you don’t evEN UNDERSTAND THE AWFUL THINGS BILL COULD HAVE DONE TO THAT BODY WHILE HE WAS INHABITING IT.
HE WANTS DIPPER OUT OF THE WAY DO YOU KNOW THE HORRIBLE TERRIBLE UNGODLY THINGS HE VERY REALISTICALLY MIGHT HAVE DONE TO TRASH THAT BODY
DO YOU UNDERSTAND DIPPER DISCOVERING THESE AWFUL THINGS ONE BY ONE ONCE HES GOT HIS BODY BACK. THE WORRY OVER WHAT HIS BODY HAS BECOME. WHAT HE’S BECOME.
HE INHABITED A SOCK PUPPET APPARENTLY THE VESSEL DOESN’T HAVE TO BE ALIVE DO YOU U N D E R S T A N D
WAIT NO IM NOT DONE YET IM JUST
"HUMAN SODA IM GONNA DRINK IT LIKE A PERSON" WHY STOP AT SODA WHY NOT DRINK MILK AND WATER AND JUICE AND BLEACH AND DRAINO AND ANTIFREEZE THEYRE ALL AVAILABLE IVE HEARD ANTIFREEZE IS YUMMY
THOSE FORKS IN HIS HAND WELL THERE ARE PLENTY OF DRAWERS WITH BUTCHER KNIVES THAT ARE EQUALLY FUN TO SLAM THOSE WOULDNT BE HARD TO FIND
"THESE ARMS ARE DURABLE" WELL BILL’S A CURIOUS GUY JUST HOW DURABLE ARE THEY ARE THEY DURABLE ENOUGH TO SLAM IN THE OVEN DOOR OR IN THE CAR DOOR OR INTO THE LAWNMOWER WHO KNOWS LETS FIND OUT HUMAN ARMS ARE INTERESTING
BIPPER WALKING AROUND IN BROAD DAYLIGHT GRINNING EAR TO EAR AS HIS RIGHT ARM BLEED PROFUSELY AND HIS LEFT ONE DANGLES BENT BACKWARD AT THE ELBOW AND HIS INSIDE LIQUEFY AND DIPPER CAN ONLY FLY AFTER HIM AND WATCH AND ASK IF HE EVEN WANTS TO GET BACK IN IT IF HE COULD TAKE THAT SORT OF PAIN
So if Bill managed to really eff up Dipper’s body while he was in it, and Dipper managed to get back in, would he be a ghost possessing his own corpse?
WHY WOULD YOU SAY THAT
anthropwashere's Tags: nO NO THIS IS TOO SAD THERE IS A LINE AND THIS POST HAS VAULTED OVER IT gravity falls
So horrible mutilations that will never fully heal are okay, but revenant!Dipper isn’t?
A 12 year old boy is tricked via an underhanded deal with a terrifying and malicious demon and is forcefully expelled from his own body. Now he has no choice but to watch as the demon brutalizes his body in ways that would make the boy sick to his stomach if a) he still had one or b) if his stomach wasn’t already full of antifreeze and magnets. He watches fork prongs pierce clean through his skinny arms, one of which is broken after some overeager banging in the oven door. The demon beats his face against the kitchen table until there is an artistic drip of red and three teeth scattered on the scratched wood. The demon arranges his lost teeth into a triangle shape and laughs. Not long after, it finds out the effectiveness of a steak knife over fingernails on a little boy’s knees. The smell of cooked meat comes after the discovery of his great uncle’s favorite lighter.
When his body’s eyes have gone blue-white and foaming (bleach under the sink, nearly a full bottle, now empty and tossed aside like it meant nothing, like pain really is just a joke even when the demon is the one enduring it), he thinks that this, at last, would be the end of it. But no, of course it isn’t. This thing in his body has no concept of boundaries or limitations, it’s going to run his body into the ground and laugh the whole way there, and there is not one thing he can do to stop it.
No one notices the marks or the blood or even his maimed face, because even hemmed in by meat the demon is stronger than anything the boy has ever dealt with, will ever deal with. A glitter of magic and they don’t even hear how twisted his voice is, so could they see the smears on the dashboard?
So here in this old theater is his body, bloodlessly pale and bubbling over with poisons, and here is he, begging his sister to help save what can be saved of his body via a repurposed gym sock. Thank god but she listens, she’s there for him finally. There’s the big standoff in the rafters, the laughably easy fight on the stage, and it’s his sister that’s the one to run his body to the ground. It isn’t until the demon’s been expelled that the glamour vanish, that the mess a few hours without supervision is revealed.
Weak shrieks of horror sweep through the audience, but the boy doesn’t think about it. He sees an empty body and thinks home, so he rushes in without thinking and then there is pain—pain like he didn’t know could exist in one little nervous system, pain he doesn’t have the words for. The whole of this strange little town he’s lived in for a few short weeks is there to watch him scream, watch him spasm, but before anyone can even rush the stage he’s gone, candlelight in a breeze, and it’s his sister that hugs his ruined body close to find that’s it already gone cold, died hours ago but what did that matter to a monster?
Igniting the stage is an afterthought, merely an appropriate response to chase away a demon cackling away in a puppet shaped like her brother.
The boy’s great uncle and his sister are there on the stage, the rest of the townsfolk still too stunned to do more than hover by their seats (what happened, how did this happen, is he—y’know—), and so it’s only them that see the boy’s broken fingers twitch, his blind eyes spin. The boy’s mouth parts in a tired grin full of holes.
"Did we get him?" he rasps.
The boy still isn’t breathing.
I’m reblogging this now. I’m reblogging this again tomorrow when it’s not 1 am because THIS THIS IS IT. Yes. Wow. OH MY GOD.