Since Disney has blended historical figures, fairy tales, and legends into the Princess Line, somewhere down the line they definitely have “Princess Mizar,” whose parents made a contract with Alcor at her birth for him to always protect her. Following the tradition of Disney parents, they were then assassinated, so until Mizar’s old enough to take the throne she lives under Alcor’s care at his manor, accompanied by her best friend and Alcor’s daughter, Gliese, and Alcor’s servant, the Woodsman.

image

Alcor using his powers to give people he dislikes/people who pulled shit on him but not big enough to kill them nightmares about Bear-O. Bear-O chasing them in a forest. Bear-O creeping into their beds. A scene of fnaf but with Bear-O as the murderous animatronic. When Mabel finds out she tries to take the bear out to show Dipper ‘how not terrifying he is’. The triplets cry for an hour straight, and Dipper spends a week floating over their beds and waving off nightmares.

“Mabel, Hank was terrified that Bear-O was going to eat his toes?”

“Like omnomnom?”

“No, like blood and flesh rending.”

based on both the post about alcor making a deal with a teacher to be a substitute and the one about bill being reincarnated as a demonology professor. The only thing that pops into my mind is the most epic substitute demonology/demon battle in history. Professor Cipher vs. Professor Pines. And Madeline of course is stuck in the back of the classroom watching the nerdiest showdown ever wishing her dad wasn’t so embarrassing.

you know Bill would have on a super bitchin sweater vest and tie combo so of course Dipper has to one up him in the funny tie department and that’s only the beginning.

(meanwhile Madeline would like the ground to swallow her whole now thank you very much)

There’s an author out there who is neither a reincarnation of anyone Alcor knew in life, nor associated with them even in passing. The author has never summoned him, never even considered summoning a demon for one second, period.

Heck, they’re not even particularly talented or successful, their books filling bargain bins in supermarkets and languishing on coffee shop shelves, gathering dust in what few libraries can be bothered to carry them.

And yet, Alcor devours everything this author has written, even the creative writing assignments they did in high school and the stories they scribbled when they were four and their parents gave them paper and pencils to get them out of their hair.

Why?

Because through some quirk of fate, Alcor’s omniscience is completely ineffective against their works. For the first time in oh, so long, when he picks up a book, he doesn’t know what’s written inside, doesn’t know how the series will turn out, doesn’t see all the myriad ways it could have turned out if the author hadn’t changed their minds and revised it. Each book is a fresh, unspoiled experience for him.

But unsuccessful authors have an unfortunate tendency to give up and find something else to do with their lives, don’t they?

A Relaxing Day

criss-croissant:

I’ve written a fic similar to this before, but I saw a picture courtesy of Mod Z of the Transcendence AU blog, and decided to write it out.

Warning: Moderate blood and violence ahead
__________________________________________________________________________________

It was turning out to be a relaxing day. Mabel was out with Pacifica doing girly things god-knows-where, Stan was with some of his drinking buddies at the bar, and Dipper was off at a summons. Finally, Henry could have the whole house to himself.

Settling down with a thick book, the redhead was stretched out on the couch with his book and a blanket. Yes, today was a relaxing day.
Until Henry was pulled from his reading when he noticed the air hung deathly cold, chilling him even in the fluffy blanket he wrapped himself in. Tossing his book to the side, Henry quietly stood up to check if the other rooms at the sudden drop in temperature, when a loud clatter sounded in the dining room, followed by muffled cursing.

Stealthily, Henry crept over towards to doorway, and leaned over to peek at the room. It seemed empty, save for the drawer of silverware strewn about the floor. Cautiously, he stepped into the room and examined it.

No, there was no one here. A fork fell from the ceiling, somehow, and ended up clattering on the tile. Henry looked up to see Dipper floating right up against the roof, small handfulls of various tupperware, a glass or two, and some silverware in his fists. “Dipper? What are you doing up there?”

“ I was…looking for…God!” He grumbled, palms pressed against his temples. “You were looking for God? Sorry Dip, but in your current, erm, state of species, I don’t think you’ll find Him.” Henry jokingly replied, Dipper’s grumblings clearing over his head.

“Why are you visible? ” Henry asked, watching his brother-in-law twist and turn in the shadows of the ceiling. “ H…H̶e̸nry…D͏.ͩ̉̓̾̊.ͭ͊ͯ̿.͆̋D̿͏̘͉̞ơ̵̪̺̞̝̯̖̩̫͊ͧ̿ͪ ̵͎̝͕̄͐ͮ̂ͧͪy͖͙͚̣̱̳̤̗̎̆͞o̷̠͙͎̞̿̓͗ͬ͝ų̪͓̎̀̆͠ ̠̟̆̐̕ẉ̣̬͇̥͌͛̏͡a̖̱ͫͦ̀͂ͩ̇ͯ͆ñ̪̏ͥͨ͐̆͊͌t̺̦̱͖͇͖̜̭̮ͯ͒ͮ ̵̼̓ͪ͘t̛̯̮̜̯̰ͯͨ̐̈̍͜o̙̥̙̝̩̠̔͗͒̌̒̍͂̐̆͠ ̺̠̪̙̬ͮ̃̒ͩ́͟ͅp̧͎͙̟ͩͨ̒̂l̆͂̐҉̷҉̰̣̫͕̱̥̤̤ͅá̻͛̋̉͋̅̏̾y̯̜̖͔̟͖̽ͬ͆͊͠ ͌̏̕͘҉̖ȃ̵̸̖̙̦̬̦̣̦̇̽ͪ͡ ̢͕̖̥̪͙̰̥̌̊̆͌͐́̿́͢ͅg͓̒̀̏͑͐͛̕a̫̝̮̣̖͓̞̾ͨ́͐̊͂͘m̥̻̯̺̐̆ͪͅͅȇ̝̤ͫ̾͋́͢͜?̡̭̲̜ͭ̓͐ͩ̉͟͠” Dipper floated down, shoes clicking on the tile. I͔̞̠̻͎̗̟͍ͯ̽ͩͬ͌̋̔͞’͔͚̼̙̬͊͒͗ͤ̐́m͕̫̱̥͔͈̰ͮ̾ ̭̮̺̙͔̦̲ͪͤs̜͉̤̳̬͖̭͆̍̇̎̚ͅŭ̷̼̮̥̓̓ͪ̀͡r̵̬͙̟̐̋͜͞ę̴̺̜̪̬͒͒̾͒͐͗͆͐ ̶̧̜͍̬͎̓̉ͨͬ͌̚ͅy̶̨̨̜̭͈̻̦̽ͥ̒̋ͪ̉̅o̻͖ͤ͛ͫ̇̚̚͡uͨ͑͆̊҉̸͓͖̕’̸͚͙̭͋̂͒̄̄ͪ̈ͅl͖͋͑̍̈́̒̉l̙͕̩̹ͮͩ̈͗̇ ͍̭͎̮̻̹̝̯̃̀̿̅l̴̻̖̹͈̖̪̮̩̺̾̎̄̑͑͐́̒iͮ̍͏̶̺͖k̢̬̠̩̰̖̆̄̇͊̒̀ͮ̽̆e̮̬̹̥̠̭͌ͤͤ̂͘͠͝ ̤̍̈́̃̄ͨ̑ͫ̀̚͘i̜͔ͧͫͫ̚͜͟͝ț̴̡͓̔̐.̡̥͎͇̪̎ͦ͋̇ͦ͐͐ͤ.̤̯̺̩̗̺̓̍̾ͮ̎̈́ͧ.̧̱̅̔̍ͮ͟

Henry’s blood froze. His breath caught in his throat, and he stumbled backwards, crawling away from the rapidly changing demon. Dipper’s eyes burst into an even brighter flame, the pupils shrinking. His skin started to become a brick-like pattern, void-filled squares popping along his body.

At this point, Henry scanned the room for something he could use against Dipper, but a white-hot flash of pain on his shoulder pulled him back. Blood dripped from Dipper’s clawed hands, a crazed grin on his face. Henry was pinned to the wall, a hand tearing the skin along his cheeks and chin.

Tears whelled in the redhead’s eyes, threatening to overflow. “Dipper! What the hell is wrong with you?!” He screamed, but Dipper’s hand silenced him. “Wͯͤ̿̈́͊ͮ҉҉̦̬͈h̺͎̱͛̽ͦ̊͊̆ͥ̀͘â̛̱͕̳͈̯͚͌͗̽̃͋͌ͧ̕͟ͅt̶͉͕̘̤̯̜̾ͧ̆̒ͧ̄̆ͅ ̹͖͎̫̜͍͛́ͭ̒̒d̨͎̝͖͎ͬ̓o͖͌ͥ͑̆̐͊͋̾ͧ̀ ̶̧͇͓̘̯͉̪͕̦̀̍̄̔͑͑̐͡y̵̘̠̝̪͊͋̕ͅo̧̱̪̬̝̼̦̦ͨͧ͗̀́ͬ̅̌͌͟͡u̸̢̘̣̣̩͒̋́ͪͬͫ̈́̆ͬ ̸͈̙̮̗̥̹ͬ̈m̞͙̞̓ͬͧ̿̏ͮ̑̚͠e̵͍͓̤̮̽̾͆͑ͯ̈ͧa̧̩̬̱̻̘͎̋͌͊͐n̾ͤ͆̓ͯ͌̀҉̥?͇̼̘̺̭ͦ̐ͯ͗́͠ͅ ͐͌͏̴̹̻̖̬̜̲̣́Ĩ̶̮̻͇̋ ̸̢̞̩̍̏̽́̿̄̀̚͟f̶̝̼̘̼͓̰̙̤̑ͭ́̀e̊̓̈́̎̆ͦ̆͏̶͉̯ė͙̱̙͈͛͠l̩̜͖̀̑ͭ͊̕͡ ̢̧͓̯̘̯͌̈̈́f̑͆͠҉̜̣̙a͚̟̠͚̺̍̓ͥn͇̺̼̮̪̞̉ͤ͘ͅṫ̤͖̫̹̗͓̞̿̊̏͋̑̽́͟a̳̫̦̟̲̩̪͈̖͗͊̊ͧ͗̉̊́̚s̡̹̝̙͓̼̳̞̳̗ͩͣ͂ͨ͛̄ͦ̑̀t͔̟̃̇̏̔̚ï̶̪̘̬̬͗̀̉̇̐͘c̷̷̖̥̮̘̍͛̓.̴̻̯̥̯̔̅͒͢” The demon swung his head around, angling his teeth into Henry’s neck. The searing pain was almost too much to handle, but he wouldn’t give up. Henry’s hands furiously searched the ground for a weapon, a fork or something, anything. The cold metal blade of a knife pricked his fingers. Finally.

With a strong swing, Henry forced the knife under Dipper’s throat, pushing, digging and dragging the blade along his neck, until a warm gold stained his hands. At this, Dipper released his hold on Henry, the shock in his eyes fading into a dull giddyness. W̩͕̪̪̘̰ͤ̈́͋́ͅh̴͉̣̭̓̓̔̃ͤͯ̌͊̍͘͘ä́ͤ҉̤̙̼t̛̘̗͕̯̞̹ͬ̀̇ͩͬ̈̊,̼̞̲̺̄̀̇̋ͥͭ̂̀͡ ̳̻͔̖͖̫ͣ̐̔̽̉a̦͔͔̤̤̱̱̼ͧ͐̒̅̄̿̚ͅr͉̲̥̠̻͉͔̂̄ͧ̽́͒̚͜ͅe̠̦͕̍ͥ̂ ͈̼̳͎̱̠̄͊͂ͪ͂͗̒̃̿͡y̵̷̤͎̣̿ͫ̾̚͢o̡̗̱͓͇̯̼̯̘̻͐͂u̷̵͎̟̙̹̖͆̎̽͊̌ͯͦ͝ͅ ̨̼͇̣̖̠̫͈͈̳̔̊ͪ͡t̶̬̞̱͎̓ͯ̌̇̇̚̚r̠̟̞͈̥̟̹͍̊ͬ͋̿͑ͤ̎y̶̧̫̞̝̗̜̑͂͡i̛̻͔̾ͦ̍̿̀̎ͯ̀͘n̡͉̩̲͔͚͚̾̅ͬ̑̌͆ͥ̚͟g͕͓̠ͨ͂̉̂ͮͩ̒̀ ̨ͩ̓͛̿҉͉͕̙͎̰͈̦t̵̸̬̰͎̯̭̏ͥ͑͢o̯̪̖͔̘͕̖͂̄͌̍̃́͝ ̱̗̞̤̼̻̰̐ͮ͠s̯̯̳̾́̽̑̇̽͆ͅt͇͉̻̤̺̝̜͕̹ͫ͒̔ͬ̓ͤ͌͒̕͟ȏ̦̻̦̮͎̝̗̻̳̌͊ͧp̧̝̲͓ͧ́̔͛ ̢̓͌̀̓̌ͥ҉͖̜m̍̓̃͛̑̌͋͏̱̭͎̩̖̼̖̖è͎͔̩͈̙̩̻̘͇ͯͨ̓ͥ?̍͛ͮ̓̏̚҉̺̻̜̤̝͕̥̺͔́͠ ̴̛̠̱͕̬̾̏ͪ͒̏̎͊̀H̨̯͕̟̼̫̖͚͓̊̄ͤ͗͐̇ͬ̇o̻̖̤͍̻̭̘̔̅̀w͌̓҉͏̴̭̫̝ ̹͕̃̒̑̀́͞c̷̼̳͈̼̺̘̺͊̓̂ͭ͊ͭ͒ͯ̚̕͝ų̵͉͈͕̅̄̃ͣͬͤͪ͒t̶̊̽ͩ͆ͭ̉ͦ͂ͪ͟͏̺̼̖͙e̺͇̰̮ͬͭ̆̈́̈ͫͯͩ́̕.̪̬̰̫̳̜̃̄

Henry pushed against Dipper with all the remaining strength he had, the knife slashing against demon skin, making gold pour over both Henry and Dipper. “Ǎ̧̨̘̬̮̲̙̲̣̹̲̠̣̟͔͉̤͙̤̎̃͒͌̂͗͊ͧ͋̚ͅh̢͗̇͗̌͆ͧ҉̵͈̜̘͜ḁ̶̶̡͓̟̼͕̩̺͖̣̜̬̮̣̦̝̦̰̰ͥͬ̌ͪ̒̈́̇͛̉ͥ͆͛͞h̸̙̬͙̫̳̘͈̩̻̹͔̞̘͌͛̈͌̊̈ͬ͋̈͊̚̚͡ͅa̤͖͇̩̔ͭ͒̓̂̔ͩ́͡h̾ͦͦ̈́̆̐ͣ̂ͧ̇̔̆̐ͥ̐̂̚҉̷̛͔̼̖̪̜̹͖̹̤̘̪̰̖̰̀͟ͅͅa̴̸̹͍͎͍̲̾ͦͦͧ̉̂͊̿̊ͨͤ͆͊̀́͘͞h̵̴̥̮̖͓̣͈̄ͣͧͫ̃͒ͪ̓͒̉̅̚͘͢͜ā̶̵̢̖̬͖͇̟̜̦̬̣̞̠͚̲͕̍̇͗̾̑ͬ͐ͯ̑͑̂ͫ̑̏̏̇ͅh̲͓̻̜͓̩͚̠̱̥͚̠̊̒̈̆ͯ̐͒͛̇̔͘͝aͥ͑̈́ͬͧ̽̈̎̿҉̤̖̱͖͟͡A̸̡̻͔͈̖̗̬̲̬̻̘͖͉̯̰̼̜̫̦ͨ̑̍̉ͫ̇̉̑̾̕͟͝H̢̩̤̲͕̳͇̮̤ͯͦ͑̿̉ͫ͂͒ͪ͑̏ͣ͊ͭͭ̀͢͜ͅA͒ͣ̈̋ͦͩ͑̓͆ͫ͑̊҉̷̧͉͕̩̙̜̲̣̘͉̝͓̹͈̰Ḧ̭̘̼̺̙̺̖ͫ̓ͥ̅̈ͦͪ̏͊̆̉ͣͨ͆ͫ͟͠A̷̡̯̜͙̠̠̱̰̪̩̟̺̳̞̤͂̏ͫ̀̅̄͊ͦͦ̀ͤ̄͒̓́ͯ͑̃͘͢͝ͅȞ̩͚̘͔̗̬̹͓̺̤̬̐̎̽̈́̈̽ͦ̀̀Ä͓̰͎͙̲͌̉̅̿͆͋̏ͬ̂ͫ̐̿̃͊͛̚̕͠H̵̰̺͕͕̜̯̥̣̮̦̞̩̠͖̠͈̯͗͊̌̉̿̊̅̾ͬ̆́͐͑͛̎̐̐̚̚͟͠ͅA̧̜̳̫̖͎̫̥ͤ̓͐̏̃̈͗̓̅͌̂ͯ̆̑̾̂ͭH̵͔̼̭͎̥͓̣̽͋͆͛̾ͤ̋̋̅ͦ̑̊ͧ͊ͮ̀́͝A̷͕͙̯̹̭̥̗̬͙̣ͥ̊ͦͦ̿̂ͯͨ̉͗͠!̷̵̸̢̼̰͍͇̱̖̘͋͊̾͋̂͂ͣͯ͒ͫͬ̏͜ͅ” Dipper was cackling, the insane look in his eyes alone could have made a grown man faint.

The silverware all spun, rattling until they were dragged into the air, including Henry’s knife. They began to warp and bend, until Dipper’s cackling ceised, ending with them all snapping in half. Henry had taken this time to search the house for other weapons, but only came up with a half-filled bottle of holy water, a couple more knives, and some salt.
He soaked the knives in the holy water and salt, but they were shabby, and wouldn’t do much extra damage. He could only get one knife done when Dipper blipped behind him and slashed his back, licking his blood-stained fingers.

Henry stood shakily, then charged at him, only to smack into the wall behind him. “B̴̡̪̳̙̟̗̜͉̐̄ͪ͌̈́̌̓ͭͨ̂̚̚̕͟͡o̴̳̱̳̫̫̪͌̇ͫͬ͌̈́̀̅̇̀͟ơ̴̗̲͙̟͎̪̽ͣ̆̂ͦ̋͌͛ͨ͗͒̃̓͒ͬ́̀͝” A sharp turn, and Dipper’s throat was again cut by a knife, only this time, the wound began to fizz and bubble, making the demon gurgle at each attempt to speak. “Y̸̷̨̺̘̰̼̣̻̝̠͔͙̣̆͋̒̓͂̓̓ͪ̐͛̈̍̇̏̑͝͡ͅo̵̤̬̰͕͚̪̊̃͐̓ͭ̐ͦ̇͛̿ͪ̄ͩ͑̑̽̇́̀̚̕uͥ͆͊ͫ̅͂͒ͩ́ͨ͂̀̀̀̀̿͛̋̚͏̷̗̰̥̹̩̯̯̘͉͕̩̺͟ ̶̨̯͕̳̪͚̥̣͕͍̥̺͇̓ͬ͗ͪͥ̄̅̌͝͞ą̶̶̥̬̞̭̠̪̙̳̩̠̜͎̜̟̻̝̪̑ͬ͂ͨ͗ͅr̶̛̩̖̼͖͖̮̂̓̇͛̄̍͆̊ͬ̎̅ͮ͠͞ḙ̴̸͙̼̦̠͓͈̳̝͎̯ͩͪ̈́̄̇̑̎̑ͅ ̵̧̧̗̯̰̭̼̱̰̼̘̹̪͚̞͓͓̉ͦ̀ͧ̒g̵̴͓̝͙̩͒́ͨ̅͌̿͜ë̛͙̩̰̦̳̯͓͍͓͓̬̲͙̺́̅ͭ͛̀ͩ͋̓͝ẗ̴̢̛͉̱̜̝̬̲̮̣͎̭̭̜̬̼̣̳̫̠́͌ͥ̒͜͡ͅt̨̬͖͚͒̈ͩ̕͠͡ͅi̴̛̩̰̜̫̝̜̓̿͆̾͂̇̍́͌ͬ͒̐ͤ͋̈̈́͆͆̓n̷̛̠̮̻̼̰͔̯͓̬̞̣͖̩̜̲ͫͦͬ̋͒̅̑ͅg̫̗̼̘̟̫̪̻̙̪̬̪̭͔̳̖͙̉̽̽ͬ͑ͧ̆̉ͯ̓ͥ̍͑̌͟͜͟͡ ̷͖̱̝͖̟̗̮̹̪̖ͦͮ̿̒̈́ͦ̅͑̊͌̀̈͜͞͞ͅa̷͍̥̞͚̲͔̟̳̪̺̗̗̤ͪ͛ͮ̏̽̎̀͟͝ͅn̵̢̛̻͍̭̠̹͍̖̘͎̘̟̖͙̤͓͙ͤ̈́ͤͨ̄̔ͤ̎ͥ̐ͭ̍̽̽ͧ̾̚͘͝n̴̲̹̰͈̘̫͓̙̺̎͋̌ͬ͗͌ͧ̋̌͂̍͐̽ͯ̓̌̚͜͠o̬̪̜̟̱͈͇̤̜̫͍̤͎̼̫̩̹̰̱͐̊̈͐͆̏ͧ͋̅̽̌ͦͫ͋ͣ́̚̚͘͟͠ý̵̡̢̝̣̳̫̖̙͉͚̤͓͔̌͂̓ͯ͘ͅì̶̢̖̲̺͖͉̲̮̭̻̭̣̓̓ͨn̶̨̤͔̫͖ͤ͐̍ͬ̏̈́ͬ̐ͩͬ͑͆́g̵̢̰͔͎̮̪̳̖̖̙̐͛ͩ̀̆͐͒ͯ̑ͮ́͛ͯ̚ͅ” He spat out, more dull gold coating the flooring.
In less than a minute, Dipper had Henry sprawled across the tile, gold mixing with crimson on his body, similar to a poison.

“Dipper…Please…This isn’t you…” Henry choked out, panting. If there was some way to make him remember himself…What did he always hate doing… T͚̞̞ͭ̑̽̓h̝͙̝̜͙͉͈̉͗̓́͢͢i̧͕̰͍̞̯̰̭͇̊ͯs̝̥̼̖͓̿̇́̒̓̇̇͜͟ ̧̖̇͒͛̔ͤ͒̐͋i̵̝̼͙͋ͩͮ̈́͊ͫ̚̕͢s̠͖͕̠̹̲͊̉̎̏̾ͤ̋͘ ̞̙̦̳̎ͣb̳̖̝͈̫̯ͫͣ̅̓ơ̶̤̣̱̰͍ͦ̍͛͗ͯ̌r̨̧͓̳̞̪͙̂͋̀i͖̳̗͍͔ͯ̚n̞̤̬͂͗̈ͪ̉͘ͅͅͅg͈̭͔̩̘ͫ̐͋̉ͩ̏̽̚.̟̰̑ͫ̇́ ̻͍̦̠͈̊ͥͦ̎̋M̡̘̝̖̀ͮ̃͆̐̈̔̚ǎ̳̫͇͙͒̿y̜̘̫̳̼̘͙̌̈b̖̲̼̹̼̤͚̆ͨ̐̎e̳̯̖̠̲̬ͩ̏͆̌ͧ̓͠ ͈̙͍̱̰̪̬̳̠̅̆̃̐́̕Í̈̓̎̓ͩ̀̑͏̣͍̝̯’̵͚̫̲̙̟͕̭̓ͪͩ͑̐ͭl̴̢̞̥̲̤̳̤̟̙̐̾̎̕l̮̹̀́̀͝ ̩̲͍ͬ̆ͦ̔̓͛́̚͝͡g̗̥̤̠̗̤̤̅ͪ́͝͠o̡̮̭̠̼̩͆͋̑͐̌̉ͤ ̧̖̱̩̖̝̥̽͌ͬ͡͞s̓̋͊̃̚҉͉̩͕̻͖̱͉̝e̺̪ͥ̈̂̓̃e̴̢͈̩̮̩̣̣ͫ͒ͦͭ̚ ̲̺͆ͭ̅̎ͨ̇͗̇̃ẉ̪̬̤͍̻̘ͭ̏̋̾̆̉͜h͉̤̠͉͕̮͓͐ͮ̒a̷̘̺̪̟̘͎͕͉̓̾̋ͮͧ͠t̵̮̗̥̦̻͂ͤ̔ͪ͐̚ ̸̺̦͉̹̅̓̏̆́Ş̷̯̞̦̻̗̜̳͕̇̀ͤ̇͗̑͌ͅḥ̶͕̼̜͇̙̠͍̻͗̄ͮ̌́͒̀ǒ̲̘̬̠̏͂͂ͨ̚ò͉͔̲͔ͦ̅̀t̸̯͚̼̰̯͔̉͊̅̉̎ͮ̊ͅi̸̐̑͐̄ͬ̊ͭ͏̳̦̠̘̖̩͍n̴̫̫̗̹̮̩͇̦͒̒͌̓ͤ̐̓̆ͅg̟͚̺̱̻̗̋̇͛̎ͦ͟͡ ͈̲̦̯̗̟͓̗̈̋̈̌̈́̌̽̆͜͟ͅS̜̈ͨ̃̀̇̌͝ṱ̥͍̖̌a͓̹̙̠̓̓r̨̝̺͓̱̬̅̏̂ͅ ̻̬̇ͩ͗ͯ̄̄̈ͪ̿i̛̮̤̫͚̣̓ͪ̏̂ͯ̿ͨs̸̈͒ͬͯ͆̆̆҉͉̘̯͎͈̦ ͕̗͓̬̝ͭͬ̂̏ũ̡͖͓͙̺͚̯̣̹̪̊͌̋̓ͤ̒̈̉̀͠p̴̴̧͔̬̭̟̞͊ ̮ͪ͌ͪ̚t̷̤͈̼͍̊̈͛̐ͫ̈͋́ơ̵͚͎͔͎̮̜͚̈́̓ͮ̓̓̎ͦ͡ͅ!̷̭͍̫͈͕̞̿͊̌͐̌͞” He grinned, more bricks working there way along his body.

Finally, it struck Henry. ” Go ahead…Bill…” Dipper froze, bat wings twitching. W̢̦̙͉͉͎ͣ̓ͫ̍ͅh͔̿̀̒̌ͦ̀ả͓̫̹̅̂ͧ̕t̰̮̝͊̌͗ͣ̚͠ ̭͚̯̠̘ͬ̉̾͟ḏ̵̟̩͔̹͕̊ͬ͆̀̋i̝̮̲͓ͩ͋͒̇̑d̷̤̤̱ ͓̙̱̤͉̜̫ͣͤͬ̾̆̚yͥ̑o̹̺͔̫̰͆u̝̲̤͚͍ͩ̈̕ ̗ͫ̈́̊c̛̝̪ͦ̀͑a̷͇͑l̲̩̯̜͈̕l̩͍̩̔̽͗̆̾͞ͅ ̮̂̒̐m̬̳̠͍̔͠e͕̿ͩ̇̾͞?̖͙̳͖̱̐ͬͧͮͧ̀” The demon sneered, staring at Henry with his empty black eyes. “Bill. Only Bill would call Mabel Shooting Star.” Ǐ͆̋̿̒̆̔̎ͣ̉ͤͭ͑ͬͧ̋̓ͧͪ͏͙̠̯͔̖̪̰̖̗̰͓̞̤̤ͅ ̴̴͎̳͉̣̤̰̐̈ͭ̌̓͆͐͒̎̋͋̉̎̉͂͌͘͝Ăͣ͐ͨ̀̀͏̨͏̙̲͖̣̘͇̤͔̞̳̣̗M̶ͬͣͤ͐ͩ̈́ͪͬ͒̈ͨͮ̌͝͏͖͉̖͉̻̘̺̪̙̖̖ͅ ̸̷͖͍͔͉̣̭͕̱̠͗ͮ̌͐͒̓̔̈́͑̏ͬ͛̀̏ͫ̓͝͝N̷̴̸̛̘̹̰̜̥̞͓͙͕͖̮̯̫̝̪̙̩̎̌͂͆̂O̘̟͉̼̯̙͔̘̻̠̮̗̬̩̯ͥ́ͨͯͥ͊̉ͥͯ̀̚T̷̛̲̠͚͖̦̺̀̽̍ͦ́ ҉̪̙͙̭͉̻̤̫͈̞̫͎͉̗̖̬͈̹̕B͛̒ͭͨ̾̑ͣ͐̄̆̉̔͐͛ͫ̀̚͏̜̞̠̼̜̻̠̣͔͉̟̺̻̗͖̘̳Ỉ̡͊̐̃̓ͮ̍ͨ͋̅̃̒̏ͬ͑ͧ̒̚͜҉̸̳͈̪͓̞͓̱̘̩̜̝̜̟͔̘͘Ḷ̸̵͚̻̜͎̼̮̙̗̭̫͉̬͙̤̻͔̹̓ͨ̐ͯͫͦͬ̅ͨ͌̓͗́̀͢͞Ĺ̢̛̄̋ͤͤͧ͆̾̃̀҉̜͉͈̗̀!̢̜̻̼͇͓̬̗ͣ̒ͧ̌͑ͣͧ͆́͢͜ͅ” He screeched, blue flames enveloping his hands.
“Doesn’t look like it.” Henry nearly grinned. If Mabel hadn’t told him the story, and he hadn’t seen Dipper’s reactions to hearing about Bill, he would probably be dead by now. Dipper’s growls had escalated from their regular groans to inhuman roars. His form was flickering from default to demonic so quickly it was like a flipbook.

The roars died down, and Dipper’s gruesome appearance faded away, leaving his regular well-dressed self mumbling in a quiet, echoing voice. “I’m not Bill, I’m not Bill, I’m not Bill…” He repeated, letting his voice pitter out.

“Ugh, Dipper? You okay?” Henry half asked, half groaned, his cuts oozing a deep red. “Henry…I’m…Please forgive me…” He stated quietly, hair falling over his eyes. “Hey, it’s okay. I’m just glad we’re both still…sitting.” He smiled.

“Oh! Here, let me fix that.” Dipper waved his hand, healing the smaller cuts and bruises. He couldn’t heal all of them, since some were far to serious to deal with without a deal, much to his chagrin.

“Thanks. Is your throat…” Henry asked. “Fine, I’m fine, just a visit to the Dreamscape should make it go away.” Dipper answered, his form already slipping away. Henry tried to call him back, but he was already gone.