Roleplay

"Yeah," said Bill, after a moment. "Okay. You guys have fun." For once, Bill had absolutely no reserve about turning tail and fleeing in Dipper's wake. The kid has some brains after all. Can't see where the hell he got it, though.

On general principles, he also made off with Ford's mug. What, like the old man was going to notice?

What Bill didn't notice—at least, not until he'd settled down cross-legged next to the chair, and peered into it—was that it was still empty. "Aw, for Christ's—ugh, whatever." He accepted the bacon absently, set the empty mug down beside his knee, and snapped the fingers of his newly-freed hand, consuming the treat in a little crackle of blue flame.

"Mm. Taste buds would probably have helped," he admitted, lifting his voice to be heard over the argument from the kitchen. "So. You're still scribbling in that book of yours? I thought Fordsy would've taken it back by now. Or did you start your own?"

Boy, he missed eyebrows. They were so expressive. That whole brief flirtation with a fully human form, in Dipper's mindscape ... nah. He widened his eye now, in an attempt to convey the same general air of interest.

((Ok I personally think mabel as a hidden pile of sweaters and she dives in it to grab her daily sweater))

Opening her eyes all she saw was dot poking her cheek "No need for poking me now" Sitting up she rubbed her eyes "So what excatly did I miss when I went back to sleep" getting off her bed she walked over to her huge pile of sweaters jumping at the pile she shoved herself into it reaching out and grabbing a sweater from it she slid it on. Smiling widely she turned to dot "Kay I'm dressed let's get food!" and turned towards the stairs to head downstairs and get breakfast

Dipper shook his head. "No I have my own book now. And that;s weird, how does that work?"

"Well, your brother and Bill's antics, that's what," Dot said, floating in midair once more, turning the corner of his eye up in what seemed to be a smile.

"I was there for adult supervision," Ford shot back. "They were perfectly fine. From what I've seen is that they've had more dangerous things happen to them when they're alone with you. Is it a coincidence that Dipper collapses the one day that I leave without him? And now you won't even tell me what happened? What. Did. You. Do. Stanely?"

"Oh, adult supervision is sooo important in the face of deathly paranormal creatures?" Stan yelled. "I know for a fact that you didn't even finish studying everything in there, not to mention that you sent Dipper in there with only a pen. Taking the pen is mightier than the sword a little bit seriously Poindexter."

"Don't call me that!" Ford's narrowed eyed stare became an outright glare. "And who's fault is it that I wasn't able to finish my research?"

Stan flinched violently at the reminder of that night.

Rolling her eyes she looked over at dot "Oh geez what they do now" she asked and tugged at the sleeves of her sweater "I'm guessing they said something wrong or anything like that" smiling at her demon she stopped when she heard her grunkles yelling "Uhhhh I don't think getting breakfast right now is the best" she said "Want to find dip and bill and just see what exactly they did?"

"What's weird?" Bill asked, his voice abstracted. "You're gonna have to be more specific, kiddo." Dipper could probably get away with asking him—well, almost anything, given his level of distraction about the elder Pines, his plans for Stanley, his newfound satisfaction with Dipper's sweetening disposition, tempered significantly by his anxiety about Dipper in general ...

Hearing the clatter of patent-leather shoes coming down the stairs, Bill paused to call, "I'd avoid the kitchen, Matrix. The Stans are having a spat, it seems. I didn't cause it," he added, after an unnecessarily long pause. "Though God knows I was trying. Dipper brought breakfast for everyone, though. Heh. Brought breakfast."

(( meanwhile, everyone hides in the living room while stan and ford rip each other apart ))

"Your 'eating' method. Like, where excatly does it go?" He was too busy thinking to her Dot behind him with his sister.

"Basically they argued briefly whether or not Bill looked good in Dipper's hat." Dot sighed. "More of the usual, I'm afraid." He hovered next to the girl in the living room.

((Shhhh It'll get better. .....eventually. ANd not everyone. Where is Pi?))

"You think I don't know that?" Stan said lowly, straightening up as much as he could. "What do you think I spent thirty years trying to correct?"

"Tearing the universe apart at the seams," Ford snapped back. "Ending the world. Stealing my life, home, name and accomplishments. Take your pick. Oh wait. You already did."

Stan tried to stop his flinch that time. He knew that everything he did was a mistake. He knew that better than anything other than how much he loved his family. There were days that Stan wondered if this whole situation would be easier if he could hate his brother like Ford hated him.

"Would you rather I have left you there?" Stan snapped back, after only a half a second of hesitation.

"Oh. Huh." Bill tapped a fingertip to where his chin would be, looking thoughtful. "I'm new to all this—I'd presume my stomach? I'll let you know, in a few hours. Assuming my anonymity as a test subject will be preserved?" It was eerie, how well an entity with no actual facial features to speak of could communicate a leer.

"I maintain that I looked no worse in Dipper's hat than Dipper does himself, which ... all right, I'll grant you. Here, kid. Have an egg. Have six." Bill was delighted to find that his empty mug actually served a purpose, and he didn't figure Mabel would mind a little creative serving. Hell, she'd probably think they tasted better that way, and would insist she eat all her meals in the future out of a mug.

He didn't trouble himself about reaching freely onto Dipper's plate, anyway.

Dipper smacked his hand. "Hey my breakfast!" He glared at him, somehow not phased by his expressions.

"No. He's right you looked stupid," countered Dot.