Hampire."
"-the Hampire! Name pending."
"I don't have the patience to argue with your stupid names. You need my help with something?"
"Yes, I do!" Ford sighed happily. "It's so nice to have a helper. Back in the other dimension, I did this all by myself. And now I have someone almost as enthusiastic as me!" He reached over and ruffled Dipper's hair, but he never took his eyes off the Hampire.
Dipper rolled his eyes. "Yeah, whatever. What do you need?"
Fifteen minutes later, he had the fire extinguisher pointed at the portal that Ford had been working on. Ford had on his hazmat suit and was hiding behind an overturned table.
"Okay, when it pokes its head out, spray it!" Ford called out.
"Shouldn't I be wearing the hazmat suit, Ford?!" Dipper yelled back.
"Yes, probably!" The mad scientist gleam was in his eyes again. "Think of it as an experiment!"
"What kind of experiment?"
"How much radiation can a human take? Turning on in 3…"
"What?!"
"2…1… It's on!"
The portal sparked, and then started glowing. A pink and purple spiral appeared in the middle, and Dipper felt the suction. He ground his feet into the ground and grit his teeth.
The air started whistling past him and into the portal. It suddenly stopped. So did the suction.
Dipper and Ford were quiet. "Why did it stop?" Dipper asked. "The portal's still on."
"Well, either I finally fixed it," Ford said, a combination of fear and excitement in his voice, "or there's something blocking the other side."
As if on cue, a roar came from the other side. "Why is always the second one?" Dipper asked the heavens, and a head poked out of the portal.
It looked like Bigfoot's bigger, older, redder cousin. It was big enough to fill up the portal, which was enormous in diameter, but the only thing that could fit was its neck. Its fur was a bright, candy-apple red.
It turned its head to look at Dipper, who stared at it in curiosity and horror. Dipper noted in the back of his head that Bigfoot had a unibrow.
Then it roared, and Dipper got a look at Bigfoot's teeth.
"Holy shit," Dipper said, and it roared.
As long as it stayed there, Dipper and Ford combined could take care of it. Ford had the laser gun that he stole from the US army a few weeks ago (long story). They could evaporate the sucker and-
Then the head caught on fire.
"HOLY SHIT!" Dipper yelled, and rolled out of the way as a beam of heat exploded from its mouth. The blast hit a map of the universe on the wall and totally destroyed Uranus.
Dipper heard himself screaming like a little girl as he blasted the head with foam from the extinguisher. It put out the fire, but the beast still roared at him and tried to reach him. Dipper looked at it, and an idea came to mind. He lunged forward, dodging the mouth, and slammed the extinguisher into the edge of the portal. With a crunch, it splintered into pieces and powered off, and with a sick slice, the beast's eyes rolled back into its head, which popped up like a demented Jack-In-The-Box.
Breathing heavily, Dipper stared at it. Ford broke the silence, yelling, "You imbecile! I wanted to study it alive!" He roughly smacked Dipper in the back of the head.
Dipper whirled on him, rubbing his head. "Where the hell were you?!" he demanded. "I could have died for your stupid science project, while you were hiding behind your desk!"
"Do not talk to me that way, boy," Ford threatened, but Dipper brushed it off and stood face-to-face with him. After six summers, they were eye level, finally.
"No, old man, you listen to me," Dipper snarled. "I have been helping you for years now. I risked my life trying to summon an abomination while you hid in a corner and screamed, 'Take the kid instead!'"
"And that turned out well," Ford protested. "The monster is now loyal to you and only you."
"I've cleaned up your messes, I've wiped the minds of everyone involved, I've lied to the entire damn town about what you do down here, and how do you thank me?" Dipper's eyes glowed dangerously. "You force me to do your stupid performances, you force me to get this-" He rubbed his right shoulder. "-and you say that you're the best thing that ever happened to me."
"I am," Ford said coldly. "I was more than willing to let you and your sister die on the street, but here you are, in the biggest mansion in town, with one of the biggest magic shows in the world, with your own supernatural butler at your beck and call."
"No, Ford, you're a plague to this town," Dipper growled, and began floating an inch or two off the ground. Ford eyed him. "Never forget what you brought into your home," he said, and his voice echoed across the room. "You brought me."
"Maybe so," Ford said calmly. "But I also brought your greatest weakness." He pulled out a blue vial from nowhere and shook it. Dipper saw it, and his eyes widened.
"Is that-"
Ford threw it in the air and caught it at the last second. "Do you really want to find out?" he said quietly.
Dipper immediately landed and put his hands up. "Okay, okay!" he shouted in panic. "Don't drop it!"
Ford smiled sinisterly and put it away.
Dipper's eyes lost the supernatural glow, but not the rage-filled one. "I will not forget this, Ford." His hands contracted into fists.
"Oh, you will," Ford said casually, and quick as a flash, he pulled out a gun and shot Dipper.
He collapsed to the ground, and Ford quickly stashed the weapon. Quickly, Dipper groaned and asked, "Did we get it?"
"Yes, we did, my loyal assistant!" Ford chirped brightly. "Actually, it was mostly you. Congratulations, you have successfully defeated a Bigflare!"
Dipper looked over and saw the severed head of the monster. "Ew. I guess I must have passed out."
"Yes, that is what tends to happen facing monsters," Ford chuckled. "But you gave it hell, and you won! Thanks to you, my research can continue."
Dipper stood up wobbily. He walked over to the head and kicked it lightly. "Huh. I kicked a flaming Bigfoot's ass. Go me. Need anything else, Ford?"
"No, thank you. Go say hello to Mabel for me, will you?"
"I'll try. See you, Ford." Dipper walked over to the elevator and took one last glance at the lab. He internally sneered when he saw his uncle waving with an enormous smile on his face. He couldn't help but dislike him. For the last few years, he had been using Dipper as a tool to cover up his own science experiments. Dipper doubted that Ford knew that he knew, and he intended to keep it that way. He never let his emotions boil over, and he wasn't about to start now.
He had no doubts that he could take Ford head-on in a fight, though. After all, Dipper was dangerous.
Mabel was lying on her bed, texting Candy and Grenda when she heard it. hol up i gotta check smth real fast, she texted, and then jumped off her bed and slowly stalked down the hallway to their shared bathroom.
As she got closer, the ungodly noise got louder. The louder it got, the worse it sounded. By the time she reached the door, it was unbearable, but she could make out the words now. Mabel smirked and kicked the door in.
"So I put my hands up, they're playin' my song…" her idiotic (and tone-deaf) twin sang loudly. "The butterflies fly away! Yeeeeeaaaaah! It's a party in the USA! Yeeeeeeaaaaah! It's a party in the-"
"Dipshit, shut up!" she yelled. A muffled yelp came from behind the curtain. It shifted and Dipper poked his head around it, one hand clutching a bottle of shampoo that he had clearly been using as a microphone.
"What do you want?" he said, attempting to sound as contemptuous as possible.
Mabel wasn't buying it. "I want you to stop singing terrible music!"
"HEY!" Stan yelled from downstairs. "I'll have you know that Party In The USA is a CLASSIC!"
"For once, he's right." Dipper's tone had gone back to totally smug. Mabel rolled her eyes, told him he was #1, and stalked back to her room.
Dipper groaned when she was out of earshot. "If I can't goof off in the shower," he grumbled, "where can I goof off?"
One benefit of having friends, he noted, is that you can be as dumb as you want with them. He often observed Mabel, Candy and Grenda causing mayhem, stealing candy on Halloween, and setting random trash cans on fire, He had always secretly envied that kind of friendship. His closest friend was Will.
Jacob. Dipper blinked. He had forgotten about Jacob. While he had no doubts that Jacob would be the wild friend, Dipper himself knew that he was too responsible to be crazy. He sighed. Maybe someday he'd loosen up.
But now, he brightened as he turned off the shower and grabbed the towel, was one of his favorite parts of the day. And with that, Dipper put on some clothes and marched downstairs.
He parked himself in front of the TV with a bag of popcorn that Will Cipher had made for him, found the remote under the couch cushions, and flipped through the channels until he found something he liked - namely, Duck-Tective. Dipper tried to ignore the crashing going on in the basement and hoped that Ford wouldn't blow up the house until the show was over.
Apparently, the avian investigator and his partner, Commodore Theodore Somadore, were investigating the theft of 15,000 chicken nuggets. Why someone had 15,000 chicken nuggets, Dipper had no idea, but for once he turned his brain off and watched as Somadore ate one of the remaining chicken nuggets while the duck stared at him in disgust.
"Hmm, the trail is fresh!" the Commodore declared as he pointed a finger up. "The dastardly culprit must be close by!"
"You monster, that was my uncle Harvey!" Duck-Tective quacked through subtitles.
"I agree, partner! My tracking skills are marvelous!"
Dipper yawned, and looked out the window to his right. A group of kids were heading to the woods behind the row of houses in his neighborhood. He watched with interest as they vaulted the fence to his neighbor's backyard.
There were four kids, two guys and two girls. The first boy was short, but his hair was stark white and made up for about six inches in an impressive pompadour. He scaled the fence slowly, but surely. His blue vest got caught on the top of the fence when he tried to climb down on the other side, and he dangled in the air, yelping for someone to get him down while the others broke down laughing.
The first girl was… not really fat, but heavy set. Her green T-shirt had an exclamation mark on it, and the back read, Good deals now at the Mystery Shack! She must work at that old tourist trap. The girl seemed about ten years older than the others. She yelled, "Oh my gosh, Gideon! Are you okay?" She climbed the fence slowly and unhooked his vest. He fell to the ground with a comical "Oomph!" A book fell out of one of his inside pockets.
"Thanks, Melody," the boy called Gideon groaned as he grabbed the book. It briefly flashed in the light, and Dipper noted that it had a handprint with a 3 inscribed on the cover.
The second boy said, "There must be an easier way to do this." He looked nervous, and Dipper realized that he recognized him. It was Robbie Valentino, a senior. He was always on the Academic Super Bowl teams for math and science. He pushed up his glasses. "Seriously, there must be a gate or something-"
"DO IT!" Gideon and Melody shouted happily. "It's easy!"
"Well…" he bit his lip. "Okay, fine." With that, he closed his eyes and began to climb. Five second later, he asked, "Am I at the top yet?"
"You haven't even left the ground," Gideon told him.
"It's like seven feet," the girl behind him said. "You got this, come on."
Dipper noticed the girl and his heart stopped for a second.
She was the prettiest girl he had ever seen. Her blonde hair came down to her waist in a ponytail, and she had long, athletic legs that she showed off in jean shorts. She wore a bright red, oversized sweater and tennis shoes.
She was also very athletic. "Pacifica," Melody warned, "what did I tell you about jumping over things taller than you?"
Pacifica wore a goofy grin. "That I look amazing while doing it?" she responded brightly. Then she backed up a few steps, took a running start, and vaulted the fence.
Dipper gaped as she grabbed the top bar and pulled herself into a handstand, never dropping the grin. She held herself there for a few seconds, then jumped over and landed on her feet next to Gideon and Melody.
"That was dangerous!" Melody chastised, but looked as if she was used to it by now.
"Show off," Gideon muttered, and Pacifica stuck her tongue out at him.
Dipper was amazed. He had seen professional gymnasts who couldn't do that.
Meanwhile, Robbie was having a fantastic time. "Oh my god why is the fence shaking is it a bird get it off!" he screeched as he held on for dear life.
"He's still not over that?" Pacifica asked, laughing. "I swear, we will leave your nerdy ass here!"
"You better not!" Robbie pulled himself over with a gasp and landed painfully. Gideon offered him a hand and he took it. "Thanks."
"You know," Gideon told him, "I don't get it. We ask if you want to hunt monsters in the woods, you say sure. We ask you to climb a fence, you wimp out."
"No," Robbie said, "you asked if I wanted to watch you guys hunt monsters. I don't feel much like hunting monsters after the shapeshifter made me watch as Paz killed me."
Pacifica's face darkened and she dropped her sunny smile for the first time. "Don't mention the shapeshifter," she said.
"Uh, right." Robbie seemed to be attempting to swallow his tongue. "My bad."
"Okay then!" Melody said brightly, changing the subject. "Let's go take care of some monsters!"
Gideon and Pacifica whooped and ran towards the woods, with the other two trailing behind.
Duck-Tective still played, but Dipper was lost in thought. That girl, Pacifica… she seemed different. Most of the people in Gravity Falls were strange, but habitual. It was almost as if the insanity of their surroundings had stolen their energy to do anything different. After living here for six years, Dipper knew that most of the town wore blue and gray, his own family included. They were the colors of the high school sports teams, the colors of almost every building on his block. Even his and his sister's stage costumes were blue and gray. It was monotonous.
And then she came, and she was full of color and energy and excitement. She jumped fences, she smiled with the force of the sun, and she seemed fun.
Dipper smiled at the thought of her. "At least something's changing here," he said out loud. Then his mind wandered.
Dipper pondered the book. His great-uncle Ford would love that book. He said that there was something hidden in the pages, something fantastic, but deadly. Ford had a book just like it, and Dipper tried to read it once to no avail. Most of it was in code, and he didn't have time to decipher that. Ford wrote it, though, and said that what was written in both books was the most dangerous thing in all of Gravity Falls.
Dipper snorted. He was the most dangerous thing in Gravity Falls.
Well, him and his sister.
As if on cue, something exploded in Mabel's upstairs bedroom. Cackling followed.
Dipper turned his attention back to the TV. He watched for a while, almost appalled at his own interest in it. This is a kid's show, he told himself. I can't believe this. I'm sixteen, I'm the most powerful person in town, and I'm watching a kids show. But he continued watching with interest, and soon, Duck-Tective and Commodore faced down the crook. Suddenly, the bird whipped out a revolver with his wing and shot the culprit point-blank in the face. Dipper sat upright in his seat. "This just got interesting."
"Well done, my loyal avian partner!" the Commodore chuckled. "We've really quacked this case-"
The duck shot him in the leg. The Commodore screamed in another language - Spanish?
"What the hell?" Dipper asked under his breath as the two yelled at each other back-and-forth in Spanish. The gun went off, and the Commodore rocked backward as blood rolled down his face. The TV paused on its own, and a hand fell on Dipper's shoulder. In a flash, Dipper was up and shoving his forearm on his foe's throat before he knew who it was. He pushed him to the kitchen and slammed him against a wall and then realized who.
"Master Gleeful!" Will Cipher wailed. "I did not mean to disturb! I am sorry! Please release me!"
Dipper slowly let him go. Will collapsed to the ground, wheezing. Dipper looked at him suspiciously. He seemed the same as he usually did - waistcoat, blue hair, legs that seemed too long and slender - but something felt off.
He shrugged it off. "Sorry about that, Will," he said nonchalantly. "You startled me. Don't make that mistake again."
Will's choked gasps turned nasty. Then he started laughing maniacally. "Oh, I won't."
"Will?" Dipper asked, unnerved.
He turned his head upward, and his eyes were yellow. "Not Will," Dipper answered himself, raising an eyebrow and reaching for the broom.
"Will? Will Cipher?" The thing in the servant's body stood up, and it started to change. His normally blue clothes and hair turned bright yellow. His waistcoat turned into a dapper yellow longcoat. His pants turned baggier and khaki, growing pockets all over until he wore a pair of cargo pants. His normally white undershirt changed into a black T-shirt with a white design - a triangle in the middle of a wheel with images. Dipper noticed a shooting star, a question mark, a broken heart, and… a llama? Dipper decided that he had bigger issues.
"Will"'s face contorted. His usual timid frown turned into a Cheshire grin, while his eye… Dipper backed away in revulsion. Pink, intestine-looking string appeared from his eyelid and sewed his right eye closed.
The thing that was not Will took off the usually small top hat that he wore (and that the twins had never been able to take off) and tapped it on the side. It turned into a maroon fez. He grunted irritatedly and tapped it a few more times. Dipper watched with caution as the hat turned into a baseball cap, a fedora, a blue and white cap with a blue pine tree on it, and finally a long, thin top hat with a yellow stripe running through it. "Will" situated it on his head proudly.
"Now, where were we, Pine Tree?" he asked. "Oh right, you called me Will, but as you can see-"
"You're not Will," Dipper finished, remaining calm. "Obviously."
"You guessed it, Pine Tree!" the thing said cheerfully. "My name's Bill! Bill Cipher, at your service. Shake on it?" Bill extended his hand.
"No, thank you," Dipper said cordially. Always be nice to strangers, his mother had always taught him, although he doubted that she was talking about strangers who possessed your butler. "So, Bill, can you please get out of my servant? I need someone to clean up my idiotic sister's room."
"Hah! I don't think I can do that, Pine Tree."
"Why do you keep calling me Pine Tree?"
Bill cocked his head. "Hmm. Guess this isn't the dimension I aimed for. You aren't my Pine Tree. Usually, Pine Tree would have started screaming in that scratchy, prepubescent voice of his. Your name is Dipper, right? Dipper Pines?"
"No," Dipper said, slightly insulted that he could be mistaken for those conmen down the road at the tourist trap. Gideon was related to that family… somehow. Great-uncles, maybe. "Dipper Gleeful."
"How old are you? Twelve? Five? Seventy two?"
"I'm old enough to not tell you."
Bill laughed uproariously at that. "You at least seem smarter than Pine Tree!"
Dipper decided it was time for a few questions of his own. "Who and what are you?"
"My name, as I said, is Bill Cipher. What am I?" He seemed to ponder the question. "I am like your Willy Cipher, but worse. Much worse." His sewn eye was swollen and pink by now, and it unnerved Dipper.
Bill seemed to notice, and pulled a black eyepatch out of nowhere and pulled it over his eye with an elastic snap.
"Where do you come from?" Dipper asked. "Hell? I didn't think that existed."
"No, not from downstairs. Not from upstairs in Heaven either. I come from…" Bill seemed to think about it. "Sideways of here. No offense, but I don't think you're my Pine Tree."
"And you're not my Will Cipher," Dipper agreed. "So how will you get back to Sideways?"
"Oh, I don't know. I think I might stay here for a while. This dimension seems conquerable."
"What do you mean?" Dipper asked, his mind readying himself for a conflict.
"Oh, you know our kind," Bill said amiably. "We're always after the same thing. World domination. Armageddon. Parties 24/7. Free pizza deliveries."
"While that sounds… fun…." Dipper said, thinking over his next few words, "I think that I speak for the human race when I decline your offer."
"Oh, it wasn't an offer," Bill said, his eyes hardening. "It was a promise. Now let me do it, and maybe I'll spare you. Heck, I might even throw in your sister's life as well."
Bill smiled as if he expected Dipper to comply.
Needless to say, Dipper didn't. "You aren't conquering anything," Dipper said, voice calm but eyes narrowing. "I am the most powerful thing on earth."
"No," Bill said, laughing, "you were."
Quick as a flash, he darted over to Dipper and backhanded him across the face. Dipper flew into the cabinet across the kitchen and collapsed to the ground.
"Look upon me, kid," Bill snarled, all cheerfulness gone. "You thought you were the top of the food chain? Not anymore."
Dipper groaned and got up. He felt a cracked rib. "What the hell are you?" he yelled in panic, too dazed to be calm.
"Dream demons like me and your old pal Will?" Bill cracked his neck. "We're gods. That's what we are."
"Dream demons?" Dipper mind went back to his journal. He grinned, showing sharpened canines. "So I'm dreaming?"
Bill's grin dropped a bit. "I shouldn't have said that."
If Dipper was dreaming, then he could do anything.
Anything.
"News for you, Bill Cipher." A knife slid out of Dipper's sleeve as soon as he thought of it. "You're not the apex anymore. See you later."
"Kid, wait!" Bill shrieked.
Dipper stabbed himself in the chest, and woke up with a start.
His hand instinctively went to his chest. No mark. His rib felt sore, but not broken.
Duck-Tective still played, but no one got shot in the face. He groaned in pain, and turned off the TV. "Will!" he called.
Will Cipher teleported to him instantly. Dipper was thankful that he was back to the waistcoat, blue color and skinny jeans. Both of his eyes were intact.
"Yes, Master Gleeful?" he asked timidly.
"I need you to ask Great-Uncle Ford about dream demons, and how to protect the house from them."
Will paled as much as he could, seeing as he didn't have a lot of color in the first place. "Did you have a nightmare, Master Gleeful?"
"Something like that." He gently pushed him. "Go fast, before night."
"Yes sir."
"Oh, and get me the first-aid kit. You have cleaned out the Hot Pockets, right?"
"Yes. What is the matter?"
"I think I might have broken my rib."
Will's eyes widened. He disappeared, then reappeared a moment later. He silently handed the kit to Dipper, then vanished again.
Dipper took his shirt off and started wrapping his chest. It wasn't broken, but he wasn't going to take any chances."
The doorbell rang as he was sliding his sweatshirt back on. "Who is it?!" Mabel yelled from upstairs.
"I don't know! I'll get it!" Dipper hollered back.
"It better not be Girl Scouts selling their disgusting cookies!"
"We don't have those in Gravity Falls."
"Or Jehovah's Witnesses!"
"We don't have those either."
DING DONG! DINGDONGDINGDONGDINGDONGDING-
"Okay, I'm coming!" He opened the door. "No, I'm not interested in joining - what?"
At the door was the pretty blonde girl with a purple tank top on, having shed her sweater. She was covered in sweat, blood, and… sparkles?
"We need your help," she panted, and Dipper was too surprised to answer.
"My cousin... I think he's dying."
Hey guys, so this is my first ever piece of writing that I've published. Feel free to tell me what I did wrong! Not too free, though. I'm sensitive.