#but my god is ford so much more vulnerable without stan
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tried my hand on stancest meta but tumblr ate up my draft that was a fullblown essay like the functioning app that it is, so i'm just going to post my twitter screenshots here lmao
#stancest#tldr: ik alex said ford and stan desperately need each other and thats very very true#but my god is ford so much more vulnerable without stan#stan was such an important emotional pillar to ford that bill directly acknowledges that he isnt here to steer ford away from his plans#bill does a lot to try to gst ford to forget about stanley#from calling him inferior and saying if ford lets him back in#he would mooch off of ford#to âconvinientlyâ forgetting to mention stan in the list of people ford can't turn to#as fiddleford abandoned him his dad doesnt want him and he has no other friends#like the lack of mention in stan in that was GLARINGLY obvious#stan being bill's biggest threat when it comes to ford is pretty gay but also just says so much about how much weaker ford is w/o him
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Bitter and Sick - Chapter Three
After tons of editing and rewrites, itâs finally done! I really hope you like this as much as i did writing it! There are tons of journal 3 references in here, so keep your eyes peeled! I always keep a copy next to me for fun. Also, Iâm considering writing a Stan Spin-off, during his time in the 70s and 80s as a struggling businessman.Â
âRating: M
âGravity Falls/Rick and Morty
~Diagnosed with terminal brain cancer, Stanford Pines is forced to reflect on past regrets and experiences that bring him back to one person. A narcissistic sociopath who saved his life~
~Chapter Three~
âŚ
One Week Earlier
âŚ
âMr. Mystery, youâre full of surprisesâŚâ
Stan parted lips with his score, a devilish grin spread across his bold face. It was moments like these that the title had its perks, it wasnât everyday a beautiful woman entered the gift shop with a purpose.
âBabyâŚthe tour doesnât end hereâŚâ
Coarse hands gripped her hips as his tongue explored her mouth, strong arms wrestling her to the desk. Neglected stacks of cash scattered across its surface, and a change counter that was a little too out of date fell carelessly to the floor. Neither seemed to mind, Stan already sliding his large hand beneath her silk blouse.
Quiet moans elicited from both parties, her hands making quick work of removing his jacket and tie. She began to struggle with the buttons on his shirt, leaving heated kisses across his chin.
Stan chuckled, loosening his belt with his free hand. âYouâre about to be one lucky ladyâŚâ
His belt cracked like a whip as he dropped it to the floor, a low growl forming In his throat as her frail hands reached to unzip his pants.
Without warning, the door to the office swung open, both defensively attempting to cover themselves at the intrusion.
Stanford Pines took a step back in embarrassment, heat crossing his already pink nose. Itâs not like it was the first time heâd caught his brother in such a compromising position, they did unfortunately share a bedroom in their youth.
âPardon my intrusionâŚâ, Ford choked, the sound almost close to the squeak of a small door mouse. He gripped the side of the door, averting his gaze as he started to shut it.
Stan adjusted his glasses in irritation, re-zipping his pants. âWaitâŚâ.
The slight creak of the door stopped, Ford turning bloodshot eyes back to his brother. He avoided looking directly at the visitor, but noticed sheâd started to gather her purse and coat in frustration. He was pretty sure he heard her mutter something about âWasted timeâ and âBus fareâ, which made him feel a lot more confident in his choice to stay.
Stan reached for his jacket, sliding a few bills beneath the lining of her jeans. A loud smack echoed through the shop as he slapped her rear in amusement, a wide grin plastered on his face. She was in no way enjoying this, a look of pure hatred focused in Fordâs direction.
Ford stepped aside for her like a proper gentleman, a smirk gracing his exhausted features. âDonât forget to come back now, â he managed to say, receiving the middle finger in direct response.
The gift shop door slammed behind her as she made her way to the exit, leaving the two face to face in the office door away.
Stan was close enough to finally get a cold hard look at his brothers disheveled features, the heavy bags under Fordâs eyes brought him back to that December chill almost forty years ago.
âYouâre not sleeping againâŚâ
Ford bit his lip, he knew he was a mess. Heâd just spent over an hour staring back at his own horrid reflection in the mirror. It had been weeks since heâd shaved, the thick stubble irritating his cheeks.
The stench of cold sweat was caught in Stanâs nose, and he guessed it had been days since Ford had even had a decent shower. He chose to ignore it, buttoning up the top few buttons of his shirt.
Ford was thankful, the blinding reflection of Stanâs medallion disappearing behind his collar. He opened his mouth to reply, raising a six fingered hand to push his glasses back into place.
âYouâd be making friends with the coffee maker too, if you had my dreamsâŚâ
Stan closed the office door behind them as they reentered the gift shop, a normal quiet Monday leaving them both alone amongst the various trinkets and poorly handmade merchandise.
Ford followed him to the registers, picking up one of the âMr Mysteryâ bobble heads in mild curiosity. He grazed his thumb over the plastic, the cheap paint already seemed to be fading with age. There was time when he resented his brother for this ridiculous attraction he created, but heâd come to admire the intricate thought and detail that came with every new ridiculous oddity he invented.
Stan stopped at the register behind the narrow counter, and popped open the drawer with a quick turn of the brass key hung amongst the countless others that all seemed so familiar to the author.
Ford placed the bobble head back down on the shelf, turning back to his brother with a heavy mind. âStanley?â
The larger man paused, a large finger slipping underneath a stack of twenty dollar bills. âHmm?â
Ford tensed and rubbed the back of his head, âI need you to knowâŚthat Iâm thankfulâ.
Stan released a rasped chuckle, âFor what? Me stealing your fucking houseâŚâ
Fordâs mouth gaped open to speak, but he was cut off by his brotherâs irritated expression as he shoved the cash back into the drawer.
âStanleyâŚIâŚâ
âYou what? Want me to pack my bags? Wanna kick the kids out to?â
âTheyâre happening again, StanleyâŚâ
The room was silent, the two old men sharing puzzled expressions. Neither having the words to say to break the tension in the air.
Stan was the first to speak, memories flooding back from that terrifying night. The vulnerability of leaving his mind so open. A foggy remnant of a moment where his priorities were clear, and he was willing to sacrifice his own sanity for the children heâd come to care so much for.
âHe canât be aliveâŚâ
âI know, StanleyâŚâ
âYou donât understand. I killed that fucker myselfâ.
âŚ
Present Day
âŚ
Smoke clouded the gentle breeze that filled the late summer air, dancing itâs way from the roof of the hospital. The quiet melody of seagulls loomed overhead, a sound heâd become accustomed to after spending the last year on open waters.
Stan Pines let out a haggard breath, a lit cigarette held between gritted teeth. An old habit, one that he always seemed to return to in times of stress. Sixer had his ways of dealing with his anxiety, and Stan had his own secrets. There was a reason why he kept a few bags of marijuana stashed in the safe, and may have taken a couple vicodin to numb more than just his body.
His hands shook violently as he grasped the butt of his cigarette, dropping his arm lazily to his side. He exhaled, pulling the corners of his beanie over his ears to protest the breeze.
It had been almost 48 hours since Ford has lost consciousness, and the wait was murder. Stan hadnât left his side for the first 24, and Wendy had to persuade him to at least head back to the shack and get a shower and new clothes. And now here he was, having a mental breakdown on the roof of the hospital.
Aside from a bag of chips Wendy had snagged him from the vending machine, he hadnât had a decent meal in almost 2 days. His stomach groaned at the thought, and he gripped it in irritation. It was flatter than he remembered, the time oversea with Ford had been healthy for not only his mind but his body as well.
Stan took another drag of his cigarette, his nerves steadying to a point of content, honey eyes surveying the horizon.
âGrunkle Stan!â
He turned abruptly, flicking his current emotional support to the ground in favor of a healthier one.
Mabel was staring back at him from the roof exit, her eyes swelled with tears, faced flushed and exhausted from crying. Her soft brown eyes quivered, making a mad dash to his broad open arms.
He knelt down to received her hug, running a large hand through her hair to ease the tension. She continued to cry salty tears into his chest. The strong smell of salt water was soothing and she inhaled it from his jacket, ignoring the also obvious smell of nicotine smoke.
âHey, SweetieâŚâ he released a slight cough, hugging her tighter in response. He couldnât find anything else to say to calm her tears, his own mind racing due to lack of sleep.
And it was at that moment that every little tightly boarded corner of his tough emotional exterior cracked, and the tears came. They started slow, and turned into gross sobs of distress. The stubble of his chin running past her forehead as he hugged her closer, nearly crushing her in the moment.
In shock, Mabel hugged his neck, his significantly longer silver hair passing through her tiny fingers.
âItâs okâŚâ she choked, fighting to reassure them both between her own sobs.
Stanâs body trembled, knowing he shouldnât be here. He should be at Fordâs side, praying to a God he didnât believe in that those six fingers would twitch back to life and laugh it off like it was some kind of sick joke.
They were both broken from their bond, the sound of the exit door sliding open raked through their ears. A panting Wendy stood there, face paler than usual.
âHeâs awake!â
âŚ
Darkness.
He recognized the void of his own mind, the calm and orderly emptiness. But the darkness was new.
Lifting himself from a seated position, Ford reached to ease another migraine, only to find that there was no pain. He breathed a sigh of relief, narrowing his eyes to attempt to see through the endless black.
Am I deadâŚ
This was no surprise to him if it were true, he honestly deserved so much worse.
So this is how it all endsâŚ
A light fog began to lift around him, brightening the darkness but limiting his peripheral vision. His body buckled in confusion, searching for anything he could hold on to, something corporeal other than his own body.
The darkness faded into a starry night sky, familiar constellations overcrowded by the infinite possibilities beyond. He reveled in that feeling, and felt at home.
He looked down at his hands, puzzled as he was once again dressed in his black coat and sweater, the cold heavy metal of his quantum destabilizer strapped to his back.
Was this all a dream? Did I never make it home?
The fog slowly lifted, the faint smell of gunfire and alienistic screams clouded his senses. He lifted a knife from his belt, a deep familiar laughter echoing through the air. He could hear and smell war, but what he saw was only space;cold, wide, and beautiful.
âYou came backâŚâ
Ford panicked as a cold hand touched his shoulder, turning to come face to face with a worn and beaten Rick. His eyes sunken with exhaustion, drained from alcohol withdrawal.
âRickâŚI didn'tâŚâ, he shook violently, looking for any kind of excuse to save himself. âI didnât mean to leave you, but the portal-â
âFUCK THE PORTAL!â
Rickâs voice deepened, echoing throughout the vast emptiness. His eyes sagged, dried blood and various scars covering his face and arms. He was beaten and broken, a large gash sealed with a tourniquet over his shoulder.
Ford parted his lips to speak, but nothing came out. A painful reminder of his biggest mistake stood before him, and he was paralyzed.
âYou left me here. Not a goodbye, not a fucking word. You left me to dieâŚâ
Ford backed away, ready for the blow. He welcomed it, he deserved more. All that wasted time spent traveling the multiverse, gaining his trust, heâd never meant for it to end this way.
âIâm sorryâŚâ
Rick pulled his fist, no remorse or the slightest sign of retraction.
âYOU RUINED MY LIFE!â
You ruined my lifeâŚ
Heâd heard that before. The words digging like knives in his already fragile heart. But this time he didnât argue, eyes rolling back into his skull as Rickâs punch landed across his heavy jaw. He stumbled to the ground, a sharp pain accompanying the oncoming migraine that he was so used to.
Ford seethed, adjusting his jaw as he struggled to look back up at his friend. His face paled at the view before him. Eyes a yellow field, slits like knives.
No. Not himâŚ
A shrill laugh pierced Fordâs ears, horrified as Rick emitted that monstrous voice that was obviously not his own.
He attempted to crawl away, the world around him spinning and hazed. He slowly lost consciousness, the color yellow the last thing burned into his eidetic memory as the world went black.
Fear the beast with just one eyeâŚ
âŚ
The sound of hushed voices reached his ears, his eyes still adjusting to the sunlight that filled the room.
âFord you idiot!â
Ford assumed the voice was Stanleyâs, and his theory was correct as he felt his brothers large arms pull him into a tight embrace. He could smell the faint stench of nicotine on his breath, and realized he must have been unconscious way too long for comfort.
Stan pulled away, reaching in his pocket for a pair of glasses, frames slightly cracked on the corner. Ford happily accepted them, grunting as vision returned.
Mabel and Dipper smiled back at him from the edge of the bed, Wendy eying him but chatting quietly on her phone.
âYou scared us half to death!â Mabel squeaked, bright eyes locked on his. Her braces shined in the sun, the glare itching his tired eyes.
Ford leaned back, becoming self aware of the various drugs running through his system. His sweater was gone, his various scars and tattoos visible from the fabric of the fitted hospital gown. He wanted to run, feeling vulnerable and wide open to criticism, but he settled on the fact that he was surrounded by family and friends. The paranoia faded, and he gave in to the medication.
âHey, you hungryâŚâ Stan questioned, his body shifting on the edge of the bed.
As if on queue, Fordâs stomach groaned in reply. He was reminded that even before heâd lost consciousness that it had been almost 2 days since heâd had a decent meal. He nodded, the mattress lifting as Stan lead the kids to the exit.
âIâll stay with him, â Wendy assured to Stan, finishing her phone call and pocketing the device.
The door closed behind them, Ford a little more at ease now that he wasnât the focus of numerous stares. The migraine was gone, replaced by the cold hard pinch of the metal plate at the base of his skull.
âThank youâŚâ
Wendy was surprised by his gratitude, shrugging it off. âI just got off the phone with Soos. I didnât want to bother them on their honeymoon, but heâs glad youâre okâŚâ
Ford agreed, Soos and Melody deserved the time together. Theyâd been saving enough for the trip, and it would be a tragedy to have them head home from Hawaii so soon.
âYou can thank me by answering a simple questionâŚâ
Ford tensed, adjusting himself so he could see her better. The throbbing pain may be gone, but the horror of his dreams still lingered.
Wendy crossed her legs, folding her arms over her chest. Her green eyes shined with curiosity.p âWho is Rick?â
âPardon me?â
The room grew silent, both of them exchanging puzzled stares, neither willing to let this go. Wendy was the first to crack a response, brushing a strand of red behind her hair.
âBefore you passed outâŚyou called me, Rick? Does that name mean anything to you?â
Ford had no recollection of speaking his name, only the oncoming darkness. It was likely the lack of sleep was affecting his mental state, it wouldnât be the first time heâd hallucinated.
âA friend. He was a friendâŚâ
Wendy was intrigued, making her way to the edge of the bed. She took her time, carefully not to irritate his weak body by shaking the mattress.
âWhat was he like?â
Ford chuckled at the question, lifting a hand to run a finger over her cheek. Heâd become quite fond of her over the two years since heâd been back, she was almost like a daughter to him. Although heâd never admit it, not willing to start a feud with her actual father.
âYou would have hit it offâŚâ
She leaned in, teasingly. âSpit it out old manâŚI want all the detailsâŚâ
Ford blushed, some of those details he wasnât entirely sure were appropriate. Some, he wasnât even sure he even believed.
Wendyâs eyes widened in sudden realization, eyes traveling to his neck. He noticed her gaze shift, the blush on his cheeks reddening. Sheâd discovered his biggest regret, his neck tattoo.
She grazed her fingers over it, laughing at the adorable cartoon star that was still fresh on his skin. The lyrics âHey now, Iâm an All Starâ surrounding the smiling animated character.
âWas Rick responsible for this?â
Ford choked, pulling the covers close in embarrassment. He would kill for a comfort bag of jelly beans, not too keen on remembering the 30 years prior.
âUnfortunatelyâŚâ
âŚ
Ford downed another shot of whiskey, hand grazing over the rim of the glass. The crowds and over cranked pop music ringing in his ears.
This wasnât his type of crowd, but the urge for a mind numbing scotch or whiskey was too good too pass up.
He was positive that the woman across the room was watching him with interest, but he avoided eye contact, much more interested in getting wasted than social interaction.
His thumb graced the creases of the old photograph, the tattered image of a young Stan and himself staring back at him.
Fifteen yearsâŚit had been fifteen years since heâd been running. Fifteen years of scrounging and fighting for food and shelter, of stealing and lying. The days just dragged on, and he would get just a little bit older.
âPines!â
Ford flinched, the seat to his left quickly being taken. Silver hair with chestnut streaks came in to view, and he rolled his eyes as he realized who he was addressing.
âRick..â
The name fell flat on his mouth, in a tone that sounded almost irritated. Ford was not ready for this interaction, and was definitely not in the mood for games.
âTwo more for my partner here, and a couple for myselfâŚâ Rick shouted to the bartender, winking suggestively. She rolled her eyes in response, sending Ford a concerned look.
Ford nodded in approval, giving her a slight bit of comfort for his safety.
Rick turned in his chair to get a good look at him, eyes raking over his disheveled form.
âDamn. Even, when youâve been through shit you still look fineâŚâ
Ford downed the next shot as soon it was placed in reaching distance, wanting to just take the whole damn bottle and down it all at once. Rick was already intoxicated, his lack of proper judgement even more impaired than usual.
Rick grinned and leaned a little closer, his voice suggestive and near to a whisper.
âHow drunk would you need to be to let me bend you over this counter right now?â
A heated blush crossed Fordâs cheeks and he choked, making his best attempt to retain a calm exterior. He formulated a blatant lie, downing the second shot whole.
âI prefer to have someone of the female persuasion in my bedâŚâ
âBullshitâŚâ
Itâs true, it was Bullshit, but he wasnât about to admit it, especially to Rick. Heâd have a field day with the news and never let it go.
Ford tucked the old photograph in his jacket, reaching for a shot only to realize heâd finished them. The bartendender was busy filling other drinks, leaving him without a security blanket.
Somebody once told me the world is gonna roll me..
He untensed, the familiar tune passing through his throat in a gentle hum. It was a common practice to deal with his social anxiety, one he utilized more often than not. He may even have a walkman stashed in his bag, but heâd never tell a soul that one.
Rickâs unibrow rose, roaring with laughter. âFuck me. You like this song?â
Ford rolled his eyes, raising an arm to the free bartender. He needed some stimulation, and he needed it now.
She was looking kind of dumb with her finger and her thumbâŚ
âSorry, sixer. You just donât struuuuuurpâike me as someone who would appreciate modern musicâŚâ
âDonât pretend to know meâŚâ
The empty glasses were replaced with two more, and he groaned in relief, downing both in seconds. The buzz was starting to take effect, and his body loosened, fingers tapped against the empty glass along with the song.
Didnât make sense not to live for fun. Your brain gets smart but your head gets dumbâŚ
âHow about a challenge?â, Rick grinned as he downed his last shot, arm leaning suggestively against the counter. The leather of his jacket creaked, his undershirt dipping and giving off a full view of his chest hair.
Ford swallowed, adams apple uncomfortably shifting in response. âEnlighten meâŚâ
â30 shotsâŚâ, Rick burped, lifting his empty glass as a token. âLoser gets a tattoo, and the winner gets to design itâŚâ
Fords ego increased, his already questionable judgement impaired by the alcohol. âIâll take that betâŚâ
Youâll never know if you donât go. Youâll never shine if you donât glowâŚ
He was positive he was the less intoxicated of the two, and his confidence grew as the bartender poured them their shots. Her expression still concerned for his health, the attention causing him to anxiously run a polydactyl hand through his chestnut hair.
Rick noticed the tension, mild jealousy forming. He made a note to get her fired later, slamming his first shot on the counter in excitement. âOneâŚtwoâŚâ
He cheated, downing the first glass before getting to âthreeâ. He received a scowl from Ford in response, who was doing surprisingly well at catching up.
Hey now, youâre an all-star, get your game on, go playâŚ
The tenth shot stung as it went down, Ford clenching his teeth at the burn. He hadnât entirely taken into account how many shots heâd had prior, and this was starting to look foolish on his part. Rick on the other hand was on his fifteenth shot, not a shudder or sign of surrender.
âGive up yet, Fordsie?â
The older man seethed, downing his thirteenth shot in desperation, taking any chance he could to catch up. He could tell Rick was starting to take it easy on him, and the knife to his ego hurt more than the actual loss.
Even taking his time, Rick was already at his twenty-fifth, already scheming the results of his victory. He watched in amusement at Ford began to falter at twenty, nearly tossing it up as it went down his throat.
âAlrightâŚAlrightâŚFuuuuuuuuuuck. Just call it alreadyâ, the younger man groaned, downing his twenty-eighth. Â
Rick downed his last two, unable to watch the agony his friend was going through. Shaking a head at the sick and defeated drunk Ford, lifting him to his feet.
Ford didnât complain when he noticed Rick paid for their drinks. He didnât complain as he watched him pull out the portal device from his jacket. He was too drunk to complain as he pulled him through the emerald light. And youâd think he was high as a kite at how amused he was at the change of scenery.
âWelcome to Earth Dimension 62-48 CeeeeeeeâŚâ Rick burped, spreading his arms as if it was a world of his own creation. Which wouldnât be too far from the truth.
His introduction was cut short by the sound of Ford chucking onto the cold hard ground, no longer able to hold back. Heâd taken it too far this time, his pride getting the best of him.
Rick waited for him to finish, offering an arm to lead him to a nearby tent. He muttered along the way about the science of holding your alcohol, and how he recognized that Ford was drinking on an empty stomach; which obviously dwindled his chances.
Ford sobered enough to walk for himself as they reached the tent, a market area coming into view before him. He shared a brief glance at Rick, attempting to avoid the street salesman and traders calling them their way. A Garblovian started shouting obscenities as they passed, and Ford was tempted to fish out his translator. Rickâs flip of the middle finger was more than enough of a retaliation to quiet him, both men diving under a tattered curtain in nearby tattoo parlor.
Fordâs lip curled in uncertainty, Rick dragging him to the front desk. The shop owner at the desk was nothing like heâd seen before, an average pig  with octopus tentacles for arms. Despite the sunglasses and tough exterior, it seemed elated to see Rick. Itâs cheeks curving into a fat smile that could weaken even the strongest of men.
ââSup, Tony! How you doinâ you son of biiiitchâŚâ, Rick readied his fist, winking in invitation.
Tony received the fist bump with a tentacled one of his own, beady eyes darting between the two under the frames of his sunglasses.
âWhoâs your friend?â
âThis is Ford. Lost a bet, the fuckinâ lightwieght. Can you fit him in?â
Tony chuckled as if it wasnât the first time this had happened, hopping off his stool to lead them to the backroom.
Ford lifted the curtain. The parlor was rather large, countless sketches littering the walls. The faded wooden countertops were covered in supplies and chemicals, several ink pens with different sizes and tips caught his attention.
Rick motioned to Ford to remove his shirt, to which he protested at first. After a few moments of grumbling, he discarded his jacket and sweater, feeling exposed. He caught a thirsty stare from Rick, his numerous scars and rugged chest hair attracting his attention.
Tony led Ford to the large reclining chair in the center, wiping his tentacles on a nearby rag before reclining him back in the chair to get a better look at his flesh. He glanced at a small sketch that Rick has somehow managed to finish, keeping it out of range of Ford in amusement.
âIâm going to regret thisâŚâ The older man uttered out loud, the needle pinching his neck without warning. For his first tattoo it wasnât as painful as he expected, to be honest it was almost therapeutic.
The next hour was a culmination of Rick running his mouth about his portal gun, how it functioned and the science behind it. Every intricate detail was music to Fordâs ears. Rickâs passion for his work was inspiring, and for a momentâŚhe admitted to himself that there was more to this man than he was lead to believe.
The minutes passed by, reaching over an hour with Rick leaning against the wall impatiently. Tony lifted the pen, passing a mirror to Ford so he could admire the work.
Ford braced himself, turning his large chin to have a better view.
A small yellow star grinned back at him, the cartoonish features amusing him in his drunken state. The lyrics âHey Now, Iâm an All Starâ cradled around the character.
âSo, scale of 1 to 10. Is it my best work?â Rick burped.
âI love itâŚâ
And all that glitters is gold. Only shooting stars break the moldâŚ
Previous Chapter
#rick sanchez#stanford pines#bitter and sick#stanley pines#gravity falls#rick and morty#fan fiction#my writing#mabel pines#wendy corduroy#bill cipher#chapter three#rickford
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An anonymous asker wanted me to comment on a certain analysis of Dipper and Mabelâs relationship, encountered elsewhere on the Internet, which interpreted their bond as a destructive and unhealthy one. Anon shared the original analysis with me in full, but was kind enough to provide me with a point-by-point summation of the posterâs arguments, each of which I will address herein.
A) Mabel may learn lessons, but she easily forgets them later on and doesnât actually tangibly change as a person and doesnât actually learn anything as her behaviour is still roughly the same.
Mabelâs a more static character than her brother, I grant you that. Dipperâs the protagonist, and as such the character whose growth is the series focus; heâs an avatar of creator Alex Hirsch himself, so thereâs a lot of gentle self-deprecation in the way heâs written. But I tend to think that, in terms of story, it makes sense for Mabel to maintain a certain childishness, because that part of her comes to a head during the Weirdmageddon arc, when she has to choose between eternal childhood and the hard reality of growing older.
Dipper himself doesnât change much during the series; he learns various smaller lessons to the effect of âjust let things happen and donât try to rush them,â but, until the finale, fails to fully imbibe the larger lesson about growing up. The events of Weirdmageddon give us Dipper at his best; he sheds the pervasive need to be seen as an adult that has characterized him from the beginning and in so doing appears at his most mature. He becomes a realist. He stops getting in his own way. At the same time, Mabel relinquishes her selfishness, the world which revolves around her, and her unwillingness to move forward, even granting Dipper the freedom to stay with Ford if he so chooses. They each grow in a far more definite way than they did over the course of the series proper, in which their character flaws were excellent plot fodder. (Itâs also worth noting that in the show, as in real life, maturation is a process; we tend to revert to type, and itâs rare that one definitive âlessonâ alters our tendencies. We have to learn again and again.)
B) The review ... points out that Dipper has been told the entire summer and probably his entire life that his sister is better than him, meaning his relationship with this sister, no matter how stable it might seem superficially, is actually unstable and based on one of the siblings having a lower-sense of self-worth than the other, at least subconsciously.
I donât see any evidence that heâs received this kind of treatment, then or now. Stan is tougher on Dipper than on Mabel because he thinks the nervous, noodle-armed Dipper could use the toughening up in a way that his more energetic twin doesnât. Wendy tells Dipper in âSock Operaâ that he should roll with Mabelâs weirdness because it makes life worth livingâbut note that itâs Mabel who learns a lesson in âSock Opera,â in a deliberate reversal of various Season 1 episodes (âTime-Travelerâs Pig,â âThe Deep Endâ) in which Dipper takes the fall. The episode starts with that message rather than ending on it because this time itâs going to be subverted; Mabel is the one who will need to compromise.
Dipperâs under no illusions that his sister is perfect; he complains about her plenty, her behavior often gets on his nerves (as his does on hers) and he asserts himself whenever itâs necessary. But he loves herâloves her, in fact, in the fullest agape sense.
The fact he values his sisterâs life over his own can be used as evidence to support this, as this dovetails right into him thinking he is inferior to her, and is an unhealthy thing for him. And his motivation isnât that he wants to save as many of his friends as possible, but rather that we wants to live long enough to find Mabel, further supporting the theory. Basically, he is his sisterâs âemotional slaveâ as said in the analysis I quoted above.
Dipperâs willingness to put his life on the line for his sister is no evidence of an unhealthy relationship or of an inferiority complex; itâs a testament to his love for her that shows his character in its noblest light. His feeling is one that anyone with a beloved family member, be it brother, sister, parent, or child, is likely to relate to. Itâs not an indication that he devalues his own life, but rather that he values her life more. Thereâs nothing passive or suicidal in Dipper: he has dreams, ambitions, goals for his future (if anything, his flaw is to dwell in the future too much and forget to be twelve). Like Ford before him, he harbors a hope that the things that make him different are signs of a higher destiny, one he would like to get to as quickly as possible. Itâs because he values his future highly that the risk he takes for Mabel carries the weight it does. (By contrast, Mabel fears the future so much that sheâs willing to throw her life away and idle indefinitely in the prison bubble; for her the heroic action is not a decision to risk her life but a decision to embrace it.)
In fact, however, Dipper does want to save as many of his friends as possible; when Weirdmageddon hits, his first move is to follow Ford into an incredibly dangerous attempt to take out Bill Cipher, cutting off the apocalypse at its source. When that falls through, itâs completely natural that he should try his hardest to find Mabel; sheâs his sister, sheâs been missing since the whole thing started, he has reason to fear that she might not even be alive. Worse still, the last conversation they had was a fight. With Ford down for the count, his only other âsurvivingâ relative in Gravity Falls at this point is Stan, an adult well-capable of caring for himself.
Whatâs more, the revelation that Bill has locked Mabel in his prison bubble comes with the idea that rescuing Mabel is in fact the best thing Dipper can do for Gravity Falls; after observing the twins in action all summer, Wendy sees their teamwork as a sufficiently potent force to topple even Bill. She throws in her lot with Dipper because she cares about Mabel, yes, but also because she firmly believes that reuniting the twins is the key to undoing the apocalypse.
C) This right here has to do with the ask you answered last time. The person above who wrote the analysis points out that, even though both Dipper and Mabel have desires that are equally selfish and mean everything to them, Dipper still has to sacrifice more of his desires than Mabel has to as a whole. He also points out how it seems that Mabel might be a bit spoiled, as she can afford to forget the lessons she has learned while Dipper cannot do that, putting her in a privileged position.
As a beautifully-written response to my original post points out, Dipperâs and Mabelâs sacrifices add up evenly. But I think itâs also worth pointing out that Dipper, while experiencing temporary pain, doesnât lose much from his sacrifices on the whole; where it counts (when, for instance, the journal is on the line), Mabel takes the hit. Several of Dipperâs wants over the course of Season 1 had to do with his crush on Wendy, a doomed affair regardless of what he did. In âThe Time-Travelerâs Pig,â for instance, he went back in time and took away Robbieâs opportunity to ask Wendy out, childishly attempting to spare himself the pain of seeing them together. Not only would this hardly have prevented Robbie from asking her out in the future, it left the root difficulty unalteredânamely that, given the chance to go out with a boy her own age, Wendy would do it. Dipper blames circumstances and timing because itâs less painful than acknowledging that Wendy wants to date someone else. (That Wendy has her freedom is a lesson Dipper is slow to learn; he grasps it in âBoyz Crazy,â around the time Mabel is learning a similar lesson about the clueless boy band sheâs hiding in the Shack.) Itâs an impulsive, band-aid solution and one that can hardly help Dipper in the long run, whereas Mabel will be deeply affected by the loss of her pig, a complication Dipper caused himself when his denial made him meddle with the timeline. His sacrifice on this occasion is simply a decision to let things unfold as they did to begin with. He watches the girl he likes go out with another person and suffers some pain because of it; thatâs part of growing up.
Mabel is a little spoiled, but thereâs no evidence that she can âaffordâ to forget what sheâs learned in a way that Dipper canât; she suffers for her flaws as he does, particularly when her need for control lands her in the prison bubble.
D) Mabel seems to depend on the positivity of others to make her feel she is doing the right thing, instead of learning it objectively and maturely like other characters.
Thatâs a character flaw, and itâs addressed head-on in âThe Last MabelcornââMabel is overly-reliant on outside affirmation and reassurance. She has a very real anxious streak and wants (as seen in âThe Love Godâ) to make the people around her happy; sheâd do well to learn that itâs impossible to please everyone, but so would a lot of preteens.
E) Mabel is responsible for opening the portal in the end which causes Weirdmageddon. People should have confronted her about this, at least mildly and without anger, but nobody did. And Dipper should have been angry with Mabel about this, but he somehow wasnât. The theory says this is because Dipper had an emotional attachment to Mabel that was destructive & unhealthy for both of them, which is why he didnât confront her and continued caring for her more than himself.
In fact, Dipper never found out (onscreen, at least) about Mabelâs encounter with Blendin Blandin and the subsequent opening of the portal. But even if he had, I donât tend to think that he would have been angry, nor that he should have been.
Mabel didnât knowingly cause the apocalypse. In an incredibly vulnerable moment, when she was at her absolute lowest, she was tricked by Bill Cipher, who had taken hold of someone she trusted. She was completely unaware of the significance of the riftâshe had never seen it before, and Ford had forbidden Dipper from telling her anything about it. She had not been warned about Billâs endgame and was unconscious of any impending apocalypse save the immediate vision of her world crumbling before her eyes. As far as she could see, she was trading a worthless item of Dipperâs for something she desperately wanted: security. Whatâs familiar about this? Itâs exactly the situation Dipper found himself in during âSock Opera.â Â He was so desperate to fight time, so frightened of losing everything, so powerless against the clock (âTick-tock, kid!â) that when Bill seemed to be asking him for one of Mabelâs sock puppets in exchange for what he wanted, he took the bait, inadvertently handing over something far more valuable. No one confronted Dipper about this because no one needed to; the events of the episode were lesson enough.
Should Mabel have been smarter about the whole thing? Perhaps. But keep in mind that Dipper, in a similar situation, knew he was talking to Bill. He made the deal in the full knowledge that he was shaking the hand of a fundamentally untrustworthy creature. Mabel believed that she was speaking to a friend. I donât see any reason why Dipper should have been angry at Mabel for being tricked by a force which had not only tricked him also, but which had even played their great-uncle Ford, a highly intelligent adult and the person he admires most, for a sucker--particularly considering that Mabel acted out of a desperate fear of losing him.
The reviewer also points out how it would have been much better if Dipper and Mabel had developed by âfinding their own hobbies, clubs, and friend groups while still living together and staying just close enough to remain best loving friends but not be dependent on each other to be mentally and emotionally stableâ instead of the way their relationship existed in the show.
According to Alex Hirsch, the twins are in fact more independent under ordinary circumstances, when theyâre at home; the unfamiliarity of a new situation pulls them closer together. But even in Gravity Falls, the two are consistently depicted as living distinct and individual lives, with their own separate hobbies and groups of friends. Mabel finds âher peopleâ in young eccentrics Candy and Grenda, while Dipper gravitates toward the more advanced high-school social dynamic of Wendy and her crew. Mabel loves boy bands, stuffed animals and the 80s; Dipperâs steeped in paranormal research, mystery novels and fantasy RPGs. Their lives and interests intersect and conflict, but never overwhelm each other; in the end thereâs room for Dipperâs ballpoint pens and Mabelâs crayons under the same pointed attic roof.
Dipper and Mabel wonât live with each other forever. Theyâll grow up like any brother and sister, go to college, have lives of their own, get jobs, spouses, kids. But thatâs exactly why the time they have is so important. Theyâre not ready to be adults yet. They still have a lot of growing up to do, and itâs right and natural for them to be able to rely on each other, to draw strength from each other, to support each other through this particularly turbulent phase of their lives, just as theyâve always done.
#Gravity Falls#Dipper Pines#Mabel Pines#Mystery Twins#meta#analysis#anonymous asks#animation#television#Alex Hirsch#Weirdmageddon#Sock Opera#The Time-Traveler's Pig#Boyz Crazy#The Love God#The Last Mabelcorn#Dipper and Mabel vs. the Future#long post#like really long
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