#he just wants to find mabel. she’s all he can clearly remember.

[grunklefordpines]

Dr. Stanford F. Pines, here.

I’ve just regained consciousness on the shore of Lake Gravity Falls—My lips have the faintest fish taste on them, and every bone and joint in my body feels like they’ve been ripped apart and put back in-place.

There is an aching in my chest, a tangle of knots in my stomach—Something is caught in my throat. I can barely speak.

Mabel.

Mabel?

Where is Mabel. I need to find Mabel.

[fangirlwriting-stories]

This Wasn't The Plan (But I'll Make it Work)

Summary: Twenty years after Mabel Pines accidentally shoved her brother into another dimension, she learns that there's a new set of twins in the Pines family. She's ecstatic when she goes down to meet them, only to discover that the parents of said twins are less so. Things get heated, bad fights ensue, and somehow, Mabel leaves with a baby in the back of her car.

Or, a combination Relativity and Reunion Falls where Stanley Pines grows up in Gravity Falls with his Great Aunt Mabel.

Author's Note: Yes I am aware of how niche the audience for this fic will be, but I just think combining Reunion Falls and Relativity Falls has a lot of opportunity for baby Stan and Ford angst. Plus it gives me an opportunity to write Stan growing up with an adult who actually loves him and appreciates him and wants him around and I can’t just not write that

There isn’t really going to be much of a cohesive storyline for this, it’s just going to be a bunch of scene ideas I have because I can do what I want. After I post the second one, I'll make a masterlist, and link that here. Just rest assured that whatever comes next it will give you plenty of reasons to hate Filbrick Pines.

Masterlist

...

It only takes Mabel one night to realize she’s going to need two cribs.

Working on the portal is many things— frustrating, confusing, dread-inducing, hopeless— but quiet is not one of them.  Mabel becomes acutely aware of this when she finally heads upstairs to go to bed, and hears Stanley wailing.  And he clearly hadn’t just started either, considering how bright red his face is when Mabel makes it up to her room and finds him crying in his crib.

Stanley is many things too— a complete shift to Mabel’s mental image of what her life would look like, a huge drain on her financial resources, the first creature since Waddles that she’d loved the second she saw him— but louder than two stories of basement and an interdimensional portal isn’t one of them.  But she can’t very well move the crib into the basement, Maria will ask questions about where it’s gone.

So, the next day, Mabel goes into town and buys a second crib, and writes off the questions by saying the first one broke.  Then she takes it down to the basement, and that night, after all of the customers leave the craft store, she carries Stanley down with her.

No, she doesn’t know what she’s going to do in a couple years when he’s old enough to remember this and she can’t just bring him downstairs with her, she’ll figure it out.

For now, it’s fine.  Stanley’s sleeping in the crib next to the control panel in the first room, as far away from the portal as she can put him, and when he cries, Mabel can stop what she’s doing and hold him until he falls back asleep.

He does bring a different problem, though.  Because Stanley may not be as loud as the portal and two floors of the house, but he is still loud.  And Mabel is not exactly at her least stressed when she’s working on the portal.

“You said you wanted this,” she mutters to herself as Stanley cries in the crib.  “You said you could handle it.  And you are not giving that man the satisfaction of being proven right.”

She hears Stanley take a deep breath in, and Mabel drops her head onto Journal 1 and covers her ears just before he lets out an ear-splitting scream.

She can’t remember the last time she’s slept through the night.  It’s either the portal, or it’s Stanley, or it’s the portal and Stanley.

God, she’s too old to be raising a kid.

Stanley keeps wailing, and Mabel forces herself out of the desk chair and over to the crib.

“Kid,” she says to Stanley, in a voice that she means to sound sweet but just ends up coming out exhausted.  “I don’t understand what the problem is.  I already checked your diaper, and I fed you before we came down here.  It hasn’t been long enough for you to be hungry yet.”

Stanley just continues to wail and squirm back and forth in the crib, until Mabel is finally forced to bend down and pick him up.

Almost as soon as he’s tucked inside her arms, Stanley quiets down and looks up at her.  He makes a happy babble noise.

Mabel gives a slightly hysterical laugh.  “Kiddo, that’s really sweet, but I kind of need both hands right now,” she says, gesturing to the notebook she’d been writing in and the journal next to it, as if Stanley has any clue what they mean.

Predictably, as a two month old baby, Stanley does not respond to this.

Mabel sighs and walks back over to the desk, propping the journal up against the back of it as best she can while holding Stanley, and then sitting them both down and picking up the pencil.  Her handwriting looks more than a little sloppy while focusing most of her attention on holding Stanley properly, but she writes as much as she can, until she feels her head starting to droop.

She really can’t afford to fall asleep while holding Stanley, so she pushes the chair back from the desk and stands.  Time to call it a night, she supposes.

Stanley tugs on her hair during the elevator ride up, but Mabel’s tired enough that she lets him, all the better to keep her awake.

Waddles must be alerted to the sound of her closing the vending machine door, because he comes running into the room and slams his head against Mabel’s legs, oinking happily.  Stanley babbles again in response, and then the two of them start talking back and forth.

Mabel smiles, exhausted but fond, and lets Waddles follow them both back up to her bedroom.

Waddles curls up happily in his bed, which is on the floor right next to Mabel’s, as soon as they get there.  Stanley is calm enough that when Mabel sets him down in his crib, he doesn’t start screaming again, and Mabel manages to sing to him long enough that his eyes slip shut.  Hopefully he’ll stay down for a few hours this time.

“God,” Mabel mutters to herself, looking from Stanley to Waddles.  “Dipper is going to kill me when he gets back and finds out there’s a kid and a pig living in his house.”

She forces a laugh, because the other option is to sob, and she’s too tired to cry tonight.

She barely manages to make it back to her bed before she falls asleep, clothes and all.  She does feel it when Waddles crawls up into the bed next to her, however.  Give it a couple years and Stanley will probably be doing that too.

She’s going to have to buy a bigger bed.

Ah, well.  It’s worth it for her pig and her boy.

[grayhyacinth]

A Tea Party

Is this another Gravity Falls fan fic?! I've been hooked on Gravity Falls (again). Anyways, enjoy something fun!

Links: ao3, tumblr, masterlist

“One order of our hotcakes! Coming right up!” you call out with a wide smile, effortlessly weaving between tables and customers. The Greasy’s Diner is packed to the brim, the clatter of cutlery and hum of conversation creating a symphony of Friday evening energy. The smell of sizzling bacon and freshly brewed coffee fills the air, mingling with the sweet scent of syrup as you glide past a table where a stack of pancakes is being devoured by a group of teenagers.

The diner itself, a quaint train car labeled "Gravity Falls 1883," is a relic of the town’s history, and tonight, it’s alive with the warmth and nostalgia of simpler times. The worn leather booths are filled with families and friends enjoying classic American comfort food—hamburgers, pancakes, biscuits and gravy, soda, and milkshakes, all made to satisfy both hunger and soul.

Lazy Susan, the heart and soul of the diner, oversees everything with her usual charm, her one perpetually closed eye giving her an endearing, slightly mysterious air. She’s been running this place for as long as anyone can remember, and her infectious laughter can be heard even over the din of the crowded room.

“Hey!” you shout over the noise as you approach the open window to the kitchen. “Got another ticket for ya!” You bend down a metal wire to pin the slip of paper, letting it snap back up with a satisfying twang.

“Thanks, (Y/n)!” The chef, whose name you’ve yet to recall, shoots you a playful finger gun, his other hand expertly flipping an omelet on the stove. The kitchen is a sensory overload of sizzling fats, bubbling sauces, and the constant rhythm of plates being prepped and passed out.

“No problem, dude,” you reply, smirking as you return the finger gun, before making your way back to Lazy Susan. The older woman is deep in conversation with a couple at the counter, their discussion sprinkled with the latest gossip from Gravity Falls. You catch snippets of their chatter—a local kid has gone missing, and the only clue left behind is a tiny red shoe fit for a doll.

You roll your eyes internally. Probably just some runaway who ruined the carpet with too much of playable slime, you think, stifling a grin. Parents can be scarier than any of the weird creatures around here.

“Hey there, ladies!”

Your attention snaps to the front door just as you reach for a glass to prep another milkshake. A grizzled old man saunters in, his hand raised high in a wave that’s a little too enthusiastic for someone his age. He’s got two kids in tow, and his black suit, with the missing fez, oozes with charisma—or at least, his version of it.

The boy, who you quickly recognize as Dipper, follows behind, rubbing his elbow, clearly embarrassed by the old man’s antics. The girl, Mabel, matches her great-uncle’s energy, waving confidently at the diner patrons as they find an empty booth.

You set down the rag and milkshake glass, grabbing three menus instead. The large red letters reading "Greasy’s Diner" stand out on the covers, framed by retro designs that scream classic Americana.

As you approach the booth, you paste on your best customer-pleasing smile. “Evening, Stan!” you say brightly, handing him a menu before turning to the twins. “How are you, Mabel?” You purposely ignore Dipper, even going as far as handing his menu to Mabel.

Dipper’s mood shifts the moment he spots you. He straightens up, as if caught off guard by your presence. “(Y/N)—” he start.

Mabel, ever the bubbly one, beats him to it. “(Y/n)! You’re working today!”

You smile back, genuinely pleased to see her. “Yep. Friday nights are usually the busiest. Wouldn’t want to miss out on the money.”

Stan cuts in with a wide grin, his voice booming across the diner. "Why, I like my money like I like my pancakes! Stacked high and never touched by anyone but me!" He chuckles, clearly pleased with his joke, and then adds, “Only I know how to properly appreciate a good stack!”

You laugh, though it’s a bit forced, but you appreciate the effort. He’s still a paying customer, you remind yourself, though you can’t help but find some amusement in his antics. “So, a stack of fresh, hot pancakes for you, then?”

“You betcha!” Stan says, swinging his arm proudly.

You turn your attention to the twins, holding your notepad ready. “And what about you two?” you ask, curiosity lacing your voice as you wait for their orders.

Dipper glances up at you, his confidence returning just a bit. “I’ll have the, uh… the usual,” he says, trying to sound nonchalant, but there’s a hint of something in his voice.

Mabel beams, clearly more interested in the interaction between you and her brother than the menu. Her eyes darts between the two of you. “I’ll have the biggest milkshake you can make!” she chirps, her eyes sparkling with excitement.

As you jot down the orders, you can’t help but notice the way Dipper’s gaze lingers on you, almost as if he’s trying to figure you out. There’s something different in the air tonight—an unspoken tension that’s annoying.

Walking away, you pin the order slip to the metal wire with a little more force than necessary, the clatter echoes in the busy diner. You try to shake off the strange feeling lingering from Dipper’s gaze, but it nags at you. What’s his problem, anyway?

It’s not the first time Dipper’s actions have left you feeling sidelined. You can’t help but remember the countless instances where his obsession with solving mysteries and spending time with Grunkle Ford took precedence over his promises to you. One memory, in particular, stands out:

A few weeks ago, you, Dipper, and Mabel had planned a simple day out together—nothing special, just some time to hang out, grab ice cream, and maybe catch a movie. It was supposed to be a break from all the supernatural chaos that constantly surrounded Gravity Falls.

But then, just as you were about to head out, Dipper received a call from Grunkle Ford. There was some new anomaly that needed investigating, and in an instant, Dipper’s focus shifted entirely. “I’m really sorry, but Ford needs me for this,” he had said, already halfway out the door before you could respond. “We’ll hang out later, I promise!”

“Later” never came. Dipper had spent the entire day with Ford, lost in whatever mystery they were unraveling. You wouldn’t even had mind his behavior, if he bothered to invite you!

You had tried to brush it off, telling yourself that Dipper didn’t mean any harm, that he just got caught up in the moment. But it wasn’t the first time this had happened. There were other days, other plans that had fallen because of some mystery that he had to solve with Ford. And it wasn’t just the cancellations. Even when you did something thoughtful for him—like covering for him during one of his late-night research sessions or helping him decode a cryptic passage in the journal—he rarely seemed to acknowledge it. There were no thanks, no gestures to return the favor. It was as if he took your support for granted.

Over time, those small slights and unfulfilled promises built up, leaving you feeling more like a convenient sidekick than a true partner in his adventures. You had your own interests, your own life, but it often felt like Dipper only noticed you when it served his latest quest.

You huffed loudly, to no one in particular, and busied yourself by filling up three glasses with water and ice, but your mind keeps drifting back to Dipper. Maybe he’s just trying to get under your skin, like usual. You roll your eyes at the thought, but the annoyance doesn’t fade.

“How’s the shift, sweetie?” An older man beckons you over, his warm smile instantly putting you at ease.

You return the smile, walking over to him with a friendly nod. You place the cups on a round silver tray, the ice clinking gently in the glass cups. “It’s busy, but that’s how I like it. How about you? How’s your evening going?”

The man chuckles, adjusting his cap. His finger laces around a mug of dark fizz, soda you presume. He brings it to his lips for a sip. “Oh, just fine. I’ve been coming to this diner since before you were born, I reckon. Always a pleasure to see a new face behind the counter. You’re doing a great job, kid.”

You laugh softly, leaning on the counter as you chat with him. “Well, thanks! I’m just trying to keep up with the pace around here. Greasy’s is a pretty lively spot.”

As you continue your pleasant conversation, you notice the older man’s eyes light up as he talks about his favorite memories of the diner. You find yourself genuinely enjoying the exchange, smiling and laughing as the workday stress melts away.

However, unbeknownst to you, Dipper’s expression darkens as he watches you and the older man chatting. He’s hands are clenched a little too tightly, and his jaw is set in a way that’s impossible to ignore.

Just as the older man begins telling a story, you hear a commotion coming from the booth where Dipper and his family are seated. Mabel is leaning across the table, whispering something to Stan with a mischievous grin. Her brother glances at them, his eyes narrowing slightly, and suddenly, you have the distinct feeling they’re plotting something.

Your suspicion is confirmed when Mabel raises her hand, calling you over. “(Y/n)! Can we get some extra napkins? I think we’re gonna need them!”

You raise an eyebrow, but nod, grabbing a handful of napkins from the dispenser and the round tray of ice cold water. As you approach their table, you notice Stan looking far too innocent, while Dipper avoids eye contact altogether, staring intently at the salt shaker as if it holds the secrets of the universe.

“Here you go,” you say, handing the napkins to Mabel. She beams up at you, but there’s a glint in her eye that makes you hesitate. You smoothly slide the cups of water to each customer. Something’s definitely up.

You glance at Stan, who’s grinning behind his menu, clearly trying to suppress a laugh. The con-man is a walking prankster, and with Mabel involved, there’s no telling what they’ve cooked up. Dipper finally peeks up at you, his cheeks slightly flushed, but he quickly looks away again when he catches your gaze

“Thanks, (Y/n)! You’re the best,” Mabel chirps, her tone a little too sweet. Before you can respond, she "accidentally" knocks over her cup of water, sending a cascade of ice cubes and liquid spilling across the table—right onto Dipper’s lap.

Dipper jumps up with a startled yelp, grabbing the napkins to frantically blot at the spreading wet patch on his pants. “Mabel!” he hisses, his face turning a deep shade of red.

“Oh no! Dipper, I’m so sorry!” Mabel exclaims, though the grin tugging at her lips betrays her true feelings.

Stan bursts out laughing, slapping the table with delight. “That’s my girl! Good one, Mabel!”

You bite your lip, trying not to laugh, but the sight of Dipper, usually so composed and serious, flailing around like that is too much. A snort escapes before you can stop it.

“Oh, so you think this is funny, huh?” Dipper snaps, glaring at you, but there’s no real anger in his voice—just frustration mixed with embarrassment.

“Maybe a little,” you tease, crossing your arms and raising an eyebrow. “Need some help, or do you got this?”

Dipper’s eyes narrow as he grabs a handful of napkins, blotting at the mess. “I’m fine, thanks,” he mutters, though the wet stain on his shirt suggests otherwise.

Mabel, still giggling, tries to cover for her brother. “Come on, Dipper, it’s not that bad. Besides, maybe (Y/n) can help you clean up. You know, since she’s so good at her job.”

You’re about to retort when Stan cuts in, still chuckling. “Yeah, yeah. And maybe after that, you two can work out all that weird tension between ya. It’s like watching a soap opera in here!”

Your cheeks heat up, and you shoot Stan a glare, but he just leans back, completely oblivious to how uncomfortable his comment made you feel. Dipper, on the other hand, looks like he wants to crawl under the table and disappear.

Trying to regain your composure, you grab a clean towel from the counter and toss it to Dipper. “Here, use this. And next time, try not to wear your drink.”

Dipper catches the towel, his expression softening slightly as he mumbles, “Thanks.”

You nod, turning to leave, but not before catching a glimpse of the small, appreciative smile he’s trying to hide.

As the evening continues, you find yourself busy with the usual rush of orders, but your mind keeps drifting back to the incident with Dipper. You can’t quite shake the image of his flustered expression or the way his eyes softened when he thanked you. It’s confusing and… uncomfortable? You couldn’t quite place a finger on it.

You glance over at the Pines family every now and then, noticing how Mabel happily slurps her confetti milkshake, chattering animatedly about a theater show she wants to see, while Stan devours his stack of pancakes. Dipper, on the other hand, seems quiet. He’s eating his burger, but his gaze occasionally flickers toward you, as if he’s lost in thought.

When the dinner rush finally starts to wind down, you take a moment to catch your breath, leaning against the counter. The atmosphere in the diner has mellowed out, with fewer customers and the soft hum of the radio becoming more apparent. You’re just about to head back to the kitchen when you notice Dipper standing up from the booth, his eyes scanning the diner before they land on you.

He hesitates, looking like he’s about to say something, but then he glances at Mabel and Stan, who are still engrossed in their meals. With a deep breath, Dipper makes his way over to you.

“Hey, (Y/n),” Dipper greets you, leaning against the counter. His hands are fidgeting with themselves. “So, have you heard the latest rumors about the missing kid?”

You raise an eyebrow. “You mean the one about the abducted children and the tiny red shoe they found at the latest crime scene?”

Dipper nods. “Yeah, that’s the one. I was actually going to check it out tonight. You know, see if I can figure out what’s really going on.” He pulls out a journal with the number three, flipping to a page. He flips it around and brings it up to your face. “You see, Ford and I took a sample from the scene and we think it has to do with this…”

You glance at the page in the journal, which features a cute drawing of a Victorian style doll with a pair of cartoonish eyes. “The doll: ‘Polly?’ What’s that supposed to be?”

Dipper leans in, his expression serious. “The story goes that Polly was once a beloved toy of a child who went missing years ago. Since then, she’s been wandering the town seeking lonely children to kidnap, hoping that one of them will love her.”

You raise an eyebrow. “And how exactly does she lure these kids?”

Dipper continues, his voice low. “It’s said that Polly’s presence is accompanied by a soft, haunting melody that only children can hear. She creates illusions of a warm, inviting home and plays with them until they trust her. Once they’re close enough, she tries to entice them to follow her and stay with her forever.” He clears his throat and notes quickly, “Though, Grunkle Ford never actually saw Polly. He only heard rumors and descriptions of her from other creatures he’s encounter.”

Scoffing, you place a hand on your hips and take a step back. You try to keep your tone casual, but a hint of sarcasm slips through. “Polly sounds like something straight out of a horror movie, Dipper. Who knows, maybe those monsters actually lied to Ford? Maybe she doesn’t even exist.”

Dipper’s voice raises in annoyance. He’s taken aback by your unbelief. “It might sound like a cliché, but the evidence we’ve found aligns with the description.” He points exaggerately at the image of the doll. “The missing children reports suggest something unusual is going on. If there’s even a chance that Polly is involved, we need to deal with it.”

You rolled your eyes, your frustration bubbling to the surface. “Who’s we? You didn’t need me then, so why do you need me now?”

Your words carry a sharp edge, and Dipper flinches slightly, clearly catching the reference to that time he stood you and Mabel up for monster hunting with Grunkle Ford.

Dipper’s eyes narrow slightly, but he doesn’t back down. “I know I ditched you, but this is different. This is about doing what we can to protect people. Don’t you want to protect Gravity Falls?” He waves a hand around at your customers. Their happy faces pangs your heart.

“There is no we in this, Pines,” you snap, shaking your head as you let out a loud, frustrated sigh. Pinching the bridge of your nose, you try to keep your irritation in check. “Look, I have enough on my plate as it is. I don’t want to get involved in another one of your mystery adventures.” You glance away, making your frustration obvious. “Why don’t you go ask Ford?”

Dipper shifts uncomfortably, his resolve wavering for just a moment before he steels himself. “Ford’s busy with his own stuff, and—look, I know it sounds crazy, but you’ve got a knack for handling these situations,” he insists, his voice firm but pleading. “I wouldn’t ask if I didn’t think you could help.”

You scoff, crossing your arms and refusing to look at him. “Oh, so now you need me? Where was that when you ditched us for Ford last time?”

Dipper’s face tightens, but he doesn’t back down. “I messed up then, I get it. But this isn’t about the past. It’s about what’s happening right now. We’re dealing with something dangerous, and I need someone I can count on. I need you.”

His words hang in the air, and for a moment, you can see the sincerity in his eyes—the same eyes that had once dismissed your insecurities about your friendship as unpredictable and unnecessary. It’s infuriating how he can just flip the script when it suits him, but there’s something about the way he’s looking at you now that gives you pause.

You let out a heavy breath, still reluctant but sensing the gravity of the situation. “Fine,” you mutter, half-annoyed, half-concerned. “But don’t think this means I’ve forgiven you. And if we end up in another life-threatening situation, you’re on your own, got it?”

Dipper nods, his expression softening with relief. “Got it. And… thanks. I won’t let you down this time. I’ll meet you at the house where the last kid was abducted at midnight”

You roll your eyes, but the slight dip in your guard shows that maybe, just maybe, you’re willing to give him one last chance. You walk away from the counter, feeling the weight of the evening ahead pressing down on you. The clock’s hands tick around the circle, and midnight approaches with relentless inevitability. You’ve already wrapped up your shift at Greasy’s Diner, and now, at home, you’re preparing a backpack filled with adventuring tools: a flashlight, a multi-tool, and a first aid kit. You double-lace your shoes, mentally preparing for whatever challenges the night might bring. The last thing you want is to be caught unprepared.

You glance up at the wall clock; it reads 11:40 PM. A deep dread settles in the pit of your stomach. This was the last thing you wanted to be doing today. With a resigned sigh, you throw on a thick jacket, feeling its weight as a reminder of the cold night ahead. You flick off the lights and check to make sure everything is in order.

Your aunt and uncle, exhausted from the day, had fallen asleep hours earlier. Their snoring from the bedroom reassures you that they’re not likely to wake up anytime soon. You quietly slip out of the house, making sure the door is securely locked behind you.

Outside, the chill of the night air bites at your cheeks as you pull the hood of your jacket up and shove your hands deep into your pockets. The quiet of the neighborhood is both eerie and comforting. The streetlights cast long shadows, and the only sounds are the distant hum of late-night traffic and the occasional rustle of wind through the trees.

You approach a rustic home made entirely of wood, from its walls to its rooftop. It’s wrapped with yellow tape from police officers, warning you to keep out of the crime scene. Beside the home is an old, beat-up vehicle parked in front of a small garage. The paint on the car is scratched and damaged, indicating it’s well-loved. On the small lawn was a pink plastic flamingo. A pair of sunglasses sat on top of it’s large beak.

You wait by the picket fence, hoping the neighbors won’t notice you loitering around. Glancing up at the stars, you notice they twinkle brightly, as if calling out to you.

Finally, Dipper arrives, huffing and puffing as he catches his breath. “You ready?”

You nod, pushing aside your lingering dread. “Yeah, let’s get this over with.”

You follow him as he leads the way, your footsteps crunching softly on the gravel path. Dipper ducks beneath the yellow tape, and then holds it higher to allow you to follow suit. The house is old and weather-beaten, with overgrown weeds encroaching on the yard. The dim light from a single streetlamp flickers erratically, casting eerie shadows.

Dipper stops near the front porch and pulls out a small flashlight, its beam cutting through the darkness. “We’ll start by checking here. Polly might have left more then just a red shoe behind.” He cracks open the slightly ajar door, it creaks loudly, notifying you of his rusted hinges.

As you both begin your search, the air grows colder, and the silence becomes almost deafening. The occasional creak of the house seems unnaturally loud. You move cautiously, scanning the area for anything out of place.

You approach a pile of toys in the living room, noticing some are faded and worn, while others are oddly pristine. “Hey, Dipper!” You call out to him. As he approaches, you knelt down and pick up plastic toy horse. “It’s like they’ve been left here for a while.

Dipper crouches down and examines them more closely. “Polly might use them to lure children, making it seem like she’s offering friendship.”

Your eyes fall on a small, delicate music box among the toys. Its paint is chipped, but it’s still intact. “This music box could be important. Do you think it’s connected?”

Dipper picks up the music box, turning it over in his hands. “Maybe. The journal mentioned a haunting melody. If this is what Polly uses, it could help.” He tilts it to one side, noticing a handle sticking out of the container. The brown haired boy begins cranking it, slowly and firmly until a melody begins playing.

You and Dipper stand frozen, recognizing the song. The music box’s tune lingering in the air, its hauntingly beautiful melody now accompanied by a ghostly, girlish voice singing softly in your minds. The eerie lyrics resonate with an unsettling charm:

Twinkle, twinkle, little star, follow me, we won’t go far. In the woods where shadows play, come with me, we’ll laugh and sway.

Skip and hop, the night is bright, in the dark, we’ll find delight. Close your eyes, and hear the tune, magic whispers, come real soon.

Twinkle, twinkle, stay with me, in this land of mystery. Through the night, and past the trees, let’s discover what there’s to see.

A shiver runs down your spine, and you glance nervously at Dipper, your throat tightening as a thick lump of fear settles in. “D-Did you hear that?” you whisper, your voice trembling.

Dipper’s face pales as he nods slowly, his eyes wide with apprehension. “Yeah, I heard it. It’s like the song is trying to reach out to us.” He takes a deep breath, trying to steady his nerves. His expression is resolute. “Let’s follow the melody.”

You shake your head, vehemently disagreeing with the person you thought was bravely foolish. “Look,” you took a step back and put your hands palm facing towards him. “I’m done with whatever this is. Ghosts? Monsters? Fine. But haunted dolls? Absolutely not. You and your endless mystery adventures can take a hike.” You jab your thumb back toward the door, making it crystal clear that this isn’t your cup of tea.

Dipper’s eyes narrow, his face hardening with determination. “I get that you’re scared, but this isn’t the time to back out. We’ve already started, and if we don’t follow the melody, we might miss a chance to stop whatever Polly’s planning.”

You cross your arms, scowling. “You think you’re so brave, don’t you? Always jumping into the unknown without thinking things through. Maybe you’re used to getting yourself into these messes, but I’ve got my own limits.”

Dipper takes a step closer, his tone sharp. “This isn’t about being brave or foolish. It’s about saving children before they all die.”

You glare at him, frustration clouding your judgement, developing your words into something more raw, more painful. “That’s all you care about, isn’t it? The adventure. The thrill. You’ve never once stopped to think about how this affects the people around you.”

Dipper’s taken aback, his expression faltering for a split second before he quickly recovers. “That’s not true. I care about—”

“About what? About saving the day? About being the hero?” You cut him off, your voice trembling with the weight of everything you’ve been holding back. “But what about me, Dipper? What about the fact that every time you drag us into one of your mysteries, we’re the ones who have to pick up the mess? You don’t even care that I’m scared out of my mind right now.”

Dipper opens his mouth to argue, but no words come out. He looks at you, really looks at you, and for a moment, you think he might finally understand. But then he shakes his head, his eyes show a lack of emotion, of empathy. “I do care, but it’s not about what we want or how we feel. It’s about doing what’s right.”

Your heart sinks, the finality of his words hitting you like a punch to the gut. “Of course,” you say bitterly, turning away from him. “It’s always about solving the mystery.”

Dipper reaches out, as if he wants to say something more, but you step back, avoiding his touch. The silence between you is heavy, filled with everything that’s been left unsaid.

You clench your fists, feeling a mix of anger and something else you can’t quite name. “Fine. But don’t expect me to follow blindly. If we’re doing this, you better have a plan that doesn’t involve us ending up as Polly’s next victims.”

The boy swallows his words, and turns away. “No problem,” Dipper says sarcastically, waving a hand dismissively as he heads towards the back door, the music box in hand. “Follow me. I bet I know where this thing is leading us.”

You both trudge through the dark woods, your flashlights cutting through the shadows that dance ominously on the tree trunks. Dipper had tossed the music box to you, instructing you to wind it up repeatedly. Despite the incessant, irritating melody, there’s something oddly soothing about it, a small comfort amid the tension.

“So,” you call out, peering over Dipper’s shoulder, “where exactly are we headed?”

Dipper is focused on journal 3, which he’s holding with a purple flashlight. The light reveals hidden text, and a small drawing in the corner, depicting field of flowers and a tea party, surrounded by doodles of stars.

He glances at you. “We’re trying to find this.” He points to the vague, almost insignificant drawing. “The rumors claim that Polly in a clearing by a lake.”

“…and you know where this is… how?” you ask, skeptically.

“Intuition,” Dipper replies with a shrug, as if it’s obvious. “But mainly because the music box is guiding us. It’s like a beacon. Without it, we’d be stumbling around blindly.”

You pause in step. Your eyes widen in disbelief. “So, you’re telling me that if we wander around randomly in the forest, we’ll eventually find Polly?”

“That’s the plan!” Dipper grins, looking both confident and a bit foolish.

You scowl, feeling a mix of irritation and reluctant admiration. “Great. So we’re just hoping the music box is as good as you think it is. I suppose if we end up lost or worse, we can thank your ‘intuition’ for it.”

Dipper’s grin falters slightly, but he maintains his proud expression. “We’re in this together now. Just keep winding the music box. We’ll find our way.”

You mutter under your breath, but your grip on the music box tightens. Despite your irritation, you’re almost envious of his lack of doubt. As you both push deeper into the forest, the night seems to close in around you, the eerie melody from the music box being the only grounding normalcy.

Finally, you notice the peaks of flowers emerging from the ground, growing more abundant as you approach. Beyond them, a clearing beside a lake comes into view. Then, your eyes fell onto the tea party that was described in the book.

What catches you off guard is the sight of an elaborate setting, a scene that would ordinarily evoke quaint charm but now strikes you as profoundly unsettling. The long table, set with intricate lace tablecloths, is laden with porcelain teapots, delicate cups, and an array of pastries that seem untouched, as if waiting for guests who will never arrive.

Seated around the table are numerous stuffed animals, each dressed in pastel-colored dresses and suits that shimmer softly in the moonlight. They sport tiny hats and monocles, their glassy eyes reflecting the dim glow of the shining stars. The stuffed animals are arranged as if in the middle of an animated conversation, their poses frozen mid-action—a teddy bear holding a teacup; a bunny poised with a strawberry, glazed scone; a dog with a red bowtie sitting politely; and a duck in a dapper suit, all seemingly caught in a moment of eternal tea-time.

Pastel balloons are tied to the backs of the chairs, their soft, muted colors creating a deceptive air of festivity. The balloons sway gently with the breeze, casting playful shadows that flicker across the scene. The entire setup exudes an air of mock merriment.

However, the true horror reveals itself as you take in the sight of the missing children sitting in between each stuffed animal They are sprawled around the table in a disturbingly serene manner. Their bodies positioned as though they had simply fallen asleep amidst the party. Their heads hang limply to the side, faces expressionless, and their mouths slightly ajar. Not a single noise escaped them as their pale faces barely take in a breath of air. Their clothes, once vibrant with life, now look out of place amidst the cheerful pastel decor.

The air is heavy with an unsettling stillness, and the soft, haunting melody from the music box persists, filling the silence. The children’s passive forms etch themselves into your mind, a haunting image that you know will stay with you.

Your breath hitches. You take a step back, your foot crushing a delicate poppy. “I-I don’t think—” Panic surges up your throat, choking off your breath and words. The sight is overwhelming, and you struggle to process it.

Dipper turns around and looks at you. You can see the frustration in his expression, the way his jaw tightens as he glares at you. “Are you seriously going to bail now?” he snaps, his voice edged with impatience. “We’ve always gotten through everything because we stick together. And now you’re just going to walk away?”

His words cut through the fog of your fear, anchoring you to the present. You glance up at him, seeing the earnest resolve in his eyes. But the sight behind him—the children, so unnaturally still—won’t leave your mind. “Do you see that?! What could your plan possibly do against—” You gesture wildly at the scene, your voice trembling with a mix of fear and disbelief. “That?!”

Dipper’s face hardens as he hears your hesitation, and there’s a flash of anger in his eyes. “You think I don’t get it? This is terrifying. But you’re the one person I thought I could count on, and you’re leaving on me when I need you the most?”

His words sting, and you can feel the weight of his disappointment pressing down on you. The sight of the children, so disturbingly still, tugs at your resolve. Your breath hitches again, the overwhelming situation pulling you in different directions.

“You think I don’t understand?” you counter, your voice shaking with fear and frustration. “This is too much! You’re acting like I’m just supposed to—”

Before you can finish, Dipper interrupts, his tone softer but still firm. “Look, I know I’ve messed up. I’ve said and done some things I shouldn’t have. But right now, we need each other.” He ends, confidently.

It’s so dismissive that it leaves you wide eyed in disbelief. He actually doesn’t care about you.

With a heavy sigh, you finally relent. “Okay, okay,” Feeling the weight of the situation and his words, you place two hands up in mock surrender. “Whatever. I’ll stay.”

Dipper’s face softens slightly, though the tension remains. Without another word, he begins walking up to the clearing. The faint glow of his flashlight dances ahead, casting flickering shadows on the walls. You follow closely behind.

As you approach the long table, your eyes are drawn to a striking figure perched at the head of the table. There, on top of a tall, ornate stool, sits a stunning Victorian doll, commanding the center of attention. Her golden blonde curls are meticulously arranged, cascading down her back. Atop her head is a baby pink bonnet with an elaborate lace trim, secured with matching ribbons that flutter gently in the breeze, as if beckoning you closer.

The gown is a soft pastel shade—baby pink—adding to its ethereal charm. The bodice of the dress is fitted, accentuating the doll's delicate form, and features a high lace, white collar that frames her porcelain neck with intricate patterns. At the center was a bright blue broach.

The skirt of the dress featured multiple layers of fabric. The top layer of the skirt is adorned with delicate lace trim, which falls in soft, scalloped edges, and is decorated with tiny rosettes. The hem of the skirt is finished with a delicate lace ruffle, giving it a dreamy, almost fairytale quality.

On her feet were a pair of lace socks. One foot had an accompanying red shoe. The other was missing it.

You look at Dipper, who is also frozen, his eyes wide with uncertainty. Before he can speak, a loud, shrill voice interrupts.

“Uninvited guests!” The voice echoes through the clearing, causing both of you to jump.

Your gaze snaps to the source of the voice. You scan the attendees—stuffed animals and the motionless children—before your eyes settle on the doll. Her beautiful porcelain face, pale and delicate, displays two rosy cheeks and a soft, closed smile. Her eyes are shut tight, but a chill runs down your spine as you wonder—did she just... speak?

The voice carries a singsong quality as it continues. “Welcome to my party, but you’re terribly late! The fun is about to begin, and I do hate to wait.” The doll’s arm raises slightly, her hand perpetually open. Though she cannot truly point, the gesture directs your attention toward two chairs set at the far end of the table. These chairs, ornately decorated, are clearly intended for the guests of honor—chairs that seem to beckon with a chilling invitation.

The air grows colder, and the haunting melody from the music box had long since muted in place. The doll’s gaze remains fixed ahead, her closed eyes concealing whatever dark intentions lie behind them.

“You’re just in time for tea,” the doll continues, “So come and sit, don’t let it be.”

Dipper shifts his weight from one foot to another. He glances at you, and then says. “O-Oh um, we’re not here—”

You interrupt him, your voice laced with urgency. “Sure! Don’t mind if we do!” You grab his arm and yank him along, leaning in close to his ear. One hand shields his ear from the doll’s sight as you whisper harshly, “We have to play along. Don’t make it angry, Dipper. The last thing we need is for that thing to think we’re party crashers.”

Dipper’s eyes widen in realization, and he nods vigorously. “Okay. Sure. That sounds good.” He gives three uncertain confirmations.

You both approach the ornate chairs at the head of the table, their plush, pastel-colored cushions inviting and deceptively comforting. As you sit, the cushions mold around you, cradling your weight with a softness that feels almost too soothing, as if coaxing you to relax.

The doll’s face remains fixed in its serene smile, her closed eyes seemingly gleaming with satisfaction. Her hand drops back down to her side, and instead, a white teapot adorned with pink bows rises from the table, hovering gently in the air.

With a whimsical lilt in her voice, the doll says, “I do hope you’re hungry, for tea and cake we’ve got. But before we begin, a little joke—don’t you think that’s a lot?”

She pauses, as if waiting for a response, then continues with a playful tone, “Why did the teacup frown and pout? It lost its sugar and cream, without a doubt!”

The eerie laughter that follows is almost mechanical, as if it’s been rehearsed. The stuffed animals begin to jiggle and bounce in their seats. It’s as if the stuffed animals are performing a grim, choreographed routine, their movements and laughter meticulously timed. Their glassy eyes seem to twinkle with an artificial delight, their stitched smiles stretching wider as they moved merrily.

You exchange a tense glance with Dipper, the bizarre nature of the scene amplifying your unease. You offer a stiff chuckle, which Dipper mirrors, attempting to blend in with the strange atmosphere.

Instantly, the laughter ceases, as if it were a switch that had been flipped. The sudden silence is nerve-racking, making your stiffened smile feel even more out of place.

The teapot glides across the table, its movements smooth and deliberate. It pauses in front of your and Dipper’s tea cups, the spout extending as it begins to pour a dark liquid. The steam curling from the cups carries a faintly burnt scent, mingling with the underlying bitterness.

The teapot sets itself down softly onto a lace doily, the porcelain clinking gently. You observe the tea as it settles in the cups, the dark liquid swirling slightly with the motion.

Her mechanical, yet oddly enchanting voice chimes in. “Would you like some milk or sugar in your tea? Or perhaps both, to make it sweet and neat?” Her eyes remains closed, her head was set straight, neither looking or tilting to observe the both of you.

The jar of sugar cubes and the small pitcher filled with milk lift gracefully into the air, floating over toward you with an almost magical precision. The doll’s eyes remain closed, but her posture is expectant, as if eagerly awaiting your choice.

Dipper glances at the hovering items, then at the doll. “Um… neither?” he says hesitantly. The doll’s serene smile twitches at the edges, her head tilting slightly to the side in a manner that seems almost disappointed.

A moment passes. One long moment.

You can almost feel the shift in atmosphere, a cold weight settling over you as you realize the doll’s displeasure. To avoid any further ire, you swallow hard and stammer, “S-Sugar… please.” You quickly add, “Thank you,” hoping to placate the doll and salvage the situation.

Polly’s smile smoothly returns to its original, serene curve. She straightens her head back to its normal position, her posture relaxing as if satisfied with your response.

"How many sugar cubes shall I add?" Polly inquires, her shrill voice directs its attention towards you. "Just one? Or two? Or perhaps more—make sure to choose with care, for sweetness brings delight or despair."

Her hand, though rigid and fixed, seems to gesture towards the jar of sugar cubes with an almost imperceptible twitch, as if hinting at the gravity of your decision. She giggles, enjoying her jokes.

“T-Two is fine,” you squeak out, your voice trembling with fear.

Two sugar cubes, lifted by a silver spoon, float gracefully from the jar and tumble into your tea, where they dissolve into the dark liquid with a soft hiss. The milk and sugar set themselves back on their respective lace doilies with a gentle flutter.

An oppressive silence falls over the clearing. The stars above shine brightly, but their light only amplifies the eerie stillness of the field—no insects buzz, no rustling from hidden creatures. Just an unsettling quiet.

“Drink,” Polly demands, her voice now stripped of its rhyming whimsy. The sudden shift in tone sends a chill down your spine. Your gaze flits between Dipper, the doll, and your cup of tea, the weight of Polly’s command pressing down on you as you reluctantly prepare to sip.

As you lift the cup to your lips, your hand trembling, Dipper suddenly springs to his feet.

“Actually um,” Dipper begins, his voice slightly wavering but attempting to sound confident, “we’re not here to play. We wanted to ask you a question.” He glances over at you, visibly relieved that the focus has shifted off the tea, but his satisfaction quickly fades as he sees the dread in your eyes.

Polly’s eyes suddenly snap open. They are a startlingly bright blue, the same shade as the broach on her dress. Her gaze locks onto Dipper, the intensity of her stare making you squirm.

Polly's grin remains fixed, her lips curling slightly as she begins to speak in a sing-song.

“Questions and answers, the game we play, but you must sip your tea before you sway. Ask away if you dare to pry, but remember, there’s no going back once you try.”

Her eyes twinkle with a hint of mischief as she continues.

“Words have power, as you’ll soon see, one sip and you’ll uncover what’s meant to be. But if you refuse, there’s a price to pay, and the answers you seek may slip away.”

Dipper swallows hard, his resolve wavering under Polly’s relentless gaze. “We’re just trying to find out what happened to the missing kids. Can you help us?”

Polly’s smile widens, her eyes never leaving Dipper. “Ah, the missing ones, so close to our hearts, But to learn their fate, the tea must start. Sip and reveal what lies beneath, or face the consequences of your disbelief.”

“Dipper!” You lean over your chair, grabbing at his vest with a tight grip. The fabric bunches up in your hand as you tug him closer. “We have to play along,” you insist, your voice a low, urgent hiss. The frustration in your tone seems to only aggravate him further, and he shakes off your hand with a scowl.

“No way!” he hisses back, his voice laced with panic. “We don’t know what’s in that thing!”

You turn your attention back to the tea cup, its dark liquid swirling ominously. The fear of what’s inside is unnerves you, but drinking it is the only way to get Polly to cooperate. With a determined breath, you lift the cup and lock eyes with Polly, who’s watching you intently. “If I drink this, will you cooperate with us?” you ask, trying to keep your voice steady despite the lump in your throat.

Polly’s eyes lock onto yours with an unnerving intensity as she considers your offer. The eerie, porcelain doll remains perfectly still, her unsettling smile never wavering.

“Ah, a brave soul, how rare to see,” she begins, her voice lilting in a rhythmic, almost melodic tone. “A sip from the cup, and questions shall be free.”

You breath out, almost sighing. With a final, resolute glance at Dipper, who watches with anxiety, you lift the cup to your lips. The liquid inside is dark and opaque, its aroma bitter and uninviting. Polly’s gaze follows every movement with a sinister patience.

You take a long sip of the black tea. The liquid is shockingly hot and has a taste that is both earthy and bitter, lingering on your tongue. You swallow, feeling the warmth spread through your chest.

Polly remains fixed on you, her eyes unblinking and intensely focused. Her smile doesn’t waver as you put the cup back down on the table

“Well done,” the doll tilts its head, pleased by your action. “You’ve proven you’re willing to play. Now, tell me what you seek, and I’ll give you a chance to speak.”

You opened your mouth and began, “How do we convince you to give us the missing children?”

The Victorian doll stands up her short legs seems to balance her on top of the stool. “Tell me why you seek to save the children from their dream. For here with me, they are content and serene. They dream of love, their hearts entwined, with parents and loved ones, all perfectly aligned.”

“Because,” you stood up as well, uncomfortable with how indominable she appeared. “They need to return to their actual parents who miss them!”

Polly’s eyes, now bright and gleaming, open wider. Her voice, though sweet, carries a hint of sorrow. “But you see,” she replies in a sing-song tone, “Their parents left them lonely, left them on their own. Deprived of the love and the attention they craved, so I whisked them away to a world they’d be saved.”

It was impossible to argue with her, you realized. She saw herself as an angel of saving grace for the lonely children of Gravity Falls. Nothing was going to change that. “What… will happen to them if they stay with you…?” You pause between each word as your voice grew into a dim whisper.

Polly’s porcelain smile remains, but her voice turns colder. “If they stay with me, dear, they’ll slumber here, sweet and dear. Their bodies will wither, and their spirits will fade, while I keep them close in the shade.” A chill runs down your spine as Polly’s words become clearer. Her serene face seems almost mocking as she continues. “They’ll dream of a world where they’re never alone, but time will pass and their bodies will moan. When their forms decay and their lives come to end, I’ll gently lay them where the waters blend.”

You and Dipper exchange worried glances as you take in the sight of the lake behind Polly. The realization hits you: beneath that calm surface, the lake likely holds the bodies of missing children of the past. A cold shiver runs down your spine. What has Dipper dragged you into?

Dipper seems to be formulating a plan, his eyes darting around the scene. He turns to you, urgency in his voice. “I need you to distract her while I find a way to defeat Polly. Can you do that?”

You stare at him, disbelief etched across your face. “Distract her?! How could I possibly—”

Before you can finish, Dipper suddenly tips over his teacup, sending its contents spilling onto the grass. The handle of the delicate cup cracks off and clatters to the ground. “Oops!” he exclaims with exaggerated nonchalance. “Can you handle that for me, (Y/n)?”

Your jaw drops as Dipper swiftly ducks beneath the table, vanishing from Polly's sight. The doll's gaze remains fixated on the spilled tea, her smile widening into an unsettling crescent. She murmurs something under her breath.

“Haha, w-what was that?” you stammer, taking an uncertain step away from the table.

Despite her facial muscles being unable to move, you can sense her eyes narrowing with displeasure.

Trying to buy time, you feign a cheerful demeanor. “Oh, Polly! Look at that mess! Isn’t it just the most amusing accident?” You wave your arms dramatically, hoping to divert her attention as Dipper figures out how to defeat her.

Polly finally responds after a pause. Her head snapping up to stare at you. “Oh, such a clumsy little thing, Making spills and causing a fling! But entertain me if you please, before I chase you to the trees!”

She begins to rise from her chair, her movements smooth yet unnervingly quick. You back away nervously, trying to keep her attention focused on you as she starts to follow you around the table and towards the lake.

With each step you take, Polly’s laughter rings out, a chilling melody that echoes across the clearing. She floats with an almost unnatural grace, her gaze fixed on you as you weave through the field, her intentions clear.

As you lead Polly in a wild chase, your heart pounds with anxiety. You approach the lake and then turn around to face her, you glance behind you into the murky depths below. Well, it seems like you have no where else to run. Just when you think you might be cornered, you see Dipper darting from beneath the table, clutching Polly’s red shoe and the music box.

He skids to a halt near the edge of the clearing, holding up the shoe and the box. “Polly!” he shouts, his voice carrying a mix of urgency and determination. “Your shoe is a key to this whole mess! And the music box—let’s see if it can bring your little party to an end!”

He quickly turns the handle on the music box and starts to play the haunting melody. The sound fills the air, and it appears as though the stars are drawing closer. Polly’s expression shifts from curiosity to agitation as she stops in her tracks, her eyes widening.

“You think a tune will save your day?” she shrieks, her voice cracking with frustration. “It’s not enough to keep me at bay!”

But Dipper’s plan is already in motion. And he yells, “(Y/N)! Get her!”

Realization sets in and your body moves before you’re ready. You lunge forward and grip the head of the doll pulling it towards you into an unyielding chokehold.

“What’s next?!” You gruff out, trying to keep a firm hold of the protesting doll as it tries to squirm out of your grasp.

He runs to you and holds up Polly’s red shoe, revealing a hidden compartment inside. He pulls out a shimmering, ornate key and waves it in front of her. “This key.” He announces triumphantly, “If you wind it into the keyhole in her back, she’ll stop moving as the spirit trapped inside will finally release.”

He quickly hands you the key, his hands trembling slightly from the adrenaline. You manage to pry open Polly’s back, revealing a small, ornate keyhole hidden beneath her delicate dress. With a deep breath, you carefully insert the key and start turning it.

As you wind the key, Polly’s movements become more sluggish. Her eyes, once wide with rage, begin to lose their focus, her form flickering as if struggling to maintain its shape.

“Keep going!” Dipper urges, his voice barely audible over the fading music. “You’re doing great!”

With each turn of the key, Polly’s protests grow weaker. Her once-terrifying grin softens, and her movements become more erratic. Finally, with a final, decisive click, the key reaches its limit. Polly’s body suddenly goes limp in your arms, her disturbing blue eyes still wide open.

A profound silence falls over the clearing as Polly begins to disintegrate into ash, leaving only her head behind. You and Dipper release the creepy objects, allowing it to gently fall into the grass.

Dipper steps forward, his face displays relief and exhaustion. “We did it,” he says, his voice filled with weary satisfaction. “Let’s get out of here before anything else happens.” He starts to walk away, his focus on the path ahead.

A moment passes.

When he notices the silence stretching longer than expected and doesn’t hear your footsteps following, he stops and turns around. His eyes search for you, and his heart skips a beat when he finally spots you standing still near the remnants of the broken tea party.

“(Y/n)…?” Dipper calls out, his voice tinged with concern.

You stand there, unmoving, a vacant expression on your face. Your eyes, usually full of life, are now glazed over, and a sinister smile curls your lips. Dipper’s stomach drops as he takes in the sight.

“You’re—” he begins, but his voice falters. The realization hits him like a cold wave. “No, no, no. This can’t be happening.”

He rushes back to your side, shaking you gently. “(Y/n), can you hear me? Snap out of it!”

But the smile on your face remains unnaturally wide, and your eyes stay fixed in a haunting stare. “Welcome to the party,” you say in a voice that’s not quite your own, echoing Polly’s eerie tone. “You’re the next guest of honor.”

Dipper’s heart races as he searches for a solution. He frantically looks around, his mind racing through every clue and piece of information he has. “No, this isn’t right,” he mutters to himself. “There has to be something…”

His gaze lands on the remnants of the doll and the now-silent music box. The realization strikes him again—Polly’s spirit might have latched onto you in a final act of revenge.

“Okay, think!” Dipper says, more to himself than anyone. “The key worked for Polly, so maybe there’s something left we can use.”

He runs away to frantically searches through the debris, his hands moving with urgency. As he works, he remembers the music box and its intricate mechanisms. With a desperate hope, he pries open the music box, hoping to find something that might help.

“I’m sorry,” he says, his voice cracking with guilt. “I should’ve been more careful. I should’ve—”

Walking slowly, deliberately towards the boy, you observe him carefully. Your voice is distorted as you respond in a manner that drew from the neglected depression caused by Dipper. “Left behind, I’ve grown so cold, now with this doll, my heart’s been sold.” You shake your head, trying to separate the sing-song voice from your own. “I told you, Dipper. I’m not a tool you can use whenever it’s convenient.” It’s barely above a whisper.

He finally looks at you. Really looks at you. The dawning realization hits him like a cold wave crashing over him. He understands now: this was all his doing. The doll had called out to lonely children, those who felt abandoned and neglected. It wasn’t just a matter of curiosity or adventure; it was a matter of deep, personal connection. The spirit that inhabited the doll had latched onto it because of its own loneliness when its original owner vanished. And now, that same spirit has attached itself to you.

Dipper’s heart races as he confronts the gravity of the situation. He stands, his palms slick with sweat, and he wipes them nervously against his vest. His eyes are filled with a mixture regret and desperation. “(Y/n),” he begins, his voice trembling slightly, “I... I’m so sorry. I didn’t realize... I didn’t see how my actions would lead to this. I thought I was just solving a mystery…”

You fail to reply, your expression a mask of hollow understanding. You tilt your head slightly, as if considering his words but not truly grasping them. The eerie calmness in your demeanor sends a shiver down Dipper’s spine. His hands tremble as he reaches out to you, the weight of his guilt and fear heavy in his heart.

With a deep breath, Dipper envelops you in a hug. You’re stiff against his body, and he’s stiffly hugging you back. His hands are placed awkwardly on your back, as if he’s unsure of where to place them. You can feel his heartbeat accelerating, each thud resonating with the frantic urgency in his chest. His face is flushed red, and the tips of his ears are crimson, revealing the depth of his feelings for you.

Yet, Dipper shrugs past his shyness and confronts you. His voice softens, and you can see the struggle in his eyes as he continues. “Look,” he says, his tone more earnest than before, “I know I can be a pain sometimes, and I know I’ve always let you down. I even say things that I regret. But… I…” He hesitates, taking a deep breath as if gathering the courage to finally say what’s been on his mind. “I’m sorry for calling you unpredictable. I’m sorry for calling your feelings unnecessary. I’m sorry for only seeking you out when it’s convenient for me.”

He pulls away slightly to look at you with sincerity, his voice almost breaking as he continues. “I never meant to make you feel like you didn’t matter, like your thoughts and feelings were less important than mine. I got so wrapped up in the mysteries and trying to prove myself that I forgot how much you’ve been there for me, even when I didn’t deserve it.”

He squeezes your body, a silent plea for you to believe him. “I don’t want you to feel like you’re just another part of the adventure. You’re more than that. You’re… important to me, in ways that go beyond all this craziness. I need you here, not just because of what we’re facing, but because… I need you.”

You struggle against the spirit's influence, your mind a battleground of despair and defiance. The doll’s voice echoes in your head, a cruel reminder of your loneliness and Dipper’s perceived neglect. You fight to hold onto your own thoughts, pushing back against the overwhelming darkness.

“I need you. We have a ton of bizarre mysteries to solve, and… well, I’m gonna need your expert opinion on the best milkshake flavors at Greasy’s Diner. And believe me, that's a crucial job.” He lets a hand go to cup your face gently. His thumb brushing against a tear that leaks from the corner of your eye. “So, how about it? Stay with me and I promise to bring you the most ridiculous milkshake combinations we can think of. Deal?”

With a surge of willpower, you manage to break through the spirit’s hold. You feel the pressure in your mind lift, the cold grip loosening as you regain control. A final burst of energy helps you push the spirit out, and you gasp for air, your chest heaving.

As the last remnants of the spirit dissipate, you collapse into Dipper’s embrace. You both fall, tumbling onto the fluffy grass. Your arms tremble slightly, and your breathing is ragged. Slowly, you wrap your arms around him, the hug coming out as an awkward yet sincere gesture. Dipper’s arms tighten around you, his grip warm and reassuring.

“Seriously?” You murmur into his shoulder, your voice still shaky. “I’m never messing with the supernatural again, Dipping Sauce.”

Dipper chuckles into your arms, his eyes softening with relief. He’s still flushed, but there’s a tender, grateful smile on his face. “Yeah… me either.” His voice filled with earnest emotion. “At least, not alone. Not without you.” He pauses. “And you’re important. More than you know.”

The two of you stayed lying in the grass under the stars for a while longer, the night air cool and calm. His embrace was comforting in comparison to the terror you just went through. Eventually, without saying a word, you both silently agreed it was time to head back to civilization.

The walk to your house was peaceful, Dipper’s hand gripping yours tightly, as if reassuring himself you were still there beside him.

When you reached your doorstep, you turned to him with a soft smile. “See you in the morning, Dipper,” you said, leaning in to place a quick kiss on his cheek.

His face lit up in a deep blush as he instinctively covered the spot where your lips had touched. “Y-Yeah, see you tomorrow, (Y/n),” he stammered, coughing awkwardly to hide his embarrassment.

You chuckled, finding his shy reaction utterly endearing. Turning to head inside, you were almost through the door when you heard his voice again.

“(Y/n)?”

You paused, hand still on the doorknob, turning just enough to see him standing there, his eyes earnest and filled with something unspoken. “What is it, Dipper?”

He hesitated for a moment before giving you a sheepish grin. “You think we could meet up at Greasy’s tomorrow? I’ve been working on this idea for the coolest milkshake ever, but… well, you’re the milkshake master, so…”

Your heart warmed at the thought, and you smiled. “Of course. I wouldn’t want you ruining my reputation with a bad milkshake experiment.”

He laughed, the tension easing between you. “Deal. Let’s create the best milkshake Gravity Falls has ever seen.”

With one last grin, you gave him a wave and stepped inside. But then, he says something else.

“(Y/n)?”

You full turn around this time and face him. “Dipper?”

Dipper stared at you for a long moment, his eyes distant, as if lost in thought. You could see the wheels turning in his head, like he was on the verge of saying something more. But then, he shook his head gently, a small, almost defeated smile tugging at his lips.

"Nothing. Good night, (Y/n)," he said softly, his voice barely above a whisper.

You paused, sensing there was something deeper lingering just beneath the surface. Part of you wanted to urge him to speak, to let out whatever was weighing on him. But for now, you let it be, trusting that whatever it was, Dipper would tell you when he was ready.

"Good night, Dipper," you said warmly before turning and slipping into your home, leaving him standing on the porch.

[nataliedanovelist]

GF - Timestuck AU: The Power of Mabel ch.1

While fighting over a time machine so one twin can win a pig or the other can win the heart of a girl, Mabel is left stranded in a snowy forest with no time machine and no brother. Oops.

ch.2

Beautiful artwork was created by @starstruck-loner​! THANK YOU SO MUCH SWEETIE I LOVE IT!!!

~~~~~~~~~~

Snow freckled the chilly January day lightly, like powdered sugar over a freshly baked pastry, sticking to each layer effortlessly and creating a blanket that completely covered the woods and the cabin nested between the trees. The atmosphere was still and stiff, like frozen icicles that were not going to start dripping any time soon. The air was bitter and unwelcoming, which was probably why no living thing was outside today. Today was the perfect day to burrow and sleep and keep warm with your own body heat.

A crack through space-time cut through the air. The crushing of tiny ice particles followed as two twelve-year-olds ran, one chasing the other, as the time-tape was heating up and buzzing. “This thing is getting hotter! Hot! Hot, hot, hot!” Mabel attempted to save her palms from burns by bouncing the tiny machine between her hands.

“What are you doing?!” Dipper demanded as Mabel bounced the tape-measure too hard and her twin reached a hand to catch it. He managed to catch it perfectly, like an athlete catching a baseball, and then was gone in a flash of baby-blue lightning.

Mabel’s eyes widened in sheer panic and she held her arms as a gust of wind blew and nearly froze her to her core. It felt like her skin was being pricked by mean sewing needles. She looked around wildly for her brother, for him to come back to this time and place immediately, because surely he would use the time machine to come back, but seconds ticked by and she was still alone.

Puffs of smoke decorated the wintry scene as she held her shivering body and looked at the shack. It wasn’t as colorful and welcoming and loud as the shack Mabel remembered, but she made herself consider that it was because there was no big sign or tourist-y things, and it was winter. Then a light turned on, the hall if Mabel remembered her summer home correctly, and the door opened.

The hope that Mabel had in her chest of seeing her great-uncle was gone, and replaced with fear and confusion. This man looked very much like Stan, though much younger, quite chubby and youthful, wearing a black t-shirt and blue plaid pajama-pants. He had the same face as a young-Stan, but with a more pink than orange nose, a cleft chin, fluffier hair that reminded Mabel of her’s when it was short, and different glasses. 

Mabel didn’t know what to do or how to react or how to feel. People change a lot when they age, sure, but this much? It was possible this person wasn’t Stan, but who else would look so similar to him and live in this house? Maybe this is the guy who lived here before Stan, and they just happen to look very similar. This is Gravity Falls, and though she and Dipper were still new to the town, it was a weird place where something like this could happen.

It also came to Mabel how odd the situation was for the man: a little girl was standing in a sweater and skirt outside his house in the winter. Would he try to send her home? She had no home to go to. She didn’t know what year this was, but if it was a time Stan didn’t live here, it must have been way before she was born, maybe even before her parents met. She was stranded.

But the man looked at her sympathetically and he seemed kind and worried. He grabbed a trenchcoat and called gently, “Hello. Are you okay?”

Mabel bit her lip. His voice was definitely not Grunkle Stan’s. A gust of wind made her shiver and her teeth chatter, and the man stepped into some slippers and walked up to her, draping the trenchcoat over her shoulders. “There there, that’s a very nice sweater, but it doesn’t seem to be keeping you warm, is it?”

“N-No.” Mabel shivered. “I… I used breathable yarn for…” She stopped. She was going to say how she used breathable yarn for the warm California weather, but she decided not to.

“You used?” The man repeated, rubbing her shoulders to try to make the trenchcoat work faster. “You made this?”

Mabel saw his excited grin and she smiled nervously. “Y-Yeah. I knit sweaters.”

The man bent his knees in front of her and studied her sweater. She held out an arm so he could see and his brown eyes sparkled. “That’s very impressive! I love sweaters!”

Mabel gasped happily. “C-C-Can I m-make you one?!”

The man looked taken back, but chuckled and stood. “Of course, but first let’s get you warm. How does hot chocolate sound?”

“Y-Yes, p-p-please.” Mabel shivered, and allowed the man to walk her into the house.

It was scaringly like the Mystery Shack, but so much was different. It was the same layout, the same house, but there was so much that was different. A coat rack stood by the door, holding a white lab coat with black rubber gloves in the pocket, some safety goggles like the ones in Mabel’s science classes, and Stan’s fez. Mabel stared at it. Well, okay it probably wasn’t Stan’s fez, but it was a maroon fez with a golden fish and a black tassle. 

There was a wood-burning stove alive in the living room, with a small box full of wood by it and a tiny stool. Instead of Grunkle Stan’s armchair, there was a red-velvet couch, a large writing desk, and the room was decorated with books, desks, papers, and jars and experiments. It was all strange, but warm and cozy with the fire going.

Mabel smiled as the man pulled out the tiny stool and gestured for her to sit by the stove. She obeyed and the coat was removed from her shoulders, but quickly replaced with a dark-green blanket.

“There, do you mind warming up here while I make your hot chocolate?” He asked, draping his trenchcoat over his arm.

Mabel shook her head and held her cold hands in front of the stove. “Thank you.”

The man smiled. “You’re welcome.” And he turned and left for where Mabel knew the kitchen was.

Sitting alone and feeling better as her body was getting warm, Mabel thought it all over. This man was clearly not her Grunkle Stan, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t nice or couldn’t help her. Any minute Dipper was going to come back for her, but until then she had to stay where she was. That’s what grown-ups told her to do if she was ever lost. Stay where you are until you’re found.

By the time Mabel was very comfortable, the man returned with two mugs of steaming hot chocolate with extra marshmallows, and handed one to the girl. “Here you are, my dear.”

“Thank you, sir.” Mabel sipped and hummed in delight as the man sat on the floor next to her.

“You’re very welcome.” He sipped his drink and added, “Now then, I have to ask, what were you doing out there? Did you get lost?”

Mabel’s face dropped and she nodded. “Uh, huh.”

“Hm, very well. That can easily happen when playing on a snow day.” The man said with a smile. “Why don’t I call our parents and we can arrange to have you back home safe?”

Mabel swallowed nervously. She bit her lip, looking down at her mug. She didn’t know what to say to that.

The man looked at her and noticed how scared she was. “Is something wrong?”

Mabel looked up at him, was met with a kind face, and whimpered, “I can’t call them.”

The man smiled sympathetically. “I’m sure you won’t get into too much trouble. Maybe a little, but it’s for the best to call them so we can get you home soon.”

Mabel shook her head and squeezed her stinging eyes shut. “They’re… not around.”

The man’s face dropped as Mabel scrubbed at her eyes. “Oh. I’m so sorry.”

Mabel only replied with a sniff and she sipped her hot chocolate.

“Is there someone I can call for you?” The man asked. “I’m sure there’s someone out there worried about you.”

Mabel bit her lip. “M-My brother… He’s still out there…”

“Is he lost, too?”

Mabel shrugged.

“Well,” The man held his cleft chin in thought. “I’m sure he’s out there looking for you. Perhaps then you should wait here until he comes here, and then we can send you to your guardian.”

“It’s just us.” Mabel muttered. “Just us.”

The man smiled. Mabel hoped he believed her brother was much older than her, or at least old enough to take care of her. That way she wasn’t really lying, just letting this man believe what he wanted to believe. Nothing wrong with that. “Okay. Still, you may stay here until he finds you.”

Mabel sniffed and wiped her nose with her sweater sleeve. “Thank you, sir.”

“Please, call me Ford.” He said and held out a hand to her.

Mabel smiled and shook his hand. “I’m Mabel.”

“Mabel, huh? That’s a beautiful name.”

“Thanks.” She looked down at their hands and her eyes widened. One, two, three, four, five, s-...

Ford pulled his hand free, his cheeks reddening as he sipped his hot chocolate, but Mabel was grinning at him happily and she gasped with joy, “You have six fingers?!”

Ford blinked at her, reminding Mabel of a startled owl, and he cleared his throat. “Um, y-yes. It’s a birth defect.”

“Nuh, huh! It’s cool! Can I see, please?” Mabel sat her mug on the floor by her feet.

The researcher didn’t like people staring at his hands, but this young girl wanted to look, it appears, in admiration, so Ford hesitantly gave her his hands and she held them lovingly, her eyes sparkling like stars.

“Wow! That’s neat! No wonder your hand shake was so friendly! It’s a whole finger friendlier than normal!” Mabel was then reminded that Dipper’s journal had a six-fingered hand on it.

The girl’s eyes widened as she wondered if she was meeting Dipper’s idol. It was possible. The journal Dipper had dated it in the 80s, and Dipper said that the author mysteriously disappeared. As exciting as it was to meet the Author of the Journals, all it did was put Mabel more at ease. If anyone can help her, he can.

Ford laughed and gave her hands a soft squeeze. “I like you! You’re weird.”

Mabel grinned, distracted from her thoughts and grateful for it. “I like you, too, Ford!”

[stephreynaart]

Gravity Falls - “Waiting”

Pop-Pop AU

Stan sits in a hospital waiting room, thinking about his life and the people he loves.

- - - -

This is kinda old, but I realized I never posted it on tumblr. Hope ya like it!

Lots of fluff, the only ships are Soos and Melody.

AO3 LINK

- - - -

It had a square aspect ratio. Ink pen and watercolor on white heat pressed cotton paper in a bland white frame. One single blue flower in a red vase with what looks like a yellowish shadow. One shadow going left, the other going right. The lack of confidence and inexperience was obvious, the lines were unfocused and jagged, the color plainly filled the shapes and gave no other visual interest to the image.

Below the frame was a small white card that read “Painting donated by Jessica Blaise from Gravity Falls Elementary School”

Stan scanned the painting at least 20 times while sitting in that chair. The too rough and too soft at the same time chair that had similar copies populating the almost white room he sat in. The wallpaper bouncing off light pinks and blues with tiny ducklings as a makeshift wainscoting was starting to irritate the old man. It was too bright, and the consistent buzz of the fluorescent lights seemed so loud. Stan adjusted himself in his chair, switching his crossed legs to a wider spread and leaned his head against the wall.

The only other stimulus in the room were a few posters promoting proper hand washing techniques, the play area with a small table and chairs with large blocks, crayons and that weird “game” with the metal wiring and wooden beads that’s in every waiting room Stan’s ever sat in. He played with the toys to give himself something to do after he read all the magazines. The novelty wore off fast.

The television mounted on the wall was airing some cooking channel with no sound and no subtitles. Looking at food when you haven’t eaten in a few hours was practically torture, so Stan had been averting his eyes.

There were other paintings on the wall, one was less of a painting, but instead a print of a painting. He doubted that the artist got any compensation from it, if they were still alive. The other was a charcoal drawing done by a student from the community college a town away. Another square, but the entire image was black, the brightest thing on the page was an intruding infant hand coming from the left with the arm fading into the dark background. The fingers seemingly mid-twitch and grabbing at something. The lighting was dynamic and interesting. Stan swore it was a drawing of a penis the first time he glanced at it, which resulted in his brother’s laughter. Stanley smiled at the memory, it was only a few hours ago, but he relishes any time he can make Stanford laugh.

Stan’s eyes darted at the door in the far corner when it opened suddenly. He eased back into his chair when the nurse crossed the room to talk with the receptionist. He couldn’t hear the conversation very well, but could tell they were just gossiping and making jokes. Nothing that was of his interest. So he looked back to the elementary school child’s painting and analyzed it again. His eyes were dry and he was tired. He wished he could sleep, the chair wasn’t comfortable enough and when he did managed to sleep, his neck was sore when he woke up. He was only lucky Ford let him use his shoulder as a pillow for a while. He looked to his left and noted the book his brother placed in the seat. It seemed thick and in what looked like Hebrew. Stan wasn’t very surprised Ford was fluent in the language they were acquainted with as children. Their grandparents on their father’s side were the last to be fully fluent in Hebrew. It was like his brother to be curious of their heritage, but Stan only remembered a few phrases and words he learned from holidays and special event when he had to recite anything in Temple.

Stan crossed his arms and glanced at the clock on the wall and let out an exasperated sigh. It had only been 10 minutes since he last checked the time. He wanted to be at home, be in his soft warm bed and getting ready to eat pancakes at this time in the morning.

He and Ford were on the porch of The Mystery Shack when Soos rushed them off to the hospital the yesterday afternoon. What he originally thought would be a couple of hours of waiting turned into almost twelve. Apparently labour can last a long time.

Stan wished he could be a witness for Soos and Melody like he was when Dipper and Mabel were born, but Melody wanted her privacy, which Stan could respect, but Soos wanted him there…..so he and Ford waited in this bright, annoyingly pastel waiting room, twiddling his thumbs awaiting the arrival of the new member of the mystery family. He was glad he was in at least comfortable clothes, some gray sweatpants and a sweater Mabel knitted for him that read “godfather”.

He was never clear on what the title entailed, but it was mentioned a few times by Soos’ grandmother and the kids insisted that Soos was intending to ask him. He hadn’t, but he didn’t protest Stan wearing the sweater. Whatever job godfathers had, he was willing to play the part if Soos were to ask him.

Stan looked at the double doors a few feet away that lead out of the waiting room and into the halls. His brother left to find something for them to eat, but was taking his sweet time. The turkey being basted on the television was no help in aiding his growling stomach.

He distracted himself by returning his thoughts to Soos and Melody. Just down the hall they were experiencing the strange and beautiful phenomenon that was witnessing the arrival of a brand new person. Stan remembered the feeling so clearly. His entire life he’s felt the presence of human beings. It’s inherent in most people to feel when someone is in the room with you, the other soul sharing the same space as you. Imagine being in a room with a set amount of people and someone else comes in, but imagine they came in without using a doorway. Just appearing seemingly out of thin air. Suddenly another person is with you, and they’re brand new to the world, a life full of potential and power. Yes, today is indeed a happy day, but no amount of positive thinking would ease Stan’s nerves. His foot began to bounce and his hands unconsciously began to fiddle with each other. He didn’t want to think anything would go wrong with Soos’ baby, but anything can happen and life is so fragile, especially at the start of it.

He recalled his nephew’s nervousness the day Dipper and Mabel were born. His hands were shaking and he was constantly checking on his wife and asking the doctors loads of questions. He didn’t fully understand the twins’ father’s behavior until the end of that day.

Mabel’s birth was swift and easy. Her mother only needed to push one and a half times before she was here. It was as if she was eager to meet everyone waiting for her. She cried like most babies do, but Stan could’ve sworn they were tears of joy. While Mabel was greeted with, “hello, beautiful”, “hi, sweetie” and “she’s perfect”, Her brother’s introduction to world started with, “what’s wrong?”, “wait, let me hold him”, and “he’s not moving”. Dipper was rushed out of the room before his mother got a chance to look at him. Stan managed to catch a glimpse of the horrifyingly blue tint on his great nephew’s tiny face. The memory still gave him chills. He remembered how much he wanted to hold Mabel, who began to fuss and cry, obviously missing her brother. He was terrified at the prospect of another incomplete set of twins in their family. After the longest 30 minute of his life, Stan’s great-nephew returned with a bright pink face, wailing with all the power his little lungs could produce. Once the twins were reunited in their mother’s arms, they settled down almost instantly. The doctors told their parents Dipper was significantly lighter in weight than his sister, but both were very strong and healthy. Every so often Stan thinks about Dipper and how much he has impacted his life. His thoughts lead to darker places and he questions if Ford would be here if Dipper wasn’t there to find the third journal. He shook his head as a cold shiver went up his spine.

Stan did his best to distract himself from revisiting the scare that Dipper caused him 16 years ago.

16 years…..17 in August

Stan blinked. The squishy, bright faces that stayed with him that first summer had changed significantly. They stayed in contact all year round and visited every summer since they were 12. But every in-person meeting was always a shock. Dipper was developing the square jaw Stan, both his brothers and nephew shared. He started to regularly wear glasses their second summer with the Stans. Poor kid will grow up looking like Filbrick like the rest of the Pines men. He reminded Stan of Ford at that age.

And Mabel…..

Stan will never get over how much she looks like his mother. It didn’t strike him until Soos and Melody’s wedding and she put her hair in a bun. She’s calmed her hyperactivity down a bit, but not by a lot, she still brightens his day with her wit and creativity. They’ve both matured physically, but not much has changed personality wise and they still acted like big children when they’re around each other. Stan loved them very much, and wished he could see them more often. He wondered what the future held for all of them. Would they still visit town after going to college? Would they move here? Or somewhere else?

He’s had several conversations with them to see how they’re managing the prospect of separating. They’re much better at communicating than he and Ford were and they seem actually excited to have some independence. It made Stan nervous, but he was sure their close relationship wouldn’t suffer.

Wendy chose to be elsewhere for the next few years. She and her friends booked a plane ticket and plan to backpack and hitchhike around Europe and the UK. Stan hopes they stay safe and watch out for each other. Lotta weirdos in Amsterdam. She was set to leave in the coming days, Wendy wanted to wait until today arrived so she could meet Soos and Melody’s kid before going away for who knows how long.

A tap on the shoulder woke Stan from his deep thoughts. His brother arrived with some warm sub sandwiches and coffee.

“Any word yet?, he asked Stan

“Nothin’ yet”, Stan felt helpless not having any clue how Soos and Melody were doing.

Stanford took his seat next to Stanley and they both silently enjoyed their late breakfast. Since arriving they’ve witnessed families reuniting and going past the door in the far corner to meet their children, grandchildren or siblings. Stan looked at the clock again. How has it only been another 5 minutes? He sighed, leaned back and finished the rest of his sub. One hand holding the sandwich, the other went back to gripping the arm rest, then a six fingered hand went down to rest on top of it. Stan let go of the armrest and tangled his fingers between Ford’s and held onto it with a, hopefully not too tight, grip. It was like an anchor to reality, much better at easing his anxieties than any words could. Over the past 4 years, Stan and Ford’s bond grew stronger. Stan still feared one day he would wake up and find himself still in that basement surrounded by broken machinery and languages he didn’t understand. He hasn’t yet, and was enjoying the time he had left with his twin. Stan took a moment to look at his brother again, Ford made eye contact and smiled then continued to read his book. Hands still intertwined

Stans thoughts went back to Soos…

It amazed Stan how much he had grown and it still baffled him that Soos idolized him as much as he does. Before Soos, Stan had no one. His brother was….gone, the rest of the family didn’t talk to him much outside of the holidays and special occasion. There hadn’t been any sense of consistency in Stan’s life for years, decades even, until he hired the chubby little kid he barely glanced at one random Saturday. Soos always arrived to work early, sometimes with breakfast for both of them. Stan didn’t know how much he needed a reliable companion until he had it and he enjoyed the 10 years he had with that kid… or man he should say. Here he was…a few rooms away, becoming a father.

Stan used to daydream a lot about the prospect of having kids when he was younger. He’s was always good with them when he had the chance to babysit his nephew, then later Dipper and Mabel when they were toddlers. He loved having kids in his house that first summer. He loved the energy and the sense of adventure the twins brought. They gave him a sense of purpose and belonging he hadn’t felt in years. He wished he was brave enough to have his own children. Not that he was ever with anyone long enough to want to have kids with him. He supposed it was for the best that he didn’t subject a child to homelessness or an unhappy marriage. He was also terrified at the idea. His dad used to say having kids ruined his life. He wondered who his father was before his older brother was born. Did they really ruin his life? Stan often wondered if he would be like his own dad if he has children of his own. Would he change and become that annoyed parent that resenting his children?

He thought about Soos again

That was probably the closest to parenthood he ever experienced. The first time he felt like one was when Soos asked him for homework help after closing. He initially told Soos no, he wasn’t exactly smart and didn’t think he would be any help. It apparently upset the kid, so Stan sighed and gave it a try. It was fairly simple middle school math, he didn’t remember everything, but helped Soos do more than half of it. Soos thanked him and went home happy. Stan felt weirdly proud, he was glad he made a small difference and managed to teach Soos something he didn’t even know he knew.

The second time was when Soos was a teenager. His grandmother wasn’t able to teach Soos to drive, since she had forgotten how and her late husband used to do the driving, she mostly walked everywhere. Soos offered to work for free so Stan could teach him. Stan loved driving and found teaching Soos cathartic. He was a fast and eager learner, he only bumped Stan’s car once while trying to figure out parallel parking. Little did Soos know that he was getting paid for his normal work hours. Stan just put it away long enough to help buy the kid some old used truck in the junkyard for getting his license. They fixed the truck up and in only a few weeks it was ready to be on the road. Soos has taken good care of it and it’s still his ride to this day

Stan was very proud of Soos. He taught the kid some basic self defense and managed to be a decent influence in his life. Soos at least has his priorities straight.

Stan was even glad to see that Soos was willing to question him. When the portal was reaching the final countdown, he didn’t hesitate to protect the kids from him when he thought Stan was dangerous. He didn’t know, none of them did, so he didn’t blame Soos for distrusting him. He hoped he never had to betray him again. They both had crappy dads, and Stan knew how Soos saw him. Stan was never really sure if he reciprocated those feelings. It felt natural to act the part, but to put a label as important as “dad” on Stan was daunting. Soos definitely deserves better than what he was given, Stan wasn’t sure if he was it.

Stan looked up at the familiar voices running towards him from the double doors.

“Grunkle Stan! Grunkle Ford!” Mabel waved to them

The two teenagers and Wendy walked in holding a balloon and various toys. They took some seats across from the Stans and asked how everyone was doing and if the baby arrived yet.

“Not yet, hopefully soon” Ford answered

Stan relaxed and silently enjoyed his family’s company. He laid his head back and leaned slightly on Ford to rest for a minute. His eyes shut as he listened to the kids joke around and talk amongst themselves. He squeezed Ford’s hand one more time before drifting off.

He knew he should’ve tried sleeping earlier, he wasn’t out for more than 15 minutes when Soos came into the waiting room. Stan’s eyes shot open and he was on his feet faster than he did when he was being chased by angry costumers as a door to door salesman. Soos’ red eyes sagged and he seemed exhausted, but carried a proud, wide smile across his face. He sniffed and wiped his eyes.

“It’s a boy”, he squeaked, “mom and baby are okay”

Dipper and Mabel were first to start the hugs, and the room filled with cheers of congratulations and love. Stan felt light as a feather giving Soos a hug and joking about child labor.

“Can we see him?”, Mabel bounced with anticipation

“Yeah, dudes!”, Soos gestured everyone past the corner door and into the suite. “But only for a little while, Melody has to sleep”

The room was small, dimly lit and warm. The Pines crew collectively lowered their voices as Melody came into view on the bedding holding a bundle of blankets decorated with small yellow ducklings. She was leaned back on a large pillow, covered in blankets and toted a soft smile on her face. Soos stroked her hair and picked up his little son to show to the Pines’. The younger twins got a look at him first,

Mabel squealed and cooed at the tiny infant. Then Wendy, who said hi to the baby and told Soos she’d make sure to send him gifts while she was away

“What’s his name?”, Mabel asked Melody

“I named him after my dad”, Melody replied, “Jacob”. She smiled sadly at the memory of the father she lost the year before.

Soos approached the Stans, Ford smiled and complimented the couple on a having such beautiful little boy, but shot Soos a look, who silently replied with another one. Something was up.

Finally Stan got a look at baby Jacob. “Wow” Stan smiled, patting Soos’ arm. “He looks exactly like you”

Soos laughed, “really? I think he looks like Melody”, there was a short silence before Soos spoke up again.

“Do you want to hold him, Mr Pines?”

Stan looked at Soos and smiled, “heh, sure”. He held his arms out. Soos lowered his arms to pass the baby to Stan, who scrunched his face up and started to fuss. Stan took the infant and managed to hold him with one arm. He bounced and shushed little Jacob until he calmed down. “Heya kid”, He’s held babies dozens of times, but something felt different about this one. He couldn’t put his finger on it, but Stan felt an almost magnetic pull towards him. Jacob settled comfortably against Stan and continued his rest. Stan softly beamed at the tiny person in his arms.

“Hey, Stan?”

Stan lifted an eyebrow and looked at Soos, who was fidgeting with his hands and nervously smiling.

“Uh..”, he paused, taking in the sight of Stan holding his child. “You know about my dad”, Soos looked at Ford again, who shrugged and nodded. Stan studied Ford’s face, who’s eyes strayed away as he hid a small smile. Soos got his attention again.

“You uh…he wasn’t…”, Soos choked up, his voice strained a bit, “I met you when I was probably the loneliest I ever was in my entire life”. Stan pictured the little boy he hired on the spot, he didn’t remember him until Soos showed up at his door step the next day ready to work. He didn’t know how much that quick, thoughtless decision would change his life.

Soos perked up and walked across the room to a table and picked up the piece of paper sitting on it. Soos glanced at it, then at Stan and smiled, gaining some emotional strength it seemed.

“You mean a lot me”, Soos, “you were there when I really needed it, you gave me a job, taught me just about everything I know. I don’t think I ever thanked you for that”

Stan got a bit nervous, Was this him asking to be the godfather?Everyone was silent and curiously watching. Soos held his hand out and handed the paper to Stan. He adjusted his arm to properly hold Jacob in his arm and took it. Stan flipped the page and noticed it was the baby’s birth certificate. Stan eyes bounced off the page and read the various information: birthdate, weight, parents, but he froze when he read the full name. Stan’s wide eyes questioningly studied Soos’ face.

“Are you…”, Stan felt his own throat tightening, crap. Come on, not in front of everyone “really?”, he asked. Soos gave a genuine nod and sniffed.

“I uh” Soos cleared his throat, “I was wondering, since Jacob doesn’t have one…if you wanted to be…. his grandpa?

There it was

Stan felt dizzy and took a small step back before remembering who was in his hands and regained his balance. Ford came to his side and wrapped an arm around his shoulder. Stan decide not to look at his brother and chose to stare forward, then his eyes went back to Soos, who look deflated. Oh man. Stan was terrified, he didn’t want to say no and hurt Soos, but if he said yes….he wasn’t sure what made him so nervous. The entire concept sounded so alien to him, like he didn’t deserve the title. He always considered Soos, Melody and their son a part of his family. But to bare a title like “grandpa”, had to mean he had children that that children. That he was already a parent without his knowledge. It all felt so natural to want to lean into this and become part of this family like Soos wanted.

He heard something make a noise from beneath himself. Stan looked down at little Jacob, who was mid yawn. The baby’s mouth grew wide opens and inhaled, scrunching up his face and suddenly shut. Suddenly two tiny eyes opened for just a few seconds, enough time for Stan to make eye contact before Jacob shut them and got comfortable again

Everything was different now.

Stan didn’t notice how quiet the room had gotten nor the tears forming in his eyes. Stunned by beauty and overcome with pride and a sense of purpose. The pride he felt teaching Soos math, how to drive and attending his graduation all combined just looking at the perfect being in his arms. If he said yes, he would want everything that came with it. Stan lifted the birth certificate up to read the name again.

Jacob Stanley Ramirez

“Y-Yes”, he heard a shaken voice say, almost not realizing it was his own “of course”. He looked at Soos, tears in his eyes and a bright smile on his face. He still wasn’t sure if he deserved this, but Stan wanted it. He wanted it all. Why not indulge just this once? He gave the certificate to Ford and used his now free hand to pull Soos into a hug. Gently sandwiching his…..grandson in between him……and his son.

[scribblersbook]

How To Help A Lonely Spirit

(Original Release: January 16, 2022) (Setting: Gravity Falls)

„This place is a dump. Is that spider web? Ew…”

Clouds of dust signaled their arrival as the two ghost hunters entered the mansion. The creaking of the floorboards served as accompaniment to each of their steps, the man and the woman walking to the middle of the entrance hall before they stopped to look around. The place truly was in a state of disrepair – the windows were all boarded up, the furniture was completely broken or missing, and there clearly wasn’t any electricity in the building anymore. Spider webs covered every corner and many of the doorways. The railings of the large staircase were like incomplete dentures, standing as a metaphor for the age of the mansion.

The man seemed confident as he glanced around the place. He had short, messy brown hair and was clean-shaven. Maybe even a bit too much so... He couldn’t help it – he was born with a babyface. His baggy, navy blue hoodie was hanging loosely on his thin body and arms, covering up a red shirt. He was carrying a brown shoulder bag flung around his neck, filled to the brim with books and papers.

The woman on the other hand seemed to be having second thoughts about coming here. She was eyeing the place with a repulsed grimace: this wasn’t what she signed up for. She was wearing a dark purple jacket covering up a pink top and trousers, separated by a stylish lavender belt. Her fuzzy, brown boots protected her from the ages of dust gathering on the floor, and her long blonde hair was being kept in check by a purple hairband. Her large, pink hoop earrings swayed gently as she turned her head, looking up at the rotting boards on the ceiling.

“Ugh… remind me why I’m here again, Dipper? Why did I agree to this?” the woman asked with a hint of disdain in her voice.

“Because Mabel is busy with her theater stuff, and you owe me one, that’s why. Mmh…” As she looked at the railing around the stairs, Dipper opened up his bag and pulled out a thick burgundy book. “Pacifica, did you remember to prepare like I asked?”

“Of course, I’m not about to half-ass this…” She rolled her eyes, then tried to recall the details. It was her job to ask around town about the happenings in the mansion, and she sure wasn’t about to shirk her responsibilities. She made a promise after all. “The neighbors down the hill said the place gets really loud every couple days around midnight. You know, stuff getting thrown around, scratching, all the clichés.” Pacifica followed his eyes and glanced at the stairs as she talked, pulling her nose up at the thick layer of filth gathering on the steps. “Doesn’t look like anyone’s been down here though. Way too dusty.”

Dipper nodded and flipped through the book. “Okay, so it’s either a really bored ghost, or a bunch of teenagers making a mess. Let’s see…” He settled on a page and started reading, mumbling to himself. “Not-so-deadly… fondest wish… making things float…” He nodded, seemingly having found what he was looking for. “Well, unless I’m missing something, this should be an easy Category 1 ghost.”

“Where have I heard that before?” Pacifica frowned. She gently tapped the lowest step of the stairs with her foot and watched the dust puff into the air around her legs.

“Har har, shut up. I had incomplete information. THIS should be simple.” He looked up the stairs towards the upper floor and closed the book. “How long have these happenings been occuring?”

“I don’t know, like a month? Something like that?”

“Curious…” It was Dipper’s turn to frown, rubbing his chin in thought. “Usually, this type of ghost goes away if you just ignore them, but this might be a subclass. Let’s go find a spacious room, then we can try to see what it wants.”

Without a second thought, he headed up the stairs in a hurry. Pacifica reluctantly followed, but lagged behind a bit – she was trying to keep her steps cautious so she wouldn’t disturb any more dust than necessary. They were expensive shoes, after all… Checking a few doors, Dipper soon settled on the master bedroom. It was spacious enough for his plans – the only thing left in there was a half-broken queen-sized bed that was filling the room with an odd smell. There was nothing else… looters probably took the rest of the furniture a long time ago. “Okay… This will do.”

“What is that smell?” Pacifica grimaced as she followed him inside.

“Do you really want to find out?”

“…You know what, no. So are we doing an exorcism or something?” she asked, frowning at the bed for a second before she turned back to Dipper.

“This ghost probably has an unfinished business of some sort. In order to make sure it passes on, we’ll do a quick séance and figure out what it wants.”

“Should be simple, huh?” Pacifica rolled her eyes. “Okay, how do we do that?”

“A Category 1 ghost would have shown itself to us by now if it could, so I’m going to assume that it can’t.” Dipper explained. “We have to give it a temporary body, and then we can just ask it ourselves.”

“Temporary… what?!” Pacifica raised her voice in protest. “I didn’t agree to that!”

“Don’t worry about it.” Dipper shook his head. “Besides, I’m the expert ghost hunter here, so of course the ghost will be drawn to me. Your job is to talk to it. Find out what it needs in order to pass on.”

Pacifica pouted and crossed her arms. “Ugh. Okay, fine, if you say so. Go on.”

“Right.” Dipper cleared his throat and spoke up tentatively. “So uh… hey? Ghost?”

“Is THIS your method?!” Pacifica couldn’t help letting out a chuckle.

“Ssh.” Dipper frowned at her before turning back towards the empty room. “Ghost? Are you there? We’re here to help. If you can hear me, please tell us by any means how we can help you.”

“Yeah, we’re both here to help.” Pacifica added. “Do make it quick though, I don’t want this to take all day…”

For a minute, nothing happened. The room remained as silent as they found it. After a while, the two looked at each other.

“Well.” Pacifica spoke. “Doesn’t seem like it wants us to he-AH!” Suddenly, her eyes darted wide open as she buckled over, falling onto her knees.

“Pacifica?!” Dipper took a step forward, looking startled at the girl. The next moment though, she stood up, spinning around briefly as if her legs refused to hold her up for a moment. “Pacifica, are you okay?”

Her legs wobbly and unsteady, the girl spent a few seconds trying to balance herself, as if she wasn’t used to it. She then glanced around the room, raising a hand to touch the side of her head next to her eyes before looking down again in confusion. “Oh, yeah…” She mumbled, and only then did she spot Dipper standing nearby. “Oh…!” She had a confused glee in her voice as she smiled, turning to face him. Her arms spread for a moment to help her balance before she put them behind her back and leaned in slightly. Was she… trying to look cute? “Hey there…” She spoke with a wide smile, panting the words slightly.

“Uhh…” Dipper quickly figured out what happened. “Are you… the ghost…?”

“Ehehe…” ‘Pacifica’ giggled as she looked him over, pausing on his bag, then on his face. “Why do you want to know… handsome…?”

“Subclass…” Dipper mumbled, making a mental note to add a footnote to the Category 1 page of the book. “Well, uhh… if you are, then we’re here to help.” He wasn’t used to Pacifica acting this… forward. She took a few steps, walking up to him while keeping eye contact and that smile the entire time.

“Oooh that.” she giggled again, putting a hand on her cheek. “Yeah, I uh…”

“I really thought you’d pick me, though…” Dipper added. He rubbed the back of his neck, embarrassed. “This is a bit awkward.”

“Well, if I picked you, I couldn’t be WITH you, right…?” It was like the girl couldn’t stop giggling. A nervous reaction, maybe?

“W-with me?” Dipper’s face turned a slight shade of red. “What do you mean?”

“Well…” She stepped even closer to him. Pacifica was slightly shorter than Dipper, so she had to tiptoe to face him evenly. “I was hoping someone like you would show up… You know… there was something I reeeeeeally wanted to do in life, and… well, things happened, and I could use your help with it…”

“A-ah?” Dipper did not like where this was going. “Uh, what’s that?”

“Well, you see…” Finally, the girl pulled back, now facing him from a normal distance. She looked away shyly as she blushed. “I died pretty young I guess, so I never had the chance… but I always wanted to… be with a boy…”

She said the last part rather silently, but Dipper still understood it. His eyes widened. “W-wait… what?”

 The bed didn’t seem to actually smell that bad up close. Or maybe he just got used to it by then. Dipper was laying on his back, with ‘Pacifica’ cuddling up to him, leaning her head on his shoulder. One of her hands was holding his, while the other was resting on his chest. She had a content smile on her face. They were just lying there silently, until a few minutes later she finally spoke.

“This is nice.”

After a moment of hesitation, Dipper replied. “So uh… when you said you wanted to be with a… uh, nevermind. Happy you’re enjoying this.”

“Your girlfriend is so lucky.” she giggled, scooting a bit closer, her cheek rubbing against his shirt.

“Thanks, but I don’t have a girlfriend…”

“Really?” She raised her head, looking at him. “Then who’s this girl?”

“She’s just… a friend, I guess?”

“Huh.” ‘Pacifica’ leaned her head back onto his shoulder. “She sounds dumb.”

Dipper considered arguing that, but he decided not to say anything. This is for the sake of the ghost… no point getting into semantics.

A few more minutes passed in silence. The ghost didn’t want this to end anytime soon, but then she sighed in satisfaction. “Thanks for this, by the way. I’ve wanted this for… well, a very long time, and I never thought it’d be this… enjoyable. I actually feel satisfied…”

“You’re welcome.” Dipper nodded slightly, before glancing down at her. “…Wait… satisfied? You mean…”

‘Pacifica’ let out another happy sigh, then in the next moment her eyes darted open, looking startled. “What the…”

Dipper was afraid this would happen. “Uhm, I can explain…”

He tried to get up, but the hand on his chest pushed him back down. He was met with a mean glare from Pacifica as she looked up at him. “If you tell this to anyone – ANYTHING that happened here today – I’ll gut you. Understood?”

“Uh, yeah, sure… wasn’t planning to.” Dipper shook his head.

“Good.” The girl frowned, her lips pressing together at the awkwardness of the situation as she laid her head back down onto his shoulder. “Now ssh…” She whispered, closing her eyes. “Let me just stay like this for one more minute…”

[feferipeixes]

Still Alive

After Dipper learns that this whole "being a demon" thing means he's going to live forever, he and Mabel talk about the future, and what he's going to do when everyone he knows dies. It's not until much later that he starts to realize that they'll never truly die -- just like he'll never truly get sick of ice cream.

Thanks to @toothpastecanyon for beta reading!

(See the most updated version on AO3!)

===

“If you could choose one project to do and be guaranteed that you’d finish it eventually, no matter how long it took, what would you do?”

“Hmm....” Mabel replied, itching her scalp with a plastic hand clapping toy. “Oh! I’d get my hands on the Ultimate Magical Shimmering Rainbow-splosion Fluffykins doll! There’s only five hundred in existence -- they’re super duper rare!”

“No no no,” Dipper countered. “That’s too easy, and too short. All you’d need to do is set up some eBay alerts, bribe a few people, maybe sneak into the FluffCorp factory building. Not even -- you could just snap your fingers -” (he snapped his fingers for effect, causing a puff of blue flame to momentarily appear) “and conjure it.”

“I can’t -” Mabel started, but Dipper kept talking over her.

“I’m talking about something really unprecedented. Something that would take a long time, something you wouldn’t ordinarily be able to do. Something that would change the world.”

“Oh, I get it now!” Mabel tossed the toy aside and flipped over, letting her head dangle off the end of her bed. “I’d call you a dork a million times.”

Her brother scowled at her and jumped out of his chair and into the air. “Hey!” he yelped over Mabel’s laughter. “I'̼͚̻͓͎̲m̡̖̰̘̣͎ ̖͇̕n̛̻ơ̰t̷̟͇̱ ̝̺̻a̳̦ ̪̟̮͖ḑor̞͓̭k̟̤̖!̛͍ And even if I was, that wouldn’t take you very long! At, uh, a rate of, let’s see, you could probably say ‘you’re a dork’ at least 30 times per minute, and if you didn’t ever sleep…”

Mabel watched the red tinge fade away from his features as he paced around in mid air, doing math in his head. “Yeah. You’re totally not a dork, Sir Maths-a-lot. You sure showed me.”

“- It wouldn’t even take you a month,” Dipper finished. “Besides, how would that change the world?”

“Hmm, well if I call you a dork enough times,” Mabel answered, “maybe my big scary demon brother would decide he doesn’t want to be a dork and instead he’d do something with his cool magic powers that ends up making the world a better place!”

“Mabel?”

“Yeah bro-bro?”

Dipper frowned at her. “Your face is turning purple.”

“Touche,” she replied, rubbing her chin very seriously. She slid the rest of the way off the bed and clutched her throbbing head. “Owww…”

“That's what you get for giving me dumb answers,” Dipper quipped, arms crossed.

“You mean for giving you fun answers,” Mabel corrected, and then winced at another sting of pain. “Why are you asking me these weird questions anyway?”

A panicked look flickered across Dipper's face, and his feet touched the ground. “I don't know what you're talking about.”

Mabel, still massaging her temples, pushed herself semi-upright to give her brother a look. “Come on. ‘What would you do if you had all the time in the world?’ ’What movie could you watch a million times and never get sick of it?’ ’Do you think Stancakes have a shelf life longer than 100 years?’ Something is clearly up.”

Dipper giggled awkwardly (was there any other way he could giggle?) and stared at the ceiling. “Nothing. It's nothing!”

“What, are you really not gonna tell me?” Mabel pushed. ”What if I tickle you?”

Her brother recoiled in horror. “You wouldn't.”

There was a tense silence as the two twins considered whose was the stronger will: the expert fighter with a plethora of torture tactics at hand, or the demon. Mabel narrowed her eyes. Dipper sharpened his claws. No words were exchanged. The room was perfectly still.

Mabel jolted forward half a foot and Dipper shrieked.

“Okay, you win, just don't tickle me!” he begged, throwing his hands up. “I'll tell you!”

“Good,” Mabel replied. “Things were about to get ugly. Spill it, bro-bro.”

Dipper sighed. He dusted himself off -- a habit he'd gotten into lately even though he was pretty sure nothing he could do would make his orange shirt and vest look any less weird with his new body.

“Remember… Remember the thing I told you the other day, when I had that infodump and learned more about my powers?”

“Oh yeah,” she said. “You found out that your omniscience tells you whenever anyone farts.”

“No!” he squeaked. “Although, you are right, it does do that and it's annoying, especially because now I can smell it from like a mile away.”

He wrinkled his nose, staring off into space for a minute before shaking his head. “But that's not what I mean. I'm talking about… how I'm never going to die.”

It had been about a week since Mabel had walked into the living room to find Dipper writhing and sobbing on the floor. She remembered the way he’d looked right through her, how he hadn’t seemed to even notice her presence when she sat him upright, how he kept muttering “still alive, still alive” over and over again, and it hadn’t made any sense to her then, but when he finally snapped out of it and was able to vocalize what he’d seen…

She shuddered at the memory of it.

“Since then,” Dipper continued, “I’ve been thinking about how I’m going to deal with it. And I had this idea that I could come up with things to do to fill the time.”

“What, so you’re going to plan out your whole life?” Mabel asked, incredulous. “Let me guess -- you’re making a checklist? Hah! Can you imagine?”

She giggled, and then he reached into his vest and pulled out oh sweet Moses.

“I’ve already got some good stuff on here,” Dipper said, ignoring or not noticing his sister’s flabbergasted expression. “I’m gonna learn how to make a sword by hand. I’m gonna watch all of Tiger Fist backwards to see if there are any hidden messages. And there’s this spa getaway weekend that the Multibear invited me on -- shoot, wait, he’s gonna be dead by then, umm…”

Mabel raised an eyebrow as her brother started scribbling on the checklist. “Dipper. This is obsessive even for you.”

“What would you know?” he shot back. “You’re not the one who’s immortal.”

“I know how to have this thing called ‘fun’,” she replied. “Maybe you’ve heard of it?”

He grumbled at her, eyes locked on his checklist. He couldn’t believe he forgot that the Multibear spa trip thing was a limited time offer. That kind of stuff was slipping his mind more and more these days, like the time Mabel asked him to play cards with her and he was so busy alphabetizing his Sibling Brothers books that he neglected to respond to her for three days.

Although, now that he thought about it, that might’ve been before he became a demon.

Something damp and cold hit Dipper in the face, and he spluttered in surprise. “What was that?” he shouted. One of his flailing hands happened to close on the object as it fell, and he held it up to the light.

“It’s a popsicle, doofus!” Mabel said. She’d fetched two from the minifridge in their room while he was distracted, and was busy licking away at her own, which was chocolate. “Remember those?”

He wrinkled his nose. “I don’t have ti-”

“I’ll throw another one at you,” Mabel interrupted.

“- I guess I could have some ice cream,” Dipper finished.

He floated over and sat on the floor next to his sister. He removed the paper from the popsicle and gave the object a sniff. The aroma of orange and vanilla caressed his sensitive nose, and he realized how long it’d been since he had any sugar. Without a second moment’s thought, he threw his head back, stretching both his neck and jaw further than they were supposed to go, and placed the entire popsicle -- stick and all -- into his gaping maw.

“See, what’d I tell you?” Mabel said, smirking at the satisfaction on her brother’s face. She reached up with her popsicle to scratch an itch on her nose, and then went right back to eating it. “I always know what to do with my time. I wonder what it’d be like if I lived forever…”

Dipper eyed the glob of chocolate ice cream on the bridge of her nose. “The world would probably be a much more chaotic place.”

“You mean a much BETTER place!” she declared. “Everyone would have fun and ice cream all the time!”

He grinned. “You’re right. It would be a much better place. Because my best friend would be there.” Mabel looked at him, a twinkle in her eye and ice cream all over her face, and his grin fell away. “I guess this is what you felt like when I said I was going to be Grunkle Ford’s apprentice, huh. I’m such a shitty bro-”

Mabel at once had her hands on his face, squishing his cheeks together so he’d stop talking. “Nuh-uh. Bro-bro you’re gonna stop hating on yourself Right. Now.” She was still smiling, but her tone had twisted into something harsh. “Okay, sure, I’m gonna die someday and then you’re gonna have to figure out what to do on your own. But I’m not ready to think about that and neither are you! We’re hecking 13 years old! We should act like it, while we’ve still got the chance. Please don’t make me think about dying yet.”

Dipper winced, and she let go of him. “I’m sorry,” he murmured.

“S’okay.” She patted him on the back, harder than he’d been expecting, and he was so surprised that he coughed up the popsicle stick he’d eaten earlier.

For a minute, neither of them said a word. Dipper lifted a hand to his face, where he felt something sticky.

“You got chocolate on my face.”

“Yeah. On your vest, too.” She stuck her tongue out at him. “What are you going to do about it?”

He looked at his hands, still small and smooth like a child. With a thought, he bathed both hands in a blue flame, searing away the chocolate and leaving them clean, just the way he liked them. Then he cleared his throat.

“I’m gonna chase you around the house,” he stated matter-of-factly.

Smiling ear-to-ear, Mabel jumped up and ran to the wall. “You’re nuts if you think you can catch me, even with demon powers!” Cackling, she threw the door open, which bathed her in a blinding white light.

Dipper thought about his infodump from the other day, thought about the part he hadn’t told Mabel, the tiny glimpse he’d gotten of his sister when she’d been old, pale, and still -- too horribly, horribly still. It was just a glimpse, but it haunted him -- the thought that one day there wouldn’t be a single trace left of Mabel Pines anywhere in the world. She was right -- as always -- that he was obsessing, that he was letting a thought hurt him when it didn’t have to.

He wasn’t ready to think about growing up yet, either. No matter how strong the pull to obsess was, he had to find a way to fight it.

“You can’t get away from me!” Dipper roared, and flew after his sister into the future.

---

"Wahoo! That was a great idea -- getting ice cream -- Dipper! I feel so much better! You always know how to cheer me up."

Dipper, clad in his usual human disguise, collapsed onto the bench with a grunt. "I dunno, this stuff tastes off. You’d think with all the technological advancements since the Transcendence that they’d have found a way to perfect ice cream."

His friend Arin, who was somehow managing to carry five popsicles in two hands, nodded with a serious look on her face. "Yeah. Oh sure a lot of old timey diseases were eradicated and we've got flying cars and stuff. But not one of these ice pops actually tastes like orange!"

She stared at him for a beat longer, then finally broke into snickers. One of the popsicles fell out of her hand, and a stubby arm immediately shot out from under the bench to catch it.

His face twisting in confusion, Dipper bent over to look under the bench. There were two gnomes right beneath him -- one of them hissed when they saw him, making him jump and making Arin laugh even harder.

"Ha-ha, okay," Dipper said, hand on his chest like his heart was racing. Despite this, he couldn't keep a small smile from creeping onto his face.

So much had changed in the last five hundred years, and yet so much else had stayed the same. Wars were fought, societies had formed and collapsed, but people were still people, and Dipper was still Dipper. Even though he’d had more than a few incidents where his demonic nature overcame his humanity, he always seemed to land back on his feet again eventually. Sometimes all it took was a friend.

Right now, his friend was a girl named Arin who he’d saved when someone else had tried to sacrifice her to him. He remembered how grateful she’d been, how she gave him a hug despite him being a void black monster splattered with blood, and how she then spent 20 minutes chatting with him about dragons even though she’d just had a very traumatic experience. She seemed, in other words, cool. So he later presented himself to her as fellow undergraduate student Dipper, without revealing that it was him who’d saved her that night, and they’d been good friends ever since.

Arin sat next to him and started taking bites out of her ice pops. "Yknow, the Transcendence-era wasn't that great," she said, although with her mouth busy it sounded like she was drowning.

Dipper's brow creased. "What do you mean?"

She gulped down the hunk of ice in her mouth. "No offense -- I know you're totally obsessed with Transcendence history stuff -- but that was soooo long ago. There's no one left who was alive back then, except like vampires I guess. But vampires don't eat ice cream so it doesn't matter."

Dipper bit back the urge to say "I know a vampire who loves ice cream as long as there's blood in it". What came out instead was "So?"

"So!" Arin shoved an entire popsicle into her mouth, and then had to take a minute to cough up the stick. "S-so," she continued amid gasps, "no one knows for sure what ice cream tasted like in the year 2012. And that includes you, Mr. Argues-With-The-Teacher! For all we know, old timey ice cream tasted like sawdust!"

Dipper considered his chocolate popsicle, which he's barely looked at since the first taste. "I guess you're right." He gave it another wary lick.

It didn't taste like chocolate the way he remembered it, but it was close enough.

"Do you ever think," he asked, unable to meet his friend's eyes, "about all the stuff that used to exist but doesn't anymore? All the ideas and food and... people?"

Arin groaned. "Is that what this is about? My best friend of the past 2 years -- secretly one of those 'I was born in the wrong century' people?"

"No!" he shot back, before taking another lick of the popsicle. "I just think it's sad that stuff goes away and no one's there to remember it."

"Well, maybe no one remembers that stuff, but that doesn't mean it's forgotten."

Dipper looked up. "Huh?"

Arin scarfed down her remaining two popsicles, which had begun melting onto her hand. "People die and ideas change and the world moves on. It happens constantly! But those people influenced their friends and their family and their coworkers. Who in turn influenced other people. Those people might be dead, but they live forever in the words and actions of everyone who came after."

Dipper just stared at her, jaw dropped. "Where did that come from?" he managed to get out. "Five seconds ago you were gagging on frozen sugar! You're not allowed to be this insightful!"

"Sugar rushes always make me super thoughtful," Arin said, patting him on the back. "It's 'cause I'm a genius. I'm probably gonna crash hard later though. Also by the way your ice cream is totally melting."

"Ah, shoot." Dipper hurriedly tried to catch the melting ice cream with his tongue, and Arin giggled again.

"The point is," she said, "if you've always got your head stuck in a history textbook, you're gonna miss out on the present. If you're always thinking about the dead guy who invented ice cream, you won't be around to eat any with me."

"Yeah, I guess you're right," he said. He felt an itch on his nose, so he wiggled it. "Thanks, Arin. I feel better- why are you looking at me like that?"

Arin was indeed staring at him with a perplexed look on her face as if she was not the one who'd just swallowed a metric ton of ice cream. "Why do you do that?"

Dipper frowned. "Do what? AGH-"

He yelped as Arin whipped out her phone and snapped a photo of him, blinding him with the flash even though it was a bright, sunny day out. "What was that for?"

She didn't say anything, simply handed him her phone. It certainly was not the best photo ever taken of him. It was blurry, his hair was a mess, and his mouth was contorted in shock.

On the bridge of his nose was a dollop of chocolate ice cream.

"You do it every time we get ice cream," Arin said, taking her phone back. "I mean, you call me weird, but I'm not the one always itching my nose with an ice pop."

"Oh," Dipper said. He paused and looked at his fingers, which were all chocolate-y too now. "I didn't even notice I was doing it."

"Suuure, weirdo," Arin chuckled. She stood up, wobbling a bit as she did so, and steadied herself on the back of the bench. "Listen dude, this was fun but I think the sugar's starting to hit me. I'm gonna head back to the dorm before I collapse. Wanna hang out later?"

"Definitely!" Dipper replied. "You should get some rest! Try not to give psychological counseling to anyone on the way -- you're gonna burn out your brain!"

He waved at his friend as she staggered away, and watched her until she turned a corner around a building. Then he sighed, and wiped his nose with his finger.

"Hey Mabel," he whispered, looking at the chocolate he'd collected. "It’s me, Dipper.”

A passing jogger sent a pointed look at the young man who was talking to his finger, but Dipper ignored them.

“I seem to remember you saying something to me about living forever. You said that one day you’d be gone, and I’d have to find a way to carry on alone.” He thought about Arin’s words, and felt something swell in his chest. “But I guess you’re still alive after all.”

He sniffed, and looked up at the sun as it started to bathe the sky in the pinks and purples of evening. He saw people in flying cars, people rushing through pneumatic tubes, people high fiving on jetpack because it was a wonderful day to be out. And he thought about what Arin said; thought about all of the sicknesses he'd seen friends and family afflicted by that no one ever had to suffer from again. He thought about all the preters he saw walking freely and happily on the campus, without worrying that they'd be attacked.

"And you were right," he said. "The world is a better place."

Dipper licked the remaining chocolate off his fingers, and got up. As he headed back toward his dorm room, he wondered what other legacies his loved ones had left in him.

(AO3 link)

[weaver-z]

Birthmark

A short horror story by B.E.

The women in my family have port-wine birthmarks, but none ever had any as strange as mine. 

Not even my mother, who had one that stretched across her forehead like a bloodshot eye, the pale sclera-white of her skin visible under the glaze of reddish violet. She told me, when I was very young, that my grandmother had one, too, along the back of her head--she, unlike us, had been lucky enough to have one that could be hidden under a bonnet, though her blonde hair still revealed it in the summertime.

“Can I see the ones on the legs?” Thomas asks, chewing the inside of his cheek like a cow chewing its cud. I allow it, even though I am a girl, because Thomas and I are friends, alone in the center of a field of tall summer alfalfa. I can feel his eyes boring into the marks on me in fascination, as he moves around me to see my arms, at the marks on those.

“I like the winter best,” I say, pulling my skirt up. “Pa hates it. But I like it, because I can cover all of ‘em up with my clothes, even the ones on my arms.”

“They’re not so bad,” he says. “They’re not on your face, at least.

“Guess so.”

He sits in front of me in the clear space between the eden-green strands of the grass, looking down at the marks on my legs. They are strange, wobbling lines, not blotches or patches--the lowest two are at my knees, lines that wrap around the joint like the borders of a county. 

There are two more on my upper thighs, though I don’t show Thomas those--he’s still a boy, and even though he looks at my markings with nothing but fascination, I still feel a little kernel of shame rubbing at the walls of my chest. The arms are easier to show to him--there are only two marks, just too low to be covered by my short sleeves, broad and awkward unevenly-stamped lines.

“So you’ve got more? On your back?” Thomas asks, sitting on his haunches, looking at me with intent, dust-brown eyes too large for his face.

“Yes. Almost like a corset,” I say, “like a nice corset, the kind rich ladies wear with their jewels. One on my waist, like a belt. One below my shoulders. Oh, and a line down my back, a kinda wobbly one.”

“Like the laced-up part of the corset,” he says, and I nod, happy that he understands. Most boys who live in these parts wouldn’t. He moves around me, and I sit straight, lifting my long frigid-blonde braid so that he can see the very top of the line that travels down my spine, the source of the splotchy red-and-purple river. 

“You ever wish that you could have them wiped off?” He asks. “I heard that God sometimes grants big miracles if you pray for ‘em enough.”

“Maybe,” I say, doubtful. “I’ve tried it. Pa makes me pray each night, but nothing seems to work.”

“Shame about that. Real shame. Maybe God’s busy with somethin’ else--” he says, and suddenly a gunshot rings out in the distance.

He freezes, pupils dilating like a rabbit that hears a hawk, and I scramble for my boots, forcing them on over the crumbles of mud on my feet. We can both hear Pa, coming through the brush, forcing his way through it with snaps and tears and nearly inarticulate grumbling. Thomas is off like a shot, running almost on all fours as he crouches, and by the time my father reaches me, panting and huddled in the grass, my friend is nothing but a mole-trail disturbing distant strands.

Pa is a tall man--though I inherited his height, I’m only 13, and he towers over me, so broad and heavy that I am thin as grass and summer wind below him. I stand, looking up at him with a look that must look shameful, and he lowers the rifle to point at the earth, face still and steely with malice.

“I told you I didn’t want no boys ‘round,” he says, voice thick, like smoke from a bonfire. “Told you I didn’t want you foolin’ round like a little whore.”

“He didn’t do nothin’,” I say, arms wrapped around my chest. “Honest.”

“Who was it, then? And why didn’t he come see me, an’ ask if he could talk to you?” He takes my arm--not tightly, but with such strength that I couldn’t run if I tried. 

“He and I met while I was out with the chickens. He was on the road going up to town.”

“Sure he was.” Pa shoves my arm away and laughs, the sound like metal clattering to a dirt floor. “Sure, the devil ‘e was. I heard him talkin’ bout your legs, girl. Didn’t hear much, but I heard that. You think you’re the pick of the meat at the market, don’t you?”

“Pa--”

“Don’t talk, pretty girl. Don’t talk, and don’t you ever try and do this again. You’re gonna pray as long as you can tonight. I want your damn tongue to fall out before you stop praying,” and he begins to move, and now the pain comes as I stumble half-backward with him, held in a vise by my arm. 

“Pa, I’m sorry--”

“You ain’t sorry yet, Lu,” he says. He looks back at me, from under the shadow cast beneath his brows by the white sun overhead. “You ain’t sorry, yet.”

---

He makes me pray, that night, for hours and hours, for forgiveness, for something I never did. But the praying he makes me do that night is only meager practice for the praying I do during the winter.

Our chickens die when a coyote pack rolls through in the late days of fall, snarling and barking with a sound like mocking laughter. We salvage what corpses we can, and for a while, we eat well, but not well, because while we dine on fresh meat, the knowledge that something terrible to come hangs over us like the fog of their blood. The cattle start to go soon after, the first to a weak cover over a well (it falls in, it screams for hours), the second to a river, the third to disease, the rest tumbling like the articles like a rotting shelf soon after them. 

When winter comes, we have little, so little, and my father tears into his meager dollars to buy us what we can. I am grateful to him, even as the food dries up, even as he becomes silent, frighteningly silent, staring at me above the candle that lights our dinner-table with a face like a haunting.

I am not allowed to leave the house anymore.

I only cook--clean--mend--read the scraps of old newspaper used to patch the walls of the house as best I can. I make what food he finds for dinner, if he finds any, and I give more to his portion, and he says almost nothing to me except to remind me to stay in the home, to keep house and to keep out of the snowstorms and the paths of wild things. He fixes the roof and sharpens the knives--those are the only tasks he does around the house, besides force me onto my knees beside him to beg God for something for our stomachs.

And it is in cleaning that I find the box.

It is a small box, barely as long as my forearm and as shallow as the length of my hand, and it is under his bed, dislodged from a long stay deep in the shadows beneath his cot by a storm that shook the house.

I pull it slowly from beneath--it is unpainted, made of thin wood that leaves little splinters in the flesh of my thumb-joint. I remove its lid and look inside.

My mother is there, first, as I remember her--thin, short, with a look in her eyes like the hollow of a tree, unexplainably empty. The mark is clearly visible in the photograph, as she stands next to my father, mottled and dim. Neither of them are smiling. They are younger in this photograph--it is blurry, hard to make out.

Beneath that is a scrap of newspaper that I have a hard time understanding for a moment. 

Mrs. Mary J. Letts, 68; Wife and Mother

We regret to announce the death of Mrs. Letts, wife of Mr. Roger Letts and mother to Mabelle Letts, which took place last Thursday due to a tragic accident involving an injury sustained to her head while riding. She is survived by her husband and daughter. 

The paper cuts off there. I don’t recognize the name of Letts, and the paper is old; I continue reading as I find another scrap.

Mrs. Mabelle Dawson, 36; Wife and Mother

We regret to announce the death of Mrs. Dawson, who is survived by her husband, Mr. Arnold Dawson, and her young daughter, Lucy Dawson. Their family has our greatest sympathies. She was killed accidentally as she was cleaning a weapon owned by Mr. Arnold Dawson, who claims deepest regret that

I feel my mouth run dry and my pulse hammer against my skin like stone against a drum. That is my mother’s name--that is my name, too, faint against the paper. I don’t understand why these things are in the box, among other pictures and portraits of my mother, and, unmistakably, my mother’s mother, whose mark is just visible in one small portrait of her, clearly done by an amateur hand. I can imagine how it stretched across the back of her head, branching along her skull--I can see my own mother’s mark, clearly, in the center of her forehead.

I feel cold as the wooden floor under my feet as my eyes trace the border of the mark on her forehead for the first time. 

“Lu?” my father calls, from downstairs. “Lucy? Lu-cy?”

The starburst on her forehead is strangely jagged. Unsteady. The shape that a bullet hole would make, if someone were shot close in the head. An accident while cleaning a gun. A trauma to the back of the skull. I hear a footstep on the stairs, almost hesitant, its weight barely masked by the slowness with which my father places it down.

“Lucy?” he says. “I prayed to God for a miracle, and he told me what we ought to do. I need to see you, now.”

I can’t breathe. My throat is choked by a snare as I throw myself back, scrambling across the floor and away from the box. My skirt flies up--my legs are exposed, the lines on them obvious in their purpose.

Summers ago, I went to the village with Pa, and we went to a stall hung with pig carcasses. There, there was a picture of a sow, her legs and sides and ribs marked with uneven lines where the different cuts of meat came from. Here was the thigh--here was the shank--here was the cut you made along the spine and the stomach.

I hear a slow, low rumble of creaking wood as he stops outside the door.

“Lucy?” he says, his voice more paternal than I have ever heard it, and I begin to cry--begin to pray to anything, anyone that will listen, pray that something else kills me before he enters, and nothing does.

And the door opens--slowly, too slowly, as though I’ve had a nightmare and he’s coming to check on me like a good father should--and he sees me with the box, with the tears flowing down my face, with my chest heaving in great stops and starts.

He takes a step forward. In his hands, he holds a sharpened butcher’s knife.

[ladylynse]

Chapter 6 [FFN | AO3] of Forewarning

All Dipper knew was that there was something buried in some special thermos behind the shack; all Danny knew was that he had no idea how he'd gotten here.

Based off this artwork by @hashtag-art. Happy birthday, @bibliophilea!

(beginning | previous)

-|-

Once safely back at the Mystery Shack, Wendy turned off the golf cart and grabbed her supplies from the rack in the back. It had been a bumpy ride, but she’d only needed to sacrifice one bag of marshmallows to the forest. That wasn’t bad, considering how many creatures she was fairly sure lived there.

And, fine, maybe it made her a little paranoid to think that some of the bumps she’d hit had been deliberate, a growth of tree roots just so or deep holes suspiciously covered with leaf litter, but it wasn’t like she voiced her thoughts to anyone else.

Besides, whatever lived in the forest seemed happy with the occasional sacrifice of candy. At the very least, she’d never been stopped by something yet, and she took a lot of shortcuts through here by herself. That wasn’t exactly recommended, even for those who knew the territory well. When her family went out for apocalypse training, they were supposed to pair off. They didn’t always, but they did more often than not.

It’s easier to survive if there’s someone you trust around to watch your back, but you have to know how to fight if there isn’t.

Whatever had stopped by the Mystery Shack wasn’t bringing the apocalypse with it—she was pretty sure about that—but she didn’t want this to turn into that. Taking the twins to see the haunted grocery store? Sure. She still hadn’t been sure they’d actually see ghosts despite the stories—no one had been until it had happened—but that was different. That was contained. That was very much not in the Mystery Shack. Where the kids slept. With only the oblivious skeptic Stan around to fight the things that went bump in the night.

Now, if those things were corporeal, she wouldn’t be concerned. The man knew how to punch, and he’d punch before asking questions. But whatever had turned up this time clearly had the option to not be corporeal. Like a ghost.

She remembered the footprints appearing in the scattered baking soda a split second before the boy who’d visited earlier appeared. The same boy who had flashed a careless grin and flipped through postcards and keychains and magnets in the gift shop before taking a tour with Mabel.

Whatever he was, he wasn’t a ghost, but he was entirely too much like a ghost for comfort.

There was no sign of Stan yet—not a surprise; she hadn’t heard his car—but chances were good he wasn’t far behind her.

She saw Soos walking in from the lane and raised her hand in a wave. He spotted her and held a finger to his lips before pointing, and something cold and heavy settled in her gut as she spotted three figures by the woodshed: Mabel, Dipper, and the not-a-ghost boy who’d called himself Danny.

She cursed under her breath as she hurried to meet Soos. “That’s him,” she hissed. “We need to get him away from the twins.”

“Did you find anything in town that we can use?”

“I bought a couple more boxes of salt.” Silver was expensive—too expensive for her, anyway—and she wasn’t exactly guaranteed to find holy water even if she tried breaking into a church, mostly because she didn’t know where she’d look for it. She could’ve bought a cast iron frying pan, but she might as well grab one from the kitchen. The ideas of what they might be able to do had quickly fallen apart when she’d realized what was actually feasible. “It’s better than nothing.”

“What about garlic?”

“For a ghost?”

“You said he wasn’t a ghost.”

“Close enough to a ghost. And, anyway, there should be some in the kitchen. We can always chop up a couple of cloves and see if it does anything.” If it didn’t, and they didn’t waste it, they could always throw it into hamburger meat or make garlic bread. “How long has he been here? The kid?”

“Just a couple of minutes,” Soos allowed, “but this isn’t the first time the kids have met him.”

Wendy closed her eyes. “I know, I just…. I’d hoped they wouldn’t realize he wasn’t normal.” More to the point, she’d hoped that he wouldn’t come back. What the hell did he want, anyway? Sure, he’d said something about fixing whatever was wrong, but their ideas about what needed fixing weren’t likely the same.

“They might not. He was pretending to be normal when he talked to me.”

“He talked to you?”

“Just to ask after Dipper and Mabel.”

Wendy frowned. Soos didn’t sound too optimistic that Mabel and Dipper wouldn’t realize there was something weird about the kid, and frankly, she thought he was right. Mabel might be more forgiving, but Dipper…. “We’ll play it cool. Keep doing whatever you were doing. Try to keep an eye on them without being too obvious about it. I’ll prepare the fire pit.”

“The wood, campfire forks, hot dogs, marshmallows—?”

His gaze had wandered pointedly down to the box of salt pressing against the white plastic bag she carried, its blue label clearly visible. “Yeah. I won’t ring it thickly enough that it’s noticeable, especially since it’ll have to be in the gravel where nothing’s growing anyway, but if he’s going to pretend to be normal, then we’ll see how long he can keep that up.”

“And if he’s not affected by the salt?”

“We cross that bridge when we come to it.”

“And if we’re wrong and he is normal after all?”

Wendy snorted. “If he’s normal, he’s only normal for here.” She saw Soos shift uncomfortably and added, “If Stan comes back before I’m finished, give him the pitch about taking measures to ghost-proof the Mystery Shack and advertising doing that because it’s haunted. He’ll know how to get more of what we need, even if he doesn’t think it’ll do anything.”

“What if he’s not bad? The kid, I mean. Not everything is bad. Not everyone is bad.”

The kid had claimed he wasn’t a threat. He’d said he was stuck, that he just wanted to go home, that he had to fix something, not break it. What if it hadn’t been a lie? She didn’t see how his sneaking around could mean his intentions were honourable, but that didn’t mean she wasn’t missing something.

On the other hand, if he were simply determined to show a friendly face to the twins to get them to lower their guard, only to strike once he’d fooled them—

Wendy wasn’t sure if she wanted to take that risk. Having a healthy amount of suspicion now and apologizing later sounded much better to her than being overly trusting and being burned—especially if she wouldn’t be the only one caught in that fire. She and Soos had lived their entire lives here. Mabel and Dipper had not. They might not yet appreciate the degree to which not everything was as it appeared.

“You don’t need to be ready to attack,” Wendy finally said. “You just need to be ready to defend.” Soos nodded, maybe thinking her words were for both of them, but they weren’t. She had no intentions of simply being ready to defend. She wasn’t about to attack unprovoked, but if this kid did anything that set off alarm bells for her, she’d act on her gut. She trusted her gut more than her head. It was reliable in these sorts of situations.

The trouble was, her gut should have made a call on this already. Instead, she was still conflicted, and more time to mull it over on her trip into town hadn’t helped. Part of her still wanted to take the kid’s words at face value, but the little she’d seen of what he could do backed up the part of her that insisted he was far too dangerous to blindly trust. Soos wanted to give him the benefit of the doubt, but there was so much that could seem innocuous at first….

The knowledge that Soos was right and they had no idea if salt would actually help defend them didn’t make this any easier—especially when Danny was clearly interested in Mabel and Dipper. Soos had mentioned Dipper having a book, and she remembered seeing glimpses of it before. If that’s what the kid was interested in, how was she supposed to help Dipper and Mabel protect it while still protecting them?

Salt first. Purifying fire and questions later, if the kid decided to stick around for it. As long as he wasn’t hurting her friends, she was willing to give him a shovel and see how deep he dug.

XXXXXXX

Danny didn’t see the journal around, but Dipper apparently didn’t need it to draw his magic circle thing in the dirt. To be fair, Danny didn’t know if it was the same one as before, but he also didn’t want to find out. Which meant taking the initiative and trying to explain before they decided to pull more magic stuff on him.

“Please don’t do whatever you’re planning on doing,” he said, keeping his voice low in the hope that the guy he’d been talking to earlier wouldn’t hear it. “I just want to talk, I swear.”

“Are you ready to explain now?”

That was Dipper, with a bite in his voice that reminded Danny a bit of Valerie. Dipper might not sound even half as malicious as Valerie could when she was spitting curses at Phantom, but he was appropriately wary. “Yeah. But you have to promise you won’t try any magic stuff.”

“No. You’re not defenseless, and I’m not swearing away my ability to protect anyone.”

Oh. Right. He might think that particular promise carried more weight than a regular promise. He seemed to think giving his word would make it impossible to break. Danny didn’t know of any ghosts with that power, and frankly he didn’t want to meet one who had it. “You don’t have to. I just…. I promise I’m not here to hurt you or anyone else. I only want to talk. And not, y’know, risk being exorcised if you don’t believe me.”

Mabel looked from Danny to her brother and raised an eyebrow. He scowled at her but said, “Fine. If you don’t do anything except tell us the truth right now, I won’t try to exorcise you.”

Not ideal, but it wasn’t like Danny was planning on lying through his teeth to them, anyway—or that he couldn’t still attempt a lie if he felt he needed to. He had a feeling it wouldn’t work, though. He hadn’t had a whole lot of luck earlier. Maybe seeing through that thing was a kind of survival instinct around here, just like Secret Lab Guy had said.

Come to that, though— How had he had an entire conversation with someone, spilled half his life story to that someone, and not actually gotten their name?

Whatever. He’d ask later if he didn’t figure it out before then. It just proved the point, though. These people were good. Sharper than he was used to, unless almost everyone in Amity Park had already figured out his secret and was just being nice and waiting for him to make some kind of grand announcement.

Yeah, right. If Amity Park’s continued obliviousness wasn’t natural, then Vlad had done something. Not something Danny would thank him for, exactly, but something he wouldn’t fault him for, either.

“Thanks. Can I sit?” There weren’t chairs. There weren’t even logs. Dipper would be able to tell that he was staring at the circle drawn in the dirt, though, and know the question for what it was.

Mabel reached out one foot and drew a line through it with the toe of her shoe. “Yup!” she said, dropping down in place. “Pull up some grass.”

Dipper glared at her as Danny sat down on a patch that was more gravel than grass, but the other boy didn’t say anything; he just settled down and looked like he’d be ready to grab the axe beside him at a moment’s notice. Danny didn’t really want to find out if he knew how to use it. Then again, going by the assorted sizes of split logs nearby, he wasn’t overly skilled; even if it wasn’t a normal axe that Danny could avoid with intangibility, there was a good chance that Dipper was clumsy enough with it that he’d be easy enough to avoid.

“I’m sorry about not being entirely straight with you earlier when I said I would be.” Danny didn’t know where to begin, but an apology seemed smart when he still wanted their help.

“Which time, Phantom?”

Well, at least there wasn’t any lingering doubt. Danny sucked in a breath and let it out slowly to give himself a bit of time to think. Mabel looked ready to listen, but Dipper…. He still wasn’t sure about Dipper. “This isn’t exactly something I tend to tell strangers,” Danny said slowly, “but you’re right. I’m Phantom. I’m the one you let out of the thermos.”

Dipper was still practicing his glare, but Mabel asked, “So what are you? You’re not a ghost. We’ve seen ghosts.”

“I’m still a ghost,” Danny said, since as far as he knew, that was true. “Just…part ghost. Part human.” He rubbed the back of his neck and offered them a smile. “Remember when I joked about being the poster boy for interdimensional safety?”

“You expect us to believe you were in some sort of accident,” Dipper said flatly.

They didn’t need to know all the details, but— “Yeah. Lab accident. It didn’t kill me, or at least I don’t think it did, but I did get ghost powers, so that’s cool. Not something I’d recommend to anyone, but cool.”

Okay, Dipper definitely didn’t believe that, but Mabel nodded as if Danny had said something normal and not what probably sounded insane. “Why were you in the thermos?”

“Clockwork, I think. He’s the one who gave me the message to warn you in the first place, remember? Also the one who likes to pretend he doesn’t interfere but interferes like this. I thought it was Vlad, until I…until I realized how long it had been. And, no, before you ask, I don’t know who wrote that journal. I wasn’t lying about that. The only important bit I lied about was ‘Danny Fenton’ being a friend.”

“Why fess up now?” Dipper’s question was a challenge, sure, but Danny could hear the genuine curiosity behind it. Chance were, he wasn’t a great liar, either.

“Because I might need your help to get home. Especially if that help involves you trusting me enough to let me help you and you not trying to kill me first.”

“What were you looking for earlier?” Danny blinked, trying to figure out what that meant, and Dipper must have read that confusion on his face because he elaborated, “Mabel heard you. We know you were back before you showed yourself now.”

Right. She had been in the gift shop area, hadn’t she? “I was trying to find some clue about what else I’m supposed to do here.”

“And?”

That meant did you find it? Danny might’ve promised them the truth, but he’d also promised the other guy that he wouldn’t blow that secret, either. More or less. Hopefully that wasn’t what he was supposed to do here? “There’s something weird about this place,” he said instead. “It’s got this…feeling. I don’t know how to describe it.” It was something unnerving, like the feeling the Fright Knight could give you, but with more…. More I’m-watching-you vibes. Vlad times a hundred. If he didn’t need to stick around to get home, he’d be gone by now. Whatever Clockwork was trying to warn these guys away from, it felt like a danger on par with Pariah Dark.

Not that he’d be able to explain that to them.

Mabel reached over to poke Dipper in the arm. “Show him the journal.”

That would make things a lot easier for him. “I could tell you what it has wrong about ghosts. Or at least about me,” he offered. He wanted to do that regardless, but if he could give them more reason to show him, well….

“It seems to be right about you,” Dipper said, “unless you want to pretend that you’ve never been affected by anything we’ve done.”

Danny blew out a breath. “Look. Being part ghost doesn’t mean I’m exempt from everything that works on ghosts. It also means that I need to be careful around hunters, including you guys. But I’m not here to fight you or steal something or whatever your book says about me. I’m the good guy, I swear.”

“The good guy. Who needs his own little dedicated section in the journal.”

“Dedicated section?” That sounded worrisome. How much info did these guys have on him? Some of it had to be accurate, but if it was just full of things he’d done as a ghost with no context, like the stealing—

“More like a paragraph,” Mabel interrupted, “and it’s not even in the same language as the rest of it.”

Wait.

“Not the same language? What language is it?”

“See for yourself,” Mabel said. She elbowed Dipper when he didn’t immediately produce the journal and offer it up and then hissed a few things in his ear for good measure, which finally seemed to convince him. He pulled the journal out from beneath the vest he’d been wearing earlier, flipped through to the right page, and turned it around to show Danny.

Danny leaned closer, but he didn’t recognize the language, either. If it was something ghosts spoke, he’d never seen it written down, but aside from Wulf, most of the ghosts he’d met spoke English. He didn’t know how many other languages they spoke, though. He’d never asked. If this was some common language he had yet to learn….

“It might be the way it’s coded,” Dipper admitted, “instead of actually being in a different language. Some passages in the journal are coded, but they’re all the same code, except for this. I haven’t had any luck cracking it.”

Danny frowned, reading the page over before Dipper could take it away. He couldn’t see anything about a thermos or anything else that would have led them to him in the first place, but there was a bit of gibberish above that section written in green ink that might be the first code—

Wait. Green ink? Everything else in here was black or blue or some kind of brown that Danny really hoped wasn’t blood. “What else is written in this colour?” he asked, pointing to the passage.

“That’s it.”

“In the entire book?” That didn’t make sense. “But…why?”

“When I find the author of the journals,” Dipper said bluntly, “that won’t be one of the first questions I ask.”

“It won’t even be one of the first hundred,” Mabel added. “Dipper’s never understood the importance of colour.”

To be fair, it wasn’t typically high on Danny’s list of priorities, either, but this colour thing was definitely strange. How many other weird things were in that book if this didn’t make the list?

“Does it mean something to you?” Mabel asked.

Danny hesitated. The fact that it happened to be the same colour as his eyes—or his ectoplasm—in ghost mode could be a coincidence, but things tended to be a lot less coincidental when Clockwork was involved. Danny wasn’t really ready to bet that whoever had written this journal had simply run out of every other colour of pen that day. “Maybe,” he admitted, “but only in that it might point toward me.” Or another ghost like him. Hopefully not Danielle.

“So do you know who wrote it?” she prompted.

He shook his head. “I don’t know the handwriting. That’s not saying much, though. There are a lot of people—and ghosts—I know whose handwriting I’d never recognize.” He wasn’t even sure he’d recognize the Ghost Writer’s handwriting. “What does the other part say about me?”

“That something was stuck in a thermos behind the shack,” Mabel answered immediately, ignoring her brother’s glare. “Which it was.”

“It’s a Fenton Thermos, something specifically designed to contain ghosts. My parents build them.” If he wasn’t trying to keep his secret anymore, there was no harm in admitting that. “They’re paranormal scientists and inventors.”

“Like the author of the journal is,” Mabel said, shooting Dipper a pointed look. “That must be why the bit about the thermos is in there.”

“Not— I mean, I’m not thirty years old. Seriously. Do I look that old to you? I just turned fifteen last week.” Well. Last week for him. Not for whenever this was, five years in his future. “Me being in the thermos is Clockwork’s fault.” Probably. Except Clockwork wouldn’t have needed to catch him in a thermos to force him back here; he could’ve simply asked and called in a favour if Danny had complained, which he would’ve. More likely, Clockwork had merely taken advantage of someone else capturing him in a thermos, and that list of possibilities was long—and included more than one ally, even when the capturing was intentional.

“I don’t know all the details, okay? I just…. I haven’t met a ghost besides Clockwork that messes with time.” His evil future self didn’t count, not when Clockwork’s power had still been the vehicle for everything he’d done.

…Danny really hoped this had nothing to do with him. Now that he thought about it, he didn’t appreciate the thermos parallels.

Of course, now that he thought about it, the fact that he’d been stuck in a thermos had to be deliberate. Sure, it was a way to skirt the notice of the Observants, but Clockwork had messed with the timeline before without doing anything sneaky like that. If the thermos was important…. Coupled with the fact that there was a portal being built beneath a place called the Mystery Shack….

“That’s why I’m here.”

“You care to share with the class?” Dipper asked.

“The thermos, the portal—”

“What portal?”

Oops. “The, y’know, whatever, it doesn’t matter, the point is, you said the author of the journals was a paranormal scientist? Maybe an inventor, too?”

“No, no, don’t change the subject. What portal?”

“Like a portal to another dimension?” Mabel queried. “Is that why you talked about interdimensional safety earlier?”

Oh, crud. They weren’t going to let his slip about the portal go. So much for that secret. “Just…never mind that right now. Paranormal scientist. Inventor. Like my parents. He probably didn’t know them, it would’ve been too early on for them to have made a name for themselves, they might not even have been together yet, but…. Okay. This is gonna sound crazy—”

“Crazier than everything else you’ve said?” Dipper asked dryly.

“—but just go with me on this. Please. I know what happened when my parents messed stuff up, and—”

“And you’re warning us so we’re prepared and more careful,” Mabel finished. “So I don’t get impatient and Dipper doesn’t get complacent.”

Danny frowned. “What?”

“Your warning,” she repeated. “You’re not trying to get us to stop what we’re doing. It’s a terrible warning for that. That kind of thing just makes you wanna do it more, whatever it is. So you’re actually warning us to be more careful than you think we would be otherwise.”

Danny opened his mouth to tell her that warning someone not to do something obviously meant they shouldn’t do it, and then he remembered all the times his parents had warned him not to touch stuff in the lab.

Right.

Maybe she wasn’t wrong.

Just because that was what a warning meant, didn’t mean it would always have the desired effect.

Moreover, Clockwork would know exactly what to have Danny say to get the desired effect.

He’d thought he’d come to help with the portal, but he still didn’t know the blueprints of his parents’ portal as well as Tucker did. If this were just about helping them build or fix the portal in the basement without bad consequences, Tucker was a better choice than he was, and Clockwork could most definitely have arranged that.

But Danny had joked about being the poster boy for interdimensional safety, and he could still disassemble and reassemble most of his parents’ weapons in order to tweak them, even if he wasn’t as good at it as Tucker, and he’d be an idiot to keep ignoring the fact that Clockwork had made sure he had a thermos here.

The thermos wasn’t for him. It had never been for him. It had contained him, sure, but Clockwork must’ve made sure he was stuck in one so that he’d think of this. So that he’d think of what they’d done with his evil future self. And so he’d have it when he needed it.

There was a portal in a secret lab in the basement of the Mystery Shack, and the thermos written about in Dipper’s journal was for whatever was coming out of it.

(see more fics | next)

[scenesandscraps]

Boundaries

“Steven, I was reviewing some of my old notes and I found something I think you might be able to help me with,” Ford said one day, once the Shack was closed.

“What’s up, Dr. Pines?”

“I don’t suppose you know what this is?” Ford handed Steven his journal.

Steven’s face went pale. “Where’d you see that?”

“In the mountains near here, years ago. I never was able to determine what it was for.”

“It’s a warp pad. Gems use them to teleport around. They don’t usually have that big chunk taken out of the middle though.”

“Fascinating,” Ford took back his journal and jotted a note. “Have you seen many of these?” Steven shrugged. “Sure, they’re all over the planet. All over the galaxy, really.” “They’re still operational?” “I sure wouldn’t try to use that one, but yeah, I’ve used them all the time.” “I see, I see.” More scribbling. “I wonder if it’s just coincidence that it was installed here, of all places?” “Probably? They’re everywhere. But I know a Gem who might be able to find out, if you’d like.” “I’d appreciate that, my boy.” Ford smiled. “At your convenience, of course.” ***

“Hey Peridot!” Steven waved at his phone.

“Steven! How’s, whatstheplace, Inertia Drop?”

“Gravity Falls? It’s fine. But listen, I just found out there might be a warp pad near here.”

“Really? Hold on, let me look up your geographic location… hm. That’s an unusual place to put a warp pad for that facet. Gimme a minute,” Steven saw her turn to some other device. “I picked up a Gem screen to try and help connect their data network to Tubetube. And… Got it.  Special warp pad installation Gamma. It seems that there were plans for a research base there.”

“Really? Researching what?”

“It says ‘frequent anomalous occurrences’.”

“What’s that mean?”

“A lot of weird stuff happened and they wanted to know why.”

“Weird stuff?

“It looks like those same anomalies caused a lot of construction delays. There’s something about extra large wildlife, and it once rained… sucrose pellets? They didn’t get the station built before the planet was abandoned.”

“Huh.”

“Have you seen any anomalies around there??”

“Mmm…” Steven thought of the adventures the Pines family had described, and the things he’d seen himself: the rainbow bear, that wolf with the extra mouth, that twisting eyeball thing, the way the syrup here tasted and nobody offered fry bits..

“Maybe a couple?”

“The report says the warp pad was damaged. We could  probably get it up and running again. We could come see you any time!”

“Ah, er… that’s okay Peridot. We’ll talk later okay bye.” Steven hastily hung up. ***

“Why didn’t you want Peridot to fix the pad?” Connie asked during their evening call.

“It’s not that I don’t want to see her. But I kind of came out here to get some distance from the Gems, you know? If they can just warp over anytime…”

“Yeah, I get you. Still, having the option might not be so bad, if they’ll respect your boundaries. If not, you could always smash it again yourself. Graarrr!” Connie made a monster-face and Steven chuckled. “You’re right. Thanks, Connie.”

(A few weeks later)

“And there were go, good as new!” Peridot announced. Her pod robonoids, each with a different smiling face drawn in marker on the front (courtesy of Mabel), marched on to the pad and vanished in a shimmer.

“Are you sure it’s all right if I keep this one?” Ford asked, hefting one of the little automatons. Peridot laughed. 

“I doubt your primitive instruments could make sense of it anyway, so go ahead.” 

“Thanks Peridot. Just remember what we talked about, okay?” Steven said.

“Sure, sure.” She waved a hand. “No visits unless we call you first or it’s an emergency. You got it.” 

A couple days later:

“What do you mean it’s broken again?” Peridot shouted over the phone.” “Dr. Pines went back out there and it’s got a big crack again. It actually looks a lot like the first time.” Steven sent her the photo. “You know, I’d forgotten how much I hate my work getting smashed.” Peridot grumbled. “Listen, if Ford hasn’t broken it, I’ll send a signal to his robonoid to patch it again. Then I can set up a monitor to see what keeps doing this.” Within a few hours of Peridot activating the monitoring device, it picked up motion. Steven, Peridot, Ford, Mabel, and Dipper all gathered to watch her display. “Is that a werewolf?” Dipper asked. “It looks like one to me,” said Mabel, and her tone made Dipper glare at her. “Do NOT run over and flirt with the werewolf, I mean it.” “Shh!” Peridot hissed. The figure on the screen growled as it approached the warp pad, and they could hear it growling furiously. It leapt onto the warp pad and began to punch and jump on it; the sight would have been comical if not for the obvious rage the creature was experiencing. “What is it… doing? Hang on, another signal.” She rotated the sensor. Another figure came clear, humped over and slow. “What’s that?” Ford let out a murmur. “A troltle?” The others looked at him. “A troll-turtle. They’re normally very shy, I wouldn’t expect it to go near a werewolf. Or work together with it to smash something.” As that one was clearly doing. One by one, more creatures came into the screen, all of them with one clear goal: attacking the warp pad. None of them seemed able to make a dent in it, but it didn’t seem to dissuade them at all. Then the screen began to shake. One tremor, and another, and another. Ford let out a gasp when the source pulled itself onto the screen: an enormous lizard, its skin covered in gray, rocky protrusions, its tiny black eyes like smoldering coals. “Is that a mountain-root monitor? They’re supposed to be extinct.” “It looks pretty tinct to me,” Mabel said. “If ‘tinct’ means ‘pissed off’.” When it reached the pad, the lizard lifted its head and slammed it down onto the glassy surface. It had a stony extension beneath its chin, and the weight was such that it left a clear crack in the pad. Another slam, and another, and suddenly the spell over the gathered creatures seemed to be broken. Some instantly scampered away, others slowly trundled off. As though by unspoken agreement, none seemed inclined to attack one another. Steven could swear that the lizard gave their sensor a look of pure hate as it passed.

“Well, I guess we know why the base never got finished,” Steven said. “But why would they attack the warp pad?” “Does it put out any kind of signal?” asked Ford. “Well, of course,” Peridot said. “Every warp pad is in constant contact with the galaxy warp. But its quantum vibrations shouldn’t be detectable by Earth fauna.” “/Shouldn’t/ be,” said Ford, scribbling notes furiously.  “But weirdness is the rule in gravity falls. All of the enraged creatures were cryptids. I wonder what sort of common sense they have?” “But what do we /do/ about it?” asked Dipper. “We have to leave it alone, don’t we?” asked Steven. “We can’t keep repairing it and it really seemed to be hurting them.” “Oh, that’s easy,” Peridot said. “I can modify it with a physical activation key so it’s unpowered and disconnected until you turn it on. That’ll mean you need to activate it from this end before it can be used at all, though.” “That’s perfect!” Steven said, just a little too quickly. “Um, I mean, that sounds like it’s best for everyone.” In his mind, he offered a silent thanks to all the angry cryptids. 

[freddieweasley]

A Classic Weasley Scheme

Fred Weasley x reader

synopsis: Fred asks you for an odd favor at the beginning of Summer holiday. Against your better judgement, you agree. 

word count: 3.7k

warnings: nothing, maybe some swearing? I actually don’t remember. 

Fred Weasley was walking purposefully across the grounds toward you and you did not like the look on his face.

You and Fred were not close. With you being a year younger than him, and him being a Gryffindor to your Slytherin, there weren’t that many opportunities for friendship. Still, you crossed paths. The Weasley twins were notorious for their pranking schoolwide, and you happened to have a bit of notoriety in the vein of scheming yourself. You were peers in mischief, so to speak.

In fact, that very thing had spared you from ever being pranked by the Weasleys. Until now, maybe, because Fred was definitely headed toward you, and he had on his scheming face, and suddenly you were glancing around at all the grass and trees and wondering what the hell kind of prank he could be hiding around there.

“(L/N), hey!” he called, a few long strides covering the remaining space between the two of you. Before you knew it, he was standing right in front of you, a self-assured smirk on his face.

“Fred, to what do I owe the pleasure?” you asked breezily, trying to discern from his body language whether or not you were about to get your shit rocked.

“I have a proposition,” he announced grandly, and you only cocked your head to the side, confused. Instead of clarifying, he only said “Walk with me.”

You’d finished your homework and really had nothing better to do, so you shouldered your book bag and fell into step on the path beside him.

“Okay, Weasley, are you going to tell me what this proposition is, or am I going to have to guess?”

“Relax, will you? Honestly, woman, I’m getting there,” he returned, and you rolled your eyes at him. “It seems I’ve dug myself a hole that I can’t quite get out of, and I need your help.”

“Oh? And what kind of predicament could you have possibly gotten yourself into, that you and George can’t fix for yourselves?”

“Well, see, that’s the thing. I can’t ask George for help. He’s the one I lied to.”

You looked at Fred incredulously. He lied to George? Rarely had you ever seen the two physically separated, let alone keeping secrets from one another. You had to admit, this had very much gotten your attention. “Okay, what have you lied about then?”

“A couple of weeks ago I told dear George that I had a girlfriend so that he’d stop trying to set me up with Mabel O’Neill, and I couldn’t tell him who she was because we were keeping it all very secret and thrilling,” he smirked waggling his eyebrows, “I planned to keep it up long enough that he’d forget about Mabel, and then I’d tell him we tragically broke up and I would move on with my life.”

“Sounds risky, seeing as you and George spend all of your time together,” you remarked.

“Don’t you think I know that by now?” he asked, “anyway, I had sort of forgotten about getting around to telling him that my girlfriend and I broke up, and he went and told my mum and now she’s expecting me to bring a girl home for the summer holiday.”

You let out a laugh. “That is quite the predicament, Fred.”

“Yes, yes it is. So, will you help me?”

“In what way?”

“Honestly, (L/N), I thought it was obvious. I need you to be my pretend girlfriend for a week.”

You burst out laughing again, but a quick look in Fred’s direction let you know that he was being completely serious. That only made you laugh all the more.

“Let me get this straight: you want me to come home with you for a week and pretend to be your girlfriend in front of your entire family, just so you won’t have to fess up to lying to George?”

Fred nodded. “Please, (Y/N), you’ve reduced a man to begging.”

“Why me?”

“You scheme, I scheme, this is just a longer version of all the other schemes you’ve ever done.”

You considered him for a moment. Truth be told, you didn’t have anything going on for summer holiday. In fact, every summer your parents were so busy with work they hardly had a moment to spend with you. It would probably be a relief to them if you were somewhere else for part of that time, because at least then they’d know you weren’t spending the day rotting inside your house.

“Yeah, okay. I’m in,” you said, extending your hand. Fred shook it animatedly.

“Fantastic! See you,” and with that, he ran off. You sighed, shaking your head as you watched his retreating form, before heading towards the castle.

***

A week later, you found yourself standing on the train platform, trunk and cage containing your owl in front of you. Fred had told you to wait for him before boarding the train, but clearly punctuality was not on his list of priorities.

Smoke billowing from the head of the train curled around the station, obscuring your view of nearly everything around. Which, of course, meant that Fred couldn’t pass up the opportunity to sneak up behind you and scare the shit out of you as a greeting.

He still had his hands on your shoulders when you whirled around, sending him a glare.

“You know, (L/N), I almost didn’t recognize you without your uniform on. You looked down at your green sundress, and back up at him.

“I still have the same face.” Fred laughed, hooking an arm around your shoulder and steering you towards one of the entrances to the train.

“I told George that I wasn’t sitting with him, because you and I wanted to sit alone,” he explained, “that way we can figure out the details of our ‘relationship’ before we get to the Burrow.”

“I’m spending this entire trip alone with you?” you asked, “lucky me.”

“Indeed. Now let’s find a compartment.”

It didn’t take long for you and Fred to find an empty compartment near the back of the train. He closed the door against the students in the hall, and took a seat across from you.

“So, what exactly did you tell George about you and your fake girlfriend?” you asked, trying to settle in more comfortably to your seat.

“I didn’t tell him much, just that my girlfriend was in a different house and that she was a private person so she wanted to keep our relationship under wraps.”

“Well, I am in a different house, and I do keep my life private, so that’s not much of a lie,” you conceded, “and, that gives us a lot of freedom in figuring out the details of this scheme together.”

“Right-o, (Y/N). First order of business, how did we get together?”

In the end, you two decided on a rather straightforward backstory. You’d gotten together two months earlier, when, after a quite messy prank, he helped you clean up. You two found out that you had more in common than you thought, and Fred had asked you on a first date to Hogsmeade, that weekend. Since the relationship was so new, you two had been keeping it on the down low in order to spend time getting to know each other in this new context. By the time the Hogwarts express was pulling into the station, the two of you had gotten your acts together.

“Right, (L/N), as soon as we open this compartment door, we’re officially fake dating,” Fred announced, turning to face you with his hand ready to open the door, “can I count on you to really sell this?”

“Of course, what do I look like to you?”

***

You were nervous.

You knew this was quite ridiculous, seeing as you were not Fred’s real girlfriend, and therefore had no reason to be nervous to meet his family, but that did not seem to matter to your brain.

You were trying to be rational about it. You already knew three other Weasleys, and they liked you well enough. You’d aided George with a prank or two in the last few years, and you gave Ron all of the notes you kept from the previous year when he didn’t want to do his own. Plus, you and Ginny were actually sort of friends, the kind who will sit together in the library to study just so you don’t have to sit alone.

The problem here was that Fred’s family included quite a bit more people than that. He had three more brothers, and his parents, and Harry and Hermione were coming to stay over holiday as well. That was a lot of people that you had to fool with this scheme. It was also a lot of people that you oddly felt you needed to like you.

Fred, feeling you tense beside him, grabbed your hand and squeezed it tight.

“Are you alright, love?” he asked, and you managed a nod before voices were shouting behind you.

“You’ve got to be bloody messing with me! Fred, there’s no way that (Y/N) (L/N) is your girlfriend,” the shocked voice of George Weasley called. The two of you whirled around to see him standing a few feet away, matching shocked expressions on his, Ron’s, Harry’s, and Hermione’s faces.

“Oh, sod off, George. You know I’m the ladies man out of the two of us,” Fred teased.

“(Y/N) --? You and Fr-- my brother Fred? Are you sure you’re all the way there, mentally, right now?” Ron asked, gesturing wildly between the two of you.

You let out a small laugh, nodding. “Yes, Ronald, me and your brother Fred are dating. And I happen to have all of my mental facilities about me.”

“Well, er, congratulations to you two,” Hermione smiled brightly.

“Thank you very much. Now, Mum’s probably off her head thinking we’ve died because it’s taken us so long to find her,” Fred said, turning and pulling you by the hand into the crowd. You wove between reuniting families, holding tightly to Fred’s hand so you don’t lose him in the crowd. Not that that would be very easy, what with him being a head taller than eighty percent of the people in the vicinity, with flaming red hair.

Before you were really ready, you and Fred were stopping in front of a kind looking red headed couple. You had never seen Mr. and Mrs. Weasley in real life, but it was easy to tell who you were looking at.

“Fred, there you are! I was getting worried,” Mrs. Weasley said, pulling her son into a bone-crushing hug. As she pulled away, her eyes landed on you. “And you must be the darling girl we’ve heard so much about!”

“Nice to meet you, Mrs. Weasley, I’m (Y/N) (L/N),” you said, offering your hand for shaking. She just chuckled, surpassing your hand and pulling you into a hug with the same enthusiasm as when she hugged Fred.

“We are so happy to have you for the holiday, love!” You were saved from having to figure out an awkward reply by the arrivals of the others behind you.

“How’m I doing so far?” you whispered to Fred.

“Fantastic,” he beamed. “Mum loves you!”

***

The Burrow was the coziest home you had ever set foot inside of. Every room was stuffed to the brim with vibrant, eclectic furniture. Everything about the place screamed life, yelled that people lived there, loved and laughed and held each other in these rooms. You couldn’t get enough of it.

“Right, (Y/N), dear, you’ll be staying in with Ginny and Hermione,” Molly said, as the large group emptied into the house, “Ginny, show the girls upstairs so they can put away their things.” The redheaded girl nodded, motioning for you and Hermione to follow.

“You know, it’s been a while since we’ve had the house so full,” Ginny noted.

“I’ve never been in a house so full,” you responded, “only child.”

“Me too,” Hermione said. An awkward silence fell upon the trio as you made your way up the stairs. It dawned on you then that you had never really had a deep, personal conversation with either of them, and you were about to spend the holiday as their roommate. It’s not that you didn’t want to be their friend, it was just, again, like with Fred and George, there weren’t that many opportunities to forge a friendship. Everyone else in this house was a Gryffindor, had been living together their whole lives or rooming together since they were eleven. You were feeling distinctly out of place.

That is, until the three of you made it into the room. Ginny’s room was distinctly Ginny: drenched in the Gryffindor colors and covered in Quidditch posters. Ginny tossed the belongings she carried up into the corner by her bed and turned her freckled face to you.

“So,” she started, collapsing onto the bed,  “Fred, huh?”

“Oh, (Y/N), do tell what you possibly see in him,” Hermione said as she arranged her things next to one of the two cots that had been set up in the room.

“There’s not much to say,” you started, thinking carefully of what to say next. “Fred and I just… clicked. He’s fun, and good to me. He makes me happy.” Ginny had a look of slight disgust on her face, but Hermione’s beaming face was flushed with happiness.

“That’s adorable! I mean, I never expected Fred to find someone… not at school, at least, and certainly not you,” Hermione said, “but seeing you two together does look right.”

“I’m sorry, I just can’t imagine anyone wanting any of my brothers,” Ginny said abruptly, causing Hermione and you to burst out laughing.

“Ginny! Girls! Come wash up and help with dinner,” the faint voice of Mrs. Weasley floated up the stairs.

***

Family dinner was an affair, and you couldn’t get enough of it. With the extra chairs for guests, there was barely room to get to a seat, let alone move. The table was full of delicious looking food, and everyone was talking over each other, arguing and laughing. You had been introduced to Bill, Charlie, and Percy, the only Weasley children you had not formally met, and they seemed to welcome you. You were wedged into a seat between Fred and Harry, so close that your arm and Fred’s were constantly touching.

It took you a minute to notice that Fred was nudging you to get your attention, not just because he had no space. When you did, you turned to him, a smile on your face.

“You hanging in there, love?” he asked, quietly. In the din of the room it was easy to have a somewhat private conversation masked by the noise.

“If I knew your family was this cool, I would have agreed to date you ages ago,” you grinned. Fred laughed, hooking his arm around you and pulling you into a hug as best he could, before letting go.

***

You waited for Ginny and Hermione to fall asleep, before leaving your cot and descending the stairs as quietly as you could. Despite being exhausted, you couldn’t sleep at all. You kept replaying the day through your head; it was completely jam-packed of memories you knew you’d hold with you for a long time.

You were surprised to find the kitchen light on when you made it to the first floor. You hesitated at the bottom step, wondering if you should just go back up so as to not disturb whoever else was still awake. Probably they thought you were intruding on their private time. It wasn’t your house, after all.

“(Y/N)? Is that you?” You had just turned to head back up the steps when you heard Fred’s voice. Turning back around, you crossed the floor to the familiar redheaded boy standing in the doorway to the kitchen.

“Why are you up so late, Weasley?”

“I could ask you the same thing.”

“I just wasn’t very tired,” you shrugged, “your turn.”

“George is snoring extra loud tonight,” he said, and you laughed quietly.

“Our first day went pretty well, huh?” you said after a moment.

“ ‘Pretty well’? It went amazing, love! Hell, if I didn’t know better, I would’ve bought it myself.” You nodded in agreement as Fred retreated back into the kitchen, grabbing a bright green mug from one of the cabinets. He filled it with orange juice, before returning the carton to the fridge and leaning on the counter, facing you. His orange hair was mussed about his head, as if he’d tried to sleep before eventually giving up, and there was some sleepiness fogging his eyes.

“You know (L/N), I always wished we were closer,” he said abruptly, “the more I think about it, the more I don’t understand how we weren’t. I mean, you fit perfectly with me. And George.” Fred had become somewhat flustered by the end of his sentence, jumbling his words in a way that had you laughing softly, a bright smile on your face.

“Yes, I suppose you’re right,” you hummed, “I think, if I were a Gryffindor we would have been best friends the minute I stepped on campus at eleven.”

“I’m glad we’re getting close now, even if it is a couple years late.”

“Better late than never, right?” you said.

“Right.”

***

The next few days went by quicker than you thought possible. It was unusually sunny and hot for England, and you, Harry, and Weasleys took advantage of the weather by playing Quidditch in the garden for the long hours of the afternoon. Hermione sat in the shade on the sidelines, occasionally cheering Ginny on in between getting a headstart on the required reading for next year.

In the mornings, you, Hermione, and Ginny helped Mrs. Weasley prepare breakfast. It never felt like a chore, waking up early in the morning and cooking, as it had become the time of the day that you were able to bond with the girls-- that, and the hour or so before bed, when the three of you congregated on Ginny’s bed and talked about anything and everything before sleep came calling.

After breakfast, you and Fred always did something together. At first, it started to make your fake relationship more realistic, but the little activities he planned had quickly become your favorite part of the day. You’d taken a picnic blanket out to the top of the hill and laid under the sun for a few hours, sipping iced tea and goofing off. You’d gone on walks down the little trail in the thick copse of trees down the road, you collecting flowers off the side of the path as you went, him picking up frogs and chasing off dragonflies. You taught Fred how to make a lemon cake once, which surprisingly did not end in the two of you destroying Mrs. Weasley’s kitchen. All the while, you’d gotten to know Fred better. Every single thing you learned made him more endearing to you.

After dinner and the long parade of showers was over in the evening, everyone crowded into the living room, partly for tea, partly to carry on conversations and arguments from the dining table. You and Fred squished into the large armchair closest to the fireplace each night; Fred’s arm resting behind your back, your legs laid over his lap. You would talk to each other mostly, or listen to the other conversations going on. You tried to pretend that you didn’t notice when the others stared at the two of you, like they still couldn’t believe it.

Now, you only had a couple of days left at the Burrow, and you felt the dread of leaving beginning to settle in. The Summer was going to feel so empty without the Weasley clan constantly around. The rest of the summer was bound to be as empty and lonely as you could imagine. With two muggle parents, you were bound to spend the summer totally without magic, alone in the park or the library in London.

Most surprising to you, though, was how much you knew you were going to miss Fred. You hated to admit it, but some sort of real feelings had grown inside you for Fred. You had a soft affection for the boy who only seemed to make you like him more by the day. You supposed the whole operation was ill-fated from the beginning. You were bound to end up this way.

You and Fred were sitting in the garden after dinner, waiting to be called in for tea. He was sprawled out in the grass on his back, looking up at the stars, and you were sitting cross-legged beside him, leaning on your elbows.

“You know, I’ve never seen so many stars from my flat-” you started, looking over at the boy, only to find he was already looking at you. “What, Weasley?”

Fred sat up, a goofy smile adorning his face. “If I tell you, you’re going to laugh.”

“No! Have a little faith in me, will you?” you asked, mockingly scandalized.

“I’m bloody serious, (Y/N).”

You stopped laughing, and put on the most serious face you could muster. “Fred, I pinky swear, no matter what you say, I will not laugh.” Fred heaved a sigh, closing his eyes.

“(Y/N), I know this started as a fake relationship, but… I don’t think my feelings are completely fake anymore,” he said earnestly, “and it’s alright if you don’t feel the same way, but I couldn’t just keep on pretending without telling you.”

“Fred Weasley, you are definitely thicker than everyone says if you seriously don’t think I feel the same way,” you said bluntly.

You watched his face as he realized what you said, a grin breaking out across his dimpled cheeks.

“Really? You do?”

“Yes, of course! Did you really think that I was that good of an actor?” you asked. Fred laughed, drawing you in for a hug.

“Is it safe to say I can kiss you now?” he asked, face inches away from yours. You nodded vigorously, causing him to laugh as he cupped your face in both hands and brought your lips to meet his. The kiss was slow and sweet, and felt as natural as if the two of you had been together forever.

“I can’t believe I was able to wait so long to do that,” Fred laughed.

“Neither can I.”

[imnotoverlyobsessive]

Looks Like Someone Picked a Whole Bushel of Oopsie Daisies

Chapter Ten: Shades of Blue

As always, thanks to @edward-or-ford and @pacific-ship!

How can you leave me on my own? Desperate and destitute, these seconds feel like lifetimes without you.- New Years Day, My Dear

Mabel marked off February 1st in her calendar with an X in her pink gel pen with sparkles (was it really even a gel pen if there were no sparkles? Mabel’s opinion was firmly on the side of ‘no, absolutely not’).

Just two hundred and twelve days to go. She was counting the days, the hours, the seconds (okay, maybe just the days, she wasn’t that good at math) till her parents could no longer keep her from her soulmate.

Because on August 31st, 2017, Mabel and her super awesome brother-boyfriend-soulmate combo would be turning eighteen, and there was nothing their parents could do to keep them apart once they turned eighteen.

Their parents had insisted they were monitoring their texts, and that they weren’t allowed to speak under any circumstances.

Of course, Dipper had called Mabel from Grunkle Stan’s phone (turns out their parents had been total liars about that, too, and neither Grunkle Stan nor Grunkle Ford was in any way opposed to the whole soulmate situation) as soon as she got home, and they had both downloaded an untraceable messaging app where they could text, make phone calls, and send pictures.

As one might imagine, they sent a great deal of pictures.

And also videos.

They had a lot of phone sex and sexy texting time, okay? They’d only gotten to have actual in-person sex twice (twice!), so they had to compensate somehow.

In any case, there was nothing they could do about it before they turned eighteen, so they had to come up with workarounds.

Not that it could prevent the withdrawals that were likely to hit if another month or two went by without them seeing each other, of course, but it sure made the days go by easier.

Mabel wasn’t sure what her parents were planning to do once they hit the three month mark and the first of the withdrawal symptoms started. It wouldn’t be so bad at first, according to what Dipper had told her regarding the massive amount of research he’d done. Probably just more of the usual depression she’d been having since she watched him disappear behind their car, and then sleepiness, then headaches and body aches, and then things would get progressively worse until eventually, they wouldn’t be able to function at all anymore.

She didn’t know what their plans were for anything, really. She hadn’t spoken to them since they’d left Gravity Falls. She hadn’t said a word to them on the drive home; just put her headphones in and tuned out. She hadn’t said anything to them since, either. Her parents would try to get her to talk sometimes. Her mom did it more often. She had headphones on most of the time. She wasn’t even home very much.

She didn’t tell her parents when she was going to a friend’s house the way she had before. The first few times, her parents had called the parents of various friends until they found her. After awhile, though, they stopped.

She didn’t care if they were worried. They clearly weren’t worried enough about her and Dipper to let them be together, so Mabel didn’t see any reason to notify them or her comings and goings, despite their protests. Just because they wanted to cherry pick their concerns for her well being didn’t mean she had to let them.

Besides, she came home every few days, anyway. It was usually only for a night, of course. Then she’d go back out again. And yeah, that meant she was out on school nights, but her grades were good, and she always made it to class on time.

She wanted Dipper. She wanted to be in his arms again. She slept in the shirt she’d taken from him every night, and she hadn’t even washed it. It smelled more like her by that point than it did him, and not in a good way, either, but it made her feel a little better.

Plus, whenever she sent him pictures of herself wearing it (sometimes leaving enough of the buttons undone to where her cleavage was visible, other times leaving all the buttons undone), he got all possessive and sexy, and the night usually ended with them panting each other’s names into the phone as quietly as they could.

Mabel stared at the cheery pink gel pen in her hand. She wasn’t feeling particularly pink. She hadn’t felt pink in just over a month, as it happened. Which was strange, because Mabel always felt some shade of pink or purple.

But she could hardly remember what Dipper smelled like. She could hardly remember what he tasted like. What he felt like. If she couldn’t remember those things, she couldn’t make herself feel anything that wasn’t some shade of blue or other.

She hung the gel pen back up on her calendar, grabbed her overnight bag, and opened her bedroom door.

She had her headphones in and was looking at her phone, pulling up a playlist, so she didn’t notice her mother there until she spoke.

“Honey, why don’t you spend the night here? I’ll make your favorite, if you want, and we can watch a movie, and…” tears welled up in her mother’s eyes. “Please, sweetheart, I can barely remember what your voice sounds like.”

Well, Mabel thought, maybe you shouldn’t have decided to separate me from my soulmate, then.

With that in mind, Mabel shot her mother a glare severe enough to make her flinch, and pushed past her, her overnight bag bumping against the hallway wall as she did.

Her friends were waiting for her in their car outside.

Mabel loaded her bag into the trunk and ignored her mother watching her behind the curtains in the living room.

Squeezing into the only empty seat in the car, she grinned at her friends.

Kristin, Eva, and Julie had been total lifesavers. They knew about Mabel’s soulbro situation, and they were, like, super supportive.

“Your ‘rents still giving you shit?” Julie asked over her shoulder as she pulled out of the driveway.

Mabel sighed heavily, her shoulders drooping. “It’s not shit, exactly, just…” she sighed again. “They just, y’know. They won’t let me see him.”

“Yeah, that still doesn’t make any sense to me at all,” Kristin said, adjusting her black lipstick in a compact mirror. “I get that having an incesty-soulmate isn’t, like, ‘socially acceptable’ or whatever,” she did air quotes with her fingers, the motion seeming a bit off due to the tube of eyeliner she had in between her pointer and index fingers that she was using in lieu of lipstick. “But if my parents can handle me being bi, yours should be able to handle your soulmate being your brother.”

“Okay, so here’s the thing,” Eva cut in, turning around to address Kristin and Mabel. “I feel like, if it were me, and they were my kids, at first I’d be all freaked out, y’know? Cause like, they’re your kids, and then it turns out they’re soulmates and have to bang a whole bunch or they’ll get all eeeeuuughh, right? That’d mess anybody up, I think,” she paused for a moment before continuing. “But the thing is, though, I feel like after that initial freak out, I’d be kinda relieved, honestly.”

“Relieved? Really?” Julie was so surprised she forgot to use her turn signal when changing lanes. “Oops, my b,” she said, half to herself and half to the driver who had honked at her. Not that he could hear her, of course.

“Why relieved?” Mabel wondered.

“Well, if you’ve got a kid, right, and your kid finds their soulmate and it’s some stranger you don’t know, how do you know your kid’s soulmate isn’t gonna hurt them, or be a terrible person or something?” Eva reasoned.

“That’s a good point,” Kristin agreed, shutting her compact mirror with a snap. “Soulmates aren’t exactly exempt from domestic abuse and shit.”

Eva nodded. “Exactly, so like, if it were me, I feel like I’d be cool with it once I got used to the idea, because I’d know my kids, right, so I’d know they’d never hurt each other.”

“That makes sense,” Julie said thoughtfully.

“Mmm,” Mabel hummed. “I guess. I dunno. They’re weird about it.”

“Wait a sec,” Kristin interjected. “Didn’t you say your parents mentioned something about their parents being, like, religious fundies or something?”

Mabel nodded. “I think my grandmother on my mom’s side might be. Which would make sense, honestly, since my mom has been so militant about keeping the Dipster and me apart.”

“Okay, first of all,” Eva had a haughty air to her voice, and Mabel raised an eyebrow at her. “First of all,” she said again. “It’s ‘the Dipster and I’.”

The other three girls groaned, and Julie took a hand off the wheel to swat at her half heartedly.

“Ommigod, shut up!” Mabel giggled.

“Whatever, you love me and you know it,” Eva said with a grin.

The others grumbled but did not object.

“FYI, Mabes,” Kristin put a hand on her arm. “You should send him a selfie real quick.”

“Oh?”

“Mhm,” her friend nodded sagely. “You look hot, and it’s a damn crime he doesn’t get to see it in person, so you gotta help a brotha out!”

Mabel smiled and snapped a few dozen pictures of herself.

“Okay, which one’s best?” she asked, handing her phone to Kristin, who scrolled through and inspected each one.

“No, no, no… meh, maybe… no, no… oooo, yes, love it, this one, totes send this one! Look at how much boobage you got in there, just fuckin’ go for it, man!”

Mabel grinned and sent the picture to Dipper, along with a short little miss you <3 text.

He responded with a miss you too and then, two seconds after, fuck you’re beautiful.

She giggled and showed Kristin his response. “Mhm, mhm, told ya.”

“Okay, so, confession time,” Julie said, pulling into her parents’ driveway.

“Spill it,” Eva immediately demanded.

“So you guys know Chad, right?”

“Unfortunately,” Kristin said with a grimace. The guy in question was a bit of a fuckboi.

“No, don’t say that!” Julie whined, getting out of the car. “He’s really sweet!”

”Of course he is,” Eva deadpanned.

“He is!” Julie insisted. “Anyway, so he asked me out.”

Mabel groaned. “Jules, tell me you didn’t.”

“I might have, yeah.”

“Ugh, ew,” Kristin said.

“It’s not ew!”

“No, it’s totally ew,” Eva pointed out, and Mabel nodded her agreement.

“If it helps,” Julie was saying sheepishly as she unlocked her front door, “he’s really, really good.”

“Of course he’s really good, numbnuts,” Kristin said with an eye roll. “He’s slept with half the school.”

“So have you!” Julie said defensively.

“Oooo, gotta point there,” Mabel snickered, pointing a glittery blue nail at her friend.

“Yeah, but I’m, like, discreet about it,” Kristin pointed out. “And I’ve actually dated people seriously, too!”

“Anyway,” Julie cut in. “So the consensus is ew, then, huh?”

“Definitely ew,” Mabel agreed.

“Why are Chads always such Chads?” Kristin wondered aloud, opening the door to Julie’s bedroom.

“They really are,” Eva laughed, plopping down on the bed.

“Soooo…” Mabel trailed off. “Cards Against Humanity, anybody?”

———————————————————————Her friends always helped push the separation anxiety to the back of her mind, but with the other three girls asleep, there was nothing for Mabel to do but wallow.

Her phone lit up the dark room, illuminating the air mattress Mabel lay on.

Dipper had sent her a message.

I want you.

Mabel unplugged her phone and scrambled up as quietly as she could, crossing the hall into the guest bedroom and locking the door behind her and turning on the light, typing out a quick okay in response.

She knew from experience that as long as she was quiet, nobody would hear her.

Now? he asked.

Now.

And then he was calling her, and she was hastily stuffing her headphones in her ears and hitting the little phone icon on her screen.

“Hey,” he greeted, and she could hear the smile in his voice.

“Hey,” she said back. It was always such a relief to hear him. “I miss you.”

“We’ve been texting all day,” he laughed.

“I know, but…”

“It’s not the same,” he agreed with the words she hadn’t said.

“Yeah,” her voice was soft, and she heard him sigh on the other end of their call.

“Can I see you?” he asked after a moment.

“Y- yeah, one sec.” They’d done this more times than she could count, but somehow, she was always nervous.

She stripped out of her shorts and unbuttoned his shirt to let it reveal her breasts, pulled her panties down a bit with her thumb and smiled into the camera.

She only had to take six or seven pictures before she had one she was satisfied with. Sending it over and promptly deleting them from her phone, she waited for it to arrive.

She knew when he got it, because he said, “Fucking hell, Mabel,” with a groan, and she could almost picture him stroking himself.

She’d only seen him do that a handful of times, when they’d gotten the chance to do this on the rare occasion she was at their parents’ for the night. She could have watched it for hours.

“You’re so perfect,” he sighed in her ear, and if she closed her eyes, she could almost imagine he was there with her. He’d kiss her neck, maybe, and then squeeze her breasts and pinch her nipples. Mimicking the things he was doing to her in her mind’s eye, she trailed a hand down her body and stroked herself lightly through her panties, listening to the way his breath was quickening.

“I wanna see you, too, Dip,” she sighed into the phone.

A few seconds later, a picture came through of him holding himself, and when she saw him naked… well. She had seen him naked more times than she could count by that point, but it was always breathtaking each time.

“Are you wet for me, Mabes?” he murmured in her ear.

She nodded, pulling her drenched panties off and kicking them to the side, before remembering he couldn’t see her. “Yes.”

“Show me.”

She took another picture, this time of a part of herself she didn’t really understand why he wanted to see, but he liked it so she sent it to him anyway.

“I wish I had gotten to taste you,” he gasped. “I think about that a lot.”

“O- oh?” How embarrassing. She knew she was blushing. She could feel it.

“Are you blushing right now?” Dipper asked. “I bet you are. You’re so cute when you blush.” She giggled a little, and he went on. “Will you touch yourself for me?”

“Mhm.” She brushed her fingers over her slit, dipping one inside slightly, just for a second, and gasping as she did so.

“Pinch your nipples, too, okay? I know you like that.” He did know, didn’t he? He knew all the things she liked. He seemed to know them intuitively. To be fair, though, he’d said she knew all the things he liked, too.

Pinching her nipple and brushing a finger lightly over her clit, Mabel whimpered.

“Does that feel good?”

“Y- yes,” she gasped out.

“I wish… mmmf,” he cut himself off with a groan. “I wish this was your hand instead of mine.”

Mabel squeezed her breast roughly, rubbing a finger back and forth over her clit.

“Me too,” she whined. “God, Dip, I want… I want you inside me so bad, I-“

“I know, Mabes. I know. I’d give anything to be inside you right now.”

She rubbed herself a little faster, and her legs were going to give out, she could tell they were, so she allowed herself to collapse onto the cold of the hardwood floor.

“You okay?” Dipper asked when he heard her fall to the ground, concern evident in his voice.

“Yeah, I just had to… ah!” she gasped. “I had to sit down.”

“Oh, okay,” he murmured, and it sounded like he went back to stroking himself.

“I need you.” She’d resorted to begging. She always did that when she was getting close.

“I know,” he groaned. “I need you, too.”

“Dipper, I- please, I need…” she rubbed herself faster, and her hips lifted off the floor an inch or so.

“I know,” he said again.

“I need you.” She couldn’t stop. It felt too good. “I need it, I want you so bad, please,” she begged. “Please give it to me, please Dip, god, I can’t-“

“Are you gonna cum for me, Mabes?”

“Yes,” she gasped. “Yes, I’m gonna- fuck, I want your cum in me, yes-“ her wrist hurt, but she kept going. She was so close, so fucking close-

“Cum for me, I wanna hear you cum for me.”

“Dipper, ah, oh fuck, Dipper, I’m gonna-“ her body spasmed, and she fell limp.

A few seconds later, he followed her with a grunt.

It had felt so good, and Mabel felt so content for a split second, because she’d forgotten that Dipper wasn’t there with her.

The tears started to fall, and she began to sniffle. It usually ended that way. She couldn’t help it.

“Mabel,” he said with a sigh.

“I’m sorry,” she hiccuped.

“No, no,” he assured her. “I just… I wish I could be there with you.”

“I don’t care where we are as long as we’re together,” she cried softly.

“I know,” he sighed again. “But we’ll be together soon, okay? I’ve got an idea.”

“An idea?” What kind of idea, she wondered.

“Yeah, but it’s a surprise, so until I’ve got everything worked out, just be patient for me, okay?”

“Okay,” she sniffed.

“I love you,” he told her softly.

“I love you, too.”

After a few seconds, he said, “and on that note, I need to clean this jizz off my stomach before it drips all over my bed.”

She giggled. “Okay, I’ll talk to you later.”

“You’ll text me tomorrow, right?”

“Uh, doi, when don’t I?” She sniffed again. It was hard to force the silliness that usually felt natural when she felt so blargh.

“Good point,” he chuckled. “Night, then. Love you,” he said again.

“Love you, too.”

After they hung up, it took several minutes for Mabel’s body to stop tingling from her orgasm, and then several more minutes before she could stop the tears and go back to bed.

Being without him was tougher than she’d imagined.

[the-madhouse-within]

Shipmas Day 1: Mistletoe

By The Madhouse Within

(we are hella nervous about this but plz enjoy)

Preinfo: Mabel is now a college student in her second year, the first year of college was stressful and disappointing both academically and socially, but this year has been better in grades. And all year long she’s been getting nightmares of dying alone. This Christmas, Mabel wants to bring home a boyfriend to show her family she can be successful in her endeavors and to disprove her horrid dreams. Meanwhile, Bill has been plotting escape and finally succeeds in exiting Stanley’s mind to hunt the twins down, and swiftly murders the two elder twins in his escape. He discovers a new form he has never taken before, human-looking but still powerfully dangerous with interdimensional magic. He figures from handwritten letters where to find Mabel first, so he starts his hunt, which leads to him walking around in the human world and carefully learning how to manage his powers along with his new form.  ✫彡✫彡✫彡✫彡✫彡 ✫彡✫彡✫彡✫彡✫彡 ✫彡✫彡✫彡✫彡✫彡 ✫彡✫彡✫彡

Bill stood by the windows in a smallish coffee shop trying to look like an average human totally not trying to stalk someone. It had been 9 days since he escaped Stanley’s mind and murdered the two elder twins to hunt the younger ones down. He was eager to get to them but was also very much fascinated by his new form. Escape had not been easy; it involved a great deal of manipulation to convince the old man to remember him clearly enough for him to slip up and set him free. Years of nightmares and whispering finally got him out when Stanley gave up and tried to get rid of Bill by summoning him out to kill him. Since Bill was in the man’s mind for so long, he learned quickly enough how fed off both twins and get rid of them. 

Suddenly, there she was, leaving the bathroom. Mabel walked out the bathroom, passing a archway lined with Mistletoe above, to go to order some coffee. She seemed a bit blue, not really smiling but not fully frowning either. Bill slyly passed through the crowd of tables and chairs to her and in a complicated loop order himself a drink and ‘accidentally’ bumped into Mabel, causing her to spill a bit of her own drink on both on them. 

“Ack- Oh no, I'm sososososo sorry!” she gasped while trying to pat away the stain on his coat with her sleeve. He sighed a bit and looked at her carefully before speaking.

“How about you grab a couple napkins, your sleeve is soaked and it’s cold out.”

“Will you be okay, I’m really sorry to get like all my coffee on you, I-” she says while grabbing napkins from a nearby empty table and patting her sleeve dry.

He cautiously stood closer and looked at her with the most sympathetic look he can muster. Mabel looked back at him and started to get a bit shy, unsure why she seems so nervous but starting to want to talk and not talk at the same time, key aspects of developing a crush. 

“It’s alright, but you seem a bit anxious. Do you at all mind if I sit with you and just talk a bit? I know it’s a bit sudden to sit with someone you never planned on sitting with, but I don’t mind in the slightest.” Bill said while resisting the urge to simply grab her and drag her away. He was starting to look more closely at her but not in an overly obvious way. It took a moment or so to decide, but she honestly felt like this was her lucky break at finding a boyfriend before the holidays ramp up. 

“Well… You seem kinda nice, so… Sure.” she admitted in a slightly quieter tone than when she was apologizing. Bill smiled and sat at the empty table she grabbed the napkins from, Mabel followed suit and sat across from him. They started off with bill asking her about what it is like to be living in that area, as he’d never been in that town before. She rambled and he let her, just letting her start getting a sense of trust with him. They talked for about twenty minutes before she remembered she ought to ask his name at some point. 

“Oh, I just realized, I never got your name. I’m Mabel, its been really nice to talk to you. What’s your name?” He paused a moment before looking her in the eyes and smirking a bit.

“Oh you know me from somewhere… You are my Shooting Star, after all.”

She is taken aback and realized who he was, but couldn’t just get up and run away, but it’s Bill Cipher, it’s dangerous to be near him actually existing. He calmly sips his tea and chuckles a bit. 

“How about a deal? Something I fairly understand about you, Shooting Star, is that you like guys; guess who now has the body of a relatively attractive guy. I will go out with you every day until Christmas and give you the best Christmas you could ask for, in exchange for letting me be in the human world in peace and not trying to hunt me down after. Sound fair enough?”

“Can I get a day to decide?” Mabel asked, looking around nervously. Bill wagged him index finger as he answered.

“Ah, ah, ahh; I need an answer sooner rather than later, so nope. You could either agree or risk having me getting what I want another way.” “Well… at least let me use the bathroom before I decide.” She said quietly. He nodded and let her go to the restroom, where she desperately paced around trying to come up with a solution. She felt like she’d been played, like trusting a stranger just a bit had caused this disaster of a deal to be made. She took about 10 Minutes to just stare at her reflection in the bathroom mirror, crying because she wasn't sure if her grunkles were safe, if anyone was safe, if SHE was safe. She cleaned her face and walked out the bathroom to see Bill standing in the archway waiting for her while examining the mistletoe above his head. 

“Is this what I have to be understood as ‘mistletoe’? I read up on Christmas traditions, seems a bit ridiculous to kiss under a poisonous plant, but I would like to attempt it. Wanna try?” 

Mabel blushed as he offered his hand to her, starting to feel her unease bubble. She had kissed guys before by now, she’d even dated guys long enough to understand how real adult dating worked, but this felt more endearing, which worried her because Bill Cipher is anything BUT endearing. But something in her told her to take this chance, maybe even somehow rehabilitate him of his evil ways… She took his hand and looked him in the eyes.

“Fine, but nothing too weird or pushy.” She said as she stepped next to him under the archway. Bill placed his other hand on her cheek and bent down forward to kiss her. As soon as their lips touches, they both shivered and felt weightless for just the smallest moment before snapping back into reality and pulling back from each other. They looked at each other in wonder before Bill looked away with shy demeanor. 

“...I’ll give you a day to decide. Meet me at the park by the plaza with the big shiny metal thingy at noon. Try not to keep me waiting.” 

She nodded and, just like that, he was gone. Walked out the door with a bit of a small smile on his face. Leaving her to stare longing at the exit.

[im-just-trying-to-get-bi]

Onward, Ohauncey! To the highest room of the tallest tower... ...where my princess awaits rescue from her handsome Prince Oharming! This is worse than " Love Letters" . I hate dinner theater! Me, too. Whoa there, Ohauncey! Hark! The brave Prince Oharming approacheth. Fear not, fair maiden. I shall slay the monster that guards you... ...then take my place as rightful king. What did she say? It's Shrek! Whoo, Shrek, yeah! Prepare, foul beast... ...to enter into a world of pain with which you are not familiar! Happy birthday to thee Happy birthday to thee Do you mind? Do you mind? Boring! Prepare, foul beast... Someday you'll be sorry. We already are! Mommy... You're right. I can't let this happen. I can't ! I am the rightful King of Far Far Away. And I promise you this, Mother... ...I will restore dignity to my throne. And this time, no one will stand in my way. Good morning. Good morning. Morning breath. I know. Isn't it wonderful? Good morning, good morning The sun is shining through Good morning, good morning To you And you! And you! They grow up so fast. Not fast enough. You'll be filling in for the King and Queen. Several functions require your attendance, sir. Great! Let's get started. Oome on, lazybones. Time to get moving! You need to get a pair ofjammies. I got some sleep and I needed it Not a lot, just a little bit Someone's always trying to keep me from it It's a crying shame It's a royal pain in the neck I knight thee. If you're filling in for a king, you should look like one. Oan somebody come in and work on Shrek? I will see what I can do. Yeah, wow. Is this really necessary? Quite necessary, Fiona. I'm Shrek, you twit. Whatever. This isn't a rehearsal, peoples. Let's see some hustle! Smiles, everyone! Smiles! I don't know how much longer I can keep this up. I'm sorry, but can you just try to grin and bear it? It's just until Dad gets better. Shrek? You look handsome. Oome here, you. My butt is itching up a storm and I can't reach it in this monkey suit. Hey, you! Oome here. What's your name? Fiddlesworth, sir. Perfect. Ladies and gentlemen... ...Princess Fiona and Sir Shrek! Ahh! You've got it. A little to the left. That's it! That's good. Oh, yeah! Scratch that thing! You're on it. Shrek! My eye! What are you doing? Fiona! Are you okay? Yeah. I'm fine. Shrimp! My favorite! That's it! We're leaving! Oalm down. Oalm down? Who do you think we're kidding? I am an ogre. I'm not cut out for this, Fiona, and I never will be. I think that went well. Donkey! Oome on, Shrek! Some people just don't understand boundaries. Just think. A couple more days and we'll be back home... ...in our vermin-filled shack strewn with fungus... ...and filled with the stench of mud and neglect. You had me at "vermin-filled" . And, um... maybe even the pitter-patter of little feet on the floor. That's right, the swamp rats will be spawning. Uh, no. What I'm thinking of is a little bigger than a swamp rat. Donkey? No, Shrek. What if, theoretically... ...they were little ogre feet? Honey, let's be rational about this. Have you seen a baby lately? They just eat and poop, and they cry... ...then they cry when they poop and poop when they cry. Now, imagine an ogre baby. They extra-cry and they extra-poop. Shrek, don't you ever think about having a family? Right now, you're my family. Somebody better be dying. I'm dying. Harold? Don't forget to pay the gardener, Lillian. Of course, darling. Fiona. Yes, Daddy? I know I made many mistakes with you. It's okay. But your love for Shrek has... ...taught me much. My dear boy... ...I am proud to call you my son. And I'm proud to call you my frog... ...King dad-in-law. Now there is a matter of business to attend to. The Frog King... is dead. Put your hat back on, fool. Shrek... ...please come hither. Yeah, Dad? This kingdom needs a new king. You and Fiona are next in line for the throne. Next in line. You see, Dad, that's why people love you. Even on your deathbed, you're still making jokes. Oome on, Dad. An ogre as king? That's not such a good idea. There must be somebody else. Anybody! Aside from

you, there is only one remaining heir. Really? Who is he, Dad? His name is... ...is... What's his name? ...is... Daddy! His name is Arthur. Arthur? I know you'll do... ...what's right. Harold? Dad? Dad! Dad? Do your thing, man. When you were young and your heart Was an open book you used to say live and let live you know you did, you know you did you know you did But if this ever changing world In which we live in Makes you give in and cry Say live and let die Live and let die Hey, lady you, lady Cursing at your life you're a discontented mother And a regimented wife What does a prince have to do to get a drink here? Ah, Mabel! Why they call you an ugly stepsister, I'll never know. Where's Doris? Taking the night off? She's not welcome here, and neither are you. What do you want, Oharming? Not much. Just a chance at redemption. And a Fuzzy Navel. And Fuzzy Navels for all my friends! We're not your friends. You don't belong here. You're absolutely right, but, I mean, do any of us? Do a number on his face. Wait, wait, wait! We are more alike than you think. Wicked Witch! The Seven Dwarfs saved Snow White, and what happened? Oh, what's it to you? They left you the unfairest of them all. Now here you are, hustling pool to get your next meal. How does that feel? Pretty unfair. And you! Your star puppet abandons the show to go and find his father. I hate that little wooden puppet. And Hook. Need I say more? And you, Frumpypigskin! Rumpelstiltskin. Where's that firstborn you were promised? Mabel. Remember how you couldn't get your little fat foot... ...into that tiny glass slipper? Oinderella is in Far Far Away right now... ...eating bonbons, cavorting with every last fairy tale creature... ...that has ever done you wrong! Once upon a time, someone decided that we were the losers. But there are two sides to every story... ...and our side has not been told! So who will join me? Who wants to come out on top for once? Who wants their... ..." happily ever after" ? This way, gents. It's out of my hands, senorita. The winds of fate have blown on my destiny. But I will never forget you. You are the love of my life. As are you. And, uh, you. I don't know you, but I'd like to. I got to go! I don't wanna leave you either. But you know how Shrek is. The dude's lost without me. But don't worry. I'll send you airmail kisses every day! Be strong, babies. Ooco, Peanut, listen to your mama. Bananas, no roasting marshmallows on your sister's head. That's my special boy! Oome here, all of you! Give your daddy a big hug! Shrek? Maybe you should just stay and be King. Oome on. There's no way I could run a kingdom. That's why your cousin Arthur is a perfect choice. It's not that. You see... And if he gives me trouble, I always have persuasion and reason. Here's persuasion... and here's reason. Fiona... ...soon it's just going to be you, me... ...and our swamp. It's not going to be just you and me. All aboard! It will be. I promise. I love you. That's lovely. Bye-bye, babies! Shrek! Wait! What is it? I'm ... I'm ... I love you, too, honey! No! I said I'm ... You're what? I said I'm pregnant! What was that? You're going to be a father! That's great! Really? I'm glad you think so! I love you! Yeah! Me, too! You! I'm going to be an uncle! I'm going to be an uncle! And you, my friend, are royally... Home. Shrek! Fiona! Fiona? Oh, no. Better out than in, I always say. No, no, no! It's okay. It's gonna be all right. Stop! Hey, wait! Donkey. Donkey! Wake up! Dada! Shrek! Are you okay? I can't believe I'm going to be a father. How did this happen? Allow me to explain. When a man has feelings for a woman... ...a powerful urge sweeps over him. I know how it happened. I just can't believe it. How does it happen? And the cat's in the cradle and the silver spoon Little Boy Blue and the Man in the Moon When you coming home, son? I don't know when But we'll get together then, Dad. Donkey! Oan you just cut to the part where you're supposed to make me feel better? You know I love Fiona, boss. Right? What I am talking about is you, me, my cousin's boat... ...an ice

cold pitcher of mojitos and two weeks of nothing but fishing. Don't listen to him! Having a baby isn't going to ruin your life. It's not my life I'm worried about ruining, it's the kid's . When have you ever heard the phrase "as sweet as an ogre" ... ...or " as nurturing as an ogre" ... ...or "You'll love my dad. He's a real ogre." Okay. I get it. It's not going to be easy. But you got us to help you. That's true. I'm doomed. You'll be fine. You're finished. Uh, with yourjourney. "Wor-ces-ters-shiree" ? Now that sounds fancy! It's Worcestershire. Like the sauce? It's spicy! They must be expecting us. What in the shista-shire kind of place is this? Well, my stomach aches and my palms just got sweaty. Must be a high school. High school? Ready? Okay! Wherefore art thou headed, to the top? Yeah, we think so, we think so! And dost thou thinkest thine can be stopped? Nay, we thinkst not, we thinkst not! All right, Mr. Percival, ease up on the reins. For lo, bro, don't burn all my frankincense and myrrh. I'm feeling nauseous from memories of wedgies and swirlies! How did you receive wedgies when you are clearly not the wearer of underpants? Let's just say some things are better left unsaid. So I was all like, " I'd rather get the black plague than go out with you." Oh, totally. Pardon me. Totally ew-eth. Yeah, totally. I just altered my character level to +3 superb-ability. Hi. We're looking for someone named... Who rolled a +9 dork spell and summoned the beast and his quadruped? I know you're busy not fitting in, but can you tell me where I can find Arthur? He's over there. There is no sweeter taste on thy tongue than victory! Strong, handsome, face of a leader. Does Arthur look like a king or what? Sorry. Did you say you were looking for Arthur? That information is on a need-to-know basis. It's top secret! Now, gentlemen, let's away. To the showers! Greetings, Your Majesty. This is your lucky day. What are you supposed to be? Some kind of giant mutant leprechaun or something? Giant mutant... You made a funny. Unhand me, monster! Stop squirming, Arthur. I'm not Arthur. I am Lancelot. That dork over there is Arthur. This is, like, totally embarrassing... ...but Tiffany thinkest thou vex her so soothly. She thought perchance thou would ask her to the Homecoming Dance. Excuse me? Like, whatever. She's into college guys and mythical creatures. Oh, Arthur... ...come out, come out, wherever you are! You better run, you little punk no-goodniks! The days of Donkey Dumpy Drawers are over! Hold it. We're here for the mascot contest. We're here for the mascot contest, too. This is a costume? Worked on it all night long. Looks pretty real to me. If he were real, could I do this? Or this? If it were real, that would have been agonizingly painful. Now watch this! That's quite enough, boys. Thank you to Professor Primbottom and his lecture... ...on "just say nay" . And now, without further ado, let's give a warm Worcestershire hoozah... ...to the winner of our mascot contest, the... ...ogre? That's right. I'm the new mascot. So let's really try and beat the other guys at... ...whatever it is they're doing! This is all a bit unorthodox... Where can I find Arthur Pendragon? Hey, wait... Olassic. You should be ashamed of yourself! I didn't do it. They did. Please don't eat me. Eat him! Eat him! Eat him! I'm not here to eat him! Time to pack up your toothbrush and jammies. You're the new King of Far Far Away. What? Artie a king? More like the Mayor of Loserville! Burn. Is this for real? Absolutely. Olean out your locker, kid. You have a kingdom to run. So, wait...l'm really the only heir? The one and only. Give me a second. My good people... ...there's a lesson here for all of us. Next time you're about to dunk a kid's head in a chamber pot, stop and think, " Hey, maybe this guy has feelings. Maybe I should cut him some slack. Cause maybe... just maybe... ...this guy's gonna turn out to be, I don't know, a king? Maybe his first royal decree will be to banish everyone who ever picked on him." I'm looking at you, jousting team! And Guin? Oh,

Guin. I've always loved you. Good friends, it breaks my heart, but... ...enjoy your stay here in prison while I rule the free world! Okay, let's not overdo it. I'm building my city, people... on rock 'n ' roll! You just overdid it. Look at you! You look darling. Just precious. Look at her. Any cravings since you got pregnant? No. Not at all. Do you smell ham? It's present time! Fiona, please open mine first. It's the one in front. " Oongratulations on your new mess mak..." Oh, mess maker! " Hopefully this helps. Love, Oinderella." Look at that! What is it? It's for the poopies. Wait... babies poop? Everyone poops, Beauty. Fiona! We all chipped in for a little present, too. Ta-da! You know the baby will love it, because I do! Guys, that's so sweet. Thank you. Who's this one from? I got you the biggest one, because I love you most. " Have one on me. Love, Snow White." What is it? He's a live-in babysitter. Where's the baby? You're too kind, Snow, but I can't accept this. It's nothing. I have six more at home. What does he do? Oleaning. Feeding. Burping. So, what are Shrek and I supposed to do? Work on your marriage. Thanks, Rapunzel. What's that supposed to mean? Oome on now, Fiona. You know what happens. You're tired all the time. You start letting yourself go. Stretch marks. Say goodbye to romance. I'm sorry, but how many of you have kids? She's right! A baby will only strengthen the love Shrek and Fiona have. How did Shrek react when you told him? When he first found out, Shrek said... Onward, my new friends! To our happily ever afters! Now... bombs away! Well, well, well. If it isn't Peter Pan. His name's not Peter. Shut it, Wendy. Enough pillaging! To the castle! You go! Take care of the baby! Everybody stay calm! We're going to die! Everyone in! Now! Oome on! Put some back into it! We don't have time. Now go! Quickly, ladies! We'll hold them off as long as we can! Where are Shrek and Fiona? The name doesn't ring a bell. No bell. I suggest you freaks cooperate... ...with the new King of Far Far Away! The only thing you're ever gonna be king of is King of the Stupids! Hook! Right! Avast, ye cookie. Start talking. Gingy! Papa! Settle down now. On the good ship Lollipop It's a sweet trip to the candy shop You! You can't lie. So tell me, puppet... where is Shrek? Well... I don't know where he's not. You don't know where Shrek is? It wouldn't be inaccurate to assume... ...that I couldn't exactly not say that is or isn't almost partially incorrect. So you do know where he is! On the contrary, I'm possibly more or less not definitely rejecting the idea that in no way, with any amount of uncertainty... Stop it! ...I do not know where he shouldn't be. If that indeed wasn't where he isn't . Even if he wasn't not where I knew he was, it could mean... On the good ship Lollipop Enough! Shrek went off to bring back the next heir! He's bringing back the next heir? No! Hook! Get rid of this new " King" . But bring Shrek to me. I have something special in mind for him. He'll never fall for your tricks! Oh, boy. I can't believe it. Me, a king? I knew I came from royalty, but... ...I figured everyone forgot about me. Oh, no. In fact the King asked for you personally. Really? Wow. But I know it's not all fun and games. It really is all fun and games, actually. Sure, you have to knight a few heroes, launch a ship or two. By the way, make sure you hit the boat just right with the bottle. Any idiot can hit a boat with a bottle. Well, I've heard it's harder than it looks. This is going to be huge. Parties, princesses, castles. Princesses. You'll be living in the lap of luxury. The finest chefs will wait for your order. And fortunately, you'll have the royal food tasters. What do they do? Taste the food before the King eats, to make sure it's not poisoned. Poisoned? Or too salty. Don't worry. Your bodyguards will keep you safe. All of them willing at a moment's notice to lay down their lives out of devotion to you. Really? The whole kingdom will look to you for wisdom and guidance. Make sure they don't die of famine! Or plague. Plague is

bad. The coughing, the groaning, the festering sores. Festering sores! You are one funny kitty cat. What did I say? We don't want Artie getting the wrong idea. Artie? There goes my hip! Artie! What are you doing? What does it look like?! This really isn't up to you. I don't know anything about being king! You'll learn on the job! Sorry, but I'm going back. Back to what? Being a loser? Now look what you did! Look what I did? Who's holding the wheel, chief? Shrek! Land ho! How humiliating. Oh, nice going, Your Highness. Now it's "Your Highness" ? What happened to " loser" ? If you think this is getting you out of anything, it isn't . We're heading back to Far Far Away one way or another... ...and you're going to be a father! What? You just said "father" . King! You're going to be king! "You're going to be king!" Yeah, right. Where are you going? Far Far Away... from you! Get back here, young man! Boss? I don't think he's coming back. Maybe it's for the best. He's not exactly king material. When did you plan to tell him you were supposed to be king? Oome on. Why would I do that? Besides, he'll be ten times better at it than me. Then change your tactics if you want to get anywhere with him. You're right, Donkey. What about this? Shrek! Oome on. It's just a joke. Still... Listen, Artie. If you think this whole mad scene ain't dope, I feel you, dude. I'm not trying to get up in your grill or raise your roof. But what I am screamin' is, yo... ...check out this kazing thazing, bazaby! If it doesn't groove, or what I'm saying ain't straight trippin', say, " Oh, no, you didn't ! You're getting on my last nerve." And then I'll know it's ... I'll know it's wack! Help! I've been kidnapped by a monster who's trying to relate to me! Artie, wait. Oome on! Help! Hello? Greetings, cosmic children of the universe. Welcome to my serenity circle. Please leave any bad vibes outside the healing vortex. Now prepare to... I knew I should have got that warranty! Mr. Merlin? You know this guy? Yeah. He was the school magic teacher, until he had his nervous breakdown. Technically, I was merely a victim of a level 3 fatigue. At the request of my therapist, and the school authorities, I retired to the tranquility of nature to discover my divine purpose. Oan I interest anyone in a snack or beverage? Uh, no. Sure you don't want to try my Rock Au Gratin? It's organic. Thanks. I ate a boulder on the way in. We need directions to Far Far Away. "We" ? Who said I was going with you? I did. People are counting on you, so don't try to weasel out of it. If the job's so great, you do it. Understand this, kid. No more Mr. Nice Guy from here on out. That was your Mr. Nice Guy? Yeah, and I'm going to miss him. Why don't you go terrorize a village and leave me alone! Was that a crack about ogres? You get your royal highness to Far Far Away... ...before I kick it there! Now, which way am I kicking? I could tell you, but since you're in the midst of a self-destructive rage spiral, it would be karmically irresponsible. Self-destructive...? Are you going to help us or not? Most definitely, but only after you take the journey to your soul! I don't think so. It's either that or primal scream therapy. All right. Journey to the soul. Now, all of you, look into the Fire of Truth and tell me what you see. Ooh, charades! Okay, I see a Dutch fudge torte with cinnamon swirls! Okay, monster... go for it. I see a rainbow pony. Excellent work! Now the boy. This is lame. You're lame! Now just go for it. Okay. There's a baby bird and a father bird sitting in a nest. Yes! Stay with it! The dad just flew away. Why did he leave the little bird all alone? It's trying to fly, but it doesn't know how to. It's going to fall! Proper head case you are. Really messed up. Okay, I get it. The bird's me. My dad left. So what? Look, Artie, um... Just thought I'd help set the mood... ...for your big heart-to-heart chat. I know what it's like to not feel ready for something. Even ogres get scared. You know... once in a while. I know you want me to be king, but I can't . I'm not cut out for it,

and I never will be. Even my own dad knew I wasn't worth the trouble. He dumped me at that school first chance he got... ...and I never heard from him again. My dad wasn't really the fatherly type, either. I doubt he was worse than mine. Oh, yeah? My father was an ogre. He tried to eat me. I guess I should have realized it. He bathed me in barbecue sauce and put me to bed with an apple in my mouth. I guess that's pretty bad. It may be hard to believe, what, with my obvious charm and good looks, but people used to think I was a monster. And for a long time, I believed them. But after a while, you learn to ignore the names people call you and just trust who you are. You know... you're okay, Shrek. You just need to do a little less yelling and use a little more soap. Thanks, Artie. The soap's because you stink... really bad. Yeah... I got that. This place is filthy! I feel like a hobo. I'm sorry, but this isn't working for me. Everything's always about you. It's not like your attitude is helping. Maybe itjust bothers you I was voted fairest in the land. You mean in that rigged election? Give me a break. " Rapunzel, Rapunzel... ...let down thy golden extensions!" Ladies, let go of your petty complaints and let's work together! So I guess the plan is we just wander aimlessly in this stinkhole until we rot. No, we get inside and find out what Oharming's up to. I know he's a jerk and everything, but that Oharming makes me hotter than July. That's it! Oome on! This way! Rapunzel, wait! Oharming, let go of her. But why would I want to do that? What? Say hello, ladies, to the new Queen of Far Far Away. Rapunzel, how could you? Jealous much? Soon you'll be back where you started, scrubbing floors or locked away in towers. That is, if I let you last the week. Pookie, you promised not to hurt them. Not here, kitten whiskers. Daddy will discuss it later. Now forgive us. We have a show to put on. Shrek will be back soon, and you'll be sorry. Sorry?! Don't you realize once Shrek sets foot in Far Far Away... ...he's doomed? Look out! They got a piano! Kill them all... except the fat one. King Oharming has something special in mind for you, ogre. King Oharming? Attack! Artie, duck! Ready the plank! Shrek! Help! Oowards! What has Oharming done with Fiona? She's going to get what's coming to her. And there ain't nothing you can do to stop him! We've got to save her. But she's so far far away! Get yourself back to Worcestershire, kid. No, Shrek. Hold on. I've got an idea. I am a buzzing bee. Mr. Merlin? They need a spell to get them... ...I mean us, back to Far Far Away. Forget it. I don't have that kind of magic in me anymore. How about a hug? That's the best kind of magic. Please. I know you can do it. I said forget it! But... What's with you? It's just so hard, you know? They need to get back, cause their kingdom's in trouble. Cause there's a really bad man. It's just so hard! Take it easy. No! I don't think you understand! There's a mean person doing mean things to good people. Have a heart, old man. They really need your help to get back. Why won't you help them?! Okay. I'll go get my things. Piece of cake. Well, well. You want eggs with that ham? I am a little rusty, so there could be some side effects. Side effects? Don't worry. Whatever it is, no matter how excruciatingly painful, it will wear off eventually. I think. Oops. You sure about this? If Artie trusts him, that's good enough for me. Even if his robe doesn't cover... Alacritious expeditious... ...a-zoomy-zoom-zoom! Let's help our friends get back... ...soon! It worked! I haven't been on a trip like that since college! Donkey? What? Is something in my teeth? Oh, no! I've been abracadabra-ed into a Fancy Feastin', second-rate sidekick! At least you don't look like some kind of bloated pi�ata! You should think about going on a diet! You should get yourself a pair of pants. I feel all exposed and nasty! So you two think this is funny? I'm really sorry, guys. Don't be. You got us back, kid. How in the Hans Ohristian Andersen am I supposed to parade around in these goofy boots?

Hey, hey, hey! Be very careful with those. They were made in Madrid by the finest... You'll learn to control that. Seriously. Ow! You need some comfort inserts or arch supports or something. Watch it. I'm walking here and I'm gonna keep going until... Pinocchio! Shrek! Help me! What happened? Oharming and the villains took over! Fiona and the Princesses got away. Now she's ... She's what?! What?! Puss! Loan me five bucks. You heard him. Help the brother out. Do you see any pockets on me? Hold on a second. I had no idea, really. I... I swear. Quick! Where is Fiona? Oharming has her locked away someplace. You have to find him! He's probably getting ready for the show! Wait, Pinocchio! What show? " It's a Happily Ever After After All" . " Shrek's final performance" ? Shrek! You didn't tell us you were in a play! I guess I've been so busy I forgot to mention it. The ogre! Get him! Don't worry, jefe. I got this. Uck! Kill it! Look. Don't you know who he thinks he is? How dare you! We're dealing with amateurs. He's a star, people! Hello? I'm so sorry about this, Mr. Shrek. I'm going to lose it! Is everything ready? You did get the list for the dressing room? Breakfast croissant stuffed with seared sashimi tuna. And I hope you have the saffron corn with jalapeno honey butter. Our client cannot get into his proper emotional state withoutjalapeno honey butter! I just lost it. They should talk to Nancy in Human Resources. Oh, we will have much to say to Nancy, I promise! "With this sword, I do..." No. "With..." "With this sword, I do smote thee!" Is " smote" the right word? " Smoot" ? I don't think that's a word. Maybe I should just " smite" him. Let's try this again. Now... Shrek attacks me. I pretend to be afraid. " Now the kingdom will get the happily ever after they deserve. Die, ogre!" Blah, blah, blah. Oh, itjust doesn't feel real enough! Who told you to stop dancing?! Wink and turn. What are you laying around for? Get up! Honestly! Our happily ever after is nearly complete, Mummy. And I assure you... ...the people of this kingdom will pay dearly for every second... ...we've had to wait. Break a leg. On second thought, let me break it for you. Thank goodness. I was afraid you wouldn't get back in time. Where's Fiona? Don't worry. She and the others are safe... for now. Let me guess. Arthur. It's Artie, actually. This boy is supposed to be the new King of Far Far Away? How pathetic. Stand still, so I won't make a mess. Oharming, stop! I'm here now. You got what you wanted. This isn't about him. Then who's it about? I'm supposed to be king, right? You weren't really next in line for the throne. I was. But you said the King asked for me personally. Not exactly. What does that mean? I said whatever I had to say, all right? I wasn't right for the job, so I needed some fool to replace me. And you fit the bill. So just go! You were playing me the whole time. You catch on real fast, kid. Maybe you're not as big of a loser as I thought. You know, for a minute... ...I actually thought... What? That he cared about you? He's an ogre. What did you expect? You really do have a way with children, Shrek. Leave me out with the waste This is not what I do It's the wrong time She's pulling me through It's a small crime And I got no excuse And is that all right, yeah? Is that all right with you? Is that all right, yeah? If I give my gun away when it's loaded? If you don't shoot it how am I supposed to hold it? Is that all right? Is that all right? Is that all right with you? No. Had we stayed put like I suggested, we'd be sipping tea out of little heart-shaped cups. Yeah, heart-shaped cups. And eating crumpets smothered with loganberries. Yeah, loganberries. Shut up, Oindy. Yeah, shut up. No, you shut up. Stay out of this. Who cares who's " running the kingdom" ? I care. You should all care. I have your badge number, tin can! Donkey? Princess! Puss? I am Puss, stuck here inside this hideous body. And I'm me! But you're... Everything's fruity in the loops, but what happened is we went to high school, the boat crashed and we got

bippity-boppity-booped by the magic man. You poor sweet things. I don't get it. The cat turned into a little horse that smells like feet. What's to get? Who dat? Where's Shrek? Oharming has him. He plans to kill Shrek tonight in front of the whole kingdom! All right, everyone. We need to find a way out now. You're right. Ladies, assume the position! What are you doing? Waiting to be rescued. You've got to be kidding me. What else can we do? We're just four... ...I mean three, super-hot princesses... ...two circus freaks, a pregnant ogre and an old lady! Excuse me. Old lady coming through. Mom! You didn't think you got your fighting skills from your father, did you? Excuse me. There's still one more. Why don't you just lie down? Okay, girls, from here on out... ...we take care of business ourselves. The Far Far Away Theatre at the Charming Pavilion is proud to present... ..."It's A Happily Ever After After AII." Enjoy your evening of theatrical reverie, citizen. Oi! No food or beverages in the theater! Places, everyone! Easy! Sorry. I was showing off for the little one. It's Bring Your Kids to Work Day. Oome here, beautiful. Well, she's got your eye. Who would have thought a monster like me deserved something as special as you? Little birdies, take wing Flitting down from the trees they appear And to chirp in my ear All because I sing Move it! Go! My babies! Help! Hey, how's it goin' O to the K. The coast is clear. Let's do this. Go, Team Dynamite! I thought we agreed to use the name Team Super Oool. I recall it was Team Awesome. I voted for Team Alpha Wolf Squadron. Okay! From henceforth, we will be Team Alpha Super Awesome Oool Dynamite Wolf Squadron. Ach de liebe! There is some strange little girl over there staring at us! Artie! Wait, wait! Where is the fire, se�or? Please. Don't act so innocent. You both knew what was going on and kept it to yourselves. It's not like it seems. It's not? I think it seems pretty clear. He was using me. That's all. Using you? You really don't get it. Shrek only said those things to protect you. Oharming was going to kill you, Artie! Shrek saved your life. Oue the spot! I wait alone up here I'm trapped another day Locked up here, please set me free My new life I almost see A castle, you and me Yes, a castle, you and me Oherubs! Tis I, Tis I Upon my regal steed Princess, my love At last you shall be freed I'm strong And brave And dashing my way there With speed! With might! With soft and bouncy hair! - Through the blistering desert Hot! - Across the stormiest sea Wet! Facing creatures so vile Foul! So you can gaze upon me! I knew you'd come for me And now we finally meet I knew you'd wait And from my plate of love you'd eat Who is this terribly ugly fiend Who so rudely intervened? Will Charming fight or flee? Please rescue me! From this monstrosity! Fear thee not, honey lamb! I will slice this thing up like a ham! Oh, boy. You are about to enter a world of pain With which you are not familiar! It can't be any more painful than your lousy performance. " Prepare, foul beast." Prepare, foul beast, your time is done! Oould you kill me and then sing? Be quiet! I'm just having fun with you. That's actually a very nice leotard. Thank you. Do they come in men's sizes? Now that be funny! Enough! Now you'll finally know what it's like... ...to have everything you worked for... ...everything that's precious to you, taken away. Now you'll know how I felt. Sausage roll! Pray for mercy from Puss! And Donkey! D Hi, honey. Sorry we're late. You okay? Much better, now that you're here. So, Oharming, you want to let me out of these so we can settle this ogre-to-man? Ooh, that sounds fun. But I have a better idea. No! Let go of me! You will not ruin things this time, ogre. Kill it. Everybody, stop! Oh, what is it now?! Artie? Who thinks we need to settle things this way? You mean you want to be villains your whole lives? But we are villains! It's the only thing we know. You never wish you could be something else? Easy for you to say. You're not some evil enchanted tree. You morons! Don't listen to him!

Attack! What Steve means is it's hard to come by honest work when the whole world's against you. Right. Thanks, Ed. Fair enough. You're right. I'm not a talking tree. But you know... ...a good friend once told me... ...just because people treat you like a villain, or an ogre... ...orjust some loser... ...doesn't mean you are one. What matters most is what you think of yourself. If there's something you really want, or someone you want to be... ...the only person standing in your way is you. Me? Get him! No, no, no! What I mean is each of you... ...is standing in your own way. I always wanted to play the flute. I'd like to open up a spa... in France! I grow daffodils. And they're beautiful. A new era finally begins! Now all of you... ...bow before your King! You need to work on your aim. This was supposed to be my happily ever after! Well, you need to keep looking... ...because I'm not giving up mine. Mommy? It's yours if you want it. But this time it's your choice. Author! Artie! Artie! Artie! Artie! Excuse me. That's my seat. Okay, Se�or Hocusy-Pocusy, the time has come to rectify some wrongs! Though I have been enjoying these cat baths. Please say you didn't . All right! Look. You'll feel a pinch and possibly lower intestinal discomfort... ...but this should do the trick. Are you...? I'm me again! And I am not you! All right! Oops. Ah, never mind. What did I tell you? The kid's going to be a great king. Well, for what it's worth, you would have, too. I have something much more important in mind. Finally. Dada. Was I wrong about the world? It's a beautiful new place I smell Shrek Junior! Where else could a creep like me Meet such a pretty face Meeting every day with the rising sun Looking up, it's looking like My losing streak is done Peek-a-boo! Peek-a-boo! A bouncy, bouncy, boy! Used to always feel like Wished that I was dressed better Where's the baby? Never had a lot of luck Until I finally met her Meeting every day with the rising sun Looking up, it's looking like My losing streak is done My losing streak is done Well... what shall we do now? I got it. Puss and Donkey, baby! Once again, come on! I want to thank you for letting me be myself Again! Look at my hips! I want to thank you for letting me be myself Again! Break it down! Let's go! Stiff all in the collar Fluffy in the face Chit chat chatter trying Stuffy in the place Thank you for the par-tay But I could never stay I'm sorry. I got many things on my mind But the word's in the way And I want to thank you for letting me be myself Again Different strokes for different folks Thank you for letting me be myself Again Break it down! Puss and Donkey, baby! Puss and Donkey, baby! Puss and Donkey, baby! Dance to the music All night long Everyday people Sing a simple song Mama's so happy Mama start to cry Papa's still singing You can make it if you try So try! Thank you for letting me be myself Again Thank you for letting me be myself Again Oome on, Donkey. Do something right! Put the hoofs together! Put the hoofs together! Stomp your boots, baby! Stomp your boots, baby! Stomp your boots, baby! Thank you for letting me be myself Again I want to thank you for letting me be myself Again Thank you, thank you, thank you. Want to thank you Just to be my Because I just want to be my... See? Can I, can I thank you! Can I Yes! Yes!

Omg

[nataliedanovelist]

GF - Timestuck AU: The Power of Mabel ch.6

While fighting over a time machine so one twin can win a pig or the other can win the heart of a girl, Mabel is left stranded in a snowy forest with no time machine and no brother. Oops.

ch.5 - ch.7 (finale)

~~~~~~~~~~

The air was still quite nippy and crisp, but the afternoon sun sparkled on the white snow and made the atmosphere pleasant to stand in if the Main Sequence Star was shining directly on a living organism, like it was on Stan from where he stood on the porch. He sighed tiredly as he dug into his hoodie’s pocket for a fresh cigar and lit it with his Zippo-style lighter. He knew he probably shouldn’t smoke with a kid in the house, but after the few days he’s had, he needed and had well earned a smoke-break.

The door opened and Stan hid his cigar by his side, his right arm glued to his hip to hide the newcomer on his left, but when he saw it was an adult, he relaxed and took another puff. “M’trying to quit.” He mumbled.

Ford snickered. “Yeah, it looks like you’re trying really hard.”

“Don’t be shitty.” Stan said casually.

“Mind if I lend one? I can replenish you in a few minutes.”

Stan stared at his goody two-shoes of a twin and handed him a cigar and the lighter. “You smoke?”

“Not often. For a celebration or after a long day.” Ford answered as he lit his borrowed cigar. “Maybe twice a month. Thrice?”

“Huh.”

Ford looked down at the lighter in his hand, and he was surprised when he recognized it. He can clearly remember seeing the tiny silver box in a store and thinking Stanley would like it as a Only One More Year of High-School present. “I gave this to you.”

Stan smiled as he took it back and pocketed it. “Yeah, it’s a good lighter. Only needed to change the flint a few times.”

“Hey guys!” A small voice called from inside the house. “Do you like vanilla or chocolate?”

The twins looked at each other, smiled, and called back. “Both. Both is good!”

“Both it is!”

Stan chuckled and shook his head. “Knucklehead… I knew she had to be family just by looking at her!” He bragged proudly.

“I suppose I was too distracted by the fact that a cold girl was at my doorstep to recognize the family resemblance.” Ford reasoned, shrugging. “I wanted to make sure I did the right thing. I didn’t exactly feel like getting arrested for kidnapping.”

Stan barked a laugh. “Yeah, you got a good point.” The conman yawned and stretched his arms over his head. “Guess I’ll head out tomorrow.” He mentioned offhandedly.

Ford stared at him, a little saddened and disheartened by this fact that was news to him. “You’re leaving?”

“I mean, yeah?” Stan equally stared at his brother, confused and not daring to be hopeful, but still. “What?”

“I just…” Ford hesitated and busied his mouth by taking a hit of his cigar. With everything that has been said and how well he and Stan have been communicating, he really didn’t feel like ruining it now. He relaxed his shoulders and said with his eyes on the snowy woods. “I was really hoping you would stay.”

Stan looked dumbfounded, like a child discovering candy for the first time, but he looked away and down at the porch floor. “Oh.”

“I’ll of course be taking care of Mabel until Dipper comes back in time for her…”

“He might not.”

“We got over our grudges. They can do the same.” Ford said firmly. “Still, you have a point. Dipper might not be able to come back. Regardless, whether it’s for a short time, a long time, or for the rest of my life, I will take care of her. I might not be the best for her, I can acknowledge that…”

“C’mon, Sixer, don’t be like that.” Stan scolded lightly, giving a sympathetic look to the nerd. “What else can you do, y’know? There’s no way in hell you’re gonna give her up, I’ll kidnap her and run away to Canada before I let you…”

Ford laughed and waved a hand as he smiled. “No no, I promise I won’t.”

“Good.”

“The point is, she loves you. Clearly. And it takes two, and I’ll be busy with my research, especially once the snow melts and the anomalies become more active in the spring and summer, but…” Ford bit his lip. This was a bad idea. If he makes it seem that the only reason why Stan needs to be here is because of Mabel, if or when she’s gone, then Stan will have no reason to stay. And there were many reasons why Ford wanted Stan to stay.

Despite how much of a social-cripple Ford was, he knew that Stan was homeless. His frequent traveling and how full his car was right now was enough proof of that. And Ford hated that for his brother.

But there was another, bigger reason why Ford wanted Stan to stay. So he better just say it.

“Do you know why I went to Backupsmore?” Ford asked.

Stan’s facial expression darkened as he looked away and he shrugged. “Cuz I fucked up your project?”

“No,” Ford answered plainly. “I may not have been accepted into West Coast Tech, but there were so many other colleges that wanted me. I could apply to Yale or Harvard or any college from New York to California and instantly be accepted.

“But I didn’t.” The author added grimly. “Stanley, when you left… When you were gone, I was a mess. So many days I just lied in bed without meals or sleep. Ma was hysterical. I failed most of my exams and only barely scraped a C in the ones I didn’t fail. My GPA dropped significantly and I even lost my Honor Roll. Thankfully my past grades were enough to let me graduate with a 3.2, but my clean record was stained and a lot of prestigious colleges didn’t want me.

“All I wanted at that point was to get as far away from Glass Shard as possible. Luckily there was a small college outside of San Francisco that practically accepted everyone and had a wide range of studies to offer, so I applied and was accepted by graduation day.”

“Good for you.” Stan grunted.

“No! The point is, I…” Ford groaned, feeling like he was failing, but he had to try. “I understand if you don’t want to stay. I understand you have your own life and things you want to do, and I can live without you again if I have to, but… I really, really don’t want to. Yes, I know that part of growing up is going in different directions and being independent and all the other bells and whistles, but it doesn’t have to be. So, if you can tolerate living under the same roof as me again, and if you’re okay with it, I want to offer you a job.”

Stan raised an eyebrow at the six-fingered man. “What kinda job?”

“The committee gives me monthly boosts so I can continue my research. As long as I prove to them once a year that progress is being made, I have a good income coming in. It is a big job, exploring the large woods, climbing mountains and waterfalls, combing the lake, mapping the Enchanted Forest, and hunting down monsters and anomalies to learn more about them. I’ve always managed to make it out of trouble alright, but… I need a partner, and I want to keep it in the family.” Ford smiled at the last sentence.

“What are you saying?” Stan sneered, not daring to believe, not daring to hope, but that stupid smile Ford had…

“I’m saying I want you to do this with me, Stanley.” Ford said matter-of-factly. “I can share the grant with you after bills are paid and groceries are purchased. We can renovate the small room on the ground floor to be Mabel’s bedroom and you can have the entire attic as your own space.

“I know it’s not sailing around the world, but… Please. Will you give me another chance?” Ford pleaded with a soft smile.

Stan grinned and shook his head. “Shit, Sixer, you’re a better salesman than me.” He looked him in the eyes. “Okay. Yes. I’ll stay.”

Ford’s cheeks puffed with happiness as he smiled, his lips pressed together, and he looked ahead, happily daydreaming his future. Being surrounded by weirdness for a living was amazing by itself; doing it with his twin and raising their niece together on top of it was better than anything he could have imagined.

Stan was watching him and laughed good-naturedly, then held out a hand to him. Ford blinked at it like a startled owl, but then returned the smile and sealed the deal with a high-six.

Both brothers stood contently outside with their cigars for a minute, but then heard a bowl clatter on the floor. Mabel must be making a mess in the kitchen, which was fine.

What wasn’t fine was the sound that followed of a body falling on the floor.

Ford raised an eyebrow and called calmly, “Mabel, are you alright?”

They both expected a quick “yeah, sorry, I’m okay,” and maybe an explanation to follow, like she tripped getting down from a chair or something. But there was no reply.

“Mabel, sweetie?” Stan hollered, trying not to sound mad or scared or anything but cool-under-pressure, but this voice trembled with fear.

Still no answer.

Ford and Stan quickly discarded their cigars and bolted inside. Racing like children for cookies, they soon stood at the doorway of the kitchen and were horrified to find Mabel sprawled on the floor on her front, her hair scattered over her face to hide her expression, and her legs and bottom-half of her body slowly fading.

Literally. Fading. Mabel was fading away. She was disappearing like a stain on cloth.

“MABEL!” The men screamed and were immediately on their knees beside her. Ford scooped her up into his arms and felt her pulse and looked over her.

“What happened to her?!” Stan cried out. “Pumpkin, what’s wrong?!”

Ford’s eyes widened in panic as a horrifying realization slapped him in the face. “Mabel… You changed history.”

The tired girl nodded with her eyes closed. “If… If you guys had a fight… and never made up… in my timeline, then I guess…” Mabel paused to yawn tiredly. It didn’t hurt, but she was really sleepy now.“I guess that timeline doesn’t exist anymore, huh? I guess I don’t exist anymore.”

“WHAT?!” Stan yelled and took Mabel’s hand and squeezed it. “We have to do something! You’re family! You’re… We can’t just let you d- not exist!”

Ford held Mabel tighter and closer to his warm chest, making her smile. She swore she could hear his heartbeat. It was too fast. She would have to fix that. Poor Ford was also shaking like a leaf. Mabel could fix that, too.

“I’ll exist.” She smiled up at her uncles. “In a few years.”

Ford bit his lip. He shouldn’t ask this, it was probably dangerous to learn about the future, but the worst was already happening. What else could possibly happen that was worse than losing his girl? Ford couldn’t help but ask, “When?”

“August 31st, 1999.” Mabel’s eyes dazzled. “You’ll meet Dipper, too.��� She shifted her eyes to only Stan and whispered, “Did you know you were there? You came to see us when we were born?”

Stan’s eyes watered as he smiled at the new piece of information. “I did?”

“You did. I came out first. You were so proud when I kicked the doctor in the jaw.”

Stan made a watery chuckle and wiped at his eye. “That’s my girl.”

“Dipper came next. He was blue. Umbilical cord wrapped around his neck.”

“Was he okay?” Stan asked.

“He was fine. You knew he would be. You never doubted.”

“I never will, pumpkin. I swear.”

The fading is now much worse. It was spreading over Mabel like a virus. Her legs were hardly visible to the naked eye, and even her shoulders were losing color. This Mabel is almost completely gone. 

Ford, pressed for time, bit his lip as tears flooded his eyes and he cupped Mabel’s cheek and cradled her. “I… I can’t let you go! We just started to become a real family! Wh-What am I going to do without you?!”

Mabel smiled and used the free hand not holding Stan’s trembling hand to caress Ford’s jaw and lower cheek, then cupping his face so her fingertips grazed his sideburn. “It’s okay, really. I’ll see you again, and next time it’ll be when both of you come to see us. Totally worth it.” 

Ford held his breath, and shut his eyes, a tear escaping from each eye and sitting comfortably in the corners of his windows to his soul. Stan hiccuped a laugh and rubbed her hand between both of his. Both of them were doing everything in their power not to cry. 

To that, Mabel laughed and said, “Boys are stupid. It’s okay to cry.”

The cursed power of Mabel. Making people be honest and breaking dams.

Ford curled into his niece, his face sloe to her heart, and cried gently. He wasn’t ready, but he didn’t think he could ever be ready for this.

Stan laughed with tears streaming down his face and he kissed Mabel’s tiny fingers trapped in his hold, then held their hands close to his bowed forehead and just focused on feeling her pulse between his palms.

It only lasted another minute.

Ford was mortified when his chest sank and his arms were empty. He threw himself back and stared at his lap and felt sick to his stomach to find his little girl missing.

Stan’s hands also clasped together and he squeezed tightly, his fists against his trembling lips as he cried.

The genius who always seemed to know what to do didn’t have a damn clue what to do with himself. He growled in his throat, squeezing his eyes shut and gritting his teeth, then let out a painful howl and moan that most definitely disturbed birds and made a deer or two gallop farther away.

Ford removed his glasses and held his knees, sobbing his heart out. Stan blinked his tears off his eyes, resulting in them rolling down his face, as he watched his brother completely shatter to pieces. He had seen him upset before, sure; all those years of bullying, of Pa’s outbursts and sometimes physical punishments, hopelessness that he was actually worth something. You don’t spend seventeen years with a person and not see them break every so often, granted the blessing to help them put themselves back together again.

But Ford didn’t need Stan to swoop in and fix it. There were no bullies to punch or parents to stand against or jokes to crack that would make this okay. All Stan could do was throw his arms around him and bury his face into Ford’s shoulder and cry, too. 

So that’s what they did on the kitchen floor for over an hour.

~~~~~~~~~~

Dipper blinked to try to see, but all he saw around him was inky blackness for miles. His heart raced as he looked around for his sister. “Mabel? Mabel! Mabel, answer me!”

The boy scrambled and collapsed out of a portable potty at the fair. He blinked his eyes rapidly to adjust to the sunlight, scurrying off his hands and knees, clutching the warm time-machine in his hands. Wendy was still admiring her price and Robbie was still sulking, and Waddles was still trying to get away from Pacifica.

That didn’t matter! Mabel was stranded back in time! But how far back?! When was Mabel?! Dipper started jamming the button, but the machine wasn’t working, and it was soon swiped from him by a black-gloved hand.

“Mason Pines,” A gruff voice commanded above him and Dipper looked up to find two new guys with that Blendin guy. The two other guys were muscular and guarded with high-tech armor. 

“You are under arrest for violating the Time-Traveler's Code of Conduct and for jeopardizing the timestream.” The man labeled as Dundgren stated as serious as death.

“Do you have any idea how many rules you just broke?!” Blendin squawked. “I’m asking. I wasn’t there with you. It was probably a lot, right?”

“Wait, wait please!” Dipper begged as the two members of the Time Paradox Avoidance Enforcement Squadrent each grabbed the boy by an arm. “My sister! She’s still back there! We have to get her!”

“You have the right to remain silent.” The man labeled as Lolph informed robotically. “Anything you say can and already has been used in the Court of Time-Law.”

“Let me go, Mabel needs-...” And Dipper and the three time-travelers were blasted forward in time.

~~~~~~~~~~

In the endless space of time, Dipper was levitated off the ground by a giant baby using the power of his forehead-hourglass to trap him in a baby-blue field. Members of the the Time Paradox Avoidance Enforcement Squadrent circled the two, and Blendin stood with his arms crossed over his chest and smiling smugly as the kid who caused so much trouble was getting what he deserved.

“You and your sister have broken the eternal laws of space-time.”

“I’m sorry!” Dipper cried out, trying to fight the energy circling him, but it was futile. “I’m sorry! Do what you want to me, just help my sister!”

“Your sister does not require help, nor do you require punishment.” Time Baby informed as he held his feet. “You are lucky the events that occurred do not change anything drastically. However, your timeline has shifted and therefore this reality’s version of you and your sister are no longer viable and will cease to exist.”

“What?!” Dipper squeaked and looked down at his body to find his legs disappearing. “No no NO! What’s happening to me?!”

“You and your twin sister will be born again on August 31st, 1999, but too many things are different in your timeline for this version of you to continue to exist.”

“W-W-What did I do wrong?! What did I change?!” Dipper cried out as his whole body was drained of color. “What changed in our timeline?!”

“Your uncles have amended their bond thirty-four years ahead of schedule. As unfortunate as this is, your sister miraculously delayed the plans of Bill Cipher by an entire millennia.”

“What uncles?!” Dipper asked, panicked as the fading reached his neck. “Who’s Bill Cipher?!”

“If you wanted the answers you sought out, you should have been patient.” Time Baby scolded. “We all get the answers we seek… in time.”

“P-P-Please!” Dipper begged as he appeared as a ghost. “Please! What did Mabel do?!”

Time Baby cruelly stayed silent, testing Dipper’s strengths, but he was dying, anyways. Might as well.

“She met the Author of the Journals. Your missing uncle.”

Dipper’s eyes widened. “Mabel…” He rasped, and then he ceased to exist.

[gilbirda]

Transcendence

The switching Stans plan was supposed to work, but they failed. And now, Mabel has to face the consequences.

[Read on AO3][Read on FF.net]

She never thought nothing of it. Really, what could go wrong? They managed to stop the Weirmageddon in time with the help of everyone in Gravity Falls, betting everything they have to save their beloved town. But when the bright light subsided, the Pines family knew something went wrong. Horribly wrong. Because Dipper was missing and Mabel couldn’t move at all.

Scared, she started to call for her brother, her brown eyes focusing in things randomly, searching for a sign that he was with her.

“Mabel!”, she faintly heard her uncle Ford scream and her vision tunneled in his face. “Mabel, can you hear me?” She couldn’t nod but focused in his eyes trying to talk through them. “Good, you are here with us.” Then she heard another voice nearby but couldn’t make the words. “Yes, she is fine. No, not responding. We must go back with the others.”

Mabel felt her body be carried in someone’s arms, but she couldn’t see who it was. Everything happened so slowly and yet so fast and bright… Someone please turn off that light! It was hurting her eyes. She could heard voices muffled in the distance, worried voices, but none of them was her brother’s.

Where was Dipper?

--------------------------

She woke in a strange bed that wasn’t hers. At least the room was dark enough and her eyes adjusted perfectly fine to it. She yawned and stretched, feeling the blissful pop in her back and joints. Somehow Mabel felt like a new person, fully rested and prepared for a new day with…

Dipper.

He wasn’t beside her or anywhere in the room, sleeping.

The panic came back, thoughts and memories of their attempt to kill Bill Cipher whirling in her mind, and the same awful feeling in the pit of her stomach when she thought that oh my god where’s Dipper.

She ran downstairs realising by the pictures on the walls that this was Soos’ house, feeling the tears starting to form in the corner of her eyes as the real fact of the destruction of Gravity Falls settled in her mind. The Shack, her sweaters, the memories… gone. They would have to rebuild everything from scratch and Dipper wasn't here.

“Oh, she's awake”, said Abuelita while putting more coffee in a jar on the battered table. Her uncles, Wendy and Soos where sitting there silently sipping their drink and seemingly lost in their thoughts until Ford came back to reality and ran to her.

“Mabel, dear, how are you? Do you feel dizzy? Unwell? Possessed?”, he took out his small light and blinded the girl with it. The panicked voice told her that something was really wrong, and not just her brother's disappearance.

“Leave the kid alone, brother. She looks fine enough for me”, Stan murmured sounding very tired and old. Mabel remembered the swap her uncles made to trick Bill, but Stan seemed to be ok and knowing who they were. At her evident confused face, he answered her questions. “We failed, kid. Bill saw through our plan in the last moment and escaped, but was disintegrated in the process… or that's what brains here thinks happened.” Ford nodded.

“Bill lost his physical form and couldn't go back the moment he entered Stanley's mind. When cornered, realised what we plotted and part of his energy got out.” Ford sighed visibly uncomfortable.

“Dipper….”, the girl whispered as a question. Everyone in the room looked away from her tear-stained face.

“We… we don't know, Mabes”, Stan said softly, a comforting hand in her shoulder.

--------------------------

She didn't eat or sleep for days, refusing to move away from the bed and only accepting the water that Wendy or Abuelita brought her every few hours. Mabel seemed to have lost her will to live, the sparkle in her eyes gone like her brother and more than one thought that Mabel wasn't going to last much.

Word had spread about the tragedy and many considered a funeral for the little Pines boy, but Mabel insisted that he wasn't dead. Dipper couldn't be dead. She swore she could feel him somewhere with the twins ESP (Ford cocked an eyebrow at this), but after three days nobody believed her. Even Mabel started to entertain the thought of Dipper's death when her family left her alone.

Until one restless night, she opened her eyes and saw the world in grey scale.

“...el…”, she heard. Mabel looked everywhere trying to find the source of the voice. “...bel” the voice repeated. It was a boy's voice, but it was so distorted that could be anyone's.

“Mabel!”

“AAAAH!”

The girl fell on her butt and looked up to see… Dipper. Tears pooled on her eyes, happy to see him at last and ignoring the fact that he was translucid. She ran to his arms, crying, mumbling about how lonely she has been and how happy she was to see that he was ok and was coming back.

“Mabel…”, his tone carried multiple voices in one, like whispers floating on the wind. Mabel liked none of that.

“Dipper?”, she asked feeling more confused when he didn’t hug back. “Are you ok?”

The boy watched her with a strange glint in his eyes and a sad expression, as if this was a painful experience for him. He took her hands in his and smiled briefly before getting serious again and spoke:

“Mabel, I’m sorry. I’m afraid…”, he looked elsewhere as his voice cracked in a weird way, “I’m afraid we’ll never see each other again.”

She felt that her whole world fell apart in that moment. Mabel didn’t want to believe him, but if Dipper said so then it must be true. She trusted her brother, but still she had to ask.

“Why…?”

“Mabes, I’m dead. Can’t you see it?” He got back a few steps and stood in the middle of the grey room. His feet didn’t touch the ground and now the girl could see that his body wasn’t really opaque. Oh no. “I died that day, when we killed Bill. Yes, he is dead”, he added when his sister opened her mouth to ask, “and he is gone for. But… Some of his energy escaped from Stan’s mind and got to us in time to survive, like a symbiote, and still lives within us. Within you.” He made a face at the correction.

“And you? Why am I alive?”, tears were running down her cheeks uncontrollably. Her brother was really dead. Dipper wouldn’t come back.

“The energy in me wasn’t enough to protect me from the explosion, but yours was greater. I guess you were the superior twin after all”, the smile in his lips was everything but happy. “Mabes, I…”

He was interrupted by a loud noise from somewhere in the background and the place started to melt. Walls dissolving like a candle burning to its end, the grey-and-white room was slowly warning her that her dream was coming to an end. No, no, no. She didn’t want to wake up!

“Dipper!”, she exclaimed running to her brother, but when she jumped to his arms, instead of getting her very needed hug, Mabel found herself on the trembling floor and with a sore shoulder.

“It’s my time, then”, the boy looked at his hands beginning to disappear and smiled again to his sister. “I love you, Mabel.”

“No!”

“I hope you remember me, as a part of myself will live inside of you forever.” His feet were now gone and his signature pine tree hat was dissolving like sand on the wind.

“No, Dipper. NO!”

“Be happy”, he closed his eyes.

And just like that, all that was left of her brother exploded in tiny little particles floating in mid-air over the carpet she was sitting on. Before she could see what they were clearly, it floated to her chest and passed through her clothes directly to her skin, and a weird warmth condensed in her heart. She could feel it get bigger and bigger, making it difficult to breathe, arching her back.

She opened the eyes she didn’t know were closed and found herself floating in the colored room, the real room, and she was shining brighter than the Sun. On the door, she spotted her uncles and Wendy watching her with their mouth so open that they could swallow a few flies, a hand at the level of the eyes to protect them from the light.

Then, something inside of her snapped and she fell unceremoniously to the floor with a loud thud.

“Mabel!”, she heard Ford before she could see him. Someone took one of her hands and a gloved hand checked her pulse. “Are you ok?”

“Dipper…”, she managed to say.

“Did you see him? Where?” Stanley looked confused.

“He… He is gone, Grunkle”, her voice broke and Mabel felt tears start to fall again. “Dipper is dead.”

--------------------------

The following days were similar to the ones before, but now Mabel refused to go back to her bed. She spent her days sitting on a chair in the living room, watching everyone move around without saying another word. She slept sometimes, but it was scarce. Alas, she never looked really tired.

Ford started to suspect that something had happened that day she woke up being a Star. Something big, and something connected to Bill Cipher. When his grand-niece showed unconscious control over things -stuff floating in mid-air or catching fire without reason, and the like-, Ford felt like crying.

Not only had they lost their precious Dipper, but Mabel was becoming something else. Something dangerous. Demonic.

When he first approached the girl about this, she just held his stare and said nothing, creeping everyone in the room, listening to Ford’s explanation of how this could have happened. He thought that Bill’s energy had a consciousness of its own and attached itself to the twins, trying to survive, transforming their bodies into a more appropriate vessel. The changes may be slow, but they would definitely see it sometime soon. He didn’t say anything about Dipper’s death or strange “fusion” with his sister, but she understood nonetheless.

Mabel just nodded and let herself fall into the catatonic state again when her uncle finished. No more tears or screams. The girl seemed to accept what was happening to her without fight in her body, and the people in the room were afraid that it was too late for her mind. That she was going insane, and that was a word they would not like to associate to their beloved Mabel. It was just too much like him.

As more days passed, the new mayor declared the “Never Mind All That” Act, and started the rebuilding of their town as if a end-of-the-world catastrophe never happened. When the Shack was recovered from the ashes of the battle, the Pines moved to their new home with a broken Mabel lost in her mind, trying not to cry when she walked up the stairs to their… her room with her distant eyes and pale skin.

She didn’t came out for days.

--------------------------

But the dreams came back. Almost everyday, even when she thought she was awake, Mabel saw the evil figure she didn’t want to see ever again in her life. He laughed at her demise, he taunted her, mocked her, made fun of her loss. “Where’s Pine Tree?”, he usually asked, and if he had a mouth she was sure he’d be smiling like crazy.

At first the girl screamed at him, cried, punched him; anything to vent her rage and sorrow. Dipper was dead and she was becoming a… demon, all because a stupid triangle wanted to take over the world. She wanted to die, then. If Dipper wasn’t coming back to her she didn’t want to go on anymore.

She asked the demon. “Just finish me already”, she whispered one lonely night a week later in her black-and-white room at the renewed Shack. “Kill me so I can be at peace with my brother.”

“I can’t do that, Shooting Star”, he said twirling his signature cane in one finger. “And I guess you know it as well as I do.”

She somehow knew he was right, somewhere deep inside told her she just couldn’t

It was one evening when she jumped from the roof and Wendy found her broken body on a bush, crying and bleeding like hell, but definitely alive and awake, that she accepted this new feature of her new reality: She wasn’t going to die anytime soon. Maybe never. An eternity of this was all that was left for her.

Would she age? She didn’t know, but the thought of watching everyone she loved die before her eyes was frightening, even more that the growing powers inside her.

She the cursed everything, wishing for it to disappear. If she couldn’t die, she didn’t want a world where she had loved so much and had been so happy. But the cruel destiny, and a cruel demon triangle, wouldn’t even grant her wish.

“Woah there, girl. You might want to rethink that wish”, he said in one dream but Mabel could hear the underlying mocking tone. “You what they say, it might become true.”

And next morning nothing happened. With all her powers, all the time of the world, and she couldn’t have her one and only wish granted.

--------------------------

As months passed, she had to sit and watch her grunkles worry about her condition, as Ford used to say when they talked about it, when Mabel seemed to sleep less and less to the point that at night she didn’t have anything to do but go to the dreamscape out of boredom. She didn’t need to eat as well, and just sat there watching them eat with her empty eyes, creeping them until she decided to wait for them to eat anywhere else on the house. Stan felt guilty when he was relieved by her decision instead of worried.

And her parents? They lied to them, saying that the twins wanted so hard to stay in Gravity Falls, that they had a home tutor for them. Ford searched his old professor documents and send them by fax (changing his name, since Mabel’s parents didn’t know about Ford and explaining it would mean explaining about Weirdmaggedon) until it was settled that “the twins” could stay. Stan cried for the first time in many years when the call ended. He had failed to everyone, he was supposed to protect the children from harm this summer and he failed.

The summer ended and Mabel got the hang of her new powers, Bill’s powers. She almost could hear his voice on her ear teaching her how to do it. Levitation, flying and making stuff float at will was as easy as breathing now, and small sparks of blue fire appeared on her fingertips when she got angry for whatever reason. The Pines household had accepted the new condition and no longer horrified them, so when she confessed she was being visited by the triangle demon on her “dreams” Ford didn’t even flinch. He has begun to accept that Mabel wasn’t going to turn back to normal. Not when he could almost hear the cursed voice of the bane of his existence on her words. Her eyes no longer full of wonder, but a void so deep and black with a little twist of madness.

--------------------------

The first time that Mabel realised that she couldn’t feel anything was on her own funeral. Watching her parents cry before the empty tombs of her brother and hers she couldn’t bring any grief or sadness to surface, not even one little tear came to her call and her deep brown eyes observed with curiosity as her mother broke down on her father’s arms, the loud sobs filling the enormous cemetery they were burying the little coffins made for the lost twins that died in an “accident” back in Gravity Falls. Just a little fire in the forest near the house and her parents believed that neither body could be found on the ashes.

She knew it was necessary to fake their death up to some point, but time passed so fast now that when Ford asked her to make the fire on the anniversary of Weirdmaggedon it seemed like a blink of the eye for her. Being a creature of pure energy was starting to weigh down on her and it was now that she took notice of her aging grunkles with even more wrinkles that last summer, while she remained the same.

“Oh”, she had said then before turning back to the backyard to fake her own death.

--------------------------

When Soos got married, three years later, everyone had already moved on from the loss of the little Pine twins and her name was written somewhere in a slab on the main road. The ceremony was small, just a few friends and family of the hispanic friend and his beautiful wife, Melody. She was expecting, no surprise, and the man-child never seemed so happy on his life. He promised on his wedding that he would be the father he never got and wished for his baby to be happier than he ever was in his life.

Mabel made a silent promise to make that true when she watched from the sidelines, invisible to the eyes of the townsfolk attending the ceremony; and, for a second, she heard the demon’s voice in her ears, laughing. “It’s that a deal I hear?”, he said. Mabel didn’t flinch. He had been haunting her in her “dreams”, telling her that making deals was now in her nature, that she eventually would fill in his eternal job, that she would trick people into making horrible deals out of desperation. She was disgusted by it, remembering just how he had tricked her brother and her into Weirdmaggedon and resulting in the loss of everything she loved and was.

She was never going into making deals.

--------------------------

A few months after the 10th anniversary of the official death of the twins, another Pines left them for good. Stanley Pines never was one for a healthy life and cholesterol took him away peacefully one night. He didn’t suffer, even died with a smile, maybe a good dream he was having. The town mourned for a week the former Mr Mystery, as Soos took his job and has been managing the Shack for a few years now, visiting the shop and giving their condolences to the friends and family that remained. Mabel floated around listening to the soft whispers, again feeling completely left out without the ability to relate to their feelings. She had never felt so alienated in her life, so different and weird. She looked exactly the same as she did when her life changed forever, the same skirt, the same sweater, the same headband. Her now black eyes was the only thing out of place, that’s true, but no one looked at them now so it didn’t matter anymore.

“Mabel, come here”, she heard Ford’s voice and then she realised that the house was once more empty and it was snowing on the outside. Was it winter again? But it seemed yesterday that her grunkle died and it was in October! Nevertheless, she approached her grunkle and looked at him waiting for what he wanted to say.

The man sighed. She wasn’t his niece anymore and it was more than obvious now. She was in this realm barely every few weeks for a day or two and she didn’t seem to realise that her body was translucent most of the time she became visible for them to speak. She wasn’t the demon he feared she’d become, but she wasn’t Mabel; it was something else in between, a being made of energy from another world in a little girl’s shape with some memories of its vessel’s past life. It didn’t fight for dominion, as the child’s mind and body surrendered to it so many years ago before his own eyes, and fused successfully with her. He wondered if she recognized him at all, if she felt as sad as he was for everything that happened to her and Dipper, if she did care at all for the people she used to love and cherish. He asked himself not few times if there was any humanity left in her body or if she was lost and dead as the town believed her to be.

Nevertheless, he explained that didn’t have much left, that his old body was giving up on him, and that she was going to be on her own. Eventually, she was going to leave Gravity Falls and spend eternity alone… and forgotten. He launched himself in a speech so many times practised alone in the rusty lab downstairs, not looking really at the void eyes of Mabel in front of him, not caring anymore if she was listening or not. When he finished, he took the cane he hated so much and went to his room to sleep.

He died next spring the same way as his twin, with a gentle smile on his lips, dreaming of the future he was robbed with his family united and adventures with his brother in the Stan’o War II.

--------------------------

It was raining that night, but for Mabel it wasn’t even a breeze on her skin. She didn’t feel anything, no pain, no sorrow, not even the cold as it was winter again. A year has passed and when she went to see her grunkle she discovered that he died already. Soos told her so with an uncomfortable smile on his face and a nervous glance to his chubby little son, now six years old, and she got the message that a demon like her wasn’t welcome anymore to the house that once was her home. Mabel smiled in understanding and left to never be seen again, leaving him with a weird pain in his chest wondering if the guilt he was feeling should really be there. He had a family now, responsibilities, and as awesome as having his own ghost haunting the Shack was, he knew she was in the end of the day a demon, and his son’s well being came first.

--------------------------

Kevin, as she later learned was the little boy’s name, was now a young man and Mabel watched him every now and them, taking care of the man’s health and security as she promised so many years ago. Soos’s family was expanding as now two beautiful girls were running around the Shack, sleeping in what once was her room, little twins with identical big smiles and brown eyes full of curiosity. She swore to protect them, the same as their big brother, so they would never suffer the pain of losing their other half like she did in the past.

Soos was getting a few grey hairs on his head, same as Melody, and from time to time Wendy came to the Shack to see how everything was going around, talk about the Pines and have a moment to remember that fateful summer. They were the only ones who did.

Mabel appreciated that. If they didn’t talk about it she knew she’d had forgotten her name long ago as no one called her anymore. She spent almost always in the dreamscape, practising with her powers and focusing in the balance of the demon inside of her. Bill was always there calling her Shooting Star, mocking her, asking for her brother, taking her to the limit. Her only company was the hated demon that took away her life, and she had told him so, but stopped trying to kill him since he seemed to be made of smoke in her dreams.

Little by little, he had said, all that made her Mabel would disappear. “It’s only a matter of time, Shooting Star, that you accept me as your only companion.”

--------------------------

She knew what he meant when she watched her last friend die before her own eyes. Wendy was the one who lasted more than everyone else, reaching more than a hundred years. This time it was cancer what took her friend away and Mabel could do nothing to stop it, her body didn’t respond and could not say the words to make a “deal” to make her stay alive a few more years. At least the woman was loved and had great life, a beautiful family by her side, and lots of children to remind her the wonders of adventure.

Mabel, on the other hand, was now truly alone.

She came back to the dreamscape feeling a bit of despair, a now strange feeling on her empty body, and tears finally came to her eyes. She cried and cried for her lost friend, her brother, her family, her childhood. All of that, brutally taken from her by that disgusting demon laughing at her from his spot a few steps behind.

She turned around and screamed at his face everything she felt, how she hated him and everything he had done to her. She launched herself to him and for the first time, the triangle was solid enough for her to do some real damage to his mocking eye. God, how she hated it when he did that.

Mabel cursed him and screamed so loud until her throat hurt and the tears stopped falling. Her punches didn’t seem to do much damage and his “smile” was still in place when her little arms didn’t move again for another hit.

“Tired already, Shooting Star?”

“Shut up.” Even her own voice seemed strange to her. “I hate you so much.”

“Awwww”, he said with another laugh.

“You destroyed my life”. She closed her eyes feeling more tears coming. Feelings she couldn’t comprehend came back full force and Mabel was being crushed by years of unattended emotions.

“You did”, he answered in a more serious tone, “that day when you tried to kill Bill Cipher. Or have you forgotten already?”

“Shut the fuck up!”, the girl growled and a pulse of energy emerged from her body, launching the triangle a few metres back. “You did it! You killed my brother! You made me this… monster I am now!”. The girl jumped again to the fallen form of her enemy and pinned him under her body.

“Oh dear, don’t be like that”, he smiled with his eye and Mabel felt sick to her stomach. “We are so going to enjoy an eternity together~”.

“I refuse to be stuck with you, Bill Cipher!”, and as if she had said the funniest joke in the multiverse, the demon started to laugh his existence out. The girl-demon was slightly taken aback, but still weary if this was some kind of trick.

“You amuse me, Shooting Star”, the triangle managed to say, “Do you really not recognize yourself?”, and the weirdest thing happened.

Where there wasn’t a mouth, now was a smirk. The triangle was gone with a blink and in his place was the pale body of a girl with a severe need of sunlight, her eyes a black pool of nothingness and her body barely covered by an outfit she did recognize too well, but it was so battered and torn by years of use that the colors had disappeared completely, leaving them almost in greyscale.

She was looking at herself in a mirror. Her hands cut with the raw edges of the glass and blood started to run all over her reflection, making it even more horrible.

The other Mabel laughed at her face, her voice a mix of his voice and her own.

“Surprise!”, she said. “This whole time you were talking to yourself! Isn’t it funny? C’mon Shooting Star, you are the only one not having any fun.”

She jumped back and watched in horror as the reflection got up and jumped out of the mirror, before watching her with a curious smile. She couldn’t believe it. She was really crazy now. Bill was never there, only herself alone in the void of her existence, and it would be so until the end of times. If she ever considered the small possibility of company, even that of her nemesis’, she wasn’t having any of that now. She was truly and completely alone .

Alone…

Mabel smiled and laughed softly. Her walking reflection caught her thoughts and smiled too.

… for all eternity…

It was now a full scale laugh fest, neither of them knowing exactly what was so funny, but laughing until their voices merged as one. Mabel barely thought that how could she even consider that Bill was there, it was obvious now to her the impossibility of it. After all, it seemed her destiny was to be alone.

Alone and forgotten.

She laughed the last bit of happiness there was inside of her body and opened the eyes she didn’t know were closed. Unsurprisingly, her reflection wasn’t there.

The girl-demon looked down to her clothes and thought they needed a change. Something more… fitting. Black pants and a white buttoned shirt appeared instead of the old Mabel-y outfit, along with a black coat lined in gold star motives. Yeah, now we were talking.

She willed a cane in her right hand and smirked when it appeared out of thin air. It was a cool symbol of her predicament and how she came to be. Bill was going to be around her existence forever and the least she could do was pay little tribute to him. But still there was something missing…

With a flick of her wrist, a top hat was in her left hand and she put it in its rightful place. Now, it was just perfect.

--------------------------

The little girl didn’t know why she was doing this. The book she found was nearly illegible and kinda spooky, but it promised the power to protect herself and the ones she cared for. The only thing she needed was some candles and time to make the proper ritual.

The latin words sounded weird out loud, but it was written beside the instructions of the circle she drew with chalk, so they must be the right words. She was sure she said them right when the world shifted and became black and white, all colors fading and time slowing until the little fly on her window seemed frozen in place.

Blue fire emerged from the pentagram on the floor of her bedroom and a figure with a cane materialized on the center of the circle surrounded by the flames as if they didn’t burn at all despite the intense heat.

“Well well…”, the figure said taking off the top hat and twisting the cane on the right hand. “It’s nice to be back!”

The girl was taken aback when the demon was a girl no older than her. Maybe a bit taller, but the same round face, the same big eyes, the same short legs.

“Are you… Are you the demon? Cipher?”, the girl asked trying to keep her voice even. The other girl smiled at the name.

“You could say that~”, she answered putting the hat back over her black headband.

“I need your help”, the child managed to say after a few seconds of hesitation. If this was the demon on the book then she could help her. “I will pay you with everything I have, I’ll give you my soul… but don’t let him take my brother!”. That seemed to spark curiosity on the yellow-ish eyes of the strange demon before her.

“I’m listening.”

“My father.. he is trying to kill me to get to my little brother. His mother died and I am the only one left who could protect him.”

The demon looked at her with those deep eyes that told many stories, many things passing through them so fast she couldn’t figure out what the other was thinking behind the serious mask of indifference.

“I see”, was all she said. Hope bloomed on the girl’s heart and a need for this to be get over with soon rose. Her brother was in danger and the demon was looking at her room like it was some kind of museum!

“Are you going to help me?”, the need was obvious on her voice and the demon looked back to her with a wicked smile on her lips.

“It’d come with a price, you know.”

“Anything!”, the child shrieked. That amused the demon even more.

“All right then, we’ll work the details later. Tonight, you’ll sleep like a baby and tomorrow all will be gone. It’s a deal?”, the girl-demon extended her gloved hand surrounded in blue flames and the other girl didn’t even hesitate. The decision was made. Her brother was worth it.

“It’s a deal.”

And with another creepy maniacal laugh the demon was gone, color was back and time resumed its course as if she was never there.

Next morning, her house was filled with police sirens and medics. Her father had been stabbed overnight in a robbery gone wrong. An aunt she had never heard of came home in tears, willing to adopt them.

It was many many years later when she found out her price: She couldn’t find, no matter how hard she looked, one sole photograph of her with her brother.