#Mabel would start looking between them and thinking that their mother had an affair with the show creator

[ryemiffie]

One of my favourite things is seeing people's designs for the mystery twins when they're older and Dipper is just Alex Hirsch

[athingthatwantsvirginia]

What about Byron?

PART THIRTY-EIGHT OF THE DO YOU SEE HER FACE? SERIES

Pairing: Jess Mariano x Original Character (Ella Stevens)

Warnings: mentions of surgery/appendicitis, mentions of family trauma, plentiful pop culture references, this is just fluff I know guys but I needed something to restore my faith in humanity even just momentarily

Word Count: 5.5K

Summary: The first Thanksgiving in Ella and Jess’s new apartment doesn’t go exactly according to plan.

Humming a She Wants Revenge song under her breath, Ella leaned back against the cabinets and dried the fragile dishes. She was reminded of their days at the diner as Jess stood over the kitchen sink washing them. From her spot sitting on the counter right next to him, she could admire his profile and feel her cheeks heat up at the sight. He had grown into himself so well. But his beauty and her comfort at his presence were probably the only things keeping her nerves at bay. The dishes, her mother’s, had come in the mail from Fiona only two days earlier. White faux China adorned with pinkish-red roses. Ella had taken a few moments to recognize them, since there had been no note along with them. But then she remembered family holidays when her mother would take them out, only used for the most special occasions. Even though they were chipped in some places and had been bought at a rummage sale just after her parents had gotten married.

The dishes were where the plans for the holiday truly started to form. Chris, Leo, Matthew, and Mabel all had other engagements which took them out of town for Thanksgiving. Ella and Jess were still unsure of what they were doing. Adam was going to Noah’s, Fiona was going to her sister’s. Still, no word from Jake. Jess was wary of staying in Stars Hollow, though his time at the community center therapist’s office had been doing him well. They bounced him around to a different counselor each time he went, and talking to a complete stranger about all his issues hadn’t come easy, still wasn’t coming easy. But maybe just the fact that he was trying made him feel better.

On a whim, at the sight of the dishes, Ella had a wild idea. Instead of going to Stars Hollow, why not bring Stars Hollow to Philadelphia? The dishes were meant to be used. She couldn’t neglect them like an instrument unplayed. Not her mother’s dishes. And when she’d run it by Jess, he’d been more receptive than she’d thought he would be. Maybe he was just surprised she was open to contacting anyone from her family at all. She still seemed so standoffish about them, since the graduation ceremony. And the apartment wasn’t big, but certainly they could handle a few people over for one afternoon. Julie, Michael, and their girls would be in attendance. Along with Luke and Lorelai. But, when Liz and TJ heard Luke and Lorelai were coming, they somehow managed to invite themselves.

Jess wasn’t thrilled about it, and neither was Ella, but they were trying to keep level heads. Plan everything in advance and keep the day-of to a low-stress affair. It was only Monday, and they were already washing the dishes. It made Ella feel slightly more secure. And she had the whole week off, leaving plenty more time to prepare. Luke and Lorelai were also coming on Wednesday and staying the night at a motel, though Ella and Jess insisted they didn’t need to help. Ella was shocked Luke was willing to be away from the diner for more than one day, let alone Thanksgiving. Maybe getting back with Lorelai after Rory’s graduation had changed his outlook on life a bit.

She uttered a small sigh as she dried yet another dish, stressing herself out with the storm of thoughts raging in her head. A throb was starting behind her eyes.

“What’s up?” Jess asked, handing her another plate, his hands reddish and dripping from the hot water.

Ella shook her head slightly. “Nothing. Doesn’t it just seem a little bourgeois of us to have a set of dishes?”

“I don’t know. I think we’re exempt, considering you got these from your mom, who got them from someone else,” Jess pointed out, his voice light. “Sharing is caring for the proletariat.”

Snickering, she let a small smile cross her lips. “Well, it’ll have to be, considering we’re trying to fit eleven people in a shoebox.”

“It won’t be that bad,” Jess continued, trying to sound reassuring. She had been quiet and fidgety all evening, and he wondered just how wound up about the event she really was. Ella had a tendency to spread herself too thin and regret it when it was already too late.

“Look at you, Mr. Sunshine,” she quipped as she dried the last plate.

Jess shut off the water and watched the soapy foam begin to circle down the drain. He wiped his hands on his jeans, eyeing the tall stack of dishes which sat on Ella’s other side. She was right. Even a chipped set of plates didn’t look quite correct in their faded, out of date kitchen. But he only shrugged off the nerves. They were in for it, and there was nothing they could do about it. He came to stand in between Ella’s legs. She brought her arms to rest on his shoulders as he shifted closer.

“I’m working on my positive outlook.”

She snorted a laugh. “Good luck.”

He narrowed his eyes at her. “Well, that wasn’t very convincing.”

“I just don’t know if I’d be able to handle you waking up to a motivational tape every morning,” she said, shrugging.

Jess smirked. “That’s cute. But it’s not 1985 anymore. It would be a motivational CD, at least.”

“Maybe you could start with reading that self-help book again?” she suggested, teasing. “Maybe Luke could bring it up for you on Wednesday?”

“Touché,” he replied.

“Hey,” she began, pressing a quick kiss to his cheek, “I kinda like that you read that book.”

He scoffed. “Why?”

“I don’t know,” she said, searching his face for a moment. “Just seems exactly like something you would do...in a good way. Are you sure you’re okay with seeing your mom and everything?”

“Yeah. I’m fine. I promise,” he said matter-of-factly.

“Okay. But just tell me if you’re not okay. I can kick them out without a second thought,” she said with mock gravity. “There’s a reason I was Luke’s favorite waitress.”

Jess chuckled. “Good to know.”

Then, she took a deep, tired breath. Tilting his head at her, he noticed the constant tinge of pink on her cheeks, and the way she seemed to sit as though the weight of the world was on her limbs.

“You okay, Stevens?” he asked.

“Other than the sense of impending doom...yeah, I’d say I’m doing alright,” she said.

Furrowing his brows, he brought the back of one hand to her cheek.

She groaned in annoyance at his needless concern. “You can’t get all Mother Hen on me now, Mariano. We’ve got pies to bake and a turkey to roast.”

“Elle, if-”

“I’m fine, Jess,” she continued, swatting his hand away when he attempted to move it to her forehead. “It’s just PMS. I have cramps, too. Don’t worry about it.”

After a moment, he finally managed an unconvinced: “Okay.”

.   .   .

Wednesday afternoon brought flurries of snow in stray showers throughout the day. A crisp, biting wind blew through the Philadelphia air, but it still felt a bit warmer than Connecticut to Lorelai. She could already smell the fragrance of pie as they approached the door of Jess and Ella’s apartment. It was odd, to say the least, standing in the dingy, grayish hallway of the building in front of the door, adorned with a rusty ‘7.’ A flash of memory crossed her mind, sitting in the living room of her home, braiding Ella’s hair. She’d warned Ella back then not to get involved with Jess, told her he was trouble. Sometimes, when she heard through the Lane grapevine about fights the two had, Lorelai wondered if she should have done more to protect Ella. She remembered nights comforting her on the couch after her mother died, feeling helpless and unable to get Ella to work through her emotions. Often, Ella would just sit there staring at the television screen, with the same glazed expression no matter what they were watching. Even after Rory fell asleep, Lorelai would stay up with her. Just to be there.

She knew what it was to be alone at such a young age. And she knew what it was to fall for a boy who didn’t deserve you just to escape the isolation. Sometimes, Ella reminded her more of herself than even Rory. But Rory had been on her mind every waking second in those days. And she had, somehow, let Ella slip through the cracks. Go on a rocky path with Jess. Not that it hadn’t turned out alright in the end. Even Luke approved, despite how against it all he had been at first. But Lorelai was still unsure of Jess, even after so many years. She was civil when they crossed paths, but actually spending a day inside the home Ella shared with him was a different matter entirely. All she’d ever seen of him were the angriest, nastiest moments. She didn’t like the idea of Ella having to weather such a storm for the rest of her life, simply because she and Jess had been together for so long.

“You gonna knock, or what?” Luke asked, his wide, expectant eyes flicking between the door and Lorelai. His hands were full of the sides he’d made the day before. One tupperware with garlic mashed potatoes, the other with glazed carrots; he knew how much Ella liked them. She’d always taken the leftovers from the diner when they were offered.

Lorelai nodded. “Yes. Just preparing myself to right walk into a John Hughes movie.”

“I told you, Lorelai,” Luke said gruffly, rolling his eyes. “He’s changed. They both have.”

“I’ll believe it when I see it.”

“Well, you’re getting the chance to. Just please knock on the damn door before my arms give out,” Luke said.

Lorelai scoffed, then raised a gloved hand and knocked. She was surprised how quickly Jess came to greet them, a thin smile on his face as he took their coats and the tupperwares from Luke. He seemed rushed, and there was a pink, checkered apron tied around his hips. It stood out against his otherwise all-black t-shirt and jeans ensemble. She was surprised to see a respectable haircut on his head.

“Hey. Make yourself at home. I gotta make sure the sugar doesn’t burn,” he said, then hurried back into the kitchen as they took off their shoes.

“Thanks,” Lorelai muttered, looking around the place.

It was surprisingly cozy, homey, considering the run-down state of the building. There were a few throw blankets draped over the back of the couch, and cacti planted in small pots on one of the end tables near the sliding glass door. Through it, she could see two mismatched armchairs next to each other on the tiny balcony. Art lined the walls. A few posters, famous photography, paintings and drawings Lorelai could recognize as Ella’s from their mixture of horror and botanicals. Stepping into the living room as Luke immediately offered to help Jess, she spotted a couple pictures in small frames, sitting on the end table sans cacti.

In one, Ella sat on Jess’s lap inside what looked to be a dive bar. Ella’s left arm was hooked around the back of Jess’s neck, and she used her free hand to gesture. Her lips were curling up at the edges as she spoke some word frozen in time. Jess had his head thrown back in laughter at whatever Ella had said. The sight made Lorelai’s eyebrows raise just a touch. She didn’t think she had ever heard Jess truly laugh at anything. The next picture saw Ella and Jess together in a train seat, the scenery passing them by through a small window. They were both asleep, Ella’s head on Jess’s shoulder, and Jess’s head on top of Ella’s. In another, just Ella was in the shot. She was glancing at the camera, not quite smiling but looking serene as she sat on a beach towel, the waves captured in mid-crash behind her. Still, Lorelai’s surprise grew. Ella hated the ocean.

“Nice apron, by the way,” Luke said, smirking at Jess as he rounded the corner to take a seat at the island.

Jess gave a sardonic grin in response, looking down at himself and blushing. “Thanks. Eleanor said it wouldn’t really feel like a pie day without it.”

“Oh, God, the pie days,” Lorelai piped up, groaning fondly at the memory. She came over to take the stool next to Luke. She had to admit, watching Jess stir a pot on the stove in a pink apron like a portrait of Donna Reed made a giggle rise in her throat. “I don’t miss those.”

“You weren’t the one she was waking up before the sunrise to get inside and use your oven because hers didn’t have convection!” Luke argued.

Lorelai snorted. “No, but I was the one who had to hear you rant about it before you gave me my morning coffee.”

“Need I remind you all that we always sold every slice?” Ella chimed in, emerging from the bedroom.

Lorelai smiled as she swiveled around on the stool. Ella wasn’t wearing any makeup and she was dressed in a large flannel and leggings. Her hair was messy and down. Maybe her style had changed since the grunge-goth diner phase.

“Hey! I told you to stay in bed!” Jess said, raising his eyebrows and pointing a wooden spoon at Ella from the kitchen.

Ella rolled her eyes, going over and giving Lorelai and Luke hugs of greeting. “Why would I stay in bed when there’s so much excitement out here?”

She waltzed into the kitchen next to Jess, eyes roaming over the mess of flour and spices and bowls and pie tins he had laid out next to the stove. She could tell by the smell of the apartment the apple was currently in the oven. It looked like he was working on the pecan next.

“Maybe because you just got your appendix taken out, like, twelve hours ago?” Jess said emphatically, eyes widening at her.

“What?” Luke asked.

“Is that why Jess is doing his Leave it to Beaver routine? I thought he was filling in because you were getting ready,” Lorelai said, a startled lilt in her tone. “But instead you just got your organs rearranged?”

“I had a minor surgery and I’m fine now,” Ella said, casual and content. The medicine they’d given her at the hospital hadn’t quite worn off yet, but she had been high around parental figures more than once. She could hold her own. She could even ignore the troubling notions about gender roles deeply ingrained in Lorelai’s comment, in the spirit of keeping arguments to a minimum. She glanced at the mixture Jess was beginning in the big blue bowl. “Just make sure to-”

“I’m following the recipes you gave me,” Jess cut in defensively. “If you’re not gonna stay in bed like you should, can you at least sit down and not backseat bake?”

Lorelai gave the two a suspicious glance. There was the bite in Jess’s voice. The one she could remember so well.

Ella gave a heavy sigh through her nose. Of all the weeks to get appendicitis. Pie-making was probably her favorite part of the winter months. “Fine. But I’m playing my Joni Mitchell record and you can’t complain about it.”

“You’re sick. You’re allowed to play whatever you want. You’re just not allowed to rip your stitches open,” Jess said, shrugging and gaining a teasing tone again. The smirk returned.

“I’m not sick, jackass,” she snapped.

Lorelai pursed her lips, looking over at Luke with eyes full of nostalgia. “Is it just me or have we been transported back to 2002?”

“Seems like it,” Luke mumbled, watching them bicker like they always had.

Before Ella could turn on her heel to leave the kitchen, heading for the record player in the corner of the living room, Jess put down his spoon and stopped her with a: “Hold on.”

“What?” she asked.

He took a couple steps towards her, wiping his hands on the apron before placing his palm on her forehead, feeling how warm it was. Then, he transferred the backs of his fingers to her rosy cheek. “Do you need more Ibuprofen?”

“Not for a couple hours,” she replied, more honest than he was expecting. Banter aside, he could see the fatigue in her glassy eyes. “It’s fine. The doctor said I could have a fever for up to forty-eight hours after surgery.”

“I know. Just checking,” he said, then dropped his hand as she made her way out.

Again, Lorelai’s confusion deepened. She couldn’t hide the crease on her forehead as she furrowed her brows at the interaction. Was Jess really playing nurse? Without complaint?

“I can’t believe you got her to a doctor at all,” Luke said.

Jess scoffed, looking down at the mixture as he stirred. “Only after she passed out on the bathroom floor because her fever was so high.”

“What?!” Luke repeated, instantly panicked.

“Tell them every detail of our lives, why don’t you, chatty Kathy?” Ella grumbled as she put the record on. “I’m fine now.”

A wave of relaxation washed over her as Joni Mitchell’s voice sounded. She went to the couch and threw an old blanket over herself, facing the kitchen.

“My God, Ella. It’s just like that time you broke your arm,” Lorelai said knowingly, going over to join Ella on the couch. She put a comforting hand on Ella’s knee. “Seriously, sweetie, you can’t just expect an organ to abracadabra out of your body.”

“Damn, if only Jess was still doing those magic tricks,” Ella teased in retaliation, narrowing her eyes at Jess as he glared at her through the opening to the kitchen.

Soon, he and Luke were enveloped in their own sporadic, monosyllabic conversation and it made Ella crack a small smile of nostalgia. She raked her hands through her hair as Lorelai began to ask about the apartment, how school was going. It was strange having such a long conversation with her. They hadn’t engaged in their old, pseudo mother-daughter dynamic in a long time. Part of Ella felt as though she were back to being fifteen again. But another part of her felt so elementally different. Able to recognize how much Lorelai had helped her in a way she simply hadn’t been able to comprehend as a teenager. Sure, she was beyond grateful even when she was young. But, now, she wondered if and where she would be if Lorelai hadn’t been there to help her following her mother’s death, or even in her life before. She probably wouldn’t have gotten a job at Luke’s, considering Lorelai was the one who had initially asked Luke to help the Stevens out and give them leftovers every once in a while. Who knew if Ella and Jess would have ever gotten together. The ‘what-ifs’ spinning around in her head only served to fill her heart with warmth for Lorelai. Not only due to the lingering effects of the hospital drugs.

“You said Rory’s still following Obama?” Ella asked, leaning against the side of the couch. She had never had surgery before, and never knew how absolutely exhausted she would be afterwards.

Lorelai nodded, taking a sip of the water Luke had brought her. He was currently fighting to get in the kitchen with Jess, who was still insistent on making the pies entirely by himself.

“Yeah, she’s gonna be with him until the inauguration in January,” Lorelai explained. “She’s Woodward and Bernsteining it up in Chicago right now. They’ve been making stops all around the country for months.”

“Wow,” Ella said, a soft smile still playing on her lips. “She’s really doing it. I can’t even imagine how happy she must be. I mean, I always knew she would. But it’s finally happening.”

“I know. Just a few steps closer to Christian Amanpour,” Lorelai agreed proudly, beaming. “But, hey, you don’t seem to be doing too bad yourself.”

“Yeah. Only a few more months and I’ll finally have that damn degree. The dean’s been talking to me about teaching after I graduate, at least part-time. I don’t know, though. I’m still mulling it over,” Ella said, thinking back to the meetings she’d been having recently. Her own classroom, her own office, her own space to create and guide others to create. And, of course, she could still work making art for Truncheon. The more she thought about it, dreamed about it, and talked it over with Jess, the more she could see herself staying at Penn for longer than just the end of the spring semester.

Lorelai’s face was unreadable for a moment, as she swallowed dryly and looked down into her drink. “And you’re really happy here? This is...this is what you want?”

Ella’s face fell just a touch. She had thought maybe such a question was coming. Lorelai had never loved Jess, never even liked him. Part of Ella thought it was completely understandable. An angry teenager who steals beer and pulls stupid pranks and walks out of town without a word? Dick moves, all of them. But Lorelai had never seen anything else from Jess. She had never made the effort to. She didn’t know him.

As she met Lorelai’s eyes once again, Ella gave a careful, sincere nod. “Really. I get to work on my art every day. I get to collect records and plant cactuses and I get to...I don’t have to live for anyone else. I even get to make pies, when I don’t have nine stitches in my side. I never wanted...I never wanted much else.”

“I know,” Lorelai replied, voice hushed with emotion. She glanced back over at her shoulder at the two men in the kitchen, now begrudgingly tag-teaming the desserts. “And Jess?”

.   .   .

The light was fading to an orangey glow by the time everyone had finished up dessert. Julie, Michael, and the girls had to start the drive to New Britain back almost right after, since Michael had work the following morning. Ella was sad to see them go. They were the ones who made her ache for her mother in a not altogether unpleasant way. The day Ella had lost her mother, Julie had lost her big sister. Forever, the two of them would be linked by the trauma. But not just the trauma. Julie provided a home away from home when Ella needed one. And Ella was a makeshift babysitter whenever Julie called. Julie was the only member of Ella’s family who was truly reliable, the one she could count on. Aside from the family she had found in Philadelphia.

But the apartment was still lively with noise as afternoon slowly melted away into evening. Liz and TJ danced near the kitchen to the sound of the Grateful Dead record on the turntable. Off in their own strange world. Ella didn’t mind. She’d been giving Jess’s hand comforting squeezes all day long, noticing how his shoulders were just a touch more tense and his words came out in short, anxious bursts when he spoke to his mother. He wasn’t completely miserable, though. At least, that was what he told her each time she asked.

Maybe the work of setting up the apartment and serving the food helped, keeping him busy. No matter how many times she tried to help him arrange the card tables for everyone to sit at, or put out the dishes, or clean any noticeably dirty surface, he’d only shrugged her off with some snarky remark and made her sit down. Once Luke and Lorelai got there, she could barely shift in her seat without one of the three pairs of watchful eyes landing on her in concern. It was sweet of them, really, but still made her squirm under their gaze. And pissed that she couldn’t enjoy the first Thanksgiving in the apartment the way she wanted to.

Stomach as full as it could be (the surgery had left her appetite at next to nothing), she sat comfortably on the old couch, Luke and Lorelai in the folding chairs across the card table from her. Luke was busy ranting about how corrupt Black Friday and malls in general were to Lorelai, making a sentimental twinkle spark in Ella’s hazel eyes. She was glad they’d had enough room to fit three tables in the space, with four seats at each. The set-up was arguably too tight, but they’d managed. Erin and Annie had only spilled two cups of milk over the course of the night.

Ella felt a sleepy calm beginning to settle in her body. Through the sliding glass doors, she could see a little sliver of the sunset. Soon, the sky would cloud over and there would be another spray of early snow. The room smelled of wintry spices and hot gravy. Jess still hadn’t reached Luke’s level of perfection, but he had done a pretty damn good job with dinner. And, she had to admit, the pies weren’t too shabby either. It shocked her how seamlessly he had pulled it all off, in his element as he put it together. Though not without a scowl and some huffy breaths.

Ella looked back at Jess, sitting to her left. He held Doula in his arms. She sat on his lap, facing him, as his hands gently supported her back. She was a little over six months old, and almost able to sit up on her own. But, Jess figured it’d be best to keep his hands where they were for some insurance. The baby had somehow tugged the pendant of his necklace out from beneath his shirt, and was alternating between staring at it in wonderment and sucking on it. Jess was having some murmured conversation with her, and she occasionally responded with a gurgle or a coo. Even a laugh when he tickled her stomach.

Ella watched in awe. She remembered how terrified he’d been when he’d first met her nieces, at a Thanksgiving long past. But, now, he handled his sister, along with her nieces, with such ease. He had found a deck of cards for old time’s sake, put on a little magic show for the kids during the lull between dinner and dessert. He’d convinced Annie the smaller half of the wishbone was still lucky when Erin had broken off the bigger half. Just because it didn’t look as big, he said, didn’t mean the magic wasn’t as big. When he realized Ella had caught him saying it, he’d looked away with a scarlet flush and cleared his throat. Sometimes, she could really see the writer in the way he spoke.

“What about Hemingway?” he asked quietly as Doula looked up from the pendant with giant brown eyes and drool dripping down her chin.

Doula gave a little squawk of noise, then swatted one sticky hand up to pat Jess’s face. He scrunched up his nose and chuckled. Then, Doula went back to marveling at the small, circular pendant.

“See?” Jess said, tossing a glance at Ella. He could feel her soft gaze. “Doula likes Hemingway.”

Ella scoffed. “Then her taste is just as bad as her brother’s.”

“Don’t listen to her,” Jess said to the baby, leaning in with a conspiratory whisper. “She likes poetry. Like she can criticize anyone for their taste.”

Narrowing her eyes playfully at Jess, Ella put an arm around his shoulders and inched closer to the two of them. “What about Byron, Doula?”

Doula didn’t look up, instead grabbing the pocket of Jess’s t-shirt in her pudgy fist.

Jess smirked pointedly at Ella.

Ella rolled her eyes. “You’ve taken her to the dark side already.”

“If you mean the right side, then yes,” Jess shot back.

Snorting a laugh, Ella pressed a kiss to Jess’s cheek. Her freckled face became almost wistful. Her raspy whisper near his ear was so sincere it made Jess’s stomach do a flip. “I love you.”

“Love you back,” Jess replied, his voice barely audible over all the others in the room.

She was almost surprised he said anything at all. She hadn’t expected reciprocation with so many people around, and it made a joyful tingling spread from her center out to her fingers and toes. She ran an absent hand through the ends of his hair, a smile painted on her lips.

“Thank you for doing this, Jess,” she said. “You’re the fucking best.”

“Language, Eleanor,” Jess scolded, gesturing playfully to Doula, who still fiddled obliviously with the necklace.

Ella snickered. “Right, sorry, sorry. I’m just...you didn’t have to do all this. I’m sorry about everything. I didn’t mean to go and get appendicitis.”

“It’s not your fault,” he said, eyes still trained carefully on the baby in case something unforeseen happened. He was more confident in his childcare abilities than he had once been, but there was still an untrained fear within him that she would tumble straight out of his lap. “Don’t worry, Stevens. I don’t do things I don’t wanna do.”

“Sure you don’t, James Dean,” she teased. “You’re not a good liar.”

“Look who’s talking,” he quipped in return, a smirk still present on his face. “Besides, it was better than scraping plates in the diner all day at Thanksgiving. After doing that a couple years in a row, it’s pretty much nowhere to go but up from now on.”

“It’s true,” she said. “Maybe I should do the dishes, just in case there’s any rogue knives in the sink.”

“Very funny,” he deadpanned, thinking of the scar which had almost completely faded from his left hand. “But I’m still not falling for it. You’re not helping me clean up. You’re gonna watch Carrie and then fall asleep so we don’t have to go back to the hospital with your guts spilling out.”

“I’m not allowed to swear in front of her, but you’re allowed to say stuff like that?” Ella asked, laughing through her words.

“Hey, I don’t make the rules,” Jess joked coolly.

“You really don’t need to clean up by yourself,” Ella continued, not budging. “My stitches aren’t even in the double digits. I could at least help you put the leftovers away.”

“The next time you find me passed out on the bathroom floor with a high fever, then you can tell me all about how much you want to see me cleaning the apartment,” Jess said.

Her smile disappeared. Sighing through her nose in embarrassment, Ella nodded. She swallowed dryly. “Fair enough.”

She couldn’t have been out for more than thirty seconds or a minute. She didn't hit her head or anything. The bathmat had cushioned her fall almost entirely. But she had never passed out before. She’d felt almost as terrified as Jess sounded when he practically carried down to the car and sped to the emergency room. He was right. If the situation were reversed, there was no way in hell he’d be cleaning up alongside her. Especially not a day and a half after surgery. She had to remember the last time she hadn’t been feeling like herself. With a migraine and period cramps right when she felt as though everyone was expecting the most from her. But it was just in her head. It was okay to let go every once in a while. It was okay. She reminded herself that he wasn’t trying to tell her what to do. He was only asking her to take care of herself. That, she could try. She didn’t ever want to put him out like this again. And she didn’t ever want to see the look she had seen on his face when he’d been driving to the hospital again. Not if she could help it.

“But, if it’ll make you feel better, we can have everyone over next weekend and do Thanksgiving food,” Jess suggested. “Chris was pissed he was missing the pies. I don’t think he’d mind if we had a do-over.”

“Yeah, that sounds good, Mariano,” she said. Then, after a moment’s pause: “I’m sorry. I know I can get so wound up.”

“Oh, really? I hadn’t noticed,” he teased.

“I was just excited for my pies,” she admitted. “But, just for the record, you did a kickass job with them. Sorry I was freaking out.”

“Don’t apologize,” he said with a nonchalant shrug. “So, you’re not a good patient. Who cares? I was excited for your pies too. Just please don’t make rhubarb. All the rhubarb makes me think about is Kirk running naked through the town square that time after Christmas.”

And she felt a beaming smile spread over her face as she laughed and gave him a nod of confirmation. She pressed another kiss to his cheek and told him she would make him any pie he wanted. And she felt even more sure of the words she’d spoken to Lorelai the day before. Lorelai had been surprised to hear them, but Ella couldn’t bring herself to be even the least bit shocked as they’d come out of her mouth. She felt it more confidently than she ever had before, seeing him cradle his baby sister in the aftermath of a Thanksgiving he’d put together all by himself, without being asked. Because Jess was Jess. And it was just what he did. She wanted to spend the rest of her life with him.

[thelastspeecher]

No title because I’m lazy, but in the discord the last couple days, we’ve been discussing the Olympian Falls AU, aka my crossover between the Percy Jackson universe and my nonsense.  And those discussions caused me to get inspired to write...this.  As a quick reminder, this is a modern AU, so instead of Dipper and Mabel being Shermie’s grandkids, they are Shermie’s kids.  Just moved the timeline up a bit.

I think the retcon of making Dipper and Mabel be children of Athena is one retcon I never posted about for this AU, but it is one.  And this retcon means that I can make this an Ace!Shermie AU.  Shermie is hardcore asexual.  Enjoy.

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              Shermie knocked on the door of the apartment his mom had rented after leaving Filbrick a few years ago.  He looked down at the two baby carriers resting by his feet.

              I really hope Mom doesn’t get upset with me for being an unmarried father.  The door opened.

              “Sherman, what a lovely- who are these cute little things?” Ma Pines asked, crouching down to peer into the carriers.  She looked up.  “Are they yours?”

              “…Yeah,” Shermie mumbled, rubbing the back of his neck. “Mom, meet Mabel and Mason.”

              “Adorable,” Ma Pines cooed.  She smiled.  “It’s about time one of you boys gave me some grandkids.  Though I woulda thought it’d be Stan.  He’s the only one of you married so far.”

              “I don’t think Stan even likes kids.”

              “You just say that ‘cause you haven’t spoken to him lately.  I called the other day, and he had to end the call early to play with one of his nieces from his wife’s side.  And he sounded happy about playing with her.”  Ma Pines playfully poked at Mason’s nose.  “These cuties will get themselves some cousins any day now.”

              “Uh, sure.”

              “So, where’s the mother?” Ma Pines asked, standing up.  Shermie grimaced.  “I don’t like that look.  Did she leave you and the kids or somethin’ like that?”

              “Not really- I mean, I guess sort of like it.”

              “Give your mother a straight answer,” Ma Pines said. She crossed her arms.  “You know I don’t like it when people beat around the bush. Where’s the mother?”

              “Mt. Olympus,” Shermie blurted out.  Ma Pines furrowed her brow.

              “…The mountain in Greece?”

              “Yes.  But also, no.”

              “Sherman,” Ma Pines sighed.  “Did you not hear me tell you to be straightforward?”

              “You won’t believe me.”

              “Try me.”

              “Their mom is a goddess,” Shermie said.  Ma Pines raised an eyebrow at him.  “And I don’t mean that metaphorically.  Literally, they have a Greek goddess for a mother.” A moment passed.  Ma Pines stood to the side.

              “Come inside,” she instructed.  Shermie picked up the baby carriers and entered his mother’s apartment.  She closed the door behind him.  Shermie turned to face her.

              “Look, Mom, I-” he started.  Ma Pines held up a hand.  Shermie went silent.

              “Which one did you have an affair with?” she asked. Shermie blinked.  “Was it Aphrodite?  I think my boys could catch the eye of the goddess of love.”

              “I- wh- no, their mom is Athena,” Shermie stammered. He froze.  “Wait, you believe me?”

              “You sound upset about that,” Ma Pines commented. She took Mason’s baby carrier from Shermie and set it on the couch, then sat down next to it to peer at her grandson.

              “No, I’m not upset, I’m- you really believe me?”

              “Why wouldn’t I?”

              “Because most people wouldn’t!”

              “Most people,” Ma Pines said calmly, “haven’t had their own dalliance with an Olympian.”  Shermie joined his mother on the couch, resting Mabel’s carrier on the floor by his feet.

              “Mom…”

              “Stanley and Stanford aren’t your full brothers,” Ma Pines said quietly.  Shermie’s jaw dropped.

              “What?”

              “Filbrick isn’t their father.”  Ma Pines rolled her eyes.  “Thank the gods.”

              “Then who- who-”

              “Hermes.”

              “The Greek god of travelers, thieves, messengers, and a bunch of other things?”

              “Yep.”  Ma Pines looked up from Mason to grin at Shermie.  “That classics degree of yours is really gonna come in handy when it comes to taking care of these two.”

              “I-”  Shermie ran a hand through his hair.  “Why didn’t you tell me?”

              “You didn’t need to know.”  Ma Pines stroked Mason’s cheek gently.  “But now you’ve got demigod children of your own, you do need to know.  By the way, if I remember correctly, children from Athena are basically gifts, right? You didn’t actually sleep with her, you just had a strong emotional connection through your shared intellects.”

              “Uh, yes.”

              “Huh.  She must really like you, then, to have given you twins.”  Ma Pines unbuckled Mason and took him out of the carrier.  “Aw, look at those pretty gray eyes,” she cooed.

              “Mom, how did you know that?”

              “I learned a few things from your brothers.”

              “My half-brothers, you mean.”

              “Still your brothers,” Ma Pines said firmly. Shermie watched her play with Mason for a moment, thinking.

              “That boarding school you sent Stan and Ford to when they were kids,” he started.  Ma Pines looked up.  “Was that a special school for demigods?”

              “Something like that.  It was a camp.  Designed to train demigods on how to use their godly-given abilities and how to protect themselves.  Technically, most demigods only stay at that camp for the summer, but your brothers were enough of a monster magnet together that they had to stay there year-round.”

              “Abilities?”

              “Sweetie, do you really think a child of a god or goddess won’t have some sort of power?”

              “I just didn’t think about- wait, monsters?”

              “Yep.”  Ma Pines played with Mason’s hands.  “Demigods are very good at attracting them.”

              “I-”  Shermie looked down at Mabel, who was still fast asleep.  “Mom, what am I gonna do?”

              “First thing, you’re gonna let me feed you some dinner and play with the babies.”

              “Fair enough.”

              “Second, you need to go talk to one of your brothers.”

              “I haven’t seen either of them since Stan’s wedding.”

              “This’ll be a good chance to catch up, then.”  Ma Pines looked at Shermie.  “Sherman, I can only tell you so much.  If you really want to know about this world you’ve found yourself dragged into, you need to talk to someone who belongs to that world.”

              “…Fine,” Shermie muttered.

              “Oh, don’t get all upset.  If you stop by Stan’s, I’m sure his wife would be more than happy to watch these cute little babies while you talk to him.  Free childcare.”

              “I just-” Shermie sighed.  “I didn’t want to be a dad.”

              “Sometimes these things happen.  Look on the bright side.  You can rub it in Stan’s face that you had kids first.”

              “Why would I rub that in his face?”

              “Because everything’s always a contest with you boys.”  Ma Pines handed Mason to Shermie and stood up.  “Now, how does chicken sound for dinner?”

----- 

              Stan opened the door before Shermie could knock again.  He stared dumbly at Shermie for a few moments before his gaze traveling down to the baby carriers Shermie was holding.

              “Sherm, did you steal those?” Stan asked.  He leaned closer to peer inside the carriers. His eyes widened.  “You forgot to check for babies before you nabbed ‘em.”

              “No I-”  Shermie huffed impatiently.  “I didn’t steal the carriers nor the children.  I purchased the carriers, and the children are mine.”

              “Really?”  Stan frowned at him.  “Didn’t know you were in a relationship.”

              “I’m not.”

              “Ah, one-night stand, I get it.”

              “No, it’s-”  Shermie chewed on his lip.  Mason began to fuss inside his carrier.  “Dang it.”

              “Bring ‘em in, you can check the diaper or whatever inside,” Stan said.  He moved aside, allowing Shermie to walk into the house Stan and his wife, Angie, owned. “By the way, Angie’s not here right now. She had a doctor’s appointment.” Stan closed the door.  “Not to be rude or anything-”

              “Like you’ve ever cared about being rude,” Shermie said, setting the carriers down.  He knelt and removed Mason from the carrier.  Immediately, his son stopped crying.

              I guess he just wanted to be held.

              “Yeah, yeah, whatever.”  Stan eyed Shermie suspiciously.  “What are you doing here, Sherm?”

              “Mom told me to visit.  She said you could offer some assistance with my children.”

              “Assistance?  Angie’s pretty good with kids, since she’s got that huge family, but I only just stopped thinking that they’re a hassle.”  Stan shrugged.  “Maybe I’ve been married long enough to get in the mood for kids or whatever, I dunno.”

              “Well, she said to visit either you or Ford, and you were closer.”

              “Ford?  He’s even worse with kids than I am.”  Stan paused. He raised an eyebrow at Shermie. “Unless there’s somethin’ you’re not tellin’ me.”

              “Mabel and Mason, their mother isn’t…mortal,” Shermie said quietly.

              “Ah.  Okay.” Stan leaned against the wall.  “Who is she?”

              “Athena.”

              “Athena.”  Stan nodded. “Pretty good goddess to have as a parent, as things go.”

              “…Right.”  Shermie swallowed.  “Look, I- I have some questions.”

              “Figures. Let’s go talk in the living room.”  Stan picked up Mabel’s carrier.  “I’ll give you the basic introduction to demigods.”

----- 

              “They’re going to have ADHD and dyslexia?” Shermie asked.  Stan tilted his head one way, then the other.

              “At least one.  I got both, Ford just got the dyslexia.”

              “And why, again?”

              “ADHD makes us better in battle, dyslexia is ‘cause our brains are hardwired for Ancient Greek, not English,” Stan rattled off.  He tickled Mabel’s stomach.  She giggled loudly.  Stan grinned.  “Heh. Cute kid.”

              “Thank you for holding her, by the way.”

              “No problem,” Stan said.  “Anyways, the ADHD and dyslexia.  It’s kinda a crapshoot, honestly.  There’s no way to tell going in which one a demigod will have or how strong it’ll be.  Sorta like how abilities and general godliness or whatever are crapshoots.”

              “What do you mean?”

              “Hmm.  Okay.” Stan leaned back, clearly trying to figure out how to phrase whatever he wanted to say.  “All half-bloods have some enhanced stamina and strength and stuff like that, since we have godly blood.  But abilities we have on top of the basics depends upon who our godly parent is.  Like, Hephaestus kids are good at building things, and Demeter kids are good at growing plants.  Make sense?”

              “Yes.”

              “But even if people have the same godly parent, they might have different abilities.  I can pick locks with my mind.”

              “Wait, you can?”

              “Yeah.  But Ford can’t.”  Stan frowned. “Another example…there was this one Apollo kid who could make light.  Technically, it’s possible for a kid of Apollo to do that, but it’s really, really rare.  He was the only one in the last century who could do it.”  Stan looked at Shermie.  “Still following me?”  Shermie nodded.

              “I do have a question.”

              “I might have an answer.”

              “Are abilities correlated with the dyslexia and ADHD?  Ford’s dyslexia isn’t that bad, and you implied he wasn’t as powerful as you.”

              “I…”  Stan blinked. “That’s a good question.  I’ve never thought of it that way.  But yeah, most of the powerful demigods I’ve known have both ADHD and dyslexia.  I mean, I can think of a couple exceptions off the top of my head, but in general, you might be right.  Huh. Something to talk to Ford about.” Stan waved a hand.  “He started this group with some other half-bloods where they try to do research into demigod abilities or whatever.  I dunno exactly what they do.  I just show up and let them run tests on me if they ask.”

              “Mom mentioned something about the camp usually being only for the summer.”  Stan nodded. “But you stayed there year-round.”

              “Ford and I were too powerful together.  On our own?  Maybe we coulda been fine out in the mortal world, not attracted monsters. Ford definitely would have.  He was always a more subtle half-blood.  But we didn’t want to be separated, and our combined demigod smells attracted monsters like we were an all-you-can-eat buffet.”  Stan watched Shermie look down at Mason, who was fast asleep in Shermie’s arms.  “You’re worried about your kids.”

              “Yeah.”

              “Athena kids are usually able to go home for the school year.  Most half-bloods can.”

              “But if they’re twins-”

              “You’ve got a while before you have to worry about monsters for them.”

              “But-” Shermie started again.  The front door opened.

              “Stan,” a voice sang cheerfully.  Stan beamed.  “I have some news fer- oh.”  Shermie looked up.  His sister-in-law had pranced into the living room, and seemed surprised to see Shermie on her couch.  “I see we have a guest,” Angie said.

              “Three guests,” Stan corrected, helpfully pointing at the baby he was holding.  Angie gasped.

              “Oh, goodness, what a precious lil bean!” she gushed, making a beeline for the couch.  “Wow. Adorable!”  Angie looked over at Mason.  “A real pair of lookers.  Are these yours, Sherman?”

              “Yes.”

              “They’re quite the cuties.”

              “Thank you,” Shermie said politely.  He liked his sister-in-law well enough.  She seemed to be a bit of a ditz at times, and had much higher energy than Shermie liked to be around, but Angie was always kind to him.

              And she’s excellent with children. Shermie watched Angie coo over Mabel. Is she really a ditz?  Or just easily distracted?  I’m not quite sure.

              “Ang, you have news?” Stan asked.  Angie blinked.

              “Oh!  Yes.” She glanced over at Shermie, then back at Stan.  “I’ll tell ya later.  Don’t let me forget.”

              “You got it.”

              “Gosh, what a cute sweet potata,” Angie whispered, stroking Mabel’s hair.  She cocked her head.  “Sherman, did yer mother send ya here?”

              “I- yes.  She did.”

              “She wanted you to get some advice from Stan, I take it?”

              “How did you know that?” Shermia asked.  Angie looked at him.

              “Because this baby girl of yours has the kind of gray eyes I’ve only ever seen in children of Athena,” she said bluntly. Shermie’s jaw dropped.

              Okay, she’s definitely not a ditz.

              “You know about all this Greek stuff?”

              “Sure do.”

              “I’m assuming Stan told you.”

              “Mm.  Not quite.” Angie grinned crookedly.  “Where do ya think I first met Stan?” she asked. Shermie rubbed his face.

              “You met each other at camp, didn’t you?”

              “Yep.”

              “…You wouldn’t happen to be a child of Athena, would you?”

              That was a remarkably clever move she just pulled.

              “Nope!” Angie chirped.  She flopped down onto the couch next to Stan and took Mabel from him.

              “Hey!” Stan protested.  Angie cooed at Mabel sweetly.  “Ask!”

              “Nah.  If I asked, you wouldn’t have handed her over.  My gods, she is so cute.”  Angie looked at Stan, a twinkle in her eye.  “I think that Shermie’s kidlets would love themselves a cousin.”

              “I don’t think these babies know what a cousin is,” Stan replied.  Angie rolled her eyes.

              “Oh, that reminds me, Stan,” Shermie said, abruptly remembering his mom’s comment about everything being a contest.

              “What?”

              “I had kids first,” Shermie said.  Stan’s eyes widened.  “Yeah. I win.”  Stan slapped his forehead with the palm of his hand before shouting in frustration.

              “Goddammit!”

[pinewreaths]

The Signal, Part Four

[Previous]

[Gravity Scars AU]

“Can this be portable in the next three minutes?”

Ford stammered for a second, then blurted out “M-maybe? Stanley, this is a complicated piece of machinery, to say nothing of the fixed location of the rail antennae conductors we installed-”

There was a garbled burst of static from the radio, a whispering breathy noise audible even through the rumble of the train car.

He turned back to his brother triumphantly. “See? It’s already producing measurable results!”

Grunkle Stan gritted his teeth. “Sixer, if this contraption isn’t portable in two and a half minutes, we’re going to have God knows what sort of special forces knocking violently on the door, and I suspect they won’t give a damn what sort of ‘measurable results’ you’ve found.”

His eyes glittered dangerously for a moment. “Take it from a lifelong criminal element, Ford: know when to cut and run. This is one of those times.”

The twins locked eyes for a moment, before Ford threw up his hands in a frustrated sigh. Dipper was already working on hooking up another boxy device to the radio set, as Ford began to yank cushions out of the seat after voicing his approval.

“Good plan. Let me cut an entry hole for the cabling, and I think we can still receive a strong signal if you wire the transmitter antenna wire up the back of the seat.” He flipped open a futuristic-looking pocketknife, and a three-inch plasma blade hissed into life. There was a puff of acrid smoke, and then a sizzle as it cut a neat scorched hole in the side of the plastic chair housing. The radio and associated devices were quickly unplugged, nestled into the normally-inaccessible space below the seat. Cables were reattached, and the whole affair was then hidden by the replacement of the seat panel and cushion.

Dipper triumphantly hefted what looked like a misshapen walkie-talkie, and clicking the power on resulted in a familiar crackle of static.

Stanley, who had been watching his wristwatch the whole time and tapping an impatient foot, clapped his hands together.

“Great! Now, our guests have almost arrived, so it’s time to find a hiding place, or barring that, a place we can make a quick disembark from.”

Even as he spoke, the sound of the helicopter rotors was clearly audible over the background noises of the traincar. Maybe it was Dipper’s imagination, but he could almost already hear the sound of footsteps across the top of the car.

Making their way out of the cabin and down the hallway to the next car, Dipper continued fiddling with adjustments to the controller, occasionally passing it back and forth between him and Ford as they tried to tune into the right settings.

Ford grimaced as they ducked past a family with squealing toddlers and a very harangued-looking mother and father. “Oh come on: we’re working with almost a hundred and fifty miles of contiguous tracks, so there’s got to be some combination that can-”

Abruptly, the static that had been fading overall as Ford and Dipper adjusted the settings this way and that died, replaced by a clearly-audible yet quiet breathing. Ford gave a whoop of excitement, echoed by Dipper even as other passengers within earshot gave them odd looks.

The excitement was cut short by the set of thumping boots on the traincar roof, clear and distinct even before the sound of a drill began in earnest. The first screw of the overhead hatch dropped to fall at the Pines family’s feet.

“Move then talk,” Grunkle Stan nearly chanted, as he grabbed his brother by one wrist and Dipper by the other to yank them behind him towards the next car. “Move, then talk.”

It wasn’t until three cars later that Stan finally stopped, and ushered the others into an empty cabin. After cautiously glancing out and then lowering the blinds, he finally took a cautious sigh of relief.

“Okay, I think we’ve bought some time. Not much time, of course, but some.”

Mabel cocked her head. “Why didn’t we go all the way to the back?”

Leaning back in the seat, Stanley chuckled and grinned.

“Because they’re probably expecting us to high-tail it out of there. If I were them, I’d have put a team down on our car, on the rear, and probably one at the front, just to be safe.” He nodded towards the closed and shuttered door. “They’ll be sweeping towards each-other, so picking the midpoint between our original cabin and the back of the train gives us the most time to work with before they reach us.”

Mabel made a little “Oooooh” of understanding, before going to meet Dipper and Ford over by the handheld controller and receiver. The breathing was still audible, and so with a careful slow breath of his own, Dipper tensed, and thumbed the ‘Send’ button.

“Uh, h-hello there?”

There were a lot of things the Pines might have expected the entity on the other side to do, ranging from horrible nightmare-inducing shocks to outright ignoring them.

What they hadn’t expected was an almost girlish shriek of alarm.

“Gaaah! What the hell?”

“Uh, who is this? We received your earlier message, but-”

“D-Dipper? It’s me! It’s Tyrone! Holy crap, I wasn’t able to sustain the radio signal strength, and was catching my breath to try again!”

“Wel, we boosted the receiver strength, so we could-” Dipper paused.

“Wait, ‘catch your breath’? Tyrone, we’ve been out of contact with you for half a week. H-How long have you been resting?”

There was an echoing chuckle. “An hour, maybe two: It was a draining experience. I’m not surprised the time dilation stuff is weird, given the weirdness of my general living situation.”

This time Grunkle Ford cleared his throat and spoke up.

“Tyrone, it’s Ford. Uh, your Grunkle; not that we’ve spoken before, but yes, well, it’s never too late to make a first impression and all that-”

Tyrone’s voice chuckled through the radio.

“Hi Grunkle Ford. Nice to, well, nice to meet you at long last. What’s up?”

“Well, Tyrone, I’ve spoken with many a ghost in my day, but you’re-well, you’re different. You’re in between the Void and our dimension, rather than haunting our dimension like most spirits. You age as well: you’re the same age as Mabel and Dipper from the sounds of it, rather than un-aging at the time of your death. And speaking of death-”

The temperature in the cabin seemed to drop a few degrees as Ford asked. “-how did you become a ghost? You don’t sound purpose or vengeance-driven, so how and why are you here?”

“I...I’m not sure. It was ages, years, before I had even begun to realize what I was, what had happened. At times, it seemed like moments would pass you two by as I struggled to survive a rush of months.” The voice on the other end of the radio took a deep, heavy breath.

“It wasn’t until Dipper used the copy machine that I found out what my name should have been. When those clones died, either then or in the woods in the weeks afterwards in the Oregon fall rains, I was nearby, and was able to absorb a part of them in their passing. It gave me memories: not enough to recall everything, but enough to boost my awareness from a half-remembered fever dream to my current, still-trapped state.”

“Let’s just say that I believe Pact has more than a little to do with it. He enabled me to even speak at all in this trapped state, an event I have been looking forward to for a long time. In any case, it sounds like it also spent my remaining bargainable wish uses with the demon as well.”

There was a long pause, each of the Pines members with their jaws open in shock. Finally Stanley gave a low whistle.

“Well hell, kid, it sounds like you’ve been in some real shit then. Heh.” The trademark grin returned. “Welcome to the family!”

There was a clatter from outside the cabin, as the door on one end of the traincar slid open. Stan straightened, squinted out, and swore before ducking back down.

“Well, it’s both better and worse than I feared: it’s the Feds.”

“Wait, ‘Feds’ as in ‘Federal agents?” Ford snorted. “We’ve beaten them before. What’s the bad news?”

“That it’s not simple mercenaries. Mercs, I can deal with: Offer enough resistance, enough of a payday, and they’ll look the other way. Feds, though, are tenacious. They’re paid by the hour.”

He sighed. “The over-under is that we’re less likely to get shot if they find us, but the downside is that they’re way more likely to find us.”

Reinforcing his point was the distant sound of a cabin door sliding open and a muffled, barked conversation. Stanley looked off in the direction of the search, before turning back to their own cabin window.

“Hey, Mabel honey, how long does that trip app of your say it was going to be until we’re over another body of water?”

Mabel tapped on her phone a few times, wincing. “Uh, Grunkle Stan, I don’t suppose we’d be okay for, say, another 47 minutes?”

He snorted. “Mabel, sweety, I think we’d be in trouble in another four minutes.” He stepped over to their window, looking out at the view of the forest racing by and muttering to himself.

“Hmmm. Lots of boulders, thin grass, and treeline doesn’t start for another three hundred feet.” He eyed the window opposite of the door, across the exterior hallway from their door.

“Thick bushes, and almost immediately after that is the treeline. Best chance we’re gonna get, I think.”

He clapped and rubbed his hands together. “All right, Pines! We are making out exit, via that window,” he said, pointing. “Departing ASAP. Dipper and Sixer, you ready to scram?”

Tyrone’s voice was tight and panicked, but Dipper did his best to reassure him.

“Hey, Ty, it’ll be alright: if we were able to do this once, we can do it again. So we’ll talk soon, okay?”

There was a disappointed acknowledgement, and Dipper reluctantly snapped the set off.

“Great. Now, if we go piecemeal there’s a chance we’ll be tackled once they spot us. So, instead we’re going all together. On three, okay?”

The others nodded.

“One.”

Dipper and Mabel tensed, and Ford put on a pair of goggles pulled from one of his myriad pockets.

“Two.”

Dipper grabbed Mabel’s hand for a squeeze, the bracelets tapping together.

Good luck, Mabes. I love you.

Love you too, brobro., and good luck to you as well.

“Three!”

The cabin door almost burst open from the four bodies pushing through it. Dipper abstractedly heard a shout of alarm, but he was focused on the one step, then two, then tree, and the leap he took after Stan leapt. The window spiderwebbed and resisted for a moment before the combined weight of both older twins punched through, popping the window out of it’s frame.

Carried forward in mid-jump, Dipper and Mabel soared through the opening, and Dipper saw a flash of white and blue and grey and brown before something hit him like a jackhammer and everything went dark.

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