#Mabel would have squeezed her way into his life already. Dipper is not good with people

[obsessivefangirl]

"Stan favors Mabel and Ford Dipper" WRONG!!!

#We see them interact less due to their personalities. #Mabel is attracted to Stan much quicker #due to her nature of getting on other's good sides and wanting to be friends #as well as outgoing. #While Dipper was still unsure about his feelings of this for all intents and purposes stranger #Mabel would have squeezed her way into his life already. Dipper is not good with people #and insecure #so he takes Stan's jabs seriously just like he does with Mabel. Mabel and Stan have a love language #that include a few insults that have no real feelings in it. #He wouldn't catch on and participate or (depending on when) tell him straight up he doesn't like it. #Dipper is in it for the mysteries and locks himself up while focusing on it. It's on his mind the entire show. #Ford wasn't meant to talk to the kids. He was even avoiding Dipper until an accident happened and he got caught up in the game of ddmd. #Not to mention that the episodes almost always contribute to the story #even filler ones. They may not progress the plot but they will reveal sides of characters or show them growing or changing. #Ford was in it so little that they needed to squeeze the most out of the time which led to little Mabel and him filler. #He didn't have any problems with Mabel unlike how Dipper had some problems with Stan so that wasn't an issue to address #they love each other ur honor #gravity falls #my ramblings

[feferipeixes]

Child I Will Hurt You

One of the weirdest things to Alcor about being a father was how automatically Toby trusted him.

Which really freaked him out because he didn’t feel he should be trusted to raise a child. After all, he was practically still a child himself.

(See the most updated version on AO3!)

===

The thing that scared Alcor the most about raising Toby was how fully the boy trusted him.

He’d experienced and marveled at that kind of trust before. When Mabel found him after that fateful day in 2012 and threw herself at him, sobbing with relief that he wasn’t gone after all, he felt it. When Stan took him and Mabel into his home a few years later, patted him on the back and said “It’s no problem, kid”, he felt it. When he warned Mabel that he shouldn’t be trusted with the triplets’ true names and Mabel shouted him right out of his self-flagellation, he felt it.

The first day he brought Toby home after finding him alone and shivering on the street, he felt something very different.

Panic.

Panic over who the child in front of him truly was underneath that thin layer of flesh. Panic over what would happen if he didn’t stop whatever Bill was planning. Panic as he remembered Weirdmageddon over and over again in complete, horrific detail.

“Listen kid,” he said, floating a few feet off the ground so he could better tower over the child, “no funny business, okay? You hear me in there, Bill?”

Toby only cocked his head, scraggly and unwashed golden locks tumbling away from his face to reveal his scarred eye. He still wore the half-scared half-curious look he’d had when he’d first caught the demon’s attention, but there was something else bubbling up. Something that tasted suspiciously like trust.

It really freaked Alcor out because he didn’t feel he should be trusted to raise a child. Trust was something you gave to adults who knew what they were doing, after all, and he was practically still a child himself.

Alcor grimaced, and lowered onto his knees so he could look the boy directly in the eyes. “I mean it. I’m watching you. I’ll know if anything bad happens.”

To his surprise, Toby smiled at that. “You can make the bad things stop?”

“Yes,” Alcor replied, his voice cracking like it hadn’t in centuries because he was already messing this up, he was sure of it. “N-no getting into trouble. Not on my watch.”

The boy’s face lit up, trust shining brilliant from both eyes, and before Alcor could tell what was happening, Toby had reached up and hugged him around the neck.

And the demon remembered

Bill’s little pipe cleaner hands iron-clad around his neck,

Squeezing the life out of him,

Blue fire rushing all over his body,

Over and into his soul,

Screaming until there was no more breath left in him,

And the little boy’s smile radiated such trust and hope that Alcor was left completely speechless.

“Thank you,” Toby squeaked, and Alcor felt it.

---

“Oh stars, I can’t do this, I can’t do this!” Alcor was in his human disguise, head in hands, elbows resting on the counter, rambling like the world was ending. “I’m way in over my head. Raising a child? Me? I mean I looked after Mabel’s triplets but this is so different…”

“...Sir?” The cashier’s hand hovered over Alcor’s head, unsure whether it was appropriate or comforting to actually pat him. “Are you alright?”

“No!” he fumed, lashing out and knocking over some of his groceries. “I have a six year old at home and he trusts me to look after him and keep him safe! How could this possibly have happened?”

“Uh…” The cashier peered behind the man to the customers in line, most of whom looked some degree of disgruntled or confused. She gave them a little wave to indicate that they should probably move to a different register, and then turned back to the man who appeared to be hyperventilating now. “Do you have a partner? Anyone who’s helping you?”

“Of course not, I’m alone, I’ve got no friends,” he moaned. “There’s no one who I trust enough to foist Toby off to. The poor boy has such bad karma -- he needs me to protect him from that or he’ll get eaten alive!”

“Well… it sounds like you’ve got the right instincts at least. You want to keep him safe.”

“That’s just it! I don’t!” Alcor picked his head up and the cashier saw streaks of a strange yellow liquid running down his face. “Everything I’m doing for him is just stuff I picked up from watching my sister raise her kids! I don’t have any kind of adulting instincts -- none at all! I transcended when I was fucking twelve and that’s where I’ll be stuck until the end of time. I’m just a pointless child! I’ve got too much power and no actual ability to help anyone!”

The cashier sighed and -- after the man nodded to say it was alright -- put her hand on his shoulder. “Listen, man, all of that stuff sounds normal.” (Except for the parts that made no sense to her at all but she opted to ignore them.) “No one knows how to raise a kid, and no one ever feels like they’ve grown up. You learn it as you go. Trust me, my kids ran me ragged and I had no idea what I was doing. But they turned out alright. So will yours.”

Alcor’s voice began to wobble, and he pressed gloved hands to his temples. “But he won’t! I’m developmentally frozen. I’m not capable of learning anything! Seriously, what kind of adult buys this much candy?”

She glanced at his cart, which indeed was half filled with Giddy Cowboys and Sneakers bars. “That is a lot,” she admitted. “I would not advise giving your kid that much candy.”

“What? No.” Alcor stopped sniffling and pulled a face like he’d just smelled poo. “That’s for me. I’m buying all these vegetables and milk and chicken for Toby. He’s a growing kid, he needs to eat healthy, get all those food groups in, you know. I’m not stupid. But I am childish for liking candy so much that I’d eat this much of it in a week! I mean, seriously! Oh stars, I’m hopeless!”

The cashier lifted an eyebrow and removed her hand. “You eat all of this… in a week?”

“I know, I know, I’m ridiculous!”

“That’s not what I meant,” the cashier cut in, before he could start gibbering again. “I’m just worried about your teeth. Your… teeth…” She trailed off as the man suddenly yawned, exposing two rows of jagged knives that could sink into her flesh in an instant. “Your, um, your- your-”

Alcor pulled a mirror out of seemingly nowhere and started picking at his teeth. “What, do I have something in them?”

The cashier’s eyes widened even more as the man’s gloves came off. “My… what pointy claws you have…”

“Thank- wait.” Alcor froze, one long blackened nail still pressed into his gum. “Wait a minute. Pointy. Sharp. Cutting and slicing and ripping open oh stars!”

“Um- um- um-” the cashier tried to say, but with every word she felt like she was shrinking until she’d be swallowed up by her clothes. “Slicing?”

Alcor shook his head furiously, and this time his fist was positively trembling when it came down onto the counter. “I haven’t child proofed the knife drawer in the kitchen!”

He flipped his hat off of his head and pulled out a wad of cash, which he then thrust into the cashier’s hands just as her lights went out. Before anyone else could react, he vanished into thin air, taking his groceries and the shopping cart with him.

“I can’t believe I didn’t think of this before,” Alcor grumbled as he zeroed in on the offending drawer. He pulled it open and there they were -- obscene, dangerous implements that he was a wicked and cruel caretaker to have potentially exposed his child to. He couldn’t stop imagining what might’ve happened if Toby had tried to pull open the drawer and it had fallen on him -- couldn’t stop thinking about his little boy sticking his adorable hand in and receiving cuts and lacerations and awful, awful sobbing filling the house…

With a snap, child locks were in place. Alcor tested them out by trying to pull the drawer open -- and it took a few tries before even he was able to. Sighing with relief, he leaned against the counter and slid down to the floor. His feet bumped up against the shopping cart sitting in the middle of the kitchen, overflowing with Reece’s Mugs and Chortle Taffy and Quasarbursts.

He couldn’t do this. He was too irresponsible.

Alcor dug a hand into the cart and pulled out a candy bar. He sank his teeth into it, enjoyed the rush of sweetness that was almost as good as flesh and bone. Slowly he began to unclench his muscles -- even though his form was imaginary, the cramps shooting throughout his body still hurt. He slid down the counter a little further, almost letting his head touch the floor -- and then he noticed it.

The stairs.

Bolting upright, Alcor let the candy bar fall from his hand. The stairs. How hadn’t he thought about that before? What if Toby fell down and tumbled into the banister and lost his other eye? What if what if what if?

Not a minute later, the demon was wrestling with child safety gates, somehow struggling even with all of his considerable power just to get them to attach to the wall. At one point he tipped his jaw back and used his tongue to line the edges with spit, which then solidified like glue. The stairs had to be safe. He couldn’t risk Toby getting hurt.

And with that thought came even more thoughts that sent Alcor racing through the house. What if Toby slipped in the bathtub? What if Toby climbed on top of the fridge and couldn’t get down? What if Bill slammed his arm in a drawer again and again and again and again until it was full of forks and then he poured soda into his eyes and laughed like a maniac while Dipper drowned in the vast emptiness of the Mindscape???

Alcor stiffened. He set down the intricate contraption he’d been building to keep Toby safe from wild animals in the backyard. And he looked into the mirror.

What was he doing?

This was Bill’s soul he was fretting over. It was always him, on the inside, and he’d known it from the very first day he’d seen the boy. He knew what was lurking beneath the surface, what kind of monster slept in that innocent form waiting until one day he could reach out and traumatize his father once more. Reach out and steal his beating heart, and laugh, and live, and die, and laugh, and live, and die, in a way he’d never be able to again.

A chill passed through Alcor’s body. Something had to be wrong with him, because he knew what Toby was and he’d spent the entire week worrying about the boy. Why did he care so much?

Quietly, he crept down the hall, and peered into the bedroom on the right. There he was -- the beast himself -- sleeping soundly in a bed decorated with race cars and rocket ships. A few more steps, and Alcor could see how small he looked, how even in his sleep he seemed so broken. And the demonic instincts that had rushed through Alcor since the day he’d gone up in flames were quelled, because every fiber of his being told him he needed to protect this child.

He rested a hand on the boy’s forehead, and watched him dream about running around in a field of grass, playing catch with his new father.

---

Thus started a new routine. A demon, trying day-to-day to take care of a small child. Playing grown up even though he felt so utterly unprepared for what he was doing. But Alcor’s life didn’t stop when he became a parent.

Neither did any of his other regular obligations.

“Oh, you’re asking for it now!” Alcor roared, jumping to his feet. “I’m gonna run you through with my sword! Die die die die!”

The dungeon master -- Damien -- peered over his half-rimmed glasses at the demon and smirked. “Not gonna work, I’m afraid. The slime beast’s armor is too thick to be pierced by a sword such as your own.”

Alcor gaped with disbelief. “Whaaat? I call foul play! You let Anushka do it!”

“Anushka’s sword has a fire enchantment on it. Slime armor is weak to heat.”

“Also, I said die five times,” Anushka added with a shit-eating grin on her face, jabbing Alcor in the side with her elbow. “Die die die die die!”

Alcor snorted and dropped back into his chair. “Well, you got me there.” He looked at the other players, disappointment rolling over into amusement. “Can I change my move or am I locked in?”

Damien shrugged. “Go for it. I don’t think you’ll be able to beat it this turn though, and you’ve only got one hit point remaining.”

Nat leaned over and whispered in his ear. “Yo, I’ve got an idea. You should defend this turn and try to survive the slime’s attack, and then on my turn I can fire enchant your sword.”

“Huh. Maybe…” He patted his head to get the spittle out of his ear, and surveyed the map of the dungeon they were in. Then he sat bolt upright in his seat, a large exclamation mark appearing over his head. “Damien. How many sword actions do I get this turn?”

Damien rolled a die. “Two.”

“Yessss. Okay. First, I lunge at the slime again! But with the blunt end of my sword so it gets knocked back.”

Damien rolled another die. “Yep. That works. Are you gonna use your free movement to approach it again?”

Alcor shook his head. “Nope. I’m gonna throw my sword -”

“Your sword doesn’t have enough piercing damage to make a difference from that distance, I’m afraid.”

The room’s dim lighting glinted off of razor sharp teeth. “- at the cable holding up the chandelier.”

Anushka and Nat dropped their pencils, and looked straight up, momentarily forgetting that they were not actually in the dungeon they were traversing. “You what?”

Damien rolled a die again, and sucked in a sharp breath. “Alright. The chandelier falls onto the slime beast before it can react. It quickly catches on fire, leaving it too weak to attack. Congrats!”

Beaming, Alcor scribbled some numbers on his character sheet. “Heck yeah. No slime beast is strong enough to get one past the Dreambender.”

“You’re so creative, Al,” Nat said. “Seriously, wow. I never would’ve thought of that.”

He wove off the compliment. “Naw, I’m just basically a large child. Being silly and immature is what they’re good at.”

Looking up over his dungeon master partition, Damien furrowed his brow. “Why do you say you’re immature -”

There was a ringing in Alcor’s head -- a tug on a bond -- and he held up his hand. “Wait, hold that thought. Speaking of children, my kid’s calling me. I’m gonna have to leave early this week.” He stood up, and did a dramatic bow. “I’ll see ya all next week! Don’t lose my summoning circle!”

Toby -- lying flat on the floor of the Mystery Shack -- perked up at the sight of his adoptive father walking through the door. Tyrone looked about as human as they come -- a man in his mid-thirties with soft brown eyes, no wings, and feet that always touched the ground. He opened his arms and Toby came running to hug him.

Right away there was that trust again, that total trust that Alcor still couldn’t believe he deserved. How could someone like him -- someone who’d just spent two hours playing a tabletop role playing game and laughing about memes -- be trusted to take care of a child?

Gingerly, he took Toby into his arms and gave him a kiss on the cheek. “How are you doing?”

“I’m boooooooored!” Toby whined. “Can we play a game? I wanna play pretend!”

Chuckling, Alcor put Toby down and then sat beside him on the floor. “Sure thing, kid. You know, I’m pretty good at playing games like that. I was playing one with my friends earlier today.”

Toby’s jaw dropped. “Whoaaaaa! You have friends?”

A vein bulged in Alcor’s forehead. “Of course I- never mind. What’s the game, kid? What are we pretending?”

Toby jumped up and started pacing in a circle. “I wanna make up a story! It’s gonna be great! I’ll be the hero and you’ll be the bad guy -- an evil king who wants to kill all of the good people in the land! Is… is that okay?”

There was a mirror mounted on the wall behind where Toby had been sitting. Without the boy in his way, Alcor found his gaze fixed on it. He could see Toby gesturing as he walked and he could see the nostalgic decorations hanging on the wall of the Shack. But there was no Tyrone to speak of.

It took a moment for him to realize that Toby was talking to him. “What? Oh yeah. Of course, kid. I’ll be the bad guy.” He took a deep breath, discarding the voice in his head that furiously objected to him being the villain to Bill’s hero. “What’s my motivation?”

Toby cocked his head. “Moti- what?”

“What’s my backstory? Why am I evil?”

The boy continued to stare at him with a blank look on his face. “You’re evil cause you’re the bad guy and bad guys are evil!”

“That’s kinda boring- never mind.” Alcor grimaced and looked back at the mirror. “So you’re the hero, eh? How are you going to defeat me? What’s the hero good at?”

“Everything!!!!” Toby squealed, and his reflection grabbed onto something invisible. “The hero is the good guy so I should always win and I’ll have all of the magic and the biggest swords ever!”

Alcor shifted so that Toby was hanging onto his shoulders rather than around his middle. “Everything? But if the hero always wins, what’s the point?”

“The good guy always has to win!” the boy chirped, squeezing tight around Alcor’s neck. “Always!”

Oh my stars this is so boring, Alcor thought. How fricking uninventive is Bill’s soul? Children are supposed to be good at being silly and creative. I guess all Bill’s soul can think about is being powerful again.

A figure stepped into the room on the other side of the mirror. It was short -- looked to be about 12 years old -- and had clawed hands, bat wings sprouting from its hips, and a fancy suit that looked out of place for someone so young. Alcor’s jaw dropped as he watched the figure pick up Toby’s reflection, pat him on the back, and then stare directly out of the mirror at the demon.

“This is a game for children,” the figure said in a low growl.

“What?” Alcor yelped.

Toby giggled at the interruption. “I said that all the evil people should die because they’re mean! No one should ever do a bad thing!“

“This is what children are like. They see in black-and-white because they know nothing about how the world works.” Cold, black eyes bored into Alcor’s skull. “Have you forgotten what that’s like?”

“B-but I’m silly,” Alcor stammered, sweat starting to drip down his face. “I’m irresponsible. I love playing games and coming up with interesting stories. Those are childish things for someone as old as me to be doing.”

“Dad?” Toby asked. “What are you saying? I can’t hear you.”

The figure sneered, baring two sets of sharp teeth uncomfortably close to Toby’s head. “Whoever told you that must’ve really hated the idea of growing up.” Toby stirred, and it spent a moment cradling him so he’d calm down. Then those eyes -- now bright and full of gold -- flicked back at the demon. “Who said it? Was it you?”

Alcor gasped and fell over. Toby shrieked as he suddenly found himself tumbling to the ground, and the sound broke Alcor right out of his trance. Quick as a whistle, he pirouetted and caught the boy in his arms, pulling him close to his chest in a tight hug.

“Oh no, oh Toby, are you alright?” he fretted. “Did you get hurt?”

“I’m okay!” Toby squeaked, his face pressed against Alcor’s collarbone. Alcor loosened up on his hug, and took in Toby’s smile. “That was fun! You always catch me! That’s how I know you’re really a good guy.”

“I’m a good guy?” Alcor gulped, and glanced back at the mirror. This time he saw himself, in his present human disguise, holding Toby close, and looking so, so utterly responsible. It freaked him out.

“...Dad?” Toby asked, brow crumpled. “Daaaaad what are you thinking?”

“I think…” Alcor sighed, and gave his son a little kiss on the forehead. “I think it’s time you got some friends your own age.”

---

From that day on, things were a little different.

Alcor bought a house in the physical plane, because a memory of a shack in the Mindscape was no place to raise a child.

“Dad?”

He doctored forms and documents so it not only looked like a certain Tyrone Pines actually existed, but also that he and his adopted son Tobias Pines were legal residents of a sleepy town in the middle of Washington. This let Toby attend school with kids his own age.

“What is it, Toby?”

He went to the library on the weekly to check out parenting books, having long exhausted the meager supply of advice his omniscience had to offer -- as it turned out, parenting was very much a learn-as-you-go experience with few absolute truths to guide you.

“What’s a demon?”

Alcor froze, his hand halfway in the process of turning a page in his book. He started to turn his head around to look at the boy, and remembered just in time to turn his body around with it.

“Where did you hear that?” Alcor asked carefully.

Toby kept his head down, opting to study his father’s shoes instead of his face. “I, um...”

There it was again, that emotion bubbling up inside of Alcor, that instinctual distrust he couldn’t help but feel for the soul who had once taken everything from him. It was all he could do not to jump up and yell “Aha! Caught you red-handed, Bill! I knew you were in there all along!”

He got out of his chair and knelt in front of the child, using a finger to gently raise the boy’s head so they could see eye-to-eye. “You can tell me,” he said softly. “It’s okay.”

Alcor saw Toby reach into that pure, automatic trust he had for the monster who was raising him. The boy gulped, and squared his shoulders.

“Um... Devon’s dad said it to Devon.”

Alcor blinked. “Is that so? Devon, the kid in your class who asked you to play baseball with him?”

Toby nodded. “H-he was asking me again, and I know you said I wasn’t allowed to, but he started showing me anyway. He got his bat and swinged it and it looked really cool. Then his dad yelled at him and said ‘Devon, you little demon, cut that out right now!’“

Alcor could only stare, mouth agape, in response. Toby started to tremble as he continued speaking. “Then Devon’s dad took the baseball bat and Devon got really sad and I didn’t know what it means but it looked bad and I don’t want to be a little demon and I’m really really sorry I said I wanted to play baseball I don’t want to be a demon I don’t I don’t -”

He cut off with a squeak as his father took him into his arms and hugged him tight.

Alcor was a being with access to more power and magic than almost anything else in the universe. He could level mountains, he could turn cities inside out, he could institute universal basic income on the moon with a snap of his fingers.

But when he held Toby in his arms, when he saw the awestruck look on the boy’s face when he played the violin for him, when he listened to Toby babble excitedly about whatever he’d learned in school that day, Alcor felt powerful.

All of his magic crumbled beneath the obscene power granted to him by way of this child’s trust in him. He had the power to protect this child, to support and encourage him to grow up to be the best person he could be. He could also betray Toby’s trust so, so easily.

He could punish his son for no reason if he needed an emotional pick-me-up. He could disregard the boy’s concerns and laugh in his face. He could even raise his voice just a little too much, caught in a moment of frustration, and leave Toby wincing in distress -- an ephemeral moment in Alcor’s life but an upsetting and formative moment in Toby’s which could forever mar their relationship.

That would be childish. That would be immature of him.

Alcor had killed reams of cultists, had bestowed disturbing curses on people who’d only sort of deserved it, had terraformed the western coast of the United States in a fit of rage. He’d done a lot of horrible things with his magic, but.

This power, this power he had to shape Toby’s life.

This power horrified him.

“You’re not a demon,” Alcor said, (and it felt so unfair to be saying that to him of all people -- so cruel and dirty that he wanted to scream until his hair fell out. But he didn’t.)

“Don’t cry,” (even though no one had held him when he cried that day in 2012, because he’d simply slipped through their fingers, and he wanted to repay that favor. But he didn’t.)

“Daddy’s here,” he whispered, before kissing Toby’s tears away. “You’re not in trouble.”

The words came so naturally, as if he knew exactly what he was doing. As if he had the experience to understand what was upsetting his son, and the power to make it better. As if he had the maturity to push past his own conflicted feelings, because he was an adult, and this was a little child.

He set Toby down, and kneeled to meet his eyes. In that moment, he felt tall. Sort of grown up.

Toby sniffled. “You’d never yell at me? Even if I do something wrong?”

Alcor thought once again back to the day he’d seen Bill Cipher on the side of the road. Thought about the furious, vengeful part of him that enjoyed the boy’s suffering because that’s what he deserved. Remarked on how the universe had served him up his greatest enemy in the most vulnerable form possible, giving him the opportunity to take Toby’s trust and do unspeakable things to him.

“Sure thing, kiddo,” he said, ruffling the boy’s hair. “I promise.”

Remembered how he’d instead chosen love.

---

It was a dark and stormy night that found Alcor wandering the streets of a mostly-abandoned city.

He’d been summoned -- it always started with a summons -- and he’d been angry. It didn’t even matter what had made him angry, because there were so many things these days that people absolutely would not stop doing no matter how much he screamed and threatened and threw flaming balls of plasma into their twisted places of worship. They never learned. And neither did he.

Alcor couldn’t stand how many people had to die because of him. How many people were killed in his name. How many lives he’d taken with his own hands because he couldn’t seem to stop, like an immature brat who throws tantrums when things don’t go his way. He wondered if he could ever change, or if he was just stuck this way.

It was deep in these thoughts that the demon heard a little noise. A squeak, barely audible over the rain. He dismissed it at first, because his grand thoughts were more important than the world around him, and right after a bad summons was the perfect time for self-hatred. It felt good -- it was one of the only things that still did. He considered burning the entire city to the ground. Maybe that’d feel even better.

Something told him that it wouldn’t.

He heard the squeak again, his eyes darting over to a heap of trash bags between two buildings, and that’s when he saw him. A little boy with golden hair, no older than six. He was dressed in rags. He looked like he hadn’t seen a scrap of food in days. The left side of his face had been eaten away by flame, leaving it patchy and discolored.

Alcor had seen right through Bill’s disguise, of course. There wasn’t a meatsuit pitiable enough to blot out the sins his soul had committed. Perhaps that was why he had been abandoned on the side of the street to begin with -- karma was finally catching up with him. Alcor wanted to laugh, but he couldn’t. Something strange was going on inside of him. Some sort of instinct buried within him -- not one tipped with blood and claws, but one that creaked and groaned under centuries of exertion.

It was this feeling that prompted him to gather up the child in his arms. He felt how fast the boy’s heart was beating; saw in his past how much he’d been hurt without an adult to protect him. He knew that feeling well.

“It’s okay,” he murmured as Toby began to fuss. “Things will be better now. I’ll protect you. I might only be a child myself, but I promise I’ll protect you.”

One year later, one year of introspection, growth, and unbroken promises later, he had to admit he’d been wrong.

(AO3 link)

#gravity falls #transcendence au #dipper pines #alcor the dreambender #toby pines #tobias pines #fic #my stuff

[nataliedanovelist]

C-137 Vs. 46'\

C-137 Vs. 46'\ = A Gravity Falls & Rick and Morty crossover fic for @stephreynaart! I meant to finish this, like, forever ago, but I did my best and decided this has stayed hidden in my files long enough. I hope y’all enjoy it!

Stanchez for life!!!

~~~~~~~~~~

Episode Placement: GF = after the finale (season 3) R&M = Between S1E10 and E11 (In S2E2, Rick dates 1/12/2015 on the drop-off papers for Jerry. Though Alex hates dating cartoons, it can be estimated that GF took place during 2013 thanks to Sev'ral Timez, so the next summer would be 2014. So… yeah. I put way too much thought into this.)

The vast galaxy in front of them was an endless sea of stars and space-clouds of many different colors. Some were green, some were blue, some were magenta, it honestly looked like a generic Hot Topic galaxy t-shirt.

But Rick didn’t give a shit about some fucking space-clouds or some fucking shop for teenagers who were trying too hard to be goth. Rick didn’t give a shit about the fact that Morty barely knew how to drive the fucking spaceship. Rick only have a shit about getting away from the other fucking spaceships that were after the humans, but he couldn’t drive because Rick had to repair the fucking weapon to kill those fucking bastards. Fuck.

“Aw, geez, Rick, hurry it up!” Morty yelled.

“Don’t tell me how to do my job, Morty!” Rick snapped back as he tinkered with the huge ray-gun that laid by his feet.

The spacecraft jolted to the side as a beam just barely missed it. Rick caught his screwdriver as it flew in the air for a second and he finished the final turn. Rick grinned maliciously and aimed the newest invention out at the enemy. He pulled the trigger and rather than a beam of light or a bullet escaping the gun, it appeared that nothing happened, until each spaceship seemed to be covered with blood and guts from the inside, covering the windows and halting the enemies’ spaceships.

“Oh my God, Rick, what the hell?!” Morty screamed.

“Relax, Morty, you’ve seen worse. It’s just a gun that released microscopic ninjas that slice people up from the inside until they’re nothing b-b-but guts.” Rick burped through the alcohol and leaned on the big gun proudly with a monotone voice and facial expression.

“No, Rick, what the hell IS THAT?!”

Rick looked ahead to see a wormhole of pink, blues, and whites glowing brightly in front of them. Morty was trying to turn the spaceship away, but they were being pulled in by gravity.

“Well, fuck.”

~~~~~~~~~~

Mabel was bouncing like she had springs on the bottoms of her shoes as she held her Grunkle Ford’s hand. They were both wearing ponchos and on their way to the magical part of the forest. Mabel, Dipper, Stan, and Ford had only been back in Gravity Falls for two days and Ford wanted to start off this summer right by bonding with his favorite grandniece in the Multiverse.

Ford felt guilty of the little time they had spent together the previous summer. True, he had arrived home a little late in the season, but he had spent plenty of time bonding with Dipper, leaving not nearly enough for Mabel. Ford loved her very much, but with Dipper things were more predictable. The boy was a lot like him, so Ford knew what to expect and how to bond with him, like playing Dungeons, Dungeons, and More Dungeons or working or investigating an anomaly together. Ford had no clue what twelve… thirteen-year-old girls liked and Mabel’s overwhelming flood of love and affection had startled Ford like an old alley-cat.

Still, he admired her positivity and loved to do arts-and-crafts with her. They had captured time last summer for her to make a beautiful hand-turkey on Ford’s six-fingered hand; she had said that the extra feather made it special. The old scientist had no idea what he had done to deserve Mabel… no, he didn’t deserve Mabel, but she seemed to like him, so he owed her some alone-time. Mabel seemed to like the supernatural almost as much as Dipper (Dipper took a more serious approach to it while Mabel seemed to accept everything with loving arms), so Ford offered to take her out to the magical part of the forest over breakfast and Mabel nearly choked on her Stan-cake out of pure joy.

Now, as the morning sun rose and was nearly above their heads, after about an hour of traveling and quietly talking, they were starting to reach the magical part of the forest.

“So, why do we need ponchos, Grunkle Ford?” Mabel asked as she used her free-hand to play with the yellow hood that was over her beautiful brown hair.

“Because the fairies we’re going to investigate are… rather messy.” Ford landed on. The Barf Fairies used to turn his stomach, but after traveling through dimensions for over thirty years, Ford’s stomach had hardened and since Mabel also seemed to have a strong gag-reflex, he decided that he would try to learn more about the less-than-pleasant type of fairies. “I would hate for them to ruin a Mabel Pines original.” Ford added with a smile down at the young teenager.

Mabel grinned braces-free (she had them removed back in February) up at the old scientist, loving it when he called one of her sweaters a Mabel Pines original, and her eyes twinkled when she saw the blue sweater through Ford’s poncho, the one she had made for him with a golden six-fingered hand on the front, like his old journals. “So, these are…”

“Barf Fairies.”

“Right. What do you already know about them?”

“Only that we should avoid whatever they eat.”

Mabel laughed along with him and said, “Okay. Well… I’ve actually never talked to or met a fairy before, so looks like we’re both starting from square-one. Did you meet any fairies out in the Multiverse?”

“Yes, but they were very different than the one here in Gravity Falls. I once landed in a dimension where the seasons changing was caused by the fairies, and in another dimension I met a giant fairy-queen that looked more like a slug with wings covered in glitter.”

Mabel opened her mouth to contribute to the conversation, but they both heard a noise and stopped walking in the woods. The sound had made them think of clanking metal and yells. They looked up and around at the trees, but a little puff of smoke confirmed that they had heard some sort of machine.

“What was that?” Mabel asked quietly.

“I’m not sure.” Ford said honestly and started to walk them to a clearing.

The two Pines left the cluster of pinetrees so they could look around the skies more clearly. It was a beautiful cloudless early-summer day. As they looked up at the heavens above, a flying-disk of a spaceship was whizzing over their heads, having trouble staying up in the air. Ford held Mabel close in fear of it crashing down near them, but the spaceship staggered over the woods and crashed landed from a safe distance.

“Aliens!” Mabel gasped. “Dipper told me about the one under the town! Do you think this is like that one?”

Ford, whose mind was racing, shook his head to try to think straight, and he said, “No, I… I think I know what it is, but… Mabel, I’m afraid the Barf Fairies are going to have to wait.”

Mabel peeled off her poncho and shook her hair free, revealing her purple sweater with a heart and sunglasses on it that matched her red skirt and headband. Ford also took off his poncho, pocketed both of the big yellow articles of clothing in his trenchcoat, but then pulled out his gun. He opened his mouth to tell Mabel to stay close, but she already pulled out her grappling hook and was standing behind Ford, waiting for him to lead the way.

Ford crept back into the woods with Mabel behind him. He had a good idea of what had crashed into Gravity Falls, but he had hoped that he was wrong. He didn’t want Mabel to meet him. Ford was hoping he would never show up in this dimension, but if he was still traveling around the Multiverse…

A low hissing noise from a busted engine told Ford and Mabel where to go. They only had to walk a minute before the spaceship came into view, landing in between two trees and leaving a trail of up-turned dirt in its path before coming to a halt. Ford and Mabel slowly moved towards the ship with their weapons in hand, but they found it unnecessary as a boy stumbled out and coughed into a fist, on his hands and knees and ruffled from the crash.

“Oh geez, oh man, we’re dead. We’re dead. We survived, but we’re dead.” The boy moaned as he slowly stood up. He looked about Mabel’s age, had short brown hair, and wore jeans and a yellow t-shirt with white sneakers.

Mabel pocketed her grappling hook while Ford let his arms fall to his side, but he kept the weapon in hand, just in case. “Huh. That was… not what I was expecting.” Ford said, more to himself than to Mabel.

Mabel stepped forward with her hands up kindly and she cleared her throat, gaining the boy’s attention. He blinked at the two humans and Mabel said in a soft voice, “Uh, hi, I’m Mabel. Are you hurt?”

“What?” The boy asked. He seemed jittery from the crash, his eyes darting and his forehead glistening with sweat. “Uh, n-no. No, I’m fine. I’m…”

“MORTY!”

The boy groaned and squeezed his eyes shut as he tilted his head upward. “Yup, that’s my name. Morty.”

An older man in a white lab-coat with blue-white hair stumbled out of the spaceship, and not out of drunkenness for a change. “Morty, you little…”

“Sanchez.” Ford growled and covered Mable’s ears. He knew this guy had a foul tongue, and while Ford and his brother might have sailors’ mouths, at least he and Stan knew to censor themselves around the kids. Ford’s old friend didn’t.

The old man in the lab-coat looked at Ford and his eyes widened in shock before he grinned. “Oh, no way! Good to see you again, Fordsie!” He laughed, amused by the scenario in front of him. “Great, another genius. Mind giving me a hand with this piece of… erm, crap?”

Ford groaned and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Fine, the sooner I can get you out of my home dimension, the better.”

The man Grunkle Ford had called Sanchez appeared shocked again and he dug around his coat. “Wait, wait, wait. Your home dimension?” Sanchez pulled out a white flat gun with a green bulb on top and he seemed to be reading off a tiny screen. “Huh. Dimension 46’\. This one’s way out of the loop. There’s no way I could’ve gotten you home with this thing. How did you manage to pull that off?”

“Long story.” Ford said and pocketed his hand in his trenchcoat.

“Grunkle Ford,” Mabel piped and smiled up at the visitor. “Who’s this?”

Ford looked down at his niece and decided to share this piece of his thirty-year-long journey in the Multiverse with her. “Sweetie, this is my old acquaintance, Rick Sanchez. Rick, this is my great-niece, my brother Sherman’s granddaughter, Mabel.”

“Oh, hey, nice to meet you, little lady.” Rick said with a small smile and then jabbed a thumb back at Morty. “That little screw-up is my grandson, Morty.”

“Oh, yeah, like you could do any better, Rick.” Morty huffed with crossed-arms over his thin chest.

“I could do better, Morty,” Rick said and rounded on his grandson. “You know what else I can do? I can also leave you behind on Asteroid 3924987, but I won’t. I can also feed you to a five-headed mega-bird from Bird-Person’s homeworld, but I won’t. I can also send you to the citadel and trade you in for a new Morty, but I won’t, as long as you quit being a pain in the ass.”

“Rick, please!” Ford hissed.

“It’s okay, Grunkle Ford, I heard worse when I went to get a snack and Stan was watching football.” Mabel giggled, remembering the other night when Stan’s team was losing and he let out a long stream of colorful swears that made him turn red when he realized Mabel had heard him.

“Of course you have.” Ford groaned and shook his head. “Well, let’s see what the damage is, Sanchez. What caused the crash? Did your micro-verse battery finally start a rebellion?”

“No, because they know if they do, I’ll get a new battery, Genius. When we came to this dimension through a wormhole we hit a mountain side and a part broke off here…”

The two old men examined the spacecraft and were discussing ways to fix it, meanwhile Morty walked up to Mabel and rubbed an arm nervously. “So, uh… I guess they met out in the Multiverse, huh?”

Mabel nodded; she didn’t know how these two old men knew each other or why these two humans were in a spaceship, but based on context clues, Morty’s guess made the most sense. “Wait, so you two are from another dimension?”

“Yeah, pretty much.” Morty said with a shrug. “This is 46'\, right? My dimension is C-137.”

“Wow, cool!” Mabel said with shining eyes that threw Morty for a loop. “So, what’s different over there? Was Benjamin Franklin a man and never accomplished anything? Are dinosaurs still alive? Oo! I bet your sky is lavender-purple all the time, right?!”

Morty laughed a little and rubbed his arm again. “Uh, no. It’s, I think, pretty much the same as yours. My Grandpa Rick says there’s an infinite number of realities that are just slightly different from one another. M-M-Maybe the difference between C-137 and 46'\ is so small and unimportant it’s not obvious.”

“Oh, okay,” Mabel peered over to watch Rick and Ford work together for a little bit and then she smiled back at Morty. “So, do you always go on adventures with your Grandpa Rick?”

Morty sighed in a shaky puberty-voice and nodded. “Yeah, he’s always making me go on these stupid adventures with him.”

“What?” Mabel gasped with a smile. “They’re not stupid! I’d love to go to a different dimension with my Grunkle Ford! I’ve already been on one with him and Grunkle Stan when they had to rescue me from Dimension Mab3L. The other mes were a little self-centered, but it was a lot of fun to punch myself in the face and rescue my great-uncles.”

“Yeah, but from the sounds of it, your - what did you say, Grunkle Ford? - is nice to you.” Morty pointed out. “My Grandpa Rick treats me like garbage all the time, but then again he treats everyone like garbage, so at least he’s only signaling me out to stay hidden from the Federation or whatever.”

“Oh.” Mabel said quietly and held her hands behind her back bashfully, unsure of how to respond, but she decided to try to make Morty feel better. “Well, my other great-uncle, Grunkle Stan, is a little tough sometimes, but that’s only because he cares about his family and is toughening us up for a tougher world. He’s my hero!”

“That sounds nice.” Morty said with a small smile. He didn’t think Rick cared about his family like this Stan guy, but Morty wasn’t in the mood to kill Mabel’s optimism. “I like your sweater, by the way.”

“Thanks!” Mabel grinned proudly. “I made it!”

Morty’s eyes widened. “Wow, really?” Mabel held out her arm so Morty could feel her sleeve. “Oh my God, that’s amazing! You’re really talented.”

“Hey, thanks! If you want, I can make you one!”

“R-R-Really? You’d do that for me?”

“Sure! What’s your favorite color?”

“Uh… y-yellow.”

“Got it!”

Ford and Rick walked up to the teenagers and the six-fingered researcher said, “Well, I’m afraid the ship lost a part we need, but luckily I have the materials we need to build one in the lab back home.”

“Great!” Mabel said and grinned. “Let’s go! So, how did you two meet, anyway?”

Ford and Mabel led the way with Rick and Morty closely behind. “We met about twenty years ago in a high-security prison. I remember feeling relieved to see another human. I had been without human contact for a little under two years at the time since I had been stranded on some desert planet.”

“Yeah, this nerd got into big trouble for the extinction of a few million species on Planet 8824816.”

“What?!” Mabel gasped and looked up at her great-uncle, unable to believe that he would cause such mass genocide. “Grunkle Ford, you didn’t?!”

“Of course I didn’t, Mabel.” Ford quickly reassured his niece. “That was the planet I thought was a sandwich. Anyway, at least I didn’t do what Rick was in for…”

“What did he do?”

“I purposely caused mass genocide on Sector 56, Dimension “”113.” Rick said in a scaringly monotone voice.

“What?!”

“Rick!” Ford and Morty both scolded at the same time.

“Hey, it was either me or the Valakawns!” Rick snapped back. “Those bloodsucking leeches didn’t see what hit them, until the Federation caught me hanging from a tree upside-down, passed out and drunk.”

“Alright, enough!” Ford said firmly. “Let’s just build the part we need so we can get you two back to your home dimension. And, Mabel, once they’re gone we’re going to patch the wormhole with alien adhesive.”

“Okay. Last thing we want is for Dipper to get stuck in Dimension Dipp-3R or something.”

“Who’s Dipper?” Morty asked quietly.

“My twin brother!”

“Oh, cool! I don’t have a twin, but I have met multiple versions of myself.”

“Hey, me too! I’ve met Table-Mabel, Explainble, Threebel, Military-Expert-Mabel, Brainbel, T-Rex-Mabel, Fire-Mabel, and even Anti-Mabel!”

“I’ve met an Evil-Morty with one eye-patch who worked for the worst Rick in the Multiverse. I’ve also… Well, let’s just say I’ve met a lot of mes.”

The two teenagers talked while the two old men chatted on ways to fix the ship as they got closer to the Mystery Shack. Rick looked up and down the place and then snorted, amused. “Huh. Not the kind of place I’d expect from Mr. Stick-In-The-Mud over here.”

“My brother had to make some… changes in order to pay off the mortgage.” Ford explained and led the way to the back door. He opened it and said, “My lab is downstairs behind the vending machine in the gift shop. I believe Soos is giving a tour, so it should be safe to enter.”

“Gift shop?” Rick laughed and poked Ford’s shoulder. “When did you get so soft?”

“I am not< soft.” Ford said dignified.

“You’re wearing a blue sweater with a gold six-fingered hand.”

“My niece made it for me!” Ford said proudly and puffed out his chest.

Mabel rolled her eyes with blushing chubby cheeks and a smile and decided to let the old guys fight. She took Morty’s hand and said, “Come on! I’ll show you my room! I have a huge sticker collection you’ll love!”

“Oh, okay!” Morty said and allowed her to drag her up to the attic; it was nice being dragged to something nice and safe rather than some new monster of a different dimension.

“But hey, you turned your lab into a gift shop.” Rick was saying while the teenagers did their own thing. “Least you’re making a profit.” Ford wasn’t sure if Rick was being sincere or not.

“Actually, it’s all my brother’s.” Ford said and waved the subject away. “We’re getting off track. Let's just get you and your grandson out of my dimension.”

“Geez, you used to be way more fun.” Rick said with sagged shoulders. “What happened to the guy who ranked up million on Lottocron Nine and got tattoos with octopus-armed piglets? What happened to the interdimensional criminal who once shot fifty Bureaucrats to save a fellow scientist’s ass?”

“He discovered what was most important, Sanchez.” Ford growled with his arms crossed over his chest.

“Oh, HO!” A voice laughed as he shook his head and left the kitchen. “I know this guy isn’t talking about Mr. Goody-Nerds-Shoes!”

Ford pinched the bridge of his nose. The last thing he wanted was for his twin and his old friend to meet, but it seemed like some greater being(s) really wanted this to happen, so here we go.

Rick grinned at the sight of a conman in his suit and fez, with a can in his hand, instantly giving Rick the vibe that this guy couldn’t be trusted but would be a hit at parties and wasn’t a total snitch. “Now THIS is what I’m talking about! Name’s Rick, Ford Two.”

Stan barked a laugh and shook his hand. “The name’s Stan, Genius. And please for the love of Moses you weren’t just talking about my brother?”

“Are you kidding, this guy was a total badass!” Rick jabbed a thumb back at the fuming scientist. “He was a total idiot, had no clue how the Multiverse worked, but he was always willing to barrel into whatever crap was out there and destroy some shit!”

“Okay, you and I need to talk.” Stan tossed him the can of soda and went into the kitchen to get some snacks. “I wanna hear more about what kind of crazy violent nomad Ford was back in the day!”

“You got it! Just tell me how the hell he ended up with a cool twin? What, did you inherit all the fun traits leaving him with hobbies like collecting alien stamps?”

Stan barked a laugh and was back, looping an arm around his skinny neck. “I love this guy! Now, please tell me you were there when he got his stupid tattoo.”

“Stanley,” Ford scolded. “We’re supposed to be working on building the part he needs so he can go home. Rick and his grandson are stranded here…”

“Please, I can make that piece of shit from scratch in my sleep.” Rick said. “And Morty’s fine. That niece of yours will keep his small brain entertained for hours.” He turned to Stan and asked, “You got any booze, we had a rough crash here and I need a drink.”

“I got a secret stash in my room,” Stan muttered. “I don’t like drinking with the kids here, but I guess you can have a shot of whisky to relax. Want some soda?”

“Sure, why not. There’s a bit in my flask to last.”

And the old men walked away for the ‘Employees Only’ part of the house, leaving Ford to grit his teeth in annoyance and then bite his lip in discomfort. This could only end one way and he was not looking forward to it.

To be continued...

#gravity falls #rick and morty #stanchez #gift #fanfiction

[imnotoverlyobsessive]

Looks Like Someone Picked a Whoke Bushel of Oopsie Daisies

Chapter Seven: On the Subject of Falling (part one)

Yes indeedy, I had to break it up into more than one part because this is like 5.6k words here so please forgive me my vices. Anyway. Get a change of underwear ready. It’s gonna get hot. Thank you to @edward-or-ford, as always!

I feel you crawling out my veins, leaving the walls inside with flames, burning the emptiness I’ve saved, until only you remain. And then my lungs collapsed and you pulled me out, forever I have changed. Honey, you can take me now till it all runs out; baby, it’s okay. - Cartel, Only You

Mabel had imagined so many scenarios for her and Dipper’s first kiss that she couldn’t have counted, named, or described them all if her life depended on it.

Her fantasies had never been reasonable. Why be reasonable when imagining something you felt sure was impossible?

But Mabel had been wrong. It wasn’t impossible, because Dipper was kissing her in the softest, sweetest way she ever could’ve dreamed up, cradling her cheek so gently she might have been made of porcelain.

He pulled an inch or two away from her, rubbing his nose against hers affectionately.

“That was… nice,” she said quietly.

He smiled in agreement. “Was that your first kiss?”

Blushing, she nodded. “W- was it yours, too?”

“Of course,” he stroked her cheek with his thumb. “I’ve known you were my soulmate since before girls would’ve ever considered kissing me, and even before I knew, I definitely wasn’t interested in anybody else.”

“Oh,” she was somewhat lost for words.

“Yeah. So…” he trailed off.

“So…?”

“So, maybe we could try kissing again?” he asked hopefully.

“Okay,” she agreed, squashing down her nervousness.

When his lips touched hers again, there was something different. Something had changed, but she didn’t know what. He just felt so warm and so good, and she wanted -no, she needed- more of him. She wanted to wrap her legs around him and bury her hands in his hair and just- just fucking maul him.

Pressing her body against his instinctively, she hooked her arms around his neck, pulling him closer to her. Moving her lips against his (did people usually learn so fast? Mabel didn’t know, and she was fresh out of fucks to give about it), she tilted her head and opened her mouth slightly, and then his tongue touched hers. She gripped his hair lightly, putting his hand on the small of her back and pulled her against him, and she moaned quietly.

Well. She most certainly had not been expecting that. Nor had she been expecting to feel what must have been Dipper’s erection so quickly. They’d barely kissed at all, and homeboy already felt hard as a rock.

Pulling away slightly, Mabel coughed awkwardly. “So, uh… what’s up with, y’know. That?” She gestured in the general direction of his crotch.

He looked at her dazedly for a moment before the question clicked in his head. “Oh! Yeah, um… sorry, it just kinda… happens sometimes, like when I’m really happy, or when I think about you too much or look at you for too long or… do anything involving you at all, really.”

“R-really?” When he nodded, she examined his expression. “So it happens a lot, then?”

“Yeah, it does. Sorry about that, I can’t really control it most of the time.”

Mabel blushed and looked down. “Well, I mean… I don’t really, y’know… mind it…”

“You don’t?” He sounded very surprised and it probably showed on his face, but she was way too embarrassed by how much she liked the fact that the mere thought or sight of her turned him on to actually look at him, so she didn’t look up.

“No, I don’t.”

“Oh. Okay then.” After a few seconds, he spoke again. “So, can we maybe make out or something?”

Oh. Right. He wanted her, didn’t he? How could she have forgotten that? Pressing herself back against him, she pulled him down to kiss him again, this time with all the pent of desperation she’d felt towards him for years.

He froze for a few seconds, and then he buried his hand in her hair and yanked her tighter against him, kissing her with just as much desperation. His tongue found hers again, and her need for him was increasing higher and higher, and she was burning, burning, burning, all for Dipper, she was gonna burst into flames from how badly she needed him, she was sure of it. Had she always needed him this badly? If he’d kissed her sooner, would this have happened then, too? All she could think was more, yes, Dipper, more. She let out a needy moan as he pulled his lips away from hers and trailed them across her jawline and down her throat, where he began to suck on her pulse point. She gasped, clutching at the back of his jacket.

He slid a hand under the hem of her shirt, yanking it away when he felt his cold her skin was. “You’re freezing,” he observed. “I… I’m so sorry I didn’t notice.”

“Oh, um. It’s okay, I didn’t really notice either,” she laughed awkwardly, tucking a lock of hair behind her ear and looking briefly at her feet before turning her gaze back up to him. “But… maybe you could keep me warm,” she said softly, then backpedaled, embarrassed at her boldness. “I mean, only if you want to, you obviously don’t have to, and I don’t mean to, like, make assumptions or anything-“

“Mabel,” he cut her off, kissing her briefly. “Of course I want you. How could I not?”

She shrugged, blushing furiously. “I… I dunno, I guess I figured you might not…”

He shook his head and took her hand, guiding it to the front of his jeans. “Feel.”

“Y-yup, sure do feel that right there,” she stuttered.

“I always want you,” he said quietly, pressing his lips to hers again and reaching around to grip her ass. “Fuck, you… you drive me insane, you know that? One day you’ll dress all cute and the next you’ll dress like you’re actively trying to seduce me.”

“Oh. Um. Sorry?” Her voice was squeaking far more than she would’ve liked, that was for sure. Oh well. Nothing could’ve been done about it anyway.

He nodded, a serious expression on his face as he squeezed her. “Even really basic stuff like these jeans. They’re so tight they’re like a second skin, and every time I see you wearing, well, anything really, all I want is to rip it off you. It’s been really, really difficult to keep myself from touching you.”

“I’ve been wanting to touch you, too,” she whispered.

He squeezed her again, and she whimpered at the sensation before he kissed her. Pulling away from her after a moment, he took her hand and led her towards his car.

“Where are we going?”

“To warm you up,” he said over his shoulder, a mischievous smile on his face.

A few moments later, they were buckled into their respective seats, and Dipper was putting the car in drive. Mabel waited approximately thirty seconds before she couldn’t take it anymore and needed to touch him again. She was losing her mind. In fact, her mind seemed to have vacated the premises entirely. How could she be expected to think when he wasn’t touching her, when she couldn’t feel his skin against hers? It simply wouldn’t do. Her body felt achey and strange in a way she didn’t really recognize, but she could tell, at the very least, that she was experiencing some extreme form of sexual arousal. She needed him inside her. Like, pronto. Stat. Immediately. Why wasn’t he inside her yet? She suddenly couldn’t remember, and all she cared about was convincing him to pull over and rip her clothes off.

She was hurt and aroused at the same time, which was a very weird combination, but she felt something twist in her chest. Didn’t he want her? He’d said he wanted her, so why hadn’t he pulled the car over and fucked her senseless?

Well. She’d just have to seduce him then, wouldn’t she?

Thankfully, the armrest console in Dipper’s car was quite small, so there wasn’t a whole lot of space between their seats, and as such, when Mabel leaned over and started kissing his neck and trailing her hand into his lap, she had no difficulty doing so.

“Mabel,” he said stiffly, keeping his eyes firmly on the road. “What are you doing?”

“I want you,” she told him, reaching down to stroke him through his jeans.

“I- I know,” he stuttered. “I want you too, but I need you to wait. It’ll be just another couple of minutes.”

She shook her head and sucked on his neck. “I want you now.”

They stopped at a red light, and Mabel had undone her jeans, grabbed his hand and put it between her legs.

“Do you feel how wet I am? Do you feel how bad I need you?” She asked, grinding against his fingers. He pulled them away and wiped them on his jeans, starting the car again as the light changed. “Please,” she begged, starting to tear up. “I need you, Dipper,” she was whimpering, desperate for him, and her thought processing had all but ceased completely. “Please fuck me,” she begged again, kissing his neck as the tears trickled down her cheeks, and he nearly swerved off the road.

“Okay,” he said, shooing her away with a wave of his hand. “I really want you, too, which is why we need to get to the motel, and I will definitely kill us if you pull something like that again, so you’re banished to your seat until we get there in approximately a minute and a half,” he took a deep breath before continuing, which may very well have been more to distract himself than anything else. “I know in my mind that your… behavior is normal. It’s just kind of a thing that happens in these types of situations, y’know? I can preoccupy myself with driving, but you’re just kinda stuck with nothing but what you’re feeling, so try to… try to distract yourself, maybe?”

“Motel?”

“Yeah, the one Mom and Dad boomed a room at for the whole stay, remember?” he reminded her. “They haven’t been staying there since the first night or two. That was definitely to keep an eye on me, by the way,” he looked at her out of the corner of his eye. “They suspected something, I guess. Didn’t wanna risk me trying to get you alone.”

“Oh,” she was surprised, and the gears in her brain were struggling to turn so she could process his words. “So… they know you know we’re soulmates?”

“Hm, maybe,” he said thoughtfully. “I think they’re more suspicious than anything else, honestly,” he paused for a moment before continuing. “In any case, stay in your seat.”

She pouted the rest of the way, and by the time they pulled into the motel parking lot, they were both just about ready to explode, and as soon as they were parked, they practically sprinted in the direction of their room (thank god the doors were outside and not inside), Dipper fumbling with the key card while Mabel started kissing whatever parts of him she could reach without the equality brought on by sitting down, which was namely his arms and chest, and she was finally getting to grab his butt (and she was fairly sure it was the most long-awaited butt grab in the history of butt grabs, so she was entirely convinced that any amount of happiness that it caused was perfectly reasonable).

They stumbled into the room, Dipper locking the door absentmindedly, and he leaned down to kiss her, but she just edged him towards the bed, and her purse and jacket fell from his hands to the floor (side note, but when had he grabbed those? She hadn’t even noticed. Fuck, he was so sweet and thoughtful and she loved him so goddamn much), and he sat on the bed, although it was really more of a fall than anything else, and Mabel immediately proceeded to climb on top of him.

Dipper buried his hand in Mabel’s hair and ground his hips up into hers. Her legs were on either side of him, and when she moved herself against him, he let out the most adorable little whimper (though she got the sense he’d never own up to it in a million years).

Her lips hovered over his, and she wanted more than anything to kiss him again, so she did. He reached around her back and- well hello there, Dipper’s hands, never felt you on the ol’ booty before. But there they were, his fingertips digging into the flesh as he gripped her, encouraging her to move against him.

He kissed her neck, sucking at it wetly, and in any other circumstance she’d object, but in that moment, all she could think was, yes, yes, I’m yours, mark me up, mark me, I’m yours, oh Dipper yes just like that-

Gasping and moving her hips faster, more firmly, he moaned against her lips, palming her breast through her clothes before stopping abruptly and pulling away.

When Mabel groaned at the loss, he looked at her guiltily. “Sorry, I, well. I’ve never done this before and I’m afraid I’ll rush you or hurt you or something.”

She blinked at him, the gears in her mind struggling to turn as she attempted to force herself from her arousal-induced haze enough to form a coherent sentence.

“I’ve never done this before, either, and I know you won’t hurt me.”

“B-but do you, y’know. Want to?” he sputtered out. “With me, I mean?”

“No, I want it with Gideon,” she said sarcastically. “Of course I want it with you, ya dumb-dumb. Did you totally miss how into it I’ve been or something? Or maybe you forgot about the whole soulmate thing and how inevitable it is that we get super duper hot for each other?”

Dipper blushed and looked down for a moment before looking back up at her. His gaze was intense and burning like there was a volcano inside him that could erupt at any moment. “If we do this... his whisper trailed off as he stroked her cheek, “if we do this, you’ll be mine, y’know.” Mabel blushes furiously. She’d be his. “There‘ll never be anyone else. Just... just me. Are you sure that’s what you want?”

“Why in the hell would I ever want anyone else?” she demanded.

He grinned. “Can I kiss you again?”

She smiled adoringly at him. God, what a relief it was not to have to hide her feelings for him! “Well, get on with it,” she said with a grin.

He attacked her again, his lips and pelvis connecting to hers. “Fuck,” he gasped out as he thrust himself against her.

Her hair was a curtain around them, and she didn’t really notice when it happened but their shirts fell to the carpeted hotel floor, and so did her skirt, and yup, those appeared to be her leggings on the floor, too. When did all that happen? Mabel wasn’t sure, but she certainly had no complaints.

Especially not when Dipper was running his hands up and down her sides, warmth seeping into her skin, and kissing her like the planet was gonna explode in the next ten seconds. She hadn’t kissed anyone before Dipper, but she’d never imagined it would be quite so... hungry. She’d assumed kissing would be soft and sweet. The first few had been, sure, but this one? This one was like he was starving, like it’d been years since his last meal and she was the only thing saving him from certain death.

And it felt good. She would happily go to the ends of the earth as long as he kept kissing her like that. As long as he didn’t stop touching her.

If kissing Mabel felt, for Dipper, like a starving man eating for the first time in years, then kissing Dipper felt to Mabel as if she’d been lost all her life; that everything had been so incredibly, irrevocably wrong until that very moment, and that finally, after a lifetime of emptiness, everything was right with the world in a way she’d never known was possible.

Kissing Dipper felt right. It felt like home. The scent of his hair and his blunt fingernails scraping against her scalp and his gasps and groans and pleas and whispers, especially the ones he tried to hide- they all felt like home. It occurred to her then that Dipper -her soulmate- was her home in a way nothing else was or ever could be.

And so she kissed him back with a ferocity that might’ve scared them both under different circumstances. But it didn’t. In fact, it seemed appropriate. They were finally, finally together, and Mabel didn’t feel the slightest hint of her airway swelling closed the way their parents had said it would if they touched. In fact, Mabel was fairly certain she’d lose breathing capabilities if they stopped touching.

Why else would she only be able to inhale if their lips were pressed together? She ground her hips into his again.

“M-Mabel,” he gasped out. She didn’t respond verbally, just hummed against his neck and went back to kissing it, continuing to move her hips back and forth. He felt so good against her. When was the last time she’d been so wet? She couldn’t remember.

“Mabel,” he said again, putting his hands on her hips to still her. She pulled back, eyes hazy and face flushed. “If you keep doing that, this is, uh,” he coughed and looked away, his face furiously red, “this is gonna be over really quickly.”

She stared at him uncomprehendingly for a few seconds before her eyebrows shot up in understanding. “Oh! G-gotcha. My bad,” she laughed awkwardly, smoothing down her hair nervously.

“But, I mean. That doesn’t mean I don’t wanna, y’know. Keep going... “ he trailed off before quickly amending his statement. “If you want to, that is.”

She blinked. “I literally told you I wanted you earlier. It was, like, five seconds ago.”

Dipper looked dubiously at his wristwatch. “Actually it was-“

“Yeah, no one cares. Just kiss me again, nerd.”

He smiled and complied, kissing her hungrily, desperately. She buried a hand in his hair, moving her pelvis against his erection again, her panties embarrassingly wet as she moaned quietly.

“Dipper,” she whimpered. “Dipper, please.”

He gasped when she ground down particularly roughly against him, barely aware of anything but Mabel.

“Huh? Wh-what is it?” he managed to stutter out.

“I need it,” she told him desperately. “I need you,” she rubbed herself against him pointedly.

“God, Mabes,” he moaned as she kept moving her hips back and forth. “Fuck, anything. I’ll give you anything you want.”

Somewhere between bold and embarrassed, she buried her face in his neck. “I want you,” she reiterated, then reached down to stroke him through his boxers. “I want your cock,” she whispered. “I want it inside me,” he groaned again, quieter this time. “Make love to me, Dipper. Please.”

“Anything you want,” he told her again, gently removing her from his lap. Each made remarkably quick work of their remaining undergarments.

Dipper couldn’t seem to decide if he wanted to look at Mabel’s breasts or vagina (which she was incredibly relieved she had shaven), but Mabel’s eyes were fixed on his erection.

It was... larger than she was expecting. He was kinda tall, but he was also really skinny, so... But then, those didn’t really have a whole lot of correlation with size, did they? Mabel didn’t know. She also didn’t know how he was expected to shove that thing up inside her. Her body was screaming yes yes yes put it in put in right now holy fucking hell I need that inside me right now, but her brain was very skeptical.

Her body won out, though; every cell that she was made of was trying to force her to climb on top of him again and kiss the living daylights out of him.

Actually, what sounded rather good was... “I wanna suck it.”

“Wha-what?” he sputtered.

She looked up at him. “I wanna suck it,” she repeated. “I wanna taste you. I want you in my mouth.”

He ran a hand over his beet red face. “Fucking hell, Mabel. I mean, I... I want that, too,” he raked his gaze over her, his eyes settling on her lips. Was he imagining them wrapped around his cock? She hoped he was. “I really, really want that. But right now, I feel like if I don’t fuck your brains out, I’m gonna explode. And... not in a fun way, either.”

Actually, Mabel thought, that’s a pretty dope-ass idea right there. Laying down on the bed as quickly as she possibly could, she spread her legs open for him. “Then come here and fuck my brains out,” she challenged quietly.

He was on top of her in seconds, mouth practically attacking her, covering her with kisses on her neck and face and lips. She wrapped her arms around his neck, threading her fingers through the hair at the base of his skull.

Hooking her legs around him, she tried to guide his hips towards hers. She needed him more than she’d ever needed anything in her life. If he didn’t get inside her right then, she’d die. She was sure of it.

Fuck, would he get her pregnant? She hoped so. She wanted him to get her pregnant so fucking bad. She wanted him to fill her up with so much of his cum that it spilled out of her, and then she wanted him to fill her up again and again and again until she was pregnant with his child. Yes, fuck yes, Dipper’s child, god she wanted it so bad-

He stopped kissing her, wrenching himself away, she felt a rush of cold air as he did so, and an agonizing sense of loss. Why had he pulled away? Didn’t he want her? Why didn’t he want her?

And then he was rummaging through his jeans for his wallet, and pulled out a packet.

“A... a condom?” she said, propping herself up on her elbows.

“Yeah, I... I mean, we can’t have you getting pregnant.”

“No, don’t!” she sat up abruptly. “I’m on birth control anyway, but I wish to all hell I wasn’t because I really want you to get me pregnant!”

“Mabel...”

“Please, Dipper! You said you’d give me whatever I wanted! You promised!” she begged.

“Yeah, but... I mean... you don’t really want that, I don’t think...” he trailed off, fidgeting with the condom packet.

“Don’t you want to get me pregnant? I want you to fill me with your cum and put your baby inside me, and then I want you to fuck me again and again and again.” She knew she was being irrational. She couldn’t help it. She wanted to him to fuck a baby into her, dammit. “Don’t you want that, too?”

He groaned, turning his flushed face away from her. “Of course I do, Mabes. I desperately want that. And someday, I will, I promise I will, okay? I swear, but we can’t right now. Not yet.” He ripped open the condom wrapper and rolled it on. “I’m so sorry, I know you want it, and I’ll give you everything else, but I can’t give you that yet.”

“Soon, though?” She asked as he climbed back on top of her.

“Soon,” he agreed with a nod.

“Fine,” she conceded.

Satisfied for the time being, she pulled him in for a kiss.

“I love you,” he whispered against her lips.

“I love you, too,” she said with a smile. “Now please, Dipper. Please put it in me.”

He leaned his forehead against hers as he pressed the tip into her, one hand supporting himself and the other grasping her breast, pinching her nipple.

She gasped, and he stopped, pulling back to look at her. “You okay?” He ground out.

She nodded, eyes clenched shut. “Y-yeah. Just... go slow, please.”

#gravity falls fanfiction #gf fanfiction #gravity falls #pinecest #mabel pines #dipper pines #fanfiction #fanfic #looks like someone picked a whole bushel of oopsie daisies #my writing

[wendip-week]

What If: Love Potion

The annual Gravity Falls musical-event known as Woodstick had finally come. Tourists, young-and-old (but mostly young), repressed and/or rebellious, would flock to the Oregon town that wasn’t on any map to witness an all day-and-night concert of indie-bands in a hippie-themed get-together. One such band was led by the odd singer and aspiring matchmaker, Love God, who was busy spreading the love as he blew into town.

As Mabel Pines had discovered, the Cupid-motif wasn’t for show; he was a real-life cherub with a specially-made love-potion for greasing the wheels on promising-matches. Ignoring his warning that such a substance isn’t to be used by reckless pre-teens, Mabel Pines stole (or traded, if she were asked) his pink, powdery potion to salvage her attempt to hook up the recently-heartbroken Robbie Valentino and Wendy’s best friend Tambry, whose obsession with her phone seemed to interfere with her social-life in general.

Now it seemed that those two’s problems, and the ones they indirectly caused for the teen-gang they were part of, were over and done with. They were suddenly head-over-heels and apparently had no problems making a public show of their affection. Needless to say, Mabel was pleased with herself.

Not too long after the new couple stepped out of Greasy’s Diner, another familiar boy and girl appeared. The teenage-girl was sporting a hippie-ish look of short-shorts, a fuzzy crop-top, a bandana, and a headband. The preteen boy, on the other hand, was sporting a sleeveless jacket over a v-neck shirt (which Mabel thought was not a good look for him), with a pair of sunglasses. They were Dipper Pines and Wendy Corduroy, Mabel’s brother and friend, respectively. Mabel was still hiding behind the counter as the two approached.

“Hey, Susan,” Wendy greeted one of the diner’s senior-waitresses.

“Well hello, Wendy!” replied Lazy Susan, the waitress with the paralyzed eyelid. “My, don’t you two look snazzy!”

“Thanks,” said Dipper. “We’re going to Woodstick later.”

“How nice! So, what can I get you?”

“Can we get two large shakes to go, please?” Wendy asked. “Usual for us.”

“A chocolate-strawberry and a chocolate peanut-butter. Coming right up.” Susan headed towards the kitchen, ignoring one of the waitresses making out with a male-customer on the other side of the counter.

“Man, this is gonna be sick!” shouted Wendy.

“I know, right?” Dipper said with a grin. He looked over at the small crowd on the other side of the restaurant. “Hey, what’s that?”

Wendy turned her eyes in that direction. “Oh, cool. Looks like Love God made it here.”

“Huh,” Dipper thought out loud. “Looks kind of like Thompson, except louder and with blonde hair.”

Wendy laughed. “Oh-ho! You’re totally right! I’m so gonna remember that one!”

Dipper laughed along with her. It was moments like these that made him really admire her, even if she didn’t feel the same way… Mabel, who was watching them, thought the exchange was cute in an awkward way.

As they chatted, they didn’t notice another new couple spinning across the diner’s floor, only to fall on top of a table where a certain helping of chili-cheese fries lay almost untouched. The carton went flying… only to hit Dipper square in the face, leaving it a mess.

Wendy chuckled at her pal. “Dude, I guess lunch is on you…? Eh, that was lame. Mind if I…?” Wendy reached over and grabbed a few fries off of Dipper’s face before shoving them in her mouth. “Mmmm… Not as warm as I like, but still good.” She smiled at Dipper, only for her face to turn to mild-shock, her eyes widening and taking on a slight pinkish-tint for a moment.

Dipper wiped some of the food off of his face, licking some of it off his mouth. “You’re right about tha- Whoa!” Dipper’s eyes, too, had become like Wendy’s as he got a good look at the girl. He had always thought she was good-looking, but right now there was just something about her… “Uh, sorry if this sounds weird, but did you get a little more attractive all of a sudden?” he asked.

Wendy blushed. “Don’t know, but I’m glad that you think so. I will say this: you look really good in that v-neck.”

“Thanks, Wendy.” Dipper, too, was red in the face with that compliment.

They had been staring at each other for about half-a-minute when Lazy Susan returned with their milkshakes and a towel. They almost hadn’t noticed.

“Thanks, Susan.” Dipper wiped his faced with the damp cloth.

“No problem, dear. Anyway, have these shakes on the house. That little stunt with the fries didn’t need to happen.”

“Wow! Even bigger-thanks,” Wendy said. “Come on, Handsome. Let’s go to Woodstick.”

“Right now?” Dipper asked. “Shouldn’t we meet the guys first?”

“Nah! They won’t mind… probably. Let’s go.” She smiled warmly at the boy she wanted to squeeze like a stuffed-animal.

Well, how could Dipper say no to that face, especially as she batted her eyelashes? Dipper offered his arm, which she gladly took, and the new couple walked out of Greasy’s Diner (right after grabbing their shakes, of course).

Mabel almost couldn’t believe what she had witnessed. And honestly, she was beside herself with joy! She had mildly pro DipperxWendy when her brother first started crushing on the tall redhead and had offered encouragement or assistance here-and-there to help. Of course, her actions had also put the two of them in danger days ago, and inadvertently led to Dipper getting let down gently. This was an unexpected, but not unwelcome, turn of events. She had just delivered on two happy couples in a matter of minutes (and she thought she had outdone herself with Waddles and Gompers).

“Another match made!” Mabel shouted. “Yay, Domino-Effect!”

  //

  Well, Mabel might have been happy with these new developments. That didn’t mean everyone else necessarily agreed. Mabel found that out the hard way. She had just met Nate, Lee, and Thompson in the latter’s garage to let them know they could get going and told them the news about Robbie and Tambry. Their reactions were not what she had been expecting.

“He knew I liked her!” Nate shouted in dismay.

Lee, looking betrayed, confronted his best friend. “You told Robbie but not me?! Not cool!” He slapped Nate upside the head.

“You always make fun of my crushes!” Nate replied angrily.

“Guys! Come on!” Mabel said. “Can’t you just be happy for them? I haven’t even gotten to the other good news!”

“What?” Thompson reluctantly asked.

“My brother and Wendy just got together, too!”

Suddenly, Nate and Lee stopped bickering, looking at Mabel with interest.

“Dr. Funtimes is on a date… with Wendy… at Woodstick?” Lee asked.

“Yep!” Mabel grinned, pulling out a smartphone. “Check out Tambry’s blog. Apparently, both couples are official!”

For a moment everyone was silent. Then panic erupted.

“Oh, crud!” cried Nate.

“This is bad!” Lee shouted.

“What?! What’s going on?!” Mabel asked, now rather afraid.

“Manly Dan follows Tambry on Tweezer! That’s the problem!” Lee yelled.

“If he sees this, he’s going after your brother and his daughter. And he’ll tear apart anything and anyone that gets in his way,” Nate added. He looked at Lee. “Dude; my basement! Now! It’s got a low-ceiling. He’ll never be able to get to us.”

Lee nodded. “Got it. Come on, Thompson!”

“But guys, what about Woodstick?” the group’s punching-bag tried to reason. “I already bought tic-Whoa!” His two friends yanked him by the shirt and hurried out of his garage, leaving a freaked-out Mabel all by herself.

“Oh no…” she thought.

  //

  Dipper and Wendy stood in line for Woodstick for about an hour, but to them, it might as well have been five minutes. They were together, after all. And there was no shortage of cutesy, cliché acts that they could do to pass the time (Wendy was especially fond of Dipper walking his fingers up and down her arm). Once they got inside, they almost immediately had their lips locked and didn’t want to separate. They were like that even approaching one of the food trucks. Fortunately, the man taking their order could still make out the word “churro” amongst the face-sucking. They were also like that eating said churro.

“Oh, Dipper!” Wendy said between smooches. “I so regret ever rejecting you after the Bunker-Incident…! You’re nothing like any of the other guys I’ve dated!”

“Mmm… Wendy!” Dipper replied passionately. “There’s nothing I’ve ever wanted more than you! I’d even trade these adventures in Gravity Falls!”

“Dipper!”

“Wendy!”

Robbie and Tambry, who had been nearby, heard everything.

Robbie let out a low-whistle. “Smooth. Corny, but smooth.”

Tambry nodded. “Come on. Let’s leave them to their business. We’ve got selfies to take and people to make uncomfortable with our own overt-affection.”

“Sounds like a plan, babe.”

Robbie and Tambry blissfully walked off to be alone together. Mabel stuck her head out of a bush. She had no time to admire her handywork. She had to save Dipper and Wendy before they get killed. She pulled out a flask with a spray-attachment containing a black fluid. This was an anti-love potion: another something she had just procured from Love God. It would supposedly break the spell she had inadvertently put over those two.

“Just need a clear shot…” she whispered.

She didn’t get a chance. At that instance, she and everyone within a hundred feet of her, heard thunderous stomping and yelling, putting a number of attendees in a panic. Even Dipper and Wendy looked afraid as what could only be described as a tank of a man hailing from a long line of lumberjacks charged into the area in the direction of the couple Mabel was targeting.

“Oh, man! I’m too late…!” Mabel cried out.

Wendy’s father immediately spotted Dipper and Wendy and rushed over to them, and he looked ticked! People around him were smart enough to get out of his way.

“YOU TWO!!!” he shouted upon reaching them.

“Sir, please!” said a security guard who had been following at a reasonable distance. “You need to have a ticket to enter!” Dan didn’t even look at the man. He just picked him by the collar and threw him. He probably landed somewhere in the crowd surrounding the main stage.

The middle-aged giant growled and glared down at the two youths whom he towered over. Even Wendy, who was rather rebellious most of the time, was afraid. She didn’t see this side of father very often, and she tried hard not to.

“M-Mr. Corduroy-” Dipper tried to say.

“SHUT UP! I HAVE A BONE TO PICK WITH YOU!”

Wendy spoke up. “Come on, Dad! Don’t-!”

The man turned to his daughter. “WENDY, GO TO THE TRUCK!”

“But Dad-”

“I SAID GO TO THE TRUCK!” he shouted.

Wendy, looking completely dejected, reluctantly complied. “Yes, Dad…” She gave a sorry-look to her new-boyfriend before slowly walking out the gate.

“AND YOU, BOY!” Dan picked up Dipper by the arm (as there wasn’t much of a collar on Dipper’s shirt to grab) and brought him to eye-level. “YOU AND I ARE GOING TO HAVE A SERIOUS TALK!” Still holding onto the twelve-year-old, he marched off to find some place relatively-private.

A terrified-Mabel was now going over what she should do now. Things were really starting to escalate.

The girl snapped her fingers. “New plan: damage-control! First, I gotta find Wendy in the parking lot, spray her a little, then find Dipper. Hopefully, Manly Dan will be done with him. I’ll get Dipper and outside of a little trauma, it’ll be like none of this ever happened!”

“Here’s another one: you give me back that anti-love potion and face the consequences,” said a voice from behind Mabel.

Mabel turned to see the sour expression of Love God looming over her. “Uh, hi again, Love God…”

“Save it!” he said firmly. “You’re the type who never learns, aren’t you?”

“No! I mean yes! I mean…! Look, it was an accident, okay? Some of the love-potion got on some people who weren’t supposed to be affected, but maybe were meant for each other… It was all so great, but then got bad real fast and I-!”

“-Am about to make it worse by trying a quick-fix! Am I right?” Mabel looked shocked. Her lip started to quiver as she realized that she couldn’t do anything to fix things.

Love God pinched the bridge of his nose. Love comes in many forms, and compassion is just one of them. As such, he was kind of a sucker for people in trouble. “Listen: if something is meant to be, sometimes it’ll work itself out, alright? Heck, you could say my marriage was a happy-accident.”

“You’re married?” Mabel asked.

“Don’t look so surprised, kid,” Love God muttered. He pulled out a flask with yellowish-orange substance. “Now, I believe I mentioned consequences…”

  //

  A depressed-Wendy stood by her father’s pick-up truck. This was supposed to be a perfect day: first, Woodstick had finally come, so she had been excited about that. Then, all of a sudden, she got the unexpected-bonus of finding her “Mr. Right”; and in the form of her best guy-friend, no less. “Darn it, Dad!” she thought. “As if you don’t make things hard enough at home! Now, I’m single again and I’m not cool with it!”

She looked out in the direction of the festivities (which was a way’s away). She was waiting for her Manly Dan to return and either berate her or take her home. Maybe both, depending on the mood he was in. The man was somewhat old-fashioned and was often critical of who Wendy dated. Typically, she tried to keep it on the downlow. The only reason she got away with dating Robbie was because she had known him since they were kids (and probably because he knew she’d try to dump him before anything too serious had happened).

After a while, she saw a familiar figure in the distance, but it was not who she was expecting. Dipper was walking in her direction, which shocked Wendy quite a bit. She’d have thought he’d have either taken off or gotten walloped. As the young-adventurer approached, Wendy rushed over to meet him.

“Dipper! What happened? Are you okay?” she cried out.

“I think so,” he replied, looking somewhat shocked himself.

“What did my dad do to you? I heard him shout as I left?”

Dipper looked a little nervous. “He, uh, grabbed me, took me to the side, and laid down the law…”

“Oh no…” Wendy said, worried. “Did he, you know, end it? I don’t want this to end, Dipper!”

“Actually, Wendy, he gave me permission to date you,” he said, looking like he almost didn’t believe it.

Wendy looked confused. “What? But that doesn’t sound like him.”

“Well, there are some conditions, though. A lot of them if you don’t mind my saying…”

Wendy looked nonplussed. “Okay, that sounds a little more like him.”

“See, I guess he was a little move when I told him how I feel about you. He said it reminded him of brief time as a wimp, before he started liking your, uh, mom.”

“Mom…” Wendy thought somberly. She sighed. “Go on…”

“So, these conditions… Doors open at all times for starters… No going out together without permission. No going out where no adults are present… No Lookout Point.” Dipper looked nervous as he was saying all of this.

“What?!” Wendy exclaimed. “That sucks!”

“It gets better,” Dipper said. “I have to get a gym-membership. Your dad’s gonna coach me…”

Wendy cringed. “Ooohhh!!! I don’t envy you there.”

“Tell me about it… You know, there’s a whole list of this stuff. I’ve got it written down.” Dipper reached into his pocket and unfolded a rather long piece of paper with an extensive amount of written-conditions.

Wendy looked at what had all been written. “’Dining with my family once a week…’ Ouch. ‘Six inches apart unless you’re displaying affection’?”

“And I gotta do it right.”

“Dang. ‘Showering every day’? Okay, that I can sort of live with. No offense,” she told her dork.

Dipper nodded. “None taken.”

“And you’re on call whenever my dad needs an extra hand logging?”

“Pretty much. Oh, I’m also apparently not allowed to kiss you without his pre-written permission.”

“Drat! And that’s not even half of it, either.”

“Pretty much…” Dipper said, shrugging.

“Dude, this is a lot to ask for. I know I’m willing, but are you sure you want to go through this? I know I’m not really that awesome…”

“What kind of question is that? Of course I’m going to go through it all. To me, you’re more than worth it.”

“Oh, Dipper!” Wendy pulled the boy she fallen in love with tight. He returned the sentiment for a moment, but then reluctantly pushed her away.

“Boundaries, remember?” he said awkwardly.

“Right…” she replied, clearly not too happy about this arrangement. “So, you want to go back to Woodstick?”

“Sure!” Dipper replied enthusiastically. “Oh, and FYI, your dad says we’re allowed one kiss here.”

Wendy gave him a small-smile. “Well, guess we better make it count. We just gotta choose the right moment.”

And so, the young couple enjoyed their date at Woodstick together, being careful not to do anything to provoke Manly Dan (who was still around). They had some nice festival-food. They danced to some of the catchier songs on stage. They laughed at some of the antics of some of the more serious attendees. And when Stan Pines’ malformed, blazing hot-air balloon crashed in the middle of the festivities, the two of them decided that was a perfect time to have that kiss.

Meanwhile, as people gawked at the flaming balloon being put out by the fire-department, Mabel, clad in a cowboy hat and boots, sang a fun country-tune with the local minstrel, Toot-Toot McBumbersnazzle, briefly entertaining them and the firefighters as the flames went out.

Of course, most everyone took off as soon as they saw Stan approach…

  //

  Ten years later, at one of Gravity Falls’ fancy restaurants full of dinner, dancing, and live-music, a married-couple were dancing closely to the nice, slow, jazzy beat. One was a tall, fetching redhead in a shimmering, sleeveless gown. The other was a tall, muscular man in a custom-made tuxedo that probably wouldn’t tear when he flexed. It was easy to tell how blissfully enamored they both were.

“Oh, Mason!” the woman exclaimed. “I’m so glad we decided to stay together that summer!” Her husband gently dipped her low. “You’re so devoted. Show me that list of conditions again!”

The man reached into his pocket and pulled out a long, worn out slice of paper with faded-writing. His wife swooned in response.

“You’re never going to let me live that old fantasy down, are you?” he said with a chuckle.

“Not a chance, Mister!” Wendy smiled as he pulled her back to eye-level. “Not a chance.”

#wendip #Wendy Corduroy #Dipper Pines #Gravity Falls #WenDipWeek #fanfic #love potion #submission

[detectivejigsawpines]

Relatively Relativity-part 2 (Some adjustments required)

Eventually, the worst of the noise subsided.

Only for Mabel to take another look at her boy grunkles, and make them nearly jump out of their skins with her amazed and delighted squeal of, “Oh my gosh, you guys are so CUUUUUTEEEE!!!!”

“Gah!”  Stan saw the impending doom, and tried too late to escape from one of her arms snatching him up into a hug.  Seconds later Ford was grabbed by her other arm, and made a strangled noise as he had what felt like all of his air squeezed out of him.

Mabel actually lifted both of them off their feet in her enthusiasm, swinging them back and forth with far more strength than someone her age should have been capable of when they hadn’t spent years living on the streets or traveling the multiverse.  “You guys are just the most precious little pair of sweeties I’ve ever seen!  As soon as we get home I’m making you both tiny sweaters and taking a hundred pictures!!”

“Mabel-leggo-we need air-” Stan struggled, and finally just rolled up her sleeve and licked her arm.  Even though she was more often than not guilty of using the same tactic, it was enough to make her release them.

Dipper was by now curled up in the fetal position against a tree, rocking back and forth and gasping, “Not again, not again, this can’t be happening again!”  He glanced down at himself.  “I mean, at least I’m still in my own body, so that’s nice.”  He resumed rocking.  “But this still can’t be happening!”

“Okay, okay, everybody STOP!”

Ford waited until all eyes were on him, and then climbed up onto a nearby convenient tree stump.  He adjusted his glasses in a way that looked soothingly Ford-like even in his tiny child body and higher-pitched voice.  “Let’s all just calm down for a second.”

He glanced over at the flower, and saw with concern that it had wilted, with all the petals lying in a heap around the stem.

That can’t be good.

“...I think we all need to go home so I can examine that-” he pointed to the remains of the flower- “and figure out what kind of spell it cast on us.  This is nothing to panic over.”

“Nothing to panic over?!” Dipper demanded.  Fascinating; even with his voice fully developed he still managed to make it crack to an astonishing degree.  “Look at me, Grunkle Ford!  I’m old!”

“Yeah, and if ya don’t figure out how ta calm down you’re probably gonna start giving yourself a heart attack!” Stan said.

“Stanley!  That is not helpful!” Ford snapped, hopping off the stump and going to his nephew’s side.

“...Sorry.”  Stan joined him, and Mabel crouched down on Dipper’s other side.  Three hands rubbed his shoulders as he pushed his head between his knees.

After a minute Dipper took a few deep breaths, and then slowly got to his feet.  He still looked shaken up by the situation, but at least he had calmed down a little.  “Ugh, ow.  Do your guys’s joints creak this much when you have to stand up?”

“Oh yeah.  It’s even worse first thing in the morning.”  Stan stretched his back, and then his eyes widened in delight.  “Whoa, wait.  It’s been years since I’ve been able ta do that without it feelin’ all messed up!”  He looked down at his legs, and a wide smile stretched across his cheeks.

Before Ford could stop him, he took off running back down the trail with a whoop.

“Stanley!  Stanley, get back here!  We have to-”

Stan was already practically out of sight.  Ford groaned, and shrugged off his now-giant backpack which he had barely realized he was still wearing.  He glanced at the-well, technically the children, they still had the minds of thirteen-year-olds.  “Find something to put that flower in, would you?”

Then he chased after his brother.

****

Ford was disconcerted when he realized, very quickly, that his body had reverted back to the physical limitations he had possessed at this age.

Back then, while it was all well and good to go running around on the beach with Stan, chasing the waves or the sea gulls or each other, he had hated exercise when there were far more enjoyable options available, like reading his books or just sitting and drawing something.  He hadn’t gotten into the habit of going for long walks in the woods, or been forced to spend a lot of time running for his life from interdimensional bounty hunters.

Soon enough Ford was forced to slow down because of the stitch in his side, and double over gasping with the need to get more air into his lungs.

He clenched his fists against his knees in frustration, because he knew that he was capable of running faster than this, at least when he was in his regular body, he’d done it a million times, and now he couldn’t.

A few moments later he heard the thud of boots pounding against the ground, and a familiar out-of-breath voice.

“Whoo!  What a rush!  If I tried doin’ that when I was old I’d have ta sit on the couch for a week afterwards!  Ha!  Who’s an old fossil now, Mabel?”

Coming from the man (boy?  Shoot, that was going to get confusing pretty fast) who was capable of punching out giant squid monsters and outrunning angry leprechauns while carrying a heavy treasure chest, that was definitely an exaggeration.  But Ford was too busy trying to stop wheezing to call him on it.

“...You okay, Poindexter?” Stan asked, reaching out and touching his shoulder.

Ford lifted his eyes until they met his twin’s.  “W-We...should probably...go back to the kids.  I realize...you’re excited...about rediscovering your youth...but they’re not enjoying this as much as you are.”

Stan gave him a chagrined grimace.  “...Oh yeah.  Sorry.”

Ford patted his arm as he straightened up.  “‘S’ okay.  I get it.  It feels good to get some of those aches out of my bones.”

“Yeah, no kidding!”  Stan looked down at his arms with wide eyes.  “Can you believe these things were ever this skinny?”

Ford snorted.  “Your face is back to being mostly nose, though.”

“Hey!”  Stan slugged him in the arm.  “Take a look in the mirror, genius-you’re not much better off!”

Ford punched him back, giggling.

He was a little surprised by how natural a sound that felt to make, now that he was no longer an old man.

****

It turned out that Dipper had emptied out part of one of the water bottles, and then dug the flower out-roots and all, just in case-before placing it and its petals inside.  He’d even managed to get some pollen samples and add them to the inside of the bottle.

“Good job, Dipper!” Ford praised him, accepting it and slipping it into his backpack.  Then he straightened up, puffing out his chest.  “Okay, let’s get this back to the lab, and turn ourselves back to normal!”

Mabel cooed and clasped her hands together at her chin.  “Awww, you sound so adorable when you say stuff like that now!”

...Ford couldn’t help feeling like she was spoiling the gravitas of the moment.  He tried to ignore Stan’s wide smirk, and adjusted his coat collar with a cough before he started marching back the way they’d come.

****

A new problem arose when they reached the car.

Stan dug into his pocket and pulled out the keys, and just as he was unlocking the car Dipper grabbed his shoulder.

“What do you think you’re doing?”

Stan raised an eyebrow at him, in a way that was still very grunkle-like despite his young face.  “Gettin’ ready ta drive us home.”

“Grunkle Stan, you’re thirteen now!  You can’t be the one driving!”

The boy folded his arms.  “Uh, last I checked, you didn’t exactly have a driver’s license, kid.”

Dipper faltered.  “I-I know how to drive the golf cart!”

“Not the same.  Besides, remind me how many times you crashed it last summer?”

“Oh, like your driving is any safer!”  Dipper lunged for the keys.

Stan jumped out of reach.  “Fair point, but this is still my car!  And nobody but nobody is allowed ta drive it but me!”

Dipper chased after him, meaning that they were suddenly running around the car, with Stan defiantly holding the keys out of his elderly nephew’s reach.  “We’re gonna get pulled over if the cops see you behind the wheel, Grunkle Stan!  Be reasonable!”

“Never!  I’m not lettin’ you scratch up my car cuz you-”

Mabel finally stepped between them.  “Boys, boys!  I have a solution that’ll fix everything!”

****

Five minutes later, Dipper was in the driver’s seat, with Stan sitting on his lap, head tucked against his shoulder.  Dipper’s feet worked the gas and brakes at his grunkle’s command, while Stan did the steering and watched the road with his newly improved vision.  Neither of them looked pleased with this solution, but they’d had to admit that they hadn’t been able to think of a better one.

Mabel and Ford sat in the back, with the water bottle containing the flower clenched in Ford’s lap.  He stared at it thoughtfully, scribbling notes in his journal and thinking about other experiences with enchanted plants, and how they might compare to this one.

Unnoticed by him, Mabel had pulled a cloth tape measure out of her pocket and was taking his measurements; already she was thinking about what kind of sweaters to make him and Stan.  Because on the one hand, both of them seemed to like the color red, and looked pretty good in it; on the other hand, this was a special occasion, and maybe she should make something in blue, or green, or gold.  Maybe all of them together?  Decisions, decisions…

She was still thinking about her options when the car pulled up in front of the Mystery Shack.  Stan turned the engine off, and unbuckled himself and Dipper.

“Geez you’ve got bony knees,” he said dryly as he looked up at his nephew.

Dipper snorted.  “Now you know how I feel.”

Fortunately Stan’s mood had improved enough for him to grin before opening the car door and bounding up the steps of the porch.

“Soos, we’re home!” he called as he opened the door.

A few seconds later there was a startled yelp, and a thud.

A little bit after that, the front door opened again, and Stan peered uneasily out at his family.

“...Guys?  I think I just killed Soos.”

********

Don’t worry, I didn’t actually kill Soos.

I’m not that much of a monster.

Usually.

#relatively relativity #gravity falls #grunkle stan #grunkle ford #young stan #young ford #old dipper #old mabel #precious boy #stan is enjoying this #ford and dipper not so much #gravity falls soos #dipper pines #mabel pines

[shima-draws]

Remember that one episode in Gravity Falls where Stan loses a bet to Mabel and does that stan-wrong-dance?? Can you write a drabble where Ford finds the footage pls the imagery is so freaking funny lmao

[[Send me a fandom/ship/prompt and I’ll write a drabble for it!]]

I’M SORRY THIS TOOK SO LONG BUT I FINALLY FINISHED…I had a total blast writing it tho!!

I kinda took your prompt and went way beyond the original concept anjsakbnda so there’s some angst in here because Stan’s a self-sacrificial idiot and Ford almost loses his shit, but I hope you like it nonetheless :’)

Also this ended up being nearly 4k words so. Yeah. That’s why it took so long LOL but hopefully you got more than what you asked for!

This is also on Archive, if you’d rather read it there!

——————————————————–

Ford is absolutely furious.

Now, he’s no stranger to anger, having fallen victim to it many, many times throughout his life. His bouts of rage usually result in catastrophe if he isn’t careful. A prime example: letting Stan get kicked out of the house forty years ago. Or, when his irritation caused a fight between them that ended up in Stan’s permanently scarred shoulder and his own thirty year trip into the multiverse. It’s never simple and it usually doesn’t end well, especially if Stan happens to be on the other side of the argument.

This time, however, is a bit different.

It’s one thing if his brother has done something to piss him off. It’s another if Stanley does something so unbelievably stupid it scares the absolute shit out of Ford. He doesn’t like being angry. He doesn’t like being angry as a result of him being terrified even more.

And so, he’s taken to pacing in his study, trying to let off some steam. He’d separated himself from Stan after lecturing at him for twenty-five minutes about the very many reasons why Stan shouldn’t have charged right into battle against a particularly violent group of bullasps (an enormous wasp-bull anomaly hybrid, helpfully named by Mabel). Stan had come this close to being pierced by one of their enormous stingers—and if he had, well. The venom they secrete works so quickly Ford doubts he would have been able to do anything about it in time. And that is what had triggered his hysteria.

Mabel sits on one of the oversized chairs in the room, munching on a bag of popcorn. She’d followed him after his frustration had shot through the ceiling, needing to get away before he said anything he’d come to regret. Dipper had stayed behind to admonish Stan further, but not as harshly as Ford originally had.

It’s been almost a year since Ford and Stan left Gravity Falls to travel the world together. They’ve had plenty of arguments and heated late night discussions on board the Stan O’ War II, but they’d never escalated to this level. The two of them hashed out all of their past history and mistakes, and they’ve been attached at the hip ever since—but Stanley’s always had a bit of a reckless steak, and Ford will never admit it, but he’s unbelievably overprotective of his twin, especially after the whole shooting-him-with-a-memory-gun thing. (They try not to talk about that, much, mostly because it makes Ford feel so guilty it brings him to tears, and Stan hates seeing him like that.) This sort of takes the cake for every previous situation where Stan has willingly put himself in danger on their journey out at sea. Ford can’t remember the last time he’s felt so high strung.

“I just can’t believe him,” Ford hisses, his fingers tangled in his hair. His heart is still pounding, fear spiking through his veins and making him as taught as a bowstring. “Out of all the reckless, most monumentally moronic—”

“I know you’re upset, Grunkle Ford, but we took care of it!” Mabel points out, trying to be helpful. She does sound worried, though, if her expression has anything to say about it. “Those things ran right off after I used that cannon to shoot that t-shirt into the woods! Who knew bullasps are actually attracted to red things? I thought regular bulls hated the color red!”

Ford can’t help but smile a bit at her observation. “Actually, regular bulls are red-green colorblind, Mabel. It’s not that they particularly dislike the color red, it’s the action of a matador moving their cape that stimulates hyper aggression in—wait, wait, that’s not the point!” He heaves out a sigh. He turns to her and frowns. “Do you—do you even know why I’m so furious with Stanley right now?”

Mabel makes a funny sound with her mouth, her legs kicking back and forth, and then she answers. “‘Cause he shook his butt at them and told them to shove it where the sun don’t shine?”

Ford groans and pinches the bridge of his nose. Could Stan have any less tact? The children are almost 14 now, but still.

“That’s part of it,” he grumbles. “But it’s his insistence on constantly throwing himself headlong into danger before even considering the consequences of doing so. Stanley is—he’s ridiculously defensive of his family, which isn’t a bad quality to have at all, but…it gets him into unnecessary trouble. A lot.”

Mabel looks truly concerned now, which is good. “Is that why you looked like Dipper in the middle of a Wendy crisis when Grunkle Stan almost got hit by one of those super giant sharp and pointy stingers?”

Ford considers telling her that the venom would have killed Stanley in minutes, but then decides he should probably spare her those morbid details.

“Yes. It would have been…very catastrophic if he’d actually come into contact with one.” Ford slumps, suddenly feeling exhausted. “I’ve come this close to losing him once, I…the mere thought of possibly losing him again, and him ending up somewhere I couldn’t ever possibly reach…”

His throat tightens and he feels pressure building behind his eyelids. Emotion makes his heart feel like it’s being constricted, squeezed tight, and he swallows. He’d gone half his life without his brother and he regrets every single minute he didn’t spend by Stanley’s side. Almost losing him to Bill was a huge wake up call, and Ford’s barely been without him since then.

“So that’s why you’re so frowny,” Mabel chirps. Ford can’t tell if she’s totally oblivious to the seriousness of the situation or if she’s just trying to act upbeat for his sake—but he appreciates it either way. “You were pretty scared for him, huh, Grunkle Ford?”

Ford wipes his eyes and nods wordlessly. In the past he might have brushed her off but he knows better now—his family is the most important thing he has, and confiding in them when times are difficult is usually the best course of action.

The young teen hums thoughtfully, scratching her chin, and then her eyes practically light up.

“Wait, hold on! I have an idea,” she says excitedly. Her smile turns wicked. Oh, no. Ford knows that look. He’s been on the receiving end of it many times before.

“Grunkle Ford, have you seen the Stan Wrong Song?”

Ford tilts his head. “The…what?”

Mabel giggles insanely. “The Stan Wrong Song! It’s a song we forced Grunkle Stan to sing after he lost a bet to me.”

“Stanley lost a bet.”

“Uh-huh!”

“To you.” If Ford didn’t know her so well, he’d think she was lying. It’s extremely hard to believe, knowing how brilliant his twin is in the conning department.

Her grin becomes wider, if that’s even possible. Her braces glint in the dim light. “We bet to see who could make more money—me, taking over Grunkle Stan’s position as a morally ambiguous tour guide, or him on vacation. And I won the bet by a dollar! A dollar, Grunkle Ford!”

“Incredible,” Ford breathes, shaking his head.

“We made him sing it at least thirty-six times,” his nibling tells him. She really could give Stan a run for his money with how mischievous she is.

“Or, wait, maybe it was thirty-eight? Anyway, it was a whole lot! We were all singing it for weeks. The power of catchy made up songs prevailed! Grunkle Stan says he hates it, but I hear him singing it in the bathroom sometimes when he thinks I can’t hear him!”

The older man chuckles at that, amused.

“Anyway,” Mabel sing-songs. “Since Grunkle Stan was a dumb-dumb and almost got speared today and scared the bejeebers out of all of us, I think this is a good opportunity to bust that video out and give him a good ol’ dose of shame!”

“You truly are a peculiar girl, Mabel,” Ford says in wonder.

The brunette beams at this, her smile almost blinding.

“Come on,” she says, grabbing his wrist. Her grip is surprisingly strong, and so is the way she tugs him along with her. “It’s payback time! Revenge tastes sweet, like gummy worms!”

——————————————————–

Ten minutes later they’re seated together in the living room, prepared for the show. Mabel has already plugged her phone into the TV, which can broadcast anything she wants, thanks to a helpful little device Fiddleford had made for the family a while back. (It definitely helped when Ford wanted to show off all the videos he’d taken while he and Stan were out at sea on a larger screen for the whole family to watch.)

Stan is nowhere to be seen—which Ford supposes is a good sign as any. He’d rather not have Stan confiscate Mabel’s phone before Ford even gets to watch whatever the young girl is intent on showing him. Dipper’s probably still keeping watch over Stan, so that’s reassuring. He’s sure that there’s nobody more capable of watching his twin, except maybe Soos.

Mabel is practically vibrating in her seat, posture tense with excitement, and Ford fidgets. He’s honestly not sure what to expect—but when the video finally loads and the first thing he sees is Stan in a neon orange track suit covered with sparkles, Ford blinks in shock. He definitely didn’t expect that.

His twin looks like he’d rather be chased by a horrendous monster of the deep than perform in front of the camera, and the deadpan expression on his face has Ford releasing an amused snort.

Stan glances offscreen, gruff and irritated. “Ugh, l-look, I’m not gonna—”

Mabel’s voice interjects before he can finish protesting. “Do it!”

Stan begins to bounce as a song plays in the background. He looks so goofy doing it that Ford starts to giggle a little, the stress of the day rolling off his shoulders.

“I’m Stan and I was wrong.” Stan sings, dryly, with all the emotion of a desert cactus. “I’m singing the Stan Wrong Song.”

Something in Ford breaks, then—and he’s laughing, incredulously, sort of struck dumb by the whole situation. Mabel sniggers beside him. Stan starts to swing his arms, and Ford wheezes. His brother looks so foolish. Ford is absolutely reveling in it. (He’s so using this for blackmail material later.)

“I shouldn’t have taken that chance. Now here’s my remorseful dance,” Stan finishes, pouty and clearly embarrassed.

“Do the kicks!” Mabel’s voice calls out again, and Stan makes a feeble attempt at performing a kick, to which she demands them to be “Jazzier!”

It’s when Gompers comes in and starts a tug of war match with Stan that’s one for the history books that Ford loses it completely. The entire thing is just so wild and hysterical that he can’t help it, clutching at his side as he laughs and laughs and laughs. The video resets, going back to the beginning, and Ford happily sits through it again.

By the time the video loops for the fifth round Ford is howling with laughter, nearly bowled over by the force of it. His side has a stitch and it hurts and he’s pretty sure he’s crying but he can’t stop, too overwhelmed at the hilarity of his brother in a sparkly suit singing a song clearly meant to humiliate him—and maybe it’s the fact that Stan had had another close brush with death earlier and the built up tension from the incident that has him letting it all out through his chortles. Mabel is giggling madly beside him—whether she’s laughing at Stan or laughing at him laughing at Stan is unclear, but it’s contagious, and Ford can’t stop smiling.

God, how utterly ridiculous this all is. He loves his family.

The video is on its eighth loop and Ford is pretty sure he’s going to pass out from lack of oxygen when Stan bursts into the room, his eyes wide. Dipper follows close behind.

“What’s going on in—Ford?!”

Stan rushes over to him, his face drawn up in concern, and Ford’s heart melts a little. He might still be angry at his twin for scaring him half to death, but really, Stan’s mother hen tendencies never fail to make him smile.

“Ford—Jesus, you’re cryin’, Sixer! What the hell happened?”

Ford giggles and wipes the tears from his eyes, struggling to get his breathing back under control. “I’m—ahaha! I’m fine, Stanley.”

“With all the noise you were making, I thought you were dying,” Stan says with a worried frown. “It sounded like you were in pain or—”

Ford playfully rolls his eyes and nudges him in the shin with his foot.

“Now you know how I feel.”

Once he finally settles down, and when Mabel’s tittering fades, Stan finally registers the video playing behind him. His face immediately goes ash white, his expression quickly morphing into one of utter horror, and if Ford weren’t so wiped out by nearly laughing his ass into unconsciousness he’d probably start doing it again.

Dipper sees what they’re watching and he snorts, covering his mouth to hide any further giggles from coming out.

"Mabel, pumpkin?”

Mabel is the picture of pure innocence, her smile sickly sweet. “Yes, Grunkle Stan?”

“Either I’m having memory issues again or I swear I made you promise me in confidence that you would never ever show this video to Ford,” Stan says, slowly. His grin is wide and almost terrifying. If Ford didn’t know how much Stan loves Mabel he would have thought his twin was seriously considering strangling her. “And what did you do?”

“I showed the video to Ford,” Mabel says, looking shameful. She twirls a piece of long brown hair around her finger. Ford chokes back a bark of laughter at how well she’s pulling this off.

“Don’t be too hard on her, Stan,” Ford soothes in an attempt to curb his brother’s embarrassment. “She was only trying to help.”

Stan simply pouts, and suddenly all Ford can see is a young boy, cheeks bright red from the sun, childishly complaining about having to wear glasses because he thinks it’ll make him look like a nerd. Something warm blooms inside Ford’s chest and he bites his cheek, trying not to get lost in the memory of their childhood.

“How is this helping anything,” Stan mumbles, his cheeks flushing a charming shade of pink.

“It’s teaching you some humility,” Ford states, crossing his arms. “Maybe you should sing it again, Stanley.”

“What?!” His twin barks in outrage.

“He does have a point, Grunkle Stan,” Dipper provides helpfully from where he’s now lounging on the couch with Mabel. The video continues to loop, much to Stan’s chagrin. “You did do something wrong today.”

“Wh—are you still on about that? My god,” Stan groans, throwing his head back. “I was trying to be, ya know, heroic! Live up to my title.”

Ford is tempted to kick him again, but harder. His glare makes the other man wilt slightly.

“You already live up to your title, Stan,” Ford points out. “You don’t have to throw yourself in front of a beast with a toxicity level of 94 percent to prove that.”

“94? Holy crow, that’s high,” Dipper squeaks.

“You’ve already saved the world and paid the price for it once,” Ford continues. He slumps a bit in his chair, the exhaustion of the day finally catching up to him. “Please, Stan, you have to understand—there’s no point in trying to protect us if we lose you in the process. It’s just…just…” And he shakes his head, frustrated that he can’t put it into words properly.

“Okay, alright,” Stan says sheepishly, edging closer to where he’s sitting. “I get it. I didn’t mean to scare ya. It’s just habit for me to be self-sacrificial at this point.”

“That’s a terrible habit!” Mabel accuses.

“She’s right,” Ford mumbles. “If you hadn’t…if that stinger had come into contact, you would have…and then I…I…” He chokes up, his eyes watering. His heart clenches painfully, fear making his body feel like it’s encased in ice. “If I lost you…”

“Hey, easy there on the waterworks, Poindexter,” Stan teases lightly. He holds his hands out in a pacifying gesture. “I’m fine, see? Still in one piece. Mostly.”

“This isn’t funny, Stanley! How can you still refuse to comprehend—ugh!”

Ford is nearly tearing his hair out in frustration now, his teeth grinding together. Seriously, how can his brother still be such an idiot? He thought the lecturing and the clear distress the rest of the family is expressing would be enough to make Stan realize, but—

Stan folds his arms, huffing, and Ford notes that his face is coloring again. Mabel and Dipper gaze at him curiously, and before Ford can question his twin, Stan releases a soft, irritated noise from his throat.

“I’m Stan and I was wrong,” Stan mutters.

Ford blinks in shock.

The other man sighs, a deep-sounding one that slackens his posture. “I’m singing…the Stan Wrong Song.”

Mabel makes a high-pitched keen of excitement, and Dipper grins. Ford almost falls right out of his chair.

He isn’t sure what’s more surprising—Stan willingly putting his pride on the line, or begrudgingly singing about his mistake in front of the family, who he knows are more than capable of holding this against him.

“I shouldn’t have taken that chance…”

Stan edges closer until he’s standing over Ford, his cheeks the color of a ripe apple.

“I’m sorry, okay? Now will you please forgive me already?”

Something lodges itself in Ford’s throat, and his whole body feels as if it’s being flooded with warmth. Even after all this time, Stan still puts his want for Ford’s forgiveness over everything else. His heart glows.

“Stanley…”

“Don’t gimme that look,” Stan grumbles, refusing to meet his eyes.

The older twin beams and launches himself out of his chair, scooping his brother up in a hug.

“Wh—Ford?!”

Ford nuzzles happily into Stan’s hair, grinning wide.

“Thank you, Stanley.”

“What! You cannot leave me out of this family hug action!” Mabel cries, leaping off the couch to run over and throw her arms around her Grunkles’ legs.

“Squeeeeze!” She says, squeezing them tight. Ford laughs jubilantly and Stan rolls his eyes, but there’s a smile that refuses to go away on his face.

Mabel presses her nose into Stan’s leg for a moment, and then she looks over her shoulder at Dipper.

“Come on, Dippin Dots, you know you want in on this!”

Dipper rolls his eyes but slides off the couch nonetheless, coming over to circle them before ending up beside Ford in the group hug.

The young girl starts giggling, a happy, wonderful sound that makes Ford’s heart swell like a balloon. He feels all sorts of fuzzy, the euphoria of being with the people he loves the most—and with his twin, his other half, the person who almost gave his life for him today—making him burst into merry laughter as well. Soon enough Dipper joins them, and finally, Stan is roped into it, their laughter too contagious to ignore.

When they finally all calm down, Ford nudges his head against Stan’s temple. So maybe he’s feeling a bit clingy now, so what?

“Next time you do something like that again I will sneak horrifying body-altering concoctions into your coffee,” Ford tells him way too cheerfully for someone who’s threatening possible disfiguration.

“Yikes, Sixer. What sort of crap did you learn how to do on the other side of that portal?”

“I know how to disembody someone in a total of 103 unique ways,” Ford responds brightly while he rubs his cheek against Stan’s shoulder, hiding a grin into his shirt.

Much to his delight, Stan stiffens beneath him, and Ford almost laughs.

“Remind me not to get on your bad side,” Stan gruffs, patting him on the back. He pauses. “…Again.”

“Hey,” Dipper playfully elbows Stan. “Grunkle Stan, you didn’t finish.”

Mabel’s entire face lights up, and her smile is blinding—and devilish. “Oh, that’s right! You didn’t finish, Grunkle Stan! You have to commit to it all the way!”

Stan looks down at them, puzzled. He tries to squirm out of Ford’s hold but Ford just hums and hugs him tighter, his forehead pressing against the man’s shoulder.

Stan promptly gives up on getting free (because he knows from experience once Ford starts clinging it’s all over). Instead, he addresses the younger twins with an air of confusion.

“What are you gremlins going on about? Finish what?”

“Your song, silly!” Mabel chirps.

Dipper nods, his smirk matching his sister’s. “Yeah, you didn’t sing the entire thing. Or even do the dance! That was a pretty lackluster performance if you ask me.”

Stan’s face draws up in horror. “Oh, no.”

Ford leans back, but doesn’t detach himself from their interwoven limbs. Giving Stan another dose of shame, as Mabel put it, sounds thrilling right about now.

“You know, they do have a point,” he says, pretending to mull it over. He can’t stop grinning. “I’d love to see the most recent rendition of the Stan Wrong Song, from start to finish. Wouldn’t you, kids?”

“Abso-lutely!” Mabel almost screams. “I’ll have to go get my camera!”

Dipper nods, a hand on his chin. “Oh, yes, yes. Gotta have it.”

“You are the worst,” Stan hisses, his entire face matching the color of Ford’s sweater.

Ford laughs for the millionth time that day, his body feeling lighter than air.

——————————————————–

After that, they make him sing it a total of seven times before finally giving mercy. Stan swears he’s never going to do anything super dangerous again until he does two days later. Then the whole process repeats. LMAO

I can never get enough of Pines family fluff it makes me weak in the knees and oh so happy

#Gravity Falls #Ford Pines #Stan Pines #Dipper Pines #Mabel Pines #Stanley Pines #Stanford Pines #Grunkle Stan #Grunkle Ford #GF #Pines family #Pines twins #Mystery twins classic #Stan twins #Mystery twins #Shima writes #Drabble requests #Drabble challenge #Long post #Fanfiction #Drabble

[minijenn]

Universe Falls, Chapter 70, Part 2

Alas, we’ve finally reached the end of arc 7! And its been along damn time coming too. And at the end of it we have a chapter that’s just... eh ok. Its fine. Nothing too special, but I like it well enough all the same and hope you do too. Enjoy!

***

Chapter 70, Part 2: In Too Deep

FCCDE JRUE, XGPR KQ EBW FSCVPH UHVV FCCDE YEVTF QHY TCY'N SGCDQCY AG XYG OUJDRVUD, XSGKVT DFWXTJ VSUL'L LFY JIM DRFY JIM'KI ZP EIG WIVR

“And Steven… we love you.”

Once again, Steven found himself awakening with a start, Garnet’s final gentle message all but lost on him as he abruptly jolted upright. The fact that he was back in a body of flesh and gem as opposed to watermelon barely registered when the only thing he could immediately feel was the ground violently rumbling beneath him.

“S-Steven!” Mabel’s startled gasp was only barely audible amidst the continuous earthquake. As the young Gem struggled to sit up, he glanced over to find her clinging tightly onto the one of the legs of the nearby drill in a meager attempt to keep herself steady. “W-what’s happening?! Did it work? Did they split Malachite up?”

Steven didn’t get a chance to answer as the chalkboard resting near the barn suddenly toppled over as a result of the resounding quakes, falling hard on top of both him and Mabel. Fortunately, Ford rushed in, barely managing to maintain his footing himself to pull it off of the startled pair. “Are you children alright?!” he called over the hectic din as he helped pull them both up. Knowing that they wouldn’t be heard anyway, Steven and Mabel both simply nodded, though all the same, Peridot was quick to interject from her spot right next to the drill.

“Good! Because if you two are done just sitting there, maybe its about time that we stop the world from ending!” she snapped, obviously frantic as she reached inside of the drill to make the very last few adjustments to it.

“It looks like the Cluster really is starting to emerge after all,” Ford explained gravely as he pulled out a small, continuously beeping device. “According to my pocket seismograph here, these earthquakes are getting stronger by the second. If we don’t hurry, the entire planet could tear itself apart in just a few mere hours!”

“Oh man, Malachite and the Cluster, both going crazy all in the same day?” Mabel frowned, aptly alarmed. “When it rains around here, it really does pour, huh?”

“What are you talking about? It’s not raining!” Peridot exclaimed, the expression completely lost on her. “And even if it was, that would be the least of our worries right now. Where are the others?”

“They’re stuck at the lake,” Steven informed, though he paused upon noticing the apprehensive, almost pleading look Mabel was sending his way. “B-but they’re fine! Everyone’s fine! They just have to find another way off the island.”

“Then we’ll just have to drill without them,” Ford concluded staunchly, though he did stop to take a brief glance around the area. “Wait, where’s Dipper? He should be coming with us. These quakes are making it far too dangerous for us to leave anyone behind.”

“Uh….” Mabel and Steven exchanged a wide-eyed glance at this, their cover for Dipper’s absence largely having worked up until now. But, when pressed for an actual explanation as to his whereabouts, Mabel in particular was hard pressed to give one, hence why she panicked instead. “…Who?”

“Dipper?” Ford raised a dour eyebrow. “Your brother?”

“Oh, him,” Mabel forced a grin, practically in a cold sweat by this point as she offered the first thing that came to her. “He… died.”

Ford’s already doubtful expression flattened even more as he turned to the young Gem instead. “Steven, where is he? Really?”

“Mmmm,” Steven took in an anxious breath, one that he was practically forced to let out as the ground aggressively trembled once more. “He snuck off with the Gems and Mr. Pines to the lake even after they told him not to so he could help split up Malachite and save Lapis!”

“What?!” Ford exclaimed, baffled by this quickly-spat out truth.

“B-but he’s ok!” Steven immediately reiterated. “They’re all ok, just like I said!”

“Which means we need to stop standing here wasting time!” Peridot cut in quite impatiently as she scaled the small ladder up to the drill’s cockpit. “Seriously, am I the only one who understands the meaning of teamwork around here?!”

“Peridot’s right,” Ford said, letting out an accepting sigh as he urged the kids to follow after her before doing so himself. “I’m sure Dipper, the Gems, and even Stanley will be fine out there. But none of us will be if we don’t put an end to the Cluster as quickly as possible.”

“So,” Peridot addressed the kids, her tone serious as she looked them both straight in the eye. “Steven, Mabel, are you ready to drill down into the planet to depths never before reached by your species to stop the Cluster before it forms and save your world?!”

“Uh, I-I don’t know!” Steven shook his head nervously.

“M-maybe?” Mabel shrugged just as indecisively. “C-can we have more time to think of a better answer?”

“No!” Peridot snapped. “Say that we’ll do it together and it’s gonna be great!”

“We’re gonna do it together and it’s gonna be great!” Steven and Mabel both repeated in the most earnest unison they could muster.

“Liars!”

“Ok, everything should finally be set,” Ford reported as he finished preforming the very last checks on the drill’s base. “It’s now or never. Ready or not, we have a mission to complete.”

Despite the fact that, as far as they knew, the odds stacked against them when it came to the Cluster were rather momentous, Steven and Mabel both opted to push their understandable fear aside in favor of the same sort of determination Peridot and Ford were carrying. And it was with that determination that they all piled into the drill’s cockpit, or as least as much as all four of them could given just how surprisingly small that cockpit was.

“Uh…” Steven frowned as they all squeezed in together. They were pressed so tightly up against each other that Mabel more or less had to sit on Ford’s lap just to fit while Peridot’s usually triangular hair was pressed flat to the side of the cockpit, not that she had even really noticed. “I don’t know if this is really gonna wor-”

“Too late! We’re already in, let’s go!” Peridot proclaimed, slamming the cockpit’s opening shut with a single press of a button. With another turn of the key, the drill’s engine roared to life, its tip starting to spin soon after.

“Everyone! Brace yourselves!” Ford called as he helped the green Gem copilot the machine they were both quite familiar with.

“Increasing speed!” Peridot thrust a lever forward, revving up the drill even more until finally, its tip not only struck the ground but pierced cleanly through it. Mabel and Steven watched in silent awe as the machine abruptly plunged downward, the blue skies and familiar greenery of the barnyard quickly giving way to the darkness of the earth below.

“Alright,” Steven said, his hands held in tight fists as he closed his eyes just as tightly. “Bracing for impact!”

“Actually, we have two more hours until we reach the Cluster,” Peridot pointed out as the whirling of the drill became uniform and quiet. “Approximately.”

“Whaaaaa?” Mabel asked, dumbfounded. “But I thought this thing was supposed to… ya know, boom! Bam! Take us right down to the Cluster so we knock it right out of the park and save everything!”

“And it will,” Ford assured, nodding to one of the drill’s tiny monitors, which showed a representation of the drill’s descent. “But we’ve only just barely breached the Earth’s crust. We’ll have to go through both the lithosphere and the asthenosphere, not to mention the mantle and the outer core before getting to the Cluster at the inner core.”

“That… sure does sound like a lot…” Steven said worriedly.

“It is a lot,” Peridot agreed. “But our drill is more than equipped to handle such an intense journey thanks to its titan’s ore outfitting and my expertly engineered design.”

“I think you mean Fiddleford’s expertly engineered design considering the fact that he was the one who engineered this,” Ford pointed out, sending the green Gem a critical look.

“Ugh, fine,” Peridot groaned begrudgingly. “Thanks to the Fiddleford’s design. Though my technological know-how certainly helped in at least 85% of the drill’s construction!”

“And the same goes for myself and Pearl as well,” the author remarked. “But you already knew that considering just how many times we’ve had to remind you of our contributions so far.”

“Augh! And you insist on going on about those contributions even still!” Peridot huffed, slightly annoyed. “T-though… I suppose I would have been… pretty hard pressed to put a machine of this caliber together all on my own so… I’m… grateful for the assistance.”

“Hmph,” Ford was unable to hold back a satisfied smirk at this. “And here I was thinking you’d never say it.”

“So, uh… does this thing have any windows we can open?” Mabel asked, tugging at the collar of her sweater a bit. “It’s getting super stuffy in here.”

“If we opened up any interior port in here, you three humans would suffocate almost instantly due to the intense pressure of the densely solidified rock all around us,” Peridot explained matter-of-factly. “So now. No windows.”

“Oh…” Mabel frowned, disappointed.

“So… two hours, huh?” Steven asked, already starting to get bored, a sentiment Mabel clearly shared with nothing but dark, endless earth to stare out at. “Wish we’d brought some tunes.” Peridot quickly complied with this request, pressing a button to play some surprisingly calming, but rather mundane music. “Uh… thanks,” the young Gem said, halfheartedly at this.

“What is this?” Ford frowned as he looked to the drill’s console. “Peridot, what did you do with the ‘Beethoven’s Best Hits’ disk I had loaded up in here?”

“Oh, that noisy tripe?” the green Gem scoffed. “I tossed it out. This music I found on the ‘interweb’ is much more pleasing to listen to.”

“Peridot, this is elevator music,” the author deadpanned. “And that was the best collection of classical music I’ve been able to find for quite some time now! Its scientifically proven to help stimulate mental facilities, improve focus, and-”

“And drive someone up the wall with all those whiny stringed instruments!” Peridot exclaimed in clear distaste. “Besides, this so-called ‘elevator music’ is much more fitting for the current situation.”

“Ohhhh yeah!” Mabel chimed in. “We could always just pass the time pretending we’re on a real elevator! Gooooing up!” She brightly raised her hand, only to realize that none of the others were playing along. “Or… I guess, going down, heh.”

A long beat of silence followed after this, largely as the result of everyone more or less running out of things to say. The elevator music continued to drone on just as much as the seemingly unchanging scenery of the crust’s uniform rocky layers, giving them no indication as to how far down they had gone or how close they were to their destination. The full weight of the task that awaited them at the distant core, as well as the very real possibility that they could indeed fail if things didn’t go off without a hitch, was only starting to hit them all amidst the lingering silence. And it was such a dreadful, horrific thought that Steven was quick to be the first of them to push his mind away from it in order to help the others do the same.

“It’s… kinda freaky down here, huh?” he asked the others generally.

“Why’s that?” Peridot asked.

“Its just dark and cramped and-” the young Gem groaned as he attempted to get comfortable without disrupting Ford or Mabel. “Augh, I can’t even stretch out.”

“See? See? That’s what I’m sayin’!” Mabel readily agreed. “Its so stuffy and tight in here! How were all of us and the rest of the Gems and Dipper supposed to all fit in here anyway?”

“I don’t know, they’d shrink or something!” Peridot huffed defensively. “We didn’t have a lot of time to plan.”

“To be perfectly honest, I don’t think the original plan was for all of us to go anyway,” Ford mused.

“So… what is the plan then?” Steven asked curiously.

Ford and Peridot both exchanged a serious glance at this, knowing that in the absence of the others, they were largely the ones left in charge of this mission. And rightly so too, given just how close to the development and construction of the very drill they were now piloting they had been from the very beginning. “We have a drill,” Peridot concluded succinctly. “We’re going to drill.”

“…Good plan!” Mabel remarked after a prolonged beat of silence. “Short and simple. I like it!”

“Oh! Everyone, get ready!” Ford announced as he happened to spot something of note on one of the console’s monitors. “We’re about to penetrate the asthenosphere!”

“The aesthetic-who now?” Mabel asked, confused, though she quickly got her answer. The entire drill jolted violently, rattling the small group aboard it as it finally broke free from the dense layer’s of the earth’s crust to breach into another layer altogether. One that offered a completely different view from the seemingly endless rounds of rock and soil they had been drilling through before.

“Whoa! It’s all lava!” Steven gasped, amazed at the bright orange magma now surrounding them on all sides as they continued plunging through it.

“Aha! The hull is holding up after all!” Ford exclaimed, satisfied by their relative safety. “Turns out that coating of titan’s ore would have been well worth the cost. That is, if we had actually ended up paying for it.”

“So, uh… just asking for a friend,” Mabel interjected casually. “If someone were to uh, get a whole bunch of titan’s ore from the local rich girl that said someone’s brother may or may not be totally crushing on and make really fancy sparkly suit outta all that, then… would that someone, oh, I dunno, be able to swim in lava?”

“…Hypothetically, yes,” Ford adjusted his glasses. “Though I doubt such a suit would be very buoyant, especially in lava.”

“Not that this even is lava in the first place,” Peridot interjected, nodding back towards the thick layer of molten rock they were still descending through. “Lava is what comes out of volcanoes. This is super-heated peridotite.”

“Peridot…ite?” Steven inquired, glancing over at the green Gem.

“Yeah,” Peridot grinned rather proudly. “It’s made of the same stuff as peridots.”

“Oh! So this peridotite stuff has a whole bunch of super-cute silly nerd vibes packed into it too?” Mabel asked curiously.

“Ye—no,” Peridot rolled her eyes as she corrected herself. “…Or at least I don’t think it does. Hm… That might be worth some future research….”

“So… you were made on Homeworld, right?” Steven asked the green Gem, to which she only tersely nodded. Her expression hardened as she kept her sights on the drill’s controls, and for once it didn’t really seem as though she had much to say until the young Gem prompted her onward. “…What was it like?”

“I didn’t exist,” Peridot said simply, looking to her own dim reflection in the cockpit’s visor. “Then I did. I don’t have memories of it. Just… feelings. I know I can never go back to Homeworld now but its… hard, not to have at least some feelings for where you came from…”

“Tell me about it…” Ford muttered quietly to himself, realizing just how much he could relate to the green Gem when he considered the salty, sun-soaked shores of his youth. Shores that he wasn’t sure he’d ever really go back to again.

Likewise, both Steven and Mabel were filled with equal sympathy for the clearly homesick green Gem, especially when they spotted the smallest spark of a tear welling up in her eyes. Tears that she was quick to wipe away as she forced herself to regain her composure in front of them. “B-but its fine! I’m fine. After all, I have something different now.”

“And what’s that?” Mabel asked.

Peridot hesitated, her cheeks lighting up in a bit of a flustered green blush. “You know… y-you… guys.”

“Aw, Peri!” Mabel gushed cheerfully, embarrassing the green Gem even more as she reached over to give her an unexpected hug. “You really do love us after all!”

While there had once been a time when Peridot would have immediately argued against such a claim, this time she didn’t. Instead, she simply accepted the fond embrace, doing so with a small, contented smile as she affirmed to herself once more that she’d give up everything she’d once known back on Homeworld a thousand times over all for the warmth and friendship she now knew.

The tender moment was all too soon interupted however as a sudden heavy thud rattled the entire cockpit. The shuddering noise persisted, seeming to grow louder and more frantic with every passing second, much to the growing alarm of the group listening in on it. “Uh, is that usually what lava—I mean peridotite sounds like?” Mabel asked with an anxious frown.

Before either Ford or Peridot could offer a more scientific explanation, an answer made itself apparent in a different form altogether. Namely, through a large, misshapen hand that suddenly slapped hard against the cockpit’s glass.

“Ah! It’s a Gem mutant!” Steven gasped, aptly startled.

“They must have buried some prototypes along with the Cluster!” Peridot chimed in, opting to press the drill further as a result of this sudden assault.

“Fascinating…” Ford mused as another leg and arm mutant latched itself onto the drill. “These so-called ‘mutants’ are surprisingly durable to be able to survive in an environment as hostile as this. Then again, they are already the shattered remains of gemstones, so I suppose any more external pressure wouldn’t do much to grind them down any further than they already are.”

“W-we don’t need to grind them down,” Peridot growled as she pressed a large button on the drill’s console. “We need to GET THEM OFF OUR DRILL!”

In response to the green Gem’s input, the drill’s wired external camera turned on, allowing the group to see exactly what was besetting their machine. Sure enough, a sizable handful of various Gem mutants had found their way to the drill and were clinging onto it tightly, trying their hardest to beat and tear their way inside it. “Pearl didn’t think it was necessary,” Peridot smirked, pulling out, of all things, a retro video game controller, which she proceeded to hand off to Steven. “But I never leave home without a blast canon.”

With another press of a button, Peridot managed to sync the controller up to the monitor showing off the mutants skittering atop the cockpit, offering crosshairs as an aiming guide for the canon that also rested on it. “Oo! That one! Shoot that one first!” Mabel exclaimed, pointing at one mutant that was starting to get far too close to the camera for comfort. Steven did so, easily getting the hang of the game-like controls to take aim and fire at not just the first mutant, but several others in quick succession. The canon wasn’t quite powerful enough to poof the mutants entirely, but it was enough to blast them clean off the drill, sending them flying out into the vast layer of peridotite all around them until thy were out of sight altogether.

While Mabel was all but completely caught up in the excitement of defending the drill from the potential harm the mutants could cause it, Steven didn’t quite share the sentiment, especially as he watched quite a few of them go flying. He understood well that they couldn’t very well let these mutants impair their path to the Cluster, but even still, he couldn’t shake the thought that these monsters had once been Gems themselves. They had once been like Garnet, Amethyst, Pearl, Peridot; they had been more than the mindless, broken, muddled states they had been reduced to now. Which was why the more of them he unintentionally hurt, the more guilty about it he steadily started to feel.

“S-something isn’t right about this…” Steven finally voiced his concerns as he lowered the controller somewhat.

“Then use the d-pad,” Peridot suggested obliviously.

“Or better yet,” Ford grinned as he hovered a finger over yet another one of the console’s buttons. “Use this!”

The moment the author pressed that button, the drill’s entire exterior illuminated itself in what almost appeared to be a burst of blinding lightning. The shock was more than enough to not only stun the attacking mutants, but completely destabilize their messily-cobbled forms, ending the assault altogether as the remaining shards were lost to the mantle entirely.

“W-what was that?!” Peridot asked, looking to the author completely dumbfounded. “And when did you add it to the drill!”

“Oh, its nothing too special, just a simple destabilizing hyperfield,” Ford explained proudly. “Designed it myself when I realized that the likelihood of our trip down here being completely uneventful was extremely low.”

“Hmph, showoff,” Peridot grumbled. “Just for the record, I-I could have designed something like that too! Not that we even needed it since my blast canon worked just as well in getting rid of those grotesque pests…”

“T-they’re not grotesque!” Steven suddenly interjected firmly. “They’re just… they’re… augh!” Frustrated, the young Gem leaned back in his seat, briefly meeting Mabel’s worried glance before he continued. “We can’t just leave their Gems out there. They’re going to form again later and they’ll still be just as lost and confused as before. If I could just bubble them, then they’d be safe!”

“Aw, Steven…” Mabel glanced aside with growing guilt herself at this. “I… didn’t really think of those guys like that until now… I guess they are sorta Gems too. Which means we should do something to try to help them! It’s only fair, right?”

“There is no helping them,” Peridot shook her head solemnly. “They’re too broken. The beings who used to be in those shards are so shattered, they don’t know who they are or what’s happening around them. They just seek out other Gems, looking for the missing pieces of themselves. Trying to make themselves whole.”

A beat of silence passed as yet another random mutant fell upon the drill, only for the destabilizing hyperfield to blast its twisted, mangled form out of existence altogether. “These early experiments only combine two or three shards,” Peridot continued, her tone still gravely serious. “The Cluster will be a billion times bigger. An inseparable fusion capable of destroying worlds, starting with this one.”

“Which is why we have no choice,” Ford added just as sternly. “We have to destroy it before it destroys us.”

Upon hearing this, Steven’s heart sank just as much as his stomach already had over their grim mission. In many ways, the Cluster was just like those poor, miserable mutants, only on a much grander, even more horrific scale. There was practically no telling just how many Gem shards it could be composed of, each of them forced together against their will, to become something that none of them had any sort of choice or cognizance in whatsoever. The entire concept was so despicable and heartbreaking that it nearly made the young Gem sick, or at least it would have if the sudden aggressive rumbling from the drill wasn’t already doing a good enough job of that on its own.

“We’re hitting some denser rock!” Peridot called as the magma began to give way to darkened stone once more. “This is it!”

The entire group essentially held their collective breath as the drill suddenly burst through yet another layer, this time emerging into what almost appeared to be a surprisingly empty space. Fortunately, the drill was equipped with an overhead light, allowing the group within to exactly where they had ended up. “Recovery depth achieved,” Peridot announced, her voice surprisingly quiet, lest she stir up what was lurking right below them. “T-target found.”

“U-unbelievable…” Ford whispered in just as much awe as the green Gem was upon looking to the vast expanse down below them.

“Whoa…” was all Mabel could utter, at a rare loss for words as she stared down at it as well.

“I-is that…?” Steven trailed off, unable to even say the thought that Peridot finished for him.

“The Cluster.”

Out of all of the things the collective group expected the Cluster to be, the one thing they didn’t anticipate was that it would be, of all things, hauntingly beautiful. And indeed it was, a massive, sprawling sphere that stretched so far across the immense lower cavern it had been tucked away in that its end and beginning could not even be seen. Sure enough, its form was composed of so many gem shards of all shapes, sizes, and colors, that one could not even begin to fathom counting them all. Millions upon millions of the shattered pieces had been stacked together in untold layers, creating a shimmering masterpiece of untapped destruction, resting right below a thin layer of iridescent water meant to maintain its momentous form.

However, for as awestruck as the group in the drill was by its surprising radiance, their amazement was ultimately short lived. A brutal tremor echoed through the cavern, rippling the water enshrouding the Cluster and stirring the drill up quite a bit as it hung desperately onto the cave’s ceiling. “Ah! W-what’s happening!?” Mabel cried, more or less clinging onto Ford’s lab coat to avoid being tossed to the cockpit’s floor.

She was answered with yet another resounding quake, by far the most violent yet as the Cluster itself finally began to take on some form of movement. The forced fusion let out a fledgling high-pitched whine, light beginning to burst from it in the form of dozens of outstretched ghostlike hands. The incorporeal appendages continually collapsed against each other, forming in and out of each other all across the Cluster’s surface. All signs that it was beginning to take on its whole new twisted existence all on its own, just as Homeworld had intended it to do from the very start.

“W-we’re too late!” Peridot gasped in apt horror as the drill itself began to blare out several warning alarms. “It’s taking form!” And sure enough, it was as the Cluster’s steadily forming hands began to reach up towards the only thing it could: the drill itself. The ghostly mass ascended upward rapidly, intent on converging in on the drill and no doubt tearing it, and everyone inside of it, from the outside in. “Steven, Mabel,” Peridot turned to the kids, tears starting to well up in her eyes once more. “I-I’m sorry I couldn’t save you or the billions of other lifeforms who matter far, far less to me. Oh, and Ford too, I guess.” Despite the mortal danger they were all in, the author still spared the green Gem a critical glance at this last minute dig, one that she largely ignored amidst her own immense terror. “Do you have any last words?!”

Steven was the first to act on this request, not hesitating to engulf the panicking green Gem in a comforting embrace, one that Mabel was quick to join in one. One that, for all they knew, could very well be their very last. “We love you, Peridot!” Steven cried just as earnestly.

“W-wow,” Peridot sniffled weakly. “Thanks.”

“G-Grunkle Ford?” Mabel pouted fearfully as she pulled away from the green Gem to seek comfort from the author instead. “W-what are we gonna do? W-we can’t just---this can’t be it! I-I’ll never get to see Waddles, or Grunkle Stan, o-or… or Dipper ever again and I-I never got to say goodbye to any of them! Grunkle Ford, please,” She was sobbing outright by this point, essentially curled up in her uncle’s lap as the drill continued to rattle, heralding their oncoming demise but she hardly cared when she thought about everything that could so quickly, so easily come to an end in just a few short, simple seconds. “T-this can’t be the end…”

For a moment, the author was taken aback, unsure of how to respond to such an immense outpouring of grief and fear. But all it took was one more look at his niece’s distraught, pleading expression for Ford to know exactly what to do and say to drive that grief and fear away and replace it with the usual reassuring hopefulness that belonged there instead. “A-and it won’t be,” the author said, his tone gentle at first as he lifted Mabel’s gaze up to meet his, softly thumbing one of her many tears away. “Not as long as I have anything to do about it.” With a newfound burst of resolve, Ford turned back towards the drill’s console, taking over where Peridot had left off amidst her own miserable mire. “After all, I didn’t face certain death several times over in several different galaxies to go out to something like this.”

The green Gem balked out of her own revere at this, looking to the author in apt confusion. “W-what are you-”

Before Peridot could even finish her question, the drill’s exterior lit up, the destabilization hyperfield glowing brighter and stronger than ever before just as the Cluster’s many tendrils began to strike it. The forced fusion let out a sharp, mangled cry of apparent agony, the hundreds of hands losing their shape as they slammed back down towards their source. “T-that actually worked?” Ford wondered aloud as the Cluster seemed to calm down for a brief moment. He quickly, recanted however, upon noticing the amazed, grateful look Mabel was sending his way. “Oh! I mean, o-of course it worked! Just as intended, as always. Heh.”

“I-it… really did!” Peridot shook her head as she glanced over the drill’s monitors. “After a hit like that, the Cluster’s now has to struggle to take its form! This means we still have time. We still have a chance!”

By now, both Ford and Peridot were working in quick conjunction, their hands practically flying over the drill’s controls as they worked to position it just right to get the job done. It took a bit of doing, but soon enough, they had managed to position the drill high above the Cluster’s center, its tip already whirling and ready to rip its target apart. “Now,” Ford began, moving his hand toward the button that would release the drill down onto its intended target. “It’s time to end this once and for-”

“Wait!” Steven’s sudden cry brought the entire cockpit to a complete standstill. The young Gem’s expression was fraught with dread and what almost appeared to be stressed exhaustion if the thin layer of sweat starting to bead across his forehead was anything to go off of. “P-Peridot, Mr. Ford, I… I don’t think we should hurt the Cluster! I don’t think it knows what it’s doing!”

“W-wha—no,” Ford shook his head sharply, refusing to listen to such a complaint with stakes as high as they were. “Steven, I’m sorry, but what would you have us do? Let this thing simply emerge and tear the Earth and everything on it apart from the inside out?!”

“N-no… but-”

“It doesn’t matter if the Cluster ‘knows’ what it’s doing,” Peridot agreed just as irresolutely. “It’s still going to do it.”

Without taking the time to hear any further deliberation on the matter, Ford and Peridot worked together to push the drill onward, sending its spinning tip plummeting fast down towards the Cluster itself. Once again, the massive fusion made another unsteady attempt at taking on its unknown form, its miasmic hands raising up towards the drill making a beeline towards it. Even despite the destabilization hyperfield, they didn’t retract this time either, instead persisting onward until they easily swallowed the drill entirely. The Cluster itself let out what seemed to be a pained wail as soon as they touched the electric field, but it was only drowned out by the unified cries of terror coming from inside the drill itself. From the moment it made contact with the Cluster, the entire machine had begun shaking so rapidly and aggressively that it felt as though it was going to fall apart at the seams, a terrifying sensation that only seemed to grow as the massive fusion’s fledgling form continued to eclipse them completely.

“T-the destabilizer!” Peridot gasped, realizing that the shield was doing relatively little to ward the Cluster off. “It’s not working anymore!”

“We won’t need it to work,” Ford hissed through gritted teeth as he pressed the drill further down, despite the heavy resistance from the Cluster itself. “N-not once we make it down… here!” With one final push, the drill’s tip finally made contact with the gem shards that composed the Cluster itself. The immediate impact elicited another intense, unearthly scream from the massive fusion, one that only continued as the drill began to bear down upon it, grinding up several of the shards that composed its surface into nothing at all.

Amidst the initial chaos of the drill’s touchdown, Mabel was the first to glance away from the very meager starting progress they were making and instead glance over at Steven upon hearing him let out a sudden low groan of apparent pain. “S-Steven?!” she gasped, her eyes wide as she took in the sight of the young Gem huddled over in his seat, his face pressed tightly into his hands as he continued moaning softly. “W-what’s wrong?! What is it!?”

“Is the increased vibration causing damage to your head holes?” Peridot asked, equally as concerned upon noticing Steven’s obviously poor condition.

“Are you having trouble breathing?” Ford pressed, joining in on the shared sense of alarm. “Because I added drop down oxygen masks for just such an occasion!”

“N-no…” Steven countered, weakly pushing his oxygen mask away as it fell from overhead. “I-I don’t know, I just-”

“We’re not even piercing the crust yet!” Peridot interupted urgently. “We need to increase power, b-but there’s no doubt it’ll take a toll on the drill, and by extension, us. Are you going to be ok?”

“Y-yeah,” Steven stammered, forcing out a deep breath as Mabel helped him sit up properly. “Yes. I think its just the noise. K-keep going.”

The green Gem sent him another worried look, but ultimately nodded in acceptance. “Affirmative. Activating triple tip penetration mode!”

At thus, sure enough,, the singular drill split up and out into three different injector heads, each of them working equally as hard against the Cluster in the hopes of breaking past its surface to destroy what lay deeper within. Paired with the still quite prevalent destabilization hyperfield, the Cluster’s formation was all but forced back, its ghostly arms retreating as its unintelligible cries began to die out. Still, its overall suffering was far from over, a fact that only Steven was really clued into amidst his own continuing duress. For as he kept his somewhat blurry gaze trained on the cockpit’s dark floor, he gasped in quiet shock when it suddenly seemed to blink out of existence entirely. In its place, an endless glowing void stretched out beneath him, thousands upon thousands of agonized, ghoulish faces rising up from the ether through it. They all wailed in unified anguish, almost as if they were in some sort of twisted harmony with the Cluster itself as they surrounded him, converged upon him, overwhelmed him in just about every way possible until—

A sudden sharp snap brought him back to reality. The drill took a violent swing to the right, slamming its passenger’s hard against one another as they looked out to see exactly what had happened. One of the drill’s three heads had broken off, unable to withstand the immense amounts of pressure being pushed upon it. It quickly spiraled easily out of control as it whirled away from the drill, threatening to smash back into it as it twisted and turned about in every direction.

“Ah! Runaway drill!” Mabel cried in alarm, especially as the cockpit shifted its position once again.

“N-not a problem!” Peridot assured, struggling to maintain the drill’s controls to evade the broken head. “Just… gotta… keep balance!”

Just as the missing drill head lost its momentum and collapsed, the main cockpit finally steadied itself as its two remaining tips spread out wide to keep it standing. While Mabel clung tightly onto her seat just to stay upright amidst the drill’s unsteady rocking and tilting, Steven was once again preoccupied with indistinguishable ghostly faces swirling all around him, to the point that they obscured Peridot, Mabel, and Ford entirely. As the Cluster’s already voluminous groaning heightened into another full on scream, one of those many faces turned directly to the frightened young Gem, rushing for him at full, horrifying speed.

And though it never hit him, Steven flinched back with a fearful cry as though it had, accidentally striking both Mabel and Peridot in the process. “Steven?!” Mabel gripped his shoulder, aptly concerned, especially when she noticed just how heavily he was breathing. “A-are you ok?!”

“N-no!” the young Gem shook his head truthfully, looking to her as he gripped her arms desperately for some much-needed support. “There’s so many of them… a-and it’s so much, a-and I don’t know-”

“Don’t know what?” Mabel asked, not even noticing just how red her cheeks were flushing as a result of Steven’s tight hold on her. “What are you talking about?”

The young Gem’s brow furrowed at this, baffled as he watched her flicker in and out of his vision, replaced by the endless barrage of unknowable, agonized faces over and over and over again. “Y-you… you don’t see them…?”

Before Mabel could ask him for any further clarification, the drill jolted once more, practically throwing everyone inside it forward as the result of yet another one of its heads snapping off. Without any additional support, the sole remaining drill was completely unbalanced as it wobbled to and fro, barely able to remain standing on its own, much less continue wearing down the Cluster, a mission that it had barely made any headway on to begin with.

“N-no!” Ford shouted, gripping the drill’s wavering controls tighter than ever before. “Without the auxiliary drills, it won’t be able to hold out much longer! We need to-” The author was sharply cut off as the drill abruptly spun about, whipping the entire group back into their seats and into each other hard. The hard blow was enough to elicit yet another pained cry out of Steven as he gripped both his head and his stomach, both of which felt as though they had been pierced by some sort of unknown blinding, burning force that he could barely even begin to comprehend.

“Augh!” the young Gem finally shouted, unable to bear it anymore. “I-I don’t understand what’s happening!”

“W-what’s wrong?” Peridot asked, deeply worried by this point, a worry that Mabel and Ford also shared.

“I-I don’t know!” Steven shook his head. By this point, the pain had grown so intense that it had practically driven him to tears, his breathing short and shallow as his mind and heart both raced at what felt like a mile a second. As opposed to any sort of external pain, the young Gem knew this was solely internal, but he hadn’t the faintest idea as to where any of it was coming from. In fact, the only things he were aware of at that moment were the trio of voices all fearfully shouting his name, his own gemstone dully glowing underneath his shirt, and the still persistent rising rain of faces, all of which were all too quickly dragging him into the very same emptiness they were falling into.

“…st…m… nee… to… want… orm…”

Steven flinched as he opened his eyes once again, only to find that the drill itself seemed to have been swallowed up that same blank darkness he had steadily been drifting away into. And even more concerning, was the fact that his fellow passengers seemed to be just as gone as the drill itself was.

“P-Peridot?” Steven called, dumbfounded as he realized even the seat had disappeared from underneath him, essentially leaving him floating freely in the darkness. “Mr. Ford? Mabel?!”

The young Gem received no response from any of them. Instead, he was met with a few small specks of light popping up within the darkness around him. And with those specks, came voices so soft and so small that they were barely even distinguishable as they echoed through the now starry void. Yet each of them, as distant and wavering as they were, all seemed to faintly be whispering the same unified, yet broken chain of thought together.

“Must… have to… want to… need to… have to…”

Steven stilled, poising himself to better hear these strange mutterings, until he noticed one of the specks of light starting to slowly drift towards him. Upon a closer look at the sparkling speck, he quickly realized exactly what it was: a Gem shard, completely broken and jagged, yet a spark of light and life, however small, still seemed to persist within it as its tiny voice joined in the chorus of countless others.

“Want to… need to… want to…”

“You… want to?” Steven frowned, carefully cupping his hands underneath the floating shard. “Want to… what?”

Suddenly, the once-whispering voices boomed, their voices blasting a blinding light through the void as they all cried out the only thought, the only desire they were all forced to share.

“FORM!”

Practically defended by this brutal proclamation, Steven let out a pained cry as he rushed to cover his hears from the now rushing, frantic crowd of voices and flickering shards all around him. Shards that were all clearly struggling to escape in some way, shape, or namely, form.

“I-it’s the Cluster…” Steven gasped, his eyes widening in realization as he looked throughout the broken void. “I’m talking to the Cluster?! But… how did I get inside your brain? …Brains?”

“Have to… Want to… Need to… Must!” The Cluster’s unified chants began to grow more frantic as light pulsated through their singular, yet shattered mindscape once more. Steven gasped as its entire being rumbled, clearly a sign that the massive fusion was on the verge of breaking free from itself, and from the Earth, once and for all.

“Wait!” he pleaded, desperate and afraid. “Please, don’t take form!”

Even so, the Cluster hardly heeded him, desperate and afraid itself as it persisted in its one sole yet separate instinct. “Form… form. Form! FORM! WANT FORM! WANT FORM!

FORM!”

Unbeknownst to the young Gem, outside of the Cluster’s immense hive mind, the massive fusion was indeed acting upon that instinct as its entire being rippled and illuminated once more. The drill had all but collapsed against it, no longer to maintain its position, not that it would have helped much anyway if it could. Even so, Ford and Peridot desperately worked to bring it back online, all while Mabel tended to Steven, who had abruptly, horrifyingly slipped into unconsciousness quite some time ago.

“Steven!” she shook him once more, practically pleading with the listless young Gem at this point. “C’mon, you gotta snap out of it! We need you! I-I-” she hesitated, slowly taking his hand and gripping it tight as she pulled it close to her. “I need you, please. You gotta come back to us!”

“W-what’s wrong with him!?” Peridot asked, peering past the drill’s controls for the briefest of moments. “Why isn’t he waking up?!”

“His vitals all seem to be just fine!” Ford shook his head, recalling the brief check he had just taken on the young Gem moments ago. “It doesn’t make any sense!”

“M-maybe its some sorta Gem thing!” Mabel vouched, even though she really had no idea herself. “H-he said he was… I dunno, seeing something, something none of the rest of us could. I don’t know what that means, but… but…” She trailed off, breaking out into a small, sharp gasp as she noticed his gemstone glowing ever so slightly under his shirt. “W-what if he’s doing something to help!?”

“Help what?” Peridot asked, not following.

“Us! The Earth! Everything!” Mabel exclaimed. “He has all these weird sorta dreamy powers, like how he talked to Lapis that one time or how he got into one of those watermelon guys to help the Gems and Dipper just a little while ago! M-maybe he’s using those now to do something to stop the Cluster!”

“Or more likely, the severe stress of the situation at hand got the better of him and overwhelmed him,” Ford said, looking to his niece sympathetically. “Mabel, I’m sorry, but there’s simply no way to know-”

“No,” Mabel cut him off sharply, her tone and manner quite serious as she looked between the doubtful pair. “In case you guys haven’t noticed, we’re kinda stuck down here without any other choices to get us out. Which is why I choose to trust Steven. After all,” she smiled briefly down at the unconscious young Gem beside her, squeezing his hand just a bit tighter at this. “He’s never steered me wrong before.”

Though Ford and Peridot both still had their reservations about such a risky course of action, ultimately, they had no choice but to go along with it. Largely since, no matter what the tried, the drill simply refused to pick itself back up again. Fortunately though, the Cluster seemed to retreat back into itself for yet another brief spell, though if its continuous pulsating and nearly endless shrieks were anything to go off of, it wasn’t about to stay dormant for too much longer. A fearful fact that Steven knew all too well as he continued to try and make his own case from within it.

“Um, m-maybe instead of forming you could do something else?” he asked, hopeful, though the suggestion was quickly shot down.

“FORM!” the Cluster cried, practically demanding it of both the young Gem and of itself.

“B-boy,” Steven breathed out a forced laugh, knowing that it was really the most he could do, given the circumstances. “You’ve sure got the one-trackiest mind I’ve ever met…”

“Need form!” the Cluster yelled once more, though their tune soon began to calm into something else. Something… sadder, much to Steven’s surprise. “…To be whole…”

“…Whole?” Steven asked softly, remembering what Peridot had said earlier. These countless pieces of Gems were like missing pieces, pieces that had lost themselves in the process. It was understandable, for them to feel so lost, to need some sort of way to bring the pieces of themselves back together again, even if the pieces they were now connected to weren’t even their own.

“Have to…” the Cluster’s many voices wavered almost miserably, its shimmering shards flickering low and mournful at what they knew they could never really attain, even if they did successfully form. That wholeness, the sense of being something once more, that they had all lost so very long ago.

“I… think I get it…” Steven nodded calmly. “You just wanna find the rest of your gems… B-but forming won’t help you find the rest of yourselves! You’ll just destroy the Earth!”

A ripple of newfound panic seemed to wash over the Cluster at this, frantic over the thought of the destruction they’d all be unwittingly forced to cause to the planet that almost all of their pieces, when they had been together, had once stood to fight for. “No! No! No! No!”

“B-but if you wanna find other Gems,” Steven thought and acted quickly, finding a much-needed solution simply by looking across the vast collection of shards all around him. “There’s so many of you right here! Look!” Carefully, the young Gem guided one nearby shard to float next to another, both of them igniting in a soft glow as they came to hover close to each other. “Shard, meet shard!”

“Have to…” one of the shards whispered weakly, though surprisingly enough, its partner offered an equally gentle response.

“Want to…”

“See?” Steven smiled, allayed at such a simple, yet surprisingly sweet interaction. “You already have so much to talk about!”

At this, the various shards of the Cluster lit up once more, though in a much different sort of way this time. For instead of desperately, violently seeking to gain their elusive form, they instead took a different approach, coming together and greeting each other in short, simple conversations. The most any of them could really offer each other was a brief hello, but it was more than enough to create the connections that these once broken, abandoned shards needed to feel like they were part of something, to feel like they were finally whole once more.

“This is great!” Steven laughed happily, engulfed in the warm glow of newly-formed bonds the Cluster was now made up of. “You don’t even need to form! You can just stay here.”

The Cluster let out a unified contented hum at this, it’s quiet, yet cordial conversations continuing all the while. “Want to stay…” With this shared desire rising up amongst the fusion’s countless shards, links of soft, golden light began to connect them to each other, forming the network that was indeed steadily working to bring them all together. And for a moment, it seemed as though, just as the Cluster was fully starting to accept this network of support and love and fulfillment, it was ready and willing to leave its anxious attempts to take its form by the wayside. To fade into the darkness and keep to themselves, spending the rest of time getting to know each other.

Or at least, that’s what they would have done if they had actually been able.

The dimming void suddenly flashed starkly back to life, completely rattled by the absolute scream of anguish the Cluster collectively let out. “Can’t stop! Going to form! Can’t stop! Going to form! Help! Help! HELP!”

“Ah!” Steven gasped, just as frantic as the Cluster was as he realized it couldn’t help itself. Like all Gems, it was in the fusion’s nature to form, whether it wanted to or not. Unless… “W-wait! It’s ok! If I just bubble you, you won’t have to come out. It’ll keep you safe! Here, look, like this!” Acting quickly, the young Gem formed a sturdy pink bubble around the nearest gem shard, safely securing it before moving onto several others in rapid, hectic succession. “I can bubble you! And I can bubble you! And I can bubble you! A-and that makes five out of… oh geez…” Steven’s hopeful smile quickly faded as realized just how many shards he’d have to bubble and just how little time he had to do so as the Cluster continued crying out in shared fear over its very-near formation. “I’m sorry! I can’t do it alone!”

The Cluster didn’t answer as its uproarious cries continued, the force of its violent, unwanted formation practically pushing the young Gem out of its shared mindscape altogether. The last thing Steven saw or heard from it were its flashing shards and its terrified screams, all of them desperately trying to do everything they could to keep themselves from destroying the Earth and failing fast.

And just like that, the next thing Steven knew, he was back suddenly back within the darkness of the drill’s cockpit, though still far from being anywhere close to out of danger yet. He darted upright with a sharp gasp, startling Mabel, Ford, and Peridot alike in the process as he all but ignored them to glance out the nearby window. Sure enough, the Cluster’s ghostly hands were taking shape, becoming much more tangible than ever before as its form drew ever closer to materializing, despite its best efforts and struggles to repress itself.

“S-Steven!” Mabel exclaimed in apt surprise at the young Gem’s quick recovery. “Are you o-”

“It doesn’t wanna form!” Steven instantly interupted, turning to the trio urgently.

“What?” all three of them asked in absolutely confused unison.

“The Cluster! It doesn’t want to destroy the Earth!” the young Gem reiterated. “It wants to stay here! B-but it can’t stop itself! We gotta put it in a bubble!”

“Bubble it?” Ford asked, absolutely baffled by the thought.

“As if!” Peridot scoffed. “Just look at it! There’s no way!”

“W-well, what if you and Peri work together to do it, Steven?” Mabel suggested, even if her tone lacked any real conviction behind the idea. “Maybe that’ll be enough to-”

“Enough to do basically nothing!” Peridot countered, shaking her head. “We’d need the power of at least a hundred Gems, if not more, to even begin to-”

“Wait,” Ford interjected, his eyes wide as he glanced out the nearby window to the Cluster once more. “Look.”

The harsh glow enveloping the massive fusion had dulled somewhat, replaced by a handful of small, colorful bubbles popping up across its entire surface. Their emergence seemed to be random, but steady, with more and more shards joining in on sealing themselves away, all with the same exact mission in mind: to keep themselves from forming.

“T-they’re bubbling each other!” Steven exclaimed with a growing, amazed smile.

“Whoa!” Mabel gasped, equally as impressed as they all watched more and more bubbles appear. “Talk about teamwork!”

Steven didn’t hesitate to join in on this teamwork, reaching down to the floor of the cockpit as he closed his eyes in resolved concentration. “I’ve got you,” he reassured the Cluster firmly as he added his power onto theirs’. “You’ve got this! We’ve all got… each other!”

While the individual shards of the Cluster weren’t quite strong enough to bubble their entire mass on their own, the help and support Steven was offering them was more than enough to help them bridge that gap. In conjunction with the young Gem, the various bubbles of the scattered shards joined together, adding up to create one large, all-encompassing bubble that succeeded in covering the Cluster entirely. And, with this protective barrier in place, the massive fusion went still and silent, its suffering finally over and the planet finally, finally safe.

***

Considering the immense damage the drill had sustained, it took it quite a while to scale up through the various layers of the earth it had plunged through before. Still, the trip back to the surface was by far a jovial one, filled with immense relief and celebration as the group left the now-dormant Cluster behind. And, the moment the drill breached the ground and made it back to the barnyard, it collapsed, with its exhausted, yet happy passengers piling out of it not too soon after.

“You did it!” Peridot proclaimed brightly, immediately engulfing Steven in a tight hug the moment he regained his footing.

“We did it together,” Steven corrected with a warm laugh as he returned the green Gem’s hug.

“And it was great!” Mabel chimed in, adding herself onto the cheerful pile.

“Hm…” Ford mused to himself, glancing back down into the hole the drill had just emerged from. “And it was surprisingly… easy at that. I’m not used to situations like this going so… relatively smoothly. Are we positive that bubble is really going to be enough to contain the Cluster on a long-term basis?”

“Hmph, if you’re asking a question like that, then clearly you don’t know the first thing about Gems,” Peridot remarked with a hint of a wry, teasing grin. “Our bubbles are made to last. It would take a positively titanic amount of force to pop it, especially one that massive.”

“So… we’re safe?” Mabel asked, hopeful.

“Yes,” Peridot nodded confidently. “We’re safe.”

“And so is the Cluster…” Steven said, smiling down at the ground beneath him. Or rather, at the now peacefully resting fusion buried far, far below him.

The ongoing round of levity was soon interrupted, however, by the loud honk from the approaching car driving up the nearby hill. Stan and the Gems emerged from the car first, a little weary, but clearly no worse for wear after the arduous battle they had just taken part in. Dipper stepped out of the vehicle a bit more slowly, all the while trying to tote the still-unconscious Lapis out along with him, though he wasn’t quite well-suited to carry her, especially given his still-prevalent injuries. Which was why Garnet readily stepped in, much more easily taking a careful hold of the blue Gem instead.

“Don’t worry,” she said, offering Dipper a kind smile. “I’ve got her.”

“Thanks,” Dipper returned her grin, allowing himself yet another small sigh of relief as he kept his sights on Lapis all the while. In many ways, he was still in a sense of disbelief that she was back, but sure enough, he had lingered close to her the entire drive home, a sentiment he intended to continue until the moment the blue Gem finally awakened.

“Guys!” Steven exclaimed, excitedly running up to the group with Mabel rushing not too far behind after him. “You’re back! A-and you have Lapis!” The young Gem’s smile widened even more upon seeing the listless blue Gem resting in Garnet’s arms. “Is she ok?”

“She’ll be fine,” the Gem leader assured, having already offered the same promise to Dipper several times over since they had left the island.

“See, bro-bro?” Mabel smirked, elbowing her brother lightly. “I told ya that if there was anybody who’d be able to save her, it’d be you! And I was right, just like I always am!”

“Yeah,” Dipper chuckled warmly. “I guess you were. And you, Steven,” he turned to the young Gem, absolutely amazed. “I still can’t believe what you pulled off back on the island with that watermelon you. Seriously, that was so bizarre and so cool!”

“Not as cool as what you did to help Lapis!” Steven chimed in just as enthusiastically. “Oh, by the way, that reminds me.” The young Gem suddenly stepped forward, focusing in on the quite-noticeable bruise Dipper had sustained on his cheek one of the several times Malachite had violently knocked him back. Without any warning, Steven landed a small, brief healing kiss upon it, clearing the injury completely. “That’s been bugging me ever since we were back on the island. Remind me to heal up the rest later, ok?”

For a moment, the most Dipper could do was stare at the young Gem in shock at this, unable to hid the rush of red filling his how healed face in light of what he’d just done. “Y-yeah… o-ok…”

“Y-you all look happy,” Pearl interjected somewhat anxiously as she looked to both Steven and Mabel, as well as Peridot and Ford as they came over to join the group. “Did you destroy the Cluster?!”

“Er… not exactly,” Peridot said, hands held behind her back.

“I talked to it,” Steven said simply.

“…What?”

“It doesn’t wanna destroy the Earth,” Steven explained. “It just wants company. And now it’s got like, a bajillion people! They’ll have lots of time to get to know each other now that they’re in a bubble!”

“Whoa, you bubbled it?” Amethyst asked, amazed. “How are you sure something like that’s even gonna hold against something that big?”

“That’s exactly what I’m still wondering…” Ford mused with a small frown. “But, if Steven is confident that this will be a permanent fix to this problem, then, I suppose I see no reason why the rest of us shouldn’t as well.”

“Well, I think its gonna work,” Mabel added with apt confidence. “After all, the Cluster is a total team player!”

“But I’m still confused,” Pearl shook her head incredulously. “How did you even manage to bubble that whole thing in the first place?”

“Let’s just say we had a little help…” Steven smiled, looking down to the ground once more. Far below which he knew the Cluster rested, where it remained, still buried and obscured, but existing in a much more mutual, contented state. Enveloped peacefully in a large bubble that would keep it contained, would keep its shards secured and the Earth safe. That would allow its once-lost, scattered, shattered pieces to find new parts of themselves. To bind new bonds that would never break and never leave them broken or alone ever again.

That would finally allow each and every one of them to become whole, together.

Next:

#jen writes #universe falls #steven universe #gravity falls #crossover au #in too deep #steven #mabel #peridot #ford #cluster #garnet #amethyst #pearl #dipper #keyword is cluster

[aceofstars16]

Trapped in the Past (Chapter 3)

Third Chapter of my Timetrapped AU inspired by @artsycrapfromsai!

When Mabel and Dipper fight over a time machine, they find themselves sent back thirty years in the past. Now it’s up to the younger versions of their great uncles to get them home.

Chapter 3 - Hide and Seek

Stan gets in over his head, and Ford second guesses Dipper's intentions for the umpteenth time. Meanwhile, Mabel has the scare of a lifetime and Dipper uncovers a secret about the Shack.

1 - 2 - 4 - 5 - 6 - 7

AO3

“So, Pinington, you got my money?”

Rico sat in his chair, looking relaxed with his feet propped up on the desk. But his eyes conveyed his calculating mind. The first time Stan had met him, he hadn’t thought much of the mob boss, but now he knew underestimating him was a big mistake. If he wanted to get out of this, he had to be smart. Luckily, he had learned quite a few tricks in that particular area over the years.

“Yes. And no. I know where to get it, but it’s not something to be rushed.” The lie slipped off of Stan’s tongue easily, though there was a knot in his stomach as he spoke. He could ignore that though, he had to if he wanted this to end well.

“That is not the correct answer.” Rico’s tone had taken on a deadly edge and Stan was glad he had brainstormed some ideas on the way over.

“What if I told you it would give you double what I owe?”

A quirked eyebrow. “I’d say you better not be pulling my leg.”

Holding up his hands, Stan grinned. “Would I lie to you?”

At that, Rico swung his legs off of the table and slammed them on the ground. In an instant he was right in front of Stan and it took all of Stan’s power not to flinch. “You already have, Pinington. I have no reason to trust your word. But maybe with a little persuasion…”

Something about Rico’s tone was different, almost humorous in a terrifyingly cold way.

“What are you getting at-” Then it struck him. Mabel. “If you touch one hair on her body, I will make sure you don’t see one penny of the money.” Stan didn’t even try to hide the growl in his voice. The thought of Rico even looking at Mabel made his blood boil. She was just a kid. A kid who was in danger now because of him. Darnit Stan, really screwed up this time.

A cruel laugh escaped Rico’s mouth and Stan couldn’t stop himself. He decked the mob boss right in his stupid face, only to freeze a second later at the sound of a gun being cocked.

“Oh Pinington, going soft, are we?” Rico stood up from when he had stumbled, a sadistic grin on his face. “Maybe I should take the girl as collateral, just until you get me my money…”

Panic gripped Stan’s chest. No, no, no, no, he could NOT let Rico near Mabel. Because he knew once you were in Rico’s grasp, there was no getting out of it. “I’ll get you your money. But if you even look at her, I will screw you over so hard you will regret it for the rest of your sorry life, got it?” Despite the overwhelming terror racing through his body, the words came out steady. Because he was not going to let anyone hurt Mabel. His mistakes were his own, he might have to pay for them one day, but Mabel deserved nothing of the sort.

A hand grasped Stan by the jaw and pulled him close, so all Stan could do was look at the bruise that was forming on Rico’s cheek. “You do not want to cross me, Pinington. Get me my money in twenty-four hours or else the girl is mine.”

For a moment, Stan just glared at Rico, wanting nothing more than to punch him again, but the pressure on his ribcage held him back. He didn’t exactly want to have a bullet rip through his body, so he resorted to simply glaring daggers at him.

Then he was flung to the ground.

“Get him out of here.”

Stan glared at Rico and didn’t stop until he was dragged away and thrown onto the concrete. Only when the door closed did worry spark in his chest. He really dug himself into a pit, but this time it wasn’t just his life on the line…No, this was not good.

-----

In and out. Each breath echoed around Mabel like a megaphone. Her heart raced in her chest, her arms shook even as she tried to stay still, to not make a single noise.

She had woken up to the realization that Stan wasn’t in the room – a terrifying reality that had sent her calling out for him, carefully opening the door and stepping out into the cool air to see if he was outside. At first there was nothing. And then a laugh that chilled her to the bone. All she saw of the man was a shadow.

“Looks like the little brat came out of hiding…too bad your bumbling friend isn’t here. And my orders said nothing about leaving you alone.”

That’s when she had run. Back to the room and into the first hiding place she had found – a large box which was thankfully empty.

And now she was trapped. Trying to keep her position hidden as she heard the door open and the man calling out in a giddy voice.

“Oh little brat! Come out come out wherever you are! Don’t worry, I won’t hurt you…I just want to have some fun.”

Shutting her eyes tight, Mabel begged anyone, anything, to help her. Something to distract the man, so she could run away, or so he would forget about her altogether. Anything. But there was only silence, more taunting as she heard the sound of boxes being pushed aside. A whimper grew in her chest and she tried her best to hold it back, but it slipped out.

“Oh, there you are.”

Heart racing, Mabel took a deep breath, trying to steel herself to fight, to punch and jab and then run as fast as she could.

One second.

Two seconds.

Another taunt.

A finger curling around the flap above her.

Deep breath.

Thunk.

“Why don’t you pick on someone your own size.”

Stan’s voice growled, and a sob of relief escaped Mabel’s mouth. Her entire body was shaking, her mind only half taking in the grunts and yells coming from outside her box. But then a shout more intense than the others broke through her shocked state, if only for a moment.

“If you ever come back, I’ll kill you!”

The absolute venom in Stan’s voice was jarring, but also reassuring. Because Stan had saved her.

“Mabel? Kiddo, you okay?”

The flap of the box had been lifted up and she caught sight of a bruise on his face and a cut above his eye. As she took it in, she realized if Stan hadn’t gotten out unscathed, then she wouldn’t have lasted a second.

“Grunkle Stan!” Mabel flung herself at him, not even registering that she had slipped up and called him her grunkle, not even thinking about how he barely knew her. All of that seemed miniscule compared to the fact that without him, something terrible would’ve happened.

Arms wrapped around her protectively. “I’m sorry, Mabel, I never should’ve…I-I’m so sorry.”

Mabel couldn’t respond, her throat was too tight, all that came out when she tried was a whimper, which resulted in Stan hugging her tighter. She could feel the tears welling up in her eyes and she buried her head in his jacket, trying to escape the absolute torrent of emotions that were racing through her mind. When she tried to tell herself that she was okay, she could practically hear the man’s voice again and she clung to Stan even tighter.

Then a hand started running through her hair, over and over again. Followed by Stan’s quiet reassurances. “I’ve got you now, you’re safe. I’ve got you.”

Squeezing her eyes even tighter, Mabel tried to listen to Stan, to believe it. But it didn’t feel all right. She wasn’t supposed to be here, she was supposed to be in Gravity Falls, hanging out with Dipper, having a fun summer. Not…not this.

A vibrating shook Mabel out of her shock and a second later she realized that it was coming from Stan’s chest. He was…humming. She couldn’t tell what song it was, - though occasionally an indiscernible word would escape his mouth - but it was something grounding, something for her to focus on. Minutes ticked by and slowly, Mabel found herself relaxing. Her body stopped its violent shaking, tears dried on her cheeks, her heart slowed to a normal speed. And as it all eased, she realized how exhausted she was, as if she had run for miles. Sleeping was the last thing she wanted to do, but with Stan right there maybe…maybe she could close her eyes, just for a second.

-----

The first thing Dipper noticed was how much his body hurt. Not from scratches or bruises though, no it was his muscles that were aching. Groaning, he blinked his eyes open, frowning at the unfamiliar roof above him. It wasn’t the attic. Had he fallen asleep in the parlor or- oh…right. The accident. Meeting the author. Looking for Mabel. It all came back to him and as it did so, despair washed over him. Mabel was still out there somewhere, but…would he ever find her?

With a sigh, Dipper turned his head and looked at the messy room, which was now considerably warmer than it was the first time he had entered it. There was no sign of Ford anywhere, which Dipper found disconcerting, because despite admiring the author, he did seem a little paranoid. Not to mention the fact that having someone else around reminded him that he wasn’t totally alone. But right now, alone is exactly what he felt.

Sitting up, he looked around before calling out. “Ford?”

No answer. Frowning, Dipper forced his muscles to move as he stood up and walked towards the kitchen.

“Ford?” He called out again.

Nothing.

Dipper walked all throughout the downstairs rooms, looking for any sign of Ford, but the house was eerily quiet. Upon reaching the bottom of the stairs, he couldn’t help but notice how they looked so different than he was used to. Sure, the overall appearance was the same, but there was a sheen on the steps, and the wood wasn’t drooping in the middle. That dent that him and Mabel had accidentally created while sliding down the steps on a cardboard strip was absent. And as he made his was up them, there was no familiar creak on the third step from the top.

Despite knowing that the likelihood of Ford being in the attic was low, Dipper couldn’t stop himself from stepping up to the door. For a moment he just looked at the handle, then he turned it.

Boxes. It was all he saw. That and papers, so many papers. Along with a lot of inventions that seemed to be discarded for one reason or another. Making his way through the mess, Dipper wondered where all of this had gone. Maybe Ford had left and taken it all with him? Or maybe Stan had stored it somewhere?

Stopping in the middle of the hoard, Dipper sat down and closed his eyes. Trying to imagine he wasn’t stuck in 1980 something, that instead, he was sitting on the floor while Mabel worked on her sticker collection. For a moment, it worked. The smell of the wood was almost the same, and the lack of splinters was different, but that one was a welcome difference. But then the winter wind blew against the window and a shiver ran up his spine. Once again, he was faced with the reality of his situation.

With a sigh, Dipper opened his eyes and looked around again. Part of him wanted to explore everything about this place. Who knew what kind of things he could find in this mess? But the other part of him was worried how Ford might react if he found him up here. And then his stomach growled.

Man, when was the last time he ate?

“I can always come back later…” Dipper said to himself, before scrambling to his feet and making his way back down the stairs.

“Ford?”

Still nothing, despite it being a good thirty minutes since he had woken up. Dipper frowned. Maybe Ford was outside?

“Nope.” As soon as he opened the door, Dipper was met with a chilly wind. And in the brief glimpse he saw of outside, all he could see was snow - it was obscuring every inch of the landscape. As he closed the door, he sighed. It might not be a terrible blizzard but no one would willingly go out in that.

Shaking his head, Dipper walked around the house again, not sure what he was supposed to do, especially when he didn’t see any sign of food in the kitchen – at least not in any of the places Stan normally kept food. Maybe he’d just have to wait it out. Ford had to show up at some point, right?

Then he saw it. Something that wasn’t quite right. Where the vending machine in the Mystery Shack had been was a bookshelf, but it wasn’t flat up against the wall. There was a crack behind it and it looked like there was something behind it?

Grabbing the bookshelf and pulling back as hard as he could, the crack grew bigger until it was large enough for him see that there was an entire room hidden behind it. Slipping through the gap, Dipper walked through the small hallway, down a set of stairs and was met with, an elevator?

“W…what?!?” Dipper stared at it, and the hallway. Had this been in the Shack the entire time? How in the world…? For a moment, he just tried to accept the fact that this must have been here the entire time he had been in Gravity Falls. But then another question grew in his mind. Where did it go?

Stepping inside, Dipper looked at the buttons, there were three. He tried the second one. For a moment, there was nothing, then the doors closed and it started descending, only to stop and open up to a door. A door with a keyhole in the middle. Reaching out, Dipper tried the handle, but it was locked.

“So much for that…” Despite the confusion that was racing through his mind, Dipper couldn’t help but also feel a hint of anticipation. Maybe he’d find some answers about Gravity Falls down here, or why Stan had a brother he never told him about.

Looking back at the buttons, Dipper pressed the bottom one. The door closed and as it lowered, excitement grew in his chest, but it was met with a hint of fear. There was no telling what was down here.

With a clatter, the elevator hit the bottom and the door opened, revealing a room of sorts. It almost looked like a lab. There were levers and machines taking up the entire space.

In awe, Dipper stepped forward, trying to take it all in. What in the word was all this stuff? Then he saw a window, and through it a large cavern. And in the middle was a…triangle? A huge triangle type structure with a circle in the middle. And as he looked at it, Dipper could swear something about it looked familiar…

“What are you doing down here?!?”

Ford’s voice echoed around the room and it was only then that Dipper saw the author, who had been half in shadows, sitting at a desk in the corner of the room. But now he was stalking forward, his eyes narrowed to slits.

“I-I, I was looking for you and I-I saw the bookshelf and there was a door behind it? And I-“

“You expect me to believe that?” Ford hissed, and Dipper found himself stumbling backward. He didn’t know Ford very well, but he thought maybe his hero wasn’t as bad as he first seemed. Now he wasn’t so sure.

“I-It’s the truth, I just, I didn’t know about the room and I just wanted to see what it was and-“ Dipper couldn’t get his thoughts out coherently, mostly because he was still trying to process it all and he wasn’t entirely sure what he thought of this hidden basement either.

“Get out, now!”

“But, what is-“

“NOW!”

Stumbling back into the elevator, Dipper quickly pressed the button, his heart racing as the door closed. The entire ride back to ground level took forever, or at least it seemed like it to him. As soon as the door slid open, he raced back out into what he knew as the gift shop, adrenaline and fear still racing through his body.

He half expected Ford to show up a second later telling him to leave the house all together, but there were no footsteps following him as he quickly made his way back up into the attic. He didn’t care if it was cold, it was the only place he could think of that might offer him some solace. And it would give him some space to think.

Sitting down on the wooden floor, Dipper took a deep breath, trying to calm his nerves and figure out what had just happened. Maybe the basement was supposed to be a secret or something? And maybe Ford didn’t like anyone going down there? That could be why Stan never seemed to mention it. Maybe he didn’t know about it either?

Closing his eyes for a second, Dipper tried to accept that Ford was just…very protective of whatever was down there. And it wasn’t like he knew Dipper that well, so he wouldn’t know what Dipper would think of it. Or what he might do with it. Even though he was more curious than anything.

The reasoning worked. Dipper’s heart slowed, his adrenaline died down, and all he was left with was a nagging feeling that he had seen something like the machine before. Maybe in the…journal!

Pulling the book out of his vest, Dipper quickly thumbed through the pages, not quite sure what he was looking for. Then he saw it. The page that looked like some sort of machine, but only part of it. And there in the corner was the edge of what looked like a triangle with a circle in the middle. It still didn’t answer the question of what it was though. He hadn’t been able to crack the code on the page and some of the pages beforehand were either torn or missing.

Flipping the journal a few more pages, he looked at his own additions to the book. Finding the next blank page and pulling out a pen from his vest, he started writing down everything that had happened. He found that writing things down sometimes helped him process them better than just thinking. Maybe it would help him figure out what the heck he was supposed to do now?

-----

“How could I have been so stupid!” Ford mumbled to himself after the elevator had closed. Bringing in a child that he knew nothing about? And now Dipper knew were the portal was! The kid could easily come back down again. He should’ve just shut the door when Dipper had shown up on his porch. As soon as the thought crossed his mind though, Ford felt a stab of shame in his chest. Leave a kid out in the cold? No…he should’ve called the police or something. Made sure Dipper was taken care of so he could worry about his own problems, not add another one on top of them.

Well, maybe he still could. He could just take Dipper into town. There had to be someone that would look after a kid and- no, that was idiotic. First, Ford didn’t have a car and it was freezing out so walking wasn’t really an option unless he wanted frostbite. Then there was the fact that Dipper claimed to be from a different time. That fell smack dab in the middle of Ford’s expertise. No one else would be able to get the kid home. Then again, in his current state, Ford wasn’t sure he had much of a shot at figuring out time travel but…

“Agh!” Ford yelled, banging the wall. He couldn’t deal with all of this right now. His mind felt like it was being pulled apart and his body had practically no energy. Of course everything just had to crumble when he had no one to turn to. Well, maybe one person. But so far that hadn’t gotten anywhere. Though, with this weather and the distance maybe the postcard hadn’t even made it to Stan yet. Or maybe the address Ma had wasn’t up to date. Or Stan might just ignore his request… There were too many uncertainties. Ford couldn’t lay all of his hopes on Stan showing up. Besides, he doubted Stan would know what to do with Dipper either…though at least then someone could keep an eye on the kid while he tried to figure out what to do.

Running a hand down his face, Ford sighed, trying to figure out what the heck he was supposed to do. With a glance at the room, he saw that everything was still in place. There wasn’t much more he could do down here, plus the voices were always louder near the portal and he was pretty sure they’d drive him crazy if he stayed here any longer.

The ride to ground level was as quiet as it could be, and Ford tried to figure out what he was going to say to Dipper. He wasn’t going to apologize; he hadn’t done anything wrong. It was Dipper who had stuck his nose where it didn’t belong, not him. Then again…the kid had looked quite scared. Maybe he would just warn him never to go down there again and then…

Swish. The door slid open and interrupted his thoughts. Sighing, Ford stepped out and made his way back to the front room, but there was no sign of Dipper. Okay, so maybe he had some more time to brainstorm what to do.

But as he walked around the house, Ford found that instead of thinking about what to say Dipper, he was starting to simply wonder where the kid was.

“Dipper?” Ford called out his name, but there was no response except a quiet laughing that was either in his head or the result of the wind outside.

Wait, outside? Surely Dipper would’ve have… Stumbling towards the door, Ford flung it open, only to be met with a gust of wind and snow.

“Dipper?!?” His voice didn’t carry at all in the storm, and he could barely see anything beyond the porch. There was no sign of footprints but with this wind they would have already blown away.

Oh goodness, if Dipper had run off in that…and all because Ford had yelled at him.

“Idiot.” Ford muttered to himself, while also reminding himself that he still needed to be careful. He couldn’t let his guard down but…that blizzard was in no way safe for anyone to be out in, especially not a kid.

Keep looking inside. That was the only thing that could calm Ford’s worries. Maybe Dipper had explored the house. Yes, that was probably what had happened. Trying to push away the nagging worry and guilt in his chest, Ford shut the door and made his way to the stairs. If the kid had explored the basement, it only seemed fair that he might explore the attic too.

As he opened the door, Ford was met with a mess he had totally forgotten about. Most of the papers had to do with studying Gravity Falls or uncomplete calculations. But a lot of the boxes contained things he didn’t like thinking about. Trinkets Ma sent him, old scrapbooks of when he was a kid, even a few film rolls. Anything that he didn’t want to be reminded of had been banished to the attic. And now he was looking at all of it again.

Trying not to pay attention to any of memorabilia, he stepped around a boxes and unused furniture, only stopping when he saw Dipper sitting on the floor, his head buried in a book. A really old book by the look of it, Ford wondered what it-

All thought died as Dipper readjusted the book and Ford caught sight of a six fingered hand on it.

“Where did you get that?!?”

Dipper jumped at his voice and the pen in his hand fell to the floor. Fumbling with the book, he brought it close to his chest. “I-I found it, in-in the woods.”

“Found it?” Ford felt the pocket in his coat where he had been keeping his remaining journal safe, only to freeze when he felt it. And then he saw the 3 scratched on the book in Dipper’s hand. “I put a secure mechanized lock in that tree. How did you-“

“In the future! It- I guess it malfunctioned or something, but I was hammering up signs for gru-uh…someone and I hit the metal tree and found it. And I uh…started reading it and the author, uh…you seemed to be the only person who actually noticed all of the strange things in Gravity Falls too.”

Dipper spoke so fast that Ford could barely understand what he was saying. Sometimes talking fast was a sign of lying but…not likely, unless someone was trained at it. “Let me see.” Ford held out his hand, knowing full well that if this was his journal from the future then it might be a little more worn. And as he accepted it from Dipper, he realized right away that it did feel different… And it certainly didn’t smell the greatest. It was possible that it had picked up some odd smells in the week it had been hidden, but that seemed unlikely.

Flipping through it, Ford noticed how the pages seemed to be older and more crinkled. And there were more stains in it than he remembered. Then he reached the end of what he had written and it flipped open to reveal a page covered in blue ink and sketches. What the…?

“You wrote it in my journal?” Ford couldn’t keep the annoyance out of his voice. This was his journal and Dipper had just…taken it as his own?!?

“I uh…I wanted to keep track of everything I saw and I thought since the journal already had so many notes in it, I could add my own…”

Ford frowned at the pages, not really happy with someone writing in his journal. But at the same time, he couldn’t help but remember when he was a kid and how he had taken notes all the time. Sometimes using paper that didn’t exactly belong to him.

“Sorry…”

As he looked up, Ford saw Dipper hugging his arms and he felt a small stab of annoyance, though he wasn’t sure if it was at Dipper or himself. At this point rationalizing was becoming harder than it should be. Shaking his head, he sighed.

“It…it’s fine.” Was is really fine? Honestly, Ford wasn’t sure, but right now he didn’t think yelling would help. That and he didn’t really have the energy to yell about it or dwell on it.

Then he heard a rumbling sound and saw Dipper looking at him in embarrassment.

Food. Right. That might be a good idea - for Dipper and himself. It would give him some well needed energy. Though he’d have to be careful to not eat too much or sit still too long. Food had a way of lulling anyone to sleep and he couldn’t let that happen to him. Not now.

“Come on, I think we could both use some sustenance, and maybe…” Ford looked at the book in his hands, before handing it back to Dipper. “We can discuss this a little more.”

“R-really?” The excitement on the kid’s face was slightly amusing and Ford felt the smallest smile trying to sneak its way onto his face.

“Really.”

#timestuck au #gravity falls #timetrapped au #dipper pines #mabel pines #stanley pines #stanford pines #pines family #rico #stan pines #ford pines #mullet stan #paranoid ford #gravity falls fanfiction #timestuck #timetrapped #my fics #my writing #gravity falls au

[gosecretscribbles]

MonthofMaybel2019 Week 4: Mabel’s Guide to Cryptid Families!

So I’ve never done this before, but I wrote it out like a transcript for an actual TV show.  Was kind of a fun experience?  (although formatting this thing was a nightmare and I couldn’t even copy over most of the formatting here @,@) Anyway I hope you like it!

Also these fics for the month of maybel are linked; it would help to read the one for week 2 about Anansi, but long story short, he’s a spider-person who wants to weave from a society where everybody’s a warrior.  He was an outcast, but helping his people win a series of contests against the Mantises meant that he’s not completely shunned anymore. 

Okay.  *Now* enjoy! INT. DIPPER AND MABEL'S ROOM – DAY

MABEL WEARS A HAND-KNITTED PINK SWEATER WITH FOUR HEARTS ON THE FRONT, EACH WITHIN ANOTHER.  MABEL STANDS IN FRONT OF A WALL PAPERED WITH BOY BANDZ POSTERS, PIG PICTURES, AND POSTERS FROM ANTARCTICA.  THE CORNER OF A MESSY DRESSER IS ON HER RIGHT, THE EDGE OF A WINDOW ON HER LEFT. 

MABEL Families come in many shapes and sizes, sometimes as small as Nana and Liro in Liro and Pugface, sometimes so big you have second-cousins you didn't even know about until you got your inheritance! 

Today we're going to take a closer look at some particularly unusual families – CRYPTIDS!!!

SWISH PAN – WINDOW ON MABEL'S LEFT

ANANSI STANDS ON THE WINDOWSILL FACING THE CAMERA.  THE BACKYARD IS VISIBLE THROUGH THE WINDOW.   A TERMITE MOUND STRUCTURE RISES IN THE FAR CORNER OF THE YARD, TEEMING WITH SPIDER-PEOPLE.

MABEL Please welcome our first guest, a seriously cute member of the Spider-People living in our backyard!  And ladies, he's single!

ANANSI (looking nervously at camera) Are you sure that's not an insect?  It has a very large black eye.

MABEL So, Anansi!  Tell us about your brother!

ANANSI (brightening) Oh! He's one of my people's finest warriors.  He can lift over a hundred times his own weight, run for hours without getting tired, and adjust his strategy in the middle of a battle.  Even after his legs were injured in the Challenge, many young warriors were seeking him out as a trainer – I could see him teaching them from here. 

MABEL What did you guys like to do together?

ANANSI Sparring, mostly!  Not that I was ever any good, but he was very patient and kept encouraging me to try again no matter how many times I fell down.  And I fell down a lot.  He always said that every warrior mattered.  But, well...I'm clearly never going to be a warrior now, with the Weaving, so I don't know, but he might be – oh!

SWISH PAN – WINDOW ON WALL TO RIGHT

A SLIGHTLY LARGER SPIDER-PERSON IS CLIMBING OVER THE SILL OF THE WINDOW.  HALFWAY UP HIS BODY TENSES THE MOMENT HE NOTICES THE CAMERA.

BROTHER An enemy insect!  Hya!

BROTHER HURLS A SLIM OBJECT STRAIGHT AT THE CAMERA LENS.  THE BEGINNING OF MABEL'S SHRIEK IS HEARD AS WHAT IS CLEARLY A SPEAR STRIKES THE LENS.

STATIC

CUT TO FIRST WINDOW

ANANSI AND BROTHER STAND ON THE FIRST WINDOW SILL, MOUND STILL IN THE BACKGROUND.  ANANSI IS ON THE LEFT AND BROTHER IS ON THE RIGHT.  THEY STAND SEVERAL INCHES APART, BOTH SQUARELY FACING THE CAMERA.  THERE IS A SLIGHT CRACK IN THE UPPER LEFT CORNER OF THE LENS.  ANANSI'S ARMS ARE PULLED IN AND HE FIDGETS SLIGHTLY, CLEARLY NERVOUS.  HIS EYES MEET THE CAMERA BUT KEEP FLICKERING AWAY.  BROTHER'S ARMS ARE RELAXED, YET HIS POSTURE CONVEYS PREDATORY STRENGTH AND GRACE.  HIS GAZE IS STEADY.

BROTHER Are you sure that is not an insect?

MABEL Anansi was just telling us about how you two spent time together!  Do you have any embarrassing spiderbro stories to share with us?

BROTHER (stoically) My brother is not an embarrassment.  His Weaving allowed us to win back a large portion of our land from the conniving Mantises.  Word of his deed has already been sent out to the rest of our people.  He will teach a new generation of Weavers and spearhead our victory in reclaiming our ancestral lands. I believe he is a greatly valued and talented Weaver.

MABEL (squeals) AWWWWWW! Anansi is there anything you want to say?!

ANANSI (mumbling) Th-thank you.

BROTHER (grunts)

ANANSI'S FACE IS BRIGHT RED AND HE STARES DOWN AND TO THE SIDE, EQUALLY STUNNED, EMBARRASSED, AND TOUCHED.  BROTHER IS STOIC, STILL SQUARELY FACING THE CAMERA.  THE TWO STAND SILENTLY FOR SEVERAL SECONDS. SLOWLY BROTHER'S RIGHT ARM STARTS TO RISE.  A SPEAR COMES INTO VIEW.

MABEL Wai–

STATIC

EXT. ROOF OF SHACK – DAY

SOOS'S FACE FILLS THE SCREEN, SMILING HAPPILY AGAINST A BACKGROUND OF REDWOOD TREETOPS AND BRIGHT BLUE SKY.  SOOS'S FACE IS TOO CLOSE AND HIS ARMS ARE EXTENDED; HE IS HOLDING THE CAMERA.  STRANGE CHIRPING NOISES COME FROM OFF SCREEN ON THE LEFT.  

MABEL Our second guest comes to us from a certain roof in Gravity Falls, Oregon.  Please welcome – Soos!

SOOS Hi, Mr. Pineses!  Can I give shoutouts?  Is that allowed?  

MABEL Absolutely! Can you tell us about the new addition to your family?

SOOS Oh, sure!

CAMERA SWINGS ERRATICALLY AND STOPS ON A MASSIVE NEST SITTING ON THE ROOF. IN THE CENTER OF THE NEST IS A YOUNG PTERODACTYL THE SIZE OF A SEMI TRUCK, CURLED UP AND FAST ASLEEP.

SOOS Tada! We named him Kitten because he chases that little red laser around just like a quarter-ton kitten.  Aw, look –

ZOOM IN, FOCUS BLURS, THEN CLEARS ON A CLOSE-UP OF KITTEN'S FACE.  ITS FRONT CLAWS SCRABBLE LIGHTLY AGAINST THE NEST.  ITS UPPER LIP IS TWITCHING, REVEALING SHARP WHITE TEETH GLISTENING WITH SALIVA, AND ITS EYELIDS OPEN SLIGHTLY TO REVEAL GROTESQUELY ROLLING EYES.   

SOOS (Abnormally Loud Stage Whisper) He's dreaming!

MABEL (Abnormally Loud Stage Whisper) How did he end up on the roof?

SOOSOh –

SWISH PAN ERRATICALLY BACK TO CLOSE-UP OF SOOS

SOOS So we think he was learning to fly and crash-landed on the lawn.  I got him to hold still long enough to fix his wing, and then we bonded over a housewarming barbeque, and by the time his mom showed up we were basically like brothers!  So he sleeps here during the day while his mom hunts and then they go home to the dino mines at night.  At least until his wing heals up.

MELODY (Off Screen) Soos! Don't forget to wake up Kitten for his three o' clock snack.  And no more gingerbread men!  We don't want him getting ideas about the tourists!

SOOS You got it, honey!

LOUD SCREECHING FROM OFF SCREEN

SOOS(grinning)Uh-oh! Sounds like someone heard the word 'snack'!  He's so smart.

PAN TO KITTEN, WHO IS CRAWLING AWKWARDLY BUT RAPIDLY OUT OF HIS NEST.

KITTEN SCREECHES AND BITS OFF THE TOP HALF OF THE CHIMNEY.

SOOS Whoops! Those can't be good for his teeth.  Put it down, Kitten, go on...

KITTEN (Chirps without letting go of chimney)

MABEL He's like a puppy!  ...A really scaly one.

SOOS Doooown...

KITTEN PAUSES.

KITTEN DROPS CHIMNEY.

CHIMNEY CRASHES THROUGH ROOF.

SOOS Good boy, Kitten!

CAMERA ANGLES DOWN TO A MASSIVE PILE OF TURKEY LEGS AT SOOS'S FEET.  HIS ARM ENTERS THE SCREEN'S FIELD OF VISION.  HE GRABS A CHICKEN LEG AND THROWS IT AT KITTEN WITH A GRUNT.  KITTEN'S HEAD SHOOTS OUT TEN FEET AND HE SNAPS IT UP IN ON GULP.  KITTEN CHIRPS FOR MORE, THEN SNEEZES SO HARD IT BLOWS THE REST OF THE CHIMNEY AWAY.

ABUELITA (Distant, rapid Spanish)

MELODY Soos!

SOOS I can fix it!

CUT TO INT. DIPPER AND MABEL'S BEDROOM – DAY MABEL IS NOW SITTING ON A ROLLING CHAIR AT A DESK.  A CORKBOARD OVER THE DESK IS COVERED IN NEWSPAPER CLIPPINGS, MORE POSTCARDS, POST-IT NOTES, AND STRINGS OF RED YARN.  

MABEL (Squeezing her cheeks) Aw, that was adorable!  Guess I can't say Dipper sneezes like a 'Kitten' anymore!  HEY-OOOO!  

MABEL STANDS AND MOVES SLIGHTLY TO HER RIGHT, THE CAMERA FOLLOWING HER MOVEMENT.

MABEL And now for the final portion of the episode, please welcome Grunkle Ford, and his extensive knowledge of all things ocean and occult!

A LAPTOP RESTS ON THE DESK.  THE SCREEN IS FILLED WITH GREAT-UNCLE FORD'S FACE.  THE SLIVERS OF BACKGROUND ON EITHER SIDE SHOW BOAT RAILINGS AGAINST AN AZURE SEA AND SLIGHTLY CLOUDY SKY.  A SMALL DARK THREAD OF LAND TRACES THE HORIZON.  FORD IS WEARING A LIFE JACKET OVER A RED TURTLENECK AND LOOKS SLIGHTLY SUNBURNED, SMILING DIRECTLY AT THE CAMERA.

FORD Greetings, future scientists!

MABEL Grunkle Ford, what can you tell us about the supernatural families you've found in the Arctic Circle? 

FORD Actually most of the cryptids we've discovered on the ocean are solitary by virtue of their size alone.  A giant squid, for example, typically requires a hunting ground of one to two thousand square miles of open ocean just to sate its voracious appetite.  It's quite rare for them to engage in anything we might call “socializing.”

STAN (Off Screen) Oi!

STAN ENTERS FROM THE LEFT, BENDING OVER TO SQUINT AT THE SCREEN.  FORD LEANS BACK SLIGHTLY, ANNOYED.

STAN Did I hear that right?  Is my irredeemable nerdbro actually talking about socializing?

FORD It's science, Stanley!

STAN Whatever, this I gotta see.

MABEL We're doing a segment on cryptid families!  Got anything to add?

STAN You tell 'em about the ghosts yet?

FORD (Looking uncomfortable) Not yet, but –

MABEL (excitedly) I wanna hear!  GHOST, GHOST, GHOST, GHOST –

LOUD BANGING SOUNDS FROM OFF SCREEN.  AFTER A CRASH, AN ELBOW AND A PARTIAL VIEW OF AN ELECTRONIC DEVICE APPEARS ON THE SCREEN.

DIPPER I'm here where's the ghost?!

FORD(annoyed)Stan claims to have seen two of them on our visit to Vik i Myrdal.

DIPPER (confused) Huh? Vik what?

FORD A beach on the coast of Iceland, famous for its basaltic sand.  We were visiting primarily to study the petrified troll bodies just off the shore –

STAN Yeah yeah with the weird rocks, Ford was doing his science doodles or whatever, but that wasn't the important part.  See, there was this massive cave in the cliffs that looked exactly like the place a pirate would hide his treasure –

FORD Not at high tide!

DIPPER What happened?

STAN Uh, turns out the waves around there get really bad.

FORD As in twenty feet high. I turned around, there was no Stan in sight, and cave was already half-flooded with water.  Luckily one of us followed the rule about wearing our scuba gear under our clothes.  I immediately dropped my equipment and dove in after him. I found him pinned under a pile of rocks several dozen meters into the cave.

MABEL Whoa, are you okay?

STAN (smirking) Fine, I'm not the one who got knocked out.

FORD You shoved me!

STAN The water shoved you!  Accidentally!  To keep falling rocks from hitting you!

DIPPER But what about the ghosts?

STAN So we're stuck in the cave, right, and I'm trying to hold my breath, swim, and drag Sixer with me all at the same time, and the water's smashing us around so much Ford's underwater flashlight cracks and I'm thinking the next light I'm gonna see is the pearly gates.  And then I do see a light, and I swim toward it thinking it's gotta be daylight, but it's not getting any closer and all this fat was not helping me float.  And then a second light shows up and takes Sixer's other arm and practically drags us outta there, and next thing you know we were back on the beach, and I look back just in time to see an outline of this guy and his wife watching us from the middle of the air next to the cave.  

MABEL Wow, they stuck together and not even death could part them.  That is so romantic!  

STAN Sure. Woulda grabbed a photo but there was a little matter of Sixer not breathin' at the time.

FORD You should have taken the picture!  Thanks to the rocks falling, the end of the tunnel was completely blocked, and I was almost sure I saw fossilized cryptid bones inside.  Now we don't have anything at all to prove supernatural activity occurred in the cave!

STAN The words you want are 'Thank you, Stanley, you're the best brother ever.'

FORD Of course you are, that's not the point!

STAN What? Wait –

DIPPER Why were there ghosts there in the first place?

FORD I didn't know enough of the local language to inquire, but I suspect it may have something to do with the cryptid bones I glimpsed.  I suspect the couple's death was somehow caused by the cryptid, but Stan's account suggests that they're poltergeists, and poltergeists generally don't die violent deaths.

DIPPER What if the couple was keeping it as a pet?  Or maybe they could turn into the cryptid, like selkies?  The ghosts Stan saw might just have been their human versions!

FORD Brilliant hypothesis, Dipper!  Perhaps I was merely asking the wrong questions! Stan, quick, turn the boat around!

STAN No way, no, you literally died in that cave –

FORD Not permanently!  Besides, you'd have my back!

STAN That is so below the belt!

DIPPER Stan, are you crying?

STAN I got sea salt in my eye!

CAMERA PANS TO A CLOSE-UP OF MABEL, WHO IS LOOKING TO THE SIDE, BACK TOWARD THE COMPUTER SCREEN.  THE CONVERSATION CONTINUES IN THE BACKGROUND.  

MABEL We'll leave them to their nerdery.   (Looks directly at camera.)   Families don't have to be related, and they don't even have to be the same species.  What's important is that you show how much you care for each other, and spend time doing the same things, like getting thrown in a county jail or treating flamingopher bites.

BOTH STANS (Off Screen) That was ONE TIME!

MABELYour family might include close friends, dogs, pet rocks, or that one crow who brings you shiny pennies and half-eaten lollipops.  Whatever your family, take a minute today to let them know how much they matter. Thanks for watching Mabel's Guide to Cryptid Families.  See you next time! A/N: To my friends on Deep Woods, and a good friend on tumblr...thank you ^u^

#monthofmaybel2019 #week 4 #mabel's guide to #mabel's guide to cryptid families #cryptid families #cryptid #families #dipper #mabel #grunkle stan #grunkle ford #soos #pterodactyl #ghost #anansi #spider-people

[not-a-statement]

Chasing ghosts. Chapter 3

Sorry friends for overdosing your dashboards with this stuff, but I’m too excited to hold it back anymore. 

This chapter really did kill me while writing. I somehow tried to reflect my own feelings in it as well as to put observation of my friend who has currently lived through a very messy situation.

Anyway, chapter under the cut, critics and suggestions are always appreciated.

Welp, it’s time to go to dead.

New York, NY, October 7-11, 2024

Nights seemed to be the hardest to live through. Not literally - in a physical way - but maybe a little bit in that way too. Just a bit…

Every morning he felt numb. No such things as work, clothes or breakfast were present in his area of interest. And it seemed that those things were long gone for a while then. Only his memories, smells from the past and lingering sensations of light touches that were unlikely to happen again were orbiting him every day from the moment of awakening…

Unlikely to happen again? Light touches? Ding-fucking-Dong, you bloody idiot. Stop thinking of it like you’ve been married for a lifetime and then your wife moved to her gram-gram’s place at the “Fluffy Clouds Acres”...

Yeah, you have other suggestions about how to live on with a giant hole instead of heart?..

He wanted to feel himself a victim. Longed for sympathizers of all kinds queuing up to his bed, big baskets full with fruits in their hands, “Get well soon” cards, soothing phrases on their tongues - that he was every right to feel what he felt, that he deserved her and she made a very big mistake picking that bastard to be her husband…

You know what would be more honest? If somebody brought you some poison instead.

Or at least whiskey…

Would you knock it off already? Where’s your smart part when it comes to distinguishing seeds from chaff? Do you honestly think that all your feelings are of a value? Don’t be ridiculous - your own sister? For real? You actually expected everything to work out?   

Shut up…

It was Monday morning, Dipper had to get prepared to leave for work - he’s finally got a position. Kind of. Same duties, another ton or two plus to his salary - at least it was something, right? At least an excuse not to spend all of his time in this god forsaken flat all day long.

But he was still laying in his sister’s bed, inhaling her scent that somehow managed to stay in the pillow. What a pathetic view it was…

Not as pathetic as his kitchen exterior though. The day prior - as for all other days - there was loads of booze and Dipper was too lazy to bother himself with throwing out the garbage so there was lots of empty bottles laying and standing here and there, empty cigarettes packs, Chinese food boxes - a perfect decorations for a hopeless bachelor’s place.

Sloppily cooked breakfast, coffee as dark as New York’s midnight sky - state’s one. The city itself was living 24 hours so the illumination was enough to make a barrier between nighttime dreamers and traces of light casted by long gone celestial giants billions of human lives away from our sinful rotten asteroid.

Perhaps it was the other way around in New City. Probably the view was breathtaking with all the stars in the sky to count, crispy countryside air to bath in…

Warm and gentle hand of beloved woman to squeeze, cascades of her hazel hair to admire and fiddle with…

Dipper stumbled upon the battalion of empty bottles causing some of them fall clinking resentfully. The sound was enough to make his head ache and cast a grimace of displeasure on his face.

So that’s the plan, huh? Drink until you find a ball of snot instead of your liver?

Pffft...as if

Oh, I get it. Not your problem, right? It’s ten-years-later-Dipper’s problem…

He had to take control over the situation - find a better job, start doing some kind of sport to get fit, maybe find a woman. Anything that will help him get over his misery and make this voice nagging at the back of his mind go…

That’s a great plan - so many details. Hey, why don’t you get a job in NASA? With your ability to make plans like that we will land on Mars twenty years earlier than estimated.

Or at least by then he had a simpler task to tackle - get dressed and step out of this flat to start a new day that’s unlikely to be any different from the day before. Only task he could possibly do without failing.

As for making detailed plans - that’s an important concept, Dipper had to admit. All this abstract thoughts and ideas about new job and sport - they’re important nevertheless. But if one just postulates such things they’re unable to lead anywhere. Dipper as one who used to be the master of bajillion steps checklists for any occasion - to win Wendy’s heart for example - knew for sure that if he wanted to make any progress he needed to think and plan deeper than that.

What Mabel used to tease him about pretty often was a very useful ability. Staying organized, understanding each step and possible alternative breakpoints and handling possible exceptions. For an average person this way of thinking could play good if they keep it in balance with other aspects of their life. But Dipper was no average person.

He was...Dipper. And that meant that balance was off the table.

Good or bad, Dipper and Mabel complemented each other in so many things that one of them wasn’t whole without the other. And that same balance in Dipper’s vigorous activity of his brain was introduced by his sister, with her emphasis on feelings, emotions, and her own particular angle of view.

But when he found himself alone he started to crumble. His brain was acting like a locomotive rushing at maximum speed risking to go off the rail at any moment. Nerves gone acute and at the same time emotions gone blank.

He tried - God knows he did - to live on his own, to give way to his emotions, tried to find that different point of view, based on feelings, yet to no big avail. Every attempt ended at the start point, all theories were in contradiction with one another and ended up crumbled.

The only thing that helped in letting all go was alcohol.

Only having drunk a glass or two of bourbon he used to start looking at all what was happening differently. After half of bottle he used to start feeling.

He was feeling pure pain caused by disappearance of his most beloved person, his second half from his life. Of the girl, who somehow managed to make him falling for her so hard casting thousands of butterflies in his stomach, sending shivers down his spine when she laughed and making him completely numb when she cried. Mabel Pines, that one and only girl in the world for whom he was ready to jump off the cliff on a gigantic robot with nothing but his bare hands, for whom he was ready to endure any level of his own pain just to keep her safe and protect her. He’s never loved anybody as much as he loved her. And never will.

He was feeling anger. What did this smug douchebag know about Mabel? Was it him who lived with her for the whole life? What he can possibly give her? I don’t remember him breaking through Bill’s traps to set her free from that bubble prison. Not to say he wasn’t one who crawled through SWAT squad to clear Stan’s name. Heck, I bet he couldn’t even handle gnomes - probably would shit himself and bail with his tail tucked. And is he ready to cover her with his body in case something threatening her? Is he capable of doing anything that slick faggot from Wall Street?! Who is he to separate us?!

He was feeling fear. Mabel is alone out there. Where will you be when she needs you, huh? You saw what world could have in store twelve years ago. Do you think anything changed? Do you think that Bill won’t return? Or even if he won’t who said that he’s the only one? You’ve been thinking about it for quite a while, haven’t you?

On Tuesday that fear dimmed his eyes to almost unbearable level. What’s the matter? Why your hand with a lighter clenched in it shakes so hard?

Shut up…

On Wednesday he took an illness day off. He was feeling rather bad physically but that wasn’t the matter - he was just really scared to leave his flat. For the whole day he kept wandering within it - from his sister’s bedroom to the kitchen and back - rushing constantly to his computer typing request after request or scribbling some incomprehensible gibberish in his journal - the same that Mabel gave him as a birthday present. Yet another bottle was opened not long after lunch time, because he couldn’t bear that day staying sober.

The next day - on Thursday - in the early morning he woke up at pretty much the same spot he ended falling the night prior - behind the sofa in the living room. His face felt swelling, knees and elbows were harshly scratched at various places - perhaps he would find some furniture items at same poor condition. His journal was lying on the sofa, its first dozen pages or so covered with all kind of theory snippets or logical fact chains - anything he could come up with in order to keep his brain working consistently and not having it exploded. Some of his notes made no sense at all, others reeked with insanity. He had to keep working, had to grasp that tiny bits of his mind floating on the surface of the blindingly dark ocean consisting of repelling visions, predator’s muzzles and never ending sound of some woman crying.

Also there was one more thing swirling through that ocean - a phrase carelessly spoken by Zach on Saturday.

On Friday night the week before Mabel was bombarding her brother’s phone with invitations for him to come over to Turner’s and have a dinner together. He missed her beloved brother and probably was acknowledging the fact that in such conditions a modest family dinner was the only option for them to spend some quality time together instead of nights full of movie marathons and pizza. It’s what people do, don’t they? When they become adults…

But if Mabel was feeling a bit melancholic because of that blunt bogus of an activity, it came to no comparison with what Dipper might’ve felt that exact second he appeared at Zach’s door. He either would leave within an hour tops or get drunk as swine. So it was better not to come at all to prevent such bad consequences.

But having to turn his sister down over a phone for yet another time wasn’t any less painful. Hearing her voice changing from cheerful one to upset, because of whatever excuse he could come up with - working late, having an extra task, needing to stay up until late night home because of an important article he had to finish. Or hearing her playful teasings about him having a secret date with ladies and reminders to leave a tie on the knob which would make him laugh uncontrollably adding more more pain. He couldn’t stand it. That’s why he decided to take a decisive action.

He turned off his cell phone. And spent a long time sitting on a bench near to Brooklyn bridge with a bottle of whiskey in a paper bag, staring at his device’s black lifless screen as if trying to soak its void up.

Void and darkness. What are they? The absence of life, light, benignancy. Absence of everything - only vast and pure nothingness. Why can’t I adapt it? To feel nothing, to throw this piece of plastic into the river, to come home today, grab my bag and jump on the first flight to Oregon. Cut all ties with Mabel, simply disappear from her horizon. Wouldn’t that be better?

It sure would’ve been easier.

But the only response the phone’s screen could give the reflection of the autumn afternoon sky with glimpses of upcoming dusk rather than comply with Dipper’s inner desires. So only thing he was left with was whiskey again.

Its taste was already a rock solid number one in his rating of favorite tastes. In mixture with tobacco smoke. Nevertheless that blend taken in serious doses were casting an instant portal to the morning after.

And what it had in store were regrets and sorrowful thoughts about what he’d done and what a jackass of a brother he was. So the phone was turned on, Mabel’s number typed his thumb hovering over the green button was given an order to hold it back no more.

There was a beep. And then another. And another.

After 6 beeps Dipper started having second thoughts about how 9 pm on Saturday might’ve been not the best time for late apologies but then his phone slightly buzzed and he heard someone’s deep morning breathing on the other end.

“Hi, Mabes, I...um...” he started timidly trying to soften his hoarse hang over voice “About yesterday...I’m really sorry I couldn’t call you back...my battery died and I had to stay late so I walked home and hit the hay the moment I entered...”

He let out a clumsy chuckle scratching the back of his head.  

Telling lies, are we?

Shut up.

“So...yeah...I’m sorry I couldn’t make it yesterday to your place...um...maybe will try the next Friday? Mabes?”

He heard a male voice giggling through the receiver that sent cold wave to his abdomen.

“Oh, sorry, man. Didn’t want to interrupt your monologue.”

Zach. That bastard…

“Oh...hey, Zach...” he wasn’t ready to stumble upon Zach in such condition. “Um...would you mind passing phone to Mabel?”

“I wish, bro, i wish” Dipper clenched his fist hard enough to make his knuckles go white “But Mrs. Turner is still watching whatever bright and pleasant dream she’s watching”

Was that scoffing? Mrs Turner? As if he won her and now showing it off. Fuck, as if he thinks he took my wife…

Wouldn’t be much of a fallacy, huh?

I told you to shut up.

He needed to somehow play it cool. Put aside his own twisted feelings and think of what’s better for Mabel - if she found out about his hostility towards her husband and linked it with his constant denials to come for dinner that would be really bad.

“Okay, ahem...” he cleared his throat before continuing “Can you maybe ask her to call me back when she’s awake then?”

“No problem at all. But, you know, I can tell her myself...”

“No no no, better if I tell her what I wanted to tell, thanks. Um...okay, b..”

“Oh, how things are going on your side, Mason? Haven’t heard from you for ages.”

Oh, son of a...why by name?

“Good, good. Yeah, so...”

“Heard you’ve got promoted. Got a position?”

“Well...um...not exactly, but...I’m working on it. Yeah, sorry for early ca...”

“And how’s the money? Do they pay you enough?”

Oh you impudent chuffed fuck.

Tell him.

“Enough for me, thanks. Well, okay I...”

“Look, we have a vacant position at stock exchange. Consultants are paid good and respected, so I thought maybe...”

“I’m not keen on idea of selling people something I don’t personally believe in, thank you.”

Shit, that was bad. Didn’t mean to sound so harshly.

He started it.

Shut up.

He heard Zach laughing on the other end. Damn, even insults are not working for him. He’s got his walls built solid.

“Why so determined? Believe me, after first salary when you start buying yourself some big men toys like cars you won’t say such immature things.”

Yeah, yeah. Teach me how to live my life, bitch.

“Well, if I were you I would think about it, Mason. I’d take it as an honor to help my family member.”

“Yeah, okay, cool. Um...” Come on, say something polite to end this “Have a nice day, Zach.”

“No it is? Okay, whatever you say. You’re a good man but you’re sometimes being silly, Pinetree.”

Dipper’s heart skipped a beat and he felt thunderstruck. All his muscles tightened. Given he was slouching, it seemed that his body’s fulcrum had shifted slightly above the rib cage.

“What did you call me?” asked Dipper his voice hardly above whispering.

“What? Old mocking nickname? Sorry, didn’t mean to...”

“What. Did. You. Call. Me?” repeated Dipper louder.

“Oh, c’mon, man. I’m sorry, for real, I...”

Can it be?..

I can’t see why not

No, that’s impossible. No, no..

Well, he told you she was sleeping, but do you trust him?

Mabel…

“Where is she?”

“Who? Mabel? Man, I told you she is leisuring...”

“Pass her the phone”

“Look, she’s really not ready to talk to anybody right now, you how she is. Man, like for real - I’m sorry if that upsets you, it wasn’t my inten...”

“Shut the fuck up, Zach!!!” Dipper growled, he could feel himself drowning in unimaginable paralyzing horor. “Where is my sister?!”

“Hey! Watch the language, pal!”

“Where is my sister?!”

“Piss off!”

“Where is Mabel?!!” Dipper broke into shouting. His breathing was heavy and ragged, he could feel his blood rushing to his head almost setting tips of his ears on fire. His face also grew unbearably hot.

“You know the address, you mental piece of human garbage!!! Come over and see where it leads you!!!”

His mind was rushing billion miles per hour. The boiler in his locomotive of a brain was about to blow up. Blood was pounding in his ears, he could literally feel his blood vessels filling up with pure adrenaline, he tasted metal in his mouth and there was something more with that taste. It was...was it?..

Wait, what does sulfur taste like?

He wasn’t listening to Zach’s shoutings on the other end of line anymore. He was paralyzed by that unaccountable fear. He couldn’t say anything, he couldn’t move - every tiny little cell of his body wasn’t answering his commands. It was a trap, he knew that. A blurred burning trap with spurts of flame dancing before him, licking his calves sending anguishing sensations to his muscles and to his brain. There were lizard’s eyes with narrow pupils everywhere, he couldn’t see them, but he was feeling watched by them. He could feel their glares cutting him like it was a straight razor, he could feel cold fingers digging through his head, twining around his eyeballs. And there was a voice - a woman was shouting his name. It was familiar but nontheless it was demanding razor to push deeper and deeper! Cutting him in two, then in four, then…

Deeper!

Deeper!

“DIPPER!!!”

In a heartbeat he was back into Mabel’s room in their Brooklyn flat; her was dragged him out of that horrifying vision. He was kneeling before the bed, clenching bedcover with his right hand and his cellphone with his left. He was breathing through gritted teeth loudly and heavily.

What was real out of all that?..

The only thing - her voice. A concerned voice of Mabel still calling his name, in which he could hear that she was on the verge of breaking into tears. She was scared - perhaps he and Zach woke her up with their banter and scared her a lot. And his heavy breathing distorted by the transmitter apparently wasn’t helping at all.

Keep it together, Pines, keep it together! Shake off this nightmare and tell her that you’re safe, that you’re fine.

Are you, though?

Yes! I’m fine, I’m totally fine!

But what about B…

He’s dead!!! He’s long gone!!! Mabel’s safe, she’s not dragged away from me into another dimension! She’s here, she’s actually relatively close.

I need to catch my breath. Okay, one in and one out...here we go…

“Dipper, please! Say something! Say something to me!” he could practically see the first teardrop rolling down her tender rosy cheek. “Dipper, I’m begging you!”

“Mabes, I...” at least the voice is...yep, it’s mine “I...my battery...it died so I had to walk home and...”

“Bro-bro, what are talking about?”

“I was staying late...so s’why I couldn’t...couldn’t come to dinner...yeah...I’m sorry. I just wanted to say I’m sorry.”

“Please tell me you’re okay, Dipper. Please tell me that.”

“Yeah, I am...Totally, Mabes, totally...”

“Are you sure?”

He gulped nervously listening to his unsteady breathing.

Telling lies again? Way to g…

“Yes, Mabel, everything’s well I swear” he tried to sound as calm as he could “I...s-sorry for waking you up.”

And he ended the call.

Splendid, my man.

Is that so hard to do? I said shut the fuck up. I need a drink.

***

On Friday he finally made it to work. Dressed in a black hoodie covered in stains of various food and sauces, worn out unwashed trousers of same color he was kind of a ghost to everyone else in the editorial office - no one would bother themselves waving him hello or even noticing him. He was sitting at his small desk in the open space surrounded by stacks of papers and office supplies. Obviously he forgot to take his laptop with him as well as his wallet. For some reason only valuable thing he had then was the most inappropriate one - his driver’s license, which was laying on the desk with his cellphone with already cracked screen.

Time was approaching lunch but food wasn’t even in top ten of his priorities. Frankly he could hardly remember when was the last time he actually consumed something apart from alcohol and cigarettes. Was it that morning? Or the morning before? And does a peanut butter and jelly toast count as food?

All that was in the background of his mind at that moment. The main screen of his mind was displaying various footage soaked with anxiety; each minute a bunch of viewers were collectively advising the main character on the white screen to take right turn or left or to head straight. And footages were constantly changing.

For the first time fear and pain started blending. Only one component was left…

“Pines!” a familiar voice called out for him. At least someone noticed his presence.

Paul Hempstead - the chief editor of essays department - was slowly approaching his desk, scanning through a stack of papers in his hands slowly.

“Good to see you again. Caught a bad cold?” he switched his attention from papers to his employee.

“My god” he gasped “What happened to your face?”

“I fell” Dipper said with colorless voice not even raising his eyes to look at editor.

“Right, you fell” as if taking a hint responded Paul “Okay, I won’t ask. I have a job for you. Are you going to lunch? I’ll explain while eating.”

“No, I’m not going” Dipper’s voice still wasn’t displaying any emotions.

Looking bewildered Paul stared at him as if thinking of whether or not he’s likely to ask any other questions about reasons. Dipper stayed motionless looking right before him into the void.

“Yeah, you’re right. Better right here” the editor fished a paper out of stack in his hands and laid it before Dipper. “A letter from a concerned mother. Her son’s getting oppressed by his scholl mates - he’s part of a certain subculture so his mother wants us to make it sound to the society. The letter is for gist, I wanted you to go there and find all the details. I assigned a photographer to them - he will be going on Monday. Your task is for today so we have our fresh essay on Tuesday. It’s in Huntington - you’ll be done in 3 or 4 hours.”

“Okay” followed a similarly lifeless answer.

Hempstead was expecting for something more verbose.

“Ho-o-ka-y” he slowly echoed stretching syllables “There are bus routes but car is easier. Works for you?”

He waved his hand at Dipper’s driving license.

“I don’t have a car”

“Oh. That’s wise, probably - such a big busy city...You can take a shared car. There’re lots of them on every corner. What do you say? Besides that way you’ll clear your evening.”

“I forgot my wallet home.”

Paul started losing hope.

“That’s a misfortune...Look, you can go to accountants and ask them for a prepayment. In fact...” He fished his wallet out of his trousers pocket and laid three 100 dollars bills before Dipper “Here, you’ll return on a payday. Just take your time to prepare, you know - go home, take a nap, change and all...”

Dipper lowered his eyes to look at the money and nodded slightly.

“Thank you Mr Hempstead” and added after second or two: “Can I go now?”

“For sure, Pines, for sure. Just don’t forget - deadline’s on Tuesday”

Not waiting for a response Paul rushed further down the aisle.

Dipper gave that money a look one more time, then grabbed it and his belongings from his desk and headed for exit.

When he was already at the door his phone buzzed. Even not looking at the screen he was already imagining her cute face, how she bit down her bottom lip waiting for him answer and twisting on of her locks.

This time he decided not to make the same mistake twice. He took his phone out of pocket, cleared his throat and tapped the green button.

***

He was standing naked and wet after taking a shower before the mirror in his bathroom examining his reflection. His cheeks started sinking, right cheekbone was bruised after he met wooden floor with it. He stopped caring about his hair long ago, there were scattered spots of messy stubble here and there. His shoulders were hunched even more than he remembered.

For the past two months Dipper got used to an idea that he wouldn’t see anything good in his reflection but every time it was really important to him to examine his appearance carefully. He still harboured some hope that eventually an alarm in his brain would break out he would start working on at least the simplest plan for recovery.

Not to say it wasn’t happening any time.

He was still feeling saturated after eating some fried eggs with bacon as soon as he came home from work. Even 6 hours of sleep he plunged into as soon as he laid down didn’t manage to drain that feeling but regained his somewhat mental and physical forces a bit.

He’s already failed Paul’s task, cause it was 9 in the evening and there’s no point to drive anywhere. That meant that he was in need to find some distraction to prevent his mind from once again spiralling down into anxiety and crimson blur.

Maybe I can use some fresh air. Like go to Central Park or cinema - anything but once again play ghost at the river’s embankment.

A vision appeared before his eyes - that one, that refused to go away for almost two months then. He was with her, hand in hand slowly moving across the park paths, he gently squeezes her hand, then lets it go only to hug her shoulders with it, she smiles, lays her head on his shoulder, their steps become slower, more relaxed…

Dipper downed a full glass of whiskey. The amber liquid started warming his chest, his stomach. It was such a false warmth that if he closed his eyes he could feel it as a light breeze, stuck between tree trunks in the heart of the park. He could feel it as her warm and gentle hands caressing his chest, so tiny and tender compared to sizes of her sweater…

Not exactly registering he downed another glass.

This is insane. You are! You can take her back, you can’t explain her anything! You can’t give her anything but your warmth!

Wouldn’t that be enough? Is there anybody who can give it to her?

No. NO!

No one can do that! No one will protect her but me!

Another glass downed.

Only I know her that much! Only I saw what this unfair world full of violences can do to her!

Another glass.

I fought demon for her! And I won! I saved my Mabel! My sweet, lovely Mabel.

Another.

What if he lives?

Impossible. He perished.

Yeah, but what if he survived?

He started drinking straight from the bottle.

What’s the matter? Are you scared? Oh, you should be. What were you thinking - you’ve jumped from that cliff once and that’s it? So you can sit around, having your time?

Shut up…

He knew there’s a car outside. And he’s got the keys. Also he knows what lies in his bottom drawer covered with kitchen blankets.

No, you shut up and listen. You abandoned her. Left her so that clown now can do whatever he wants. Do you know who he is? Have you spent a spare second studying what kind of man he is?

Shut up.

He tried to walk steadily and failed. A brass knuckles in his right pocket - a gift from Gruncle Stan - and bottle of whiskey in left hand weren’t helping in balancing at all. He got into a shared vehicle. If only he could start the engine…

Bravo! Just perfect, my boy! Guess what - you’ve got fooled! How hilarious is that?

Shut up.

He turned the engine but the impulse died instantly.

Our Big Master Dipper - a threat to all monsters and demons…

Shut up!

Another turn. And one more...Come on!

…a famous mysteries solver got fooled by some pathetic equilateral one-eyed…

SHUT UP!!!

PINETREE!!!

The engine roared coming to life. Dipper accelerated steering the car to the north-west away from the city - to a small countryside place in suburbs called New City.

#chasing ghosts #pinecest #not a statement at all

[feferipeixes]

Just one bite

A sequel to this ficlet by Seiya234.

===

The first soul Dipper ever ate tasted like nothing he could have ever imagined.

It went beyond taste, it went beyond feeling. It was as if his very being was being shaken by something sweeter than chocolate, saltier than his favorite potato chips, spicier than that hot pepper Mabel had made him eat when he lost a bet. With just one bite, he felt more alive than he ever had, even before the demonic fire burned the life clean off him. No more than a bite, and he felt like a wholly new person.

And he wanted more. More. M͇͍̘̝̀O̦̜̗̬R̤̙̝̪E-

No. That was enough. He may have become a demon, but that didn’t mean he had to act like it. The stupid dragon was wrong. He wouldn’t become a slave to this. He didn’t like it. He wouldn’t eat any more. He wouldn’t. He wouldn’t let himself. He was better than this!

He took another bite.

It wasn't a physical object, but he felt it fracture between his sharp teeth, heard the crunch echo around the cave. And it screamed, louder than he thought something could scream, not when it had neither a mouth nor a voice. Not when it was supposed to have already died in his hands. Yet scream it did -- so anguished and violent that it rippled through his being.

And that just made him hungrier.

He bit down again, and again. Shoved the rest of it in his craw so fast that he barely had time to savor it, because the rush was too great. It slid down his throat, and he never felt it hit the bottom.

More. He needed M͇͍̘̝̀O̦̜̗̬R̤̙̝̪E.

There were crumbs on his fingers. His tongue flitted out automatically to lick them up, and -- he paused. That was new. His tongue was rectangular, with a fork at the end, like a snake. He was sure it hadn't been that way before.

Or... maybe it had been. It was getting hard to think about.

Something other than a crunch echoed off the walls. Something a little more familiar, but at the same time, so so alien. His body shuddered as it passed through him, shaking him to his very core. It almost felt like it was coming out of him.

A strange, golden liquid dripped onto his hand. Someone was crying. Weird.

He folded his legs, and drew his knees up to his chest. Stubby wings popped out from his lower back. They seemed bigger now, and he wasn’t sure he was going to be able to get used to that -- he would though, he would and it would feel so natural that he couldn’t even imagine not having them -- but right now they felt weirdly comforting. As if he could wrap them around him like a tight blanket.

Was he sad? Demons didn’t get sad. So why was he acting like this? He tried to think, but his brain was too fuzzy. He was so, so hungry. It felt like he hadn’t eaten in years, even though he’d just -

Mabel. How was he going to tell Mabel? He couldn’t, he didn’t want her to know what new level he’d sunk to. She’d been so understanding so far, but there had to be a breaking point and then she’d be just like everyone else who’d run screaming away from him and he couldn’t breathe he wasn’t breathing when had he stopped -

He gasped, drawing in more than a lungful of air, and dissolved into a coughing fit. Flecks of golden blood splattered onto the ground. He wiped his mouth and then clutched his stomach in pain. What was he going to do? How was he going to make this stop?

He didn’t want this.

He hadn’t asked for it!

He was just a boy.

He could still remember how he felt only a year ago, looking up at Grunkle Ford and imagining himself all grown up. He was just a boy then too, but at that point his future seemed so bright. Now he wanted anything in the world other than to grow up.

Demons weren’t supposed to worry about things like this.

Somehow, he pushed himself to his feet. He wobbled a bit -- strange, when gravity had no power to shake him anymore -- and reached for the cave wall to steady himself. His hand rested on something wet and gross. He pulled it back and examined the blood on it. Watched but didn’t feel himself thrust his hand to his face so he could lick the blood off.

Ignored as best he could the rumble in his stomach as he took a step forward.

Run away. He’d run away. It was the only option. The only way everyone would be safe. The only way he could avoid seeing the disappointment on Mabel’s face.

She’d tell him it was okay, and he’d slump his shoulders and cry again, because it wasn’t okay, it would never be okay. And from then on, she’d know when he was hugging her that his stomach was rumbling and that he could snap at any moment.

She’d tell him it was okay, and he’d shudder because he’d see it, that glowing orb buried deep within her. He’d see the pearls of life coalescing on it. He’d hear how loud she could scream, the perfect garnish for such a delicious meal. He’d sweat at the prospect of all that power, all that energy. Salivate at the thought of sinking his teeth deep into it.

She’d tell him it was okay, and the rumble would shake through his body, deafening him with hunger. He couldn’t let that happen.

But the stupid dragon was right. He needed more. That soul was the most delicious thing he’d ever tasted in his entire life and he’d never rest until he got M̡̭͓͓͇͋̍̋̚O̟̠ͣͫR̴̵̡̲͍̘͕̰̻̂̇ͪȄ̫̜̦̲̩̜ͦ̒̊̅͘.

At the mouth of the cave, he peered up with blinded eyes at the sky. Saw the clouds, and the trees, and the birds. Heard the gentle breeze tickle his form. Felt the burning, crushing guilt. The crippling emptiness in his stomach.

He took a running start and leapt into the air, soaring on bat wings that suddenly stretched wider than he was tall. The ground disappeared far below him, but he could pick out every living being with perfect clarity. They were hi̢͙̱͙̟̳͙s̷̗, after all. And even if they weren’t, it’d be so easy to fix that.

He was falling asleep. He hoped that when he woke up, he’d still remember who he was.

---

Hours later, Mabel came home from school to discover Dipper huddled in the laundry basket, wingless, covered in blood, eyes squeezed shut, whispering “I’m sorry” over and over again.

She reached in, grabbed his hands, and pulled him out. His outfit was a mess. His face was crumpled. He opened his eyes, but seemed to be deliberately avoiding making eye contact with her. She’d seen him do this before. Whatever happened must’ve been pretty bad.

They stayed like that for a couple of minutes. She knew he’d talk when he was ready to. But he didn’t. Instead, he bent over and puked until the floor was covered in golden glitter and little chunks of goodness-knows-what.

She stood frozen in shock for a moment. This... was new. She wasn’t afraid, she was just... worried. Were demons supposed to be able to get sick? She didn’t know what was going on -- neither of them did, these days -- but she wanted him to be okay.

So she sat down beside him. Patted him on the back. Whispered that it was okay.

He leaned into her chest and started to cry.

And underneath his crying, she heard something rumble.

(AO3 link)

#gravity falls #transcendence au #dipper pines #alcor the dreambender #mabel pines #fic #my stuff #seiya you rock #and i felt inspired by your angst #blood

[a-mad-scientist-approaches]

The Mural

Based off @astriiformes and @saisai-chan‘s Atlantis AU of Gravity Falls. I found it recently and it’s stolen my heart! I tried to write these events out just as you guys said it would go down, but as it turns out, I completely misremembered the water-fight scene. Sorry XD.

It's super interesting that Ford can read. No one else in Atlantis can, after all. With this in mind, Dipper and Mabel think he can probably put that cool skill to use, especially since they know of a certain underwater mural that's fascinated them for some time.

They'll do that just as soon as they beat Stan at this water fight.

AO3

Part 1    Part 2

“Ford, do you wanna see this nerd mural or not?” Said Stan impatiently, following Dipper and Mabel towards the edge of the pool.

“Yes, yes, just a second,” Ford replied from his half-crouch where he was having one last-minute flip-through of the Journal.

“By ‘nerd mural’ I hope you mean ‘the eons-old history of our people that should be duly treated with respect’,” Dipper glared at Stan, pausing on his way down the submerged steps. Mabel was already treading water a little way out.

“Uh, yeah. Definitely. That’s what ‘nerd’ means,”

Dipper narrowed his eyes, not convinced.

“Hurry up, hurry up!” Urged Mabel enthusiastically, spitting out some water as her treading splashed her in the face. “You gotta see it, it’s so shiny and cool! Come on! Oh, you two know how to swim, right?” She asked as an afterthought.

“Yeah kid, we know how to swim. We might be a thousand years younger than you, but we’re not newbies at this.” Unconcernedly, Stan stripped off his shirt and trousers, leaving them in a pile by the water’s edge, his gun folded up carefully inside them. He made a face at the slimy feeling of the cool, mossy ground between his toes.

Both sets of pale blue eyes looked at him doubtfully.

“We’re not!” He protested.

“Okay, okay . . .”

The water wasn’t freezing, thankfully. It was actually quite pleasant. As he made his way down the slippery steps, however, Stan’s boxers filled up with air like the pond was using them as balloons. He awkwardly squashed them back down, wincing at the loud farting noise the action made.

“HA!” Mabel called in delight. “You call that a pool fart?” She drew up her tunic and made her own big air bubble, pushing it underwater with an even louder PPPPPFFHHHHRRRRRP sound and such a victorious expression that Stan had to laugh.

“You guys are both wrong,” Dipper rolled his eyes. As Mabel stuck her tongue out at him, he continued, “This is how you do a pool fart.” He clapped a hand under his armpit and squeezed his upper arm over it. Against how Stan felt science or whatever was supposed to work, it made a very loud squeeeeeeeeeeBLAT, winning the competition and making Mabel inhale some water again as she laughed.

Distraction over, Stan barked, “Sixer!” over the backdrop of her chokes and I’m fine!’s.

“Coming, Stan,” said Ford irritably, snapping shut the Journal. He pulled off his boots and socks . . . and that was it.

“You don’t want anything dry to get into afterwards?” said Stan flatly, as his brother hovered one foot over the pond’s surface, still clothed head to ankle.

Frowning, Ford conceded the point and took off his coat.

“Scandalous,” Stan rolled his eyes. “Look, the gremlins aren’t gonna care, Ford!”

“No, they won’t!” encouraged Mabel.

“What’re gremlins?” questioned Dipper.

“They’re you,” answered Stan.

“So . . . what are we?”

“You’re gremlins,”

“But, like . . . does it refer to Atlanteans, or children, or what? What are they?”

“I told ya kid, they’re you,”

“What?! But- But that’s not an answer-” Dipper said in frustration as Stan openly grinned at him. Back on the shore, Ford undressed down to some more appropriate swimming gear, revealing (gasp!) stripy boxers and a dark undershirt, which he indicated with a glare were his absolute limit.

“You can’t just say that we’re gremlins and gremlins are us! Stan, come on, what does it mean?”

“I keep telling ya kid, but it’s not my fault you’re not listening. Jeez, what’s his deal?” Stan said, not even attempting to hide his laughs to a paddling Mabel, who giggled.

“Ford!” Dipper complained.

“It’s a term of affection for someone mischievous,” Ford informed him, coming down the steps.

Stan crossed his arms defensively at what he knew was coming.

“Aww!” Mabel beamed at him.

Dipper was suddenly smiling happily at Stan. “Really?” he asked. He looked at his sister for a moment, and then said matter-of-factly, “Well, gremlins to you too, Stanley and Stanford,”

Stan felt his face warm up slightly. “Ruin all the fun, why don’t you Sixer?”

“And if he’s stubborn feel free to splash him,” Ford continued, kicking an explosion of white water into Stan’s face.

When his eyes (and nose, and throat, and lungs, and possibly brain – that had been a lot of water to breathe in) had finished stinging and he could see clear enough again, he saw Dipper looking at him slyly. Mabel wasn’t anywhere in sight.

“No, no, NO-!”

And he was underwater in a flurry of bubbles again, discovering that while Mabel may have been small, she had a ton of force behind her. The steps slipped out from under him, and he couldn’t find them again. When she started tickling him, he thought it was probably the greatest self-control he had ever showed in his life that he didn’t breathe in and end up drowning. As it was, he spasmed in the water until he caught both of Mabel’s hands in one of his, pinning her tightly to his chest in an inescapable grip. They surfaced like a sea monster.

“Holy Moses, kid,” he gasped. Mabel was cackling breathlessly as she strained to wriggle away. Opposite them, Ford stood with a self-satisfied smirk on his face.

Ha, we’ll see about that . . .

Stan determinedly shook his hair out of his eyes and grinned evilly back.

“Ready?” he asked Mabel, hefting her slightly. She violently shook her head, but shrieked “YES!!” all the same, so he figured she was fine.

“INCOMING!” He shouted, and launched the girl at his brother. With an expertly executed water bomb, she splashed right in front of Ford, drenching him all the way up to his glasses. Stan didn’t see what happened with them next though, because all of a sudden Dipper was laughing triumphantly in his ear as he scrambled onto Stan’s shoulders. Knowing exactly what this called for, Stan grabbed the boy’s legs firmly, then hurried up a couple steps before falling backwards into the pool again with an almighty tidal wave.

The next few minutes were a blur of activity, laughing, yelling, and of course, splashing, but it ended when Mabel, by that point on Ford’s shoulders, managed to push Dipper off Stan’s shoulders and Stan subsequently cheated and pushed Ford over as well. He would have been proud that he was the last one standing, if he hadn’t been so winded.

Gasping, Ford surfaced and collapsed next to him on the upper steps. Mabel crawled up towards them as well, hiccoughing and giggling, to settle in his brother’s lap with a squelch. Dipper lay across Stan’s legs and stared at the sky, taking deep breaths and letting them out with the occasional laugh.

“I see you still play dirty,” Ford said to him, straightening his glasses.

“And you still lose,” Stan grinned back, unthinkingly clapping (well, slapping) him on the shoulder and bumping their heads together affectionately.

Ford stiffened. Stan hurriedly took his hand back and cleared his throat. There was a silence which wasn’t quite as tense as the occasional angry, post-argument silences they had had previously, but regardless, neither of them knew what to say.

It’d be much simpler if I didn’t actually want to go back to being . . . well, like the kids, Stan reflected, frowning at the rippling surface of the pool.

“Stan?” Ford said quietly.

“Yeah?” He said gruffly, wishing that Ford would just leave well enough alone. He got it, okay? Ford didn’t have to tell him to stop acting like everything was fine, he understood that it wasn’t. Yeah, maybe he’d forgotten that for a moment, but he was back on track again. No need for him to actually say anything.

“We should . . . talk. When this is all over. We should talk properly,”

Dipper had gone very quiet and was obviously eavesdropping, and Mabel was trying to pretend that she was too engrossed with fiddling with Ford’s fingers to notice what else was going on.

“Yeah. That . . . yeah.” Stan even managed a nod. And it wasn’t even a sappy nod. Just a plain, normal nod and agreement, a solid acknowledgement about what was the best course to go forwards with, nothing in the slightest to reveal that all of a sudden Stan might, hypothetically, be feeling an intense sensation of relief and happiness pulsing through his heart.

“Okay,” said Ford, looking at him.

“Okay,” Stan replied, looking back.

Ford gave a nervous sort of smile and nudged Stan’s shoulder with his own.

“Alright,” he said, lifting Mabel off him and standing up. “We really should see those ruins now. No more delays,”

“You’re the reason we had both delays,” Mabel pointed out as they re-entered the depths of the pool and swam off the edge of the last step, treading water in the very centre.

“Finally,” Dipper peeled himself off Stan and headed out towards them as well.

Stan stood up too, and then realised something: it was very likely that by the end of this, Ford wouldn’t want to speak to him any more. Maybe even for good, this time.

No. No, he could figure something out, talk him around to seeing things like the rest of the crew. It wouldn’t be pleasant either way, but one alternative left him with a brother as good as dead to him (again). However much Stan might be feeling uncomfortable about Rourke’s plans now, that scenario was number one on the list of things he didn’t want to happen.

“You coming?” Dipper raised an eyebrow quizzically at him.

“Yep, be right there,” Stan said, snapping out of the thoughts. Taking a deep breath, they all sank into the dark depths.

The underwater silence pressed oddly against his ears, especially after the loudness that the water fight had brought. The darkness was only broken by two bright blue lights shining out of the crystals tied around the kids’ necks. Not for the first time, Stan found himself thinking that he had to get his hands on some of them.

The lights guided him and Ford deeper and deeper, colder and colder. On the edge of visibility, he caught flashes of ancient ruins, the stairs from above continuing down where they swam. He was starting to get nervous. How long did they have to hold their breath? Would he be able to find his way back if he had to?

Suddenly, the cloud of white hair that was Mabel changed direction, tilting upwards. Feeling the pressure increase on his lungs, Stan followed her as quickly as he could, Dipper and Ford rising with him.  

His head broke into open air, and then thunked off something metallic.

“Ow!”

“Watch your head!”

“Thanks, sweetie,” he groaned.

“Everyone okay?” asked Dipper, coming up into the tiny, enclosed space as well.

Ford gasped for breath, seeming to have the least lung capacity out of all of them. “I’ll survive,”

It really was cramped now. All four of them were touching in some way or other: Dipper’s cheek was jammed against Stan’s shoulder, Mabel was squashed against the stone wall between him and Ford, and speaking of him and Ford, they kept kicking each other’s shins as they tried to keep their heads above the water.

“Okay, the mural’s just down there,” If Dipper pointed somewhere, none of them saw it. “The writing’s just above the star,” he told Ford.

“Alright,” Ford nodded. They both ducked underwater again. Mabel went after them, leaving Stan no choice but to follow – unless he wanted to wait alone in the tiny, utterly dark, cold space.

Mural was an understatement. Was mega-ral a word? It should have been for this thing. Stan had never seen one so big. He felt his jaw drop, and a bubble of air escaped him.

The edges stretched away into darkness, but the light provided by Dipper and Mabel showed the section immediately in front clearly. Giant stone people were depicted with their arms outstretched, guarding an enormous white pointy ball thing – the star, Stan guessed.

A tap on his arm made him turn to Mabel, who grinned broadly and gesticulated wildly, somehow managing to convey without words the scope of her ecstasy at the beautiful, faintly glimmering, work of art. Stan nodded and gave her a thumbs-up.

Ford floated close to the mural, putting a hand out to touch it. Dipper swam close to him, holding up his glowing crystal so Ford could see. Like he had said, runes – Atlantean writing – had been carved above the star in faded golden letters. From what Ford had shown him, Stan could pick out a few letters, maybe half a word, but nothing more.

Ford started gesturing excitedly and grabbed Dipper’s crystal, brandishing it at the confused boy. They headed back up to the pocket of air.

“That star!” Said Ford in a spray of water. “It’s the Heart of Atlantis! It’s keeping everything here alive! And it’s not a star, it’s a crystal!”

“Like these?” asked Mabel, holding up hers.

“Exactly like those! I should have realised earlier; that’s the power source we’ve been looking for, Stan! It’s also most likely the cause of the light you two remember seeing!” He added to Dipper and Mabel, who looked at each other wide-eyed.

“But it’s huge!” said Stan.

“Well it would be,” said Ford, as though that was obvious. “It’s an immense source of energy! The opportunity to study it-” He shook his head, water flying everywhere again. “We just have to find it first,”

“Right,” nodded Stan, glad that the bobbing shadows mostly obscured his expression.

“This should have been in the Journal,”

“Maybe it was, and you just didn’t see it?” suggested Dipper.

“Perhaps. But I’m getting a bad feeling about those missing pages now,” said Ford grimly. Stan stayed quiet. Now that this had come up, he had his own suspicions about where those pages were.

Glancing uneasily at each other, Dipper and Mabel led them back to the surface. By the time they reached it, Ford was back to being wildly eager about what they had found.

“Kids, that was amazing! There aren’t any more places like that, are there? Preferably above ground?”

“Sorry,” said Dipper, stroking towards the steps.

“We could show you the throne room, if you want,” said Mabel. “It’s got a pond, and a couch,”

“Sounds fantastic!” Grinned Ford broadly, splashing onto the steps and scooping both kids up. He forgot about how slippery the submerged surface was though, and plunged right back under water again.

“For cryin’ out loud,” Stan muttered, rooting around in the water until he found Mabel and drew her up to lighten Ford’s load. He plopped her on one of the shallower steps as Ford resurfaced, coughing. Dipper thumped him on the back. Stan couldn’t help but start to smile again.

“Alright. Journal,” said Ford, wiping the water and hair out of his eyes. In doing so, he saw what was happening around the pool. Stan looked at his expression and turned.

“Alright. Heart of Atlantis,” responded Rourke, emerging out of the shadows with his hands on his hips, those oddly unblinking eyes and too-wide smile present on his face. With him came the rest of the crew. Not only Soos, and Wendy, and even Susan, but most, if not all, of the masked armed forces that had come with them. They were all carrying guns, and one or two had explosives on bandoliers across their chests. Mabel and Dipper stirred uneasily.

The recently-recovered smile slid off Stan’s face. Rourke met his eyes and gave an almost imperceptible jerk of his head. Slowly, Stan stepped out of the water and made his way over to his bundle of clothes.

“What’s going on?” said Ford warily.

“You’re taking me to the Heart of Atlantis, Fordsy. Then we’ll just chuck it on our good ol’ submarine and be away with it,” answered Rourke easily.

“What? No, no, we can’t do that,” said Ford immediately. Stan silently cursed as he pulled on his shirt. His brother really needed to learn when to shut up. “The Heart keeps Atlantis alive! If we take it away . . .” Ford seemed lost for words for a moment, “the city – the people could all die! We have to study it here,”

Rourke raised a finger. “Could. They could all die. I’m A-OK to take that chance. Oh, don’t look so glum, kiddos! I’m sure you’ll be fine.” He added, noticing the way the younger twins were tensing, Mabel’s fists closing and one of Dipper’s hands straying closer to his thigh.

“Stan?” Mabel asked quietly. He didn’t answer, concentrating hard on pulling on his boots.

“You – you can’t be serious,” Ford said in disbelief.

“Deadly,”

Stan stood up. “Ford,”

His brother’s eyes flicked over to him. Stan picked his gun up off the stone floor. He didn’t aim it, but regardless, the message couldn’t have been clearer.

“Do what he says,”

#gravity falls #fanfiction #atlantis au #i'm sick so this is what i do #stanley pines #stanford pines #dipper pines #mabel pines #water fights and fluff #for the most part #hahaha #full disclosure I have not watched Atlantis the Lost Empire in so long #i can barely remember it #but i loved it #and this au

[timmyrx2000]

Dipper Steps Up: Chapter 11

Chapter Index: (1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13)

Chapter 11

Wendy tiptoed downstairs early the next morning and woke Dipper. "Hey, dude," she said, sitting on the sofa next to where he lay huddled in a blanket. "Wanna go for a walk and show me your nabe?"

"Uh—what?" Dipper asked, holding onto the blanket a little more tightly.

"Your neighborhood, man!" Wendy said, grinning. "See, I've only ever been to California like three times before this, and we never got anywhere near as far south as the Bay area. I wanna see where you live."

"S-sure," Dipper said. "Where are my, uh, jeans?"

"Here ya go."

He took them. "Th-thanks. If, uh, you know, you might want to step into the hall—"

"C'mon, man! I got three brothers! I gotta take you campin' so you can get over some of these hang-ups! Or—hey, don't tell me you sleep raw?" She playfully grabbed the blanket, and he held on to make sure she couldn't yank it down.

She flipped it up instead. "Yup," she said. "I kinda figured you for a tighty-whitey guy. Get your jeans and shoes on. We don't have a whole lot of time."

She had changed to her normal outfit of green plaid flannel shirt over a white undershirt, jeans, her logging boots—and Dipper's pine-tree hat. He donned her trapper hat, and she chuckled. "Remember, dude, we have a date in June to meet in the Shack and exchange headgear again!"

They sauntered along the rows of houses, Dipper stammering out an excuse that it was only suburbia, after all. "Yeah," she said, "but it's interesting to me! I mean, my whole life we've lived away out in the woods, like five miles from our closest neighbor. This looks friendlier."

He had the inspiration to take her to Piedmont Park, which meandered for a good many acres and featured hills, a small stream (complete with waterfall), a fountain—normal park stuff, as Soos might say. And on the trail, she—she reached out and took his hand. "You were real brave," Wendy said. "Mabel told me all about it."

Dipper shrugged. "Chuck's a good friend. Couldn't let a ghost get him."

"Yeah, but Ford says old Nathaniel always held a grudge in life. You watch your butt from now on, hear? And if you see any sign of him, you get on the horn to me right away. Don't wait until he shows up dragging a chain through your bedroom or some junk."

A couple of fit-looking women in headbands and leotards, out jogging on this early Sunday morning, ran toward them, chatting. They waved and smiled.

When they had pounded past, Dipper said miserably. "Now they'll talk about how I'm way too short for you. And too young. They'll make fun of us."

She squeezed his hand. "So what? Let 'em giggle. And you know, you've grown like four inches since last summer. I think I finally leveled off, so you're catchin' up a little." They stopped in the middle of a wooden bridge, and Wendy added, "Mm, we could almost be out in the woods here. This is nice, man. Hey, let me see if you're really too short for me."

Dipper wasn't prepared. She leaned—just a little—and kissed him quickly on the lips. Then, ruffling his hair and smiling, she whispered, "Mm, dude, not too short at all."

For the rest of the way, he walked on air.

Ford insisted that Mabel and Dipper accompany him and Wendy to the hospital. They arrived a little ahead of time. Though Chuck was sleeping, Mrs. Taylor was already awake, and they found an empty waiting room for a quick conversation. "I keep hearing what a wonderful doctor you are," she said.

Ford shrugged. "Mostly based on a few papers I did for medical journals. I'm not in practice. However, this is—a special case, as you know. Tell me: How much does Chuck remember?"

She shook her head. "Not very much at all. From the time he blacked out, he says he just has flashes, like pieces of a dream that he's almost forgotten. He sort of remembers jumping out the window, but then nothing until Dipper and Mabel pushed him down in the labyrinth."

"That's when the spirit of Nathaniel Northwest was forced out of him," Ford said.

"He—he says he felt—not angry at them, but—but sad, because it was like he'd lost something."

"His own spirit was dormant within him," Ford said. "Believe me, if the kids had been just a minute late, Chuck would have been thrust completely out of his body, fully aware—but invisible. He would have become the ghost, and Nathaniel would have taken over his body completely."

"And that's a terrible feeling," Dipper said. When Mrs. Taylor stared at him, he added, "I know. Don't ask me how, but I do."

A few minutes later, Chuck woke up still feeling a little groggy, and his left arm obviously hurt him. He acted embarrassed when Mabel kissed his cheek. "I, uh—was I talking crazy yesterday, Mabel?"

"Meh," she said, shrugging. "Nothing so cray-cray that I hated it!" She glanced around and lowered her voice. "So—you still want to hang out with me?"

"Yeah!" he said, and immediately blushed.

"You got it," Mabel said happily.

Ford, Dipper, and his mom explained to him exactly what had happened, and he grew pale. But then Ford handed Mabel a thin chain with a tiny gem. "Give it to him," he said. When Chuck took it from her, Ford said seriously, "Chuck, this will protect you. We can't destroy a ghost, but we've dealt him a blow that he'll have to recover from before he can be a threat. As long as you wear this, you're safe. Now, when you're twenty-one, the threat is over. You can take it off the day after your twenty-first birthday—but hang on to it. When you marry, and if you have children, pass it along to your first son."

Now Chuck blushed again. He looked sideways at Mabel. "Uh—what if it's twins?"

Dipper had to turn away to keep from laughing where Chuck could see him. But Ford very seriously said, "One will still be the first-born son, and he's the one you have to protect. Remember that."

Dipper recovered his poise and said, "Until then, tell the guys on the team that a girl—"

"Your girl," Wendy corrected. Mabel giggled.

"Your girl," Dipper continued, "gave it to you and it's your lucky charm."

Chuck sighed. "I—won't be on the team," he said. "Broken arm will put me out for the rest of the season."

"Next year, then!" Mabel said. "'Cause you're no quitter!"

Chuck reached for her hand. "Next year," he said, making it sound like a promise.

All too soon, Ford and Wendy had to leave for the Oakland airport—"Second time I've been in a plane, guys!" Wendy said. "Stanley told me it would be awful, but I like it!"

Practice started again Monday afternoon. The team heard the news and practice went—well, terrible, to be honest. As Coach Waylund patiently pointed out the many errors and problems, Dipper said, "Uh, Coach? Chuck will come back to school on Wednesday or Thursday. Is it OK if he comes to practice? To, you know, watch and advise us?"

"I'll be disappointed if he doesn't," Waylund said. "Tell him that. By the way, Pines, where's your cap?"

"Uh, it, uh, blew off," Dipper said. "I couldn't find it."

"Well, pick up a replacement before Saturday's game," Waylund said. "That fur thing is an interesting fashion statement, but it won't do for playing baseball. Did you go back and look for the cap?"

"I couldn't find it," Dipper said. That was a white lie. A team of horses chained to him couldn't drag him back to that labyrinth.

Chuck made it to Thursday practice, not dressed out, but wearing his own cap. He watched the guys practice fielding, and during a break he called Dipper over. "Take off your trapper hat," he said. Then he clapped his own baseball cap onto Dipper's head. "Here, use mine. I won't need it for the rest of the season."

Dipper touched the brim. "Aw—thanks, man. Up high!"

Mabel had started coming to every single practice—in fact now she sat in the dugout—and she said, "Don't worry, Chuck, I'll buy you a new one myself! And Brobro, don't you ever get rid of that one! That's your lucky charm!"

The Saturday game was against the Palo Alto Pirates—not a game that the team would dread, ordinarily, since the Panthers and Pirates were on a roughly equal footing and had very similar win-loss records.

However, without Chuck . . ..

In the locker room, guys got dressed out and sat in gloom on the benches, muttering to each other and pounding their fists in their gloves. Dipper felt edgy and couldn't stop pacing, his cleats clicking on the tile floor. He had a sinking feeling that everything was about to go wrong—and it would be mostly his fault. He'd been lousy in the last three practices.

He kept adjusting Chuck's cap on his head and telling himself, "Calm down, calm down, calm down!" That only made him more nervous.

Then he heard a couple of guys yell, and he turned to see Chuck grinning, wearing his jersey—except only one button was buttoned, so it could hang over his cast like a cloak. He was high-fiving everyone, Barb, Bobby, Petey, Kenk. "So, who died?" he yelled. "C'mon, you guys, show a little life! The Pirates are pushovers!"

He scooped up Dipper's batting helmet and smooshed it into Hi-Ho's face. "Smells like victory!" Chuck yelled.

"Foo! Victory stinks, man!" Hi-Ho shot back, shoving the smelly helmet away. He hugged Chuck, carefully, avoiding the cast, which now sported dozens of autographs, including the whole team, plus a great big red heart with MABEL in squooshy-looking balloon letters. "Seriously, dude, good to have you here. You gonna sit in the dugout?"

"Duh!" Chuck said. "I'm gonna keep notes, too, so you guys play good, or you'll have to answer to me."

Well, that was a positive send-off. Too bad it didn't last.

The game didn't begin badly. The Pirates won the toss and chose to bat first—always their preference, because their coach believed getting on the board early was a key to shaking up an opposing team. They did score one run, but in the bottom of the second Piedmont not only tied, but got one up when Mike crossed the plate. Unfortunately, the next batter popped out and the Panthers took the field again.

Dipper couldn't shake his attack of nerves. He kept pounding his glove and scraping his cleats as he played second, but he had the panicky feeling that if he went for a line drive he'd miss it. Or fumble the ball when trying to tag out a runner. Do something stupid.

Mabel, who had become a crowd favorite, was working extra hard, boogying, turning cartwheels, leaping, leading enthusiastic cheers. That day, she seemed more a distraction than a morale booster to Dipper. He felt bad that Chuck was watching his lackluster performance and kept thinking how much better it would be if Chuck could stand on the mound.

By the time the fifth inning ended, each team had upped its score, and the teams were locked in a 3-3 tie. And as the sixth started, everything just fell apart.

The first Pirate up to bat hit a clean single, and he led off first base so far that Dipper kept trying to send telepathic messages to Jon-J on the mound: Throw to first!

It didn't work. The next man up smacked a long fly past Petey, the right fielder, who finally backpedaled and misjudged it, catching it on the bounce. He threw to Dipper, but wide, and though Dipper managed—barely—to get to the throw and catch it, the runner was already standing on second base. Dipper threw the ball to the pitcher and watched Jon-J shaking his head and smacking the ball hard into his glove. Bobby, catching, sent him two signals that he shook off.

Jon-J had a good fastball, and he tried it. The batter swung, missing by a mile. That seemed to give Jon-J heart, and he threw a deliberate ball, then sizzled another fastball past the batter for a called strike. He risked one more fastball—and the batter fanned it. The next man up, though, the biggest player for the Pirates, hit another single, sending a man home and putting the Pirates up by one run. And the next Pirate virtually copied the previous one, batting in another runner.

Maybe Jon-J had strained his arm. He walked the next man, loading the bases. And the next batter smacked a weak flyball that Dipper backed up and easily caught, firing it to Bobby for a double play.

The Panthers went in to bat with the score five to three, Pirates leading. Kenk got a single—barely running out the throw to first—but then Mike, who seemed as worried as Dipper felt, misjudged every pitch and went down swinging. Petey popped out. JD and Barb both got singles, loading the bases—and then Jon-J, who looked exhausted, struck out on four pitches, just managing a weak foul tip on one.

At the top of the seventh, Jon-J put his heart into pitching, but he was obviously tired and shaken up. The first Pirate up hit a fly straight into the center fielder's glove. The next one got a single on Jon-J's first pitch. The next hit to right field, where Petey DeFoy, maybe trying to compensate for his weak performance earlier in the game, bobbled the catch, temporarily lost the ball, and then hesitated before deciding where to throw it. The error stretched a single into a double and brought in another Pirate run. Even worse, Jon-J, now badly shaken, walked the next batter, again loading the bases.

To Dipper's surprise, the coach called a time out and motioned him to come in as he walked to the mound. He got there in time to hear Waylund say, "Your call, son."

Miserably, Jon-J said, "I can't concentrate, Coach. And my arm's gone. Pull me out."

"You got it. Good try, though. Pines—take the mound."

"Wh-what?" Dipper stammered. "Coach, no, I can't—"

"Taylor says you can."

Dipper looked over at the dugout. Chuck stood waving at him, and he gave Dipper a thumbs-up.

"Take the mound, son," Waylund said kindly. "Keep your mind in the game and do your best. That's all we're asking."

Dipper warmed up, but he wasn't used to pitching. Bobby helpfully offered suggestions by means of signals from behind home plate. Dipper took them all.

Oddly, his inexperience seemed an advantage at first. He could hit the strike zone, but his pitches were erratic enough to baffle the first man up, who popped a little looper right to first base, where it was caught and fired home before the Pirates could try for another run. The next batter swung at two of Dipper's pitches—not fastballs, exactly, and not curves, but, well, dippers—but then connected for a single. And another run crossed the plate, putting the Pirates up 7-3, with the bases still loaded.

As if from a great distance, he heard Mabel off in front of the grandstand: "Dipper! Dipper! Put him out! That's what pitching's all about!"

Do it for sis.

He took a deep breath and pitched. Swung on for strike one. He considered the second and went for the outside corner, just missing it. Ball one. Strike zone again, but a little high—and the batter got a piece of it, sending a skipping grounder off to Dipper's left. Dipper lunged for it, fielded it, and whipped it to Bobby, who got the runner out as he started a desperate slide.

Then as they came to bat, it was do-or-die time for the Panthers. X-man, who looked exhausted, struck out and plodded back to the dugout. Hi-Ho got a respectable double—though he barely beat the throw to second. Bobby, who acted a little fresher than the rest of the team, hit what first looked like a home run, but it lost altitude going into the slot between left and center field, and the center fielder was just a little too slow and the hit ran out of steam and bounced off the chain-link fence. Still, Bobby, too, made it to second, and Hi-Ho scored.

And there the rally ended. Dub popped out. Dipper stepped to the plate tense and shaking, his hands soaked with sweat inside the batting gloves. He couldn't control his breathing or his pounding heart.

He was just as bad at bat as he had been back in the fall at the first practice. With the sweat of anxiety stinging his eyes, he couldn't judge the pitches and struck out one, two, three, even going after an impossible outside ball.

The Panthers lost seven to four.

And Dipper dragged into the dugout thinking It's all my fault.

He had no option. For the good of the team—

He'd have to quit.

To be continued

Note from the Authors: This was just an idea I had but the one who really worked his magic and wrote almost all of this is none other than BillEase. He’s an amazing author who usually hangs out at fanfiction.net. Don’t pass up on a chance to check out his stuff. This guy is AMAZING. He wrote the story, I just gave the plot.

#gravity falls #gf #au #baseball #dipper pines #dipper #mabel pines #mabel #Mabel and Dipper #dipper and mabel #wendy #wendy corduroy #dipper and wendy #fanfiction #fanfic #gf fanfiction #gravity falls fanfiction #gf fandom #wendip #Chapter 11 #Dipper Steps Up

[pinewreaths]

The Signal, Part Four

[Previous]

[Gravity Scars AU]

“Can this be portable in the next three minutes?”

Ford stammered for a second, then blurted out “M-maybe? Stanley, this is a complicated piece of machinery, to say nothing of the fixed location of the rail antennae conductors we installed-”

There was a garbled burst of static from the radio, a whispering breathy noise audible even through the rumble of the train car.

He turned back to his brother triumphantly. “See? It’s already producing measurable results!”

Grunkle Stan gritted his teeth. “Sixer, if this contraption isn’t portable in two and a half minutes, we’re going to have God knows what sort of special forces knocking violently on the door, and I suspect they won’t give a damn what sort of ‘measurable results’ you’ve found.”

His eyes glittered dangerously for a moment. “Take it from a lifelong criminal element, Ford: know when to cut and run. This is one of those times.”

The twins locked eyes for a moment, before Ford threw up his hands in a frustrated sigh. Dipper was already working on hooking up another boxy device to the radio set, as Ford began to yank cushions out of the seat after voicing his approval.

“Good plan. Let me cut an entry hole for the cabling, and I think we can still receive a strong signal if you wire the transmitter antenna wire up the back of the seat.” He flipped open a futuristic-looking pocketknife, and a three-inch plasma blade hissed into life. There was a puff of acrid smoke, and then a sizzle as it cut a neat scorched hole in the side of the plastic chair housing. The radio and associated devices were quickly unplugged, nestled into the normally-inaccessible space below the seat. Cables were reattached, and the whole affair was then hidden by the replacement of the seat panel and cushion.

Dipper triumphantly hefted what looked like a misshapen walkie-talkie, and clicking the power on resulted in a familiar crackle of static.

Stanley, who had been watching his wristwatch the whole time and tapping an impatient foot, clapped his hands together.

“Great! Now, our guests have almost arrived, so it’s time to find a hiding place, or barring that, a place we can make a quick disembark from.”

Even as he spoke, the sound of the helicopter rotors was clearly audible over the background noises of the traincar. Maybe it was Dipper’s imagination, but he could almost already hear the sound of footsteps across the top of the car.

Making their way out of the cabin and down the hallway to the next car, Dipper continued fiddling with adjustments to the controller, occasionally passing it back and forth between him and Ford as they tried to tune into the right settings.

Ford grimaced as they ducked past a family with squealing toddlers and a very harangued-looking mother and father. “Oh come on: we’re working with almost a hundred and fifty miles of contiguous tracks, so there’s got to be some combination that can-”

Abruptly, the static that had been fading overall as Ford and Dipper adjusted the settings this way and that died, replaced by a clearly-audible yet quiet breathing. Ford gave a whoop of excitement, echoed by Dipper even as other passengers within earshot gave them odd looks.

The excitement was cut short by the set of thumping boots on the traincar roof, clear and distinct even before the sound of a drill began in earnest. The first screw of the overhead hatch dropped to fall at the Pines family’s feet.

“Move then talk,” Grunkle Stan nearly chanted, as he grabbed his brother by one wrist and Dipper by the other to yank them behind him towards the next car. “Move, then talk.”

It wasn’t until three cars later that Stan finally stopped, and ushered the others into an empty cabin. After cautiously glancing out and then lowering the blinds, he finally took a cautious sigh of relief.

“Okay, I think we’ve bought some time. Not much time, of course, but some.”

Mabel cocked her head. “Why didn’t we go all the way to the back?”

Leaning back in the seat, Stanley chuckled and grinned.

“Because they’re probably expecting us to high-tail it out of there. If I were them, I’d have put a team down on our car, on the rear, and probably one at the front, just to be safe.” He nodded towards the closed and shuttered door. “They’ll be sweeping towards each-other, so picking the midpoint between our original cabin and the back of the train gives us the most time to work with before they reach us.”

Mabel made a little “Oooooh” of understanding, before going to meet Dipper and Ford over by the handheld controller and receiver. The breathing was still audible, and so with a careful slow breath of his own, Dipper tensed, and thumbed the ‘Send’ button.

“Uh, h-hello there?”

There were a lot of things the Pines might have expected the entity on the other side to do, ranging from horrible nightmare-inducing shocks to outright ignoring them.

What they hadn’t expected was an almost girlish shriek of alarm.

“Gaaah! What the hell?”

“Uh, who is this? We received your earlier message, but-”

“D-Dipper? It’s me! It’s Tyrone! Holy crap, I wasn’t able to sustain the radio signal strength, and was catching my breath to try again!”

“Wel, we boosted the receiver strength, so we could-” Dipper paused.

“Wait, ‘catch your breath’? Tyrone, we’ve been out of contact with you for half a week. H-How long have you been resting?”

There was an echoing chuckle. “An hour, maybe two: It was a draining experience. I’m not surprised the time dilation stuff is weird, given the weirdness of my general living situation.”

This time Grunkle Ford cleared his throat and spoke up.

“Tyrone, it’s Ford. Uh, your Grunkle; not that we’ve spoken before, but yes, well, it’s never too late to make a first impression and all that-”

Tyrone’s voice chuckled through the radio.

“Hi Grunkle Ford. Nice to, well, nice to meet you at long last. What’s up?”

“Well, Tyrone, I’ve spoken with many a ghost in my day, but you’re-well, you’re different. You’re in between the Void and our dimension, rather than haunting our dimension like most spirits. You age as well: you’re the same age as Mabel and Dipper from the sounds of it, rather than un-aging at the time of your death. And speaking of death-”

The temperature in the cabin seemed to drop a few degrees as Ford asked. “-how did you become a ghost? You don’t sound purpose or vengeance-driven, so how and why are you here?”

“I...I’m not sure. It was ages, years, before I had even begun to realize what I was, what had happened. At times, it seemed like moments would pass you two by as I struggled to survive a rush of months.” The voice on the other end of the radio took a deep, heavy breath.

“It wasn’t until Dipper used the copy machine that I found out what my name should have been. When those clones died, either then or in the woods in the weeks afterwards in the Oregon fall rains, I was nearby, and was able to absorb a part of them in their passing. It gave me memories: not enough to recall everything, but enough to boost my awareness from a half-remembered fever dream to my current, still-trapped state.”

“Let’s just say that I believe Pact has more than a little to do with it. He enabled me to even speak at all in this trapped state, an event I have been looking forward to for a long time. In any case, it sounds like it also spent my remaining bargainable wish uses with the demon as well.”

There was a long pause, each of the Pines members with their jaws open in shock. Finally Stanley gave a low whistle.

“Well hell, kid, it sounds like you’ve been in some real shit then. Heh.” The trademark grin returned. “Welcome to the family!”

There was a clatter from outside the cabin, as the door on one end of the traincar slid open. Stan straightened, squinted out, and swore before ducking back down.

“Well, it’s both better and worse than I feared: it’s the Feds.”

“Wait, ‘Feds’ as in ‘Federal agents?” Ford snorted. “We’ve beaten them before. What’s the bad news?”

“That it’s not simple mercenaries. Mercs, I can deal with: Offer enough resistance, enough of a payday, and they’ll look the other way. Feds, though, are tenacious. They’re paid by the hour.”

He sighed. “The over-under is that we’re less likely to get shot if they find us, but the downside is that they’re way more likely to find us.”

Reinforcing his point was the distant sound of a cabin door sliding open and a muffled, barked conversation. Stanley looked off in the direction of the search, before turning back to their own cabin window.

“Hey, Mabel honey, how long does that trip app of your say it was going to be until we’re over another body of water?”

Mabel tapped on her phone a few times, wincing. “Uh, Grunkle Stan, I don’t suppose we’d be okay for, say, another 47 minutes?”

He snorted. “Mabel, sweety, I think we’d be in trouble in another four minutes.” He stepped over to their window, looking out at the view of the forest racing by and muttering to himself.

“Hmmm. Lots of boulders, thin grass, and treeline doesn’t start for another three hundred feet.” He eyed the window opposite of the door, across the exterior hallway from their door.

“Thick bushes, and almost immediately after that is the treeline. Best chance we’re gonna get, I think.”

He clapped and rubbed his hands together. “All right, Pines! We are making out exit, via that window,” he said, pointing. “Departing ASAP. Dipper and Sixer, you ready to scram?”

Tyrone’s voice was tight and panicked, but Dipper did his best to reassure him.

“Hey, Ty, it’ll be alright: if we were able to do this once, we can do it again. So we’ll talk soon, okay?”

There was a disappointed acknowledgement, and Dipper reluctantly snapped the set off.

“Great. Now, if we go piecemeal there’s a chance we’ll be tackled once they spot us. So, instead we’re going all together. On three, okay?”

The others nodded.

“One.”

Dipper and Mabel tensed, and Ford put on a pair of goggles pulled from one of his myriad pockets.

“Two.”

Dipper grabbed Mabel’s hand for a squeeze, the bracelets tapping together.

Good luck, Mabes. I love you.

Love you too, brobro., and good luck to you as well.

“Three!”

The cabin door almost burst open from the four bodies pushing through it. Dipper abstractedly heard a shout of alarm, but he was focused on the one step, then two, then tree, and the leap he took after Stan leapt. The window spiderwebbed and resisted for a moment before the combined weight of both older twins punched through, popping the window out of it’s frame.

Carried forward in mid-jump, Dipper and Mabel soared through the opening, and Dipper saw a flash of white and blue and grey and brown before something hit him like a jackhammer and everything went dark.

Continue

#pinecest #pinescest #pinecest fanfiction #wreathfic #fluff #Gravity Scars AU #drabble

[rum-and-shattered-dreams]

Chapter 11: Novel Ideas Summary: Exhausted, Stan is finally set free and rushes the surgery center. Ford struggles to come to terms with the reality he's been avoiding. Stan employs a solid coping mechanism in an attempt to help.

Notes: Warnings: emotional breakdown, restraints, arguing, nightmares

Thanks to everyone for your comments, questions, and input. It's all an inspiration and a huge help in building this AU. :D

Part One Part Two Part Three Part Four Part Five Part Six Part Seven (with illustration) Part Eight Part Nine (With link to more art!) Part Ten More fics An illustration (from part one) Stan wanted to wrap Dipper and Mabel in a crushing hug when they released him from public imprisonment.  But, he held back, mostly, because he figured they wouldn't want to be smothered in bits of tomato and old man sweat, but partly, because his back teeth had been floating for the past few hours and the slightest squeeze could be disastrous.  He jogged to the nearest bathroom as fast as his simultaneously numb and aching legs would carry him.  Every step sent a jolt through his sore soles but he made it to an outhouse and not a moment too soon. Once relieved, he pumped a bucket of water from a Pioneer Day prop and dumped it over his head, half amazed that the pump functioned and half unsurprised, given the town's obsession with the event.  He pumped and poured another bucketful, despite his rubbery arms, scrubbing dried tomato from his hair, brows, and stubble.  He mentally thanked Soos for stopping by that afternoon and cleaning the bulk of the tomato mess off before it could bake in the sun (and, he had to admit, for keeping him company for a while).  After drying his glasses with a cloth from his pocket, he rushed back to the car and kids. "We gotta get out of here!" he said, both out of sheer desperation to leave and because, by this point, he'd broken his promise to Ford.  Visit in the morning?  It's going to be night by the time I get there at this rate.  Once buckled in the driver's seat, he cranked up the heat, shivering as cold water dripped from his hair and soaked through his coat. On the way home, he spun a story about how he had been planning to take photos of creepy looking things in the woods for a new exhibit in the shack and how he'd have to go out tonight to do it since this was their only day off for the rest of the week.  "Heh, might be better anyway," he embellished his lie, "Things look a lot spookier at night." "Oh can I come with you?!" Dipper asked, his seatbelt stretching as he leaned forward in his seat.  "There are so many weird things out there, and I have this book that can probably help us find some of them!" "Thanks, kid, but no thanks.  I-uh..." Stan pondered a minute, knowing very well that if these kids were anything like he and his brother were, giving them a flat no would only make them more determined to follow him.  "Hey, maybe next time," he reasoned, "but this time I could really use your help making banners and decorations for the shack's fair this weekend.  Mabel, you think you're up for that?" "Are you kidding?!  I have buckets of paint just waiting for a project like this!  Dipper, can we?!" she begged, grabbing Dipper's vest and shaking him.  "Please please pleeeeaaaase?!" "Yeah.  Alright, I guess," he answered, tipping his hat back into place only to have it knocked off when she stretched over to hug him. "Great," Stan said with a relieved sigh, "Give Soos a call when I drop you off.  He's got the plans for everything.  Tell him I'll let him rig up the dunk machine if he comes over to help you." ****   With the kids safely back at the shack, Stan careened through the wooded roads.  Shit shit shit shit shit, his mind chanted, his heart thumping in double-time to the rhythm.  His eyes squinted in the setting sun's glare but he plowed forward, the Stanmobile practically flying off the peaks of hills as he left Gravity Falls and the valley behind.  He sped around corners, nearly tipping up on two wheels, his hands crushing the steering wheel in his grip. The sky shifted from hues of orange and pink to electric blue while buildings replaced towering trees along the roadside.  Ten minutes into the city, Stan searched for 5th street and the distinct, domed roof of the surgery center.  He cursed as he passed the turn anyway.  I like this doctor's style, though, he thought, hiding in plain sight.  He pulled an illegal u-turn in front of a honking pickup truck that he swore wasn't there a second ago.  As he swerved into the parking lot, the surgery center's neon sign lit up against the darkening sky.  He spun the wheel, parking haphazardly next to one of two other cars in the lot, Dr, Braum's SUV. "Ugh.  Ow!  Son of a-"  He moaned as he climbed out of the car.  His back cracked as he straightened it, muscles protesting from his shoulders straight down through his to thighs and calves.  It felt like the soles of his feet were bruised and bleeding from being stuck on them all day.  In the car's heat, it seemed like his hair and coat had nearly dried but the evening breeze cut through him as if he'd just dumped a pitcher of ice water over himself. In a series of grunts and groans, he hobbled to the sliding glass door.  When it refused to open, he pounded on the glass, hoping someone would hear him.  The janitor looked up from cleaning behind the reception desk and nodded.  She hurried to the door and unlocked it, sliding it open manually.  Stan sped through the moment he could fit. "Dr. Braum told me you might show up tonight," She said, closing and locking the doors. Stan pushed, pulled, and tried to slide open the double doors leading back to the surgery and recovery rooms but they refused to move. "Hold on and I'll let her know you're here." The janitor said, stepping behind the reception desk.  She picked up the phone's headset, her gloved fingers prodding at the phone's buttons. Dr. Braum picked up on the first ring. "He's here," the janitor explained, "Yeah, the old guy in a suit and fez.  Yeah.  Alright.  I'll buzz him through."  She pulled off the headset and pressed a button behind the desk.  "You can go on through now," she instructed.   Stan rushed into the back hall, past dark and empty rooms, prepped for surgery the next morning.  He nearly ran into the door that opened on the hall's left side, his shoes' soles squeaking against the hardwood floor as he stopped.  The door closed revealing a woman nearly larger than it with rainbow streaked hair pulled into a bun. "Oh, Dr. Braum.  I-" "Where the HELL have you been?" she reprimanded, her arms perched on her hips as she towered above him.  "You said you'd be here as soon as you could!" "This IS as soon as I could!"  He retorted, looking up to her with bloodshot eyes. "When you told my assistant that this morning, we assumed it meant less than thirteen hours later." "It did-" "We called you twelve times today and couldn't get a hold of you." "Why?  What's going on?  Is Ford alright?" Stan blurted, shifting his body to peek down the hall past Dr. Braum.  "Did he do something?" "Your brother's been having some nightmares that are affecting his heart rate and blood pressure," Dr. Braum explained, her hands lowering from her hips, one settling in her lab coat's pocket.  "The few times one of our nurses caught him awake and tried to talk to him, he told us to go away and, to be honest, she doesn't know him well enough to determine if it was him saying that or...  the other him." Nightmares were normal for both Ford and Stan, himself.  That was no surprise, though, he figured, it might be alarming to someone who's not used to it...  And even more alarming to him as he realized that he and Ford were used to it.  How had things gotten to the point where nightly nightmares were just a part of life?  Stan sighed and said, "Look, this has been one of the worst days of my life," he exaggerated, though not by much, "and, believe me, that's saying something, so can you let me by so I can see my brother, already?"  With a determined wrinkling of his nose, he bumped past the doctor, unsure of where he was going but willing to find out. "Wait, there's something I need to tell-" Before she could finish her sentence, Stan spotted a door on the right marked "maintenance" and grabbed the latch, rattling it when it wouldn't budge. Dr. Braum sighed and said, "Hold on.  I have to unlock it from the nurses station."  Her lab coat billowed behind her as she stepped around the desk and pressed a button.  The door buzzed and Stan was inside before she could say another word. The room was notably smaller than the others and smelled of disinfectant.  Darkness set in as the door closed behind him, the room lit solely by the strip of light under the door and illuminated numbers on a screen to the right.  From what Stan could tell, there were cabinets, a wash station, and a door standing ajar to his left.  To his right was Ford's bed, a rolling table, and various machines and monitors.  Beside the bed was a blocky chair.  As his eyes adjusted to the dark, Stan stepped forward, reaching for the nearest arm of the chair. "Ford," he said in a husky whisper, using the chair to guide him to the bed.  "Stanford?" No answer came aside from the rise and fall of breaths.  The back of the bed was raised about halfway and a blanket covered his brother's body up to his shoulders.  As Stan's eyes adjusted to the darkness, he could see Ford's head was turned away, his unbandaged eye clenched closed. "Ford.  I can tell you're not asleep," Stan said, with a muffled moan as he eased himself into the chair.  "I got here as soon as I could.  What happened?  How are you?" "Nothing.  I'm fine," he answered flatly.  "Are you alright?" he muttered in a detached tone, "And the kids?" "The kids are fine but it's been a Hell of a day for me.  I'm a bit sore but otherwise alright." "Good.  That's good." "Ford.  What's wrong?"  Stan asked, the wooden legs of his chair scraping as he angled it closer to the bed. "Nothing.  I was just worried about you when you didn't...  Nevermind." "Ford, I can explain-" "I said it's nothing!" He snapped, his limbs tensing against the restraints beneath his blanket.  "Just go away.  Please." Stan sighed, placing a hand on the bedside bar.  "No.  I'm not leaving until you talk to me.  What happened during surgery?  They said Bill didn't make it easy for them.  What did he do?  Has he been bothering you today?" Stan rattled off questions, his tone becoming more on edge as he spoke until a grim chuckle silenced him. "Oh sure," Ford said, "You're fine not being here all day and now you won't leave." "That wasn't my fault!  I-" "Get out," he demanded.  "Leave me alone!" "Bill...?  Or me?" "Both of you!" "Ford..." "Where were you all day?!" he shouted, his eye closed tight as if to prevent the flood of emotions.  "You promised...  And I TRUSTED you!  And you just left me here alone.  With him!" "Ford, I'm sorry!" Stan shouted, bolting up from his chair.  "I tried to get here but I got arrested!" "Arrested?" Ford, asked, concern woven into his inflection, as he turned to face Stan.  His hand reached for the light switch on the bedside rail and he pressed it once for its dimmest setting.  "For what?" he asked, the machine beside him registering his quickening pulse as he dreaded the answer.  Did Rico turn him in?  Did one of his aliases catch up with him?  I never even considered- "Ironically, for trying to get here faster," Stan explained. "What?"  Ford asked, his shoulders relaxing and pulse slowing.  His head lulled back against the pillow, nausea and sleepiness draining him. "I tried to drop the kids off in town but it was Pioneer day.  My car got stuck in the mud and when the mechanic wouldn't help me, I got angry and the cops thought it would be cute to lock me in the stocks all day." In a groggy half-yawn, his inhibitions obliterated, Ford corrected, "Pillories." "Huh?" "Stocks are for your ankles.  Unless it's changed over the years, the ones they use on Pioneer Day are-"  Ford's slurred words trailed off into another yawn. "And here I was worried about you all day, you pretentious-!"  Stan paused as his brother's eye slipped shut, his breaths deep and rhythmic.  "Did you seriously just fall sleep?"  Stan whispered in annoyance.  Exasperated, he flopped back into his chair, massaging his eyelids as he listened to the beeps of the monitor behind him.  In less than a minute their pace quickened again, nearly blurring together.  Stan leapt up, turning to look- "Wait..."  Ford mumbled, drawing Stan's attention back to him, "Why can't I...?  I can't...  I can't move!"  He jolted awake, his breath coming in heavy pants, sweat drenching his face. "It's alright," Stan said, using the bed rail to lift himself out of the chair.  "Ford, it's alright.  It was another nightmare.  It's alright," he reassured him in as calm a tone as he could muster, his hands reaching over the bedside bar to wrap around Ford's. The door slammed open and Dr. Braum rushed in.  "Dr. Pines?!"  She blurted, jogging to his bedside. "Another nightmare," Stan explained, the dark circles under his eyes more pronounced in the dim light as he looked up to her. "It's him," Ford panted, "He won't let me sleep.  He keeps-.  Every time I fall asleep, he-." "Wait," said Dr. Braum, leaning over the bed, "How can that be?  Lottie and the nurses said you were mostly sleeping today." She flinched back as Ford opened his eye, yellow and slit down the center by black.  "He's almost as good of an actor as the con man, here," Bill answered, nodding to Stan.  "Funny.  This whole set-up is too good to be true!  All I had to do was make sure he was awake for it all." Stan's eyes widened at the implication.  "All?  What do you mean, all?" "That surgery thing was an interesting experience," Bill said with a laugh, "Pretty great, I thought.  But I didn't want to hog all the fun so I just dropped in from time to time to make sure Fordsy, here, didn't miss anything." "I had a feeling," Dr. Braum whispered, shaking her head.  "We warned him there was a possibility he could wake up, especially under his circumstances, but he still said to go through with it. "Wait.  You're telling me he was awake during surgery?!" Stan barked.  As Ford's eye dimmed and closed, his head tipping to the side in slumber, Stan hushed himself to an angry hiss, "And you didn't know it?!" "We could tell when that demon showed up for a split second every so often and accommodated it the best we could but otherwise, it's nearly impossible to tell in any patient.  The paralytic in the anesthesia immobilizes the body and maintains a lower heart rate and blood pressure." "That's what your assistant meant when she said he didn't make it easy, then?"  Stan asked, pinching his nose. "Yes.  We didn't want to mention it to you over the phone since we weren't actually sure.  It made no sense to worry you since we thought you were pretty much on your way."  She paused, finally taking in the sorry sight of the man standing before her.  "What happened to you, anyway.  You look like you need a few stiff drinks and about a week's worth of sleep." "A cuppa coffee would be a life saver right n-" "No..." Ford croaked.  "No.  Please!  Stanley, I'm sorry!"  He thrashed under his blanket, bucking against his bonds.  His eye peeled open, his breath coming in short bursts. "Ford, it's alright.  I'm alright," Stan assured him, "I'm safe."  He looked up to Dr. Braum and requested, "Can you give us a minute?" "Of course," she said, her steps nearly silent as she approached the door.  "I'll be in my office finishing up some dictation if you need me." The door clicked against it's frame, its motorized lock latching behind her. "I can't do this anymore," Ford croaked,  looking up to him with dampness welling in the corner of his eye, "I'm tired.  I'm so tired." "Yeah.  You've been through Hell," Stan empathized. "More than that," he said, turning his head away, "I'm tired of all of this.  It's gone, Stanley.  My eye is gone.  It's GONE!  I'm tied to a bed because a demon might make me hurt myself or someone else.  I've destroyed thirty years of both of our lives!  Probably forty of yours-" "Ford, you can't blame yourself for that," Stan's words went unheard as Ford continued. "And now, I finally get to be someplace other than the house for the first time in twenty of those years and all I want to do is go back to the basement.  And to top it all off, I don't want to do this because I can't even wipe my own damn nose!"  His breath hitched, coming in ragged gasps.  He sniffled, his face burning as he fought the impending flood.  "I just want to sleep." "I wish I knew what would help you get some rest," Stan mumbled, uncertain of what else to say. Ford turned his head to face his twin, his cheeks flushed and eye bloodshot.  His voice trembled as he asked, "Stanley, do...  Do we look anything like each other anymore?" Stan thought for a moment.  Their ears were the same size and shape, but Ford's left ear now had two notches cut into its helix thanks to an unexpected nap more than twenty-five years ago.  At one time, their noses were identical, now they'd both been misshapen by breaks, scars, and old age.  As for everything else, well...  There were few similarities anymore.  Ford's hair had turned a darker shade of gray, streaked with the near-white of Stan's.  Stan's arms grew muscular and his tummy, round, but Ford's legs retained muscle while the rest of him thinned. After considering it all, he answered, "We're still the same height, I guess.  But, no amount of differences is gonna change that we're still family.  If it bugs you, though, do you want to try the shave and hair cut idea?" "Maybe..." Ford debated aloud, sniffling and stifling his outburst.  "Yes.  Probably." "Ford," Stan said, resting his hands over his brother's, "I'm sorry I wasn't here for you today." "I'm sorry you had such a terrible day." "Says the man still going through Hell." "It's not like it's a shitty day contest," Ford said, forcing a crocked smile. "I guess," Stan said with a shrug. "Well, you know about my day," Ford said, leaning his head back in the search for comfort and prying for the distractions he'd sorely missed all day, "Tell me about yours?" "Sure," Stan said, his aching back forcing him down into the chair with a grunt.  He animated the story of his day through exaggerated hand motions and expressions in true showmanship style.  Ford sneered at the mention of Gideon, mentioning that the kid still creeped him out.  He gasped over the first tomato pelting and almost laughed when Stan revealed he kept a bobby pin under his fez for emergencies. His eyes widened as Stan spun the tale of nearly picking the lock and losing the pin, and he gasped audibly, "Oh no!" "Yup.  Tumbled right to the ground.  And of all people, Preston's kid, Pacifica, happened to be standing right there to see the whole thing.  She offered me a deal to get the pin back; said I had to say her family is the best." "Stanley, you didn't.  Not after how she treated Mabel at the party." "Hell no!" He bellowed, his hands slapping his knees, "I asked if she wanted it in writing and wrote 'You stink' with a pen stuck in my mouth!" Ford managed a laugh, "Excellent.  I'm proud of you, holding your ground like that.  But, I'm not surprised.  You've always been-" "A stubborn old fool?" "Stubborn.  Yes.  But that's not a bad thing.  I have your stubbornness to thank for you sticking around, after all." "Heh.  Yeah.  I guess.  Anyway, I'd say it was worth the extra tomato pelting." "Oh, Stanley..." he said with a sympathetic lilt. "Eh, it's alright.  Soos came by and kept me company for a bit then the kids showed up later and broke me out with some magical key they found during the day.  Mabel, heh, her and her imagination, I tell ya.  She had on this top hat and said it was 'cause she's a senator now.  But, hey, she 'pardoned' me and the town didn't object so, whatever, I guess." "She sounds like quite a pistol, alright." "Sure is.  I think you two will get along well," Stan added, his tone showing nothing but absolute certainty that they'd meet someday. Ford's answer, however, was not so certain.  "I hope so." "Well, enough about me, how about you?  With all this time stuck alone like this, you got any new ideas for that novel of yours for me to write down?" he asked, digging in his coat pocket for a battered notepad with a dripping, black question mark on the cover and a What is the Mystery Shack? pen. "... Yes.  Actually." "Alright," Stan said, clicking the pen and holding it above an empty page, "ready whenever you are." Ford cleared his throat, thankful that the smolder of his cheeks had dulled to an awkward stiffness but annoyed at the headache setting in.  Even so, he breathed deeply and began, picking up at a seemingly random point in a story inspired by nearly being dragged into the portal all those years ago, by his own fears, and by imagination; the story of a man traveling between dimensions. "In his journey, he stumbled upon a world of two dimensional beings.  He found himself stuck in an uncomfortable position, his eyes above their dimensional plane but his mouth below, rendering him unable to explain his circumstances and barely able to perceive the edges of the startled shapes surrounding him.  Fearing his presence, the residents attacked.   Their razor sharp edges sliced into his flesh repeatedly, but he was trapped, utterly helpless, his pleas for mercy bellowing outside of their frame of existence until his vision darkened and he lost consciousness. He awoke seemingly moments later laying among plush pillows and soft blankets, his wounds cleaned and bandaged.  An unearthly woman towered above him, her seven stunning eyes filled with concern as they gazed down to him.  Though his experiences had left him on edge, something about her set his mind at ease.  Perhaps it was her posture, proper but not too stiff, the way her hands folded gently over her lap as she sat beside him, or the kindness in her voice as she welcomed him to her mountaintop shrine.  She introduced herself as an oracle and claimed he would be safe by her side.  His instincts screamed for him to get up and run, that no one could be trusted, yet, he remained a resident in the shrine as he recovered."  Ford yawned, his eyelid drooping as his words trailed off, "Eventually, he realized, the oracle had earned his trust... Stan looked up from his scrawled writing, leaning forward to the edge of his seat as he awaited the rapid beeps and panicked pleas of the next nightmare. Several minutes passed and nothing happened.   He stood, his own heart picking up tempo in place of Ford's as he leaned over the bed.  "Gah!"  He jumped back as Ford's eye flew open, yellow glare piercing through.  His head and limbs thrashed against the restraints, blanket flapping over his body. Bill growled and huffed, "Guess I tired him out too much.  Human bodies have so little endurance.  Yeesh.  A bit of trauma and a night or two without sleep and they're useless." Stan gave a deep sigh, falling back into his chair.  His hands draped over his knees, barely keeping hold of the notepad and pen.  Embittered, he asked, "Don't you have anything better to do, Bill?" "Thanks you you two, no.  Not at the moment.  You really have no idea how boring it can get being immortal and stuck in only one dimension, do you?  But, I've got my eye on some new prospects.  Aw, don't think that means I'll neglect you two.  But for now, Sweet dreams!  Hope those restraints hold up.  Wouldn't want anything bad happening, now would you?" With that, Ford's eye dimmed, the lid slipping closed as he slept.  Stan breathed deeply, leaning back in his chair.  "Hope you get some rest, Ford," he whispered. In his own exhaustion, Stan fell asleep before his head hit the chair's padded back, the notebook resting on his chest and pen clattering to the floor.

Notes:

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Don't worry, Ford isn't holding anything against Dr. Braum. If anything, she was a kind and comforting presence to him during the whole ordeal.

Personal note: Apparently I'm such an insomniac that I woke up under general anesthesia once. The incredibly vivid memories I have of it are partly what inspired this. Thing is, I didn't realize it was something that can profoundly affect your life until reading up more on it for research for this. I never even told anyone about it because I didn't realize it was something I should tell. So yeah, my doctors didn't even know about it. Reading up on it is already explaining a lot but I probably haven't even scratched the surface yet. I just never related anything to it before, possibly because the one effect I don't have is nightmares (about that in particular). (Also, sorry, but I don't want to go into detail at the moment because even that is an issue wrapped up in it that I haven't solved yet. It wasn't a serious procedure or surgery, though, so no worries. Anyway, I just wanted to mention where the inspiration came from and show that writing like this actually *is* therapeutic and can uncover real life issues.)

#gravity falls #gravity falls fanfiction #stanford pines #stanley pines #bill cipher #ford pines #stan pines #the man downstairs au #the man downstairs fic #mo's writing and such