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livewhileyourbloodisboiling · 2 years

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A current BillDip Fic I'm working on! It’s lengthy so it’ll be under keep reading, enjoy!

The loud rush of bypassing cars and people walking past slowly flooded his ears again accompanied by a loud ringing. A hand stretched out and roughly pulled him back from walking into the bright lights of oncoming traffic.

“Earth to DipDop!!” Mabel’s voice rang out, managing to drown out all the noise for a brief second.

Dipper looked around bewildered, coming back to his senses. Seeing his breath puff out into the chilly summer of Portland, Oregon. Bright lights leaked out from store fronts, restaurants, and bars adding a hue to the lively night.

“Jeez, brobro! What’s got you so lost in your mind enough to walk into oncoming traffic?” Mabel slightly chuckled, but concern was obvious in her brown eyes. “Look if you’re still worried about this we can just stay for a bit, then leave! No sweat!” Mabel playfully elbowed Dipper in the ribs.

He wasn’t reassured by her words though. Maybe if Candy and Grenda weren’t going to be there. Maybe if it wasn’t Pacifica throwing a party and it was Gideon instead. Maybe if he didn’t keep to himself often Mabel wouldn’t always put him in this monthly predicament. He remembered the sibling vow they made was to be more social and go to parties. They both knew Mabel had no issue with that, the promise was more so for Dipper’s sake in disguise. Nonetheless, Dipper appreciated Mabel for not making that part obvious and stuck it out with him instead, like a true partner in crime.

Dipper let out a deep, weary sigh that was held in for too long. He scratched the back of his neck, even though he was not itchy, just a nervous unconscious habit that developed over time due to his awkward state and awful way of verbally expressing his emotions.

“Mabel, both you and I know once we get there you won’t want to leave so quickly.” Mabel opened her mouth to interject, but Dipper held up his hand, signaling he wasn’t finished. “There’s nothing wrong with that, either! It’s just...you know how I am. The nerd who’d rather have his nose stuffed in a book than in someone's face.”

Mabel's laugh bubbled out from her stomach, causing her to double over. People gave a curious glance over at the twins but continued to walk around them.

“Is that what you think kissing is, Dipper? Smashing noses together?” She was still laughing.

Dipper clenched his fists from embarrassment and could feel his cheeks heating up.

“I do not!” Dipper huffed, causing Mabel to laugh harder.

Wiping away some tears, she stood back up and put a hand on Dipper’s shoulder. “This is what I mean when I say you need to go outside and touch some grass. Otherwise you’ll die thinking smashing noses is very lewd.”

Dipper shrugged off her hand and rolled his eyes as they continued walking.

“Jokes aside, I really do mean it, DipDop, if you start feeling really uncomfortable or think a panic attack is rising just let me know and we will go. We’ve got all summer after all! This is just one of many parties we will be going to! Plenty of time to adjust to them!” Mabel grinned, a gleeful excitement dancing in her eyes, as Dipper groaned.

Despite that, her excitement was contagious and soon enough had him cracking a giddy smile.

“Mabel, you're definitely onto something for sure. Maybe tonight will go well and my never ending anxieties will lessen over time. Or maybe it'll all go horribly catastrophic. Who knows?”

Mabel gave a firm pat on the back, making him stumble a bit. “That’s the spirit! Anyways, we’re here! Time to face your fears brobro!”

Dipper stared at an average looking door you’d see on any normal day. The black matte door looked like it belonged to the main lobby of a luxurious apartment suite complex. Mabel rapidly tapped on the door in an unceremonious way. After a second pause the door cracked open ajar. A face peered between the crack, looking both of them up and down.

Mabel cleared her throat. “Greetings! I am Mabel Pines, this is Dipper Pines! We are here because we are the royal VIPs! Now grant us entrance!”

The person behind the door looked over from his twin to Dipper who was nervously tapping his foot and gave a small wave of his hand. “Um, hi?”

The person nodded their head, as if some invisible person had said something to them, then closed the door on their faces.

They stood there for a second before Dipper whirled on Mabel. “Mabel, what the hell was that?! Did we get the wrong address? And why were you talking like that?”

Mabel held up her hand. "Just wait.”

As soon as she said that the door opened, allowing enough space to pass through. Mabel put her hand on his back, and pushed Dipper through into a small hallway with a deep red lighting. They were alone, the person guarding the door was no longer there. From a distance, they could hear the muffled sounds of music.

“What kind of weird, unnecessarily extra security does Pacifica have nowadays?” Dipper asked, bewildered.

“Oh, c’mon. Don’t act like that’s the weirdest thing you’ve ever seen in your life.” Mabel said, rolling her eyes.

“You’re right, it’s definitely the person standing next to me.” Dipper retorted, grinning.

Mabel scoffed and shoved him into the direction of the music. “Rude! Now let’s go! They’ve been waiting long enough for us.”

The music became clearer the deeper they walked into the building. The two very strong components of this place seemed to theme drastic lightning and loud, bone vibrating music. Dipper was dreading losing his voice and hearing at some point through the night. The red light slowly dimmed into a deep blue hue. Other lights bounced around the end of the hallway. Dipper belatedly realized how bare the walls were. As they came to the end of it, a staircase met their feet. A huge bar was sprawled out in a big, almost warehouse type of room. Yet, there were so many intricate details everywhere. The walls were far from bare compared to the hallway they had just been in. There were several carvings that looked made from wood. It looked like they belonged in a renaissance gothic church. So many people were there either in clumps dancing or conversing near the bar or tables.

There was a big arrangement of several types of liquor that seemed to stretch on forever, as they walked down the stairs they could see more clearly what there was. Basically whatever drink you could think of, they'd make it.

Mabel squealed next to him, spotting her friends she hadn’t seen in a year. She ran over to them, shoving people aside and all three of them collapsed into a death squeezing hug, giggling all the while. Dipper felt a small smile form, still standing apart from the group, looking in as an outsider. He could see Mabel talking animatedly as Candy and Grenda soaked in every word. Dipper was slightly impressed that he couldn't hear them knowing how loud they usually are.

Mabel turned until she spotted him, waving him to come over. Candy and Grenda also waved at him, in return giving a small half wave back. He didn’t really have a problem with her friends, they just didn’t have a lot in common.

An arm slung around his shoulders. “Well don’t be rude, Dipper. Let’s go greet our friends.”

Dipper turned to see long loose blonde curls fill his vision, until she also turned her head to give a glamorous smile. “Hey, Pacifica.”

“Hey, nerd. Stop being awkward, you both just got here for the summer finally, don’t turn the mood sour already.” Pacifica teased.

She stepped away to walk towards Mabel, who reached out and gave her a big hug. Dipper followed behind.

Everyone else gave polite greetings to Dipper and asked both twins how their school year was.

Dipper gave a nonchalant answer while Mabel bragged for the both of them on how many colleges wanted both of them. Mabel was planning on going into fashion while Dipper was considering paid internships on anomalies.

“Are you sure you don’t want to go through a college first, Dipper?” Candy asked.

Dipper shrugged. “It's nothing concrete yet, but I can get a degree just the same and it won’t take as long. The only difference is I would be traveling continuously instead of staying at a university.”

“Aw, man. Don’t think you can just leave us so easily already!” Came a familiar voice that Dipper couldn’t help but grin at.

“Wendy!” Dipper exclaimed. A tall familiar redhead walked up to their group, her friends trailing behind. “It's so good to see you!” They hugged each other and Wendy took off his hat to ruffle his hair.

They laughed. “It’s good to see ya too, Dipper! Oh, man it’s been so long that you’re almost as tall as me!” Wendy put his hat back on and stepped back. Dipper briefly caught the pointed stare Mabel was giving him but he chose to ignore it. He already knew the tireless speech his twin would be ranting about later tonight.

A person, a waiter he assumed, in a plain tuxedo came around with a tray of various drinks. Dipper was going to decline a drink until Pacifica forcefully put a questionably cold filled glass into his hands and everyone else's. The low five Mabel gave Pacifica didn't go unnoticed either. Dipper raised an eyebrow.

“Cheers to our first drink of summer!” Pacifica shouted. Everyone whooped and howled at that then took a big gulp. Dipper hesitantly took a small simp and grimaced. Whoever made this drink had a heavy hand. Dipper was pretty sure it was all tequila with a splash of orange juice.

The night went on with everyone catching up, dancing, drinking more and more while Dipper sat back in the sidelines babysitting his now watered down drink. Mabel and Pacifica occasionally danced very close to each other, then twirled away to dance with the others. Another conversation that this time Dipper would later bring up.

Another round of drinks were brought to everyone. Dipper eyed his watered down drink slowly drowning in itself, he couldn’t help but to momentarily relate to the drink that was about to be cast aside for a new one. He shrugged and grabbed a random drink from the tray. He wearily took a sip and was pleasantly surprised by the sweet taste, taking a bigger sip this time.

He noticed that the waiter was still there. Dipper raised an eyebrow questioningly at him.

“Apologies, sir. A young gentleman from over there asked me to announce that they ordered this drink for you.”

Dipper swiveled his head in the direction the waiter pointed at. He instantly froze as his eyes locked with opaque blue eyes. Everything seemed to slow down around him, the roaring of crowds and the music slowing down to a hypnotic beat. Dipper’s heart and breathing quickened as he realized it was going to be a lot harder to avoid this person than he had hoped for.

Dipper was the first to break their silent gaze. He was always careful with every step he took, every decision made, every word overthought, but in this instant knocking his head back and chugging the whole drink was most certainly not something well thought out. It was only going to be a decision regretted later on.

Dipper could hear Mabel whooping out his name. She definitely saw him being reckless and approving of it. He stood up and felt things turn sideways for a second. He already knew he was a lightweight but he didn’t think it was this bad. What the hell was in that drink that went unnoticed? He remembered Wendy warning the twins at their first party to watch out for drinks that didn’t taste like alcohol, those were always the most dangerous.

Shit! He thought to himself. Dipper looked back up to the general direction of the person he was trying to avoid. He was still there but now clinging onto a tall blonde male Dipper didn’t recognize. He was hugging him from behind, both of his arms were wrapped around his neck. His usual puffy white, over hair sprayed hair was flattened and slicked back in a flattering way. A stupid part of Dipper got aggravated. Another part wanted to dump a drink on his head. As if on cue, a different waiter came around, this time Dipper took the drink willingly and took a big gulp.

He could hear a tiny voice in the back of his head begging him to act more sensible instead of irrational, but a bigger thought was brewing in his head. Anger, jealousy, and some self-hatred.

“Hey, brobro!” Mabel shouted. “Those definitely aren't heart eyes! Who are you giving daggers at?” She giggled, clearly drunk at this point.

As she turned to see what Dipper was glaring at, her whole face dropped. “ Oh .”

Mabel looked over her shoulder at Pacifica who at some point came over. “Pacifica, did you invite him?”

“Of course I did! I thought you guys were cool. It's been a year anyways right?” She responded, unbothered.

Mabel pressed her lips into a firm line, while her eyebrows furrowed, unsure of what to say.

“Pacifica.” Dipper said through gritted teeth. “Do you know what happened?” He didn't look at her, his eyes were still trained on him.

Before she could answer, he continued. “Let’s not forget the fact that not only did he almost get us killed last summer, but also tried to get the title to the Mystery Shack if Mabel didn’t marry him. Which, you're welcome by the way, for stopping that otherwise you wouldn’t be able to grind on my sister right now.”

Pacifica glared at him, opened her mouth to most likely say something harsher back, but instead turned on her hell and angrily stomped away.

Mabel sighed. “That was unnecessary, Dipper. You know she’s trying to be a better person but-”

“I cannot believe you're defending her, Mabel!”

“Well, well, well, if it isn’t my favorite pair of twins in a classic bickering match.” A familiar southern voice drew out.

Dipper cringed inwardly but couldn't hide his face from scrunching up in disgust.

“Get fucked, Gideon .” Dipper spit out.

Mabel gave Dipper a wide-eyed look, shocked by his sudden out of character behavior.

He was feeling light headed from the combination of alcohol and anger running through his veins. He wanted to stay and punch Gideon. He also wanted to run and hide. He stayed glued to his seat.

Gideon chuckled. “Believe it or not, Dipper, but it really was no hard feelings. Things may have gotten a little out of hand last summer-” Dipper scoffed at that. “-but I do hope we can mature and grow from this. Maybe one day you’ll understand how we men feel when we want something so badly that we’d do anything to get it.” Gideon gave a lustful grin towards Mabel.

Yup, it was decided. Before Gideon could react to Dipper abruptly standing up, he was punched hard in the face. If the only good thing Stan had taught him to get out of a bad situation was violence, Dipper greatly appreciated it.

Gideon was clutching his face, his one good eye giving a murderous glare.

“ God , that felt good ! You’re right about one thing, Gideon, I finally was able to feel something I've been really wanting.” Dipper felt electrified. He stepped closer to Gideon ready for another swing, until long gloved fingers wrapped firmly around his arm and pulled him back.

Dipper looked over to see the hand that had stopped him belonged to the tall blonde male that Gideon was with earlier. Close up he was even taller than he seemed. His face was tanned and had a muscular outline. What he could make out with the mix of the flashing lights were golden eyes like honey staring at him with a big flash of white teeth. His hair was blonde with sharp streaks of black.

“If you could kindly refrain from punching my friend again, I'd greatly appreciate it.” Another blinding flash of white teeth shone on him.

His voice was velvety and coarse all at once. It had Dipper reeling over a response. A few more seconds passed on and this man decided to deem it safe enough to let Dipper go. He stepped over to Gideon and pulled out a cloth for Gideon to wipe off any blood. Anger was still clear in his good eye, yet he found a way to chuckle despite it all.

Dipper couldn't explain the sudden violent urge invoked once more, but instead of pondering on it as a usual resort, he acted on his emotions. Going for Gideon's other eye. Dipper mostly succeeded, breaking some skin when coming into contact with his knuckles but was stopped before it could be fully executed. The golden-haired man standing next to him looked a mix of amused and surprised for a brief second before going back to his flippant bright smile.

This time Wendy had stopped him. Mabel was by her side, clearly worried. “Dude! You totally won the match and all, but I think now is a good time to go.”

Dipper willingly obligated, walking backwards so he wouldn't break eye contact until they took the stairs back up.

Once back in the red hallway, Mabel and Wendy tried to ask what happened but he merely shrugged off their questions by giving one word responses. They eyed each other, having a silent conversation, and shook their heads. They decided to help walk Dipper out of their meanwhile call an uber back to their hotel. Pacifica set them up in one of the fancier ones even though they tried to suggest getting a cheap motel for themselves. He could hear Mabel and Wendy exchanging a few words and then suddenly they were in the uber. It was getting hard for Dipper to focus. Red flags were signaling in his head. He felt weird and fuzzy. Any thought he had was stopped in its tracks and forgotten about. He only had two drinks, why did he feel this way?

“Dipper?” Mabel’s voice sounded far away. “Are you ok? You look super pale? What happened back there? You’ve never drank that much before.”

“That's...it…!” Dipper said weakly.

“What is?” Mabel asked, confused, trying to sober herself up too.

“The drinks...i only had two...and one was from Gideon…”

Mabel's eyes widened in understanding. “Shit.”

Once they arrived at their hotel, Mabel hurriedly rushed them all the way to their room. Once they finally got in, Mabel walked Dipper to the bathroom. She had him crouch down over the toilet.

She sighed. “I’m sorry brobro, but we are going to have to do this the hard way. I’m so sorry I should've been a better sister and stayed with you.”

Dipper lightly patted her leg. Then grimaced as he put a finger down his throat until it triggered his gag reflex enough to spill out all the contents of his stomach.

#im thinking of editing this chapter the part where #Dipper takes the drink wasnt 100% clear i unintentionally rushed it #my brain was faster than my hands #i was also tired #billdip #fic #gravity falls #on ao3 #fic name is moments by t3a

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anistarrose · 4 years

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Where There’s Smoke, There’s a Scampfire (Stanuary Week 1 - Burn)

Summary: The closest Stan ever came to revealing he knew about the supernatural prior to the zombie incident.

Word Count: 1200

Warnings: none

AO3: archiveofourown.org/works/22077019

For @stanuary Week 1: Burn!

When I first saw this prompt, I was so ready to write angst. This fic is… quite the opposite of that. (You can probably still read into it in an angsty way if you really try, though — it is a Stan-centric fic, after all.)

Set in early Season 1, specifically the day after Double Dipper.

***

“Kids, how do you want your eggs? Fried or scrambled?” Stan called from the foot of the stairs.

“I wanna go back to sleep!” Mabel shouted back. Dipper’s only reply was a muffled groan.

“Well, I’m only making breakfast once, so you’re just gonna have to eat cold eggs then!” Stan warned them, but he heard no sign of the kids getting out of their beds. “Suit yourself!”

He headed for the kitchen and cracked two eggs into the frying pan, then reached for the knob of the stovetop burner. He probably should’ve suspected something when it was already warm to the touch — if not even before, when he’d smelled the scent of burning wood wafting through the room — but as he turned the knob, the burner erupted into a giant column of orange flames that sent the frying pan flying and splattered crispy-around-the-edges eggs all over the wall.

“Fuck!” Stan shouted, narrowly avoiding a faceful of flames — but before he could even make a mad dash for the attic and carry the kids out of what he was sure would soon become a burning and crumbling house, the fire spluttered out, leaving only a few char marks on the ceiling. One degree at a time, Stan turned the knob back into the off position, and though it still felt warmer than it should, there were no explosions this time.

“Okay, that’s fucking weird. How the hell —” Stan muttered to himself while slowly backing away, only to be interrupted by the stove making a sound that could almost be mistaken for a burp.

“And that’s even weirder!” Pulling an oven mitt onto one hand and wielding a bowl of water in the other, Stan approached the stove once again, this time resting a hand on the handle to the oven door. “Let’s see what’s going on in there…”

A ball of sizzling orange flame sprung out, nearly stomping on Stan’s toes with its limbs made of lumber. It shook its head back and forth like a wet dog, sending ash and kindling spraying across the kitchen floor, then bounded towards Stan, who’d backed up so quickly that he’d ran into the opposite wall of the room.

“Hey, watch it!” Without meaning to, Stan spilled some of the water from the bowl he’d filled at the sink, and the fire recoiled. With streams of ash falling from its flickering eyes, it looked genuinely betrayed, and Stan couldn’t help but feel guilty.

“Look, I don’t want to hurt you,” he explained, putting on his calmest ‘talking to animals’ voice. “I’m guessing the smell of those chocolate cupcakes I baked in there yesterday drew you in or something and you got trapped there all night, ‘cause I’ve ran into little guys like you out in the woods before and you’re usually not so high-strung. You just gave me a scare, that’s all.”

The fire made a noise somewhere in between a hiss and gurgle, and the ash stopped falling from its eyes.

Stan lowered his voice to a whisper. “But I can’t keep you here because you’ll either burn this place to the ground or smoke me out of house and home, and I also can’t let the kids see you with me ‘cause then I’ll have to admit to them that the supernatural is real —”

As if on cue, he heard Dipper yell from the attic: “What’s going on down there, Grunkle Stan?! That sounds like a lot of explosions for just making breakfast!”

Cupping his hands around his mouth, Stan yelled back: “I blew up your eggs in the microwave! Your fault for not telling me how you wanted them cooked!”

He turned back to his combusting companion. “See? Now that I’m making a racket, they’ll be out of bed and down here any minute, so if you’d just… lumber on out of here, pun totally intended, that would really be a big help to me.”

The fire showed no sign of understanding English, much less doing what Stan had asked of it, not even as a series of thuds from upstairs indicated that Dipper and Mabel were getting out of bed and soon to be on their way to the kitchen.

“You’re really not leaving me a lot of options here, punk,” Stan muttered, but he set the bowl of water down on the table. He’d always had a soft spot for the sentient campfires that roamed the woods of Gravity Falls, at least compared to the other local fauna — and most importantly, he was beginning to form a plan that didn’t involve extinguishing the little scamp.

“Even if little Brainiac Junior doesn’t try and use you as proof cryptids are real, then Mabel will probably adopt you as a pet and you’ll end up getting me framed for arson and insurance fraud,” he rambled on as he rummaged through the cabinets and fridge. “Not that I actually have insurance for the Shack. Or for anything else, really. You know, I don’t know why I’m telling you this.”

Going off the his earlier hunch that the fire had a chocolate addiction, he opened a bag of chocolate chips and began to pour them onto the floor, creating a path out of the kitchen and onto the porch. The fire immediately proved his guess right, absorbing the morsels with a series of satisfied crackles until reaching the lawn, where Stan ran out of chocolate. He switched to a half-empty bag of marshmallows left over from last night’s party, which the fire slurped up at a downright unfair speed as it scurried after him towards the woods.

“Okay, buddy, I’ve got one last treat for you.” Stan ripped open a package of frozen hot dogs and held them just close enough to the fire to get its attention, then pulled out the hot dogs one by one and lobbed them into the forest in a variety of different directions. “Scavenger hunt for you! Try and find ‘em all before the gnomes do!”

The fire scampered into the woods, and Stan breathed a sigh of relief. “See ya, little spitfire.”

He stuffed the various pieces of junk food packaging into the trash can as he headed back to the Shack to do damage control, finding Dipper and Mabel standing in the kitchen.

“It smells good in here!” Mabel commented, still wearing her nightgown. “Kinda charred, but also kinda chocolatey!”

Dipper’s hair was uncombed and his eyes were weighed down with bags, but he’d still brought a magnifying glass to inspect the scene. “You said you blew up the microwave, but the exploded eggs are everywhere but there. What’s going on?”

Stan put on his best ‘hopeless incompetent old man’ face.

“That was actually a lie so you wouldn’t worry,” he told the kids. “I actually kinda blew up the whole stove. And on that note, would you rather order pizza or tacos for breakfast?”

***

End notes:

I like to imagine that fire-related creatures and particularly Scampfires always take a liking to Stan for reasons he doesn’t entirely understand. Maybe it’s for some deep and symbolic reason involving his eventual fate and rise from the ashes, or maybe it’s because they just mistake this extremely huggable old man for a giant marshmallow.

#gravity falls #stanley pines #dipper pines #mabel pines #scampfires #stanuary #rosalia writes fic

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detectivejigsawpines · 4 years

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A mind is a terrible thing to lose

“What other choice do we have?”

For a moment there was silence between the two old men.

Then Stan looked at his twin sharply. “Tell me somethin’, Poindexter. Have you ever made a deal with the triangle that didn’t end with ya bein’ screwed over one way or another?”

Ford blinked. “Well-no, but-”

“Yeah, but nothin’. I’m not doin’ that.” With that, he began shrugging out of his suit jacket, and then untying his tie after he shrugged out of the sleeves and let it drop to the floor.

Ford’s expression was a comical depiction of disbelief: eyes popping, mouth hanging open, eyebrows up in his bangs. After a second, though, he remembered how to use his mouth.

“Stanley, what are you-have you gone mad?!”

“Probably.” Stan pulled his tie off, and began unbuttoning his shirt. “I’m gonna need your sweater.” He looked down at their respective pants. “...Both black, so he might not notice if they’re the same, but I’ll need your boots too.”

At which point Ford finally caught up with his brother’s thought processes. “...You can’t be serious.”

“Watch me.” The younger twin held out his clothes. “We don’t have much time, hurry up!”

“Stanley, you don’t understand! If I use the memory gun on you, you’ll be-!”

“And Bill will be gone forever, and the kids won’t have ta grow up in this hellhole!” With his free hand Stan gestured at the chaos of the world around them. “It’s worth it, Stanford!”

Ford looked like he’d been poleaxed. “Stan…”

“It’ll fix everything,” Stan insisted. Ford feared that there was an unspoken, And you were gonna kick me out at the end of the summer anyway, so it’s not like I’ve got anything ta lose at the end of that sentence.

But he finally gave in to his brother’s impatient glare and removed his coat and sweater, handing them over and taking Stan’s clothes. Then he silently exchanged their shoes and put on Stan’s fez, while Stan fluffed up his hair and worked on changing his voice to match Ford’s.

“Heh, this is gonna be like that time when we tried ta fool Ma so you wouldn’t haveta go ta boxing,” he said with a gruff laugh, clearly hoping to pretend that his hands weren’t trembling a little as he pulled on Ford’s gloves (stuffing the extra finger holes with pieces of wadded-up tissue that had been in his pocket). Then he admitted more sheepishly, “...Course, we better hope Bill’s less perceptive than she was. From what I’ve seen, though, he’s gonna be too busy gloating about ya ‘giving in’ ta notice much.”

Ford didn’t say a word. His mouth started to open as they grabbed onto the bars of their cage again, but then Bill was back, with the kids clutched in one hand, and there was no time for him to say what he’d been thinking.

It’s not worth you, Stanley.

********

Grunkle Stan wasn’t gone.

He wasn’t completely back... but he was there. He’d been found again.

The despair that had enveloped the family in the forest began dissipating as they laughed over Mabel’s eccentric scrapbook entries.

After a while Stan, Mabel and Soos dozed off, all relaxed against each other and drooling shamelessly.

Dipper, exhausted as he was, wasn’t ready to join them just yet. Gingerly he slipped free of the armchair, and began making his way through the debris towards the kitchen.

“Dipper? Where are you going?”

The boy froze up at the sound of his other uncle’s voice-and was startled by the feeling of his fists inadvertently clenching. Quickly he opened them and said, keeping his voice low, “Just gonna see if we have anything salvageable to eat.”

He went on into the kitchen, and tried to pull the door closed behind him-except that only half the door was still there. Dipper sighed, and got a chair to help him climb onto the counter and begin searching the cupboards.

Nothing...nothing...a few cans of partially eaten brown meat (ugh)... and nothing.

Dipper forgot about eating and went out to sit on the front porch.

Ow, everything hurt. He rubbed his sore arm, and wondered if the hospital was open-if so, it was probably crowded with everyone else in town. Soos had said that as far as he knew, they were all still alive, but his primary interest had been finding the Pines family as soon as the chaos ended so he didn’t know for sure-

Ford stepped outside, looking far less stiff and straight-backed than normal, and joined Dipper on the sofa. And without warning, Dipper looked up at him and asked, “How could you?”

His tone was more devoid of awe than it had ever been when he was addressing his idol before. Ford froze, breath hitching, and stared down at him. Dipper continued, voice rising a little, “How could you do that to him?!”

Logically, Dipper knew why, of course. The metal plate in Ford’s head meant that they couldn’t erase Bill out of it, so Stan was the best choice for that course of action. But to be able to use the memory gun on your own twin, and basically destroy everything they were-he could never imagine doing that to Mabel, no matter how messed up things might become between them.

Ford let out a choked sound, and his shoulders drooped even more. “It was our only option left, Dipper-”

Something exploded in the boy’s brain, and he leaped to his feet.

“IT WOULDN’T HAVE BEEN OUR ONLY OPTION IF YOU HADN’T TRIED TO CORRECT HIM ON HIS STUPID GRAMMAR!”

It had been a rough indeterminate amount of time for Dipper recently. He’d spent three days (sort of, since time didn’t really exist during Weirdmageddon) constantly fleeing for his life and hiding from everything, nearly lost his sister to an evil bubble, gone through the entire emotional spectrum several times over, and been forced to watch his family and friends almost be destroyed by a giant Dorito in a top hat. All his pent-up anger and hurt wanted someone to blame for all that, and it had just found a perfect target.

“YOU COULDN’T STOP FIGHTING WITH HIM EVEN THOUGH THE WHOLE WORLD WAS AT STAKE!” Dipper couldn’t remember the last time he’d yelled at someone like this, waving his arms in the air and just ranting every angry thought that came into his head like an ugly tidal wave. He was surprised the others hadn’t come out to investigate the noise; maybe they were so tired they were sleeping through it. “YOU JUST KEPT HURTING EACH OTHER, OVER AND OVER, AND NOW GRUNKLE STAN BARELY REMEMBERS ANYTHING ABOUT WHO HE IS BECAUSE YOU-”

The tirade was brought to a halt by the most unlikely sound: a small, quickly drawn-in inhale through the nostrils; specifically, a sniffle.

And when he looked at Grunkle Ford again, he was horrified to see silent tears spilling down his face.

It was the second time Dipper had ever seen Ford cry.

The first time had been when he was holding Stan, but all he’d really seen of that were his uncle’s trembling shoulders, and when he finally pulled back there’d been damp trails on his face and on Stan’s (technically his) coat. Seeing it happening right in front of him, though, was more than a little frightening.

“No, Grunkle Ford, I-I didn’t mean it-!”

“You’re not wrong.”

His uncle was holding himself, huddling into his trenchcoat and burying his fingers in the sleeves, and he was still crying.

“No, I’m sorry!” Dipper climbed back onto the sofa and, unsure of what else to do, began digging around in his vest pockets in the futile hope that he might have some tissues. “I didn’t mean what I said!”

“You did mean it, Dipper,” Ford corrected him softly. “People who are angry are more likely to be honest about their feelings.”

“But it wasn’t fair to you!” Dipper finally found a scrap of cloth that seemed relatively clean-he wasn’t sure where it had come from, but decided not to worry about it for now-and offered it to him. Ford looked at the cloth in confusion for a moment, then took it and used it to rub under his eyes and clean his glasses. “This wasn’t all your fault-Grunkle Stan could’ve calmed down, or I could’ve not fought with Mabel, or a lot of other things could’ve happened instead to fix all this.”

“But a great deal of it is my fault-specifically, everything that happened to Stanley because I trusted Bill.” His hands shook, and he balled the cloth into one of them in a tight fist.

Dipper wasn’t sure what he should do...until at last he decided to act on his instincts, Mabel style. He climbed into his uncle’s lap, and hugged him gently around the middle.

********

When they had both calmed down somewhat, Dipper murmured, “...I think I need to go back to Piedmont with Mabel. I’m sorry, I know you really wanted me to stay, but-”

Ford shook his head. “That is completely fine, Dipper. I wouldn’t want to be taught by myself either.”

“No, I wasn’t-I was thinking maybe when I’m a little older, like after we finish high school and Mabel’s gone off to some fancy art school in New York or something-” both of them laughed- “then we could talk about that apprenticeship again...but I don’t want to be separated from her for the rest of our teenagehood.”

Ford nodded thoughtfully, and leaned back against the sofa. After a moment he said, “You’re a wiser man than I am, Mason.”

Dipper didn’t know if he agreed with that, but he leaned against his uncle’s chest with a small sigh, and finally allowed his eyes to close.

#gravity falls #stan pines #ford pines #dipper pines #weirdmageddon #take back the falls #bill cipher #stan is a hero #dipper and ford have a much-needed talk #after dipper yells at ford a little #the poor boy's been under a lot of stress recently #scenes before and after the climax

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thelastspeecher · 5 years

Text

Superhero/villain AU - Cousins

Originally, I was just going to post the part of this that had Emmett in it. But then I decided to title it “Cousins”, and I figured I had to include the part I wrote with Emily, since she is also a cousin. As a reminder, this is a modern AU, so Shermie is Dipper and Mabel’s dad, making Stan their uncle, rather than great-uncle. Anyways, enjoy the far too much stuff I wrote, featuring emo Emmett and ray of sunshine Emily.

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“Emily, what powers do you have?” Dipper asked. Emily looked up from what she was working on, some sort of homemade illicit firework. She and Dipper were relaxing in the backyard while Mabel ran errands with Angie.

“Aerokinesis. Why?”

“I’m just curious, that’s all.” Dipper frowned. “I don’t think that runs in the Pines family.”

“You’d be right ‘bout that,” Emily said, turning her attention back to the gunpowder in front of her. “It’s from my ma’s side. Actually, she’s an aero too. And so is her mom. It’s kinda cool. Like a family tradition.” Emily looked up, thinking. “Daisy got Dad’s powers, Danny’s are from Ma’s side – apparently our great-grandma had the same power as her – and Emmett’s are new.”

“New?” Dipper cocked his head curiously. “What do you mean?” He closed his book and put it to the side, then took out a notepad and pen from his vest. Emily chortled.

“You makin’ a family tree or somethin’, cuz?”

“How powers get inherited is just…really cool.”

“Yeah. It is. That’s why Uncle Ford researches it.” Emily sighed. “Anyways, Emmett’s power is sorta a combination of Grandma Pines’ and…” Emily trailed off. She frowned. “One of Grandma Gucket’s sister’s, I think. Grandma Gucket is estranged from her family, so I’ve never met whoever it is Emmett got part of his power from.”

“What is his power?” Dipper asked. Emily shook her head.

“Sorry, kid. My sisters, I’m fine tellin’ you, but Emmett’s power is, ah, sensitive. He doesn’t like people knowing about it. If you wanna know, ask him.”

“Maybe…” Dipper chewed on his pen thoughtfully. He hadn’t seen much of Stan and Angie’s only son, even over a month into the summer. Emmett was very antisocial, or to use the word Mabel had immediately identified him as, emo.

“Hey bro-bro, hey Emily!” Mabel’s shout shocked Dipper from his reverie. He looked over. Mabel bounded through the back door and over to them. “Auntie Angie got me some new yarn!”

“It weren’t no problem,” Angie replied, strolling outside. She smiled fondly at Mabel. “Got to encourage creativity in young folk.”

“Aunt Angie, Emily was telling me you had powers?” Dipper asked her. Angie froze. She frowned at Emily.

“Wait, what?” Mabel gasped. “I thought you didn’t! I thought that was why Dad told us not to ask you what power you have!”

“I-” Angie’s expression was conflicted. She took a breath. “The reason yer dad said not to ask was prob’ly because it’s a bit rude to ask. The two of ya could use some work on yer manners, after all.”

“What power do you have?” Mabel asked.

“Emily said aerokinesis,” Dipper said. Mabel’s eyes widened.

“Whoa, isn’t that like, what Uncle Stan’s archnemesis has?” she asked. Angie glared at Emily.

“…Yes.”

“Oh my gosh, that’s so romantic,” Mabel gushed. “I mean, you two fell in love even though you have the same power as the person he hates most!”

“I think the person Dad hates most is the IRS,” Emily said. Her cheerful tone sounded a bit forced. “Then again, that’s an organization, not a person.”

“Mm-hmm.” Angie cleared her throat. “Emily?”

“Comin’,” Emily said, getting to her feet. She followed Angie inside.

“I didn’t know that would get Emily in trouble,” Dipper said quietly to Mabel. “I feel kinda bad.”

“Pfft, you’re probably reading into things,” Mabel said. “Auntie Angie probably isn’t mad at her. I mean, she didn’t do anything wrong.”

“Yeah, but…” Dipper sighed. “Never mind. Did you have any luck with Aunt Angie?”

“Nope.” Mabel flopped onto the grass next to him. “She said she doesn’t know anything about Uncle Stan’s job.”

“Great. So we’re no closer to figuring out who Sirocco is.” Dipper resuming chewing on his pen. “Maybe we could ask Emily if she knows any aeros other than her and Aunt Angie. It’s not a very common power.”

“Maybe.” Mabel picked at the grass. “Dipper, are you sure you wanna keep at this? It’s kinda boring. I mean, if Uncle Stan couldn’t figure out Sirocco’s true identity, do we stand a chance at it? Wouldn’t you rather go do touristy things and look at all the stuff in the city? Auntie Angie said Emily is planning on taking us to some superhero-themed place tomorrow.”

“We can do both, Mabel. And yes, I wanna figure it out. I don’t have the kind of power that’s gonna make me a natural superhero, so I need to make sure I’ve got the detective part down. This is good practice.”

“I guess,” Mabel sighed.

“By the way, I think Emmett has some sort of telepathic power.”

“Really? Why?”

“Emily said his power is actually combined from Grandma Pines’ and someone in Aunt Angie’s family. Grandma Pines is telepathic. And it’d make sense for someone to avoid people if they’re telepathic. Being able to hear thoughts all the time has to be difficult,” Dipper said. Mabel nodded. “But Emily wouldn’t tell me outright what his power is. She said it’s ‘sensitive’. Whatever that means.”

“We should ask him.”

“Maybe.” Dipper rubbed the back of his neck. “But I get the feeling if it’s sensitive enough Emily won’t tell us, Emmett won’t, either.”

“That’s quitter talk. You’re never gonna be a detective if you won’t ask our own cousin a question,” Mabel said, shoving him playfully. Dipper shoved her back, laughing.

“Kids!” Dipper and Mabel looked over at the back door. It was Angie. “Emily’s grounded fer a couple days, so Emmett’s goin’ to take ya to the café tomorrow. Sound good?”

“Sounds great, Auntie Angie!” Mabel shouted. Angie smiled. She closed the back door. Mabel turned to Dipper. “Huh. I guess you were right. Emily’s in trouble.”

“Yeah. But why? Why would telling someone about Aunt Angie’s power get her grounded?” Dipper wondered out loud. Mabel grinned at him.

“Maybe you should work on that, detective.”

-----

“So, uh, here’s the coffeeshop or whatever,” Emmett mumbled, nodding at the store they were standing in front of. He stuffed his hands into his hoodie pocket. “They’ve got good hot chocolate.”

“What about espresso?” Mabel asked. Emmett glanced at her with the eye not covered by his dyed black hair.

“…If I let you have coffee, Dad’ll be so mad, he might sign me up fer boxing again.” Emmett looked back at the storefront. “But that bein’ said, they have a decent espresso.” Emmett let out a long sigh. “Let’s just get this over with.” He pushed open the door, making the bell above jingle.

“By the way, Emmett,” Mabel said, following him into the coffeeshop, “I’ve been meaning to ask. What brand eyeliner do you use?” Emmett eyed her again. “It just looks so nice!”

“Uh, thanks,” Emmett said. He looked away. “It’s part of the Angst Outside line from g.n.o.m.e.”

“I’ll have to look into that,” Mabel chirped. She sniffed the air. “Mm. I love the coffee smell! Don’t you, Dipper?”

“Yeah, I like it,” Dipper agreed. He looked around. The coffeeshop was quaint and cute, like most local cafés. There was a back wall apparently reserved for fliers promoting various events, tchotchkes on every surface, and some sort of folksy music playing. What set apart the coffeeshop from other ones he’d been to was the theme of the décor. Superheroes. The tchotchkes were superhero figurines and the artsy posters on the walls renditions of local heroes. Dipper picked up a ceramic sculpture of someone he thought was called Manly Man. Ignoring his cousins’ fascination with the décor, Emmett trudged over to the counter.

“Well, like I said, I’m not getting either of you guys coffee. Or anything with caffeine, really.” He let out a long sigh. “I guess I can get you a cookie to share or somethin’.”

“Ooh, yes!” Mabel bounded over to the display case by the counter, pressing her face against the glass. “Dipper, look! They’ve got a cookie named after Un- Flamethrower!”

“Wait, really?” Dipper joined his twin at the display case. Mabel pointed at a gingersnap cookie that had a honey-chili frosting on top in the shape of the logo on Stan’s superhero suit. “Cool.”

“This place is themed after superheroes,” Emmett grunted. He shrugged. “I like the supervillain one more, but Dad wanted you to come here, so…”

“I like the supervillain one more, too,” a teenaged boy said, coming out from a door behind the counter. He grinned at Emmett. ��Most Sycamore Grove kids do.” Emmett beamed. Dipper elbowed Mabel.

“Mabel, look!” Mabel tore herself away from the sweets. She gaped.

“I don’t think I’ve seen Emmett smile once this summer,” she whispered. Emmett leaned on the counter.

“I didn’t know ya worked here, Carter,” he said, his voice just as cheerful as Emily’s usually was. Carter chuckled.

“Well, don’t tell Ruby or Derek. They might kick me outta the group.”

“Please,” Emmett said, waving a hand clad in a fingerless glove. “You were there when my dad got home from work that day. You didn’t kick me out, and neither did Ruby or Derek when they found out. Workin’ here ain’t nearly as big a deal as my dad’s job.”

“Yeah, but you didn’t choose your dad’s job. I chose to work here,” Carter said playfully. Emmett laughed. “So, lemme guess, these kids are your cousins?” Emmett paled.

“You didn’t-”

“No! I know better than to outside of school. They look a lot like your dad, that’s all.”

“Oh. Right.” Emmett looked at Dipper and Mabel. “Yeah. They do.” He cleared his throat. “So, uh, go ahead and order, okay?”

“I think we’re going to need a minute to decide,” Dipper said, scanning the extensive menu behind Carter. Mabel had returned to ogling the desserts. Emmett smiled weakly.

“Take yer time,” he said. He turned back to Carter. “Have ya heard from Leif lately?”

-----

Emmett and Carter chatted the entire time Carter was working on their drinks, animatedly discussing mutual friends and teachers. By the time they finally left the coffeeshop, Dipper and Mabel had heard at least twice as many words from Emmett as they’d heard since they arrived.

“I know a shortcut,” Emmett said, jerking his head in the direction of a nearby alleyway.

“Are you sure?” Dipper asked. He wrapped his fingers tightly around his to-go iced hot chocolate. “It looks a bit shady.”

“It’s fine.” Emmett walked away at a fast pace, making Dipper and Mabel jog briefly to catch up. The further they got from the coffeehouse, the more withdrawn he became, his posture slumped and eyes downcast.

“Who was that?” Mabel asked.

“Carter? He’s m’ best friend.”

“What’s Sycamore Grove?” Dipper asked. Emmett hunched his shoulders.

“The high school I go to.”

“I thought Emily said she went to…what was it called? Franklin?”

“Yeah,” Emmett mumbled. “We go to dif’rent high schools.”

“But you guys are twins!” Mabel said. Emmett’s pace slowed.

“Yeah,” he repeated. “But I had to go to Sycamore Grove fer…reasons.” Emmett kicked at a rock. It hit a nearby dumpster with a ringing sound. “Emily doesn’t need to go there, though, so she goes to Franklin.”

“Is Sycamore Grove the high school for troubled teens?” Dipper asked. His eyes widened.

Oh no, I shouldn’t have said that! Emmett might think I’m insulting him! To his surprise, Emmett let out a soft chuckle.

“I mean, yer not completely wrong.”

“What do you mean?” Mabel asked. Emmett sighed.

“It’s complicated. I don’t wanna-” Emmett came to a sudden stop. He held his arm out, blocking Dipper and Mabel from going past him. “I see you,” Emmett said in a clear, carrying voice. “Stop hidin’ and come out here in the open.” Dipper winced. Something about Emmett’s voice was almost painful to hear. A shadowy figure dropped from above, landing in front of them.

“Who’s-” Mabel started. Emmett put a hand on her head.

“Shh, cuz. Lemme handle this.” Emmett straightened his back. He looked directly at the stranger in front of them. “Go home.” Dipper winced again.

Why does it hurt when he talks like that? It’s like he’s shouting, but he’s not. Or like he’s saying more than one thing at once. The stranger turned around and began to walk away.

“Drop everything dangerous yer carrying,” Emmett said quickly. Despite the pain it caused, Dipper listened intently to his cousin’s voice, trying to figure out what was going on. The stranger slowly removed items from their pockets, dropping them onto the ground. “When you get home, forget you saw us.” Dipper clasped his hands over his ears. His drink fell to the ground.

Okay, trying to listen harder was a bad decision. Emmett crouched down in front of him.

“Dipper?” Emmett asked quietly. “You all right?” Emmett’s eyes, for once neither of them hidden by his bangs, were full of concern. Up close, Dipper could see they were a rich brown, like his and Mabel’s.

“Yeah, I just- your voice hurt a bit, that’s all.”

“It hurt?” Emmett said. He seemed taken aback. “That’s- how would that-” He furrowed his brow. “What power do you have?”

“Um, Dad says it’s called omnilingualism.”

“Omni- Oh. You understand languages and codes?”

“Y-yeah.”

“How powerful are you?”

“Um, I dunno.”

“Can you figure out people’s intentions by readin’ body language, if you focus hard enough?”

“Yeah.”

“Oh dear.” Emmett grimaced. “I bet you got a bit of Grandma Pines’ telepathy. I’m sorry, Dipper. If I’d known, I wouldn’t have gone so strong.”

“Whattaya mean?” Mabel asked. “How did your voice hurt Dipper? I’m fine!”

“People with communication-based abilities like omnilingualism get affected more by my power,” Emmett said. He looked over Dipper with a careful gaze similar to Angie’s. “And folks with telepathy can tell when I use it, but they’re usually able to block it out. I’m guessin’ those two things made ya get hurt even though I wasn’t directing anything at you, Dipper. Again, I’m sorry. If I ever have to do it again ‘round you, I’ll be more careful.”

“I’m fine, I just- wait, what about that bad guy?” Dipper asked. Emmett didn’t even bother to look over his shoulder.

“He’s headin’ home and won’t remember what we look like, don’t worry.”

“How do you know he-” Dipper started. He paused. “Unless your power is…”

“…Yeah.” Emmett stood to his full height again and looked away. “I can control people.” He stuffed his hands into his hoodie pocket. “Grandma Gucket’s sister could do it by singin’ at folks. Called it a siren call. Grandma Pines can by usin’ her telepathy if she tries hard enough. I got a bit of both. Verbal commands work best, but if I so much as think ‘bout somethin’ I want someone to do, it usually happens.”

“How did you figure it out?” Mabel asked. Emmett scuffed the toe of his shoe against the ground.

“When my sister actually left my room when I told her to, I knew somethin’ was afoot.” He sighed. “I’ve gotten good enough that controlling people is on purpose most of the time. But I still slip up sometimes. So Ma and Dad shipped me off to Sycamore Grove.” Emmett shook his head. “Enough ‘bout my power. Dipper, if ya want, we can get you a new drink.”

“It’s fine, I think I wanna go back to your house,” Dipper said quietly.

“Fair enough.” Emmett set off. He kept glancing at Dipper as they walked, visibly worried.

“I’m fine, Emmett, don’t worry.”

“Yeah, I just…” Emmett looked away. “…Never mind.”

“Seriously though, what sort of school is Sycamore Grove?” Dipper asked. “I mean, Carter said people from there don’t like the superhero café or Uncle Stan’s job, you said it was sort of for troubled teens, Aunt Angie and Uncle Stan sent you there because of your power-” Dipper cut himself off. He exchanged a look with Mabel. Mabel’s eyes were wide, indicating she had figured it out, too.

“Yep,” Emmett said glumly. “It’s the school villains send their kids to.”

“Whoa,” Dipper and Mabel said together. Emmett nodded.

“Sure, anyone can attend, but no one would send their kid there if they didn’t have to. Unfortunately, they’re the only people who can handle my powers, which means I’m one of the kids who has to go there.”

“I’m guessing Uncle Stan didn’t like that,” Dipper said. Emmett grinned, surprising Dipper.

“You’d be right. Ma won’t even let him pick me up from school, she’s so worried ‘bout someone recognizing him as the hero, Flamethrower. I actually kinda like how uncomfortable it makes Dad.” He glanced at Dipper and Mabel. “Now that I’ve gotten used to goin’ to school with a bunch of kids whose parents regularly beat up mine.”

“Doesn’t it make Aunt Angie uncomfortable, too, sending you there?” Dipper asked. “You only mentioned Uncle Stan.” Emmett’s eyes widened. He looked away hurriedly.

“Uh, yeah, it- it does, it’s just that since Dad’s actually a hero, his discomfort is more entertaining.” Emmett took a left turn and they exited the alleyway. Stan and Angie’s house stood before them.

“We’re back already?” Mabel asked, surprised. Emmett nodded.

“Yep.”

“That was some shortcut. I need tips from you,” Mabel said cheerfully.

“…Maybe some other time. I’m gonna…go…” Emmett said. By the end of his sentence, he had resumed the soft mumbling they usually heard from him. He headed for the house. Dipper grabbed Mabel before she could follow.

“What is it, bro-bro?” Mabel asked him.

“Emmett lied,” Dipper whispered to her. “Once he said he went to a villain school, I decided to pay extra attention to see if he was lying at all.”

“And he was? When?”

“When he said that Aunt Angie was uncomfortable with sending him to the villain high school.”

“So Auntie Angie thinks that’s fine? She married a superhero!”

“I know.” Dipper looked over at the house. Angie was weeding in the front garden. She caught sight of them and waved. “I think we need to go back to the drawing board, Mabel. We’ve got some clues to connect.” Mabel groaned.

“You’re not gonna use my red yarn again, are you?”

“What else would I use on my evidence board?”

“Fine,” Mabel mumbled. She poked him. “I had a really cute sweater planned, so this better be worth it.”

“Don’t worry. It will be.”

#.......I did NOT mean to write this much #I just couldn't control myself whoops #I wanted to write some Emily and Emmett with Dip and Mabs and I got a bit out of hand #Superhero/villain AU #Stangie Family #Emily Pines #Dipper Pines #Mabel Pines #Angie McGucket #Emmett McGucket #my writing #ficlet #speecher speaks

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friendlycybird · 5 years

Text

Stanuary 2019 Week Three - Dreams

Stanuary Week Three - Dreams

Summary: Nightmares are nothing new for Stanley Pines. It's just these particular nightmares seem like they just might be cause for concern.

Word Count: 1663

Content Warnings: Nightmares. Suicidal thoughts, sort- of. ...are references to Bill Cipher a content warning?

AO3

When Stan first remembered exactly how his final confrontation with Bill had gone, he’d relayed the memory victoriously. “...and then I punched the evil little nacho chip right in the eyeball!”

“Gotta admit,” Dipper said. “I’m a little jealous.”

“Oh this one…” Stan agreed “This is a memory I’m gonna treasure.”

So he really didn’t mind reliving that memory in his dreams. Just when it happened three nights in a row, it started to feel a little weird. He told Ford on his way to bed the fourth night. “Just hope I don’t dream about Bill again.”

“You’ve been dreaming about Bill?” Ford was clearly alarmed.

Stan sought to reassure. “Just the part where we pulled one over on him and I smashed him to a million pieces.” he didn’t like the way Ford looked at him for a long moment. Seeking out signs of a lie in his face. He wouldn’t find one, as much because Stan didn’t really have noticeable tells as because he wasn’t lying this time. Not really. It was just the one moment over and over again, but sometimes it would distort. There wasn’t a better word for it then that.

That night the distortion happened after the punch connected. He watched Bill shatter. Watched the flames rise higher. There was a glitch, like an old video cassette. Then suddenly millions of gold pieces flew together from the far reaches of his empty mind and re-formed into a familiar, and unwelcome figure.

“YOU THOUGHT YOU COULD GET RID OF ME THAT EASILY?”

Stan didn’t bolt upright from dreams often. He had his share of nightmares. With everything he’d seen in his life, the returning memories of times he’d almost died or worse, Stan’s dreams were often unpleasant at best. This was the first time sheer panic had forced him upright upon waking. He gasped for breath a few times before catching it, heart pounding.

He laid back down after a minute, not the least bit tired. That hadn’t happened, he reminded himself. Bill had been destroyed with his memories. The problem was, of course, that his memories were back. So where was Bill? The question from the dream echoed in Stan’s mind, and with it, the faint sound of that monster’s laugh.

Somehow, he fell asleep again. Once again, he dreamed of Bill. This time of the heart-stopping moments right before the deal. When he’d wanted to cough, but he needed the tightness in his throat for a convincing imitation. The slow oscillation between two symbols coming to a stop on a Shooting Star. Ford grabbing him by the jacket and Stan finding a thousand tiny things in his performance that weren’t quite right and the cold terror that Bill would see any one of them. The way the stuffed sixth glove finger sat awkwardly alongside the rest as he offered his hand.

He didn’t remember if the moment that followed was an accurate account of what it had really been like. Maybe he never would and honestly, Stan was okay with that. The feeling of being invaded. Of your very personhood being pushed below the surface and held under, like being drowned in spirit but not in body. The sudden, disorienting, lack of awareness of his body and the even more sudden, reorienting awareness of his mindscape and the high-pitched grating feeling to match Bill’s voice that something here was not his, and not welcome.

He woke when Bill opened the door.

Two dreams of Bill in the same night. That was concerning. He told Ford, who was alarmed for a moment before schooling his features into something calm and patient. “Well, it was a traumatic experience for you. The source of all of the damage your mind has suffered. Given your miraculous recovery, we shouldn’t be at all surprised there are a few lingering psychological scars.”

“Given my miraculous recovery,” Stan answered “Shouldn’t we be worried that’s not all that’s ‘lingering’?”

Ford was tense and pale and silent for too long before he said “You’re worried Bill has returned with your memories.” Stan nodded simply. Ford exhaled, blowing out a long breath and falling silent again. “Stanley, I have to believe your dreams are just that, dreams. Bill is - was, a capable demon. If he didn’t want his presence known, you wouldn’t be aware of him in any capacity. If he did...we’d have more trouble than simple nightmares.”

Stan studied Ford for signs as to whether or not he believed his own words. Ford wasn’t a great liar, but he’d grown up telling half-truths. Typically on Stan’s behalf. If nothing had changed, Stan would know it. Should know it. Instead, he found Ford’s expression unreadable. None of the open honesty of their childhood, of course not. Ford was much too guarded for that now. None of the subtle tells of a lie either. Stan didn’t know where they stood, so he said “Alright, but if they turn out to be more than just dreams…” he hesitated, and turned to go, calling the last over his shoulder so Ford wouldn’t have time to react to it. “You’re gonna shoot me in the head again, this time with a real gun.” and Stan was gone.

That, he was aware, had been a little bit cruel. He didn’t care. He got the message across while conveying it was not up for discussion. Ford was quieter than usual the rest of the day. Stan couldn’t blame him. He wanted to apologize, but he wasn’t sorry. He wasn’t willing to take risks on this subject, and Ford needed to understand that.

In his dream that night, Ford understood that too well. The fear was only there a moment when he woke, before he began noticing the inconsistencies.The panicked way Ford checked his eyes was lifted straight from his first visit to the Shack decades ago. The rough way Ford had grabbed him and pushed him to his knees and the cold of the barrel of a gun pressed to the back of his head were memories that didn’t even involve Ford. The gun, he noted, had been the wrong shape. Like the normal gun he remembered, not his brother’s triangular one. He wondered if in that situation he really would growl out “Sixer, it’s me.”

“Is it?” Ford hissed, his voice sounding just like a burn felt. “How can I know? You don’t even know! You asked for this!” Stan could hear his brother’s pitch rise, his words speed, panic setting in.

“Hey, hey, it’s alright…” he said softly. How was he, the one on the ground with a gun to his head, the one doing the comforting? “It’s alright, Ford, you gotta protect the kids.” and why would he say that? He would never say that, he reflected. Not while it was still him. Not without damn good reason. He’d said it though, so that could only mean there was good reason. “Do what you gotta do.”

Ford was breathing like he’d been crying and Stan wanted to offer comfort. But there was a gun to his head and even though he’d personally just given permission to fire, instinct kept him from moving his hands. “Goodbye, Stanley.”

Before he could say it back, everything went black. He didn’t even hear the shot.

“Okay.” he admitted to Ford in the morning. “I crossed the line yesterday, I’m sorry.”

Ford looked startled, then relaxed. “Was your comment malicious? Or were you merely trying to prepare me for an ugly possibility?”

Stan grumbled a moment, then “That second thing, yeah.”

“Then there’s no need for apology.” Ford stated. He looked at Stan. “If anything, I should apologize. I’m sorry, Stanley. I won’t be following your demand. Regardless of the circumstances.”

Stan looked at him, then laughed. “You hear yourself? You’re apologizing for not being willing to murder me. What are we?” he laughed again, and Ford cracked a smile. Stan was still smiling when his laugh died down. “Don’t get me wrong.” he said, serious despite the smile. “I’m still scared. I know too good to be true when I smell it and our little happy ending here reaks. So be careful. Don’t...go outta your mind careful or go shooting without notice but. If it’s ever...you know. A choice. You know what I want.”

The way Ford looked at him then was uncomfortable. It was soft and open and something right on the edge of a smile stayed on his lips and Stan felt the weight of it. “I shouldn’t be surprised.” Ford said after a moment. Stan decided he didn’t want to dig into whatever led to that comment and mumbled something about cooking for them.

Stan still had nightmares after that, but they were about other things. Sometimes, they were memories. Sometimes they blurred memory and intangible fear. Bill was a subject sometimes, but often enough he wasn’t that Stan began to feel his anxiety about that particular series of dreams ease. Then one night, he had a good dream.

The kids were back for another summer. Dipper was noticeably taller than Mabel now, and made a show of rejecting Stan’s offer to mock her with him. Soos in the Mr. Mystery suit, but still sitting on the floor at Stan’s feet as they all watched an episode of Ducktective together, which proceeded to take over the dream and give Stan the exact series of plot twists he hadn’t realized he wanted from the show. For some reason, he still woke up startled. Breathing labored. It was only with a moments reflection that he realized he’d spent the entire dream anxiously waiting for something to go wrong.

He knew what to do to keep that from coming true.

Stan laid back down, lesson learned for the moment. Then, after several moments silence, he groaned aloud.

For the life of him, even minutes after the dream ended, Stan couldn’t remember those Ducktective twists his subconscious had made up!

#stanuary 2019 #stan pines #ford pines #stanuary week 3 #cybird writes

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transcendence-au · 6 years

Note

TAU AU where Henry becomes a demon, either in the place of Dipper or instead of the Woodsman. Fic open season!

Consider the Transcendence in 2012

Henry would be 13 (technically a teen!) to Mabel and Dipper’s 12. How did he end up in Gravity Falls here and now?

Perhaps a kind woman with no name gave him a ride to his uncle’s house, perhaps his uncle had custody of him, or perhaps his branch of the Corduroy clan had never left in the first place.

How did it happen, how does it end? All good questions. But perhaps a better one is to consider-

—————-

March 2026

(if the author was so inclined, this Transcendence would happen on the day of the triplet’s birth, for that extra bit of pathos. But let’s give Mabel a break; it’s hard being pregnant)

Henry had always believed Mabel and Dipper and Stan when they told him about that first summer the twins had come to Gravity Falls. It was hard not to, between the presence of Dr. Pines (he could never bring himself to call the man Ford, like he called Stan ‘Stan’), the scars on Mabel and Dipper, and of course, all the many Other beings that called Gravity Falls home.

He was aware of the possibility that Bill could return, that the binding of the Wheel could come undone.

(-not that anyone ever brought the idea up in conversation; but Henry could hardly blame them-)

He just never thought it would actually happen.

Henry managed to stagger to his feet. The shockwave from the gun that Dr. Pines had created knocked everyone down, except for Stan who had had the quick wits to engage the brakes in his wheelchair.

Bill was still there. That was… discouraging.

Slightly more encouraging was the ichor dripping from his eye, the bricks slowly crumbling and falling to the ground. Didn’t Dr. Pines say earlier that the gun could fire two or three shots?

“WELL WELL WELL. YOU CRAZY KIDS SURE DID A NUMBER ON THIS BODY.”

Next to him, Henry could see Dipper tense up, saw Mabel clutch her bat tighter in her hands.

“SO I THINK IT’S ONLY FAIR THAT I BORROW ONE OF Y̹̝̳ O̸̺̪͉̦̝͚ͅ U̢̩̥̗̗̣ R̨̘̪͕̱ S̱͖̪.”

All of the blood drained from Dipper’s face as Bill’s hands joined together.

“EENIE-” a point at Dr. Pines

“MEENIE-” a point at Candy even as Dr. Pines scrambled to prime the gun one more time, caring no longer about subtlety.

“MINIE-” a point at Manly Dan.

“YOU.”

Dipper stood frozen as Bill went greyscale, his corporeal form dropping like a stone to the ground.

Ten minutes, ten years, ten centuries afterwards, Henry could never quite say what had propelled his feet to move, moved him to throw his body in front of Dipper’s own.

All he remembered was seeing Gravity Falls burning around him one moment and then the next-

—

“THIS IS UNEXPECTED.”

Henry looked around. They were in a forest… but it wasn’t the forest that grew in and around Gravity Falls. No, here the trees were taller, broader, their canopies impossibly large and the air primeval.

“DON’T BE SO SURPRISED ANTLERS, THIS IS YOUR MINDSC-”

Bill paused, and then spewed from his eye black bile. And though Henry was divorced from his body here, he knew without knowing how that back in the real world, whoever was next to him-

(DipperGrendaFordMABEL)

-would see the veins in his arms, in his neck run that same pitch black.

Bill coughed once, and the ichor managed to stop, though even as he straightened up, a brick fell out of his middle.

“I CAN WORK WITH THIS! I’M JUST GOING TO NEED YOU TO D̯́Ị̼E͎̜̞̪͜ͅ-”

Pain flared through Henry’s being, unimaginable and all-encompassing. For a heartstopping moment, Henry was so very sure that this was it, that his body was going to be hijacked to kill the ones he loved-

Something small, quiet inside him woke up and simply said-

“No.”

—

-the next he was waking up in Mabel’s arms, his face and front wet from the snot and tears she was dripping on him.

His entire body ached… no. That wasn’t quite it. More like it felt like every nerve was on fire, like an size XL stuffed into a size XS meat suit, like-

(meat suit?)

“Don’t you ever fucking do that again!” Mabel screeched, and then pounded him in the chest with one first for good measure. “I’m the only one who gets to do dumb things in this relationship.”

Henry huffed out a small laugh. “Not for the next eight months,” he gently pointed out.

Mabel paused.

“Oh yeah. Poop.”

“Mabel. Mabel sweetie.”

They both turned towards the sound of Stan’s voice as he slowly wheeled himself over to him.

“Who are you talking to?”

Mabel laughed. “Henry!”

Stan’s face froze. It looked like he (and Ford, and Dipper) had bitten into something rotten.

“Mabel….” Stan started, and then stopped. He looked over to Dipper, who knelt down next to them, tears streaming down his face.“Mabel; Henry isn’t there.”

#transcendence au #fic #henry #mabel #dipper #bill #ford #stan #:3 #Henry's No Good Very Bad Terrible Horrible Day AU

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imma-soft-beeboy · 6 years

Text

Reverse Falls - The Pines Twin Show

A/N: This was requested by a lovely anon who sent me some headcanons they had about Reverse Falls and asked me to right a short about it. Hope y'all enjoy! ^_^

WARNINGSNone.

It was hot -much too hot to even exist in fact- yet Pacifica and Gideon were stuck in this hellish heat that had unleashed itself onto Gravity Falls, Oregon. They were doing all they could do to stay cool, but it seemed an impossible feat. Pacifica pushed her hair back from where it was being blown in her face by the fan in front of the two before looking for some flower to suck on. Finding a daisy she plucked it from the ground and inserted it into her mouth.

“What could we possibly do today,” Gideon asked as he mopped his forehead.

“Who cares… Hey pass me a cola will you,” Pacifica wiggled her fingers needily as she waited for the drink. Once she had it she guzzled it down greedily, Gideon watching on slightly impressed.

“Well I have an idea for you kids,” Gideon’s father chuckled at them suddenly appearing on the porch, “why don’t you join me and Mrs. Gleeful? We’re going to see the most recent Pines Twin Show.” Both kids groaned and looked at one another; the Pines Twins were known for their daring magic shows. They personally found the twins annoying and unfriendly, but for some reason the entire town was enamored by the two. “They have a new hypnosis act,” his dad added in a helpful manner.

Eyes widening the two children shared a knowing look, that sounded like another evil plan; the newest from the Pines twins. What could they possibly be trying this time? “We’ll go,” Pacifica spoke up finally, Gideon nodding.

“Great! We’re going to be leaving in a little bit here,” Gideon’s dad then turned on his heels and left. Immediately Gideon grabbed his backpack to prepare for whatever this trip may entitle.

“Don’t forget grappling hook,” Pacifica exclaimed pulling said item from under the front steps they were seated on.

“Of course,” Gideon rolled his eyes at her foolish obsession with the grappling hook she had found, “put it in.” Sticking out her tongue at him Pacifica did as he asked then ran towards the car to meet Gideon’s parents; Gideon followed suit.

><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><

At the show it was crowded, surely the whole town was there. “Come in, come in,” barked the twins Great Uncle, “there’s plenty of room for all!” As Pacifica and Gideon entered the tent they saw that indeed there was enough room ‘for all.’ The twins had stuffed the tent with benches from stage front to tent end.

“What are they planning,” Gideon whispered into Pacifica’s ear.

“Who knows, but it seems pretty big,” Pacifica replied in a hushed tone, taking in all the benches and people. They took the closest set of seats, squishing in between the people around them.

Soon the lights dimmed signifying the start of the show, and everyone quieted. The crowd watched the red curtains in rapt excitement, only blinking with a flinch when a loud bang sounded. The oldest twin, Dipper, shot from in between the curtains flying over the crowd before stopping himself by grabbing a beam, twirling around it he landed on it standing. Applause thundered within the tent, but silenced when he raised a dramatic arm towards the stage, where the curtains had parted.

There stood his sister, Mabel, in a glittery top hat leaning on a baton. She stubbed out a cigar (used to light the canon) she was holding on the barrel of the canon with a wink. Then a cloud of smoke plumed and her brother was beside her, the two bowed as the crowd clapped.

“Now we’ll need a volunteer for our next trick, someone with a pendant or necklace,” Mabel announced, her smile deceivingly wide. She dramatically searched with her finger over the crazed crowd before selecting a random lady. The woman was ecstatic as she ran towards the stage, the rest of the crowd settling again. Dipper silently sat her in a chair before taking the pendant from around her neck, and holding it in front of her face. “Watch very closely, we’re using her jewelry to ensure it’s not rigged.” The whole crowd seemed to lean forwards, waiting.

The necklace began to sway in Dippers hands. “You’ll begin to feel sleepy, but you must not fall asleep; focus.” Everyone nodded at Mabel’s words, Pacifica and Gideon looked at each other surprised.

“So this is their plan,” Gideon gasped quietly.

“We have to stop this now,” Pacifica pulled Gideon with her to sneak off backstage.

“Now you will do everything we say,” they heard Mabel’s voice ring out. Slowly the two made their way backstage as the twins continued.

“Gideon, you’ll grab the necklace while I distract them,” Pacifica ordered before walking onto stage. “Stop right there Pines Twins, we know what you’re up to.”

“You can’t stop us, we control the entire town now,” Mabel laughed bitterly.

“Get her off the stage,” Dipper spoke in a monotone voice. The crowd rose, coming closer. Pacifica’s stance fell, where was Gideon?! The crowds hands outstretched they were almost upon the stage, ready to seize her. It was at that moment Gideon came swinging from the beams up above, he snatched the pendant from Dippers hands and landed on another beam.

“Stop,” he cried out holding up the swinging necklace, “you’ll forget everything that has happened during this show, and go back to your own wills.” All the people in the crowd stopped their actions suddenly, dazed. The twins gasped in anger, before Dipper dropped the curtains with his magic and swung at Pacifica. She dodged and punched him on the side of the face.

Jumping from the beam Gideon tackled Mabel, who was sneaking up on Pacifica from behind, and wrestled her to the ground. He then stuffed her into the canon, having a sudden idea. “Pacifica, quick,” he motioned at the canon, nodding in understanding Pacifica punched Dipper in the direction. Giving him on last upper cut, she watched him fall back into the canon. Lighting the canon with the cigar from before they laughed as they watched the twins launched into the distance.

“Great job,” Gideon congratulated Pacifica.

“Told you grappling hook is always important.” Pacifica pushed his shoulder playfully.

“Yeah, yeah.”

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reinstotheworld · 6 years

Text

Now that I’m home, I’m finally getting around to posting my Stancest holiday exchange. This is for the lovely @ficksuck, who wanted some Christmas cookie shenanigans.

Rating: PG/PG-13 (for some implied naughtiness)

Featuring: Holiday cookies, first time kisses between old Stans, and a boat that I keep changing the layout of to suit my own purposes.

Stan brushed the cookie crumbs off his stubble, then spied a large piece of what had once been a snowman resting on his belly. “Oh, thought you could get away from me, eh?” He picked up the snowman midsection and popped it into his mouth, hearing a soft tutting from behind him as he munched away on the black icing button.

“Did you have to eat the whole box?”

He held out the opened box, colorful wrapping torn at the top, and gave it a shake to prove its contents. “Despite my well-known opinions on sharing, I saved you some.”

“I thought you didn’t even like the holidays,” Ford murmured, sitting down across from him at the table. “Yet here you are, neck-deep in holiday cheer.” He peered into the box and selected a cookie that was in the shape of a dreidel, taking a bite of the frosted gimel.

“That’s a nice way of saying I’m stuffing my face. But no, that’s you, ya Scrooge. People spending lots of money on useless junk? What’s there not to love?” Stan chuckled to himself and picked up another cookie, biting into Santa’s head unceremoniously.

“Ah, seasonal greed. That makes sense.” Ford took another bite of the dreidel cookie, finishing it off with a satisfied hum. He picked up another from the box, a blue snowflake, and picked off two of the branches to nibble on first.

“Plus, ya know, family and all. I may not be peddling cheap crap anymore, but when you’ve got a niece sending you a box of homemade cookies it’s hard not to….I dunno.”

“Be less of a cynical bastard?” Ford supplied.

Stan snapped his fingers and pointed. “That’s the one. Less of a cynical bastard.”

Ford pulled off another branch of the cookie-snowflake, chewing quietly and making a face that worried Stan. It was his ‘I’m overthinking again and about to ask my brother an uncomfortable question’ face, and as he lifted his gaze from the box Stan braced himself.

“Do you ever think about what the holidays were like at our house when we were children?”

Yep, there it was. Stan scoffed and sat back against the chair, which let out a tired squeak from his weight.

He had to admit that he did sometimes think about his childhood in New Jersey. There were happy memories to be had there. Their parents would light the menorah and take them for Chinese on the 25th, and they would trek down to the beach in their winter gear and watch the fireworks over the bay for New Year’s. Pops would save some of the weirder things in the pawn shop to give to them for Hanukkah, old maps for Ford and weird masks for him, and Ma would get them chocolate gelt that Stan would always be too impatient to use. Ford always let him play with just the empty foil shells though, never complaining when his winnings didn’t include the candy that his brother had already eaten.

“Nah,” he lied. “Never look back, I always say.”

“Stanley, you never say that.”

“Well, I’m gonna start now.”

Ford was obviously skeptical.

“What’s with the reminiscing anyway?” Stan deflected. “I thought holidays weren’t your thing.”

“Why would you say that?”

Stan reached for a glass of bourbon he’d been using as a cookie chaser. “I always figured you were too busy jerking off to Popular Mechanics to care about the traditions of us mere mortals.”

Surprisingly, Ford let out a laugh. He reached into the box and pulled out a Kwanzaa kinara, candles iced in three different colors. He let out a soft, impressed-sounding whistle. “Mabel really went all out.”

“I don’t know why you’re surprised. Mabel doesn’t do anything half-assed.” Stan stuffed the rest of Santa into his mouth and made a noise, suddenly remembering that something else had come with the care package of cookies.

“Ford--” He picked up a small bundle of papers and waved them in front of Ford’s face obnoxiously.

“Ah,” Ford muttered, taking the papers and flipping through the handwritten pages quickly. “Dipper’s notes on urban legends along the California coast. Mn...thorough, as expected.”

“Merry Christmas,” Stan said dryly. “Cookies for me, and dry, boring research for you.”

Ford smirked and tucked the letter into his coat pocket. “Cookies for us, and fascinating and useful research for me.”

“Whatever.” Stan grunted, shifting in the chair to get more comfortable. The gentle rocking of the Stan O War, combined with the lump of cookie-bourbon mush now sitting in his gut, was beginning to make his head nod. Ford continued reading his gift from Dipper at the table, the gentle rustling of the papers adding one more soothing aspect to lull him to sleep.

“Stanley. Stanley.”

“Huh? Wha…”

“Stanley,” Ford sighed. “You’re falling asleep. Go to bed.”

Stan blinked in Ford’s direction and hauled himself up slowly in response. He paused, then picked up the cookies and tucked them under his arm, box rattling as he shuffled towards the boat’s sleeping quarters.

He fell asleep with a cookie on his chest, waking only when felt the bed move beside him. Ford was sitting on the edge, snorting in the dim lantern-light at the state of the other man. He reached over and plucked the cookie off of him, Stan groaning in protest.

“Hey, I was saving that for later.”

Ford crunched on it and wiped the crumbs from Stan’s shirt.

“You snooze you lose.”

Sleepily, Stan reached up to grab the remnant from Ford’s hand, but he was quickly and deftly swatted away.

“What’s with the cookie theft?” he grumbled, rolling onto his side.

“I’ve been thinking about what you said earlier. How holidays ‘weren’t my thing’.”

Stan squinted. “And what’s that got to do with waking me up from my drunken stupor?”

Ford finished off the cookie. Stan wondered if he’d gotten into his bourbon as well, as his eyes looked a little glassy. “Maybe...maybe in the past I had been a little too focused inwardly,” he reasoned quietly. “That’s not something I want for myself anymore, Stanley. Not when I have family who goes out of their way to send me gifts for the holidays.”

“Persistent knuckleheads,” Stan yawned. “You’d think being halfway across the world would stop them from tracking down a mailing address.”

“Yes, persistent. And, of course, not when I have someone I can share the holidays with.”

Ah, he must be drunk. “Grammar, Ford,” he snorted, trying to do his best nerd impression. “Ending a sentence with a preposition.”

How many times had he been corrected in the same way? He didn’t even know what a preposition was. But Ford found it funny and they both chuckled for a moment; another pleasant surprise for Stan.

After a moment of comfortable silence Ford leaned in, placing a hand on Stan’s chest to push him onto his back. “Hey now,” Stan murmured, but Ford continued to move closer.

“You have a sprinkle on your lip. It’s distracting,” Ford whispered, but he did more than just wipe it away. His lips touched Stan’s, tongue darting out to lick away the spot of sugar.

Stan moaned automatically in response, heart thumping wildly in his chest as Ford continued to hover his lips over his. How long had he wanted this? He hadn’t realized Ford had felt the same way. “Ford….”

Ford didn’t move an inch closer, but he didn’t pull away either. It was as though he was suddenly too shy to do anything but freeze right there.

“Dammit Ford,” Stan groaned in frustration. He’d finally gotten the balls to kiss him, and now he was just going to sit there? He reached up to grab him by the gray patch in his hair, forcing him to meet his eyes. “Are you gonna keep kissing me, or what?”

That seemed to do it. Ford let out a strangled moan and pressed his lips against Stan’s, pushing his tongue into his mouth. He could taste the bourbon on his tongue, and Stan smiled and greedily deepened the kiss.

Ford fell onto him, limbs tangling in the small bed as they slid their bodies together. The box of cookies tipped over as Stan tried to roll Ford underneath him, but as the other man was a little more on the athletic side all he succeeded in doing was smashing the cookies into the bed. For a while they didn’t notice though, moans filling the room as their hands and mouths roamed over each other.

Stan wasn’t sure when they’d fallen asleep, but he woke a few hours later to the sight of Ford with cookie crumbs stuck to his bare back. He licked his finger and dragged it slowly down his spine, sucking the crumbs off with a smirk.

“Mfnph...Stanley...”

“Go back to sleep, Poindexter.”

He chuckled to himself and curled up behind him, too exhausted to care about the mess.

#stancest #stancest holiday exchange #ficksuck #my dumb fic

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pinesconessecrets · 6 years

Text

Soulmate AU

For @ladynightmare12

“You’re incredibly ugly,”

Dipper had been staring at his arm for about fifteen minutes. He didn’t notice it immediately upon waking up, as he had a habit of scribbling notes and doodles on his arm, but when he did notice it, his heart stopped. He got his words. The first words he would ever hear his soulmate say.

He sat on his unmade bed, his room split evenly between pinboards and science fair trophies, and stuffed animals and macaroni sculptures. As a seventeen year old boy, he wasn’t eager to share a room with his sister, but- of course- he had never known anything else. The morning light shone through the window, one curtain pink and the other a deep green, as it was positioned dead in the center of the room.

His soulmate calling him ugly wasn’t exactly ideal for their first words. In fact, he was dreading his meeting with this person. He couldn’t tell the person’s gender, but honestly that was the least of his worries. The thing at the front of his mind was that his soul mate was astrologically destined to call him ugly in their first conversation.

“Dipper! Hurry up!” he heard his sister cry from downstairs with her mouth full- presumably eating pancakes or something like that. Dipper usually only had time for toast or a banana in the morning. He hurriedly threw on some clothes and a hoodie he never wore- not wanting to show the world his words. He especially didn’t want his sister to see them, she would never live it down. Her words had appeared last year, though nobody had said them yet. “Sorry, I think this is your glitter pen.” It certainly suited her. Every day she dropped her glitter pens on the ground on purpose, but nobody had said the words exactly right. Mabel listened extremely closely, to be safe.

The teenage boy rushed down the stairs and grabbed a pancake from a plate by the stove, eating it with his hands without and syrup or butter.

“How do you eat that? Doesn’t it get stuck in your throat?” Mabel asked, her words on clear display on her inner arm.

“It slides down easier without sticky sugar syrup keeping it stuck in there. Your cholesterol must be off the charts with all of the sugar you eat,” Dipper said sarcastically as he shoved his books in his backpack.

“You’re worried about my health? You eat ramen noodles for every meal,” Mabel teased. Dipper rolled his eyes as he put a Cup ‘o noodles in his backpack next to his books. He did eat an insane amount of ramen, but he did enough running around in the woods to burn off the calories.

“Whatever. Let’s go, if I’m late to Pre-Cal again I’m going to get chewed out,” Dipper said, sliding open the door and exposing himself to the cool morning air. It wasn’t that cold, as he had his hoodie on, but he would much prefer warmth. Cold meant less exploring and adventuring in the woods, though he was sure that his parents wouldn’t actually mind that. He had gotten poison ivy twice, and neither times were fun for anyone.

He walked to the old Montero Sport that he and Mabel shared, though Dipper didn’t have his license yet. He knew how to drive, he just didn’t make enough money to pay for the car insurance. Mabel had a cushy job at Starbucks where she got paid quite a lot for her age, but Dipper could hardly get any hours at his job at Chick-fil-a in the same mall.

He cringed when the radio blasted Carly Rae Jepsen- not because it wasn’t great music- but because it was nearly maximum volume. Mabel had a fun habit of blasting music after work at night and forgetting to turn it back down. Carly Rae was a good way to wake up, but not at that volume.

Mabel turned the radio down and began driving, the album playing much more quietly as they drove along in unnatural silence. Usually on the way to school they had a lot of conversation, but the air between them was still. Mabel eventually spoke up, smirking gently.

“You got your words, didn’t you?” she asked, and Dipper went bright red. She wasn’t supposed to find out. Nobody was supposed to find out. He wanted to die without anyone reading the words on his arm.

“What? No. Of course I did. Didn’t. I didn’t get them yet. Definitely not,” Dipper said, knowing immediately that he had given himself away. When Mabel laughed at him, he was sure that he would have to show his twin the embarrassing text on his arm.

“Let me see it. Come on, I bet it’s sweet. Why are you so embarrassed?” Mabel asked, and Dipper shook his head. “Come on! We’re twins! I showed you mine immediately!

“Yours was nice! Mine is… bad. It’s bad,” Dipper sighed, and Mabel rolled her eyes.

“It can’t be that bad. Show me,” Mabel said, grabbing her brother’s arm and pulling up the sleeve. Dipper was quick to take the wheel with his free hand.

“Your husband has bad handwriting,”

“Husband? What makes you think it’s a guy?”

“Bad handwriting,” Mabel rolled her eyes. “So he calls you ugly. So what? You call me ugly, and I’m clearly flawless, so why are you worried? Maybe you’ll have one of those enemies-to-lovers things? That’d be really fun.” she grinned.

“I’m just, I dunno, I don’t want to have this experience when the person,” He emphasized the word “person” instead of saying the word “boy”. He wouldn’t mind if he was a boy, but it wasn’t set in stone. “Calls me ugly. I don’t want that in my memory forever. Like, if we make it, my kids are going to ask how we met. And I’m going to have to tell them that we met when their mom or dad called their dad ugly.” he sighed.

“Bro, everything is going to be fine! You’re going to get a man soon! Or a girl with bad handwriting,” she shrugged. She gave a sympathetic smile, and took the wheel once again, to Dipper’s relief.

“…Thanks Mabel,” Dipper smiled back at her. He was glad that Mabel was so supportive- though sometimes it was kind of annoying. However, having her involved in his life was useful, since he needed someone besides his parents to lean on.

The two arrived at school, Dipper rushing to get into the building and get to Pre-Cal. It was hardly his favorite class, but it was a hard one, so he wanted to spend as little time away from that class as possible, for his own safety. He sat in his usual place near the front of the room, beside a boy he never really acknowledged. As a young man obsessed with cryptids and monsters and such, he didn’t exactly have a surplus of friends, and so he wasn’t familiar with most of the people even in his grade level. The only times he talked to people were when they were paired with one another for group work.

Dipper looked over and noticed that the normally quiet boy was looking down at a packet of paper and mumbling words to himself that he couldn’t quite hear. Every once in a while the boy would highlight something, and then carry on mumbling. Dipper never really paid attention to this boy before. He wasn’t ugly, he had dark brown hair and identical eyes, and he was wearing a cute yellow sweater. He was about to ask what he was reading, when the teacher in front of him began speaking. Like the good student he always was, he paid attention and took diligent notes that would be easy to study later.

Throughout class, however, he kept noticing the boy beside him not taking notes, and continuing to mumble. Dipper got a little bit annoyed that he couldn’t understand a word he was saying, but he didn’t comment on it. He didn’t want to call this boy out in the middle of class for, what, working? Studying? Memorizing something? Mostly he was just annoyed that he didn’t know what he was saying. He felt compelled, for some reason, to hear his voice. He wanted to know what sort of voice came out of this rather cute, shy boy.

He wrote down a note on a scrap of paper, glancing over at the other boy as he did so. Sorry if this is creepy, what r u reading? -Dipper. He folded it up and was about to pass it over, when he was called on for a question. For the first time in a long time, he had no idea what the answer was. He was working on the note, and not the problem, so he was drawing a blank. “Um…. linear?” Dipper said, knowing full well that the answer was wrong. He cringed at how his voice cracked due to embarrassment.

“Wrong unit, Mr. Pines. Pay attention instead of doodling. Give me that,” The teacher said, and Dipper tried to ignore the class’s giggles as the teacher crumbled up the note and put it in the garbage. Dipper looked over at the boy, worried that he was giggling, but was a bit disturbed by what the boy was doing. He was no longer mumbling and highlighting, but instead he was just. Staring. The quiet nameless boy was looking at Dipper like he had grown a second head- which he hasn’t yet, though he was doing some experiments on lizards. The boy looked away a second too late, after the two had made direct eye contact. Dipper wasn’t so eager to talk to the boy anymore after doing that. Was there something in his teeth? His hair? He checked both, while doing his work, and both seemed fine. What was he staring at?

Dipper continued his work, though he couldn’t shake the feeling that the boy beside him was staring. Every time he looked over, though, the boy wasn’t looking. Eventually he could see him doing his mumbling again, and it brought him a sort of relief. Things were bath the way they were supposed to be- Dipper was taking notes, and mystery boy was mumbling and highlighting. All was right in the world.

As class came to a close, Dipper felt a feeling creeping up on him. It wasn’t a good feeling, not really. It wasn’t quite sadness, it was more like… Disappointment. Like he had been expecting something to happen that even he had no idea what it was. Probably that he hadn’t finished all of his homework in class, Dipper figured, silently and to himself. He put all of his books into his bag as he heard the bell ring, before looking over at the mystery boy. He was slinging his baby pink backpack over his shoulder, pocketing his highlighter, but still reading over the packet of words. There were quite a few pages, and Dipper was very interested to see what exactly was so riveting that he would do it instead of calculus. Though, most things were more riveting than calculus.

However, he didn’t want to embarrass himself yet again and attempt to talk to this boy. After all, evidently, he had a soul mate waiting for him, somewhere out there, biding their time before they would meet and call him ugly. Mystery boys weren’t really worth his time- though Dipper did appreciate a good mystery. Maybe at another time.

He walked out of the classroom to the hallway, knowing and not acknowledging that mystery boy was standing directly behind him, still mumbling. Dipper could hardly hear him at all what with the noise of hundreds of teenagers all talking at once, like a riptide of bodies and gossip. High school was truly a uniquely terrifying place.

He took a few steps out into the hallway before something made him stop dead in his tracks. Time seemed to slow down, and he took a few moments to process what he had heard. He could hardly believe it was true, it was so soon, barely anyone heard their words spoken on the same day they arrived. Some died before hearing them. Dipper, however, heard them directly from a voice behind him.

“You’re incredibly ugly,” The mystery boy said from behind Dipper, still looking down at his paper with furrowed brows. Dipper stopped walking and turned, though that immediately resulted in him being pushed by the riptide, hitting his head on the doorframe of his calculus classroom.

“Oh my god, are you okay? That sounded really bad, do you have a bump?” These were the second words he ever heard his soul mate say, and he had to admit he was grateful that they were nice words. He was actually concerned about him.

“You… you think I’m ugly?” Dipper asked, his head pounding a bit. The taller boy looked confused, which was a very cute look on him.

“I… what? Oh! No!” he said quickly, looking down at his paper in his hand. “It’s, um, a script. I’m an actor, um, I just got cast in the one-act. I’m working on getting off book.” he explained, his voice slowly becoming more audible as people cleared out of the hallway. “I’m Wirt, by the way. And you’re… Dipper? I think? You don’t talk in class, so, um, I’m guessing here.” Dipper thought he was incredibly pretty.

“Yeah, Dopper. Um, Dipper. That’s me,” Dipper smiled awkwardly. “I don’t want to, um, alarm you, but…” he said, rolling up the sleeve on his hoodie. Wirt blushed a bit, but nodded in understanding, rolling up his as well. Among numerous doodles were the words, “Um… Linear?”

“I got mine two years ago. What about you?” Wirt asked with a smile.

“Today, actually. You can imagine how I felt when I learned my, um, soul mate would call me ugly when we first met,” Dipper chuckled awkwardly. Wirt laughed.

“I didn’t actually know I was gay until today. I mean, I had my suspicions, but I guess it’s set in stone now. Well… set in skin,” both boys laughed. The conversation would have gone on for longer, but the bell rang, and the both of them realized that they were late to class.

“Oh, wow, okay. Can I get your phone number? I’d like to get to know you better,” Wirt asked, and Dipper happily nodded, taking a sharpie out of his pocket. He embarrassedly took his hand and wrote down his phone number on his arm, before pocketing the sharpie.

“I’ll see you later, then, Dipper Pines,” Wirt gave a dorky smile before walking away. Dipper was still for a few moments, before giggling quietly, and walking to his next class. Mabel was not going to believe who her brother just met.

#pinescone #pinescone secret Santa #Wirt #Dipper Pines #submission

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returntothefalls · 7 years

Text

Growing Pains

Return to the Falls, a Gravity Falls fanfiction

Dipper and Mabel return to Gravity Falls for another summer with all their old friends. But of course, nothing is ever normal for long at the Mystery Shack, and soon Dipper is forced to realize his greatest fears.

(Chapter 2 of “Return to the Falls”, a Gravity Falls fanfiction. The up-to-date entirety can be found here.)

The relative peace of the hazy afternoon was disturbed by the piercing screech of brakes as the Speedy Beaver bus rolled up to its stop. The doors opened with a hiss, releasing a burst of chilly air into the sweltering atmosphere of the woods. A single gnome poked its head over a stump to watch as the bus deposited its sole passengers: one boy, one girl, and one pig.

The boy tipped his trapper hat to the driver as he passed. “Thanks for the ride, Dale!”

“And thank you for cleaning up the pig vomit.”

The driver’s tired sarcasm was lost on the girl, who squatted down to rub the expectant pig’s stomach. “Waddles gets bus-sick,” she said, giving the pig a quick kiss on the snout.

“Don’t feed him so much corn at the rest stop next time,” Dipper said, even as Mabel took another ear from her sweater pocket and stuffed it into Waddles’s open mouth.

Mabel hopped off the final step, dropped her suitcase, and pumped both fists in the air. “Hello, Gravity Falls!” she screamed, sending a flock of birds scattering from the treetops. She spun in quick circles, beaming as wide as her cheeks could stretch, but her smile faded as she realized the clearing around the bus stop was empty. “Gotta be honest, I was expecting more of a turnout,” she said as Dipper and Waddles stepped down onto the grass beside her. The gnome waved from atop his stump and was promptly snatched up by a hawk.

“It is weird, I thought someone would be here,” Dipper said, giving a last wave to Dale as the bus doors closed. “Guess I’d better lower my expectations before I get a big head.”

“Too late,” Mabel said, snickering.

“Mabel, our heads are literally the same size.”

The bus roared to life and pulled away from the stop, drowning out their voices and masking the sound of approaching footsteps. A pair of strong arms wrapped around the twins from behind and lifted them off their feet. The instigator of the embrace was a large man, wearing a black suit, an eyepatch, and a familiar maroon fez. Only one person in the world could possibly deliver a bear hug so enveloping in its warmth.

“Soos!” the twins exclaimed.

“’Sup, dudes!” Soos said, placing the children back on the ground. “I just had to be here to meet you, I couldn’t wait any longer!”

“We’re glad to see you too, Soos,” Dipper said.

Mabel surveyed Soos with a scrutinizing eye. “I’m digging the ensemble, Soos!” she said. “The Mr. Mystery look really suits you.” She poked Soos’s stomach and he giggled.

“Thank you, Mabel! And I love your sweater,” Soos said, pointing to Mabel’s shirt. The purple sweater bore a picture of a goldfish with a sword strapped to its forehead. “It’s, like, a sword fish.” He paused. “Whoa dude, that’s, like, a pun.” Mabel tried to high-five him, but his hand missed hers entirely. “Sorry dude,” Soos said, flipping up his eyepatch and blinking several times as he adjusted to the light. “I’ve got like no depth perception with this thing.”

“So how have you been, Soos?” Dipper asked. “Is running the Mystery Shack everything you dreamed it would be?”

Soos took off his fez for a moment to fan himself. “It’s all that and more,” he said. “I really feel like I’m makin’ some magic for people, y’know?” A slight flush came to his cheeks, though it might have just been the heat of the day. “I think Mr. Pines would be proud of me.”

Mabel squeezed his hand. “I know he will be,” she said. “So where is Grunkle Stan? Got a hot date? I bet she’s beautiful.”

“Sorry, the Mr. Pineses aren’t back yet,” Soos said. "They ran into some trouble with a canal or a canary or somethin’ like that.” Dipper and Mabel’s faces fell, but Soos patted both twins on the back. “Don’t worry ‘bout it, dudes! They’ll be here real soon. For now, Melody and Wendy are waitin’ back at the Shack and they really wanna see you.”

Dipper perked up at the mention of Wendy’s name. “Well, no use standing around here all day. Let’s get going!” He pulled a small glass bottle out of his pocket and gave a few quick spritzes to his already-sweaty armpits and neck.

“Oh no, not the cologne again,” Mabel said, pinching her nose. “Dipper, we talked about this. That stuff smells like expired milk and motor oil.”

“Sorry, Mabel, but I’m maturing,” Dipper said. “And that means smelling mature, like all those buff guys in the Hatchet Body Spray commercials.” He pointed to the label on the bottle. “This is the Mega Manly Musk. Guaranteed to attract the attention of every lady that catches a whiff.”

Mabel squinted at the fine print on the label. “And moose. Do not use during mating season.”

“Whatever,” Dipper said. “You just don’t know what a real man smells like.” A passing bird dropped unconscious at his feet.

Mabel rolled her eyes. “Please don’t tell me you’re doing all this for Wendy.”

“Hey, I’m over that silly crush,“ Dipper said. “Wendy is one of my best friends! We’ve been texting for months about out all the fun stuff we’d do this summer.” He puffed out his chest. “I’m a teenager now, I can really fit in with her friends.”

“I didn’t know Wendy’s friends were all giant stinky nerds,” Mabel said, giggling. “But nah, I’m just teasin’, broski. I can’t wait to see my besties too!“

“Then let’s roll out, dudes!” Soos said. He turned and started walking toward the edge of the forest. “Just one stop first, I gotta do my business in the woods.”

Mabel glanced at Dipper in concern. “Does he mean…?”

“It’s Soos,” Dipper said. “He really might.”

The twins followed on Soos’s heels, eager to see what “business” he had in store. Mabel launched into a detailed account of her and Dipper’s grand adventures in school, starting with her rise and fall as the mighty Painted Empress of the art club. Soos listened with rapt attention, nodding along as Mabel gesticulated wildly, nearly smacking her companions with her suitcase. Waddles plodded along at a safe distance behind her, wandering off the path every few yards to sniff at a mushroom, occasionally sending an unseen critter dashing away through the underbrush.

Dipper leaned back and stared up at the emerald canopy of leaves and needles, filtered through with specks of dazzling sunlight and the bluest sky he could imagine. A woodpecker peered down at him from a low-hanging branch, tilting its head inquisitively before turning to peck at the bark. This was summer, he thought, inhaling deeply from the fresh warm air, feeling his lungs swell with the crisp sweetness of the woods. Of course, he would always think of his parents’ house in Piedmont as his home. But here among the towering ruddy pines and gangly silver birches, he knew he was right where he was meant to be. The scent of mystery and intrigue - or maybe it was just tree sap - was heavy on the breeze, carrying with it the promise of three more unforgettable months in the Weirdness Capital of the World.

“And so my reign was cut tragically short by the Great Acrylic Rebellion,” Mabel said, dramatically throwing her arms over her head. “And I learned that it is better to be loved than feared. Though Candy tells me that both is preferable.”

Soos slowed his pace as Mabel finished her story. “Sounds to me like you were a wise and just leader,” he said. He paused, examining the surrounding area until his eyes lit up with recognition. “This way, dudes,” he said, leading the twins through a short patch of undergrowth. Waddles disappeared into the mass of green, but Dipper could still hear his quiet snorts and snuffles.

A clearing opened up ahead of them, a circle of bright green grass in the midst of the uneven scattering of trees. Dipper froze. Nine months ago, he had stood here. Images flashed through his mind: Stan kneeling on the ground with a blank expression on his face, hysterical tears flowing down Mabel’s cheeks, Ford embracing his unresponsive brother. Dipper felt his heart beating faster and he wordlessly took Mabel’s hand in his own.

And across the clearing, in the shade of the pines, was Bill Cipher.

This was no memory, no vision, no mere specter. The dream demon himself sat twenty feet away, his wide unblinking eye staring back at Dipper. Here was the monster that had stricken terror into the hearts of billions across the multiverse, the harbinger of chaos that had “liberated” his home dimension with fire and brimstone. He’d laid waste to Gravity Falls, petrified the townspeople, tortured Ford, threatened Mabel. He had nearly killed Mabel.

Of course, Dipper knew that Bill was dead. Stan and Ford had made sure of that. This was only the demon’s physical body, a cold hunk of stone half-embedded in the ground, now overgrown with a few thin vines. The essence of Bill was long gone, nothing but dust on the winds of the dreamscape. But the sight of the statue was wrong, this whole place was wrong.

Dipper fought to keep his voice level. “Soos, what are we doing here?”

Soos crossed the clearing to the statue, with Mabel following a few tentative steps behind. “Just here to spruce up the exhibit,” Soos said, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a spritzer bottle filled with green liquid. “Mr. Pines had the great idea to make Bill an official Mystery Shack exhibit. Figured as long as he was here, we might as well make some money off of him.”

“That does sound like Stan,” Dipper said, rolling his eyes.

“So I started running the ‘Meet Mr. Triangle Man Mystery Tour,’” Soos said. “People pay ten dollars to come out here and see him. And then another fifteen to shake his hand. And an extra twenty-five for a souvenir photo.” He patted the top of Bill’s hat. “So I’ve been coming out here to spray the weeds and vines that grow on him. Gotta keep him looking presentable.”

“It is a good use for the isosceles jerk,” Mabel said.

Dipper glanced between Soos and Mabel in disbelief. “Does no one here see a problem with standing around the body of the trillion year old monster that nearly destroyed our dimension? Let alone bringing naive tourists straight to it? This is Bill we’re talking about, who knows what kind of backup plans or booby traps he might have left for us.” His breaths came shorter and faster, uncontrolled.

Soos looked to Mabel for a moment, but she simply shrugged. He kneeled down in front of Dipper. “It’s okay, dude,” he said softly. “I know you’re worried, and like, you’ve got reason to be. Ford was against this too, but he did some sciencey tests and he says that Bill is gone for good. He wouldn’t let us do this if it wasn’t safe.”

Dipper took a few deep breaths, closing his eyes as he steadied himself. He knew that Ford would never have approved if he thought there was any danger at all. But Ford had been fooled by Bill before, and so had Mabel, and Dipper himself, and countless others. Was being rid of the demon really this simple? In the months since Bill’s defeat, Dipper had kept himself from thinking about the demon too much, but now he wondered just how permanent their solution had been. After all, Stan’s memories had resurfaced over time. Was it unreasonable to believe that Bill might as well?

With one more slow exhalation, he opened his eyes and nodded solemnly at Soos. “Okay. I believe you guys.” He looked the statue up and down, reminded of the occasional little triangles he’d found himself doodling on the edges of his notebook in class. “I’m just glad to know that Bill’s doing more good for our family now than he ever did in life.”

“You can say that again,” Soos said, giving a few final squirts of weed killer to the vines on the statue. “If he keeps bringing in money at this rate, I might finally be able to afford my dream body.” He pulled a picture out of his pocket and held it down to Dipper and Mabel. It was an image of a tiger with flaming wings drawn on its back in marker. A photo cutout of Soos’s smiling face was pasted over its head. “Anyways, let’s go,” he said, putting both the photo and the spray bottle back in his pocket. “We’ve got a lotta fun stuff to do back at the Shack!” He hoisted Mabel up onto his shoulders and she cheered aloud, with Waddles oinking in response behind them. He led the way toward a trail on the other side of the clearing, marked with a wooden sign which read “Pay Your Bill Bill at the Mystery Shack” in streaked red paint.

Dipper hesitated and looked back at the statue, feeling a cold bead of sweat run down the back of his neck as he stared into the stone eye. He stumbled and fell forward, landing on his face in the grass. Groaning, he stood up and brushed away the curling green tendril that had somehow snagged his ankle. The long vine seemed to be stretching out from the statue itself, all the way across the clearing. Dipper shuddered and turned away. He’d had enough nightmare fuel for one day.

After a short walk through the woods, a familiar structure appeared beyond the trees. It was a homely hodgepodge of a cabin, probably more duct tape than wood at this point. A hook-beaked totem pole stood before it, a resolute watcher of the house. The rickety weathervane, bearing the letters W-H-A-T, creaked and spun in the wind. And atop the roof, a giant sign declared the name of the wondrous attraction for all to see. This was an icon, the crown jewel of tourist traps. Of all the hokey huts and supernatural sideshows in the Pacific Northwest, none could measure up to the rustic royalty of the Mystery Shack.

Dipper was impressed to realize that the “S” in the “Shack” sign was actually still attached; it had spent most of the last summer discarded in the dirt, having been repeatedly knocked down in various incidents. “Looks like you’ve been taking good care of the old place, Soos,” he said.

“You know it,” Soos said. “Keeping this place mostly functional takes a lot of work, but it’s nothin’ a handyman like me can’t take care of.” He broke into a wide smile as the front door swung open and a woman in a brown hat and question mark t-shirt stepped outside. “Of course, I’ve had plenty of help.”

“Nice to see you again!” Melody said, coming down the steps to greet the twins. “It sure has been a long time, hasn’t it? Soos hasn’t been able to quit talking about you for months now, we were all so excited for you to get here.”

“And we’re excited to be here!” Mabel said. “Melody, you’re really rockin’ the Soos look, I love it.”

Melody glanced down at her shirt. “What, this? It’s just my Mystery Shack uniform. Soos made it official right after he took over.”

Dipper raised an eyebrow at Soos, who merely shrugged. “Mr. Pines said he’d get confused if he walked into the gift shop and didn’t see someone wearing that shirt. Shack tradition, he called it. But we still can’t get Wendy to wear one.”

“You can have my flannel when you pry it from my cold, dead hands.”

A shadow passed overhead as a slim figure leapt from the roof of the Shack, grabbing onto a neighboring pine and sliding down the trunk, disappearing behind the gift shop entrance. A second later, a red-haired girl in a green flannel shirt rounded the building, tipping her baseball cap to the twins as she approached. “If you’re expecting a bellhop, sorry, but you’ll have to take your bags upstairs yourself.”

“Hi Wendy!” Mabel said, jumping excitedly around the older girl. “You’ve got to fill me in on everything juicy that’s happened since we left, now that we can gossip together as teenagers. It’s gotta be so much more interesting than middle school gossip, right?”

Wendy smirked. “I’ll tell you all that I know later, but I’m sure it’s nowhere near as interesting as whatever you’ve got going on back in California.” She turned to Dipper, who was wringing his hands and smiling awkwardly up at her. Without warning, she snatched the trapper hat off his head and gave his hair a quick ruffle before slamming her pine tree-emblazoned cap down in its place. “Here you go, I kept it nice and warm for you,” she said, adjusting the trapper hat back onto her own head and giving Dipper a wide grin. “Good to have you back, Dip. It’s been pretty boring around here without you.”

“Piedmont was pretty dull without you too,” Dipper said. “I tried making some new friends, but most kids don’t seem to share my taste in the paranormal.” He sighed. “One girl gets possessed by a cursed amulet in gym class and suddenly no one wants to hang out with you.”

“Well that won’t be a problem anymore,” Wendy said. “You’re in our town now, and we’re gonna have more fun than you know how to handle.” She sniffed the air and her nose wrinkled. “Maybe take a shower first, though. You smell like death.” Dipper blushed and Mabel snickered.

“First things first, dudes,” Soos said. “I need a little help around back. Can you give me a hand?” He rounded the corner past the gift shop entrance with Melody on his heels. Dipper glanced at Wendy in confusion, but she simply shrugged and followed Soos. The twins stepped around the corner, their curiosity piqued.

A chorus of cheers rang out and bursts of confetti filled the air. Dipper nearly jumped out of his skin, tumbling backwards over his suitcase. Everyone in town had gathered in the yard behind the Shack. Mayor Tyler sat on Manly Dan’s shoulders, both of them whooping and hollering. There was Lazy Susan, waving wildly, oblivious to the fact that she was spilling drops of scalding coffee from her mug onto Shandra Jimenez and Bud Gleeful. Sheriff Blubs and Deputy Durland ran through the crowd, waving flags and blowing noisemakers. Soos’s grandmother sat on the porch, watching the others with a small smile on her wrinkled face. Gompers bleated a greeting to Waddles, who snorted in response. Even Toby Determined was there, clad in a sparkling red onesie and dancing with a cane.

“Sorry for the scare, dudes,” Soos said. “But we all thought a surprise party would be the best way to welcome you back!”

Mabel let out a shrill squeal and hopped up and down. “I can’t believe you’re all here!” A small figure leapt from the crowd and tackled Mabel, tumbling into a heap of limbs on the ground. A moment later, both were lifted up by a pair of burly arms, drawing them into a tight embrace. “Candy! Grenda!” All three girls spun in a circle, laughing and hugging until Grenda released the others, setting them back on their feet. “It’s so great to see you guys!” Mabel said, her whole body practically vibrating with excitement.

“We were going to meet you at the bus stop, but Soos asked us to wait,” Candy said. She held up a shredded coil of rope. “Grenda is hard to hold back.”

“I don’t have time for patience!” Grenda said. “It’s been too long since these Grenda arms gave a Grenda hug!”

“Well hang on tight,” Mabel said. “I think I feel another Mabel hug coming on!”

“The Candy hug has to recharge,” Candy said. “It is too powerful.”

Meanwhile, Dipper found himself surrounded by teenagers – fellow teenagers, he thought with a smile. “Dr. Funtimes is back in town!” Nate said, cheering as Lee hoisted Dipper up onto his shoulders. Thompson stumbled after them, trying to carry enough cups of punch for everyone. After laughing for a moment at Thompson’s frantic attempts to stay upright, Lee put Dipper back down and moved to help.

Robbie, who had been standing to the side with Tambry, feigning disinterest, finally spoke. “Hey, dork. Guess you’re gonna be hanging out with us again this summer.”

Dipper scowled. “Nice to see you too.”

Tambry glanced up from her phone. “Robbie’s been talking about you kids a lot since that whole Weirdmageddon thing. He feels special that he got to be part of the big prophecy.”

“Tambry, don’t tell him that!” Robbie said. He turned to glare at Dipper. “Look, I’m only here because Wendy and the others dragged me here. It’s not like I like you or anything, i-idiot.” He pulled his hood up over his head and slunk away, muttering under his breath while Tambry held his hand.

“What a dweeb.” A familiar girl with probably-fake-blonde hair strutted up to the twins. “Maybe I don’t wear my heart on my sleeve, but at least I’ll admit I like you.”

“Hi Pacifica!” Mabel said, pulling away from Candy and Grenda for a moment to give her a quick hug. Pacifica half-recoiled, but she fought off the instinctive reaction and reciprocated the embrace.

“I’m a little surprised to see you here,” Dipper said. “I thought the Shack was too rural for your taste.”

Pacifica shrugged. “I’ve gotten used to living around the blue collar folk. Though my parents are still struggling a bit.” On the other side of the yard, Preston and Priscilla Northwest watched with undisguised horror as the Woodpecker Guy attempted to settle a dispute between his wife and a rival blue jay.

Dipper laughed. “Seems like upper-middle class life is doing your family some good.”

“Hey, we’re lower-upper class,” Pacifica said. “We still have our dignity. And a servant who puts all our mail in that metal box outside the house.”

“That’s the mailman,” Dipper said. “He does that for everyone.”

Pacifica frowned. “So, what, are we supposed to tip him?”

Mabel opened her mouth to speak but Dipper interrupted her. “Five bucks a day ought to keep him happy,” he said. “Maybe a little higher if you want to be nice.”

Pacifica scoffed. “Please. People should be paying me to be nice.”

“Pard��n me, Pacifica, if ya could allow me a quick word with the twins.”

The voice appeared to be coming from a puffy marshmallow in a blue suit. “Heyyy Gideon,” Mabel said, flashing her braces in a too-wide smile. For once in her life, she did not seem eager to offer a hug.

“Dear Mabel, yer as beautiful as the day we last met,” Gideon said, giving a short bow that threatened to absorb Mabel into his hair. “I’ve been countin’ the days til I could see you again.” Dipper cleared his throat loudly and Gideon looked up, startled. “And ’f course I’ve missed you just ’s much, Dipper! Might I say yer also lookin’ rather dashin’ today?”

“I think we’d all be more comfortable if you didn’t,” Dipper said.

“So how have you been, Gideon?” Mabel asked.

“Pretty dang good!” Gideon said. “Folks weren’t so trustin’ ’f me at first, what with the whole ‘fake psychic’ thing, but these rubes – I mean, nice people – found it in the kindness o’ their hearts t’ forgive widdle ole me. So now I’ve reopened the Tent ‘f Telepathy and I perform my songs and dances every day.” He winked. “Season tickets are on sale now, I could give you two a hefty discount.”

“Oh gee, sorry,” Dipper said, his smile wavering. “We couldn’t possibly take advantage of your … uh, generosity.”

“That’s enough yammerin’, kids!”

Dipper jumped in surprise at the sudden appearance of a shrunken, bearded man behind him. He didn’t think he’d ever been happier to see Fiddleford Hadron McGucket. The old man winked, fully aware that he’d swooped in just in time to deflect Gideon’s attention. “We’ve got all summer to catch up!” he said, tapping his feet rhythmically. “Let’s kick this hootenanny into high gear!” He pulled a remote out of his suspenders and pressed a large red button. With a loud clanging of metal, a hatch opened in the roof of the Shack and a rickety tower of speakers and strobe lights rose up, blaring pop music and bathing the yard in swirls of bright color. The crowd roared and surged together into a dancing mob.

“Shindig in the United States, by Mona Arizona!” Mabel said. “My favorite party rock anthem!” She grabbed Dipper by the wrist and dragged him into the throng of townspeople. “Come on, Dip, dance with me!”

Dipper held back. “I don’t think so, Mabel. You know I’m not much of a dancer.”

“Oh come on, you big baby,” Pacifica said, snatching Dipper’s other hand and helping Mabel pull him forward. “If I can do it, so can you.”

“Yeah!” Grenda shouted, giving Dipper an extra shove from behind. “Embrace your inner party animal!”

Dipper held up his hands in resignation. “Alright, alright. But if any of you laugh at me, I’m locking myself in my room for the next three months.”

The party raged until long after sunset. It was midnight by the time Dipper and Mabel had unpacked and settled into their beds in the attic. In no time at all, the musty old room was restored to its former cluttered state, covered in books and clothes and stuffed animals. Mabel hopped excitedly on her bed while Dipper pinned up the last of his “supernatural investigation reports” on the bulletin board, this one detailing a recent sighting of what he suspected to be a fearsome wererabbit. Exhaling with relief, he sat down on the edge of his bed, wiping the sweat from his brow. Mabel flopped down on her back on her own bed, sighing contentedly.

“Sure is nice to be back, huh?” she said.

Dipper nodded. “It feels like we never left.”

Mabel rolled over to face him. “Too bad Grunkle Stan and Ford couldn’t make it. They’d have loved the party.”

Dipper tried to imagine Ford dancing to the greatest pop hits of the 2010s. “I’m sure they’re having plenty of fun on their own.” He slumped backwards onto his pillow and stared up at the ceiling.

“What’cha thinkin’ about, Bro-Bro?” Mabel asked.

“I dunno,” Dipper said. “Just … wondering how this summer is gonna turn out. Last year certainly went differently than I expected. In all of the best and worst ways.” He put a hand on his chest. “I don’t know if my heart can take that much stress again.”

Mabel waved a hand dismissively. “Aww, don’t worry about it. Bill’s gone, Stan and Ford have made up, and Gideon has turned over a new leaf … I think. There’s no one left to bother us but all the kooky monsters in the woods, and we know how to handle them.”

Dipper took a deep breath. “Yeah, I guess you’re right.”

“Of course I’m right!” Mabel said. “I’m Mabel!”

Dipper rolled his eyes. “Well, I’m pretty tired. Today was a long day.”

“A good day!” Mabel said.

“A good day,” Dipper conceded. “And tomorrow is gonna be even better.”

“That’s the spirit!” Mabel said. She clapped her hands and Waddles plodded into the room, hopping up and nosing the switch on the wall to turn off the lights before curling up at the foot of Mabel’s bed. Mabel blew a kiss in his direction. “Good pig!”

A small smile crossed Dipper’s face as he pulled up the blankets. It was the little moments like this that reminded him just how lucky he was. “Goodnight, Mabel.”

“Goodnight, Dipper!”

Dipper laid back and closed his eyes, enveloped in the comforting sound of the breeze and bugs outside the window. It took only a few seconds for the natural lullaby of the woods to lull him to sleep.

*****

“Dipper!”

Mabel. That was Mabel’s voice. He spun around, but there was nothing but whiteness in every direction.

“Dipper, help!”

An enormous shadow loomed up from the whiteness, two long lines growing up to a sharp angle at the peak.

“Please, Dipper!”

Dipper spun around. Bill towered over him, larger than life. Mabel was clutched in one giant fist, struggling to escape.

“Well well well, look who’s here!” Bill said, his voice booming in the infinite expanse around him. “Sorry, Pine Tree, but you’re too late! I’ve already got what I came for!”

“Let her go now!” Dipper growled, clenching his fists. “We beat you before, we can do it again!”

Bill laughed, the cacophonous sound ringing out from every direction at once. “Go ahead and try, kid. But right now, I’m the one holding all the chips!” He lifted Mabel high over his head, his grip tightening around her. She screamed again.

“Don’t do it, please!” Dipper said, tears brimming in his eyes. “I’ll do anything, just let her go!”

“No deals this time!” Bill said. “I’m playing for keeps!” His eye narrowed in his version of a smile. “Now it’s time for this Shooting Star to fall!” He held up his free hand. “So make a wish!”

Then he snapped his fingers and the world erupted into flames.

*****

Dipper’s eyes were still heavy with sleep when he made his way downstairs for breakfast. Though rattled by his nightmare, he had managed to get a few hours of mercifully dreamless rest. Mabel, Soos, and Abuelita were already eating when he stepped into the kitchen.

“Mornin’, dude!” Soos said. “We saved some Sooscakes for you!” He heaped a stack of pancakes onto an empty plate and pushed it across the table toward Dipper. “Stan taught me how to make 'em. I think they’re pretty good.”

Dipper sat down and took a bite, chewing unenthusiastically. Mabel eyed him with concern. “Geez, Dipper, you look awful. Was there another bat in your bed this morning?”

Dipper groaned and rubbed at his eyes. “No, just a bad dream. Nothing to worry about.”

“Don’t sweat it, bro,” Mabel said. “You can hang with me and Candy and Grenda today while we wait for Stan and Ford to get back. We’ll have so much fun you forget all about that lousy nightmare!”

Dipper gave a faint smile. “That actually sounds nice.”

“You just have to promise not to use any more of that cologne,” Mabel said. “Seriously, Soos could use that stuff to kill the weeds.”

“Come on, Mabel, I’m not even wearing it!”

“But you’ve got it in your pocket. I think it’s starting to melt through the bottle.”

Abuelita breathed in deeply. “My sense of smell, it has returned!” she said. Her nose wrinkled up. “And I wish it had not.”

Dipper crossed his arms sulkily. “Fine, but I still think you guys are exaggerating.”

Soos chuckled. “Wouldn’t it be funny if you said that and then the smoke alarm went off because the smell was so bad?” He paused for a moment, as if waiting for the sound to ring out. “Oh yeah, Mr. Pines sold all the smoke alarms years ago.”

Mabel quickly scarfed down the last of her pancakes and jumped up from her chair. “Alright, let’s get rolling! We have a full day of goofing off ahead of us!” She tapped her foot impatiently as Dipper finished eating. “And of course, there’s a good chance that our peaceful sunny afternoon will turn into some crazy mystery adventure,” she added.

Dipper swallowed his final bite and grinned. “I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

“You dudes have fun!” Soos said. “I’ll hold the Shack together while you’re gone.” The lamp string on the ceiling suddenly snapped and the bare bulb fell, shattering in the middle of the table. Soos gave a thumbs up. “I’ll get right on that.”

*****

“And then Pacifica punched him right in the mouth! That was the last time anyone said that her roots were looking a little brown.”

“Some say his tooth stuck in her knuckle and she had it set into a ring. That is what I would have done.”

“Dang, go Pacifica! I can’t believe I missed so much!”

Dipper reclined against a tree and smiled as Mabel, Candy, and Grenda continued their banter. Weird as it might be, he found it comforting to listen to their mindless chatter again. Their voices were as much a part of the Gravity Falls ambiance as the natural sounds of the forest.

He reached into his inner vest pocket and pulled out a thick hardcover book. The cover was marked with a pine tree symbol, perfectly matching the one on his hat. He flipped through the first few pages, which consisted of some rough sketches and sparse notes on various oddities that he’d encountered or researched in California. Finally, he settled on the next blank page and began to write.

After what felt like the longest school year of my life, I am back in Gravity Falls. When I first arrived last summer, I dreaded the sleepy town that awaited me. Now I’m back, and there’s nowhere else I’d rather be. The people may be a bit backwards, but they’ve become as good as family to me. And the mysteries – so many mysteries! There’s always something new for me to investigate. Maybe I’ve taken care of all the big secrets already, but I’m okay with that. Exciting as it may have been, I’d really rather not go through another Weirdmageddon. So I’m looking forward to three months of creature hunting and code cracking with all of my favorite people! Sometimes I get the feeling there’s still something huge hiding here, but whatever that might be, I know I’m ready to handle it. After all, I’m a Pines. I’ve got the best backup an adventurer could ever ask for: a family I can trust.

“I hate to be a critic, but you do realize what a cheesefest this is, right?”

Dipper yelped in surprise and fell forward, dropping his journal in the grass at his feet. A brown-bearded gnome leaned against the tree trunk, flashing his most dazzling smile. Dipper stood up, fists clenched at his sides as the girls walked over to see what was happening. “What are you doing here, Jeff?” he asked.

“Whoa whoa, I’m sensing some hostility,” Jeff said, holding his hands up defensively. “You don’t have to worry, we’ve moved on from that whole queen thing.” He glanced sideways at Grenda and his eyes widened. “But please, can someone introduce me to this bulky beauty?”

“Sorry, she’s taken,” Mabel said.

“I’m engaged to be engaged!” Grenda said.

Jeff’s face fell. “Man, a gnome can’t catch a break around here.” He straightened up. “Sorry, that’s not why I’m here. I need your help.”

Dipper narrowed his eyes. “I don’t know, you asked us for help last summer and that ended with you turning into a dark giant and trying to kill us.”

“Hehe, yeah, that Gemulet ordeal was a bit of a nasty mix-up,” Jeff said. “But I’m serious this time. Gnomes have been going missing and we can’t find out why.”

“You guys are the smallest creatures in a forest full of supernatural beasts,” Dipper said. “The answer seems pretty obvious.”

“It is true, we gnomes have many natural predators,” Jeff said. “Wolves, bears, mountain lions, large birds, small birds, protein-deficient bunnies – regardless, more gnomes have been vanishing than normal. This isn’t just the circle of life at work.” He swallowed a lump in his throat. “Shmebulock disappeared this morning.” He wiped a tear away. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m okay.”

Mabel frowned. “Dipper, this sounds legit.”

Dipper shrugged. “Maybe it is, maybe it isn’t.” He turned to Jeff. “We’ll keep an eye out for anything suspicious, but I’m not making any promises.”

“I would’ve appreciated a more enthusiastic response,” Jeff said. “But this is good enough for me.” He raised his hand in a finger gun motion at Grenda. “And if you ever decide to ditch your fella and marry a real colony of magical creatures, you know where to find us.” With one last wink, he jumped back into the bushes and disappeared into the woods.

“Well that was weird,” Mabel said.

“That’s Gravity Falls for you,” Dipper said. “Never a dull moment.” He looked down at his journal, which lay open on the first page. A thin green vine from the grass rested on the paper as if it had grown there, its tip pointing to a small pencil doodle of Bill Cipher. Dipper brushed it aside and closed the book.

“So are we going on a gnome hunt?” Mabel asked.

“Just like Easter,” Candy said. “With little bearded eggs.”

Dipper shook his head. “Not just yet. I’ve got something I want to look into first.”

“Hey dudes!” Soos waved to the group as he walked past. He was holding the spritzer bottle of weed killer. “I’m just goin’ out to spray the statue again.”

“Perfect timing,” Dipper said. “I can take care of that for you, Soos. I’m heading out in the woods anyway.”

Soos frowned. “You sure? You seemed pretty freaked out about Bill yesterday.”

“I’m fine now,” Dipper said. “It’s the least I can do for you.”

“Whatever, dude,” Soos said, shrugging and handing the bottle to Dipper.

Mabel raised an eyebrow. “Dipper, what are you up to?”

“I’m just doing a favor for Soos,” Dipper said. He paused. “And doing a bit of investigating of my own.”

“Well then count us in!” Mabel said.

“Yeah, we’re always ready to party!” Grenda said.

But Dipper waved them off. “This is the first day you guys have gotten to spend together since last summer, I don’t want to interrupt your fun already. And if Jeff comes back, you guys can be here to talk to him, or punt him into a tree, or whatever you want to do.”

Mabel nodded slowly. “Okay, just promise you won’t get in over your head, okay?”

“I promise,” Dipper said. He smiled. “You can trust me.”

“I do.”

*****

A cool breeze whispered through Dipper’s hair, a stark contrast to the hot air of the forest. The orange light of the afternoon sun enveloped the woods in a drowsy haze. Wendy trudged along behind him, twirling her trusty axe like a baton.

“You sure didn’t waste any time getting down to business,” she said. “Second day of the summer and you’re already back in the mystery-solving saddle.”

“I do want to figure out what’s happening to the gnomes,” Dipper said. “But that’s not the main reason I’m out here.”

Wendy’s expression didn’t change. “You’ve been thinking about Bill again.”

“I never did in Piedmont,” Dipper said with a sigh. “At least not beyond remembering everything that happened. But now that I saw him again, right here in the woods…” He shuddered. “It’s like he’s back inside my head.”

“And you haven’t talked to Mabel about this?”

“She’d just worry about me. This is my problem, not hers.”

Wendy raised an eyebrow. “So why’d you ask me to come?”

“Because you’ll let me do this,” Dipper said. “You’re the only person that won’t try to hold my hand through the whole thing. I want someone here with me, but I still have to do this myself, y’know?”

“I understand,” Wendy said. “No one else can face your fears for you.” They walked in silence for a minute before she spoke again. “You know that applies to Mabel too.”

Dipper furrowed his brow in confusion. “What do you mean? Mabel’s fine.”

“She’s got as much reason to be scared of Bill as anyone,” Wendy said. “She’s the one he tricked to kick off the apocalypse. Are you gonna tell me she doesn’t think about that? That she doesn’t sometimes wake up in the middle of the night after a dream where everything didn’t turn out okay?” She grimaced. “I do.”

Dipper’s face fell. “She’s never said anything about it.”

“Have you ever asked?”

Dipper opened his mouth to reply, but no words came out. Wendy put a hand on his shoulder. “We both know Mabel,” she said. “She’ll still be bouncing off the walls no matter what’s going on in her head. But I bet there’s a lot you two could talk through together.”

“I don’t want to bog her down with my worries,” Dipper said.

“And she’s probably thinking the same with you,” Wendy said. “And even if she isn’t, she’s your twin! You two wouldn’t have survived last summer if you couldn’t trust each other.”

Dipper sighed. “You’re right, like usual. I’ll talk to Mabel … later.” He stopped in his tracks. “But I’m still doing this myself.”

The clearing opened up before him. Bill’s statue faced him, its outstretched hand beckoning him forward. The growth of vines had thickened since the previous afternoon, to Dipper’s surprise. Larger green tendrils climbed up the face of the statue, snaking around its arm and hat. Soos would probably need more than basic weed killer to handle this problem.

Dipper took a deep breath. “Alright. I’m going to … talk to Bill, I guess.”

Wendy brandished her axe in both hands. “And if he talks back, I’ll come chop that stupid hat right off his head.”

Dipper stepped out into the clearing, forcing himself to keep moving as he approached the statue. Its eye stared blankly ahead, but the feeling that it was watching him still unnerved Dipper. He stopped a few feet in front of the statue and glanced back at Wendy, who gave him an encouraging grin. Steeling himself, he turned back to Bill.

“So, uh, Bill,” Dipper said. His cheeks flushed. Somehow he hadn’t thought talking to a statue would feel this ridiculous. “You, uh, you’re looking crummy. Those vines can’t be very comfortable.” He frowned. “But hey, you’re the one who tried destroying the town and killing my family. So you deserve what you got.”

There was no reply from the statue. Of course not, Dipper chided himself. His voice grew more confident as he continued. “I’m just here because Soos needs you looking spick and span,” he said. “You’re doing some good for our family now, how weird is that? Mabel was right, this really is the best use for you.” He fumbled in his pocket and pulled out a bottle, giving the statue a quick spritz. A couple vines immediately began to shrivel. “Wow, this stuff works fast – oh.” Dipper looked at the object in his hand and groaned. It wasn’t the weed killer, but his Hatchet Body Spray. He could hear Wendy’s barely-stifled laughter behind him. “Ha ha, very funny,” he said. He put the cologne back in his pocket and pulled out the actual weed killer, spraying around the statue until he was satisfied he’d covered it all.

He stepped back and surveyed the statue up and down one more time. “You really had me going, Bill,” he said. “I heard about the gnomes disappearing and immediately wondered if it was you.” His face fell. “The thought that you might still be able to hurt anyone scared me so much. I had to make sure that it wouldn’t happen again.” He straightened up. “But you’re gone. I guess I just needed to come see you again to convince myself.” He reached out and grasped the statue’s extended hand. “Goodbye, Bill. And good riddance.”

Dipper released the statue’s hand, and the vine on its arm uncoiled. In one rapid movement, it wrapped itself around Dipper’s wrist, locking his hand firmly in place against Bill’s. Dipper looked down at the slender vine gripping him and his whole body went numb. The bottle of weed killer dropped from his free hand, its top popping off as it hit the ground. Dipper turned to the statue itself, but nothing had changed. Its unblinking eye stared back at him, lifeless as ever, while the spilled liquid soaked into the earth at its base.

Metal screeched off stone as Wendy brought down the head of her axe on Bill’s arm. The severed vine fell away, lying motionless in the grass at her feet. Wendy pulled Dipper away from the statue, putting herself between him and Bill. A ripple ran through the vines and they lifted away from the surface of the stone, their tips angling directly at Dipper and Wendy.

Wendy kept her gaze trained on the vines as she spoke. “Dipper? What’s going on?”

“It’s him,” Dipper said, barely able to conjure breath for a whisper.

“Are you sure?” Wendy said, a faintly detectable trace of fear in her voice. “These woods are weird, maybe they’re just scary monster vines.”

Dipper shook his head. “You saw how it happened. It has to be him.”

“Then what do we do?”

Dipper’s heartbeat pounded in his ears. Whatever logical reasoning he might have had abandoned him. Only one solution seemed viable.

“Run.”

Neither he nor Wendy hesitated as they turned and bolted from the clearing. Behind them, the vines exploded outward from the statue and an unearthly shriek split the quiet of the evening. Birds, squirrels, and deer scattered through the underbrush, fleeing the source of the horrible sound.

Dipper looked over his shoulder and immediately wished he hadn’t. Dozens of green tendrils snaked along the path behind him, reaching ever closer. He screamed as one snapped at his heels, brushing over the back of his leg, only for it to be cut down by the blade of Wendy’s axe. She twirled the weapon frantically, cutting down any vine that drew too close. Despite his mortal terror, Dipper couldn’t help but admire her work.

“Wendy?”

“I know, dude. I’m the coolest person you know.”

“You don’t have to be smug about it.”

They kept running, Wendy fighting off the plants all the way. Dipper noted that the vines weren’t as numerous as they had been just a minute earlier and fewer grew close enough to be cut down by Wendy’s swings. Just as she sliced through the last visible vine, the Mystery Shack appeared through the trees ahead.

“Wendy, we made it!” Dipper burst into the open and turned back to the woods, breaking out in a relieved smile. Wendy stepped out behind him, breathing heavily. “That was a close one,” Dipper said. “Are you –”

Wendy’s legs were yanked out from under her and she fell face first into the grass, her axe slipping from her fingers and embedding itself head-first in the ground. Screaming, she clawed at the ground, the vines around her ankles pulling her back toward the trees. Dipper froze, watching helplessly as she struggled against the plants, before instinct took over. He charged, letting out a yell that was half fear and half anger. Before he could even comprehend his own action, he lifted the discarded axe in both hands, grunting from the effort as he brought it down hard, chopping away both vines in one swipe. Wendy leapt back to her feet and grabbed Dipper by the wrist, backpedaling away from the forest with Dipper in tow. For a long moment, they waited, tensed in anticipation, but no more vines emerged to pursue them. Sighing, they turned back to the Shack.

Dipper handed the axe to Wendy, smiling sheepishly. “I guess we’re even now,” he said.

“Seriously? I killed like twenty of those vines while we were running. We’re not even close to even.”

Soos stepped onto the porch, whistling to himself until he noticed Dipper and Wendy approaching. “Perfect timing, dudes! Melody and Abuelita went to Greasy’s Diner while I was closing up, you wanna join them with me? Dinner’s on the Soos tonight!” He paused, noticing Dipper and Wendy’s torn clothes and disheveled hair. “Whoa, you look rough. Did you guys, like, roll back home? I used to do that, but these suits are way harder to patch up.”

Wendy pushed Soos back inside and Dipper closed the door behind them. “Sorry, Soos, but we’ve got trouble,” Dipper said. “Bill trouble.”

“No worries, dudes,” Soos said. “Mr. Pines taught me how to make all the bills disappear.” He lifted the edge of the rug with his foot, revealing a stack of dusty envelopes underneath.

“No, it’s Bill Cipher,” Dipper said. “I went to the statue and the vines, they –”

“Guys, come look at this!” Mabel’s voice called from the living room. “Vines are attacking the town!”

“Whoa, hold on, Dipper,” Soos said. “This sounds serious. You can finish your story later.” Dipper pinched the bridge of his nose in exasperation as he followed Soos and Wendy.

Mabel sat on the edge of the armchair with Waddles at her side, her eyes glued to the TV screen as the others entered the room. Shandra Jimenez stood in Greasy’s Diner, which was filled with terrified townspeople. “Breaking news, Gravity Falls is under attack by paranormal forces once again,” she said, her voice and expression stoic. Behind her, Manly Dan and the Corduroy boys cowered under a table while Melody tried to coerce Abuelita away from her unfinished dinner. “A horde of giant vines has appeared throughout the town, attacking people and structures indiscriminately,” Shandra continued. “Mayor Tyler has ordered that all citizens remain indoors and stay away from windows to alleviate risk that the vines will, and I quote, ‘git ‘em.’” Something crashed offscreen and the camera panned to the doorway, where Lazy Susan was beating away vines with a flaming broom. Sandra stepped back into the camera frame, ignoring the battle in the background. “If the town is still standing, we’ll be back at 10 for your nightly news. I’m Shandra Jimenez, and I am going to hide in the bathroom. Back to you, Toby.”

The feed abruptly cut back to the studio, where Toby Determined was sitting on top of his desk, eating a meatball sub in his underwear. The “on the air” light flashed red and he jolted in surprise, falling backward into his seat and dropping his sandwich on the desk. He stared wide-eyed at the camera and cleared his throat. “As a reporter to the people, I know how important it is to remain professional during these trying times,” he said, wiping away a smudge of marinara sauce from the corner of his mouth. Without warning, a vine smashed through the studio wall, grabbed Toby, and pulled him offscreen.

Mabel turned to Dipper and Wendy. “What the heck did you guys do to make all the vines go cuckoo bananas?”

“My dad told me that someday the plants would come for revenge against us lumber folk,” Wendy said. “I didn’t think he meant it this literally.” On the TV, a second vine peeked up over the anchors’ desk and snatched Toby’s abandoned sandwich.

“It’s Bill,” Dipper said. “I don’t know how or why, but all this is coming from him.”

Mabel’s eyes widened. “But Ford said he was gone. He and Stan beat him for good.”

“Obviously they were wrong,” Dipper said.

“I wish they were here now,” Soos said. “Maybe I can be Mr. Mystery, but I don’t think I can beat a demon.”

“We should wait for them to get back,” Dipper said. “Ford will know what to do.”

“That could take days!” Mabel said. “Those vines are going to hurt everyone in town!”

Wendy put a hand on Dipper’s shoulder. “She’s right,” she said. “All of our friends and family are in trouble.” She lifted her axe. “I say we remind Bill why he doesn’t mess with Gravity Falls.”

“There’s all kinds of pointy metal lawn stuff in the closet,” Soos said.

“Perfect!” Mabel said. She ran to the closet and came back with a handful of threatening looking garden tools, dropping them in a pile on the floor in the middle of the group. “Arm yourselves, everybody! We’ve got a weed to pull!”

Dipper nibbled at his fingernail as Mabel and Soos sorted through the heap of potential weapons. “Guys, maybe we should work out a plan first. If we’re going to have any chance of fighting Bill, then we need to know what we’re doing.” His words came faster, so quick he could barely keep track of what he was saying. “I mean, I know we can beat him, we did it before, but, how – I’m not sure – we have to have a plan. Right?”

Soos and Wendy exchanged glances, but neither seemed willing to answer. Mabel took a deep breath before speaking. “Dipper, I know this is really scary, but we –”

A loud bang rattled the Shack, shaking the floor itself. Waddles squealed in fear and dashed out of the room. Dipper swallowed nervously. “So, uh, what are the odds that our old magical unicorn barrier still works?” As if in response, a sickening crunch of wood resounded from the gift shop. Dipper peered around the corner just as the first vine crept in through the splintered remains of the door. “Okay, forget what I said, we need to leave!”

Soos opened the back door and peeked outside. “No vines back here, dudes,” he said. “We can make a run for the golf cart and get out of here.”

Dipper reached into the tool pile and grabbed a shovel, as reasonable a weapon as he thought he could manage. Mabel lifted a weedwhacker in both hands and revved the motor experimentally. She pursed her lips and nodded in satisfaction.

“Get to the cart!” Wendy said, waving the twins through the back door just before the vines slithered into the living room. “Come on, Soos, let’s go!”

Soos glared at the vines. “Go with Dipper and Mabel,” he said. “I’ll hold them off.”

“Soos, we’re not leaving you!” Wendy protested.

“I said go!” Soos said, brandishing a rake toward the vines. “I’m Mr. Mystery. It’s my duty to protect the Shack and the kids!”

Wendy hesitated, but nodded in acknowledgement and stepped out onto the porch. “Stay safe, Mr. Mystery.”

The vines reared up like snakes, looming over Soos, but he stood his ground, keeping himself between them and the door. He slammed the rake handle-first on the floor and unleashed a battle cry to shake the very heavens. “You shall not pass!”

Dipper and Mabel piled onto the golf cart seat as Wendy gunned the engine. “Hang on tight,” she said. “We’re taking this fight to Bill.”

A large cluster of vines withdrew from the Shack, clutching Soos tightly in their coils. “Oh no, they passed!” he yelled as he disappeared into the forest.

“And I guess we’re saving Soos too,” Wendy added. She pressed the pedal to the floor and the cart shot into motion, spinning in a tight curve and smashing through the underbrush. The cart swerved onto the dirt path and careened through the woods, nearly tossing Dipper and Mabel out of their seats.

“So, uh, do we actually have any kind of plan?” Dipper asked. A vine lashed at them from the right side, but Mabel cut it down with the weedwhacker.

“Get to Bill,” Wendy said. “We can wing it from there.”

“Okay, cool,” Dipper said, trying and failing to force a smile. He yelped as more vines snapped at the cart. Mabel whooped excitedly as she swung the weedwhacker in wide arcs.

“Dipper, watch our back,” Wendy said. “Don’t let anything catch us from behind.”

“R-right,” Dipper said. He leaned over the back of the seat, holding his shovel defensively in his shaking hands. Immediately, a vine grabbed the shovel and ripped it away from him, nearly pulling him out with it.

“New idea,” Wendy said. She turned and hopped over the seat to stand on the back of the cart. “Take the wheel. I’ll fight.”

Dipper scrambled for the wheel while Wendy whirled her axe at the approaching vines. “I don’t like this,” Mabel said, eyeing Dipper skeptically. “Bad things happen when you drive the golf cart.”

“Bad things happen when anyone drives the golf cart,” Dipper countered. “Clearly the cart is the problem.”

The cart lurched as it hit a root and Wendy tumbled back into the seat. “Stop insulting the cart, Dipper!” Mabel said. “It doesn’t like that!”

Dipper rolled his eyes. “Mabel, I don’t think the cart cares if I –”

A particularly large vine snagged one of the back poles of the roof. Everyone screamed as the cart veered sideways, tearing through the vine but losing all traction. Dipper fought to correct the cart’s trajectory, but it spun out of his control, crashing through the trees and bushes before flipping onto its side.

Wendy groaned, standing up from the wreckage and pulling the twins out with her. “Just once, I’d like to have a highspeed chase in this cart that doesn’t end in a wreck,” Dipper said, adjusting his hat.

“Heads up,” Wendy said. “We’re here.”

For the second time that evening, Dipper found himself face to face with Bill Cipher. The statue still rested in the same spot across the clearing, with newer, larger plants erupting from the ground around it. More vines lingered at the edges of the tree line, rising and falling softy in unison, as though they were a single huge, breathing organism.

“Hey, dudes!”

Dipper, Mabel, and Wendy looked straight up at the sound of the voice. High above, suspended in a virtual cocoon of closely-wound vines, Soos’s smiling face peered down at them. Numerous smaller green clumps hung around him, some of which were visibly wriggling.

“Don’t worry, Soos!” Mabel called. “We’ll have you down faster than you can say ‘photosynthesis!’” She and Wendy stood back to back with Dipper between them, carefully watching the vines surrounding them.

“Down is not where I want to be right now, dudes,” Soos said.

As soon as the words left his mouth, the earth began to rumble, nearly knocking Dipper off his feet. An ominous growl rose on the air, seeming to emanate from Bill himself. Behind the statue, a monstrous green bulb emerged, towering over Dipper, Mabel, and Wendy. With a disgusting wet smack, the bulb split open, revealing a gaping maw full of toothy spines. Though it didn’t have eyes, Dipper was sure that he was locked firmly in its sights.

“It’s a giant flytrap!” he said. “It must be where all the vines are coming from.”

The flytrap’s head lurched forward, dripping a long stream of clear liquid onto the grass below. “Uh, is it drooling?” Mabel asked.

“I think it’s just digestive enzymes,” Dipper said. He frowned. “So, yeah, I guess it basically is drooling.”

“That was definitely not here before,” Wendy said. “Where did it come from?”

“Maybe Bill possessed it and turned it into some kind of demon plant,” Dipper said. “If sock puppets can be possessed, then why not plants too? Especially plants with mouths.”

“I’d rather possess a flower,” Soos called. “Nobody suspects a flower.”

“None of that matters,” Wendy said. “Right now we just need to take out that head.”

Dipper glanced around anxiously. “There are two problems with that. One, there are still angry vines completely surrounding us. And two, that flytrap is probably going to take a bite out of anyone who gets close.”

“I’ve got the same answer to both problems,” Wendy said, raising her axe over her head. “Cut them all down!”

She charged, with Mabel right on her tail, waving her weedwhacker manically. Dozens of vines lunged toward them, whipping and weaving around to avoid the girls’ attacks. Dipper searched the broken golf cart for anything he could use as a weapon, but found nothing suitable. He had to help Mabel and Wendy, but how could he?

“Dipper! Snap out of it!”

Mabel dashed in front of him, slashing through a vine directly in front of his face. “Get it together, bro! We need your help!”

“I want to help!” Dipper said, his voice cracking. “But I can’t! I can’t fight Bill!”

Mabel threw up her arms in exasperation. “You don’t have a choice! I know it’s scary, but –”

Her words trailed off into a high-pitched shriek as a vine hooked around her waist and hauled her off her feet. Dipper gasped in horror. “Mabel!”

“Dipper! Help!”

A few seconds later, another scream rang out as Wendy was snatched up as well, her axe held uselessly against her side. “Let me go, you dumb weed! I’m not done with you yet!”

Something brushed against his chin, a slight touch, soft as a feather. Dipper looked down, horrified at the sight of the vine coiling around his chest. “No!” he yelled, digging his nails into the plant as it lifted him into the air to join the others.

“What do we do now?” Soos asked. Wendy just looked at him sadly, having no comforting words left. Mabel struggled to break loose even as tears brimmed at the corners of her eyes.

The last shred of Dipper’s resolve stirred at the sight. He tried to pry away the vine holding him, but it only spurred the plant to squeeze him harder.

Crack!

A second after Dipper heard the noise, the vine released him, allowing him to fall. He landed on his back on the forest floor, grunting in pain as he hit. The impact knocked the wind out of him, but he staggered to his feet. Vines lingered around him, but none drew too close.

“Dipper!” Mabel’s voice reached him from above.

“Are you okay?” Wendy called.

“Do something, dude!” Soos added.

Dipper’s breath came back, faster and faster, too fast to manage. Black spots danced at the corners of his vision as he watched his sister and his friends dangle overhead, the vines moving them toward the wide-open mouth of the waiting flytrap. “Mabel!” he cried. “Hang on, I – I’ll figure this out! I – I can – ”

“Get away from my family, you big green jerk!”

A metallic whir filled the air and Stanley Pines burst through the underbrush, chainsaw in hand. With one quick move, he bisected the vine holding Mabel. She slipped from its grasp, screaming as she fell, but Stan caught her with ease, holding her to his chest. Dipper and Mabel gasped.

“Grunkle Stan!”

“Stand back, sweetie,” Stan said, carefully sitting Mabel next to Dipper. “I’ve got this.” He picked up his chainsaw and revved it loudly before severing the other vines. Wendy dropped free, rolling gracefully as she landed and springing back up to standing position.

“Incoming!”

Dipper turned just as Ford stepped past him, gun aimed at the cocoon of plants holding Soos. He fired one blast, cleanly shooting through the cluster of vines at their base. The plants crumbled away and Soos dropped out, arms extended toward Stan. “Look out, Mr. Pines!”

Stan dropped the chainsaw and looked up. “Oh you’ve got to be kidding –”

Soos slammed into him, sending both of them tumbling in the dirt. “Thanks for the save, Mr. Pines!” Soos said, standing up and dusting himself off.

“Don’t mention it,” Stan said, coughing. “I mean it, don’t ever mention this again.”

Dipper looked back and forth between his great uncles, his lips turning up in a genuine smile. Mabel hopped in place, not even attempting to contain her excitement. “Grunkle Stan, Grunkle Ford! I can’t believe you’re here!”

“We can worry about greetings later,” Ford said, his expression grim. “First we need to deal with the vines. Tell me what’s going on. I’ve seen some hostile greenery before, but never anything like this.”

“It’s Bill,” Dipper said quietly, gesturing toward the statue. “I shook his hand and now this is happening.”

Ford frowned. “That can’t be! None of my tests gave any indication that Bill could still be alive.”

“Forget your tests!” Stan said. “Let’s just focus on sluggin’ this freak back to the second dimension!” He raised his chainsaw again, scowling at the plants that circled the group. “Come at me, you lousy crabgrass!” More vines launched toward him, but he blazed through them and continued his charge toward the statue. Wendy followed behind him, cutting down anything that Stan missed. Rake in hand, Soos hurried after, chopping up any still-wiggling vines.

“Look out, world!” Mabel exclaimed. “The invincible Pines family is together again!”

Ford knelt down in front of the twins, holding out a hand to stop Mabel’s cheering. “Kids, calm down for a moment.” He looked to Dipper. “Dipper, I saw that vine drop you before. What did you do to it?”

“I didn’t do anything,” Dipper said. “I just heard this noise and – wait.” He reached into his vest pocket and pulled out his Hatchet Body Spray. A long crack ran down the side of the bottle, through which a light stream of liquid was seeping out. “Aw man, it broke my bottle of cologne.”

“Maybe the vines are just mad because of that gross smell,” Mabel said, pinching her nose.

“Let me see that.” Ford took the bottle from Dipper and squinted at the label, nodding to himself as he read. “I don’t believe it. The combination of chemicals in this is exactly what we need. Dipper, you’ve saved us!”

Dipper’s face flushed red. “Seriously?”

Ford handed the cologne back to Dipper. “This spray is made of the most toxic mixture of chemicals I’ve ever seen! You’re lucky this stuff hasn’t given you second degree burns.” He paused thoughtfully. “If we can get this bottle into the flytrap’s mouth, then it will absorb the chemicals and die! And if the vines are coming from it, then that will kill them too!”

“Whaddya know!” Mabel said. “Guess it’s a good thing Dipper’s a stinky weirdo after all!”

“But how are we supposed to get the bottle to the flytrap?” Dipper asked.

Ford cocked his gun. “Just stick with me. We’ll run it straight to the mouth.” He smiled. “You with me?”

Dipper and Mabel nodded as one. Ford led the way, blasting every vine that came near with expert marksmanship, while Mabel covered the rear with her weedwhacker and Dipper stayed in the middle, holding the bottle in both hands. Ahead of them, Stan had cleared an area in front of the statue, with Wendy and Soos fighting off the plants on either side. The flytrap’s head bellowed, spurring Stan to respond with a war cry of his own. “I’m comin’ for you, Bill!” he said, dropping his chainsaw and making the last few strides toward the statue. Before Dipper or Ford could say anything, Stan reared back, fist clenched, and punched Bill directly in the eye.

“Hot Belgian waffles!” He instantly crumpled to his knees, clutching his hand in agony. “Ow! So much pain! Why so much pain?”

“You just punched a rock, you knucklehead!” Ford said, equal parts angry and exasperated. “Now get out of the way!” He aimed his gun at the flytrap’s head. “Get ready, Dipper! I’ll draw its attention and then you throw the bottle in its mouth!”

Dipper nodded, unable to force out any words through his shuddering breaths. The bottle in his hands was slick with both leaking body spray and his own sweat.

“Okay, nerds, get this done!” Stan said. “I’m ready to give this thing a left hook right in the – whoa!” One second later he was hanging upside down, a vine wrapped around his ankle.

“Stanley!” Ford spun toward his brother, pointing his gun at the plant holding him. In that moment, the flytrap attacked, lunging forward with its mouth agape. The flash of movement caught Ford’s eye and he dove to the side, avoiding its jaws, only to be caught up in a tangle of waiting vines.

“Oh no, Grunkle Ford!” Dipper stared in horror at his uncles, strung up side-by-side, unable to break free no matter hard they fought their restraints. At the sides of the clearing, Wendy and Soos were both pushed back by the overwhelming numbers of the encroaching vines.

Mabel gripped Dipper’s shoulder and gave him a quick shake. “Dipper, do something! We have to stop this now!”

“I can’t get the cologne into the mouth from here!” Dipper said. “It has to come closer!”

“Well whatever your plan is, tell me fast!” Mabel said. She screamed as a vine nipped at her, wrenching the weedwhacker from her hands and breaking it into pieces.

Dipper glanced around him, panic setting in. Stan and Ford were captured, Soos and Wendy were losing, Mabel was helpless, the whole town was under siege, and every single person was counting on him. And in the center of the plants, Bill Cipher’s petrified body silently taunted him, assuring him of his inevitable failure. “I don’t know how to save us, Mabel,” he said, the pounding of his heart deafening in his ears. “I freeze up just looking at Bill! I should be able to do this, but I can’t!”

“Don’t you think I’m scared of Bill too?” Mabel said. “You’re not the only one who still has nightmares about Weirdmageddon.”

Dipper looked up to meet Mabel’s eyes and was surprised by the anguish he saw in her face. “Really? But you haven’t seemed afraid of him at all.”

“Because I don’t want that to hold me back!” Mabel said. “Sure I worry about what would happen if things had gone differently, or if he ever came back. But I’m not going to let him get in the way of the rest of my life.” Her expression softened. “So what if this is the scariest problem you’ve ever faced? You have a new scariest problem every week! You used to run from gnomes, now you fight giant robots and shapeshifters and alien drones! Maybe you couldn’t beat Bill by yourself before, but that doesn’t make any difference. You’re Dipper Pines, and you’ve never let down the people who need you.”

Dipper gulped, his pulse racing. “Mabel, I – do you really think so?” His gaze darted around the vines creeping toward him before settling on Mabel, her eyes wide and pleading. He inhaled deeply, trying to slow his rapid breaths. “Well, I guess we’ll die for sure if I don’t do anything.”

“Now we’re talking!” Mabel said. “So do you have a plan?”

Dipper felt the cool glass of the bottle in his hands. “Nope,” he said. “But here goes nothing.”

He stepped forward, into the range of the flytrap. Its head glared down at him, and if it had a tongue, Dipper was sure it would be licking its lips. He closed his eyes, fighting to keep his nerves from failing him.

Mabel’s eyes widened. “Dipper, what are you doing?”

Dipper looked back at her and flashed a weak smile. “What I need to.”

Then the flytrap’s jaws clamped shut around him.

“Dipper!” Mabel screamed, running forward. The flytrap raised its head out of her reach, keeping its mouth tightly closed. Stan and Ford stared in shock at the spot where Dipper had been standing just a moment before. The vines halted their assault, allowing Soos and Wendy to turn and watch. Above them, the monster hummed rhythmically, a deep rumbling that shook the trees themselves.

Suddenly, the flytrap went rigid. A strange gurgling sound rose from within it and its head snapped about wildly. Around the clearing, the other vines writhed frantically, flailing as a raucous cough shook the flytrap. It drew back its head and opened its jaws, giving a loud wet hack as it spat out a thoroughly-drenched Dipper.

Mabel blinked in astonishment and she hurried to her brother’s side, throwing her arms around him and practically crushing him in her embrace. “What the heck did you do?” she asked, pulling back from the hug and helping him to his feet.

“I got plant spit in my ear,” Dipper said, shuddering. He held up the now-empty cologne bottle. “But I think the other guy had it worse.”

Spasms wracked the flytrap’s body as the chemicals took effect. Throughout the clearing, the vines shriveled and cracked into pieces. The freed captives plummeted to the forest floor, with Stan and Ford collapsing in a heap next to Dipper and Mabel. Behind them, a rain of vine cocoons fell and burst open, releasing a small horde of squirrels, birds, deer, and gnomes. One gray-bearded gnome bounced off Dipper’s head with a disgruntled yelp. “Shmebulock,” the gnome said, scampering away into the bushes.

With a last roar of outrage, the flytrap succumbed to the cologne. Its stem buckled beneath it and its wilted head crashed to the ground, wriggling for a moment longer before going still. Dipper finally exhaled, overcome with relief.

He was scooped up into a bear hug by Stan, Soos, and Wendy simultaneously. “You did it, Dipper!” Soos said.

“That was a real crazy move, kid!” Stan said. “Just don’t ever do that again. I don’t think my old heart can take it.” He furrowed his brow and sniffed the air. “And maybe go hose off that plant vomit.”

“Trust me, dude,” Wendy said. “It’s better than the cologne.”

Dipper stepped back and looked at everyone in turn, feeling a rush of warmth through him at the sight of all of their beaming faces. “I’m just so glad you’re all okay. I didn’t think I’d be able to save you.”

“I knew you could,” Mabel said. “And you did! Always listen to Mabel!”

Dipper grinned, but it faded as he saw Ford standing away from the group. The old man kneeled in the grass before Bill, examining something at the statue’s base. Dipper hurried to his side. “Why did this happen, Grunkle Ford? How did Bill do this?”

“I have a couple possible theories,” Ford said. “Some remnant of Bill’s power could have entered the plants and driven them to attack. Perhaps some of his will lived on in his physical body and took control of the vines once they grew around him.” An irritated expression crossed his face and he held up the empty spritzer bottle that Soos had given Dipper earlier. “Or maybe some chowderhead was out here spraying weeds with the most potent growth elixir on the planet.”

“Wait, what?” Dipper asked, blinking in surprise.

Ford pointed to the bottle. “Soos, where did get this from?”

“I found it in the closet,” Soos said. “I thought it was weed killer.”

Ford sighed. “It’s a serum that I created during my research,” he said. “Exactly the opposite of weed killer.”

“Why did you have that in the first place?” Dipper asked.

“For accelerating my experiments,” Ford said. “I was growing a lot of weird plants back in the Seventies.”

“Hey, so was I,” Stan said. Ford glared at him.

“So none of this was from Bill?” Dipper said.

“Nope,” Ford said. “Soos just accidentally mutated a hostile system of supervines.”

Soos hung his head in shame. “Sorry, dudes.”

“It’s not your fault, Soos,” Stan said. He scowled at Ford. “Blame the nerd who can’t even bother to put a label on his dangerous science junk.”

Ford rolled his eyes. “Fine, I’m sorry I didn’t clean up every single piece of my old life that was left in my house. It’s not like there were thirty years’ worth of your freakshow exhibits burying all of it anyway.”

Mabel grabbed both Grunkles by the cuffs of their sleeves and pulled them urgently. “Guys, stop fighting! We’re all back together again and we just saved the town from another crazy monster! We should be happy!”

“Yeah, I suppose you’re right,” Stan said, crouching down and pulling Dipper and Mabel both into another hug. “It’s good to see you little scamps again. Even if you’re already gettin’ into trouble.”

“Just like you taught us,” Dipper said, grinning.

Stan straightened up and addressed the others. “Soos, Wendy. I assume you’ve been takin’ good care of the ole Shack?”

“Of course!” Soos said. “She’s just the way you left her.”

“Maybe a little worse,” Wendy admitted. “It did just get invaded by vines.”

Stan shrugged. “Eh, it’s been through worse.”

“We’d better heard back to start repairs,” Ford said. “And I’m sure the rest of the town will want a hand with that as well.”

He led the way to the path with the rest of the group right behind him. Soos boosted Mabel onto his shoulders for a piggyback ride. “Hey, Grunkles,” she said. “Why were you so late getting here anyway?”

Ford grinned. “Ah, good question, Mabel. It is a pretty spectacular tale.”

“Hush up, Poindexter,” Stan said. “Everyone knows I’m the best storyteller in this family.” He cleared his throat. “It was a sunny morning when the Stan O’ War II sailed into the canal. Flowers were blooming, canaries were singing. And that’s when the cannibals showed up.”

As the group left the clearing, enraptured by Stan’s electrifying account of his and Ford’s adventure, Dipper paused to take one last look at Bill. The statue stood motionless amongst the piles of decaying vines, nothing more than a weathered stone left to solitude in the woods. For the first time, the dread in Dipper’s stomach dissipated. He nodded to himself and turned back to join the others. His family, his friends, his favorite people in the world.

Now, he thought, it was truly summer.

*****

Mabel groaned as she flopped back onto her bed. “Is it possible to sleep forever?”

“That’s called dying, Mabel,” Dipper said.

“I welcome it.”

The night had been long and exhausting. After leaving the woods, the Pines family had embarked on a cleaning crusade across town, offering their assistance in fixing up the damage caused by the vines. Soos and Wendy shared happy reunions with their families, relieved to find them all safe and sound. By the time they returned to the Mystery Shack, the moon was already high in the sky, and Stan and Ford agreed that renovations on the Shack itself could wait for the next day. After a quick dinner of leftover Sooscakes, there was nothing anyone wanted more than to rest.

A low snorting caught Dipper’s attention as Waddles entered into the room, hopping into Mabel’s bed and nuzzled up against her. She giggled, pulling the pig closer to her and kissing his head. “I’m so glad you’re okay, Waddles,” she said. “I don’t know what I’d have done if those vines had gotten you.”

Dipper set his hat on the table and lay back in his bed, staring at the ceiling. He sighed. “Mabel, I’m sorry.”

“For what?” Mabel said, rolling over to face her brother.

“For everything,” Dipper said. “I nearly got us all killed today because I panicked. I’ve faced my fears so many times before, but this was different. It was so much … more.”

“That’s because Bill is so much … more,” Mabel said. “I still think about him too.” She smiled. “But he’s gone. And even if he comes back, I know we can take him down. And I know you can stand up to him.”

“Thanks,” Dipper said, grinning back at Mabel. “But you’re right. I doubt we’ll ever have to deal with him again.”

“Just promise me one thing,” Mabel said, her face growing serious. “Don’t hide your fears anymore. Whatever you feel, you can talk to me about it! I’ll listen.”

Dipper nodded. “Alright, and you do the same. Tell me if you have nightmares. The best thing we can do is be there for each other.”

“Of course,” Mabel said. She stuck her clenched fist out toward Dipper. “Mystery Twins?”

Dipper mirrored the gesture, even though they were too far apart to actually touch. “Mystery Twins.”

“You kids are still awake?”

Stan stepped into the room, smirking at the twins. “It’s been a rough day,” Dipper said. “We had a lot to talk about.”

“Yeah, I hear ya,” Stan said. “Everyone else is asleep, but my darn brain won’t shut up.” He sighed. “I was really worried about you today.”

“It’s okay, Grunkle Stan,” Mabel said. “We can take care of ourselves!”

“And whenever we’re in real trouble, we know you’ll always show up to save us,” Dipper added.

Stan gave a tired smile. “You gremlins have more faith in me than you oughta. I don’t know how I got by this long without havin’ you around to keep me entertained.”

Mabel smiled. “We love you too.”

“Aw geez, it’s too early in the summer to get this mushy,” Stan said, wiping his eyes. “I need to get to sleep or I’m gonna turn into a bigger sap than the Jurassic Sap Hole.” He moved back to the doorway and flipped off the light. “Sleep well, kiddos. Hope you’re ready for a good old-fashioned Pines Family Fun Day tomorrow!”

“Goodnight, Grunkle Stan!” Dipper and Mabel said together. They nestled into their beds as Stan headed back downstairs.

In the darkness of the attic, Dipper could already feel himself drifting off to dreamland. “I really hope tomorrow is relaxing,” he said, yawning.

“In Gravity Falls?” Mabel said. “What are the odds of that?”

*****

Just after midnight, the Speedy Beaver bus pulled up in front of the Twin Bed Motel. Dale watched as his sole passenger stood up and walked to the door. The old woman was an odd one. Not many people rode into Gravity Falls in the middle of the night. But he couldn’t complain. At least she didn’t have a pig.

The old woman waved to Dale as the doors hissed closed and the bus pulled away. She took a deep breath of the cool night air, delighting in the woodsy scent. Already she felt a thrill of excitement at the idea of the new world she’d thrown herself into. Tomorrow, her life would begin again.

Carla stared up at the starry heavens for a moment before heading inside. “See you soon, Stanley.”

GR LW IRU WKH YLQH

#gravity falls #disney #gravity falls fanfiction #dipper pines #mabel pines #stanley pines #stanford pines #return to the falls #growing pains

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thedipster · 7 years

Text

How To Get Along With Your New Roommates: A Guide || The Bros of Room 421

Dipper had lucked out back in Berkley and gotten a single. Well, maybe his social life would’ve been a smidge more exciting if he actually had had a roommate to drag him out once in a while, but living alone definitely had its perks. For one, Dipper was a Very Neat Person. He was the neatest one in his family, which made his mom real proud, made Mabel real annoyed, and made his dad totally indifferent. And messes stressed him out. Unorganized messes stressed him out. And from his experience of dealing with dudes his own age, well, they were usually the epitome of Unorganized Messes.

Unfortunately, at PrideU, there was no such luck, and Dipper found himself at Room 421. It was a suite-style dorm, two bedrooms attached to a little common area with some very generic dorm-style couch and standard issue mini fridge. It took him two and a half trips to cart all his boxes up, and at the end of the half-trip (which was just his backpack and Leonard, the giant stuffed shark, tucked under his arm), Dipper stood a little ways in the doorway, most of his stuff already shoved into 421-B, and pulled out his phone.

Mabel had been giving him the silent treatment, since the beginning of summer. Well, as best of silent treatment that Mabel could give, which meant that though Dipper texted her and their parents updates about his Great Move, she only responded with the poop emoji (and occasionally the angry face one, but it was usually the poop). And yeah, to the whole “Just got all my stuff upstairs!” attached with a selfie of him and Leonard, Mom had said “So cute!!,” Dad had said “Good luck..Dips..” (in typical Benjamin Pines fashion using the incomplete ellipses), and Mabel had sent back a single poop emoji.

He sighed and was about to shove the phone back into his pocket, when he heard the doorknob jangle.

He whirled around on one heel. Alright, Dips, time to make a great impression on your new roommates. You can be cool. You got this.

“Hey!” he said, maybe a little too loudly, raising his hand up, and then suddenly realized he still had his other hand around Leonard, the giant stuffed shark. Great. All prospects of being cool, instantly wiped away. No one could be cool while holding a giant stuffed shark. If you looked up a guide of “how not to impress your potentially totally cool roommates in England,” holding a giant stuffed shark would be entry 2.

Maybe he could recover this by pretending Leonard didn’t exist.

“I’m Dipper,” he said, voice back to a cool, level tone. “Nice to meet you, uh.”

@mischievousmarvelousmagicalmaui

@born-to-battle

#i figured we could do this as like two seperate meetings #and just liek fuck logic #ahah #the bros of room 421 #dipaui #uh #dipvu #help #How To Get Along With Your New Roommates: A Guide

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anistarrose · 5 years

Text

To See The Unseen - Ch. 3 (Gravity Falls)

Summary: Mabel and Pacifica both receive visits from ghosts with very different intentions.

Warnings: nightmares, brief canon-typical violence, descriptions of a hospital room

AO3: archiveofourown.org/works/20884673/chapters/50274419

This is starting to look more like a five-chapter fic because I got an idea for an epilogue, so stay tuned for two more parts after this one!

***

Truth be told, Stan had thought that entering Mabel’s dreams would be harder. He wasn’t sure if he’d been expecting her to resist, or simply that it would’ve taken more concentration on his part — but in reality, all he had to do was blink, and when he opened his eyes, he was surrounded by vivid colors and funny animals.

It frightened him the more he thought about it, knowing that it was probably this easy for Bill too, and that this was all the effort it took for him to enter someone’s mind with his surely less-than-benevolent intentions. Stan hoped that Bill wasn’t watching him now and getting any ideas — because at the end of the day, the threat of his family being tormented scared Stan more than imprisonment in a mirror ever would. It didn’t seem like that realization had occurred to Bill yet, but there was no telling what he might do if he noticed Stan poking around in Mabel’s dreams…

But there wasn’t much Stan could do about that now, other than try and get in and out of here as quickly as possible.

“Mabel?” he called, stepping over a sleeping Ducktective as he surveyed the area. “You in here, pumpkin?”

A sickeningly neon young man, who Stan recognized from one of Mabel’s favorite direct-to-VHS 80’s cartoon movies, stuck his head out of a nearby bounce house and blinked a few times, tilting his head like a confused puppy.

“Hey dude, you look suspiciously not-radical! You’re not from ‘round here, are you? What do you want from us?”

Stan held up his hands. “Look, I’m just trying to talk to my niece. Trust me, I know exactly how weird this is, and I don’t like it either! I don’t want to be invading her dreams, and I definitely didn’t mean to get turned into a ghost —”

“Oh! You’re from the real world, aren’t you? That would make more sense.”

“Uh, yeah? Where else would I be from?”

The dream boy lowered his voice to a whisper. “Mabel has other dreams besides us sometimes — hard to believe, I know. But those dreams… they’re pretty different from us. We don’t really vibe with them, if you know what I mean, so we keep our difference — or at least, we try to, but they still sneak in here sometimes. More often than usual, lately.”

“Well, that’s ominous,” Stan muttered. “Mabel wouldn’t happen to be with those… those other dreams now, would she?”

The dream boy shrugged. “I dunno, man. Why don’t you follow her footprints and find out?”

“Footprints?” Stan looked down, and sure enough, a set of tracks was visible in the golden, crystalline sand beneath his feet. The imprints were too small to be from his own dress shoes, but just the right size and shape to have been left by Mabel’s sneakers. “Oh, those prints. Thanks for the tip, uh… which one are you again? Xyler or Craz?”

“Even I don’t know, bro! What even is the self, when the only reality I’ve ever known is just a series of another being’s fleeting dreams? David Hume postulated that —”

“Alrighty then, I’m gonna go find Mabel now.” As the dream boy grew preoccupied with quoting dead philosophers, Stan set off in the direction of the footprints — following them down the hill, past a group of sledding stuffed animals, and into a forest of lava lamps. Mabel had taken a winding and haphazard path, doubling back on herself a few times, and Stan got the feeling she’d been more or less sleepwalking, without any specific goal in mind.

He exited the forest to find himself standing on a beach, where the yellow sand fizzed and popped like crystalline candy where it met the waves of a deep pink ocean. The view overhead was as clear as could be, with countless fantastical constellations animating and chasing each other across the dark purple sky, and the whole place smelled of sugar and artificial fruit flavorings.

But the whole coast was barren of life except for Mabel’s footsteps, which led directly into the water.

“Mabel?” Stan called. “Can you hear me?”

No response.

Maybe his voice was still as silent to her ears as it had been in the real world. Maybe she wouldn’t be able to hear him even if he found her.

But he couldn’t just give up now. He followed in Mabel’s footsteps towards the fizzing boundary between crystals and ocean, pinching his nose as the smell intensified, and then stepped in.

Instantly, he realized it wasn’t water. It was more like syrup, sticky and viscous and sickly-sweet, and the receding waves tugged him forwards until he was in up to his knees before he knew it. But he had a better view at what lay beneath the surface now, and he could make out a small, blurry light source illuminating the ocean from below — yellow and five-pointed, like the shooting star on Mabel’s favorite sweater.

“Is that you, sweetie? Can you hear me?”

He was up to his waist now, then to his shoulders. He stood on his tiptoes as the ocean floor slowly dissolved beneath him. Instinctively, he knew he still had a chance to struggle free and escape the dream, but with each wave that passed by him, he only grew only more and more determined that he wasn’t going to leave.

“Hang tight, Mabel. I’m coming.” He took a deep breath, and dove beneath the surface.

Surrounded by dense liquid and fizzing bubbles, it was difficult to see and even more difficult to move — but Stan imagined himself sinking towards the light, and sure enough, some force propelled him downwards. He always had been good at manipulating what happened in his own lucid dreams, and it was reassuring to know that the talent had carried over to Mabel’s dreams too.

The star was coming into clearer focus, and Stan extended an arm towards it, only to hit something solid that collapsed beneath the force of his touch. The dark purple seafloor began to crumble away, revealing an even darker chasm below in which the star still floated, and a whirlpool swirled into existence around it, catching Stan in its vortex and pulling him in —

He crashed through the earthen roof of a room he didn’t recognize, nearly hitting his head against a boulder as a deluge of water carried him down the tunnel. It took him a few seconds to come to his senses, but when he did, he instantly recognized the voice he heard echoing from within the next room:

“Take that! And that, you shapeshifting jerk!”

“Mabel!” Stan broke into a frantic run, hurtling around the corner —

He saw an alien, insectoid monster with bulging red eyes swing its claw-like arm towards Mabel, but she darted out of the way and clocked it on the head with a piece of pipe. It collapsed like a rag doll the second she struck it, toppling to the ground and slowly shrinking until it resembled…

“No,” Mabel whispered, “no, no, no…”

The shapeshifter, now in the form of Stan’s unconscious body in his hospital gown, heaved out one last breath before lying very still as Mabel rushed to its side.

“Grunkle Stan, I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean to! You’re going to be okay, you have to be okay, I didn’t mean to —”

“Mabel!” Stan rushed to her side and gently pulled her away by her shoulders, lifting her up and wrapping her in a hug. “It’s okay, sweetie. That guy’s just a nightmare — the real me is right here with you, and I’m okay, I promise.”

“What?” Mabel had instinctively buried her face in the shoulder of Stan’s suit as she cried, but she looked up now, a realization beginning to dawn on her. “Grunkle Stan? Why are you… glowing blue?”

“I had a little accident,” Stan admitted, “but you and me and your brother are all gonna fix it together. I know we can.”

He set her down on the ground, and snapped his fingers in the direction of the shapeshifter’s body, which promptly dissolved into a swarm of swarm of blue fireflies that took off through the bunker. “That’s better. Having to look at that guy was no fun, was it?”

Mabel rubbed her eyes. “Am I dreaming?”

“No! Well, yeah, but this is the real me you’re talking to — and you’ve gotta bear with me here, you can’t wake up just yet. There’s a lot I still need to tell you!”

“What happened to you? How are you unconscious in real life, but also in my dreams?”

“I… found a cursed artifact. Like, really, really cursed — it looked just like a fancy compact mirror, but it pulled my soul out of my body… hey, you know what? Let me ask you a weird question: you know Bill Cipher, right?”

Mabel immediately tensed up. “He did this to you?!”

“Not quite,” Stan corrected her. “I did this to myself — just me and my recklessness, all on our own — but Bill stopped by a while ago to tell me how the mirror worked.”

He held out a hand and concentrated, summoning an image of the mirror much like Bill had earlier, as he gave Mabel the condensed version of what had happened to him and everything he’d learned from Bill. He left out the bits about Ford and the portal, as well as the detail about how a new person scrying should in theory release him — he didn’t want the kids getting any dumb ideas. He didn’t want them trying what he’d do if their roles were reversed.

“He said that once it’s been twenty-four hours since I used the mirror — so at about eleven PM tonight, I guess — I’ll be trapped inside the portrait forever.” Mabel gasped, and he put a reassuring hand on her shoulder. “Bill said he could get me out, but only if I do him a favor — which I’m never going to do. Not after everything he’s done to my family. I’m not taking his deal.”

“But you can’t just give up!” Mabel told him, grabbing him by the lapels of his suit and shaking him with surprising force. “We need you back here with us, Grunkle Stan!”

“I’m not giving up. I never will — we’ve got that in common, all of us Pines.” Stan smiled, despite himself. “There’s only one time I’ve ever given up in my life, and that was when Gideon took the Shack — but you know how that turned out. You and Dipper saved the day, and proved me wrong.” He patted Mabel on the head, mussing up her hair. “And now I know better than to lose hope ever again.”

“But how will you get back in your body all on your own? Do you have a plan?”

“Not really,” Stan admitted. “Not yet. But I know the type of guy Bill is, and I know how he works. He’s just a big old liar, and he’s not always as good at it as he thinks he is. He’ll make it sound like I’m doomed without his help, but odds are, there’s a loophole somewhere that I can use to escape all on my own. We just need to get the mirror back from the Northwests, so you and Dipper can take a look at it and put his nerd brain, my scam artist brain, and your creative brain together to figure this thing out.”

Mabel took him by the hands. “And if we can’t find a loophole in time?”

“I do have a Plan B, if it comes down to it. There’s definitely a reason why it’s not Plan A, but… it’s always there in case we need it.”

Mabel stared into his eyes, tightening her grip on his hands. “Promise me you won’t do anything risky, Grunkle Stan? We’ve all been really worried about you — Dipper and Wendy and Soos and I…”

“I’m not leaving you, kiddo. Promise.”

Mabel hugged him. “Good.”

Her arms began to flicker, as did Stan’s, and the dream slowly faded to white.

“I can’t talk to you when you’re awake, so you’re going to have to get the others caught up. But I’ll see you again soon, don’t worry.”

He blinked, and found himself floating in the hospital room again, watching Mabel wake up and rub her eyes.

“Hey, Mabel,” Soos said glumly. He looked more exhausted than Stan had ever seen him, even on the days he’d tried to come into work sick. “There haven’t been any updates…”

“You guys, I had an idea!” Dipper practically kicked the door open as he barged back into the room, and Mabel jumped.

“We could use the mindscape spell to find Stan’s memory of how he got knocked unconscious! And if those memories work anything like the way they did last time we were in his mind, we might even be able to communicate directly — Mabel, what’s so funny? This is a serious idea —”

Mabel snickered as she shook her head it Dipper. “You’re right, it is a good idea — but the thing is, Stan kinda already beat you to it.”

***

The hospital room’s quietly ticking clock read 12:15 PM when Mabel finally finished catching the others up on what Stan had told her through her dream.

“You said the Northwests have the mirror now?” Dipper asked.

“Yeah, Stan saw Pacifica take it back to their mansion.”

“The Northwests would never willingly let us take something valuable they owned even if they had two hundred extras,” Wendy declared. “I vote we break in and steal it.”

Mabel gasped. “Okay, Pacifica may be a rich one-dimensional jerk, but she’s not a murderer! If we told her our grunkle’s life was in jeopardy, I’m sure she’d help us!”

“Break in anyway,” Stan told them. “Why are you passing up a morally justifiable chance to do crime?”

“You’re probably right, but I’m not betting Stan’s life on a spoiled rich kid’s moral compass,” Dipper told Mabel. “And even if she does want to help, there’s no guarantee her parents would go along with it.”

“I saw on the news the other day that her parents are out of town for the weekend,” Soos spoke up. “Took a big helicopter and everything.”

“Oh, that explains why they haven’t thrown a hissy fit yet about how the Nathaniel Northwest statue from the town square got stolen last night,” Wendy said. “The second they see it’s gone, they’ll probably sue the city for ruining their family’s image or something.”

Stan groaned. “We have eleven hours! Eleven hours, and you’re on track to spend all of them just sitting here torturing me by exchanging Northwest gossip!”

Dipper flipped through Journal 3. “The Author was no fan of the Northwests. I wonder if he left any blackmail material on them that we haven’t exhausted yet…”

Ford. The realization hit Stan like a truck. I’ve been stuck as a ghost for half the day and I haven’t even tried to do the thing I wanted the mirror for in the first place. I haven’t tried to find Ford!

The kids continued talking amongst themselves, though most of their words went in one of Stan’s ears and out the other.

They’ll be at this for a while — I’ve got time. I made it into Mabel’s dreams, how hard can it be to do the same thing with my own twin? I can do this. I can finally see him again…

The voices and other ambient sounds of the hospital faded as he concentrated on his brother’s face, and reached out into unfamiliar expanse of the multiverse.

***

“Here’s what I don’t get, Grandpa. Can I call you Grandpa? ‘Great-Great-Grandfather’ takes too long to say.”

Cracks formed at the statue’s shoulder and elbows as Nathaniel repositioned his stone arms into a shrug. Why not?

“Why did you only come back to haunt us now? You died almost a hundred and forty years ago, from that riding accident —”

Nathaniel’s eyes flashed orange, and wisps of smoke began to snake out from between the cracks in the statue. Riding accident? Is that what they told you? Well, it certainly did happen at the stables…

“...It didn’t have anything to do with the horses there, did it?” Pacifica realized out loud. “It was the mirror!”

Tell me, granddaughter: what else do the history books say about me? Do they talk about my discoveries in the field of the occult?

Pacifica shook her head.

Of course they don’t! Nathaniel roared. My own two children, Felicity and Eli, disapproved of my study of the monstrous. They thought our influence as Northwests should only extend to the mundane — and so, as I aged and they took more control of the family fortune for themselves, they conspired against me to hide my discoveries from the public! I was a nineteenth-century wizard, Pacifica, and they thought I was insane! I could’ve extended the Northwest’s influence to a whole new society of supernatural beings, but they called me a crazy old man and hired servants to keep me far away from the woods of Gravity Falls!

“That’s horrible! You had a vision, and they stifled it!”

It was horrible indeed, Nathaniel agreed, but the worst betrayal was yet to come.

He gestured to the lantern Pacifica had brought on her ride last night, which was now resting on her bedside table. I see you found my old lantern — did you know that with just a tiny tuft of animal hair added to the oil, it gains the power to illuminate ghosts? I developed that spell myself!

“Really? I didn’t even know this lantern was yours — you must be some kind of genius to develop that spell on your own!”

I certainly am, and it brings me no small amount of joy to see a member of my own line finally appreciating my work! One day when my overbearing children were out of town, I used that lantern to follow several spirits through the forest and out to the farthest reaches of the town, where I discovered a cave —

His voice lowered to a growl. And inside that cave, I found the beast.

The smoke escaping from his ghostly form condensed into a triangular shape, which Nathaniel smashed between two stone fists. Though at the time, I called him my Muse — I had a great many questions, and he had answers. For several months, I made discovery after discovery — capturing new anomalies for scientific analysis, charting the woods and the cave systems…

“But he turned on you too, didn’t he?”

At first, it was just simple disagreements. Different priorities. He wanted us to study other worlds, but I thought Gravity Falls still had untapped potential! More territory to annex, more undocumented supernatural residents to charge rent for their use of our lands — do you have any idea how rich unicorns are? They practically frolick in fields of golden coins! My Muse grew impatient with me, refusing to answer any of my questions that didn’t relate to gates between worlds, but I kept summoning him. Who did he think he was, withholding information from me? From Nathaniel Northwest?!

A hand made of smoke extended from the statue, taking hold of the mirror. But when I told him as much, my Muse not only ‘apologized,’ but in his infinite wisdom, suggested a ‘solution.’ He admitted that he was disinterested in my current work, but helped me create a device that would make me just as all-seeing as he was, so I could continue my research all on my own. And for twenty-four hours… the mirror worked like a charm. I was omniscient.

He flipped open the mirror to reveal the current picture — depicting a gray-haired man in a familiar suit and tie, still lacking facial features. But when my portrait was completed, I was trapped. I couldn’t see anything, least of all my mortal body. My power only grew over my years of imprisonment, and I transformed from a ghost that couldn’t touch the physical world into this powerful specter you see now, but in a cruel twist of fate, I couldn’t leave the mirror to do anything with that power.

Pacifica squinted at the current portrait. “Hang on. Is that…”

Be careful, granddaughter. Stare into the mirror with the intent to scry, and you’ll be trapped yourself. Nathaniel snapped the mirror shut.

The isolation wasn’t even the worst part, he went on. No, the worst part was thirty-two years ago, when I glimpsed freedom! A foolish young researcher was snooping on Northwest property and found my reflective prison, attempting to scry and freeing me in the process — but as it turned out, he was my Muse’s new pupil. His more useful pupil. And so that beast cast a spell over the mirror he’d instructed me to create, freeing his current pawn and trapping me back inside!

“But what did he and his new pawn end up doing? You mentioned something about other worlds — was he some kind of alien?”

If you haven’t seen the result of the beast’s plans all these years later, then he surely failed, Nathaniel mused. Good for him. I can concentrate on extending the family business to the supernatural market, and finally prove my children wrong!

He rubbed his chin. Though at least they managed to insert me in all the history books as town founder, earning me the posthumous respect I deserve! And commissioned a mighty fine statue to commemorate me, at that —

“Actually, Grandpa,” Pacifica interrupted, “most of the town knows you weren’t the founder, as of last Pioneer Day.”

They WHAT?

“Yeah, uh… a couple of kids my age, Dipper and Mabel Pines, dug up some top secret Quentin Trembley documents. Dipper especially made a big deal about rubbing it in my face and telling as many people as possible.”

A tiny bit of stone from one of the statue’s eyes liquified, dropping to the ground and hissing as it struck the floor.

Well then, Nathaniel murmured, I’ll have to let those meddling Pines children know that that’s unacceptable.

***

“I’m gonna stay here,” Soos told the others as they prepared to set off for Northwest Mansion. He pointed towards Stan’s body. “It just feels like someone should stick around to keep an eye on him, you know?”

“Good idea,” Dipper agreed. “That way, you can text Wendy if the doctors have updates.”

Mabel glanced around the room, not sure quite what she was looking for. “You’re here watching us, aren’t you, Stan? If you’re ready to go get the mirror back, can you give us some kind of sign?”

Aside from the ticking clock and beeping heart monitor, the room fell silent. No chills moved through the air, and no objects suspiciously fell off shelves.

“Well, I’m sure he’s still keeping an eye on us,” Mabel assured the others. “Let’s get going.”

***

(End notes:

Thanks for reading, comments/reblogs are appreciated as always! This is the chapter that’s changed the most from the outline so far, since I really love mindscape stuff and elaborated on Mabel’s dream a lot more than I’d planned to. Also, Nathaniel is an overdramatic monologuing capitalist asshole and writing him is very fun.)

#gravity falls #stanley pines #mabel pines #pacifica northwest #dipper pines #wendy corduroy #soos ramirez #fic: to see the unseen #rosalia writes fic

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