#but not before mabel badgered him about it for like a week

[thatonedudeinthecorner]

My go at the “older twins” designs

Thanks @tiffanyblewss for basically giving me all of the color ideas LMAO

[goldenchan-fx2thepeacock]

Don’t Go Running Off Into Danger, Even If I Do pt 2

So, I have no clue what a publishing schedule is. So here, have more of this dumb fic at 11 pm. FUCK SLEEP! SLEEP IS FOR THE WEAK!

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Chapter 2

Danny and Jazz managed to finish just in time to put everything away before their parents got home. He’d actually managed to have a ghost free night. But the peace wasn’t going to last. And this wasn’t about ghosts. He got slammed into his locker.  “Hey look, it’s Fenturd. What’s with the dumb picture of Phantom? You’ll never be on his level,” Dash said and laughter broke out. Danny groaned. At least they didn’t know he was trans. He’d be beaten twice as much if they knew. The locker door closed and locked.  “Seriously Dash? I have to get to class!” He yelled through the metal.  “Whatever Fentina. No one cares! Oh hey, it’s fresh meat!” Dash went away from Danny’s locker. Danny had found out a way to make it so he could open his locker from the inside without it being outerwardly compromised. He jumped out. It was those kids from last night.  “Leave them alone Dash. They haven’t even been here for a day yet. The rules are that newbies get a probation period,” Danny crossed his arms.  “I don’t know Fentoenail. Would you like to take their beating?” Dash mocked him. Danny sighed. He’d have to do this.  “Any day,” 

Danny regretted everything. Dash had hit him twice as hard as normal and his locker trick wasn’t working. Everything hurt. He was going to miss Lancer’s class. At least his ghost sense wasn’t going off or something. Lancer wouldn’t miss him. Suddenly, his locker opened and he tumbled out. He yelped. “Are you okay?” The girl twin said.  “No worse than what I’m used to,” Danny brushed himself off.  “You didn’t have to do that,” The boy twin told Danny. “Yeah, I kinda did. The probation period is sacred. Dash knows that,” “Probation period?” The boy said. “A rule we made up last year. If Dash really wants to break it, I take the beating instead. Fenton gets to take the beating so the new kids don’t have to,”  “That’s not fair. You should report him,” “Nah, he threw like four perfect throws last night and is exempt from punishment,”  “Football?” The boy gave Danny a knowing look.  “Danielle- I mean Daniel Fenton to the main office,” The loud speaker said. “Oh come on! At least it was probably just a misread,” Danny was fuming. The beating plus being deadnamed was getting on his nerves. “We have to head there too,” The girl said. Danny shrugged and let them follow him.

Lancer called them all in at once. “Sup Lancer. Can I help you?” Danny leaned against the wall. “Mr Fenton. You and I both know that you need to show me more respect. W-what happened to you?” Lancer looked up from his papers. “Just a certain football star. Nothing I can’t handle. He broke the probation period,” “That’s a rule between students. I have no need to enforce it,” Lancer sighed. “I have no clue why you of all people were chosen for this, but you are too be Mr and Ms Pines guide around the school,” “Jazz not good enough for you? Had to pick the ‘slacker’ Fenton?” “Daniel, mind your tone. Jazz is our top student,”  “We all know I’m destined to fail in life. Can I get their timetables?” “Yes of course. Listen Danny, both you and I know you’re capable of better grades. I don’t understand why you don’t try,” Danny wasn’t in the mood for Lancer’s pep talks.  “I’ve got more important things to worry about,” Danny grabbed the papers and stalked off with the Pines Twins on his heels.  “Why didn’t he do anything about Dash?” the boy asked. “He has no reason to. Not like I’m about to ask,” Danny handed them their timetables. He’d seen that the girl was named Mabel and the boy Mason. “We’ll start with your classes Mason,”  “I prefer Dipper,” “I’m not calling you by a dumb nickname. Let’s go,” Danny growled.

Just as he was about to lead Mason to his first class, a royal pain in his ass showed up. “Daniel! I require your assistance, little badger,” “It’s bound to be another plan to get in my mom’s pants. Go away,”  “Now, don’t be like that. I’m the mayor after all. You should be honored,” “Plasmius, shut your goddamn mouth. I. Don’t. Give. A. Fuck,” Danny said so that only Vlad could hear.  “Well, something’s got you in a tizzy. I’ll ask later. I should tell you though, it’s about Danielle,” “What did you do to Dani?” Fury. Wait, he had to get the kids to class.  “Nothing. It wasn’t me. You should ask your ghost hunter girlfriend,” Vlad grinned. Fucking Valerie.  “Come on kids. You’ve got to get to class,” Danny ignored Plasmius. Valerie was going to die. 

At lunch, he purposefully turned into Phantom and waited for Valerie on top of the school. She took no time at all. “What. Did. You. Do. To. Dani,” He glared at her.  “I didn’t do anything to her! You’re going down ghost!” “Am I really?” Danny was pissed. She wasn’t getting any mercy today. He teleported behind her.  “What the... HOW?” “Where is she?!” He growled. “What do you care? She’s always off on her own,”  “Does it look like I care Valerie?!”  “How did you know?!” “I know more than you seem to think. Tell me where Dani is. NOW!” He froze her feet. She looked terrified.  “What’s wrong with you!? Why do you care so much about her? Ghosts don’t have feelings,” Danny lost it at that point. The laughter was dark. Hollow. Horrible. Val’s terror was visible.  “Don’t have feelings? DON’T HAVE FEELINGS? FUCK YOU! I’M SO TIRED OF ALL THIS!” “Phantom, calm down,” Val was terrified. Danny wasn’t done. The rings were threatening to come down and expose him to her.  “So you admit this is real? Would you like to know how it feels to die Val? How it feels to live on the line between life and death? Wait, I can’t do that! You don’t have a deactivated portal in your basement that I can make you turn on while your inside. I don’t have a stupid jumpsuit with your dad’s face on it so I can take off the that sticker. You don’t have parents that threaten to rip you apart molecule by molecule for just exsisting! You don’t have to see a future where you become evil because you cheated on one test and your family all died! Can you even begin to comprehend what I go through? Ever been cloned? And forced to do something incredibly painful so that one clone can get fixed and watch another get lied too? And that’s just the brunt of it Valerie. Keep telling me how I don’t feel. How I’m nothing!” Danny screamed at ice engulfed their feet. Val’s eyes went wide.  “D-Danny?” She said quietly. “Congratulations! You aren’t as niave as the rest of Amity Park! How does it feel?” He’d snapped. “Calm down! I’ll tell you where Dani is!” She shrieked. That hollow laugh came back. But instead of an angry rant afterwards, he just sunk to his knees and screamed. It wasn’t a wail. It was a scream of pain. Of being done with the world.  “I can’t do this anymore,” He sobbed and the rings went down. All that was left now was a beaten, broken Danny Fenton.  “You should change back. I’ll take you to Dani,” Danny nodded and followed her.  “Sorry I broke down. I’m just sick of people telling me that I can’t feel. That all ghosts can’t feel. You don’t even bother talking to us, ya know?” “Ghosts lie,” “And so do people! I’ve talked to the ghosts. Listened to them. Heard their stories. I protect people, but I protect them too!” “How do you know those aren’t just acts?” “Cause they make sense. I’d have the same response if it was me. If my parents burned down the place I was in because I got caught being gay,” “I’m confused,” “Ember. I told her I wouldn’t tell anyone. But you need to know that they all have reasons for being the way they are. Skulker’s family was hunted, so now he hunts to prove his strength,” “Maybe we should talk to you more,”  “Maybe you should. No one asks to die,” “But your parents say that ghosts don’t remember their lives. They’re the leading experts,”  “That’s like putting a ten year old in a room of babies. They’re the expert by default in that situation, but an adult would be the expert the moment they walked in,” “Why don’t we know about that,” “Dying is traumatizing. Even half dying is traumatizing. It’s taboo to mention it unless you’re told. No one explains it until they’re ready. And talking about a life before that is almost wrong,” “How did you learn?” “Skulker told me during the Christmas Truce. Ember told me one day when she just wanted to be left alone, but I did too. I guess things end up working out in weird ways,” “The Christmas Truce?” “On Christmas Eve and Christmas, ghosts have a truce. No one is allowed to fight anyone that day. The Ghost Writer broke the truce and Walker got to haul him off in just means,” “We really know nothing about ghosts, do we?” “No, you don’t. They even have a party. I got invited last year. Skulker let me make the star! It took me weeks to get it right,” Danny smiled at the memory. He’d made a scale model of a blue giant that went through it’s life stages.  “So there’s a whole society?” “A government. Systems. Main rules. Taboos. Just cause we’re ghosts, doesn’t mean we don’t have a system,” “I’m sorry,” “What?” Danny nearly froze. “I’m sorry that I made so many assumptions. I never should’ve chased you or any ghost like that,” “Keep them out of Amity Park and send them back to the Zone. Most ghosts forget that living is dangerous, so they just rampage. I keep trying to talk sense into them, but they’re pretty stubborn,”  “What about the dog?” “Dog? You mean Cujo? I was trying to stop him from trashing Axiom. He was trying to get a toy. I’m sorry that recked your life Val,” “My life? Wrecked? When compared to you, my life is a dream. It’s not like I died,” “I guess you’ve got a point,”

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Thanks for reading. I just like fics where Val finds out, and this one seemed like an okay place to stick it. Dani is fine. I’ll fill you in on that next chapter, but I should get some sleep.

[a-mad-scientist-approaches]

The Fluff Pup

My contribution to Maybel 2018, Week 1: Animals.

Werewolf AU! I’ve wanted to write this for a while.

Part 2    Part 3    Part 4

AO3

Mabel sat eagerly bouncing on the edge of her bed, watching the forest through the attic window. The full moon would appear any minute now.

“Mabel, would you stop it?” Dipper said irritably.

“Sorry, Dip Dop,” Mabel smiled at him. “But no, I won’t stop it. It feels like forever since I’ve seen the fluff pup!”

“Not this again,” said Dipper wearily.

“Yes, this again! ‘The fluff pup’!” Mabel spread her hands and moved them in a rainbow shape above her head. “Because that’s what you look like when you do your thing. It’s much better than ‘werewolf’. That’s boring. It’s literally just ‘manwolf’. Fluff pup adds illustration.”

“We don’t know any other werewolves though.” Dipper tried to reason. “Maybe not all of them are fluffy. Definitely not all of them are puppies.”

Mabel held up a finger. “That’s where you’re wrong, bro-bro. All dogs are puppies. And a wolf is basically a dog, and a werewolf turns into a wolf. In conclusion: you are a puppy. Sometimes. Also, you’re not fully grown, so you are actually a puppy as well. I suppose werepuppy might be acceptable . . .”

“It’s a pity the Journal doesn’t have anything on werewolves.” Dipper said, grabbing it and flipping obsessively through, like he had been all day. “When I found it, I thought there might actually be a cure.”

He looked so crestfallen. Mabel slowed her bouncing until it ceased completely.

She loved her brother: it didn’t matter what shape he was. If it had been her, she would have been ecstatic. Becoming an animal? How cool was that!

Dipper wasn’t like her though. He was lonely having no one who could really relate to him, no matter how hard Mabel tried.

He was okay enough with the whole thing once he got used to it. He’d been pretty freaked out the first time he Changed, but Mabel found that, really, he was like any other animal – just a bit more magicky than normal. He wouldn’t hurt anyone unless he was pushed to. However, he still worried. The first time, he’d been paranoid that he would hurt someone, and terrified that it would be Mabel, until they discovered that some instincts ran very deep indeed: there was no way he would ever harm his sister. If Mabel was around, he behaved exactly how he looked: like a fluff pup.

Tonight was their first full moon in Gravity Falls though. Their first full moon away from home. They didn’t know how he would react when his rationality disappeared and his instincts took over in an unfamiliar environment. Dipper had been badgering her all day about restraint precautions (which Mabel had flatly refused), back-up plans (which she had listened to for his peace of mind), and readily available supplies of meat (which she had stored under her bed). Mabel was entirely confident that this would go exactly the same as usual. Dipper wasn’t.

He cracked his knuckles anxiously, eyes flitting between the window and the Journal.

“It’s just like falling asleep.” He muttered. “Falling asleep after a lot of growing pains, and itchiness, and sensory overstimulation.” He groaned. “This is going to be fun.”

“It will be for me!” Mabel said cheerfully. “You never want to play catch,”

“Yes I do,” said Dipper, mildly offended.

“But not with your mouth. Proper catch, Dipper.” Mabel said, as though this was obvious. “When you’re a fluff pup, you understand me.”

“Stop calling me a fluff pup! I am not fluffy, nor a puppy! I’m a werewolf, I’m scary, I could kill someone!”

“Nah.” said Mabel airily. “That’s just a myth.”

“We thought werewolves were a myth, Mabel!”

Mabel gasped as an idea struck her. “Do you want me to get Gompers up here? You could have an animal buddy!”

“Mabel, I might eat Gompers,”

“Nah.” She responded again. Then she turned thoughtful. “Gompers might chew on you a bit, though,”

Dipper was about to loose another agitated reply, when a white light shone through the window and illuminated the side of his face. The Moon had risen.

“Oh no,” he gulped.

“It’ll be okay, Dipper,” Mabel reassured him, hopping off her bed and going over to her brother’s side of the room, where he was sliding off his own bed onto the floor. He had a large blanket wrapped around him. It was odd that he was so self-conscious about changing shape, but when Mabel had shown him photos of his transformation one time, he’d been horrified and had kept himself completely obscured ever since. It also doubled as a way for her to be around him during the Change without invading his privacy: Dipper took off his clothes before it happened. He’d reasoned that not being prepared was going to be expensive in the future if he tore up his clothes every month.

He started breathing rapidly, then winced in pain. Eyes tightly closed, he looked like he was concentrating very hard on something. When Mabel had inquired once, it turned out to be on not losing his dinner. Small hairs started growing on his face, and his ears looked like they were trying to shift around his head while simultaneously lengthening to points. With a whimper, Dipper dove under the blanket.

After a minute or two, the lump Mabel had been watching frantically writhe around stilled. Laboured breaths filled the room, quicker than a human’s resting rate. Mabel slowly and carefully drew back the blanket. She couldn’t stop a very unwelcome thought from entering her head.

What if Dipper’s right about this time?

He wouldn’t be. Mabel knew her brother. He wouldn’t hurt anyone unless he had to, least of all her.

There was still a bit of a quaver in her voice when she ventured, “Dipper?”

A whine.

The lump shook itself, and the rest of the blankets fell away.

Dipper the wolf sat up on his haunches, tongue hanging out, soft dark fur slightly dishevelled, but brown eyes the same as ever, oddly enough. He even retained his Big Dipper birthmark, in slightly lighter fur than the rest of him. He licked her face.

“Dipper the fluff pup!” Mabel cried, hugging him tightly. Dipper nosed at her hair, letting her know everything was fine with him. No change at all. He’d – they’d – been worrying for nothing.

Dipper rose up on his legs, sniffing around under her bed.

“Hungry, huh?” she said sympathetically. She could imagine the Change took a lot out of a person. Opening a can of meat, she was happy to play with his incredibly soft fur until he finished. Then he yapped at her.

“Shh!” she hushed hurriedly. “We don’t want Grunkle Stan coming up here!”

Dipper quieted obediently.

“Y’know what,” Mabel said slowly, “we could never go outside in Piedmont. Too much city stuff. Out here on the other hand . . .”

She grinned at Dipper. Dipper wagged his tail.

“Let’s go see Gompers!”

They both scrambled up, and as Mabel finished stuffing her feet into some shoes, she realised just how big Dipper the fluff pup was.

If she was to get on her hands and knees next to him, shoulder to shoulder, he’d be noticeably bigger than her. And he was only a puppy! She wondered if this was standard for some dogs. Or werewolves. It might be. Nothing was standard about this situation.

She grinned as she realised how big he’d eventually be. He might be able to give her piggy backs one day!

Mabel grabbed the ball they played catch with, and the Journal. As an afterthought, she grabbed her camera as well. They were here to make summer memories after all.

“Let’s see if we can do this without Grunkle Stan noticing,” Mabel whispered, opening their bedroom door. Dipper might have given a nod, or he might just have been flicking his head. She was never quite sure how intelligent he was like this, and he never remembered enough to tell her.

Apart from Mabel’s camera spontaneously flashing when they were halfway downstairs, their temporary escape was successful. The siblings crept quietly out, one on two legs, one on four, but both pretty happy with the arrangement.

Fortunately, Stan was occupied playing with his own chew toy in the basement.

[grifalinas]

The clothing store was the first place Stan stopped off at. He wanted to buy Mabel toys, had wanted it since that first night that she’d settled into his arms like she belonged there and become the gravitational center of his own personal universe. She hadn’t had any when she came to him- something he hated Marilyn for, because she could have packed some toys when she dumped her on him- and though he’d tried, he hadn’t managed more than a few cheap knick-knacks that had fallen apart far too quickly.

But she needed clothes. Ford was right, that sweater had seen better days. It had been worn when he got her, and their three months together had done it no favors. So he took her to the clothing store, and let her pick out a few dresses and pants and shirts and sweaters, a whole week’s worth of sweaters, she could wear a different one every day if she wanted, and when it was time to go he even paid for most of it, only shoplifting a few things out of instinct.

And then it was on to the toy store.

The way her eyes lit up at the sight of all those toys was too much for Stan’s heart to take. He set her down in front of a wall stacked floor to ceiling with stuffed animals, and knelt beside her.

“Go ahead and pick some,” he said. “A girl needs a few stuffed friends to play with.”

She picked out three, a goat and a snake and a badger, and then dropped all three with a delighted squeal before running off as fast as her little legs could take her to a stuffed pig about half her own size, which had fallen to the floor at some point. She picked it up and gave it a squeeze, so hard that Stan worried the thing was going to burst its seams.

“Papa I want it!” she shouted. “It’s the best thing ever!”

What he wouldn’t give to make her that happy every day of her life.

He reached down and scooped up the other toys she’d picked out, then went over to join her, ruffling her hair before taking one of her hands, the other staying clutched firmly around the pig.

“Okay, okay, no need to shout. I did tell you to pick some out, didn’t I?”

The rest of the shopping was uneventful; Stan found a cart and set Mabel and her pig in it while he went looking for a few other things. Admittedly, he still couldn’t get her much, but he could afford a jumbo sized coloring book and a big box of crayons, and- a smile tugging at his lips at the thought of Ford’s insistence- a tub of building blocks.

There. Now his daughter had toys and a real wardrobe on top of the food and warm place to sleep, and Stan had gotten those for her all on his own.

Maybe he could be a good provider after all.

And the way she was clinging to that pig and looking at him like he’d given her the world instead of just a few stuffed animals made cheating to beat Dan completely worth it.

[effectivedetectivc-blog]

Care to tell us about one of your more interesting cases?

     “Well…” The hesitation was a formality, and he knew it. He was completely aware that he’d become the very pinnacle of a stereotypical elderly New Englander - always ready to reminisce and spin out a yarn to anybody who would listen, or nobody at all. “Guess there are a few that come to mind. Missing persons work is my specialty, of course, but I get homicide cases occasionally, and I got called in on a real wild card about ten years ago. Biggest web of false leads, family politics and lies I ever stuck my foot in. Might want to take a seat, it’s a long one:”

     “It all started with just about the oldest family left in Massachusetts. The Van Burens go way back, before the War - made all their money in steel during the arms race with China, and that estate out on the coast held up real well after the fallout. They were rich enough to get the place set up with some pretty nice defenses, and a good three generations of ‘em survived the bombs in a shelter under the mansion, ended up striking it rich a second time when they came out and started setting up trade caravans through Bunker Hill. Guess a head for business ran in the family, but by the time I came along most of ‘em were just living off the work of the previous generations, letting the wheels turn and pulling in the profits - whole family of post-apocalyptic trust fund babies. Last one of ‘em with any real industry was the patriarch, Alphonse Van Buren, and he’d been dead in the ground three weeks when I got there. Turned out to be his will that started all the trouble, but that wasn’t the half of it.”

     “Make of the family fell out this way: Al’s brother George, his younger brother’s widow, Lacey, his late sister’s son, Gordon, and daughters, Jane and Carol, along with their fellas, and “Aunt Mabel”, only member of the family to get ghoulified after the bombs dropped, who’d drop by and check on things every ten years or so, and another ghoul, her gal Helen. All of ‘em showed up after Al kicked the bucket hoping they’d be the beneficiary, and it went down about how you’d expect, nobody getting what they thought they deserved and every one ticked off about it. Nothing for me to get involved in, there, but the night Al’s legal man from Bunker Hill read out the will, Mabel lets it slip that she knows he was murdered - hadn’t been a reason to think it before, just seemed like an old man with failing health finally gave up the ghost, but day after that she turns up hacked to death with a fireman’s axe in her shack.”

     “I’d helped Bernard, the estate manager, out of a bind a few years back, and he recommended me to the family. Naturally, everybody there suspects everybody else of the murders, trying to get at a bigger slice of the old man’s fortune, and they want me to get to the bottom of it, so I start sniffing around. Turns out nobody had an alibi that held together, and every damn one of them had motive to give Al the boot except for Mabel and her lady love: George was peeved the whole sum didn’t go to him, as the remaining eldest, Lacey had cancer and needed the money for treatment, Gordon was a gambler in a bad way with the Triggermen, Jane was a failing singer trying to make a name for herself, her man Don had tried his hand at acting before figuring out you can’t make money at it when the theaters are all ferals and rubble, Carol married into poverty for love and found out the lack of luxury didn’t sit well with her, and her guy Mike had lost his rep as a medic after slipping a customer some bad drugs for being rude to him. Seemed obvious somebody had overdosed the old man on his Med-X slowly hoping to make out in the will, then took after Mabel when she seemed like she knew more than she should and might let the cat out of the bag, but with seven suspects all at each other’s throats, I had my work cut out for me.”

     “First thing I did was head by Aunt Mabel’s shack to case the scene and get a word in with Helen. The thing had obviously been made to look like a raider attack - violence of the method, plenty of her possessions made off with, but thing is, somebody had taken the time to make sure Helen wasn’t around, none of the stolen goods were worth more than a handful of caps, and I found ‘em shoved in a storm drain half a mile off the estate. Only things really worth talking about in the whole place were the old gal’s paintings - Pre-War coastal scenes done from memory, all of ‘em, and pretty good, too. Sloppy frame-job at best, though, and I had Bernard shack up with Helen in the motel on Bunker Hill - seemed to follow that if Mabel had been killed for what she might know, the perp would have good reason to suspect she’d spilled the beans to her lover as well, and she’d be the most likely target if they planned to keep covering their tracks.”

     “Carol came up most likely to benefit from Mabel’s passing - turns out Mabel had married poor herself, back in the day, and left a decent cache of caps stashed away for Carol in her own will to get her out of the red. Even worse, Bernard told me she came by the motel day after he and Helen got there to ask about anything Mabel might’ve said about what she knew about Al’s illness over lunch, tried to sweeten it up by offering her work as a cook at the Van Buren estate once things were settled. Gordon had been around too, badgering Bernard about the caps Carol was due to come into, but things got dicey later that night when Helen went down with a heart attack - somebody’d slipped some Jet into her Fancy Lads, but they must not’ve known too much about ghouls and chems, and she pulled through, came around soon enough to tell me Carol had passed on dessert at lunch. But why would she have killed Al at the start? She didn’t stand to benefit more than anybody else in the family. Something smelled fishy - figuratively speaking, of course.”

     “So there I was, two murders and another attempt on my hands, a few likely suspects coming up, but about as far from the truth as I’d been to start with - and now I was on a timetable, no way to tell when the killer might try again, or who they might go after next. That’s when Lacey came to me - the dying old widow. She told me something had struck her funny during the reading of the will, something about somebody there, but the pain came on hard before she could get hold of it, and I gave her my frequency so she could radio me when she was back on her feet and it came to her. She went to bed, and I headed back over to the main estate to keep an eye on things while the family bickered over the furniture, trying to get a fix on anything out of place. I kept getting the sense something wasn’t quite right, but I couldn’t get the pieces together, couldn’t figure out how all the inconsistencies added up.”

     “Lacey radioed me that night, told me she’d figured out what it was she’d forgotten, who had been behaving out of character during the reading - then the line went dead. I beat feet out to her house on the property as fast I could, and she was alive, thank Christ, but somebody’d bludgeoned her over the head with a blunt instrument. I got her out to Bunker Hill to see one of the docs down that way, and had Bernard hire on some mercs to keep an eye on she and Helen this time. Then I got to thinking about what she’d said, and something clicked - and I decided on a gamble. I had Bernard head back out to Mabel’s shack, and got the rest of the family together at the estate.”

     “I told them I was about fed up with their uncooperative bullshit, that everybody who was above suspicion was safe in Bunker Hill, and that I’d be heading that way myself until somebody decided they were ready to get down to brass tacks and talk straight with me about what they really knew. Put all their backs up, of course, but that was the point. Turns out Helen was the first to come to me - she was feeling better already, and she told me she’d overheard some talk over the HAM radio between Mabel and Alphonse before he died, something about not being able to turn on his own niece. More fingers pointing at Carol. Then Don bursts in, not even half an hour later, and confesses to the whole damned thing, claimed Al had humiliated him, blamed him for pulling Jane into a dead-end career and ruining her prospects, made him feel like dirt, and he decided to bump him off to avenge his pride and get Jane her part of the inheritance.”

     “Of course, then Jane comes running in and puts up his alibi, and it’s rock solid. The guy was putting on a drama, playing for attention, maybe trying to get himself on the news to boost his acting career, knowing the evidence would prove him innocent after the fact. Mike came in after to set out his own real alibi - turned out he was cheating on Carol with a working girl in Goodneighbor, and he’d been out with her at the time. No guarantee she’d give honest testimony if he’d paid her, but the fella was wrecking his marriage to prove his innocence. Turns out Carol knew the whole time, and she’d been out of reach at the time of Mabel’s murder because she was tailing him - and that I got confirmed from Ham at The Third Rail. Trustworthy guy so long as you don’t treat him like a talking doorstop, and Carol had some ideas to put to me about Gordon poking around Mabel’s place for the cache of caps.”

     “So the storm of testimony blows in, and right in the middle of the thing Bernard gets me on the radio and confirms what I’d already suspected, and everything came together. I got on the HAM radio and let the Van Burens know I had the whole thing figured, and got them all out to Bunker Hill so there wouldn’t be shooting when I opened up Pandora’s box. Here’s how it was:”

     “Alphonse Van Buren dies suddenly, and Aunt Mabel claims he was murdered. Next day she’s violently killed, presumably for what she knew, and two days after that her dame, Helen, suffers a failed poisoning. The first question was who could have gotten the poison to her, up in Bunker Hill, and that came down to Bernard, Gordon, and Carol - but Carol had an alibi for Mabel’s death, so she wouldn’t have had reason to come after Helen, Gordon had been at the Van Buren estate at the time, being turned over for breaking into Mabel’s place, and Bernard was never in the running. Funny enough, but here’s where a little something comes in I noticed earlier, but hadn’t mentioned yet: Mabel’s paintings. All done from memory before the War, but there was a problem: one of them showed the Bunker Hill Memorial Bridge - but not the way it’d been before the bombs dropped. It got remodeled when Nick’s dad was still a kid, and Mabel had only been thirty-five when she turned ghoul. There was no way she could have seen it herself that way - she would’ve had to have done it from a photo, maybe a postcard, and that struck me even funnier than the issue with the poisoning.”

     “Set that aside for a minute, and think about this: if Mabel hadn’t said anything about it, there never would’ve been a reason to think old Al had died of anything but natural causes. Even that might’ve been dismissed, if Mabel hadn’t turned up dead the next day, and Helen’s “accident” right after. Then I asked myself: if Mabel only came around every ten or fifteen years to check in on the family line, how well could any of them have really known her? Lacey was the only one who’d been in regular contact, and she’d told me she’d noticed something out of place - but she was still down with a concussion, and it had to be because of what she’d picked up on. And there’s where it all came together.”

     “Aunt Mabel’s only purpose coming to that reading was to plant the suspicion of Al’s murder, but I examined the corpse, and I saw something the docs didn’t pick up on: she’d been dead over a week. Most humans couldn’t tell, with a ghoul - probably wouldn’t think twice about her eyes getting eaten by bloatfly maggots, with all the rot, but the maggots had already hatched and gone when I examined the body. Over a week. So who came to the reading of the will? The answer was simple: the only person who could’ve conceivably looked and sounded like her, with the right wig and clothes, and the only person who would’ve known her well enough to fake her mannerisms almost well enough to pass as her. Helen, the only other person who would have been in a position to poison the cakes she ate, and who would have known anything less than Ultra-Jet wouldn’t kill her.”

     “But why kill Alphonse Van Buren? Easy: she didn’t. Al died of natural causes, just the way it looked, and Helen jumped on the opportunity to throw off suspicion that she might have killed Aunt Mabel, in case Lacey checked in and didn’t buy that raiders had come by in the night and just happened to catch Helen out of the house. Then she poisons herself to throw the scent off further, and sets it up to cast suspicion on Carol - but she didn’t count on Ham being able to vouch for her.”

     “But why bother? Why kill the woman she’d been partners with for almost ten years, and why make it so goddamned complex? I couldn’t figure that until I fixed on the painting. Mabel had made it to look out of place, but only to somebody who’d been around long enough to notice the difference. So I sent Bernard to have a look at it, since Helen hadn’t been able to get at it while under watch in Bunker Hill, and Gordon had been caught after she’d sent him, but before he could get his hands on it either. Sure enough, take it out of the frame and what do you find? Schematics of the Van Buren estate, showing the location of a subterranean vault. Turns out there was a whole mess of valuables down there that only Mabel was still around to know about, including about twenty gold bars by the invoice on the schematic, and after Al passed she’d decided it was finally time to let the family know. And of course, she told Helen. And Helen got greedy.”

     “She decided she’d take the gold for herself, and killing off Mabel, replacing her, then getting herself embroiled in a murder scandal would get her into the estate - even if she’d had to wait, Carol offered her a job as the family cook and housekeeper, which would have kept her close enough to take the gold as soon as it was safe. She had good reason to hate all of them: aside from Lacey and Jane, just about all of them were rotten one way or the other, and they had too much money on their hands already, not to mention they thought they were so charitable, offering to let a ghoul be their servant when they couldn’t even tell the difference between one and another. I’d say there was as much spite in there as greed. So she took an axe to Mabel one night while she was sleeping - she wouldn’t have jumped out of bed when the door was broken down if the attack came from inside, and she was already dead when Helen did it - and took her spare wig and clothes, and off she went to cash in.”

     “Helen cracked and pulled a pistol once she knew she had no way out, and the mercs Bernard had hired on took her out before she could hurt anybody. Not the way I would’ve preferred to end things, but after what she did to Mabel and Lacey, I can’t say it was undeserved, and that closed the case.”

     “As for the gold, there wasn’t anybody left alive who knew the code to the vault, and the security was too advanced to break through. The family would have to demolish the whole damned house if they wanted even a dream of getting it open, and I figured about the same as Helen had - that the Van Burens didn’t need or deserve that gold anyhow. Better to let ‘em live knowing it was right under their noses, but always out of their reach. I had a talk with Ham and got Jane a gig at The Third Rail, and that cache of caps nobody ever found…well, Lacey found herself a nice doctor up in D.C., away from that mess, and nobody needs to know how she got the money to make the trip. I didn’t end up getting paid, of course, but at that point I was glad to put the whole mess behind me, and Bernard managed to get me some rare servos through the caravans to keep my knees together another decade or two.”

     “I couldn’t save Mabel, but at least she got some justice in the end. You always hope for a happy ending, no snags, no complications, but there ain’t much that comes up roses in the Commonwealth these days. I head out and put a few hubflowers on Mabel’s grave every year, just in case. Figure she deserves somebody who cares that she’s gone.”

     “And that’s it. The whole story. ‘Foul deeds will rise, Though all the earth o'erwhelm them, to men’s eyes.’”

[sevralships]

“Mabey, Baby” (Jolene AU)

~The people asked for more Jolene AU, and more Jolene AU they shall get~

The Pines triplets are back at their Grunkle’s for another summer. When Mabel has the idea to host a talent show for the residents of Gravity Falls, both Dipper and Jo help make it happen. Jo struggles with stage fright and forgiving herself. 

TW incest. Angst, fluff, and smut in one tidy package. Jolene AU/Pinecest. NSFW. 7,104 words.

Fic under the cut. Enjoy!

(This story takes place AFTER the events of “Just Because You Can” and contains spoilers. If you have not read that fic, read on at your own risk.)

The sun had already gone down, but the night air was still warm and fireflies dotted the lawn. Jolene loved Oregon in the summer, how lush and damp it was, the dense woods fecund and teeming with adventures to be had. No, she hadn’t come to Gravity Falls that first summer, but she had every summer since, and her heart belonged to the mysterious secrets and green woods of this town.

Well, that wasn’t entirely true. Her heart may thrive here, but its ownership was indisputably in the hands of her triplets. It didn’t feel so whole right at this moment because of where she was, but because of the people that stood to either side of her. To Jolene’s left, Mabel was laughing her head off, her long brown hair dancing a little in the light summer breeze. To her right, Dipper was crouched down, fastidiously buckling his sousaphone into its seldom-opened velour-lined case. When he straightened up again, there was a greenish tinge of embarrassment on his face before it was chased away by his own laughter at the spectacle before them.

About a week prior, Mabel had had a sudden inspiration, as she often did when things got boring for more than a day. “Let’s host a talent show!” she had exclaimed, her eyes glittering and her smile wide. Although this sort of thing wasn’t exactly their forte, Jo and Dipper had only shared an uncertain look and shrugged. It was no use resisting it, Mabel would talk them into it in the end either way. And as ever, the triplets had worked together like a well-oiled machine. While Mabel had spitballed ideas, sitting upside down on the couch with her head hanging off the side, Dipper had taken incredibly detailed notes. He had thought of everything, refreshments, admission, contact information, judges, potential contestants...everything, all drawn up in a neat grid, complete with cost and revenue estimates. Jo had designed the flyers, and (with Soos’ help) constructed and arranged the outdoor theater. Tonight was the night, and Jolene had to admit, they’d really pulled it off. Their persistent advertising (which hinged on badgering) and the flyers they’d plastered all over town had drawn a sizable crowd. The rows of chairs they had set out were nearly full. And Soos had even set up lights and a mic. Currently, said mic was in his hand, as he stood a bit stiffly in the center of the stage.

“But her aim is getting better!” Soos said cheerfully, in a voice slightly more gravelly than his own but not reminiscent of Grunkle Stan in the slightest. Stan had in fact only just told that joke a few minutes prior, when he had occupied the stage, doing stand-up and embracing the ‘BOO’s of the audience. The audience was absolutely eating up Soos’ act, however, laughing riotously at his weak impressions and privately patting themselves on the back for getting the references.

Jolene couldn’t help but laugh along a little, watching the pride blooming on Soos’ face at the reception he was getting. He wasn’t looking out at the Gravity Falls residents seated in rows in front of him, however, but at the screen of his laptop, open on a stool by the front of the stage. The tinny sound of Melody’s laugh over the video-call was barely audible over the crowd, but from where Jo and her siblings stood, the screen was in view. They could see Melody laughing and giving Soos an encouraging thumbs-up.

Soos stopped in his emulation of Stan and gradually the laughing and hooting of the crowd subsided. He hadn’t taken his eyes off Melody, and cautiously, he raised an eyebrow in her direction, as if asking her something. “You’ve got this, baby, they’re loving it. I think you should go for it.” Melody’s voice was comprehensible only to Soos, the triplets by the side of the stage in what passed for the wings, and the judges at a card table by the foot of the stage. Soos nodded resolutely, his face taking on a daring expression, “AHAHAHA!” he gave a sudden cackle, nothing like his own friendly chortle, “I’m going to make deals and take over the world!” An astonished gasp rippled through the crowd.

Beside her, Dipper muttered an impressed expletive under his breath. Jo risked looking over at him. Both of her triplets had good days and bad days, even years later, but Dipper was more prone to beat himself up. However, she could detect no sign of distress, and if it were there she would have seen it. Dipper had his hands in his jeans pockets, his demeanor relaxed. His eyebrows were raised, causing a single wrinkle to crease across the birthmark on his forehead, but his expression was one of admiration and surprise. His brown eyes were glued to Soos, but with no more distress than there would have been if he had been watching a particularly compelling documentary on hauntings.

“That takes some marbles,” Mabel said, her eyes wide but still grinning at the stage. She crossed her arms in a relaxed challenge, eager to see where Soos was going with this.

“Shake my hand, stupid mortal person,” Soos said, sticking out his right hand a bit awkwardly, his face relaxing slightly as a few people in the crowd chuckled nervously, Grunkle Ford the only one laughing outright,  “I am super flat and you have more eyes than me but don’t let my looks deceive you! I am a mean triangle guy and I rule nightmares and stuff.”

“That’s...not how Bill talked, right?” Jo asked, having ascertained that neither of her sibs was likely to begin hyperventilating. She dearly hoped that the entire town hadn’t somehow been fooled by the stilted voice Soos was using.

“Not even remotely.” Dipper said, laughing in earnest now at the absurdity of Soos’ performance. Soos cackled unnervingly again, “The laugh is the closest.”

“Reality is fake and the galaxy is artificial!” Soos said, triumphantly, in closing, “Bye gold! Byyeee!” He then mimicked dropping the mic, but opted instead to place it gently on the floor. Mabel rushed onto the stage and grabbed the mic from the floor.

“Giiiiiive it up for impressions by Soooooos!” she said, transitioning seamlessly into her rousing emcee voice, and the audience redoubled their uproarious applause, “I’d like to take this moment to ask the lovely Miss Melody if she would do us the favor of being an honorary cyber-y judge?” Mabel held the mic towards the laptop, but it did not pick up Melody’s response from the speakers. Mabel heard her, however, and scooped up the laptop, depositing it on the judges’ table in front of Wendy, Lazy Susan, and Mayor Cutebiker, “Ladies and germs, she accepted! A round of applause for the abso-tively charmtastic Miss Melodyyyy!”

While the crowd humored Mabel with applause, Mabel met Jolene’s eyes. This is your chance, she was saying wordlessly. Mabel had been begging Jo to perform all night, and only one performance slot remained. Jolene felt her stomach somersault thinking about getting up in front of all those people and singing, and broke away from Mabel’s gaze by way of response. Averting her eyes from her sister, Jo saw Pacifica making her way to the front of the crowd, her face stern with determination. She watched mutely as Pacifica got the okay from Mabel and climbed onto the stage.

“You’re really not getting up there?” Dipper asked, trying to keep his tone gentle, as Mabel went about introducing Pacifica to the crowd of townspeople all of whom already knew who she was.

“Shut it,” Jo said, a little more sharply than she intended, “I forgot to bring my tuba.”

“Har har,” Dipper mocked, but his heart wasn’t in it and he dropped it. Jolene’s stomach was twisting uneasily, watching Pacifica pull up a track on her phone and place it on the stool, clearing her throat softly and getting ready to sing.  Why didn’t you just do it? She scolded herself, This was supposed to make it better, but you’re just letting Mabey down all over again! Pacifica started singing, and Jolene recognized it as a ballad cover of a pop hit by &sandra. Pacifica had a pretty voice, not a singer of outrageous talent, but certainly capable and she had stage presence. Jo had never heard her sing and had internally hoped that she would be awful, but she wasn’t awful at all. As the song reached its first chorus, Pacifica loosened up more, getting more into the performance and garnering a couple cheers and whistles from the otherwise attentively listening crowd.

Dipper was humming along softly. He had long since given up on concealing his love for pop music. In fact, of the three triplets, Jolene was the only one who rarely found a top 100 song worth listening to. That right there was a reason not to get up there, she wasn’t going to sing any song these people wanted to hear. They didn’t want to hear her, and she didn’t want them to hear her. She liked singing, she truly did, but it seemed disingenuous to do it in front of a crowd somehow. She liked to sing when she was in the shower, or alone in the woods, or lying in bed, her legs tangled with Mabel and Dipper’s. It seemed dishonest to do it when she didn’t feel it.

But Mabel had wanted her to, for some reason. Really wanted her to. Does she want me to embarrass myself because we embarrassed her? It didn’t really sound like Mabel to just want straightforward payback like that, but she didn’t really think that it would have been unfair for her sister to have felt that way. It had been a few months now, but when she thought about it, Jolene still felt sick with guilt over the way she and Dipper had forgotten the production of ‘Twelfth Night’ that Mabel had worked her ass off for. They had attended the first performance they could, sitting next to each other in the very first row while Mabel took care of business backstage. Once the house lights had dimmed and the first wonderfully, garishly bedazzled players had entered, Dipper had furtively grabbed Jo’s hand, squeezing it for dear life. He didn’t have to say anything. She knew that seeing Mabel’s hard work glittering under the stage lights, imbued with a little bit of that glitteriness that Mabel seemed to have in surplus, it made it all the more real. She knew the guilt churning in her stomach was the same guilt that churned in his. Mabel had poured so much of herself into this, worked at least as hard as they had on their expedition to Tahoe, devoted her life to it for months. Neither of them took for granted how they had hurt her.

There was so much Jo would change about that opening night if she could. She wouldn’t just have been there, she’d have gotten there early. She’d have brought Mabel snacks to keep her going, knowing she often forgot to eat when she was neck deep in a project. She’d have sat in the front row, with or without Dipper, and she would have cheered until she was hoarse. And if she had somehow still failed to make it to the damn play… well, needless to say she wouldn’t have done the rest over. When she’d said as much to Dipper once, he had pointed out to her how much good had come out of that debacle. Not only the recognition and opportunity (and cash prize) that came with the photos Mabel had gotten of the Lone Pine Mountain Devils practically by accident, but more importantly the transparency in their newly blossoming relationship. Even so, she was still having a difficult time trying to forgive herself. For embarrassing Mabel and letting her down, for recklessly putting herself and the two people she loved most in danger, she didn’t understand why they seemed to think any of it was forgivable.

And now Pacifica was singing when she should have been the one singing, and Mabel was standing on the other side of the stage, watching the performance and artfully avoiding Jolene’s gaze. The song was almost over and Jo wished it would just end already. Every note that Pacifica sang into that microphone, she found herself feeling just a little guiltier. Mabel had been so proud of everyone that had performed, no matter how poor their performance had been. She’d applauded them for their bravery as much as their talent. Aren’t I supposedly brave? Jolene asked herself bitterly. Even Toby Determined had gotten up their and tap danced, did that mean even he was braver than she?

Pacifica finished the song on a sustained note that to Jolene’s ear sounded a little flat, but the crowd was applauding her all the same. She did a somewhat affected little curtsy and said, “Thank you, everyone.” into the microphone before handing it off to Mabel and leaving the stage. As she passed, Jo tried not to glare at the blond girl. She’d never had any problem with Pacifica, but at the moment she wouldn’t have minded wiping the self-impressed smile off her face.

Mabel looked at Jo one last time, giving her an opening even though Pacifica’s slot had been the intended last one. Jo shook her head stiffly, almost automatically, telling herself that if she got up there this angry, she wouldn’t perform decently anyway. Really, she knew it was just stage fright, pure and simple. Mabel turned back to the audience, “Wowee, for a small town, there’s a crazy lot of talent up in here!” the crowd cheered for themselves, “Our esteemed judges have one tough decision ahead of them! They’ll have a quick chat to talk it over and then we’ll reveal the winnerrr!” She hopped down from the stage lightly, making her way to the judges’ table to check in with them. Mabel just didn’t get the way that this felt for Jo. Mabel didn’t have to do anything special for people to love her. She got onstage and just acted like herself and that was enough. But of course it was, Mabel positively glowed, no matter what she was doing. She didn’t realize it didn’t come that easily for everyone.

The judges conferred hotly for a few minutes before quieting down. Even without hearing their discourse, it was easy to tell that Mayor Cutebiker was voicing his concerns about Soos’ disregard for the Never Mind All That Act. Jo could see Mabel confirm that they were all okay with the verdict, each of them nodding in turn, before she climbed back onto the stage, “Ladies and gentlemen, after much consideration the judges have made their decision!” The audience cheered even though Mabel hadn’t announced much of anything yet, “Although there was some squabbling about the content of the winning act, the judges unanimously agreed that this person showed the most chutzpah!” The audience cheered louder, although Jo was sure some of them had no idea what chutzpah was, “Without further ado, I’d like you to put your hands together for tonight’s winner,” she paused theatrically, letting the anticipation build, before squeezing her eyes shut and gleefully yelling, “SOOOOOOOOOS!”

Soos clambered onto the stage, looking astonished and honored, his eyes tearful, “Oh wow, doods!”

“You win, dude!” Mabel chirped at Soos.

“Cool, what do I win?” Soos asked.

Mabel punched his shoulder playfully, “Bragging rights, of course!” she replied smoothly, “From now on,” she continued, wrapping an arm around Soos and gesturing broadly at the middle distance, “ You can tell anybody that asks and anybody that doesn’t that you and only you were the victor of the first ever Mabel Pines Talentacular Spectacular!”

“Oh man, dood,” Soos said, his eyes narrowing, his fist clenching for emphasis, “That is one killer prize. Thank you doods so much!”

The crowd applauded for a moment longer before they began filing out of their chairs, walking to their cars, and leaving. Soos got down from the stage and retrieved his laptop, excitedly relaying the events of the talent show to Melody as if she hadn’t just witnessed it herself. She could be heard matching his delighted tone, laughing at each punch line all over again, and telling him how proud she was. Before the last people had gone, Wendy started folding and gathering the chairs the audience had occupied and Dipper and Jo joined in. Mabel set about gathering garbage into a trash bag while Stan and Ford set about dismantling the makeshift stage. In the span of half an hour, they had the ‘theater’ turned back into a yard, leaving the stacked folding chairs and the wooden pallets and boards to store away the following day. Stan and Ford went off to bed, up a few hours later than their standard bedtime. Soos and Wendy hung around a little longer, joking about some of the night’s acts with the triplets before saying their goodnights and heading off to their respective homes.

The triplets trudged up the stairs to the attic without speaking. They had had a long day prepping for the talent show and it was quite late now. Jolene’s body was tired but her mind was whizzing in circles. Mabel had been unusually quiet while they had been cleaning up in the yard, and even when they’d been hanging out with Wendy and Soos. Dipper entered the room first, opening the closet and eagerly stuffing his tuba case in the bottom where he could go back to trying to forget about it.

Without shame or ceremony, Mabel went to the trunk by the foot of her and Jo’s bunk bed (the top bunk of which was now very rarely occupied) and set about changing into her pajamas. She’d worn a grass green dress for the talent show, a small pink handkerchief tied smartly around her throat in a style that Jolene didn’t think anyone else would be able to carry off without looking like a total tool. As always, Mabel had looked luminous, the image of summer itself in green and pink with her hair loose and wild around her shoulders. And now she was matter-of-factly draping the green dress over the baseboard of the bottom bunk, reaching up behind her back to deftly unclasp her bra.

Jolene knew her sister’s body as well as her own (not that she could ever know it well enough) but it seemed somehow immodest to watch her like this at the moment. She averted her eyes, feeling sickened with herself that she could let herself enjoy Mabel’s nudity when she’d only just hurt her. She sat down heavily on the bottom bunk and tugged off her scuffed orange hightops, letting them fall where they would. Across from her, Dipper had removed his shoes and socks and was unbuttoning his jeans just as she looked over. There was something somehow less graceful and wistful about the way a boy got undressed, she thought. It wasn’t a complaint, just an observation. She’d had had plenty of time to observe and relish the differences and similarities between her two lovers in the past couple months and it always gave her a sort of satisfaction to see them repeat a specific quirk she appreciated. She watched Dipper remove his pants, the unrestrained way he kicked them off so different from the gentle way that Mabel handled her more fragile garments.

In boxers and tee shirt, Dipper plopped back on his bed with a relaxed sigh. Folding his hands behind his head, he said conversationally, “I think the show was a success.”

“Sorry you didn’t win, bro-bro.” Mabel said, with a small snide smile.

Dipper snorted, “Oh, yeah, I really thought I had it in the bag. I mean, Sev’ral Timez’s never-released magnum opus ‘Mabel Girl’ on the tuba? That’s an instant classic.”

“You’d think so, wouldn’t you?” Mabel said, slipping into an airy aqua nightgown.

“I was really depending on winning,” Dipper said with a mock-grave expression, “I don’t know how I’ll pay my bills without those bragging rights.”

“Hey, that was a good save!” Mabel countered, grabbing a brush and tugging it through her wind-tangled hair.

“I’m not denying that,” he said, laughter bubbling up from his chest, “It was freaking masterful. I just can’t believe we didn’t come up with a prize!”

“I know, even with all your spreadsheets!” Jo kept her eyes trained on the floor as they conversed, “It’s a good thing Soos won,” Mabel pointed, “If it had been Pacifica we’d be looking at a lawsuit.”

“True.” Dipper said, grabbing his hat off his head and hanging it from the bedpost, “She sang pretty well, huh?”

“Yeah.” Mabel said, lightly, before stepping into her bunny slippers and leaving for the bathroom. They were silent until after they heard Mabel brushing her teeth.

“I can’t believe you did that, Dipman.” Jo said, leaning back on her arms.

“Wait, what?” Dipper said, still absentmindedly ruffling his own hair, loosening it up after it had been cooped up under his hat all day, “Mabel and Pacifica worked their shit out ages ago, I was just saying.”

“No, not that, Dip,” Jolene said impatiently, ready to not hear another word about Pacifica’s performing in her place, “I can’t believe you got up there with your fricking tuba and did a Sev’ral Timez song that only Mabel’s ever even heard.”

Dipper propped himself up on his wiry arms and shrugged, “Ain’t no thang,” he said, with good-natured sarcasm, trying to get a smirk out of his mysteriously grumpy sister. His dorky attempts at nonchalance usually succeeded at that when all else failed.

Not this time, “Why’d you do it, though?”

Dipper frowned slightly, “To make Mabel smile.” he said, as if it were the simplest thing in the world. Because it is, genius, Jo chastised herself, It’s really fucking simple and you didn’t do the obvious good girlfriend thing. Scratch that! Just the good friend thing!

Just as it was dawning on Dipper that Jolene was considerably more than run of the mill grumpy, Mabel came back into the room, kicking off her slippers and bee-lining for the bed, “Scoot yer boot,” she said to Jo, giving her shoulder a small nudge so she could crawl into the bed. Jo wanted nothing more than to lie down and curl into Mabel’s arms and leave this failure of a day behind her, but she couldn’t let herself do that. It wouldn’t be right. Jo could feel Dipper studying her, picking up on her distress but currently running through a mental flow chart of possible ways to address it.

“I’m so sorry, Mabes!” Jo said, the words bubbling out of her before she knew they were coming.

“Wha--?” Mabel began, caught off guard.

“I’m so fucking sorry!” the words continued gushing out of Jo, “I didn’t mean to let you down again, I wanted to make it up to you--I do want to make it up to you--but like that? I just, you know I hate public speaking and I wanted to, but I just couldn’t, and you worked so hard on this and it’s the stupid play all over again and--”

“Whooa there, cowgirl, slow your roll!” Mabel exclaimed, sitting up and putting her hand gently on the top of Jolene’s head, “What in the hey are you apologizing for?”

“For not singing.” Jolene said, her words suddenly thickening in her throat and resisting being spoken.

“You don’t need to apologize to me for that,” Mabel said, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world, “I’ve heard you sing. It’s the rest of the world that’s missing out. I just wanted to show you off, Jo-jo.”

“But I owe you more,” Jolene said, her voice raising slightly, “You worked so hard and I was supposed to do right by you this time!”

“First of all, you don’t owe us anything,” Dipper said evenly, as Mabel placed her hand on Jo’s back, moving it in soothing circles, “The second you start doing something because you feel obligated, we have a problem.” Dipper sat forward in bed, “You don’t need to apologize.”

Jolene hoped Mabel couldn’t feel the way she was trembling, “And second,” Mabel spoke up, adding onto what Dipper had said, “I worked so hard? You were busting your cute patootie putting up flyers all week and putting together the stage with Soos. I had an idea and you helped make it happen, Miss-Sis,” Jo could hear Mabel’s smile, “That’s doing right by me right there!”

“But that’s not enough!” Jo cried, feeling the tears welling in her eyes, “I put you through so much crap and I want to make you proud of m--”

“Oh my goshh, get down here, you absolute doof!” Mabel interjected, exasperated, grabbing Jolene around the waist and pulling her down into her embrace, “I am proud of you,” she said softly against Jo’s ear, squeezing her tightly from behind, “And that’s not changing.”

“But...you could’ve died,” Jolene said, plaintively, losing track of what she was apologizing for as the tears won out against her resolve.

“Plans-a-lot, do you copy?” Mabel said, her tone a bit urgent despite the gimmick, squeezing Jo tighter but lifting her head to look across the room at Dipper, “I’ve got a soldier sorely in need of a group hug. Requesting backup.”

Before Mabel had made it halfway through her plea, Dipper was across the room, wrapping his arms around his two sisters. Jolene’s face was pressed against Dipper’s chest and she wept openly against him, finding the smell of grass and sweat on his tee shirt oddly comforting. It was a very Dipper smell somehow, fresh and earthy and crisp. Mabel scooted back until she was very close to the wall, clutching Jo flush against her, making room so that Dipper could climb into the bed, never fully breaking their embrace. He squeezed them tighter, tucking Jo’s face into the crook of his shoulder.

Jo didn’t know how long she’d been crying when her tears slowed and her lips found Dipper’s. She tasted the salt of her tears between them, but his kiss was unhesitating, his lips gently but eagerly meeting hers, his tongue sweeping ever-so-gently, just into her mouth. There was something reassuring about the way his tongue approached her, not tentative, but subtle and entreating. It was like he was placing his hand in hers, but leaving it up to her to close her fingers. Dipper was not the most outwardly thoughtful person in the world, but his kisses were a glimpse into the infinite sweetness and goodness within him. It often felt to Jo as if Dipper was the only thing in the world that could calm her, that could contain her. His kiss was steady and encompassing, like the most reassuring of hugs.

As she met Dipper’s earnest kisses, Mabel spoke up, saying very gently beside her ear, “This wasn’t a test, and you didn’t fail it.” An ache of tenderness bloomed out from Jo’s chest at her words, realizing just how frightened she had been that she had failed. As if this talent show was some measure of how sorry she was, or how much she loved them, “And please stop with the blamey jazz in your head,” she stroked Jolene’s hair for emphasis causing her to sigh slightly into Dipper’s mouth, “If you guys hadn’t screwed up, we might never have gotten our shiz together. And this right here,” she pressed her cheek against Jo’s shoulder, “Is worth all the missed plays and angry devil birds in the whole universe, forever.”

Dipper broke into a smile, interrupting their kiss. Jo opened her eyes, to see his relaxed smile right it front of her, brown eyes soft even despite his lopsided grin, “It’s true, ya know,” he said, teasing gently and quickly kissing the tip of her nose, “A whole universe forever worth. That’s the scientific term.”

“Yo, bro,” Mabel said, lifting her head even as Jo giggled at Dipper’s comment, “Quit undermining my wooing!”

“I’m well and completely wooed, Mabey,” Jo assured her, with a watery smile, “I swear.”

Mabel grinned despite herself, her cheeks flushing slightly, “D’aww, listen to the smooth-talker,” she said, her hand finding and cupping Jo’s cheek, “Lemme woo you a little more just to be one hundred and ten percent suuuure.” Jolene was feeling well and thoroughly wooed as Mabel’s lips met hers. Sweet. There was just no word that fit Mabel better than the word sweet. She always wondered if it was a result of the sheer sugar intake, or if people really tasted like their personalities. She tried not to wonder what that would make her own flavor, but that was easy enough as kissing Mabel wasn’t exactly conducive to linear thought. Mabel’s kiss was not so heartbreakingly tender and almost polite like Dipper’s, no, it was fireworks bursting, cymbals crashing, fruit bubbling over with juice. If Dipper’s kisses contained her, it was Mabel’s that filled her. She opened her mouth, eager to catch all of Mabel’s sweetness on her tongue.

Beside them, Dipper laughed softly, “You always have to one-up me, don’t you?” he teased. Mabel pulled back just slightly, Jo catching her lip between her teeth to keep her from breaking their kiss entirely, but Mabel still sent a saucy wink at her brother over Jo. Before diving back into the kiss, proving Dipper’s point by running her hand intentionally up from Jo’s waist to her breast. Jo’s breath hitched just slightly at the contact as Dipper hissed out, “Oh, it’s on.”

An instant later, he had tackled Mabel, bumping his head on the top bunk but not letting it slow him down at all. Mabel wriggled and squealed as Dipper held her shoulders firmly in his hands, peppering her face and neck with fast, playful kisses. Jolene couldn’t help giggling at the spectacle. Gradually, Dipper’s kisses slowed and moved back towards the slow tenderness that was his norm. Mabel made a soft moan against him that sent a jolt through Jolene, surprised by the sudden shift to a sound she knew to be carnal in nature. She glanced down and found the cause, Dipper’s hips grinding slightly against Mabel’s.

The shift in her was instantaneous, as sudden as Mabel’s moan had been. She moved forward, eliciting a surprised gasp from Dipper’s as her lips found his neck, kissing firmly from his collarbone up to his ear. She took his earlobe swiftly into her mouth, in the way Mabel loved. Dipper, however, they had discovered, was very ticklish in that particular spot, and true to form, he yelped suddenly, breaking his and Mabel’s kiss and bonking his head on the upper bunk again. Jo snickered softly as she pushed him onto his back and climbed on top of him, claiming his lips again without further ado.

“Oooh, what’s this?” Mabel cooed, silly as ever despite the soft husky tone her voice had taken on. She sidled up flush against them, “Miss Jo-jo looks like she’s got a hankering for the Dipstick!” Dipper snorted but didn’t break their kiss, his hands tangling in her hair, “Well, let the Mabel be of assistance, my darlings.” Her hands slipped between Dipper and Jo’s bodies, surprising them both slightly. Reluctantly, Jo broke the kiss to see what Mabel was up to, only to be met with a mischievous smile as her fingers found the button of Jo’s jeans, raising an eyebrow challengingly as she slipped it through the buttonhole and began to drag the zipper down, teasingly slow.

Jo grinned, climbing off of Dipper just long enough for Mabel to peel her out of her jeans. She leaned down to kiss Mabel, kicking her bunched up jeans from her ankles. Dipper’s hand surprised her slightly, gently cupping her bottom before gliding around to the side to give her plain black undies a tug. He began kissing her shoulder while she kissed Mabel, his grip on her panties getting slightly more insistent. After a few moments of this treatment, he gave a small exasperated groan and took matters into his own hands, simply grabbing Jo by the waist and pulling her back on top of him. She managed the briefest of mock-glares before gamely diving back into his kisses, her veins electrifying each time she felt Dipper’s cock grind softly against her through the thin fabric of their underwear. Mabel sat up and decisively grabbed the hem of Jo’s tee shirt, pulling it up and off of her, breaking her and Dipper’s kiss for the briefest possible moment. Her small, nimble hands wasted no time, diving between them at once to fondle one of Jo’s breasts, carefully freeing the other from her bra and taking her nipple in her mouth.

Jo moaned into Dipper’s mouth at the stimulation, Mabel having spent many happy hours learning exactly what tooth to lip ratio worked the best. Without properly breaking the kiss, Dipper muttered a hoarse ‘oh my fucking god’ against Jo’s lips, looking down hungrily at his sisters. Jo opened her eyes (not knowing when exactly she had closed them) and glanced down at Mabel. As if the sight (and feel) of her sister’s ministrations wasn’t enough, she instantly followed Dipper’s gaze to Mabel’s free hand, hidden beneath the skirt of her nightgown. Involuntarily, the sight made Jo grind harder against Dipper and he gasped. He broke away from Jo’s kiss for a moment, his breath labored, his eyes glued to the movements of Mabel’s wrist. Without hesitation, he grabbed her wrist gently and her hand stilled, her mouth releasing Jo’s nipple so she could look at Dipper and find out why he had stopped her. Before she could even begin to formulate her question, she felt his hand slip under her nightgown, giving a small squeak as his fingers nudged her panties to the side. He ran his fingertips along the length of her wetness for a moment before pressing inside of her.

Jo relished the sound her sister made, the sound simultaneously primal and somehow delicate. She ground more insistently against Dipper’s erection, his hips rising to meet her, as she watched Mabel lay back beside him. Mabel and Dipper’s lips crashed against each other at once, and Jo thought as she had before how perfect it was the way that Dipper’s kisses held and Mabel’s kisses filled. The change in position twisted her nightgown up around her waist, and Jo bit her lip hard at the sight of her sister’s flat tummy, and the way her soft pink lips partly around Dipper’s finger, already glistening with her wetness. Jolene grunted softly, humping against Dipper in earnest now. Time didn’t exist, so hypnotized was she by the sight of the two beautiful, impassioned people before her.

Her trance was interrupted by Dipper’s free hand, his fingers grazing her hip, catching in the waistband of her undies and tugging. Getting the non-verbal signal and agreeing enthusiastically, Jo got up just enough to shimmy out of her underwear and to pull off Dipper’s boxers. Perched between his knees, she felt a tugging desire in the pit of her belly at the sight of Dipper’s penis, but couldn’t help smiling slightly at the way it swayed as his hips gave a couple of discreet thrusts. Although she could feel her own wetness between her thighs, before climbing back on top of him, she couldn’t resist taking him into her mouth. He gasped at the unexpected sensation, bucking against her face. She fell into a rhythm, sucking him steadily as she moved her mouth up and down, nearly off of him, and swirled her tongue lazily against him.

She glanced up to see Dipper and Mabel both watching her, Dipper’s fingers moving faster inside of Mabel. Mabel was trying to watch, but Jo could tell she was very close to cumming, recognizing the shade of her cheeks and her shortness of breath easily. She met Mabel’s eyes, never slowing her ministrations, and watched in disbelief as the moment of eye contact pushed Mabel over the edge. Jo’s eyes jumped at once to Mabel’s pussy, seeing the smallest flicker of her contractions around Dipper’s fingers.

Unable to wait any longer, Jo straddled Dipper again. He met her eyes intensely, his pupils dilated and dark and a faint sheen of sweat on his face. Reaching under herself, Jo carefully guided him to her entrance before easing her weight onto him. A delicious, guttural sound escaped him as he was engulfed in her wet heat. Mabel planted kisses all over his cheek and neck as he stared up at Jo, entranced. His hands, one still wet from Mabel found her hips and he pushed her down into his thrust.

Jo had resisted admitting her feelings for Dipper for so long, long after her feelings for Mabel had become undeniable. She had pushed her desire for him away, hoping that it would just evaporate. Of course, it never did and now she couldn’t believe how much better he felt than she ever could have imagined. It took no thought to fall into his rhythm, matching each other’s thrusts the most natural thing in the world.

She managed to tear her eyes away from Dipper’s intent face and darkly shining eyes to look at Mabel. She looked so luxuriously sensual, the aqua fabric in a frothy nimbus around her waist, her arms extended loosely above the cloud of dark curls, her wet flushed sex exposed, her face dewy and dreamy and pink. She had stopped peppering Dipper with kisses for a moment to watch their lovemaking. Absently, Jo’s hand strayed from Dipper’s chest, gliding along Mabel’s creamy thigh. Mabel gasped slightly, but her hips strained towards Jo, eagerly trying to meet her touch. Dipper grunted at the sight, thrusting even more deeply inside of Jo and dragging a moan from her. Jo trailed her fingers ever-so-lightly across Mabel’s lips, delighting in how insistently she bucked towards her from so small a touch. Without further hesitation, she dove two fingers deep inside her and Mabel cried out.

Dipper captured Mabel’s lips in his, interrupting her cry, thrusting desperately into Jo at a staccato pace. Jo met Dipper’s thrusts, her mind somewhere very far away as she relished the feel of him, the orgasm building steadily inside her belly, and the intense heat and slickness of that part of Mabel that Dipper had only just filled. Everything here was steam and flesh and sweet sweat and through it all, a pervading devotion that made Jo’s heart feel ready to break. She would give anything in the world not to ever hurt them again, to let nothing hurt them. Just being their sister, just knowing them at all was a blessing, being here in this transcendent world of pleasure with them was more than she could ever have asked for. She could tell that Mabel was close, those same familiar indicators on her face and her thighs trembling.

Jo’s orgasm crashed down upon her without warning. So deep in trance had she been, she wasn’t sure when she and Dipper had switched places, but there she was, underneath him, tremors of ecstasy shaking her to her core. He only lasted a few seconds longer than her, pulling out and clutching himself as he came on her quivering belly. He leaned down and bestowed her with a few more of those preciously sweet kisses before flopping down beside her. Again she was lying with Mabel to one side and Dipper to the other. While Dipper was gulping in lungfuls of air, Jo turned to check on Mabel. She was dazzled by the blissful smile with which she was met. She couldn’t help but smile back, as Mabel purred a quiet, “Heyyyy, Miss-Sisss…”

“Hi there,” Jo said slowly, unable to clear the cobwebs from her brain just yet. She said nothing for a moment and then, with a startled realization, asked, “Oh, man, Mabey. Did you…?” Her words failed her, no word seeming to come close to what she had just experienced.

“Mm-hmmmmmm,” Mabel replied with a slow, contented nod. Relieved that she hadn’t left Mabel hanging, Jo pulled Mabel to her shoulder. She luxuriated in the feeling of Mabel’s soft, misty skin against her. Just then, Dipper gave a sudden snore, causing Jo to start. Mabel giggled against Jo’s neck, “Guess we really tuckered the ole boy out.”

Jo grinned against Mabel’s forehead before planting a long, grateful kiss there, “I love you, Mabes. So fucking much.”

“I love you too, nerd.” Mabel said, barely above a whisper.

“I’m serious, Mabey. I’d do anything for you.” Jo said, suddenly overwhelmed with a need to make sure Mabel knew just exactly how adored she was. Mabel snickered, and Jo knew that laugh. That was the laughing at you in my head laugh, “What? What’s funny?”

“Nah, nah, just the lil teensy devil’s advocate in my head…” Mabel said lightly.

Dipper gave another loud snore as Jo insisted, “What’s that little shit saying now?”

“Now this isn’t what I think, it’s just a thing that my brain did,” Mabel said, as if that explanation would assuage anyone’s concerns, “Ms. Advocate said that you wouldn’t sing for me.”

“She’s wrong,” Jo said, without hesitation. Mabel raised an eyebrow sluggishly, “I will always sing for you. It was the crowd I don’t want to sing for.”

“...will you sing for me now?” she asked, giving Jo a doe-eyed upward glance from her spot on her shoulder.

“I will, Mabey, baby,” Jo said, phrasing it intentionally. She watched the grin spread on Mabel’s face as she recognized the in-joke, knowing immediately what Jo was going to sing, “Mabey, baby,” she crooned softly, barely above a whisper, “I’ll have you,” Mabel cuddled still closer, “Mabey, baby, you’ll be true,” Jo pulled Mabel near, curling lovingly into each other, “Mabey, baby, you will love me someday--”

“Surprise!” Mabel said, popping up suddenly and making Jo jump. She cocked her head quizzically, “I love you today.” Jo kissed her, hardly able to stop smiling long enough to do it right.