Nothing To Prove || Gravity Falls Tickle Fic ||
A/N: there's a lot of buildup at the start but THIS IS A TICKLE FIC I SWEAR! more than anything though, I'm writing this for the sake of developing characters. This is familial love so if I see any i*cest, I am blocking you on sight
Summary: When Ford comes to realize how much Dipper looks up to him, he seeks out a way to show his young nephew that there's no need to be intimidated by him.
Word count: 2,454
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Dipper
Life just got a whole galaxy bigger.
Dipper thought he knew what his life would become when he found that old dusty book in the forest; he'd pursue adventure, get into danger, fight monsters.
But meeting his number one hero? And then finding out that he's related?
Not a chance.
It'd been a year since Dipper and his sister left Gravity Falls. They had lots of time that school year to ruminate on everything they had been through together. In the span of three months, their whole universe had turned inside out.
They had another uncle. Someone else to look out for and protect them. Mabel, as she is with all news of this sort, was over the moon. Dipper, however, wasn't as content. It wasn't that he didn't like Great Uncle Ford. Far from it. He loved him unconditionally. He worshipped the ground he walked on. He would fight a thousand beasts to earn his mentor's pride. And that was the problem.
Dipper had spent so long dreaming of the author as this distant hero; an intellectual mastermind that surpassed all around him. He dreamt of meeting him, yes. Bombarding him with questions, absolutely. But now the man was part of his family. The same family that he cracked stupid fart jokes and goofed around with.
Dipper wasn't prepared to have someone so important to him in his life on a permanent basis. He couldn't help but feel a little small around Ford, like every move he made was a chance to embarrass himself in front of his idol.
After his first summer in Gravity Falls ended, Dipper hoped that his overwhelming sense of awe would pass with the time, and he would grow more comfortable around this new addition to the family. But the moment he stepped off of that bus and saw his great-uncle there to greet him, he knew it wouldn't be quite that easy.
He volunteered for as many of Ford's experiments as he could. He offered as much help as he could provide. When faced with an obstacle, Dipper made sure to prove to his uncle that he was smart and tough beyond his years. This, as one might expect, is a difficult and exhausting image to maintain. Being "the perfect, mature man of science" was hard when you were a young, hormonal teenage boy. But that wasn't going to stop Dipper.
When Ford had asked if him if he wanted to help engineer a stronger form of glass that could withstand abnormally high temperatures, he nearly fell over with excitement. He was going to be the best lab assistant Ford could ask for.
It seemed, however, that he couldn't get that right after all, because when bringing over the regular glass jar for experimentation, it slipped through his fingers and shattered.
Dipper was mortified. Not only had he broken the constant variable in their experiment, but possibly also the trust Ford placed in him to be a responsible assistant. How could he have been so careless? Was their experiment ruined now? Did Ford think he wasn't taking this seriously?
"Oh my gosh! Oh my- I- I'm so sorry, Great Uncle Ford! I don't know what happened. I thought I had it" Dipper rambled, throat tightening.
"Aw shoot," Ford cursed under his breath, "It's okay, Dipper, it happens. Here, why don't you go fetch me a new jar from the back shelves while I sweep up this mess?"
"Act- Actually you know what, I think you might actually have an easier time doing this if I wasn't here. I- I don't want to get in your way. " Dipper shuffled back towards the door.
"But I thought you wanted to-" Ford turned to his nephew only to find that he was already gone.
---
Ford
It was unusual, and not the kind that Ford enjoyed. The puzzling kind of unusual.
The conclusion did not follow the variables. Variable one: Ford was conducting an experiment. Variable two: Ford asked Dipper for assistance. Variable three: Dipper was eager to help. Conclusion: Dipper had panicked and ran off. It just wasn't right. Something was off balance.
Now, in a technical situation, Ford could figure out the root cause himself. He had well over thirty years of practice doing so. But this was a human being. Moreso, this was his great nephew, and he wasn't so skilled in the people area. He needed to outsource this predicament with someone who knew Dipper longer than he had. Someone he could trust to tell him what he was doing wrong.
That someone in particular was tucking away a large medieval flail in the cupboards of the sitting room when Ford found him. What it was for, Ford thought it better not to ask.
"Stanley, can I talk to you about something?" He said.
"I didn't know it was a bear, honest!" Stan yelled.
"What?"
"Uhh, nothing. What's on your mind?"
"I have the strangest feeling that Dipper is more anxious than normal. He ran out of my lab this morning looking like he'd seen a ghost, which I have ruled out as a possibility because the air did not smell at all of sulfur. Anyway, the point is, I think something's wrong with him. You've known him far longer than I have. I thought maybe you would have better insight into these things" Ford explained.
Stan stood silently for a moment.
"Stan?"
"Oh sorry I was just enjoying the moment you finally came to me for advice"
"Stanley."
His brother quirked an eyebrow at him. "You don't gotta be a genius to figure this one out, Poindexter. The kid's afraid of looking bad in front of ya."
Ford was stunned into silence. This was a new feeling. An new, terribly odd feeling.
"What?"
"Come on, you've got to have noticed by now. He looks to you like you're a god. He practically worships the ground you walk on. You were like his hero before you'd even met him. You think he's not gonna feel some pressure to live up to your standard? He just wants you to be proud of him."
"I love him! He's my brother's grandson! And of course I'm proud of him. He's very remarkable for his age" Ford said.
"Then why don't you tell him that once in a while."
Ford lost himself in thought.
"Well, time to get back to restocking my weapons. Good luck with your family tension. I'll call you for dinner," Stan sauntered away, seemingly unbothered by the problem, "Prepping for battle, do do do..."
Once again, Ford was left alone to think.
---
This wasn't the first time that Ford had heard someone tell him that he had a standoff-ish impression on people, but he never thought it would impact his kin. Someone he treasured so greatly. Now that he knew how Dipper was feeling, he couldn't waltz around and act like he didn't know. Something had to be done. The only issue was, he didn't know what.
Ford waited a couple days before asking Dipper to rejoin his experiments, knowing that the boy probably wouldn't be willing to assist him just yet after what happened. To his relief, Dipper agreed.
It was still painful to know that his nephew was intimidated by him, but it felt nice just to have him by his side again being his seemingly normal self.
The day went without a hitch this time. In fact, things went quicker than expected and they finished early. It was as they were readying themselves to leave when Ford spoke.
"Thank you for your help today, Dipper. I've been having trouble operating all of this machinery by myself lately. Must have thrown out my back or something."
"I wouldn't worry about it," Dipper replied, "Muscles get tighter with age, so I'm sure it's normal."
Ford turned to look down at his nephew. "Are you calling me old?"
The boy paled. "Wh- I- Uh- I- I wasn't-"
"I'm afraid I have no choice but to punish you for your disrespect" the scientist said darkly.
Before Dipper could have time to overthink that threat, Ford pulled the boy into his arms, sat himself on the ground and started tickling his belly.
The first few seconds were filled with frantic babbling; jumbled syllables trying to make themselves into a coherent sentence. Ford wasn't hearing a "stop", so he didn't.
Dipper giggled hysterically. His face had instantly screwed itself up tight and was looking for a way to bury itself into some hiding place. "GREATUNCLEFORHOHORD! WHAT ARE YOU DOHOHOHOING?!"
"Tickling you, of course! I thought that was obvious," Ford answered with cheer, all pretend-seriousness gone. He chuckled. "I guess you inherited more from me than I thought."
Dipper couldn't seem to figure out what to do with his hands, until he settled on hiding his face with them.
"Aw, don't be shy, son. I'm not the author today. Today, I'm just your uncle," Ford then added with a growl, "Your uncle: the tickle monster!"
The boy's arms fell from his face, settling down on his lap like little t-rex arms. He seemed to have surrendered to the silliness of it and didn't bother to fight.
Wonderful, Ford thought, that means he trusts me!
As Ford moved from belly to sides to ribs, Dipper's laughter went up and down like a rollercoaster, his child-like smile never leaving his face. "IHIHIHI'M SORRYHIHIHI!"
"Nuh uh, kid. "Sorry"'s not gonna cut it," Ford said playfully. He was surprised how good he was at this. He didn't have much experience with playing with children, and he had thought his decades of interdimensional travel would've hardened him to such silliness. Thank the gods that it hadn't.
As Ford's hand started to travel up to the boy's underarm, the boy shrieked and suddenly found the will to fight.
"EHEHEHEK! NONONONONO!"
Ford couldn't help himself laughing at his adorable little ward. "Ticklish there, huh?"
"YEHEHES" Dipper cried.
"Okay, okay, I'll make you a deal. You take back what you said about me being old, and I'll stop tickling you."
Ford had expected the kid to be worn out by now. He thought it was only fair to offer him an out. To his surprise, he didn't take it.
Dipper seemed to think it over for a second, then shook his head with an extra giggle, one that was not from the tickling.
This kid is going to be the death of me, Ford thought, not a hint of regret in his mind.
"Okay, if you say so," the man said playfully, and dug all six fingers into the boy's hollows.
A shriek, and then more rambling, and then loud laughter.
Dipper, despite being tickled within an inch of his life, looked happier than Ford had ever seen him. If this was a dream, Ford did not want to wake up.
"I've got some questions for you, Dipper. Smile for yes and laugh for no, ya got it?"
All he could do was laugh.
"Okay, are you smart?"
Dipper sunk his chin in to his chest.
"Dipper, this won't work if you say yes and no" Ford remarked with fake incredulousness, "Okay, hmmmm... are you brave?"
The teen began to snicker.
"I don't think you understand the rules of this game," Ford said, which only made Dipper laugh harder.
"Alright, alright, last one. Are you ticklish?"
Dipper let out a snort at that infernal question.
"I'll take that as a yes," Ford smiled smugly.
After several more minutes of goofing around, Dipper finally had enough.
"OKAYHYHYHY OKAYHYHY! I TAKE IT BAHAHACK!"
"Good lad." And with that, Ford released his victim.
Dipper wrapped his arms around himself and giggled till there were no more laughs left in him.
"You okay, son? I didn't go too crazy, did I?"
"No no, I'm fihihine. Mabel's put me through much worhorse."
"I can believe that. She got that from your uncle Stanley, you know."
After having regained his breath, Dipper got up from his uncle's lap. "So... are you really not mad about the jar I broke the other day?"
"Oh, Dipper, of course I'm not. You should see the things I've broken down here. You'd be shocked."
"But when you make a mistake, it's different." Dipper recoiled. Apparently, he didn't mean to let that slip.
"What do you mean?"
Dipper's timidness was returning, and Ford almost regretted even asking.
"It's just... you've done so many great things and are so perfect the rest of the time that the mistakes you make don't count as much."
That was some seriously flawed logic, but Ford chose not to point it out.
Dipper continued. "I make too many mistakes."
"Dipper, you're supposed to make mistakes. You're twelve. Do you think I was able to do all the things I do now at your age? Not even remotely.
"And more to the point, you don't have to embarrassed about those mistakes. Especially not with me."
"But you're different! You're the author! The author I'd been searching for all summer. You're a dimension-hopping scientist! And surprise, surprise, you're even cooler in person! And I'm just... so... small.
"I keep trying to make myself useful, to be someone you can be proud of, but-"
Ford kneeled down and placed both hands on the kid's shoulders. "Dipper, listen very close to me. I'm going to tell you something, and I need you to really hear me, understand?"
Dipper hesitantly nodded.
"I am so proud of you. You're my great nephew. I'm proud of you every minute of every day. That's not something that can change. You've got nothing to prove to me. You make me proud simply by being who you are. Never question that. Can you do that for me, son?"
The boy looked near to tears.
Oh gods, Ford thought, did he say something wrong? He thought this would make him feel better, not worse! Should he-
Little arms suddenly hugged his neck tight. "Yeah... yeah I can."
Ford could not get his arms around him fast enough.
"Now, don't you ever go comparing yourself to me. What a disservice to your incredible self."
Dipper hugged tighter.
Ford himself could feel little pin pricks in his own eyes. He released his hug and cleared his throat.
"Well, I think we've had enough excitement down here for one day. What do you say we head back upstairs for dinner."
Dipper wiped his eyes with a happy smile. "Sounds good to me."
The two walked back towards the door, a new kind of bond formed between them. It felt like something had been accomplished today, and that was all either of them could ask for.
"You are old, though."
"Oh, I'll show you old. Get back here!"
----
This has been an idea of mine for quite some time. Rewatching the show was just the straw that broke this writer's back apparently. So happy to have finally written this ❤️
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So, here's another Dean. This one's in neocolor crayon, which are very soft crayons - you can use water with them, but I haven't here, because the paper's newsprint and it would fall to pieces very quickly if I used water.
While I was drawing, I was pondering various arty matters. Mainly, how some art/craft posts - mostly on Facebook rather than here - irritate the hell out of me. You know the ones. Where there's some amazing piece of art/craft, but the caption is something like, 'please be kind - it's my first time!' When it's blatantly not their first time, unless art and craft is just plain easy, which it isn't. Anyway, I'm not sure why people make those posts - for others to comment how amazing they are? I suppose. But it must be pretty hollow to receive such compliments. Unless it really is their first time. And even then...
So, anyway, it made me think, why do I post my art? What exactly do I get out of it? Do I do it to receive validation in the form of compliments? I'm not saying there's anything wrong with that, but I just wanted to be really honest with myself. And also, why do I make art in the first place and why this particular type of art, drawing the same characters over and over?
Well, I think I draw for the same, or similar reasons that I write - because it's my own world, that I can control. There's comfort there, isn't there? And comfort in the characters I draw and write about - they're not called comfort characters for nothing, after all. And they're beautiful, aren't they? They're just damn beautiful. Why wouldn't I want to draw them?
So, I guess I want to pour my love into creating something beautiful, or as near beauty as I can get. And I choose to do that with my crayons or my charcoal or my pastels because I love those things too - their colours, the way they spread, the way you can make big, soft marks or sharp, dark marks, the way you can smush them around with your fingers, the way you can just mess about and sometimes it doesn't work and sometimes you get an amazing effect that you didn't know was possible. I love drawing randomly, roughly, searching and searching until I find what I want.
But why post online? Hmm... Well, yes, it is nice when people think what I've created is technically skilful. I have an ego that likes to be stroked, same as anyone else. But if that was the only reason, I'd probably cheat. Some people do. And if that makes them happy, who am I to criticize?
Anyway, I think what I'm after is connection, which is in no way an original thought. That's what makes fandom so wonderful, isn't it? The way you can find connections with other people all over the world. I think when I post, I'm looking for people who love the same kinds of things that I do - the same characters, obviously, but also the same kind of approach to art. The colours and the roughness, the playfulness and the 'continuing mission' to find beauty. I think I post in the hopes that someone will see my art and think, 'hey, I like that.' And that they'll feel a little spark of joy.
I think that's what all our fan creations are about. You get the firework of joy and excitement that goes off when you create your story or your picture and then, around the fandom world, other people get a spark struck from your joy. Which is pretty flowery stuff, but, hey - I'm a writer, aren't I?
That's enough rambling. Nearly. Because I also want to do the thing I often do, which is totally anti the 'it's my first time!' kind of posts. This is very far from my first time and I want you to see the crappiness of my progress shots, because it's important to know that there's almost always a lot of crappy stages before you reach something you consider beautiful. Not perfect. I'm not after perfection, which is impossible anyway, and I would never say any of my stuff is perfect because it's far from perfect and I don't want that - I want life and humanity and striving toward something.
I'm gonna shut up now, because there are burgers to be cooked and chocolate cake to be eaten, and hey! Doctor Who's on soon! Bye!
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