#oh and yes one of bill's sleeves will be the sleeve of ford's sweater

[villiun-wips]

BLOOD/GORE WARNING‼️

HUMAN BILL CIPHER DESIGN WIP :0

Bonus crappy Ford Sketch

[orangeoctopi7]

A Time for Every Purpose

: Part 1 : Part 2 :

Mabel stormed up the stairs, tears streaming down her face. It seemed like every time she tried to take her mind off her troubles, every time she tried to cheer up, something came along and made things more complicated. Had it really only been two days ago that she’d been excited about turning 13 and planning their birthday party? Now she had much bigger concerns, like Bill threatening her family, and Ford extending the apprenticeship offer to Dipper and her.

What with the tears in her eyes and the thoughts swirling around in her head, Mabel didn’t see her brother coming, and collided with him as she scurried up the stairs.

“Oh, Mabel, have you seen Great Uncle Ford this morning? I need to ask him…” Dipper trailed off when he realized his sister was trying to hold back tears. “What’s wrong? Did Bill come back? Is someone hurt!?”

Mabel shook her head, wiping her face on the sleeve of her pajama shirt she still hadn’t changed out of.

“I did see Grunkle Ford this morning. He told me I could stay in Gravity Falls too, if I wanted.”

Dipper’s face lit up. Sure, he’d have to completely redo his pros and cons list now, but this took care of the biggest negative on it! “That’s great!” But then he remembered she’d come up here in tears. “...isn’t it?”

“No!” Mabel cried, trying not to break down again. “Now I have to choose between staying here with you in Gravity Falls or going home to mom and dad!”

“Well, now you know how I feel.” Dipper pointed out. “Isn’t this what you wanted, though? This way you don’t have to leave Gravity Falls behind. You get more time with your friends, a little more summer.”

“Maybe. I dunno.” Mabel sighed and sat down on the steps, very close to pulling herself back into sweater town. “That was mostly just wistful thinking because I was afraid that everything was gonna change. I didn’t think it would actually become reality!”

“Hey, I get it. This is a really big, scary decision.” Dipper sat down beside her. “But you don’t have to make it alone. I can help you make a Pros and Cons list if you want.”

Mabel turned to look at her brother. “Dipper, I know last night you said we had to talk about this when we were calm and not super emotional, but I don’t know if I’m ever gonna not be super emotional about this whole mess!”

“Well, maybe making a list will help.”

The colorful girl scrunched up her face. List making was more her brother’s thing, but maybe it would help for her to get on his level for a bit.

“Ok. As long as I get to use glitter gel pens to write it.”

* * *

Stanford stood in the empty kitchen, the phone in his hand blaring a dull dial tone now that Debbs had hung up. It slipped out of his hand and bounced against the counter door on its curly cord. The old inventor was reeling. What had just happened? True, he probably should have anticipated at least a little apprehension from the kids’ mother, but surely, after explaining the advantages and benefits of his apprenticeship, any parent would have been happy to give their children the opportunity to learn at the feet of an accomplished scientist? And not just any scientist, but a family member who loved and cared dearly for those kids! Instead, she’d acted like he was threatening to kidnap them!

Oh you fool, you’ve done it again. The negative part of Ford’s brain chided him.

The old researcher pushed the thought to the back of his mind, instead trying to justify his own reasoning. It was a pattern he’d seen again and again throughout his life. People left. It always happened sooner or later. Sometimes because they found someone or something more important. Sometimes because they realized the relationship was bad for them. Whatever the case, the outcome was always the same. Deborah was simply trying to delay the inevitable. 

“Sooner or later”, yes, and you’re asking the children to leave too soon. That’s what Stanley was trying to tell you, but of course you didn’t listen. 

“No. No, I’m not the one being unreasonable here…” He muttered to himself.

Wasn’t he? Stan, Mabel, Debbs, they’d all acted as though Ford’s desire to keep the children here was wrong. Even Dipper had been unsure about it. 

But you wouldn’t listen to any of them. You’ve only ever hear what you want to hear. Just like with Fiddleford, just like with Bill!

Perhaps the pattern of people leaving didn’t apply to everyone. Only to him.

“What is wrong with me?” He groaned as he slid down to sit on the floor.

What’s wrong with you? You’re disgusting! Of course no one wants you! The freakish hands are only the tip of the iceberg. You push away anyone with the misfortune to actually get close enough to care about you, but not without doing some serious damage first. Because you don’t understand people and their emotions and relationships. You don’t even understand your own species.

Ford dug his fingers into his hair and closed his eyes tight, trying to steady his breathing. It was true! That was why he’d felt so at home in Gravity Falls, studying supernatural beings. That was how he’d survived thirty years in the multiverse, hopping from one alien society to the next. 

The only ones who’ve ever really wanted you just wanted to use you. Bill, the Dean at Backupsmore, your father… Stan…

Stan… Ford wasn’t sure if he believed that anymore. Surely his brother wouldn’t have spent thirty years trying to fix the portal just to use Ford.

No, he was just fine using your identity to make a cozy little life for himself in Gravity Falls while you were gone.

That just raised further questions, though. Stan had a stable life here. He had to have known Ford’s return would mean giving up the identity he’d been living under for thirty years. Even if Stan hadn’t expected his brother to insist he shut his phony business down, he at least had to have known his livelihood would be endangered. Wouldn’t it have been easier not to risk it all and just leave Ford to his fate? The only possible explanation was that Stan cared enough, or at least felt guilty enough, to motivate him to continue trying for thirty years.

Still, as noble as Stan’s intentions may have been, he still put the whole world, no, the whole universe, in danger by reactivating the portal. How could he have ever expected Ford to be ok with that?

A small part of Ford couldn’t help but wonder if he would have done the same, had their roles been reversed. 

Then of course, there was Stan’s horrible timing. Ford had been this close to destroying Bill, to finally fixing his mistakes, when he was whisked back to Gravity Falls. It seemed like every time Ford got close to making a decisive strike against Bill, something went wrong. He only had himself to blame for the glue situation, but if Stan hadn’t...

It wasn’t like he had known.

He still shouldn’t have done it. It was far too dangerous.

If Stan hadn’t brought him back, he never would have met Dipper and Mabel.

Stan had put the children in danger on top of everything else.

If it hadn’t happened when it did, Ford would have died trying to take Bill down with him.

Ford had known the risks and had been prepared to make whatever sacrifice was necessary to bring Bill down. Stan had ruined his chance… hadn’t he?

You heard what Bill said. He hates you. Why can’t you just hate him back?

Bill always lies. 

There was an abundance of evidence that Stan didn’t hate him. That he actually cared quite a lot.

Ford curled in on himself, the warring thoughts swirling in his head blocking out the rest of the world around him. He didn’t hear his brother coming until the old conman appeared in the doorway, eyes blazing with fury.

“Ford!” Stan shouted, his voice charged with anger.

He hates you.

Ford’s fight or flight instincts took over, and this time they favored flight. He had to get out of there. He darted out of the room as fast as he could.

* * *

Dipper was glad that Mabel had accepted his help to put together her own Pros and Cons list. Not only was it helping him redo his list, she also came up with several negative points he hadn’t considered, like the fact that he’d be leaving behind his friends back at Piedmont Junior High. While Mabel definitely had more friends at school, there were still a couple of classmates that Dipper would consider his friends, although he wasn’t nearly as close with them as he had become with Soos and Wendy. 

Besides, he did kinda feel like he’d been neglecting Mabel over the past couple of days. He was just trying to figure all of this out, the rift, Ford’s apprenticeship, and Bill. Trying to comfort Mabel on top of all that just seemed like too much. Once he had the time to sit down and organize his thoughts, to really think things out, it became much less overwhelming. He trusted his Great Uncle to deal with the rift and Bill for now, and he was figuring out the apprenticeship thing.

It was interesting to see Mabel’s thought process as she put together her own list. She liked Dipper’s point value system, but they both scored the same things very differently. She thought getting to explore the caves behind the falls was only worth three points, tops, and she classified continuing to work at the Mystery Shack as a pro, not a con. 

Dipper decided not to share his doubts on whether Ford would allow Stan to continue running the Shack out of his home. Mabel already had enough on her mind.

"So, once you finish your list, you add up the points on both sides and whichever has the most points wins." Dipper explained.

"How do you know when it's finished?"

Dipper shrugged. “Just… whenever you can’t think of any more pros or cons, I guess.”

“But what if I forget something important?”

“Well, I mean, it can’t be that important if you forgot it.” 

Mabel sighed and started adding up her totals. Dipper did the same. Pros won out on both lists, although Mabel’s was by a slimmer margin. The boy laughed excitedly and beamed at his sister. She gulped. Despite what the numbers said, this still didn’t sit right with her.

“So we’ll both stay in Gravity Falls, together!” Dipper exclaimed. “I can’t believe it, this is like a dream come true!”

Mabel gasped. “Wait, that’s it!”

“What?”

“I think I finally figured out why I feel so wrong about this apprenticeship thing!” Mabel grabbed her brother by the shoulders. “You said you can’t believe it! Why?”

Dipper’s smile faltered. “Mabel, it’s just a figure of speech…”

“Yeah, but you used it now for a reason. Why?”

“Because…” Dipper stopped and thought about it for a moment. “Because if you’d told me two months ago that I was going to stay in Gravity Falls and work with the Author of the Journals, and that he was a long-lost relative, I’d think you were crazy.”

“Exactly. And I wasn’t ready to say goodbye to Gravity Falls. I wanted more time with my friends.” Mabel agreed. “You said it yourself. Taking Grunkle Ford’s offer is a dream come true. Because staying in Gravity Falls is like living in a dream, or a fairy tale!”

“...What are you getting at here?” Dipper asked apprehensively.

“If we stay here, that’s not preparing us for the real world! We need to grow up in the real world first!”

“Are you implying that Gravity Falls isn’t real? That we’ve just dreamed up this whole summer?” Dipper asked incredulously. 

“No, of course not!” Mabel scoffed. “Sorry, maybe I’m not explaining this very well. Obviously, Gravity Falls is real. We’ve got real family and real friends here. And we’ve both grown up a lot over this past summer here. But would we keep on growing if we just stayed here all the time? Would we learn the things we need to grow up if we stay in a place where most of the grown-ups still act like kids? This is the kind of place where a nine-year-old can claim to be a child psychic and everyone believes him. This is the kind of place where the local kooky hobo is a genius inventor who builds death robots. This is the kind of place where a long-lost Grunkle can come out of a mysterious portal. This is the kind of place where a sad journalist like Toby Determined can have his own newspaper. Does that sound like the real world to you?”

Dipper grimaced. “Yeah, I guess I see your point. But… I thought you didn’t want to grow up?”

Mabel frowned and rubbed her arm sheepishly. “You’re right, I don’t want to…” She then looked up with renewed determination in her eyes. “But I know that I need to.”

The boy gave his sister a proud smile “You’re a lot more mature than most people give you credit for.”

“Thanks, Dip.”

“But…” His face fell. “I do feel like there’s so much more to learn about Gravity Falls… and I don’t want to disappoint Great Uncle Ford. I know he’d really love us to stay. I get the feeling he’s really lonely. The apprenticeship is everything I’ve wanted all summer… how can I just walk away from it?”

Mabel patted her brother on the shoulder. “Well, even if it’s not the right time to stay in Gravity Falls now, maybe someday when we are a little more grown up, we could move out here all year. So don’t think of it as walking away. Just think of it as saying ‘Not now’. And don’t worry about Grunkle Ford. He’s our family and he loves us! I’m sure he’ll understand.”

Dipper sighed and nodded. “I hope you’re right. Ever since Ford offered me the apprenticeship, I haven’t felt ready. He said I shouldn’t worry, because I’ve already accomplished so much, but I guess it’s not really about doubting my own abilities. It’s just not the right time in my life.”

“Guess we should go tell him, then, huh?”

“Oh yeah!” Dipper smacked his head. “I was heading downstairs to ask him to help Wendy with Bill-proofing her house. Maybe we can talk to him about it after that?”

Mabel nodded. “Yeah, making sure Wendy and her family are safe is more important. And it’s like Grunkle Ford keeps saying, we’ve got all week!”

* * *

After leaving Soos to look after the giftshop, Stan made a beeline for the kitchen where he knew his brother had been using the phone just moments ago. That nerd was about to get the talking-to of his life!

“Ford!” Stan called as he stormed down the hall. No response. 

He pushed the door open brusquely. The kitchen appeared empty, and the phone was hanging off its hook.

“Ford?” He called again. Suddenly, a figure shot out from behind the table. Stan barely had time to register that it was his brother before Ford dashed out of the room. What the heck had he been doing hiding practically under the table?

“Oh no, you’re not gettin’ off that easy!” Stan grumbled under his breath as he followed his brother. Sure, he wasn’t as fast as Ford, but the nerd had scrambled away so frantically that it wasn’t hard to follow his trail.

Unsurprisingly, the string of jostled furniture and scuffed floors led straight to Ford’s room. Also unsurprisingly, the door was locked. Stan rolled his eyes and slid a bobby pin out of his sleeve. What was even the point of locking a door that was so easy to pick?

Stan’s frustration with his brother evaporated as soon as he opened the door and got a good look. Ford was sitting in the corner of the sectional couch, curled up on himself. It wasn’t too far off from Mabel’s “Sweater Town”. The old researcher’s breaths came in short, shallow gasps, and he was eyeing his brother with the sort of caution a normal person would give an angry moose.

Was Ford… having a panic attack?

“Hey…” Stan said softly, approaching his brother with caution. “Hey, what’s wrong?”

Ford took a deep breath, and Stan could practically see his brother bottling up his emotions as the old nerd’s face became blank.

“Nothing. Nothing is wrong.” Ford said stoicly.

“Sure. And you bolted out of the kitchen just now because you saw a spider.”

Ford's blank expression flickered for a moment as annoyance crept in. "You startled me."

"Obviously." Stan rolled his eyes. "Anyway, I called Debbs back after she hung up on you."

"You were eavesdropping on me?" Ford accused coldly.

"Yeah, and it's a good thing too! I managed to smooth things over with her so the kids can still come back here next year, and you're still allowed to spend time with them!"

Ford didn't reply. He just kept staring straight ahead, stoney-faced.

"She just wanted me to have a talk with you. About you and the kids."

“She doesn’t have to worry. I doubt either of the children will want to spend time with me once they hear about this.”

Stan scoffed. “This isn’t gonna make the kids wanna stop spendin’ time with you, not by a long shot.”

“Perhaps not.” Ford agreed. “They’re still children, quick to forgive and forget. I’ll have to separate myself from them for their own good.”

“Wait, what?”

“Your original assessment was correct. I need to stay away from the kids. If not to protect them from the physical danger that comes with my line of work, then to protect them from the emotional danger of growing attached to a damaged man who doesn’t understand the simplest of human interactions.” He explained in a detached tone. 

"Ohno you don't!" Stan retorted. "I didn't just stick my neck out for you, just so you could push the kids away! Those kids love your guts, and it'd hurt 'em a lot more if you just suddenly cut them off!"

"This is exactly what I'm talking about." Ford said clinically, as though he was explaining the problem with one of his experiments and not his own insecurities. "I have no understanding of the thoughts and feelings of others. The fact that you had to talk their mother into allowing me to continue spending time with the children confirms it.”

Stan heaved a sigh. "You still don't really understand why Debbs said no, do you?"

"I understand perfectly."

"I don't think you do." The old conman shook his head. "It's like I keep telling you, they're just kids. They still need their mom, and she still needs them."

"Yes, you were right and I didn't listen to you. Just one of many signs that I'm unable to properly interact with other human beings."

"I'm not finished! The thing you're not getting is just because you can't wedge your way into their parents' place, doesn't mean you can't be in the kids' lives at all! You're still a part of this family."

"And yet Deborah took my offer as a threat."

"Debbs doesn't know you from Adam, Ford! Of course she freaked out! I couldn’t explain the whole situation to her, but I did tell her those kids are the best thing that’s happened to you in 30 years.”

Ford couldn’t deny Stan’s statement. “I can’t do it again!” His prior panic finally burst out of its bottles. “I can’t stand to hurt another person I care about because I don’t even realize what I’m doing wrong until it’s too late! And I don’t even listen when someone tries to explain it to me!” His flare of anger died down, and he curled back in on himself again. “What is wrong with me?” He moaned.

Stan cautiously took a seat on the other end of the couch. “Nothin’s wrong with you.”

The old researcher scoffed. “A lifetime of my experience says otherwise.”

“Look, just because you’re not good with people doesn’t mean something’s wrong with you. Not everyone’s a people person.”

“This goes far beyond not being a people person. I’ve hurt everyone I’ve ever come into contact with.”

“Wow, exaggeration much?”

“How can you joke about this when you’re one of the people I’ve hurt the most!?”

The two brothers froze as Ford’s words hung in the air. Stan was at a loss. Since when did Ford feel like he hurt Stan instead of the other way around?

“See, you can’t even deny it.” Ford continued when Stan didn’t have a response. “It’s just eas-- It’s just safer if I just stay out of everyone’s lives.”

“You can’t just cut yourself off from the world, genius.” The old conman finally found his words again. “You’re the one who was sayin’ you don’t wanna be alone anymore.”

“...I don’t want anyone else to get hurt either.”

Stan paused as he tried to think of how to handle this. “We still gotta stop Bill, right? That’s not something you can do alone.”

“I’ve been doing it alone for thirty years.”

“Yeah, and that’s worked real well, hasn’t it?”

“I was about to end him!” Ford shouted. “I was seconds away from taking the shot, when you opened the portal again and whisked me away!”

“...Oh.” Stan squeaked. He didn’t know how else to respond to that. So he just moved on with the conversation. “Listen, even you’ve gotta admit, you’ve had more success with those kids' help. Dipper helped you get that alien stuff you needed. Mabel pointed out the glue problem you never even realized. If we’re gonna take down this Bill guy, your best bet is to work with us, whether you like it or not. And yeah, maybe it’s risky, but isn’t it riskier to just sit around waitin’ for Bill to make his move?”

Ford just stared coldly back at his brother. “You’re not going to apologize?”

Stan rolled his eyes. “I’m not gonna apologize for saving your life, no.”

The old researcher frowned and furrowed his brow, but he didn’t seem surprised by Stan’s response. He sat there thinking for a few moments before finally speaking again.

“I can see the logic in needing to work together to stop Bill. The children have proven to be incredibly resourceful in that department. And in less than a week, they’ll be returning to California. I suppose it won’t matter after that.”

Stan pinched the bridge of his nose. “For cryin’ out loud, they’re just one state over, not on a different planet. All those arguments you were makin’ about the kids still bein’ able to stay in touch over the computer? That applies to you too, genius. You can even drive down and visit if you want.”

“It’s not about what I want. It’s about what’s best for Dipper and Mabel.”

“Heh, well, good to see we’re finally on the same page there at least. But I’m tellin’ ya, being their mad-scientist uncle is what’s best for them. And what’s best for you too.”

Ford was torn. He wanted to believe Stan’s words, but it was hard to ignore that negative part of his brain, telling him that Stan was a liar, and digging up all the times he had hurt people before. He pushed it to the back of his head for now. Better to focus on stopping Bill and protecting the rift. Speaking of which….

“If we’re both here, who’s guarding the lab entrance!?” 

“Relax, I left Soos to keep an eye on things.”

Stan’s reassurance was immediately undermined by the sound of a fight breaking out in the giftshop.

* * *

“Hey Soos, you seen Stan anywhere?” Wendy asked as she reentered the gift shop. 

Soos was clearing out the old inventory. After Mr. Pines’ Mystery Science Brother came in and asked Wendy questions about her dream, it had been a quiet day at the Mystery Shack. 

“He was here a minute ago, but he said he had to have another talk with his brother.”

Wendy rolled her eyes. “Of course. Well, I’m just gonna take off then. I gotta take care of some stuff. Let him know I decided to take the day off after all if you see him.”

“You got it, dude.” He assured her as she left.

Soos had been wanting a word with his boss himself, but whenever the handyman was about to ask Mr. Pines a question, Mr. Mystery was suddenly busy, giving a tour for just two people, yelling at his brother, or listening in on an important phone call.

It was clear that Mr. Pines was hiding something, and not the usual somethings Mr. Pines would hide, like incriminating evidence or suggestion cards. No, Soos got the impression that Mr. Pines was hiding something specifically from him. It wasn’t all that strange for Stan to avoid talking about anything that even remotely resembled feelings. But it was strange for Stan to avoid talking about what they were going to do for the off season. And even stranger for him to refuse free labor. True, there was a bunch of major drama going down in the Pines family right now, but it wasn’t like Mr. Pines to let it affect how he ran his business.

“The Mystery Shack has needed to be rebuilt like four times in the last two months. Maybe Stan’s just worried because all this reconstruction is costing too much money.” Soos reasoned to himself as he worked alone in the giftshop. But he didn’t quite believe himself.

The bell over the giftshop door jingled, distracting Soos from his thoughts. He quickly ran to the cash register, ready to serve another customer. “Welcome to the Mystery Shack dude!”

“Hello.” A short man with a grotesque face and a tiny 1930’s style reporter’s hat replied.

“Oh, hey Toby! I see you got away from that griffin!”

“I was indigestible!” Toby Determined said as if he was proudly proclaiming he got a new haircut.

“That’s cool. What brings you here?”

“I’m here to interview you, actually!” the reporter explained. “Rumor has it that Mr. Mystery has a long lost twin, and you’re the man with the inside scoop!”

“I mean, it’s kinda supposed to be a secret.” Soos hesitated. “I’ve only told Wendy, and my abuelita, and the mailman, and everyone who was at Greasy's Diner during the lunch rush last Saturday…”

“You’d get to be on the front page of the Gravity Falls Gossiper!” Toby enticed in a sing-song voice, holding up today’s issue for good measure.

“I’ll do it!” Soos declared.

“Perfect! Now, to start off, I’ll need to take your photo!”

“Oh hey, when’d you get a real camera?” Soos asked as Toby pulled out a large camera with an even larger flashbulb.

“Oh, uh, just recently.” Toby chuckled nervously. “Now, you stand right over there, next to that display of bright, shiny, reflective crystals. And I’ll stand right here, next to this clearly out of order vending machine.”

Soos struck a pose where Toby had told him to stand. “Oh, dude, wait--” He remembered he was supposed to be guarding the vending machine just as the reporter snapped the photo. The camera’s flash reflected and refracted through the crystals, blinding the handyman.

“Ah! My eyes!”

“Ah! Also my eyes!”

Unfortunately for Toby, he hadn’t stopped to think that maybe he should protect himself from the flash.

“Uh, dude, could you do me a favor and not touch that vending machine until my eyes adjust back to normal?”

“Never!” The determined reporter declared. “The man in the color-changing clothes and funny goggles told me I could be with Shandra Jimenez forever if I brought him the magic sticky ball hidden in the secret basement!” 

Toby felt around blindly for the machine’s key-pad and started pressing buttons randomly. Soos followed the beeping sound and tackled the little man to the ground. 

“Not cool, dude! You are officially banned from our FCLORP team!” 

“No!” Toby whined. “You guys are the only people who tolerate me!”

“Well, you should’ve thought of that before you tried to break into Dr. Pines’ secret lab, dude! Which, uh, which he totally doesn’t have. That… that’s not a real thing.”

Toby obviously didn’t believe him, as he continued to struggle against Soos for access to the vending machine. Soos easily stopped him by just sitting on top of him.

“Y’know.” the handyman mused as his eyes began to adjust back to normal. “Dipper and Mabel put up a much harder fight than you. I’m just sayin’ you might wanna start doin’ more exercise and stuff. I know a place at the mall that teaches karate! I’ve been goin’ there since I was ten.”

“Let me go!” Toby demanded as he flailed his arms and legs uselessly.

“No can do, dawg. I promised Mr. Pines I’d hold down the fort while he’s busy taking care of family junk.”

Soos didn’t have to keep Toby at bay for much longer. For the second time that day, Dr. Pines burst out of the Employees Only door. He had his blaster drawn, and Stan wasn’t far behind him.

“What happened!?” Ford barked, aiming his blaster down at Toby’s wriggling form. “What is that thing?”

“Uh, I think Bill got to Toby.” Soos explained.

The old researcher grimaced. “Bill must have used some sort of magical artefact to mutate him!”

“What? No, he’s always been like that.” Stan corrected him. “What’d the triangle promise you, Toby?”

“Triangle?” The reporter asked in confusion. “I don’t know what you’re talking about!”

“He said a dude in color-changing clothes and funny goggles told him he could be with Shandra Jimenez forever if he got the magic sticky ball in the secret basement.” Soos recounted.

“And nothing about that seemed suspicious to you?” Stan asked.

“Well, not particularly…”

“Why am I not surprised.” The old conman rolled his eyes and crossed his arms. “Somebody’s pullin’ a prank on you, Toby. The Mystery Shack doesn’t have a basement.”

“Oh, but he was so convincing!” Toby whined.

“He is very convincing.” Ford said gravely. “Where were you when he found you? Do you know where he is now?”

“He just came into the printing room while I was finishing off this morning’s publication. He told me to bring the ball to the dump.”

Ford scratched his chin thoughtfully, considering all the information before him. “It’s probably a trap. I doubt Bill expected this attempt to work.”

“Really, what gave you that idea?” Stan asked sarcastically. “Hey Toby, if you leave now and promise not to come back, I won’t press charges.”

“Hooray!”

“Oh, and gimme a call if you see that, uh, prankster again.”

The reporter agreed and left. Ford immediately began pacing.

“This was almost a disaster! If Bill had sent a competent pawn instead of this distraction, the rift would be broken by now!” He rounded on Stan “Why did you leave the secret entrance unguarded!?”

“I didn’t leave it unguarded, I left Soos.” Stan defended. “And yeah, he’s a goofus, but he got the job done, so I don’t see what you’re complaining about.”

“Aw, thanks Mr. Pines.”

“Don’t get mushy on me, kid.”

“Everything turned out alright this time, yes.” Ford admitted. “But what if Bill sends someone or something more dangerous than a tiny goblin man?”

“I can totally handle it, dude.” Soos assured him. “I’ve fought puhterodactyls, haunted animatronics, and ate my way out of a creepy monster made of candy.”

“Really?” Ford looked at the handyman like he was just seeing Soos properly for the first time.

The conversation paused when Dipper and Mabel entered the room.

“Here’s everybody. Hey Great Uncle Ford, can I ask you a favor for Wendy?” Dipper asked. He then took in Ford’s frantic pacing and Soos’s rumpled clothes. “What’s going on?”

“Toby Determined just tried to break into the lab.” Stan replied nonchalantly, like he was commenting on finding gnomes in the trash again.

“What?” The young twins cried in unison.

“Was it Bill?” Mabel asked in concern.

“It couldn’t have been, the barrier spell is still up.” Dipper reasoned. “Right?”

“The barrier is still intact, yes.” Ford assured them. “It appears Bill convinced Toby to find the rift while possessing the same time travel agent as before.”

“Poor Blendin.” Mabel worried.

“I can’t believe Bill actually tried to use Toby.” Dipper said incredulously. “I mean, he can’t have gotten very far.”

“He didn’t.” Stan said simply.

“I sat on him.” Soos added.

“It seems like Bill is trying to set some sort of trap.” Ford explained. “Bill told Toby to bring the rift to the dump. I suspect he shared that information knowing that Toby would get caught, and that we would interrogate him.”

“That’s weird. Why would Bill want us to go to the dump?” Dipper wondered. “Unless…” the boy’s eyes widened and as he glanced at his sister, he knew the same awful realization was dawning on her. Neither of them had heard from McGucket since the party at Northwest Manor, the day before the portal reopened. 

“Unless what?” Ford asked eagerly.

“Uhhh…” the young twins hemmed. They’d purposely forgotten to tell Ford about what happened to his old friend. How do you tell someone their best friend had driven himself insane and was now a homeless coot living in the dump? Although, considering Ford read Dipper’s entries in the Journal, the old researcher probably at least had an idea of how far McGucket had fallen.

“You remember your old research buddy, right?” Mabel asked awkwardly.

“...What does Fiddleford have to do with this situation?”

“He… kinda lives in the dump now.” Dipper’s reply pitched up at the end, almost like it was a question.

Ford stared at them agape for a moment. “I’d gathered that his mental state had deteriorated since I left, but… from what Dipper had written, it seemed like he was still working in robotics. How--why is he living in the dump!?”

“I think he’s just really bad with money.” Mabel shrugged. “He won a sweepstakes earlier this summer and he’s already spent it all on junky cars from Gleeful’s Auto Sales.”

“Yeah, I think he just used them for parts to build the Gideon-bot.” Dipper added.

“And you both believe he’s still at the dump?” Ford asked, distraught.

“Well, that’s where he’s lived all summer.” Dipper said slowly. “But… neither of us have seen him since the night before you got here.”

The old researcher finally stopped pacing and sat down heavily in the chair behind the cash register, running his fingers anxiously through his hair.

“Even if it is most likely a trap, that’s bait I can’t ignore…”

“We have to go find him and make sure he’s ok!” Mabel insisted.

“Yeah, but we can’t just walk right into an obvious trap!” Dipper exclaimed. 

“So just sneak in.” Stan suggested. “It’s the dump, not the State Penitentiary.” 

Ford shook his head. “Bill can’t be snuck up on, he has eyes everywhere. Our best hope is to take a direct approach and be prepared for anything.”

Stan rolled his eyes. “Yeah, of course you would wanna go in guns ablazing.”

“Says the man who thinks every problem can be solved by punching it!”

“Ok, ok.” Dipper held up his hands, hoping his Grunkles would be able to stop fighting long enough to come up with a plan. “But launching a full-scale rescue mission is probably exactly what Bill wants. We can’t leave the Shack and the Rift unguarded.”

“Eh, Soos can probably watch it again.” Stan said.

“Sure thing, Mr. Pines.”

“Actually, I think Soos’s abilities might be better suited for our rescue mission.” Ford suggested. “We’ll need an unpredictable element. Someone who Bill is likely to underestimate. I think you’d be better to stay and guard the lab, Stanley.”

“Fine by me.” Stan shrugged. “I honestly couldn’t care less what happens to Old Man McGucket.”

Ford scowled at his brother, but held his tongue for now.

“I think we’ll need more than just Stan to watch the Shack.” Dipper reasoned. 

“Thanks for the vote of confidence, kid.” Stan said sarcastically.

“It’s not like I doubt your skills, I’ve seen you punch dinosaurs and fight zombies, but Bill is really dangerous, and we can’t afford to take any risks.” The boy looked around the giftshop. “Where’s Wendy?”

“Oh yeah, she took the rest of the day off.” Soos remembered. “She said she had to take care of some stuff.”

“Aw man.” Dipper groaned. The lumberjack’s daughter would have been the perfect person to help Stan guard the Shack. She was cunning and resourceful and could bury a hatchet’s blade three inches into a tree from ten feet away.

Mabel tugged on her brother’s vest. “Dipper, you should stay here with Stan.”

“What? But I wanna go with Great Uncle Ford! And, uh, I was the last one who saw McGucket at the party!” The boy protested, trying to throw some weak logic behind his desire.

“I know, but… but…” The girl threw her arms around her brother as she failed to keep her voice from trembling. “I’m so scared that Bill is gonna hurt you again! Please, can’t you just stay here where you’re safe from him?”

Dipper returned her hug. “I don’t want him to hurt you either. Maybe both of us should stay?”

Mabel shook her head. “No, somone’s gotta go make sure McGucket’s alright, and if it is a trap, Grunkle Ford’s gonna need all the help he can get.”

“Just promise you’ll be careful.”

“Don’t worry, brobro, I’ve always got my secret weapon!” Mabel assured him, pulling out her grappling hook.

“I’ll make sure she’s safe.” Ford promised, making pointed eye contact first with Dipper, then with Stan.

“Yeah, you better. Otherwise it’s your funeral when her mom finds out.” Stan grunted.

“Does everyone have what you need to defend yourselves?” Ford asked. Mabel held up her grappling hook, and Soos grabbed a shovel out of the Shack’s utility closet. “Then let’s go! We’ll discuss a plan on the way there.”

[fallen-gravity]

Scars, Show Me All The Scars You Hide

Ford and Mabel have a talk about blame, and how too much of it can cause the heart pain.

Alternatively,

Mabel tells Ford about her encounter with Bill prior to the start of Weirdmageddon.

AO3

Everything is peaceful. 

Ever since the town had been cleansed of any and all evidence that Weirdmageddon had happened at all, the small town of Gravity Falls seemed to sigh a breath of relief for the first time in decades. The birds were chirping away as the clouds from an earlier rainfall were beginning to clear. The whole atmosphere of the town still smelled of rainfall, and it seemed that half of the town’s population was out for a walk to enjoy it. Everyone in town seemed friendlier to each other, too. It was near-impossible to come across a sidewalk unoccupied by groups of people gathered in messy circles to talk. 

The Shack was booming with business, far more than the morning after Gideon’s arrest.  Also in great contrast was the fact that those who were stopping by the shack had little interest in tours, rather to come in to meet the family that saved the town from utter destruction. Stan had already gotten far more than his fair share of aggressive handshakes and teary-eyed hugs from citizens who’d lived in town their whole lives,  while Ford stood off to the side, watching them with a quiet fondness, finally understanding what his brother had meant when he told them the Shack had been a fundamental part of the town’s history. When they had first argued over the deed to the Shack, Ford had just thought he’d been exaggerating, but it was moments like those, as well as the times he would be mistaken for Stan in public, that really opened his eyes to how much the people of this town really loved the place, and, more importantly, how much these people loved his brother. 

Today might be the first lull the Shack’s seen in a solid month, and Stan had made the decision to close up shop to spend time with the family before Dipper and Mabel had to head off back home. They’d spent the entire early afternoon together, playing dumb games and watching dumb movies, and now, for the first time today, they were all off doing their own thing. It wouldn’t last, they knew, but they also couldn’t argue against the fact that sometimes comfortable silence was one of the warmest feelings on Earth. 

Stan’s taking a nap on the back porch, Dipper’s in the kitchen scribbling things down in a blank notebook Ford had gifted him when he was offered the apprenticeship, and Ford was down in his basement lab, cleaning up the last of the rubble of the portal he and Stan had taken baseball bats to the night prior. 

Mabel…. 

Mabel is pacing back and forth in the living room, stuck wondering why if everything is so peaceful and perfect, just like she’d dreamed things would be, that something still felt...off to her.  Not in the sense that she’d forgotten something, or that things shouldn’t be all peachy keen, it’s more along the lines of something that’s wrong with her specifically.

She knew it couldn’t be a lack of sleep, because she’d fallen asleep in Grunkle Stan’s lap during one of the movies earlier. It could be that she’s sad to be leaving in a week, she supposes, but no, they hadn’t been talking much about her and Dipper’s departure lately, and she’d already made both Stan and Ford pinky promise her that the two of them could spend the following summer in Gravity Falls, so that couldn’t be it either…

“Mabel?” Dipper asks, startling her out of her thoughts, and she freezes in her pacing. He’s carrying his notebook under one arm, and his favorite blue pen is poking out of his hair from behind his ear. Nerd. “Is everything okay?”

“I don’t know…” Mabel admitted, rubbing at her arm. “I know that everything’s all sunshine and rainbows now that Bill’s gone for good, but I don’t feel like sunshine and rainbows”

“Oh, Mabel…” Dipper frowned, placing his book on the armrest of Stan’s chair. “Is it because we’re leaving so soon? I know Stan already promised us we could stay here whenever we needed, but I thought you missed Mom and Dad”

“I do miss them!” Mabel shot her arms in the air. “I miss everyone at home. But I don’t think that’s what’s bugging me so much”.

Dipper frowns, and takes a seat in Stan’s chair, indicating he wasn’t going to leave the room until he could figure out what was bugging her himself. “Well...what do you think it is?”

“I don’t know!” Mabel whined, bringing her hand to her forehead as if she had a bad headache. “I’m thrilled that everything’s okay, I’m thrilled that Stan and Ford are best friends again, and I’m thrilled that we get to come back next summer, but I...can’t shake the feeling that something’s wrong. I haven’t been able to since the morning Stan woke up with his memories intact” 

“Mabel, that was two days ago!”

“I know, I know…” Mabel begins pacing again. “But I just thought that it was just cause I was so stressed he was gonna relapse again, or that something else terrible was gonna happen, or-”

The small crunch of a piece of paper interrupts her before she can finish her train of thought, and when she looks down to see what she’d stepped on she realizes it’s an early draft of the invitation cards for her and Dipper’s birthday party.

Her face goes pale at the sight. 

“Mabel, are you okay?” Dipper stands to reach out for her shoulder. “You’re not looking too hot…”

“I know what it is�� she says, before he can touch her, and he retracts his hand. 

“You do? Can you tell me?” 

Mabel takes a few looks around the room to make sure that they’re alone.

“Follow me,” she says, but then she grabs Dipper by the hand and runs up the stairs to their attic bedroom.

“Mabel, what’s happening?” Dipper asks her as she locks the room behind her. “You’re acting a lot like...me” 

“It’s all my fault”

“What? What’s all your fault?”

The concern in her brother’s tone makes her choke up for reasons she can’t describe. “Weirdmageddon”, she shutters. “It’s all my fault”.

“What?” Dipper’s voice squeaks, which makes Mabel flinch. “Mabel, don’t say that! Of course it’s not your fault!”

“Yes it is,” she mopes, and plops herself down onto her bed. “Bill came after me when I ran into the woods, and I gave him that weird snow-globe looking thing.” She buries her face in her pillow, but she doesn’t wait for her brother to respond before she keeps going.  “It wasn’t out of anger, or anything, I swear. He possessed that Blendin guy and promised me an eternal summer in exchange, and I handed it over because I’m a big dummy dumb, and everyone got hurt because I thought I wanted time to freeze forever so we wouldn’t have to be apart” 

For a brief moment there’s silence, but then Dipper’s hand on her shoulder. When she pulls her face out of her pillow to look at him, it’s all wet and gooey. “Mabel, are you kidding? I thought the rift shattered in your backpack. I thought for sure it was because you tripped, and everything exploded out of your backpack. I thought you were a goner”. 

Mabel sniffles, but she doesn’t respond. 

“Mabel, your story is so much better than the ones I was making up in my head. I mean, I wish Bill had never tracked you down at all, but I’m so glad you weren’t hurt.” He pulls her into a hug. “Great Uncle Ford and I were just talking about this the other morning, Mabel. He was worried sick that he’d hurt you taking it by force” 

“You’re…” she stutters, returning the hug. “You’re not mad?” 

“Of course not” he shakes his head. “I meant what I said in Mabeland. Whatever happens, we get through it together”. 

She giggles and pulls away from the hug, wiping at her face with her sleeves. “But...what about Grunkle Ford?”

Dipper shakes his head. “You should tell him too. He’s gonna be understanding, Mabel, he already knows how much Bill had it out for us personally”

That’s...true, she supposes, shuttering at the memory of her and Dipper offering themselves up as bait so Bill wouldn’t kill their Grunkles. She stands to exit the room, gives her brother one more hug for good luck, and and repeats Dipper’s words to herself the entire way down the staircase and into the gift shop. The stairs to the basement are propped open, which she assumes is because Ford no longer feels he needs to keep its location a secret.  She makes her way down slowly, partly out of nerves and partly to avoid spooking Ford.

He’ll understand, she says to herself one last time as she exits the elevator. Ford’s sitting at the work desk, and the view of the portal in the next room is blocked off with a curtain. He’s hunched over, just a little bit, and Mabel figures it’s probably because he’s writing something in one of the journals. It’s only as she approaches him that she realizes he’s not wearing his trench coat, because she can tell that he rolled the sleeves of his sweaters up to make for easier writing. 

“Grunkle Ford?” she asks, knocking lightly on the machine closest to her right in case calling his name isn’t enough to snap him out of his focus. 

“Mabel!” his response is cheery, and he places a bookmark on the page he’d been working on and closes the cover. “What brings you down here?” 

“Well, I...guess I wanted to talk to you about something”.

“Sure, anything” he grins, patting at his pant leg in invitation to come sit on his lap. Mabel sighs, tries to think for a moment about how she can place things lightly, and takes Ford up on his offer. She crawls up onto his lap, opens her mouth to speak, and freezes when she notices that his wrist is covered in cuts and blistering scars. A quick glance at the other wrist and she’s met with the same sight. 

“Grunkle Ford?” is all she can manage, and her eyes follow hers to the scars on her wrist. 

“Oh!” he replies, much cheerier than she’d expected him to, and rolls his sleeves back down. “I’m going to be fine, sweetie, those will heal in due time”.

“What happened to you?” she looks up at him with her signature puppy eyes. “How recent are these?” 

From her spot on his lap, Mabel can feel Ford’s chest rise and fall as he sighs quietly. “You have to promise me you won’t tell Stan,” he says, rubbing delicately at his wrist. Mabel nods silently, and his eyes fall to the ground to avoid eye contact with his niece.

“Bill did this to me. When he was demanding that I give him the codes to undo the bubble around the town, he chained me by my arms and legs and fried me until I talked. I’m so sorry that you had to come across them by accident, but, uh, I’m grateful that you saw them today, rather than earlier. I nearly threw up when I saw them for the first time after I was freed”

Mabel’s breath hitches, and she’s tearing up. It’s getting harder and harder to convince herself that It’s not your fault could be a true statement when everyone she cares about is getting hurt by it. Bill fried him. Bill chained him up and fried him, and if the scars on his wrists are just from the chains, she can’t even begin to imagine what the scars must look like under the rest of his sweater. He must be completely disfigured from the neck down, if she knows anything about Bill. He’d tried to kill her two other times prior to Weirdmageddon, but those were over much less risky things than control over the whole universe.

She throws herself against Ford’s sweater in a fit of choked sobs, and his arms are around her before she can even finish processing that she’s crying again.

“There, there, Mabel” Ford’s voice is cool and collected, but tinged with sadness to see her break down like this for the second time in three days. He rubs gentle circles into her back, quietly shushing her sobs, and the tender gesture of it all just makes Mabel cry even harder. “It’s okay, Mabel. You’re okay. You’re safe. I’m safe, thanks to you”. He gently pats her hair, and Mabel sniffles as she pulls away. Ford keeps his hand where it is, at the top of her head, and she hates how much of a grounding feeling it is. 

“It’s not okay!” She yells, and more tears pour down her face. “You’re hurting! Bill could’ve killed you!” she gasps for air. “If we had shown up just five minutes later than we did, you could’ve been a goner!” She takes his other wrist, which was still wrapped around her to prevent her from falling off of his lap, and rolls it up to reveal the identical scar he’d just covered up moments ago. “These look worse than the time I pulled a tray of cupcakes out of the oven with my bare hands cause I was too excited to wait for them! I thought I was never gonna feel anything ever again!” She cries. 

“Mabel, sweetie…” 

“No!” she cries. “I don’t deserve to be called that. It’s all my fault he hurt you.” Her sobs quiet as her body seems to double-whammy her and send her into a panic attack, trembling uncontrollably against Ford’s chest. “It’s my fault” 

There’s a gentle six-fingered hand on her cheek, and she looks up to warm brown eyes staring into hers with heartbroken worry. “It’s not your fault, my dear, Bill and I have a really complicated history together. Nothing you could’ve done would’ve changed that”

“That’s exactly my point! Bill may not have acted any differently, but I still could’ve!” 

“What do you mean?”

Mabel wipes away her tears with her wrist again.

“It’s my fault everything happened in the first place. I’m the reason Bill got his hands on the...uh...rift, I think Dipper called it” she sniffles. “Bill caught up to me when I was all upset in the woods about arguing with Dipper, and told me he could fix things if I gave it to him, and I-” 

She’s cut off by Ford’s hug around her tightening, like she just unlocked a set of keywords that’d make him never want to let go of her again.

“Mabel, I want you to listen to me very carefully”

She doesn’t say anything, but squeezes him in silent confirmation to let him know she’s still listening.

“Nothing that happened was your fault, okay? I need you to understand how genuine that statement is. It wouldn’t matter if Bill convinced you to smash the rift into the ground yourself. It wouldn’t matter if you handed it over without question, or if you shook his hand.”

“But-”

“Let me finish” he cuts her off, but the soft nature in his tone lets her know he isn’t upset. “Mabel, it doesn’t matter who said or did what because this is exactly how Bill liked to play his games. He knew you wouldn’t be thinking straight, he knew you wouldn’t question anything he asked you to do.” he reaches under his glasses to wipe at his own eyes. “He did the same thing to me when I was younger, Mabel. I called him my best friend. He convinced me to hang onto every word he ever said without giving them a second thought”

He pulls her away from the hug so he can look her in the eyes again. “You’re the sweetest person I’ve ever encountered in any dimension, Mabel. Don’t blame yourself for the mistakes I made when I was younger. If there’s anyone that should be blamed for the whole ordeal besides Bill, it should be me.”

“Grunkle Ford, don’t say that!” 

He laughs quietly, bitterly. “I should have told you about the rift earlier, Mabel. I’m sorry I kept it a secret from you”

“It’s okay,” she replies. “I know that you were just trying to keep me safe. Stan had to keep a lot of things from me, too”.

“No kidding…” Ford’s voice drifts off, which makes Mabel painfully aware of the fact she was currently holding a conversation with one of said things. He shakes his head. “Anyway, what I’m trying to say is that pitting all of the blame on yourself isn’t going to do you any good.” He rubs awkwardly at the back of his neck. “...Stan and I had to learn that one the hard way. If you focus too much on the idea that all you’ve done is hurt people, you miss out on all of the times you’ve done good for other people.”

He smiles warmly. 

“Dipper told me you were the one who stopped the portal from shutting down. I’m not sure I’d even still be alive if it weren’t for you. You’ve done so much good for the people you care about that anything else is nonexistent in comparison. You’re a wonderful person, Mabel, inside and out. If there ever were a person out there who truly was pure of heart, I can say in all honesty that I think it’d be you”.

Mabel’s on the verge of crying again. She throws herself at him in another hug, and he’s quick to hug her back.

“You’re a wonderful person too, Grunkle Ford. I don’t want you to forget that either”.

If she didn’t know any better, she’d swear she could hear him sniffle at the remark.

[a-solitary-marshmallow]

Please Don’t See Me - Chapter 4

As shaky as things with Rebus had begun, they quickly settled into a comfortable companionship. The wolf was stubborn and willful when he wanted to be but it was… actually quite nice, to have someone to talk to.

As the days passed Rebus allowed Ford closer and closer, finally permitting Ford to brush his wild fur when more than a few of Ford’s belongings got tangled up in there. If anything Rebus seemed to appreciate the grooming. Ford couldn’t say he liked having his hair brushed (it was too short to do anything with and he’d never had anyone try to touch it beyond casual hair-ruffling) but he had to admit, it was quite soothing to run his hands through clean, silky fur.

If only the wolf wasn’t so frightening to look at.

Ford sighed, standing alone and empty-handed at the front door where the mailman had run off screaming, taking Ford’s package with him. Rebus yawned and stretched and looked generally imposing and wolf-like.

“Could you not scare away the postman?” Ford complained. Rebus looked entirely unapologetic. “Unbelievable.”

 ____________________________________________________________________

­­­­

“You’re only making this harder on yourself.”

Rebus growled stubbornly and planted his ass on the porch, refusing to move no matter how much Ford pushed and pulled. If only the darn wolf wasn’t so heavy! Ford was up to his elbows in thick fur.

“You’re filthy, and you’re shedding!” He pressed his back against the wolf and shoved, only managing to slide him a few centimeters. Great. In an hour they might reach the front door. “You need a wash.”

Rebus let out a little growl.

“Oh, stop that.” Ford grabbed handfuls of fur and pulled. The hound sighed dramatically and flopped onto the deck, making Ford squawk in frustration. “Don’t lie down! Rebus!”

Rebus resolutely ignored him. Ford straightened.

“Of course. Of course I have to deal with this.”

Rebus’s outright refusal to bathe almost reminded him of his teenaged years, Ma bullying Stanley into washing. ‘A dip in tha ocean doesn’t count!’ She’d scold. ‘Go get yer ass in the shower or I’ll empty a bucket a’ water over yer head!’

Hmm.

Rebus yelped when Ford dumped a bucket of cold water over him. Ford snickered at the wrinkled nose and dirty glare Rebus shot him as he crawled, wet and dripping, from the rather sudden puddle.

“You were the one who refused to move to the bathroom. Don’t blame me for the consequences.”

Ford got to feel vindictively gleeful, up until Rebus shook and sprayed him from head to toe in dirty water.

  ____________________________________________________________________

­­

Ford went on a shopping run to stock up on supplies. When he returned, Rebus was curled up on the couch and the TV was blaring. Ford froze in the doorway.

Rebus glanced up almost guiltily. Reruns continued to play. The wolf rolled

sideways onto the remote and the TV switched off. Rebus yawned, stretched, and padded away, leaving Ford gaping.

  ____________________________________________________________________

 It was past midnight and Rebus was still bothering him! Ford threw down his pen and turned to glare blearily at the fussing animal. Rebus glared back from his spot in the doorway of Ford’s study.

“What? I already fed you! I’m busy.”

Wait, had he fed the wolf? He must have, Rebus would bark and whine and generally be a nuisance if Ford forgot. So what else did he want? Ford was getting frustrated with all the pacing and the stares. Rebus had been sending him those looks all night! All… morning? Afternoon? Ford wasn’t sure how long he’d been at it. He was pretty sure he’d pulled at least one all-nighter in the last few days but it was all a little hazy.

Tugging – Rebus had bitten his sweater sleeve and was currently tugging Ford out of his chair. Ford yelped and grabbed the desk to steady himself.

“Hey!”

He pulled back. Rebus yanked again with a jerk of his head and sent Ford stumbling forward.

“Let me go – you ridiculous animal – hey!”

Rebus continued dragging him through the house until Ford stumbled and caught himself on the frame of his bedroom door. He grabbed Rebus’s jaw to try and pry the fabric from his teeth but Rebus shook his head from side to side to avoid the reaching hands.

At some point it devolved into a tug-of-war, Ford still half inside his sweater and unable to hold back snorts of laughter at how hopelessly tangled he was quickly becoming. He wrestled Rebus to the ground as well as he could one-armed. Rebus growled playfully and tugged at his clothes.

Ford wheezed. He hadn’t noticed it while at his desk, but now that he was moving his vision was swimming a little. Come to think of it, when had he last slept? He was conveniently near his bedroom, as if that was where Rebus had been so intent on pulling him. Maybe a nap wouldn’t hurt…?

Rebus seemed to sense that Ford’s head wasn’t in the game anymore, because he quit playing and instead leaned against Ford’s side. The scientist yawned and reached up blindly to pet Rebus’s ears.

“Yes, yes… play can wait. I think I’ll try to catch a few hours of sleep.”

Rebus didn’t seem too disheartened. In fact, he watched sternly as Ford stumbled to bed, letting out a satisfied huff when Ford’s head hit the pillow.

Odd behaviour… Ford thought, before slipping into dreams.

  ____________________________________________________________________

 Rebus growled and dodged out of the way as Ford tried to clip the harness around his chest.

“Stay still! A leash is necessary if I don’t want to get in trouble. It’s either this or a collar, and you made your position clear on collars.”

Rebus glared at the object in Ford’s hand. The scientist scowled.

“You and I both know you don’t need a leash. But the residents of Gravity Falls don’t. They’ll get in a panic if you walk up unrestrained! Do you want to visit the town or not?”

The stare-off continued, until Rebus finally looked away. Ears pressed flat, he slunk forward to unhappily let Ford clip him in.

“See? Not so hard.” Ford said triumphantly. Rebus continued to mope the entire drive down to Gravity falls. That is, until the houses came into view. The wolf perked up, even going so far as to press his face to the window to get a good view of the town around them.

Once Ford parked and they exited the vehicle, getting around became a little more difficult, what with the teen screaming ‘WOLF’ and jumpscaring everyone on the street. Ford lifted his hands, holding the leash in clear view, in the hopes of de-escalating the situation.

“It’s okay, he’s domesticated. He’s my, uh…” Damn, he hadn’t thought this far ahead. “…dog. A crossbreed.”

The teen continued to peer suspiciously at the obviously-a-wolf. Rebus wagged his tail helpfully.

“…okay.” She said dubiously. “Er – what’s its name?”

“Rebus.”

The teen tipped her head, still squinting somewhat. “Does it bite?”

“Certainly not.” Ford lied. Well, it technically wasn’t a lie – Rebus didn’t bite people. The wolf in question stepped forward to greet the slightly-less-suspicious teenager, who hesitantly offered one hand.

“Um. Hi, Rebus? I’m Matilda.” She added to Ford, who nodded and introduced himself in turn.

“Stanford Pines.”

Matilda looked up suddenly from petting Rebus. “Wait, you’re the scientist dude who lives in that weird shack?”

Ford rubbed the back of his neck. “Ah, well, yes. I am a scientist.”

“No kidding. Everyone knows about you, dude. They’ve just never met you before. Or heard your name or know anything about you.”

“I tend to keep to myself.” Ford admitted. “How did you know who I am?”

“My boyfriend Dan talks about you sometimes.”

“Ah, yes, Boyish Dan. The lumberjack.”

Matilda sent him finger guns. She seemed quite laid-back when she wasn’t screaming about wolves. Ford decided to chalk up that incident to surprise.

“Well, give him my regards. Rebus and I must be on our way before the shop closes.”

“Sure.” Matilda stood, dusting hair off her jeans. “And, uh, just a word of advice; you might wanna get that dog a collar.”

Rebus shot him a glare. Ford sighed. “I’ll certainly keep that in mind.”

  ____________________________________________________________________

Ford had grown used to the crashing of gnomes raiding his bins every few days. When he first came to Gravity Falls he’d tried to put a stop to it, but they’d always come back the next day. Eventually he had given up. They rarely tried coming inside, and as long as they stuck to raiding the bins and nothing else it was tolerable.

But he hadn’t heard the tell-tail banging and clattering for almost a week now. Ford peeked through the window to check; there sat a row of untouched bins. The gnomes hadn’t just gotten very quiet all of a sudden; they hadn’t come at all. Why had they suddenly decided to leave his house alone? Not that he wasn’t thankful. More often than not they would leave a mess for Ford to clean up after.

There was the clicking of claws, and Rebus brushed against his legs on his way to the lounge. Ford failed to notice the strands of grey beard hair sticking out against his dark coat, and turned away from the window just in time to miss a party of scuffed and bruised gnomes scrambling into the forest as fast as their little legs could carry them.

  ____________________________________________________________________

Ford had made a slight, miniscule mistake.

A lapse of judgment, maybe. He’d gotten so caught up in a recent breakthrough that he had… maybe… forgotten to pay the power bills. And the water bills. And, he was pretty sure, a couple other bills he probably should have been paying.

With the sudden onset of a blizzard he was now firmly shut up in his not-heated house, shivering against the chill. He’d tried lighting a fire but what little firewood he had available had been soaked through by the melting snow. Ford resorted to bundling up in the warmest clothes he could find and huddling on the couch.

He shot a jealous look at Rebus, still shivering slightly under layers of blankets. The wolf’s heavy coat had finally come in handy and now he lay, perfectly warm and content, on the carpet.

Ford pulled his blankets tighter around him, unable to suppress a shiver. He vowed to never forget to pay his electricity bills again.

Rustling got his attention – Rebus had gotten up from his comfortable napping spot and yawned, before jumping up onto the couch next to Ford. Ford lifted one corner of the blankets invitingly.

Rebus squirmed in with him, heavy and warm, like an oversized heater. Ford didn’t object when the wolf lay half on top of him and yawned again. He only buried his face and hands in the warm fur and, toasty and comfortable for the first time in hours, fell asleep.

(he would wake up the next morning with a crick in his neck and a wolf snoring against him, warm despite the frostiness of the air. And after that night Rebus would often sleep by him, curled up at his feet or at the foot of his bed or flopped across him without a care in the world, as if liberated by the realization that he was truly safe and wanted)

[nataliedanovelist]

GF - The Treehouse

Summary: Right before Dipper and Mabel return to Gravity Falls for another summer, Stan and Ford decide to do something nice for them only for it to nip them in the butt.

Author’s Note: So if there is ONE thing I'm disappointed in the GF fandom for (besides BillDip and ANY incest shipping) is that there are NO Drake and Josh references! I can think of at least twelve episodes that would fit PERFECTLY with the silver foxes! Seriously, am I just in the dark or crazy or has no one else made that connection? Anywho, thank you so much for reading and if you liked this one-shot then you should check my fics out; I've done quite a bit of Gravity Falls that can be found on FanFiction.net. Have a great day!

https://www.fanfiction.net/story/story_tab_list.php

~~~~~~~~~~

Ford hummed a mindless tune to himself as he picked up the red toolbox and climbed up a make-shift ladder; he had made it by hammering planks of thick wood to a tree, leading up to where the Treehouse of Dreams was, or will be when he and Stan finished it.

It was so hot in the early summer afternoon that Ford had actually shed his trenchcoat and rolled up his sweater-sleeves, showcasing his less-gruesome scars. His six-fingered work gloves covered the old burn-scars on his wrists given to him by Bill, so he was comfortable freeing some skin in order to work more efficiently. While it was an adventure of a lifetime to sail with his brother on the Stan O' War II, Ford found it extremely rewarding to build something bigger than a hand-held invention and to do it for two people he loved very much.

Dipper and Mabel would be back in Gravity Falls in a few hours, and when they came back, they would find a huge "Beginning of Summer" party waiting for them at the lake and a new treehouse in the woods. Stanley first snorted and said the teenagers were too old for a treehouse, but then Ford showed him the blueprints and the old conman agreed to help.

This treehouse was located about two or three rows of trees away from the Mystery Shack, enough to give a brooding teenager privacy if wanted, and it had three sections and a small deck for fresh air. The middle section was designed to be a shared space between the twins, but then they each had their own space, Dipper's host a work-deck and a bookshelf while Mabel's had a rocking chair (made by Ford himself and decorated with birds, gnomes, pinetrees, and other things one would find in the woods, carved into the soft, polished wood) and drawers for art supplies. There were no walls separating the sections, but Ford did have curtains that could be drawn for alone-time if desired. The whole treehouse was furnished, decorated, and ready to go, except for the last wall.

Stan walked up to the old okay tree with a glass of lemonade in his hands. He gave a low whistle. "Lookin' good, Sixer."

"Stanley!" Ford scolded from the treehouse. "You were supposed to be helping me!"

"I did help you!" Stan argued. "I made the walls and got the stuff up there! Now, I've been resting, the way old men should be, which hey, have you seen Soos' new attractions? Genius! I dunno where he gets these ideas!"

Ford rolled his eyes and had a small smile on his lips. "Fine, fine, just get up here, you knucklehead, and help me with his last wall."

"You got it." Stan sat the lemonade down on the grass and climbed up in his Hawaiian shirt and tanned shorts. "Right, so what do we do?"

"I got it all set up." Ford explained. "See, it's a pulley system. We just pull on his rope and the last wall will swing up, then I'll screw it into place."

"Right, gotcha." Stan said and grabbed the thick rope hanging above him. "Okay, ready?"

Ford grabbed the rope, as well. "Alright… pull!"

The two men worked together to pull the rope and it worked just as Ford said it would; the wall with a window came up into place just in front of the small deck (the deck was only big enough for either two small people to sit or one adult). With a small creak of wood coming together, the wall was in place.

"Hold it, Stanley."

"I'm holding it." Stan growled as he pulled on the rope tightly solo.

Ford quickly grabbed the power drill and used five-inch titanium screws to secure the wall; he didn't want Steve or a Manotaur to bring this treehouse down. When all fours screws had been placed, Stan testily let go of the rope and let it hang. Ford pushed heavily against the wall and smiled proudly at his work. "Great! We're all done!"

"Hot tamales, the kids are gonna love this place!" Stan punched Ford's shoulder lightly. "Kinda envy 'em, we sure didn't have a cool treehouse like this when we were kids."

"Yes we did, it was just shaped like a boat and on the beach."

Stan laughed. "Right. So, ready for the party?"

"Yes, just let me put away the…" Ford was heading for the exit as he answered his brother, but he found there to be no exit. There was a door drawn on the wall by the window, but no door. Ford's eyes widened as he saw a dilemma that Stan had not yet seen. His temper boiling steadily, Ford turned to Stan, who was admiring the homemade rocking chair, with his hands held so he wouldn't strangle the old conman, and the old scientist asked coldly, "Stanley?"

"Yeah."

"Where's the door-hole?"

Stan looked up and pointed at the wall. "Right there, I drew it in."

Ford could feel a vein popping out of his forehead. "You were supposed to cut it out with the power saw!"

"Geez, Poindexter, relax!" Stan defended with his hands up in surrender. "I was gonna, just like I did with all the windows, but Wendy came to me and said Soos was doing something stupid and to grab a camera, so I decided I'd cut the door-hole later."

"Oh, really?"

"Yes!"

Ford nodded towards the wall. "So go do it. Right now."

"Fine, I will," Stan growled. "Moses, when did you get so bossy?" Stan stopped when he reached the wall and realized he couldn't leave to get the power saw. He tested the wall and looked around the treehouse, ignoring Ford's death glare. "I see the problem."

"Oh, DO YOU?!" Ford yelled sarcastically.

"Okay, okay, so what do we do?!" Stan asked. "The little twerps are gonna be here in three hours and we gotta be at the bus stop when that happens!"

"I know, Stanley, I know." Ford held his forehead as he tried to think. "I… oh! I'll just unscrew this wall so you can get down and cut the door-hole." He picked up the power drill and turned it on. He was just about to unscrew the first screw, when it shut off.

"What happened?" Stan asked.

"I… I have no idea." Ford clicked the tool several times, but the drill would not turn on. He looked out the small window and all Stan heard was a loud, "You have got to be KIDDING me!"

"What, lemme see!" Stan shoved Ford out of the way and looked through the little window to see a deer munching on the cord that connected the drill all the way to an outside outlet of the shack. "Oh, COME ON! Hey! Get outta here! Shoo!" And the deer scampered off.

Ford dropped the useless drill. "Great, just great, you couldn't have cut one simple exit, Stanley?!"

"Hey, you're the idiot who didn't notice there wasn't a door-hole until it was too late!"

"You didn't notice it, either! And now we're gonna miss the niblings getting back!"

"No, we are not!" Ford said stubbornly. "We're going to find a way out of here and we WILL be there on time!"

"And how are we gonna do that?!"

Ford ran a six-fingered hand through his fluffy charcoal-gray hair and seriously evaluated the situation. "Alright, this… let's see… the walls are too thick to cut through with a swiss-army knife. The drill isn't going to work. If we could either get the power saw or have the power drill working again we could get out of here."

"Right, so how do we do either of those things?" Stan asked.

Ford leaned against the wall by the window and peered outside as he thought of a good answer. His eyes widened and he shoved his head out the window. "Mr. Gleeful! Gideon!"

The white-haired chubby child stopped walking towards the Mystery Shack and looked towards the voice. He walked towards the treehouse, all dressed up in his light-blue suit and said, "Well, Stanford! Good to see you again! My, my, what a treehouse!"

"Thank you, but unfortunately, we're stuck." Ford said. "Listen, could you hand us the power saw so Stanley and I can get out of here?"

"Heavens to Betsy, no!" Gideon gasped with ah and to his heart. "Carrying a sharp saw up a tree is too dangerous for wittle ole me!"

Ford pinched the bridge of his nose. "Fair enough, but will you at least, please, plug that extra cord to the power drill and then plug it into the shack?"

Gideon smiled and pointed at the old man. "That I can certainly do, Dr. Pines."

"Good, hurry it up." Stan growled from inside the treehouse, his arms crossed over his chest.

Gideon had just picked up the dark-green extension cord when a joyful jingle met his ears. "Oo! The ice cream truck!" The kid squealed as he squished his cheeks with his hands, dropping the cord.

"Gideon!" Stan roared and made Ford move from the window so he could scowl at the kid properly. "Now you listen to me, you little troll, you better plug up the screw driver or I swear I'll…"

"Stanley," Ford said warningly, reminding him that they were actually on somewhat good terms with the demon-child.

Gideon smiled smugly. "You know, I think I'll let you cool down a bit in that nice ole treehouse. I'll be back after some ice cream." And he started to walk away.

"GIDEON!" Stan yelled. "GIDEON!"

Ford shoved Stan out of the way so he could yell out the window. "GIDEON!"

Stan shoved Ford out of the way so he could yell out the window. "GIDEON!"

"GIDEON!"

"GIDEON!"

"GIDEON!"

Stan punched the wall angrily and then yelled and shook his hand to reveal himself of the prickling pain. Ford slumped to the floor and sighed. "Guess we just have to trust he'll come back."

Stan raised an eyebrow at him. "You realize he's not coming back right?"

"I know." Ford moaned.

And so the two old men just sat around and tried to think of a way out of the treehouse. What really irked them was that this was a simple trap; this wasn't like a heavily-guarded government facility or an alien prison, both of which the Pines twins had escaped from; this was a homemade treehouse for their niece and nephew with four windows and no door and no way out. Stan eventually sat in Mabel's new rocking chair, reading a book from Dipper's bookshelf, and Ford paced between the three sections of the small shelter in the oak tree.

Stan checked his watch. "We got two hours to get outta here."

Ford growled and held his hair tightly. Then his eyes grew wide as a simple solution came to mind. "Wait! My cellular phone!" He yelled victoriously and pulled it out of his pocket. "I'll call for help!"

"You just now thought of that?!" Stan yelled.

"Well, where is your cellular phone, Stanley?!" Ford snapped back.

"It died so I left at the shack to charge."

Ford rolled his eyes and began dialing a number. "I'll call Soos and have him come help us."

"Great, let the handyman do his thing!" Stan said and watched as Ford called Soos and put it on speaker. It rang and rang, but no answer. Eventually Ford called a second time.

(None of them were aware that Soos had stepped into the shower before the big party and was now singing Disco Girl to the top of his lungs. "Dipper was right, it is catchy, dude!")

When Soos didn't answer the phone again, Ford guessed, "Maybe his phone also died."

"No, it didn't go straight to voicemail." Stan snatched the phone and said, "You probably dialed the wrong number, lemme try."

Ford took his phone back. "I think I know our handyman's phone number." He growled.

"Just lemme…"

"Stanley, back off!"

"Quit it!"

The two old men fought over the smartphone and even punched and shoved their opponents to try to get the valuable piece of technology, but then it slipped like a bar of soap out of their hands and flew out the window. Ford and Stan stared and then ran and crammed their faces together to see the phone had landed on the grass.

"Nicely done, Stanley."

"You're the one who couldn't get ahold of Soos!" Stan then lit up and asked, "Wait, what about your magnet gun?!"

"I left it in my coat." Ford said as he rolled down his sweater sleeves, no longer burning up from working so hard. "I don't even have my ray gun with me."

"What?! You always have that thing on you! You even take it in the shower!"

"Okay, one: I don't take my weapons with me in the shower, I leave them with my glasses on my towel." Ford defended, sticking a finger up, then he held up two fingers. "Two: you're always on my case about being paranoid!"

"Yeah, I don't want you to be paranoid! But I also don't want you to be an idiot!"

"This is coming from the man who couldn't cut a single door-hole."

"Okay, ya know what…!"

The pointless screaming match went on until they were both hoarse and burned out, resorting in Stan and Ford to lying on the floor of the little house and stare up at the ceiling.

Dipper smiled with his cheek pressed up against his hand as he stared out the bus-window. Mabel was bouncing in her seat, her legs swinging, and her hands gripping the seat. As each new landmark looked familiar, she squealed a little bit more.

"This is so exciting, Dipper!" Mabel cheered. "We're almost home!"

Dipper chuckled and looked at the distant mountains that were starting to appear. "We are almost home." Waddles turned over in his sleep and Dipper rubbed his belly to give him something to do alongside wonder what his great-uncles were doing right now.

"Man, I'm starving." Stan complained, lying with his brother lying opposite so they were shoulder-to-shoulder, but their bodies pointing away from each other; Stan's stomach growled loudly to prove his point.

"I have not eaten since noon." Ford looked at his own watch. "Dipper and Mabel will be here in an hour."

"And Gideon still hasn't come back." Stan growled. "Little troll probably forgot."

Ford sighed and knocked on the wooden floor. "At least we know this treehouse is secure."

Stan snorted. "Yeah, you did a good job, Genius."

Ford smiled. "Thank you. You did help and provide necessary skills, and that was very appreciated."

"Yeah, yeah." Stan waved away and then let his hand collapse on his gut. "And, hey, while were here, what made you wanna build this in the first place?"

The eldest twin shrugged (as much as one can when lying down). "I wanted to do something nice for the kids."

"I think they would much rather see you than get all this." Stan teased.

Ford chuckled nervously. "You're probably right."

"Hey, a broken clock is right twice a day."

Ford sat up and asked, "Did you hear that?"

"Relax, it's not some monster, that's just my stomach again."

"No, Stanley," Ford stood up and looked out the window on the left wall, the section of the treehouse designed for Dipper, and gasped, "Mr. Shmebulock! Mr. Shmebulock! Over here!"

Stan got up and joined his brother. Sure enough, sitting on a tree branch and munching on an acorn was an old speechless gnome. He smiled at the sight of the old Pines men and cheered, "Shmebulock!"

"Yes, hello!" Ford held out his hand and the gnome, who was about the same size as Ford's six-fingered hand, sat and allowed the human to bring him into the treehouse. "Listen, we need your help. We're trapped here and Mabel and Dipper will be back any moment now. Can you…"

"Shmebulock?" The gnome gasped with smiling eyes.

"Yes, Mabel and Dipper are returning, so we need you… hey!" The gnome had hopped off Ford's hand and then climbed down the tree and started to scamper away. "Mr. Shmebulock! Mr. Shmebulock, please!"

"Get back here you little pest!" Stan demanded, but the gnome had gone off to greet the niblings when they returned. "If you try to make my niece your queen again I'll…"

"Stanley, let it go." Ford moaned and collapsed into the chair of Dipper's desk. "What do we do now?"

Stan leaned against the wall and crossed his arms over his chest. "What can we do?"

No one had an answer for either question.

Right on time, at six o'clock, the bus pulled up to the stop in Gravity Falls, Oregon. Dipper and Mabel grinned with their luggage in hand, pig at their feet, and waiting at the steps of the bus, and they were greeted by Soos, Wendy, Candy, Grenda, Gideon, and Pacifica. The twins ran off the bus and jumped into their friends' arms. Soos wrapped each twin up in a big bear-hug, cutting off the air-flow in their necks, until Mabel was pulled into a girls' hug by Candy and Grenda and Wendy traded hats back with Dipper; he had enjoyed Wendy's ushanka even in the warm California sun, but it was good to sport his pinetree cap again.

"We missed you guys SO much!" Mabel cheered.

"You talked to us, like, every day." Pacifica said as she rolled her eyes.

"Yeah, but now I can attack you with love!" And the brunette wrapped the blonde up in a tight hug before she could be stopped.

"Hey, where's Grunkle Stan and Grunkle Ford?" Dipper asked casually.

"Yeah, the party can't start without them!" Mabel said.

"Don't worry, dudes," Soos reassured. "They're probably already at the party."

"OH NO!" Gideon yelled, slapping his cheeks in shock, and he turned red as he began to confess a mistake he had made for the sake of ice-cream.

Stan was hitting his forehead against the back wall of the treehouse. Ford knew he sometimes did this to try to think clearly. He just sat by the drawn-door and watched, having an idea of when he should intervene his brothers possibly harmful way of coming up with a plan.

"Stanley, this treehouse won't be very appealing if you manage to get blood on the wall."

Stan stopped and looked down at his watch. It was twenty minutes after the kids were supposed to be back. "Alright, that's it!" He yelled, a new wave of adrenaline coursing through him as the idea of not seeing the kids drove him crazy. "That's it! We're finding a way outta here!"

"How?" Ford asked.

"You could try asking for help."

The men were frozen, but then fought over who could look out the window first until they resorted to sharing. Sure enough, Dipper and Mabel stood at the foot of the oak tree with their little group of friends behind them, all biting their lip and snickering.

"KIDS!"

"Wow, cool man-cave, guys!" Mabel called.

"Yeah, this gives the Manotaurs a run for their money." Dipper sneered.

"Just shut up and get us outta here so I can hug you two knuckleheads!" Stan yelled.

Mabel saluted and said, "Yes sir! C'mon, Soos you make sure the sax's plugged in, Dipper and I will go up there!"

"Hold it!" Wendy called out, then pulled out her phone and took a quick picture of the old men trapped in the treehouse. "Hehe, blackmail."

"You're fired."

"You've fired me fifteen times, Stan, and I'm still here." Wendy replied coolly.

The kids all laughed as Dipper and Mabel climbed up to the small deck, Wendy handed them the saw, Soos made sure it was plugged in, and then Dipper and Mabel called out a warning and started to cut an exit. Stan and ford backed up as the younger pair of twins carefully cut a door-shaped hole and soon a big piece of wood fell forward, freeing the older pair of twins.

Mabel blew on the saw, which was unplugged by Soos to make sure it was safe, and then she asked, "Now where's that hug we were promised?"

She ditched the saw and ran with her brother into Ford and Stan's arms as they got on their knees and were happily reunited for another summer.

[magicallygrimmwiccan]

But If I Did (You’d Be The One)

Summary: It's Meet the Family dinner, and Wirt is terrified.Written for @pinesconeweek2019 Day 2: "So... welcome to the family."

Notes: Enjoy the angst and the fluff.Also, Bill's not... like, he's not a good guy here? He's a Chaotic Neutral Little Shit who's kind of the live-in weird older brother type.

Read on AO3

“I’m just going to warn you, they’re a bit weird, but they won’t hurt you!” Dipper assured, a big smile practically plastered onto his face. “I mean, you’ve already met Mabel!”

“Yes, and Mabel is absolutely terrifying!” Wirt exclaimed— not whimpered, not at all, no sir— as he ran a hand through his messy brown hair. He was going to meet Dipper’s family tonight. He was going to enter the Pines household and subject himself to the judgement of Dipper’s loved ones. This was not going to go well, he could feel it in his bones.

“Mabel is a bit much, but she likes you,” Dipper soothed, his smile falling slightly back to his normal soft, lop-sided one. “And you’ll like Grunkle Ford, he’s really smart. Grunkle Stan is a bit weird, but he’s got a good heart. And Bill… well, Bill might not even be there?”

“From what you’ve told me about Bill, that’s not comforting,” Wirt mumbled, moving to play with the sleeves of his sweater instead of his hair. He didn’t want to mess it up further.

“... I mean, fair?” Dipper shrugged and stepped back, sticking his hands into his pockets. “So, um… do you want me to cancel tonight, or…?”

“No, no! I’ll be fine, just… just nervous.”

“Understandable,” Dipper giggled, “but nothing bad is going to happen. Trust me.”

___________________________________

“So, you’re Pine Tree’s ‘boyfriend’, yes?” the tall blonde drawled, slinging an arm over Wirt’s shoulders. Wirt gulped and clutched his tea closer to his chest, simply nodding in response. “Cool. Why?”

“... why me, or why boyfriend, or…?”

“Why is he dating you?” Wirt bit his lip and looked towards the floor. He asked himself that question every day, and he’d always been scared to ask Dipper to answer it. After all, he was weird. He was quiet, and paranoid, and spoke better through poetry than in actual conversation. He was a terrible boyfriend, so why was Dipper still around him?

“I don’t… I don’t know?” Wirt mumbled. “I just… don’t know why he sticks around me.”

The demon’s eyes narrowed and he stepped back, frowning down at Wirt. “Huh. Wasn’t expecting that.” Wirt looked up, confused, and Bill continued. “I mean, I know for a fact Pine Tree loves you, because he literally never shuts up about you and is sappy and it’s honestly torturous.”

“Oh… so…”

“Even if you don’t think so, I’m pretty sure he likes you.” Bill smiled at him. “Now go be gross and mushy with Pine Tree, I have to help Mabel with dinner.” Wirt nodded and practically ran from the room, escaping from one of the most awkward conversations of his life.

He turned the corner and slid into a chair at the dinner table next to Dipper, who looked up and smiled at him. “Hey, you,” he murmured, “how’s it going?”

“I was right and Bill is really weird,” Wirt announced, shivering. “And I hope he’s the worst one.”

“... sure.”

“Dipper, I love you, but what the fuck.”

_________________________________________

“So, Wirt… what do you do?” Stanley Pines asked, practically glaring at Wirt from across the table. Wirt squirmed and looked over at Dipper, who was currently deep in a discussion with Bill. He thought they were talking about different kinds of demons, but he wasn’t quite sure. He wasn’t sure he wanted to know for sure.

“I, uh… I-I work at the library…?” Wirt mumbled. Stanley sat back, nodded once, and returned to his dinner, leaving one of the other Pines to take over the duty of Giving Wirt A Heart Attack. That person was Mabel, who leaned forward with a devious smile on her face.

“What’s the most embarrassing thing Dipper’s done around you so far?” she giggled, eyes sparkling.

Wirt felt the blood rush to his cheeks and he shook his head frantically. “I- I’m not telling you that. That- that’s wrong.” Mabel pouted, but Wirt refused to budge. He wasn’t going to embarrass Dipper in front of his family.

“Aw, come on, it’s not that-” Mabel was interrupted by something crashing through the wall, screeching. Everyone bolted to their feet, and the Pines all reached for some form of weapon while Wirt sat there, frozen. All he could see was black branches dripping oil, Greg wrapped in branches mere inches from death, a deep, haunting song-

“Get away from him!” Dipper screeched, tackling Wirt to the ground in the process. Wirt coughed, all the air being forced from his lungs at once, as his memories began to blur together with current reality. He heard the sounds of a scuffle mingled with a rich baritone voice singing about death. He saw flashes of blue fire twined with oily trees. He felt the wood floor beneath him, but he could also swear he felt snow stinging his face. Briefly, he felt someone cup his face in his hands and shake him slightly, but he couldn’t hear what they said or see who it was, too lost in his own purgatory of memories.

“Wirt, sweetie, it’s okay, talk to me, it’s gone, you’re okay!” Wirt blinked, groaning, and shook his head, finally managing to bring the person in front of him into focus. It was Dipper, tears clinging to his eyelashes as he wiped at Wirt’s cheeks with his thumbs, clearing his tears from his cheeks.

“D-dipper…?” Wirt mumbled, voice a bit hoarse for some reason.

“Yeah, I’m here,” Dipper soothed. “I’m sorry, if you don’t ever want to see me again, that’s okay, I just… I’m just glad you’re okay.”

“... why would I never want to see you again?” Wirt asked, sitting up a bit more with Dipper’s help.

“Uh… because I deal with monsters a lot, and some of them are awful, and you were screaming…”

“I was screaming?” That explained why his voice was hoarse.

“Yeah, uh… we think you were seeing something terrible…”

“That was a demon that fed on trauma,” Bill broke in. “It’s something semi-common around this family.”

“That… that doesn’t mean I’m leaving,” Wirt assured, finally managing to stand. “Yeah, it sucked, but… but it’s not going to make me leave.”

“Are you sure? No one would blame you if you did,” Dipper murmured, hugging Wirt closer to his chest. Wirt nodded, eyes closing a bit as he pressed a kiss into Dipper’s messy curls.

“I’m sure. You’re not getting rid of me that easily, Dipper Pines.” Dipper let out a short giggled and pulled away to look Wirt in the eye, beaming.

“So… welcome to the family.”

[optimistic-violinist]

Gravity Falls (and so does Stan)

Tada!!! It’s finally done!! The lovely @pessimisticvirtuoso commissioned me for angst feat. Ford mourning Stan. Enjoy! Or cry! Or both!

Warnings: major character death, description of injuries (nothing gory or in detail)

Words: ~2000

Commission prices here!

The morning dawned bright and early for Stan. Awoken by the sound of what sounded like a raccoon (or a beautiful man), trashing his kitchen, he got up and meandered out of his room, broom in hand, ready to confront whatever he found.

It was not a raccoon or a beautiful man trashing his kitchen, but his own brother. Ford had his sweater sleeves rolled up to his elbows and was frantically fanning the burning pan of what Stan thought might have at one point been eggs.

“Ford, what are you doing? You know you can’t cook.”

“Yes, well, I thought I’d surprise you.”

“Consider me surprised. When did you get up?”

“Around 3. I was too excited to go back to sleep.”

“Excited- why were you- THE KIDS!!”

Ford nodded, grinning enthusiastically. “They get back today.”

Stan hurried back to his room to get ready for the day. He was so excited to see his niblings, he could barely stand it. No wonder Ford had been up so long.

“We should do something special for them,” Stan said, taking the egg pan from Ford and gesturing for him to grab some plates.

“Way ahead of you. I just remembered that in the caves behind the waterfall there are these luminescent rocks! They glow quite brightly and are said to change color depending on the mood of whoever touches them. I was thinking we could get some to decorate their room with.”

“Great idea Sixer. Let me salvage breakfast and then we can go.”

“Shall I tell Soos where we’re going?”

“Nah, I’ll just leave him a note for when he gets in today. We won’t be gone too long.”

“Very well. I’ll go gather the equipment we need while you finish salvaging the breakfast as you put it.”

Ford narrowly missed the spoonful of egg that was thrown at him as he ducked out of the room and couldn’t help but laugh. He was looking forward to going back to the caves. It was a beautiful little ecosystem all its own. There were some sketchy bits they would have to climb, but it was nothing they couldn’t handle.

It was shaping up to be the perfect day.

“Stan! STAN!” Ford waited, praying for an answer from his brother, but he was met only with silence. “STAN!” His desperate scream echoed off the cave walls and down the gulf that split the cavern floor. The remains of the rope bridge they had crossed- almost crossed- now dangled uselessly down the hole.

Everything had been fine.

And then, in an instant, it wasn’t.

Crossing the rope bridge the first time had been fine. Crossing it the second time, they were laden with rocks, joking and laughing and just oh so excited to see their favorite niblings in the whole world. Stan bumped into him from behind, laughing at something Ford had said, when the bridge started swinging dangerously.

“Woah!”

And then came the unmistakable sound of a rope snapping. They had just an instant, a single moment of eye contact, before Stan shoved Ford forward onto stable ground before the bridge gave way completely and Stan fell into the abyss.

“Stan!” Ford called again, crawling to the very edge and peering down. “Stan, answer me!”

He held his breath, straining his ears for any sort of sound when he heard, ever so faintly, a cough and a quiet, sarcastic, “No.”

Ford could have cried. “I’m coming! Hang on!”

How to do it, how to do it? Ford had some rope on him, but would it reach to the bottom? How deep was the chasm? What sort of state was Stan in? Should he go get help?

Wait! Struck with inspiration, Ford lunged for the backpack and dug through it, triumphantly pulling out the “shrink-ray” Dipper had made. He could use that on Stan if he needed to. He shoved it back in the pack and slung it on his shoulder, keeping the rope in his hand. Trying to keep his hands from shaking, Ford tied the rope to the post and began to rappel down… and down… and down.

Stan had been the one with the lantern. The light from the entrance of the cave ((they had been so close)), quickly faded as he descended further.

“Stan? Can you hear me?” he called. He didn’t have much rope left.

“Yeah.” The voice was strained, most definitely in pain, and relievingly close.

“Hang on,” Ford breathed. He shimmied down, until he was just holding the rope with his hands, legs and torso dangling, and dropped.

Ford grunted as he landed; it felt like it was around a ten foot drop, maybe a bit more. He could hear Stan breathing close by, but it was pitch black down here. Ford dug through the back pack and pulled out some of the rocks, causing them to light up with a startling rich purple and green, bringing some light to the dismal scene.

Ford glanced around and felt like a bucket of cold water had been poured down his spine. He and Stan were perched on a ledge about ten feet long that extended maybe three feet before continuing to drop into nothing. Ford took a shuddering breath before turning around and crawling over to Stan.

It was bad, oh it was so, so bad. “I’m here, Stan, I’m here, I made it.”

He lay on his side, legs badly twisted- he must have landed on them. The arm he lay on had to be broken too. And who could guess what the internal damage was like. It had to have been at least a three story drop, if not more- there had to be internal damage. What were they going to do?

Ford’s panicked train of thought was cut off as Stan whispered, “Ford, I can’t feel my legs.”

Ford swore. He crawled around to Stan’s head. Oh gosh, there was blood.

“Broken spine most likely,” he muttered. “Oh Stan, I’m so sorry.”

“Wasn’t your fault Sixer. What do you think? Can we-“ He stopped, cut off by a vicious cough. Blood mixed with saliva came out, staining the ground beside him. The rock Ford was holding spiked red before toning back down to deep purple. “Can we get out of here?”

“I have the shrink ray. I could shrink you and put you in my pocket or in the backpack, but I don’t know-“ His breath hitched. “I don’t know if your condition is stable enough. I could go and get help, but I don’t know how long that would take and-“

“It’s okay, it’s… it’s too late, okay?”

“Stan, no. Do not say that. We’ll get you out. The-the kids! The kids are coming tonight, remember? You have to be there to- you have to be there to see them.”

“Ford.” Ford stopped. “Just… just hold me. Stay, for a minute.”

“I-“ When had he started to cry? “Okay.”

He readjusted himself, gently lifting Stan’s head to rest in his lap and intertwining his six fingers with Stan’s good hand. The fingers on his broken arm twitched. Ford pulled the backpack closer and pulled out another rock, setting it next to Stan’s hand. His fingers brushed it and it pulsed with a bright yellow light. It was calming, comforting. Ford pulled a couple more closer and the chasm lit up.

“Do you remember that kraken we fought on our second day out at sea?”

“Y-yeah. It came out of nowhere.”

“I harpooned it right in the eye,” Stan boasted. “And we laughed about it.”

“Yeah…” Ford trailed off. “Do you remember the yeti that helped us when we got lost?”

“They were nice. Gotta say I prefer the merfolk though.” Ford snorted.

“Of course you do.”

They were silent for a moment, letting the warmth of the light and shared memories wash over them.

“We never did find any pirates though.”

“Unless you want to count your old cartel buddies.”

“Yeah, no,” Stan laughed and coughed. Ford quirked an eyebrow as the light faded from yellow to a light blue. “I’m sorry.”

“What for?”

“This,” he scoffed. “Everything. Just… everything.”

“Stan, you have nothing to apologize for. We’ve talked about this.”

“I know, I know, but I just wanted to make sure you knew.”

“I do. I do Stan. And… thank you. Thank you Stan, for everything.”

Stan’s breath hitched and the blue brightened to lavender.

“Without you,” Ford continued. “I wouldn’t have made it back. I wouldn’t have met the kids. We wouldn’t have defeated Bill. You saved my life just now! Everything I have… as counter intuitive as it may seem… I have because of you. So, thank you.”

They were both crying now. Stan’s breaths were getting shallower. His breathing hitched again and he shifted, letting out a hiss of pain. He squeezed Ford’s hand tight.

“I love you Sixer. And tell the kids and Soos and Wendy- all of ‘em- that I love ‘em.”

“Stan-“

“Tell them.”

A pause. A breath. A sigh. “I will. I love you too Stan.”

Ford waited for a reply, some sort of quip, something, but instead the golden and lavender light began to fade far too quickly and, within seconds, went out completely, leaving Ford in the dark and the silence.

Like a wave crashing into him, a sob tore from his throat and echoed off the cavern walls. His best friend, his brother, this couldn’t have happened. Shouldn’t have happened. Ford continued to sob, tears raining down, landing on his glasses, falling off the end of his nose. He sniffled, trying to ease the tightness in his throat- he had to do something, needed to do something!

He needed to mourn.

Another sob burst out followed by who knew how many more. Ford didn’t know how long he sat there, Stan’s head heavy on his lap. Eventually though, his crying quieted; there was more in him, but now it could wait. He had to get back to the Shack- had to get Stan’s body- he could barely stand to think about it and the tears started fresh.

This time he paused when he realized the light was coming back. The stone next to Stan’s hand began to flicker with a pale yellow, almost green, light. What on earth? Don’t- don’t give me hope.

Stan’s finger twitched and something sparked blue and Ford’s hope began to melt into unease. Stan’s eye snapped open to reveal a slit pupil, the rest of it a burning yellow, that rolled until it focused on Ford and he smiled.

Ford reeled back, every other feeling replaced with a primal fear and the urge to get away because that was not Stan and it couldn’t- it couldn’t be-

Not-Stan stood on his broken legs and brushed himself off.

“Heya Sixer. Been a while, huh? Miss me?”

[brightdrawings]

Breakfast and Catch-up (Theme: Love/Bonding)

It’s time for @stanuary week 1! Love/bonding. have some classic Fiddstan Set in the mystery Trio au!

(also on ao3!)

Stanley looked up from the stove in time to see Fiddleford rubbing the sleep from his eyes as he walked into the kitchen. The engineer gave a non-committal nod as he took his seat at the kitchen table. The smell of eggs filled the air and the sizzling of bacon made Fiddleford’s stomach grumble something fierce.

“Breakfast will be ready in a couple of minutes,” Stanley said. He flipped a pancake onto a plate next to the stove.

“Well it smells divine.” Fiddleford said. His sandy blond hair was a mess that he couldn't  be bothered to fix this early in the morning.

Stan reached for the coffee pot and poured out two steaming hot mugs. “How many sugars?” he asked.

“Two please.” Fiddleford rubbed the last grains of sleep from his eyes.

“Coming right up,” Stanley put in two spoons of sugar into the mug with gear pattern. He walked over to the stove and placed the mug next to a plate stacked high with pancakes, with a side of bacon and eggs. Stanley set the plate and mug in front of fiddleford. He pecked Fiddleford’s forehead before making his own breakfast.

“How’d you sleep Fiddlenerd?” Stanley asked. He took a seat opposite Fiddleford.

“Refreshing,” Fiddleford got to work at his food. “You really outdid yourself this time darling.”

Stanley beamed. He started up with his own meal. It had been quite a while since he was able to sit down and enjoy a meal without having to worry about some magical beast bursting through the window and declaring war against them for stepping on some ancient flower of ultimate power or something.

He had met fiddleford a little while before Ford had called Fiddleford over for some help with some interuniversal portal or something. With nothing better to do Stan agreed to come with. Firstly to help with heavy lifting that might come up, and secondly to stare in awe at his boyfriend’s work. However meeting his estranged twin upon arriving wasn’t what he had expected. If Fiddleford hadn’t stood his ground and forced both Pines twins to talk out their issues Stanley wasn’t sure what would he would have done.

“So how did you meet the nerd?” Stanley asked after a beat. He rested his head in his hand, his elbow sitting against the table.

“We’ve been dating for how long and you’re only asking how I met my boss and got my job now?” Fiddleford raised his eyebrow.

“We’ve been busy,” Stanley replied. “What with the whole ‘making up for ruining his chance at his dream school’ and that goblin attack.”

“Gremloblin,” Fiddleford corrected.

“Yeah, that. Now back to the question, how did you meet my brother?” Stanley pressed.

“If you must know, we were roommates in college.” Fiddleford said. He took a sip of his coffee, making sure not to meet Stan’s eye.

“Roommates eh? Did you two ‘study’ together? What did you ‘study’? Nerdomics? Klingon? “ Stanley waited for Fiddleford to be halfway through his gulp of coffee before making his next assumption. “Biology?”

Fiddleford spat out his coffee. “Stanley Pines! Just what in the lord’s name are you insinuating?”

“What? My brother studies fairies and trolls, he’s obviously have to study how bodies and stuff work.” Stanley blinked innocently. He’d have to clean up that coffee stain from the floor but the look on Fiddleford face was worth it.

“Right-right. Well, not necessarily. I didn’t study biology myself, but Stanford did need some help with his studies and assignments. And if’n I was able to help I would,” Fiddleford recalled. “And in turn he’d help me out with my engineering studies.”

“A bit of ‘I scratch your back you scratch mine?’” Stanley smirked.

“If you call staying up until 3 am for three nights in a row ‘scratching his back’ then yes.” Fiddleford rolled his eyes.

“I don’t know, that sounds pretty productive if you ask me.” Stan smirked.

“If you’re trying to ask if your brother and I were in a relationship you can just say it,” Fiddleford said flatly.

“Aw, but I wanted to tease you more,” Stanley pouted. He took a sip of his coffee.

“Your dancing around the bush was about as subtle as a baseball bat to the face,” Fiddleford said. “And It’s way too early to be dealing with any of that.” He took a very quick sip of his coffee. He didn’t want a repeat of earlier.

“Fine fine, so that's how you scratched his back, how’d he pay you back?” Stanley asked. “From what I’ve heard, your dorms were terrible in winter. Did you two find an ‘economical’ way to stay warm?”

“Ya got me once Stanley, it ain’t happening again.” Fiddleford said. “And let me answer your question with a question, do you ever wonder why your brother always wears long sleeved shirts?”

“Because he somehow thought that Carl Sagan was a Fashion pioneer instead of the nerd he really was?” Stanley asked.

“For someone who claims to enjoy having fun you sure do like to suck the fun out other people, you know that?” Fiddleford asked.

“Oh, I’m well aware.” Stanley smirked. “But because I’m nice I’ll take the bait. Why does Ford wear long sleeved shirts all the time?”

“I don’t feel like telling you anymore.” Fiddleford look away childishly.

“Oh c’mon, don’t be like that,” Stanley said. He walked over to Fiddleford’s side to coddle him. “You know I was just kidding, right?”

“Well i don’t want an inattentive audience when i’m telling my stories,” Fiddleford turned his head away and crossed his arms.

“Come on Fiddlesticks, I really mean it,” Stanley took the seat next to Fiddleford. “I promise I‘ll listen this time.” “Your words are as empty as your stomach, Stanley Pines,” Fiddleford said dramatically. He stared Stanley down, but was thrown off by his boyfriend’s grin. “What’s so funny, Mr. Heckler?”

“Empty as my stomach eh?” Stanley asked. He nodded to his empty plate of pancakes. “You sure about that one?”

“That doesn’t prove anything. You’d put the the bottomless hole we have outside to shame,” FIddleford said.

“It’s a gift,” Stanley beamed.

“At least I don’t have to worry about throwing away food scraps anymore,” Fiddleford said.

“So, you were going to tell me a story about my brother hiding something with shirts?” Stan asked. “I’m not sure if I’m willing to tell you.” Fiddleford smirked.

“Hmm, maybe I could make it worth your while?” Stanley asked.

“Stanley, are you suggesting a bribe?” Fiddleford asked in mock shock.

“I think I might have something to fit the bill,” Stanley grinned. He leaned forward and kissed Fiddleford’s cheek. The engineer giggled as the scruff on Stan’s chin tickled him.

“You were right.” Fiddleford said. He scooted his chair closer so that he could lean against stan’s chest. “That definitely fit the bill.”

“So can I hear the story or not?” Stanley asked after a beat. Fiddleford gotten half way through his pancakes and hadn’t said a word.

Fiddleford took another bite of his pancakes.

“What are you waiting for a kiss on the cheek?” Stan asked.

“Another one wouldn’t hurt,” Fiddleford grinned.

“You set me up,” Stan frowned.

“And they said it’s impossible to out-con a conman,” Fiddleford smirked. Stanley rolled his eyes before kissing fiddleford’s cheek.

“Happy?”

“Very,” Fiddleford grinned.

Fiddleford finished off his breakfast before diving into his tale.

“I was low on parts for my engineering major, and my deadline was breathing down my back,” he began. “Your brother had helped me test out the prototypes but those… didn’t turn out too well.”

“Did they explode?” Stanley asked.

“Not in any way that would be entertaining. Half the time they just started to smoke and we’d have to get the fire extinguisher.” Fiddleford said. “Anyway, we got wind that the science department were planning on throwing out some equipment. And that stuff just happened to have the parts I needed. So Stanford and I got suited up, you should have seen your brother, he got a black sweater and beanie for the occasion.”

“You’re saying that as if you didn’t have a mask and a striped black and white shirt as well.” Stanley accused.

“I thought it would have been appropriate to dress to fit the occasion,” Fiddleford said. “As I was saying, we made our way to the science building in the dead of night.  It was so dark we couldn’t see our hands in front of our faces. Stanford was saying something about anti-theft lights that made everything hard to see. Turns out we were just in the shadow of the building.” “Ha! He would think that.” Stanley said smugly.

“Well we walked into the building.” Fiddleford said.

“You just walked in? No security? No security guards? No cameras?” Stan asked.

“Our college advertised ‘roach free dormitories’.” Fiddleford scowled. “This was granted by handing out a free can of insect spray on our first day.”

“Sounds like my kind of place.” Stanley smirked.

“Let’s just say they probably didn’t have the budget for any kind of serious security detail.” FIddleford said. “A I was saying, we walked in, no problem. In fact the equipment was right by the door in the hallway.”

“Sounds too convenient,” Stanley said.

“It was a stroke of luck!” Fiddleford said, pretending that he hadn’t heard Stan’s comment. “But lo and behold the night guard was on his patrol.”

“I thought you said there weren’t any guards,” Stan squinted.

“To be fair, in hindsight they were probably a janitor. But I’m the storyteller here and I decide the roles.” Fiddleford resumed. “Stanford was panicking but didn’t know squat about what parts I needed, so I had him to hold the flashlight for me while I quickly pulled the equipment apart for what I needed. And just as I got the last part free we heard the nightguard walking close by. So using our brilliant minds we dove behind the equipment just in time to avoid their spotlight.”

“Stanford was that daring? Now I wish I was there to see that.” Stanley smirked.

“Just as we heard them walked past; we made our way to sneak past the nightguard. Unfortunately Stanford, the old butterfingers that he was, dropped his flashlight.” He waved his arms as he spoke. “And to make things worse, the parts in my bag had leaked oil on to the floor. His flashlight cracked on the ground and was covered in oil. And when he turned it back on KABLOOEY! It blew up, setting his black sweater on fire and burning his arms terribly.”

“Ha! That’s rich.” Stanley wiped a tear from his eye while slamming his hand on the table. “Fidds you’re a riot,” he said between chuckles.

“And he’s been hiding his arms in shame ever since,” Fiddleford said.

After he finally caught his breath Stanley clapped Fiddleford on the shoulder. “Fidds, that was amazing. But one problem.”

“What’s that?” Fiddleford asked.

“We both saw Stanford with his sleeves rolled up,” Stanley said. “And if memory served we both teased him for having such smooth arms that pixies could use them as a slide.”

“Well I never said it was a true story,” Fiddleford pouted.

The tipped Stanley over the edge. He erupted into laughter once more. He kicked the ground and slammed his fist on to the table, knocking the utensils around in his hysterics. His barking laugh filled the air, Fiddleford himself couldn’t stop himself from joining in. And in a few short minutes the pair had fallen off their seats.

“That was a good laugh.” Stanley said.

“I needed that,” Fiddleford coughed. He wiped away a tear.

“My little Fiddlesticks out conned me. Twice! I’m so proud.” Stanley said. He placed his hand on his heart. “I think that deserves a reward.”

“My my, what have you got in mind?” Fiddleford smirked. He crawled over so that he was sitting on Stan’s lap.

“There’s that sci-fi flick that came out a while ago. We could go check out together,” Stanley offered.

“I thought you hated sci-fi,” Fiddleford said.

“It’s also a horror flick. I’ll get to have you cuddle up to me when the big monster jumps out,” Stanley said with a smirk.

“After the hunts that Stanford’s had us go through? I doubt some goo-covered rubber costume will get my goat,” Fiddleford said.

“Wanna bet?” Stanley asked.

“Who ever screams first has to be the winner dinner,” Fiddleford declared. He offered his hand to Stan.

“You’re on McGucket,” Stanley shook fiddleford’s hand. “I hope you’re not too attached to your wallet.”

“We’ll See Stanley, we’ll see,” Fiddleford smiled.

[marypsue]

dubsdeedubs said:  lich + ford ´･ᴗ･ `

Once upon a time, I asked for prompts of a character and a monster, for which I would write a hundred-word drabble. This is...more than a hundred words, as you may be able to tell. Featuring major character undeath, Bill Cipher being Bill Cipher, a TAZ: Balance crossover, Greek mythology references, the Power of Mabel, and many many more words than I expected to write.

I’m also on AO3 as MaryPSue!

...

It takes barely any voltage at all to set Fordsy’s hair on fire.

It’s honestly a little disappointing. Keratin has no heat tolerance! And sheesh, does it ever whiff when it burns! It’s really inconsiderate of Fordsy, to stink up the place. Bill’s gonna have to punish him for that. As soon as he regains consciousness, of course. No fun in electrocuting somebody who isn’t awake to hate it!

Speaking of ‘being awake’, Sixer’s been hanging there with his head down for an ominously long time now. Bill gives his belly a poke, but the momentum just swings him limply back and forth, the chains giving a faint, pathetic clink-clink.

“You, uh, sure you didn’t break him there, boss?” Kryptos whines from somewhere behind Bill, and Bill can feel his faces heating up with rage. How dare that – that polygon question him? Bill Cipher?

“OF COURSE NOT!” he snaps. “I KNOW THIS HUMAN’S LIMITS BETTER THAN HE DOES! TESTED MOST OF ‘EM MYSELF!”

“Okay, but, he’s not doing a whole lot of screaming anymore.” Kryptos points one cautious finger around Bill, in Ford’s direction. “Or, um, moving.”

“KRYPTOS?” Bill says, cheerfully.

“Uh, yes, boss?”

“IF YOU DON’T SHUT UP I’LL FEED YOU TO PYRONICA,” Bill says, still cheerful, turning back to his favourite pet human.

Unfortunately, Kryptos is right about one thing – Sixer isn’t doing a whole lot of moving anymore. More just kind of…hanging there and smoking slightly.

Boooo-ring.

Bill snaps his fingers, and a crackling blue arc of electricity leaps out of his pointed index finger to earth itself in Ford’s chest. Ford gives a pretty lame reprisal of the old kicking-and-screaming routine, his legs wobbling feebly against thin air, his ‘scream’ more of a tortured groan. It’s like he isn’t even trying.

“C’MON, SIXER, PUT SOME OOMPH INTO IT!” Bill complains, cutting the lightshow short. “THIS IS GETTING OLD! HAHA! JUST LIKE YOU!”

The only response he gets is the faint hiss of the little fires still going in Fordsy’s hair. He’s gonna have a constellation of bald spots when this is over.

“AW, COME ON,” Bill coos, tucking one finger under Ford’s tiny chin and gently lifting it from his chest. “DON’T TELL ME YOU’RE STILL SULKING ABOUT THE WHOLE ME-LYING-TO-GET-YOU-TO-DESTROY-YOUR-ENTIRE-DIMENSION THING!”

Ford’s eyes, which had been half-closed and downturned like he was ignoring Bill, suddenly flick up to stare directly into Bill’s pupil. Bill nearly drops Ford’s bristly little face in surprise at the ring of flickering red wrapped around each iris.

“OOH, SIXER, YOU’VE BEEN HOLDING OUT ON ME!” Bill crows, delighted. “SHOULDA KNOWN YOU HAD ONE LAST TRICK UP YOUR SLEEVE! THAT’S WHAT I LIKE ABOUT YOU, HOW THAT FUNNY LITTLE MEAT BRAIN OF YOURS NEVER STOPS TICKING!”

“Get your hands off me, Cipher,” Ford growls, under his breath, and it seems to Bill to have harmonics that it could only have picked up by echoing through some of the more Escherian corners of the Fearamid. “Or I can’t be responsible for what happens next.”

“OH, I’M SO SCARED!” Bill laughs, rolling his eye. “WHAT’RE YOU GONNA DO TO ME, FORDSY, BITE MY KNEES OFF?”

When Ford’s eyes narrow, spitting red sparks, Bill can’t help but laugh again. “NO, SERIOUSLY, WHAT DO YOU THINK YOU’RE GONNA DO HERE? I’M ALREADY HERE! THIS DIMENSION’S AS GOOD AS MINE!” He throws his arms wide, gesturing to the whole of the Fearamid and his crew, the carnage outside, the enormous rift that dominates the yellow sky. “AND IF IT WAS THE MAIN COURSE, THEN YOUR LAWS OF PHYSICS MADE A NICE AFTER-DINNER MINT! A LITTLE BLACK MAGIC’LL BE THE PERFECT TOOTHPICK! BUT GO AHEAD! LAY IT ON ME!”

Ford starts to open his big mouth, probably to make some stupid speech about the power of friendship or something, and Bill zaps him again. Whatever he was about to say vanishes in a strangled half-scream as his whole body jerks, jittering like a marionette with its strings caught in a high-voltage power line.

Oh, wait. That’s exactly what he is!

“WELL?” Bill demands, in between zaps and the hoarse, exhausted noises of distress Ford keeps making. “DO YOUR WORST! REALLY LET ME HAVE IT, SIXER! SHOW ME WHAT YOU GOT! DON’T – HOLD – BACK!”

Ford’s body gives one final, enormous spasm, and then falls limp, his voice cutting out as his head falls backwards. One boot twitches, one shoulder jumps, but there’s no intelligence, no intention behind the movements. Just leftover electricity sparking frazzled nerves and jerking Ford’s limbs around like the puppet he is.

Bill twirls to face the audience of Henchmaniacs who’ve assembled to watch the fun, blowing across the tip of his pointed finger like he’s blowing smoke away from the barrel of a pistol. He quickly considers a variety of clever one-liners, discards them all just as quickly as not clever enough. “WELL, THAT WAS DISAPPOINTING! SOMEBODY GET ME ANOTHER MARTINI.”

Nobody laughs. Nobody cheers. Nobody raises a glass. They all just stare, with these stupefied expressions.

“WHAT? YOU’VE NEVER SEEN ME CRISPY-FRY A GUY ALIVE BEFORE?” Bill asks, looking over the assembled crew of nightmares and monsters.

“Uh, boss?” Kryptos quavers, slowly raising one hand, and that’s when Bill realises that those expressions of awe mingled with horrified respect aren’t aimed at him, but at something slightly behind him.

“OH, SH-” he starts.

...

It was about a decade into his thirty years of wandering the multiverse that Ford had first stumbled across the crew of the Starblaster.

It wouldn’t be the last time their paths would cross. Over those thirty years, Ford thinks he’d encountered the IPRE no fewer than seventeen times. Whether or not they were the same IPRE every time is a matter he prefers not to think about. It raises entirely too many questions that he isn’t certain he even wants the answers to.

He doesn’t remember exactly when the seed of an idea was planted. Doesn’t remember exactly when he realised the parallels between their situation and his. Both running from a world-devouring horror, both the only ones able to end its reign of terror. But, unlike the crew of the Starblaster, if Ford loses his life in his travels, he doesn’t get another at the end of a year. And there’s no one else who can stop Bill Cipher if he falls.

Ford’s always known that Bill Cipher would kill him, one day. He’d dared to hope that they would go down together, Holmes and Moriarty locked in deadly struggle over the edge of the Reichenbach Falls. But he’s always known, in the back of his mind, that it might come to this. That he might die before he has a chance to defeat Bill Cipher.

Thankfully, he thinks, before the electrical charge stops his heart and short-circuits his brain for good, he’s made sure that’s not a problem anymore.

...

The Shacktron’s almost within punching distance of the ominous floating black pyramid when the pyramid suddenly shudders in the sky.

“What -” Dipper starts, peering up through the Shacktron’s window. He doesn’t get a chance to finish his sentence, though, because the pyramid gives another heaving shudder and then – explodes.

Well, okay, only one side of it explodes, with a sound like extremely distant and extremely loud fireworks, a burst of rainbow-edged black rubble, and ropes of crackling red lightning. Dipper has to blink a couple times to be sure he’s seeing right, but – yep, that’s the gigantic, hateful yellow face of Bill Cipher flying at top speed out of the middle of the pyramid wall in a shower of rubble, looking extremely surprised.

He’s followed by –

Dipper’s first, slightly crazy thought is that it’s a ball of red neon yarn, halfway through unravelling, like the ones Mabel’s always got three or four of hidden somewhere under her sweater. Then he thinks it’s ball lightning, like they’re always trying to use to explain away UFO sightings. But it’s more like…a ball of yarn, only the yarn is lightning. And wearing…a ratty old tan trenchcoat?

“Oh no,” Dipper mutters.

Bill whirls in midair, rounding on the crackling ball of electricity that Dipper’s somehow sure is his Great-Uncle Ford. Somehow. The last time he’d seen Ford, Ford had admittedly not been an amorphous mass – okay, more of a very rough, gigantic, skeletal humanoid figure, now – made of red lightning. But then again, the last time Ford had seen Dipper, Dipper wasn’t helping pilot a giant robot. It’s the end of the world. His great-uncle turning into a lightning-monster…skeleton?...isn’t the weirdest thing Dipper’s seen in the last twenty-four hours.

Although, he has to admit, it’s up there.

Bill’s voice reverberates through the air, rattling the Shacktron’s windows. “WELL THEN! THANKS FOR THE NEW PICTURE WINDOW, BUT I CAN’T SAY YOU’VE GOT MUCH OF A FUTURE IN INTERIOR DESIGN, SIXER!”

He raises one monstrous, noodly black fist, and Dipper feels something cold slither down his spine.

“CAN’T SAY YOU’VE GOT MUCH OF A FUTURE AT ALL!” Bill crows, before swinging that fist, like the hand of Fate, at the sparking figure that is Ford –

- and right through him.

“WHAT?!” Bill screeches, a feedback whine that forces Dipper to clap both hands over his ears if he wants to keep his eardrums.

Despite the fact that the thing that was Ford doesn’t really have any clear facial features, Dipper can still tell, somehow, that he’s smiling.

Bill’s eye narrows, going flame-blue, and Dipper throws out an arm, like he can reach across the mile or more between them and stop Bill in his tracks. But before Bill can do whatever he’s planning to do, two bolts of crimson lightning arc out from Ford’s trenchcoat, blowing it back in some eldritch wind, and earth themselves in the centre of Bill’s eye.

Bill doesn’t move, for a moment, and Dipper realises he’s holding his breath.

And then red lightning erupts, from between each and every one of Bill’s bricks, forcing them apart. Bill shakes, for a second, like the black pyramid had, his body straining to hold together even as lightning lashes through and between his bricks, pushing them apart. Dipper can see daylight through the cracks in Bill’s form.

And then –

Dipper has to throw up an arm to protect his eyes from the burst of red light as Bill – explodes, like he’s been stuffed full of dynamite and it’s all going off in a string, bricks flying in all directions and shattering into pieces as they fly apart. The roar is deafening.

The Shacktron erupts into cheers, almost drowning out the patter of smoking chunks of yellow triangle raining down around them. Dipper throws an arm up, instinctively, to protect his head, as one lump hisses past inches from the Shacktron’s main window, momentarily blotting out the sun. It’s hard to make out more than a hazy red glow through the clouds of drifting, slightly sparking smoke. And that glow could be the sun, the rift, or whatever power Ford’s summoned up.

“Well, guess we didn’t need to do all that planning after all,” Mabel says brightly, from somewhere to Dipper’s left. “Go, Grunkle Ford!”

To Dipper’s right, Stan crosses his arms over his chest. “See, kid? Told you my nerd brother didn’t need me to rescue him.”

“Um,” Dipper says. He’s pretty sure he’s not just imagining that that hazy red glow is getting brighter. And bigger.

And closer.

...

Cipher falls in pieces.

It's harder to think when you're dead. 

No. Not think. Focus. 

Focus.

Focus on what? 

Clouds of smoke too thick. Impossible to see if Cipher is re-forming. Too easy. This can't be it. After all this time? Can't be this simple.

Movement. On the left. Cipher's Henchmaniacs? Cipher himself? Immolated with a thought. So easy. Too easy.

Lup said something about this. About the power. About something else too. A warning. Not that he needs to be warned about anything anymore. Movement to the right this time becomes a pillar of flame. It’s so easy. 

He should have died years ago. If he’d known it would be like this, he would have. All that time wasted on quantum destabilizers when this power was waiting just under his skin? Foolishness. Selfish foolishness. 

So easy. After all this time. So easy to make Cipher burn.

So easy to make everything burn.

...

“Um, guys?” Dipper quavers, pointing towards the window where the red lightning skeleton guy is hovering. Sure, he’s wearing Grunkle Ford’s trenchcoat, and sure, he just blew up Bill Cipher, so it’s definitely Grunkle Ford, but it’s very important to take a moment and just appreciate this new look he’s rockin’. It’s a big change! He’s probably a little self-conscious about it. He’s gonna need lots of compliments. 

Good thing nobody gives compliments like Mabel!

“Grunkle Ford!” she cheers, running for the window. She ignores Dipper’s yell of “Mabel, wait!”. He can go be a big worrywart somewhere else. Mabel knows her great-uncles when she sees them. “That was so cool!” 

Mabel slaps both hands against the glass, leans her forehead against the window. On the other side of the glass, Grunkle Ford’s head tilts slightly to the left, lightning arcing from his shoulder down to his wrist in a wild, agitated wiggle. He raises his hand, palm towards the glass, and Mabel smacks her own hand against the glass between them in the best high-five she can give a skeleton guy made of lightning. Or should that be a high-six? Or - wait, now there’s another lightning bolt coming from Grunkle Ford’s hand, does that make it a high-seven - 

Stan tackles her around the waist and knocks her away from the window a second before it explodes.

...

Tiny figures scatter.

Mechanical monster lurches, roars. Another blast into its eye. Stumbles. Slow, certain, driving it back. 

Screaming. High and small and distant.

Monsters. All of Cipher’s monsters. All his waking nightmares. All his followers and friends.

Burn them all.

“Mabel, give it up! That’s not Grunkle Ford anymore!”

“For once I agree with your brother. My idiot twin’s lost whatever was left of his mind, we gotta get outta here before he explodes us too!”

“No!” A note to shatter glass. “Grunkle Ford, please! We’re your family! You have to remember!”

“Mabel!” 

“Sweetie, no!”

Tiny figure charges forwards. Arms raised. Skids to a stop at the burst of flame.

“Please! It’s me, it’s Mabel! And Dipper, and Stan - you have to remember your own twin brother -”

Twin...?

some brother you turned out to

“No!”

Tiny figure, darting forward. Two of them, now. Mirrored. Why? What new trick of Cipher’s - 

“Great-Uncle Ford, I know you don’t want to do this! You’re a hero, remember? Not the bad guy!”

because that’s what heroes

“Kids!”

That voice. Scared raw, tiny under metal shrieks and crackling flames, but - 

That voice - 

you stay away from those kids I don’t want

some brother

accident

poindexter

high six?

Ford gives himself a shake, all over. Like he’s waking from a long, long nightmare.

Stanley, crouched in front of the kids, glowers up from the wreckage of the Shack’s main window. Wait. The Shack isn’t - Legs. It has legs?

“You wanna hurt these kids,” Stan growls. Threatening a force of nature with his bare fis- oh. No. With Pa’s old knuckledusters. Well, that makes this so much less idiotic. “You gotta go through me first.”

“I’d...prefer not to,” Ford manages. Has that hiss in his voice always - No. That way madness lies. “I - is anyone hurt?”

“Hurt, no. Traumatized for life, probably,” Dipper says. “Great-Uncle Ford, what the fuck.”

“Dipper!” Mabel gasps.

“Mabel, we’re almost thirteen, you can stop pretending like we don’t know what swear words are! I know you only do it because you think Stan’s swear-substitutes are funny!”

“Wait, what? Have you kids been fucking with me all summer just to hear me say ‘hot Belgian waffles’ every time something went wrong?”

“No, just Mabel,” Dipper says. “For the record, none of this was my idea.”

“We’re gonna talk about this when we’re not standing in a giant robot that’s on fire,” Stan says. Glances up at Ford as he says it. “No thanks to you, Sixer.”

“I can’t actually,” Ford starts. “Um. Put it out.”

“Why am I not surprised,” Stan huffs. But he’s smiling. Kids clinging to him are smiling too. He doesn’t have a face, exactly, anymore, but - Ford knows he himself must be smiling as well. “Can you at least get us down from here?”

“Sorry, he’s not gonna be able to help you with that,” a voice - familiar? - says, just behind him, and then - 

a swish - 

a bright, blooming pain - 

and darkness.

...

“What did you do?!” the besweatered kid yowls, shaking tiny fists in the air. She’s like four feet nothing of pure childish adorableness wrapped in a pink confetti sweater, but Barry catches himself taking an involuntary step backwards anyway.

“Yeah, I kinda had to send your uncle -”

“Great-uncle,” the kid who looks like a fifty-year-old university professor in a twelve-year-old’s tiny, sweaty body says. He sounds as unimpressed as he looks. Same with the girl. It’s not the usual reaction to a literal grim reaper. Barry would be lying if he said he wasn’t thrown a little bit off his game.

“Grunkle!” the girl protests. “He’s our Grunkle Ford and you shouldn’t have done...whatever you did!”

“Sent him to the Eternal Stockade,” Barry says, annoyed. “You don’t just get a free pass for being a lich because your great-niblings are cute - wait, did you say Ford?”

Both the girl and the boy nod.

“Oh,” Barry says.

“Oh,” he says, again, looking around at the yellow sky and the big (but shrinking) glowing oil-slick X slashed across it and the menagerie of nightmares and monsters prowling the pines and the smoking chunks of yellow brick dotting the ground at the feet of the flaming robot.

“Uh oh,” he says, with feeling, looking down at the scythe in his hands. His currently very skeletal hands.

“Yeah, uh, Death, or whatever your name is? Can we take this conversation somewhere where we’re not about to burn alive?” the old guy with the kids asks, looking around him at the burning robot house. “Sure, I wanna be with my brother again, but I’d rather not get it by also dying.”

“Oh yeah. Uh, hang on a second,” Barry says.

“Running out of seconds here,” the old guy points out. “Real fast.”

“Okay, just -” Barry sighs. “Look. You want your great-uncle -”

“Grunkle!”

“Your grunkle back, okay, kid. Look, there are rules, and even if it was for a good cause, he broke them. The Raven Queen’s not gonna be too happy about that.”

“The who what with the what now,” the old guy says, deadpan, crossing his arms over his chest. Barry’s realising he kind of likes him. 

“The goddess of Death, can you try to keep up?”

“Wait, wait, so you’re not Death? There’s a hierarchy of Deaths? How does that work? If she’s a Raven Queen, is Death a monarchy? Is it constitutional, or does she rule by divine right? What -”

“Whoa, kid, slow down!” Barry says, partly because he’s a little scared the kid’s going to pass out if he doesn’t take a breath, partly because he doesn’t actually know the answers to at least half of those questions and he’s got a sinking suspicion they only get harder to answer from here. “Like I said. Raven Queen. Real pissed about liches. But -” he says, as they all start grumbling again, “and this is an important but, turns out she’s got a soft spot for heroes.”

“That’s Great-Uncle Ford!” the boy says, excited, sounding like a kid and not a fortysomething pencil-pusher for the first time. “He beat Bill Cipher and saved our dimension, he’s totally a hero -”

“Yeah. Only problem is, I already dropped him off in the Stockade. And, uh, they call it the Eternal Stockade for a reason.”

There’s a moment of silence, during which Barry notices a handful of people wearing colourful parachutes drifting towards the ground from the lower levels of the robot house. Are those...sweaters?

“Well, then, we’ll just have to go and get him!” the girl says, planting her hands on her hips and her feet shoulder-width apart like a tiny, determined Lynda Carter. Barry’s pretty sure the old man grumbles something like ‘oh, not again,’ but he chooses to ignore it.

“That’s the spirit! Now, since I’m kind of the grim reaper, I’m not...technically allowed to help you.” He holds up a hand when the grumbling starts again, gives his scythe a one-handed twirl before cutting a portal through into the Astral Plane. The waters lap quietly against the shore, a beautiful, soothing contrast to the sharp snap and hiss of the flames starting to devour the walls. “I can get you started, but you’re gonna have to get in there and get out with him in tow without me.”

The girl’s already charging through the portal. Barry watches her feet disappear into the Astral Plane, then turns to the other two. 

For the first time, the boy looks uncertain. “I...I don’t know about this. Will we be able to get back? How will we know where to find him?”

“Hey, kid,” Barry says, in what he hopes is a comforting voice. Skin. It would probably be more comforting with skin. He tries it again, with a human face this time. “Look, I knew your great-uncle, so I know what kind of guy he is. I don’t wanna see him stuck in ghost jail for the rest of eternity any more than you do.”

“Really?” the boy asks, looking up at Barry with wide eyes, even as the old man’s eyes narrow.

“You knew Ford.”

“Well, I wasn’t the grim reaper at the time, but yeah. We ran into each other a couple times,” Barry says. He leaves out the part where he is probably personally responsible for Stanford Pines, Lich. That’s a need-to-know. As in, nobody, ever, needs to know. “Your great-uncle’s a big nerd, and that’s coming from me, but he’s got a good heart. He really doesn’t deserve to be treated like a death criminal forever.”

The old man sighs, glaring into the portal. “You’re gonna make me do this stupid thing, too, aren’t you.”

“Grunkle Stan, don’t be such a meanie-pants!” the girl pipes up, sticking her head back out of the portal. “Come on!”

She vanishes again before anyone can say a word.

“I have so many questions,” the boy says, looking up at Barry with an expression that Barry can only describe as ‘hungry’.

“Ask your great-uncle, kid,” Barry says. “When you rescue him.”

The boy bites down on his lower lip, and then looks up with a determined nod. Readjusting the cap on his head, he stalks forward, and into the portal.

The old man gives Barry a sidelong look. “This isn’t some kind of literal death trap, is it?”

Barry shrugs one shoulder. “You’re just gonna have to trust me. Or not.”

The old man - Stan - stares distrustfully at the portal for a long moment, and then sighs, uncrossing his arms and slouching forward in a clear expression of defeat.

“Somebody’s gotta look out for those kids,” he sighs. “And my idiot brother, I guess.” He takes a deep breath, throwing his shoulders back and his chest out. “And it beats burning alive.” 

He stomps forward, through the portal, and Barry can hear a distant, gravelly yell of, “Kids!”

He chuckles, to himself, before digging in the pockets of his flowing black robe for his Stone of Farspeech.

“Hey, babe? Remember that Ford guy we kept running into? ...Yeah, that’s the one. Listen. I need a favour...”

...

Mabel makes it halfway down the beach before a figure entirely draped in ominous black robes rises up before her, blocking her path. The figure hovers in place, its arms outstretched to its sides, skeletal hands peeking from under the edges of its robes. One of them holds an ornate scythe with a pattern of flames along the edge.

“Whoa!” Mabel shouts, skidding to a stop in the pebbly sand. Dipper pours on what little speed he has, running to catch up with her. He’s not sure what he’ll do against the death police, but he’s not letting them take his sister without a fight.

The figure slowly, slowly raises its hands, slowly, slowly peels back its hood to reveal a bare and glinting skull. As Dipper watches, a crimson flame erupts from the dome of the skull, forming a sweeping mane of hair. Red glints in the depths of the empty sockets as the skeletal figure slowly, slowly raises its head, fixing Dipper in place with a hollow, dreadful stare. He can’t move. His legs have frozen under him. His heart rabbits in his chest.

The skull’s lower jaw drops open, and from the depths of its dark robe, a hissing, sinister voice echoes:

“Hey there! Heard you nerds were going on an Orphean underworld quest!”

Dipper and Mabel exchange a startled look. Stan, puffing to a halt behind them, groans. “Oh, what now?”

The skeleton in front of them grins...more somehow. “Name’s Lup, and if I’m gonna be your guide, I literally cannot stress enough how important it is that you not look back.”

[rum-and-shattered-dreams]

Chapter 3:  There Are Still Good Times. Summary: Stan and Ford discover that even after all these years, they still share some of the same interests. The two discuss the eerie break in Bill's assaults on them as well as their suspicions about Lil' Gideon. Notes: As the title suggests, this is another lighter, mostly fluff chapter. Things may be bad but there's still laughter and an unbreakable brotherly bond.  I should probably note that Dipper and Mabel’s stories are following canon so far.

Part One Part Two More fics Ford sat near the bars of his cell, the flicker of the TV glinting over his dampened cheeks.  He lifted his near-empty package of jelly beans up and shook the last few into his mouth without taking his eyes off the screen. "Thank goodness you defeated Count Lionel!" a woman's voice exclaimed joyfully, "I am simply mortified.  He had no right-!" "He'd better not bother you two again!" Ford threatened, his mouth still half-full of sugary sweetness. "Indeed!" a man replied, "He had better not bother us again!" "That's what I'm saying!" Ford shouted, leaning in closer, his silver hair falling in unkempt clumps over his shoulders. A knock at the door jolted him into an upright position.  He swallowed hard and said in a hushed hiss, "TV off."  The TV obeyed leaving him in the silent dimness of his cell.  He straightened his sweater, cleared his throat and answered, "Come on in, Stan." Stan pushed the door open, a covered tray in one hand and a paper cup in the other.  As usual, two sodas tugged down at the pockets of his boxers.  He couldn't contain a laugh at the sight of his sniffling brother surrounded by pillows and snack wrappers, wiping his cheeks with his sleeve.  "You were watching that sappy romance movie stuff weren't you?" He asked. "What?!  No.  I just...  Got an eyelash in my eye!" He defended, blinking over burning, red eyes. "Both of them?" "...  Yes!" "You do realize this wall isn't soundproof, right?" Stan said with a quirked eyebrow. "Oh.  So you were eavesdropping on me, then?"  Ford joked, pushing the floor pillow Stan typically liked to use through the bars and setting it on the floor. "Well...  You know...  I wanna make sure I don't hear you snoring or anything and wake you up."  Stan wasn't completely lying. "Sure sure," Ford replied with a reasonable amount of sarcasm and suspicion. "Anyway," Stan said, trying to keep the tray steady as he lowered it to the floor, "That Count Lionel sure ruined his chances didn't he?"  He let out an "oof" as he plopped down onto the fleece-covered floor pillow.   "He certainly did!" Ford answered before his thoughts could catch up to him, "He should have- wait..." he squinted and pointed at Stan, "You watched The Duchess Approves too?" "I have no idea what you're talking about," Stan defended,  crossing his arms and looking away with a "humph."  He turned back slowly, lowering his arms.  "...Maybe...  Yeah alright... Ya got me," he sighed, holding his hands up in surrender, "I'm hooked.  The duchess is just so...  relatable, ya' know?" "It's true!" Ford agreed, picking up the snack wrappers and handing them through to Stan.  "She represents a universality of emotions that transcends age and gender...  Perhaps we can watch that movie together sometime?" "Yeah...?  Yeah!  We should," Stan replied, shoving the snack wrappers aside and lifting the lid from the tray.  "Are you even still hungry?  Looks like I made you wait too long for dinner." "I definitely would enjoy some real food," Ford answered, his mouth nearly watering at the smell of the cheeseburger and the sight of fresh salad greens and cherry tomatoes on the plate Stan had revealed. "Sorry I'm a bit late getting down here tonight.  I thought the kids were home but turns out they went out without tellin' me and they just got back a few minutes ago.  Apparently they were checking out the old Dusk to Dawn with Wendy and her friends.  They wouldn't tell me much about it, though so I sent them to bed and asked them to at least tell me if they're going out." "Oh that can't be good that they were there.  After the owners died so tragically, I suspect it might be haunted," Ford said reaching through the bars for a tomato and pinch of lettuce.  He dipped them into the cup of Italian dressing and stuffed them into his mouth. "You think?"  Stan asked. "It's a possibility.  That could be why they won't say much.  They probably think you won't believe them," He shrugged and reached through the bars for the cheeseburger. "Yeah.  Probably.  Hope nothin' too bad happened to them if that's the case."  Stan shifted around on the pillow, his face scrunching as he pulled the soda cans from his pockets.  He popped them open, poured Ford's into the paper cup, and took a swig out of his own can. "I think they would have mentioned it if they were hurt or anything," Ford said between bites, "Or at least I'd hope."   "I'd hope so, too," Stan said, tapping his stubbly chin, "Speaking of hurt, how are ya doin' today?  Looks like your bruises are getting better." "They are," Ford answered, reaching through for the soda cup.  "He hasn't bothered me in a few days.  Not to curse it but...  It's eerie...  As if he's...  Planning something..." "Yeah..."  Stan sipped at his soda.  "I mean, good riddance if he's bored with us but...  I get what ya mean.  It feels..." "Foreboding..." Ford filled in. "Yeah.  Fancy word that sounds like it describes the thing.  Maybe he's just mad that we padded the bars," he added, poking the cotton covered batting he'd glued to them. "Perhaps.  Though, I am surprised he doesn't seem eager to...  prove that won't stop him," Ford said, tapping one of the covered bars. "Yeah...  I mean...  hopefully it helps er...  soften the blows when he has his tantrums but yeah, it still ain't a perfect solution." "Seems like it will help some, at least," Ford said.  He reached through the bars for another handful of lettuce and a few slices of cucumber.  "So, how is Mabel holding up after her break-up, anyway?  Is she still angry at Gideon?" "I'm not even sure we can call that a break-up.  She never liked him like that.  He kinda forced her into it.  And I hate that I almost did too just because Bud offered me a deal for bigger profits.  Thanks for that pathology, Dad," He grumbled sarcastically, receiving a knowing nod from Ford.  "But, she seems alright now," Stan continued.  "Guess it's a good thing it didn't work out after all.  I'm still freaked out by that kid." "I've seen some of those commercials of his that you were talking about.  You're right that something seems off about him.  And that he's as phony of a psychic as mom was." "Yeah, if anyone can see a fake, it's us," Stan agreed, tipping back his soda can to drain the last drops into his mouth.   "It's weird, though," Ford said, reaching through the bars for the paper cup and cradling it in both hands.  "That amulet he was wearing seemed familiar but I can't figure out why.  I don't think I've ever seen it before but...  I don't know." "Looks like he lost it since those commercials were filmed," Stan said, squishing his soda can between his fingers with a crunch.  "Or at least, he doesn't wear it anymore.  I'll keep an eye on him, though.  'Specially if something seems familiar about that to you." "That sounds like a good idea in general.  Keep your enemies close and all, right?"  Ford tipped his cup toward Stan as if toasting to the thought then chugged the entire cupful. "Yeah.  I really don't know what it is he has against me," Stan said with a shrug, "For once, I never did nothing to him.  He just seems to hate that I'm here." "Listen to us..." Ford said, passing his empty cup to Stan.  "Two old men worried about the threats of a child..." "Ha ha, right!  You'd think we're paranoid or something," Stan said, chuckling awkwardly.   "Yeah, you'd think we're constantly on the lookout for signs of a demon badgering us or something," Ford added. "Right?" Stan replied, gathering up the empty plate, cup, and snack wrappers onto the tray and replacing its lid.  "Well, I hate to run off so soon but, I better get back upstairs.  The kids probably haven't been able to get to sleep yet." "Yes, you should go try to sleep yourself." "Yeah.  Not sure I'll be able to what with thinking about that wedding kerfuffle," he said with a wink. "Ah yes.  I almost feel bad for Count Lionel.  But he was out of line interrupting the wedding like that," Ford said, tapping his bearded chin. "Well," Stan grunted, lifting himself from the floor pillow with the tray balanced precariously in one hand.  "I guess we'll have to wait until part two to find out what happens to him.  But for now, good night ya' nerd." Ford reached through the bars and pulled the floor pillow back inside his cell.  "Good night, Stanley," he said with a wave and watched the door click shut behind his brother. Notes: I promise they won't be eating something in every chapter ;). Qebob xob kbt mxtkp fk qeb dxjb.

[videogamelover99]

Waking Days Ch1 - Enter Bill Cipher

A/N: Helllooo and thank you for being so patient with me. I know, I know, with that little joke I had it coming, but look, I’ve finally delivered!

I took a long while with figuring out a title for the long fic, and I may change it later, but this is what I’ve got for now, so feedback is appreciated. (And yes, the chapter title is literally the same one as from Flat Dreams. I am a nerd.) Enjoy, you guys. :3

Warning: Implied substance abuse. 

AU by @doodledrawsthings. Based on Flat Dreams by @pengychan.

“He that sleeps feels not the tooth-ache.”

W. Shakespeare, Cymbeline. 

Ever since he took that deal, he’d been regretting it.

Looking back now, he would take a million years in that stone tomb over what that giant salamander had subjected him to. He hadn’t expected on getting his power back, not really, but the least that jerk could do was give him a proper form. Hell, or at least keep him a triangle. But he’d never expected this. He’d been thrown into this form with no directions, no explanation except “You must absolve your crime.”

Yeah, great, what the hell did that even mean.

He hated it. He hated everything about this stupid body, about this weak pitiful meat sack that frilly asshole decided to shove him in. He had nothing, no power, no immortality, no means of escape. And if that wasn't enough, he was slowly dying. He could even feel it. The slow, painful way each cell was loosing its energy. In just a few decades he would degrade, grow cold and end up feeding worms before he knew it, if this sack of flesh didn't give up on him even sooner. After watching humans for so long, he'd seen just how easily they could die, hell he'd even been the cause of a lot of them. He'd found it funny, how easily they can break.

He didn't now.

He hated this. He was Bill Cipher, bringer of nightmare, All-Seeing Eye, not some...some puny mortal who couldn't tie his own shoelaces. Stuff like that was just annoying. There was no point in knowing what humans did with their shoes, so he hadn't bothered looking. Now he could barely tie a knot, not until Shooting Star had shown him.

Mabel Pines was the easiest to deal with. Innocent and trusting, the kid was the easiest to get on his side. Was it manipulation? Sure. No surprise there. That didn’t mean he didn’t like the kid, though the whole defeating him part did put a damper on things. Because that spray paint had hurt, damn it.

Still, out of all the Pines, Shooting Star was the most agreeable one, no doubt about that. Neither Fez not Sixer would try anything, not with the kid involved. Security measure, in a way.

That's what he told himself most times when the brat decided to insert herself into his day like some kind of annoying dandelion that suddenly sprang on the lawn. Not needed, and obnoxious to boot.

The chess game had been easy, and Bill had been pretty bored anyway. Making fun of one of the Pines and getting something out of it was almost too good of a deal to pass up, even if that something was just a lousy sweater. Still, the kid knew how to make him look good, even in yarn.

The chess thing...Whatever it was, continued, as did the numerous sweaters the kid somehow managed to conjure in record time. And, okay, Bill had to admit it was fun. Shooting Star was nowhere near the most impressive opponent he'd played against, but boy if she wasn't interesting. The kid seemed to find the most ridiculous ways to lose, including chasing off his knight with her king back to his side of the board. Of course, that had been pretty much suicide, but Star satisfied herself with a really stupid loss, and Bill wasn't exactly complaining, not while her sweaters were so damn soft.

Huh, that was a weird thing to like. Must be a human thing.

…

“Watcha doing?”

Bill opened his eyes, but didn’t bother getting up when Mabel sat down next to him, letting her legs dangle from the edge of the roof. “Contemplating your pointless existence.”

“Rude.” The kid swung her legs a bit, before crawling over to sit next to him, the wood creaking under her weight. “Hey, are you okay?”

“I’m slowly dying.” He hadn’t meant that to come out as easily as it did. Mortality was making him lose his grip.

“Well, yeah, that’s kind of a thing humans do, y’know?” Bill closed his eyes again. He didn’t want to have this conversation, not with Shooting Star of all people. “Though we usually ignore it.”

“How?” No, stop. Ignoring what this body did to him would be almost the same as giving up. Which was ridiculous. He was going to find a way out, he knew it, he just needed to-

“Well, stop thinking about it, first of all.” The lighthearted tone meant that the kid was teasing him. Mabel Pines. Laughing at him. “You’re not going anywhere right now, so relax! It’s not like whining about it will help, ya big nerd.”

Bill didn’t respond, choosing to ignore the little girl and hopefully preserve any dignity he had left. Even if her laugh made him wanna throw her off the roof.

“Aw, don’t be like that.” No response. “Come on, is Silly Billy sulking again? I know what he needs: a sticker, that’s what!” With a small ‘boop’, Bill felt her stick something on his nose. He tore the sticker off, crumbing it and tossing it her way.

“Didn’t I tell you not to do that?”

Mabel grinned, looking pleased at finally getting a reaction out of the demon. “Do what?”

“You’re thirteen, but you act like a five year old.”

The girl’s grin fell, telling that the quip had met its mark. “You’re the one to talk.” She grumbled, poking him in the side, hard. The demon yelped, not expecting that, his body giving a spasm, forcing him to finally sit up and wrap his arms around his sides. Completely on impulse. Sometimes, human instincts were just really, really inconvenient.

Mabel blinked, looking from Bill to her hand and then back to Bill. Her face slowly stretched into a wide grin. “So you’re ticklish even out of my brother’s body.”

“Mabel Pines, I swear if you-No! No-AHAHAHA!” The kid pounced, digging her fingers into his sides, making the demon erupt with uncontrollable laughter. Aren’t people supposed to laugh at what goes their way? This was torture. The demon was hyper-aware of every sensation, of every finger that managed to dig in-between his ribs. His arms flailed around, trying to throw the kid off, but she was too damn persistent. In what felt like centuries Star finally relented, letting the demon push her away and laying down next to him, giggling as well. Bill collapsed into a boneless heap, trying to catch his breath. He was supposed to be angry, livid even, for letting any mortal touch him. Yet he couldn’t even fight off the grin that was left on his face. “I hate you.”

“Aw, don’t be like that! I was just trying to make you feel better.”

“How the hell was that supposed t-” Bill frowned, cutting himself off. Despite the heat on his face and the way his body still heaved for oxygen, there was something different about it. It was like out of all the 630 newtons gravity had dumped on him, half of that was thrown off. He did feel better, though that made no sense. “Hold on, how did you do that?”

Mabel shrugged. “I think it’s like, hormones and stuff? I don’t know, you’re the all-knowing demon. But it’s a human thing. Laughing just makes us feel better.”

Bill stared at her for a long time. Of course, laughing had made him feel better too, back when he was still all-powerful and all that jazz, but-

Liar.

He winced, ignoring the voice.

“Hey, don’t get all nihilistic on me again! And I was being such a good therapist.” The girl crossed her arms over her chest when she saw Bill’s questioning stare. “What, I know some complicated words! Someone has to understand what my nerdy bro is saying.”

“Yeah, you do.”

Mabel bristled. “Hey, what’s that supposed to mean?”

Bill grinned at her, folding his arms behind his head. “Oh, ya know...starting to wonder which one of you is the smart pines twin after all.”

Star didn’t respond, so Bill pushed on. “I mean, for all the brains you claim Pine Tree has, he was a heck of alot easier to swindle. Don’t get me wrong, you handed that rift to me on a silver platter,” a wince, “But I had to put on a whole other meat suit for ya to fall for it. Ol’ Dipping Sauce took the bait without me even bothering with all that. And! You still figured out a way to stop me. Hinder me. Whatever.” Couldn’t give her too much credit there, the third dimension was kinda out of his veil of expertise at the time. “From what it looks like, you’re the one with the brains around here.” Bill finished, looking up at the kid. She was staring back blankly at him “Uh, Shooting Star?”

Despite the fact that he knew he was laying it on thick, the demon had to admit, the kid was perceptive, sometimes even more than all the other Pines smashed together. That was what he should have watched out for.

“That’s what you said to Grunkle Ford as well, huh?”

Bill froze, before giving himself a mental kick in the head. He was playing it up too much. Of course...

Mabel smiled, the smile too sad to be her own. “You said all that nice stuff about him being ‘special’ and ‘smart’ and he believed you.” She got up. “And I thought- no that’s stupid. Dipper was right, I shouldn’t have bothered.” the girl turned to leave when a hand suddenly grabbed her wrist, clutching it a little too tightly.

“Don’t.” he hated how his own voice sounded, almost pleading, and it was stupid, because who said he really needed this kid? So his original plan to get her on his side crashed and burned, so what? She was just a stepping stone, a way for him to finally get out of this body, and then he wouldn’t need her anymore. Bill Cipher didn’t need anyone.

It’s just that being left alone on the roof all the sudden seemed like the worst thing that could possibly happen.

Mabel shook his hand off, but didn’t leave, turning back to him. Then she suddenly reached to wipe her face with her sleeve, and Bill’s chest constricted. It was like something inside of it was taken into a cold, vice grip, and he couldn’t shake it away. What was that? Why can’t I-

You know exactly what it is.

The girl sniffed, finally letting her arm fall back by her side, her face a little redder than normal. “I don’t...I don’t want to be fake friends with you.” she looked away, her face scrunched up. “If you don’t want to be my friend that’s fine, just don’t- don’t fake it.”

Bill scowled, and turned away from Star’s snot-covered face. It was really annoying, for some reason. Her leaking.

Mabel slowly came to sit next to him, tossing her legs over the edge and wiping off the stray wetness with her sleeve. “I wanna help you,” she said after a while, both of them staring straight ahead, at the last stray rays of the darkening sky. “But I don’t know if-”

“Why?”

The girl shrugged a bit to Bill’s question. “I’m Mabel Pines. It’s what I do.”

The demon grimaced, feeling angry at that statement. “It’s not gonna do ya any favors.”

Star shrugged again, letting her head fall on his shoulder. “That’s okay.”

He didn’t push her off.

...

"Just who does she think she is?!" Bill threw the scissors across the room, smashing them into the far wall and making a severely satisfying dent in the wood. Would probably get him in a big one with Fez later, but at the moment he was too livid to care. How dare she? How dare she!? "I did everything she wanted and she- and-" You did not. Bill scowled, his hands clenching at his sides. Get lost. You invoked me. How many times do I have to tell you to leave? As many as you think will satisfy you. Bill's eyes shot to the water tank in the corner. Small, pink creature met his gaze. He was almost tempted to pick up the scissors and throw them at the tank instead, but that would definitely not go well with Fez, and he wasn't exactly eager to sleep outside tonight. You are lying to yourself. Bill bristled. What the hell do you know about- What do you think she wanted? A better world! I made that happen! There was a light ticking sound. That bastard was laughing at him. Not everyone shares your definition of "better".

No. No no no. He was sure he's made it-

“Make it worth something.”

He had. If she couldn't see that, then that was her problem. They ruined everything, and after all they did to her, she still-

Liar.

“I don’t CARE!” Bill rezched up to pull viciously on his hair, but the sharp stab of pain did nothing to block out that voice. “You act like you know everything. Well, YOU DON’T KNOW A GODDAMN THING! SHE DOESN’T KNOW A GODDAMN THING! And if you THINK you can TELL ME WHAT TO DO, WELL, you’re even MORE OF AN IDIOT THAN I THOUGHT. Now get the FUCK OUT OF MY HEAD.”

There was no answer. Bill breathed heavily, surrounded by silence.

...

The kid had the scissors. She'd taken them long before Fordsy could even lay eyes on them, and that was probably for the better. He needed them. And by a stroke of luck, they were just within his reach.

Bill tripped over a ball of loose yarn, shaking off the string and cursing under his breath. The kid was fast asleep, curled up in her make-shift nest of stuffed animals whose soulless, button eyes were definitely following him around. Probably cursed. Man, he had to get one of those someday.

There was no risk of waking up Star, the kid slept like a dead rock most of the time. The one he didn’t want to wake was Pine Tree, because no doubt the brat would go running to Sixer as soon as he saw Bill doing something “suspicious”. Not that this was the most inconspicuous thing he’d do, but one paranoid wreck he could deal with. Two was pushing the limit

Bill finally shook off the clingy pink thread around his ankles, kneeling next to Mabel’s supplies drawer to shuffle through its contents. Stickers, glitter glue, googly eyes all covered his hands, but no scissors were found. Where were the damn things?

Bill cast a look back at the ball of yarn he’d stepped in, and at the plastic bag next to it it had apparently rolled out of. He knelt and rummaged through the bag, careful with the crinkling plastic. Finally he’d found them, sticking out of another fluffy ball of yarn. It was just like the kid to use a reality-altering gadget as actual scissors. The demon freed them from their tangled prison, turning to leave the room. He cast one last look at Shooting Star, still sound asleep, breath whistling through her teeth. Then he left, not bothering to close the door behind him.

He didn’t notice as Mabel suddenly sat up, staring at the now empty hallway.

…

Liam closes the book he was reading, letting his eye fall shut. “Alright, that’s it. Now you have to go to bed.”

“Whaaat? But that one was short! Tell me another!”

“Billy…”

“I brought you candy! So you have to!” Bill scoots closer to him, staring into his brother’s eye eagerly, until Liam has not choice but to cave in, giving a small laugh.

“Alright, alright. A short one.”

The younger brother beams at him, eye crinkling. “Do the one about the pirates, I love that one.”

“I know, I’ve read it to you like ten times already.”

“Then make it the eleventh.”

Liam puts down the book he was holding, grabbing another one from the shelf before settling down into the pillow. Bill scoots next to him, burying them both under the blankets and leaning on the other’s side. The bigger triangle opens the cover, his palm hesitating on the first page. Why isn’t he reading?

“You can’t keep doing this, Billy.”

Bill freezes, shuddering. It was suddenly cold. No, not cold. It was really hot. There was something very, very wrong…

“What do you-”

“You’ve slept for so long. Maybe it’s time to wake up.”

No. No no- “No. No, don’t- I don’t want-” The boy’s tumbling phrases die in his throat as he looks up at the other, and his eye shrinks into a pinprick at the sight.

Liam’s shape is crumbling, burning away like singed paper, the edges of the triangle darkening and curling inward.

And it was like Liam didn’t even notice. He just stared at him with that sad, regretful eye. Like he didn’t notice he was- “Wake up, Billy.”

“NO!” Bill made a grab for him, for whatever was left of his brother, but it was too late. There was nothing but ashes. “No, no, no, make it stop, please, I-”

Wake up, Billy.

The bedsheets caught on fire, angry red flames dancing on the covers. It burned, it burned more than Bill ever thought it would. “Come back! I didn’t mean to!”

There was nothing but that unbearable heat, eating him inside out, turning his thoughts to dust, just like they did to-

Wake up!

Bill screamed.

…

And promptly fell on the floor.

The demon lay there for awhile, rubbing his now bruised side. He didn’t remember what that nightmare was about, except that it was gonna keep him awake for the rest of the night. Which means he slept a total of- Bill unburied his face from the blanket, casing a bleary look at the cuckoo clock mounted on the wall. Four hours. Not bad, but hardly enough for this stupid body to be satisfied with.

Sleep was one of the most annoying things this body had him dealing with. The absurd amount of time humans spent unconscious (eight to nine hours, seriously? Most other beings could live off of four) used to be extremely handy. After all, what was a dream demon without dreams to infiltrate? Every time someone fell asleep, it was practically an open invitation for him to sneak in and rummage through their brain without consequence.

And he hated being on the receiving end of it. It was like the universe itself was setting up some big joke. Bill Cipher in need of sleep. Ha ha, hilarious.

He loathed every time he got put under. Bill of all knew how vulnerable humans were when asleep. It was what got him the upper hand, but now, it was unnerving. He had no idea of what was going on around him, and that was the least of it. The nights when he didn’t dream of anything were probably the most bearable.

Because when he did, they were always nightmares.

Aaand there was the punchline. Bill Cipher, harebringer of nightmares was suddenly on the receiving end of them. Pure irony at its finest. He’d appreciate the humor more if he didn’t wake up screaming every night.

It’d been so long since he knew what nightmares were like, anyway, long before he’d-

The long forgotten screams echoed in his head, and Bill pushed them away, deep enough that he wouldn’t have to hear them anymore. He got up, his side still aching from the fall, tossing the flimsy blanket aside on the floor. There was no point in going back to sleep. He couldn’t even if he’d tried, and besides, who knew if that nightmare came back again? Bill would take the horrible weight of exhaustion over that any day.

The demon stumbled into the kitchen, shuffling through the shelves in search of enough caffeine to make that unexplainable pressure on the back of his head go away for at least a few hours. He cracked open one of the top cabinets, and froze. Huh. So that’s where Fez keeps all his poison. There sure is a lot of it.

It felt like he’d stood there forever, starting them, the dark glass glinting under the dim lighting. The flickering light of bright blue flame still danced behind his eyes.

Bill reached for the bottle.

…

“Cipher? What the hell are ya- Oh jeez, what a mess. You know I’m charging ya for the booze, right?”

…

The bottles were gone, and he was on the couch again, the blanket he’d kicked away tossed over him.

At least the splitting headache chased away the voices.

…

“I wanna see him.”

The ancient one lifted his tale, revealing a small, grey triangle underneath. Bill Cipher looked more awake than he had all this time, not looking at the Axolotl, but rather somewhere beyond, into the dull void that stretched out for eternity. The boy’s eye was narrowed, hiding whatever emotion he didn’t want the other to see. Of course, the ancient one could still tell.

“You- you said if I wake up, I’ll get to see him.” It was a question, despite not sounding like one, carrying something almost akin to hope. “That I’ll find out where he is.”

“You will. In time.”

The boy finally looked at him, the single wide eye not muddled anymore by sleep. “So if I leave, then-”

“If you leave, you will gain a new form. Absolve your crime, and you shall see your brother again.”

Bill turned away, looking unsure. But he was ready. This was the first time that he ever talked about leaving this bubble without denial or anger, but as a possibility. But that possibility was all that was needed for the bubble to crack, and the illusion to shatter. If Cipher truly wanted to leave, that meant that the dream wasn’t enough anymore to satisfy him. That did not mean that his denial would end, but it was cracking, just like the bubble.

“Ok.” The voice was small, but the weight it carried could not be compared to anything else found in the void. “Deal.”

...

Bill Cipher woke up.

[diannaphantomfiction]

Shooting Star

Chapter 1 of 2

Fandom(s): Gravity Falls

Rating: T

Summary: Requested by @waldorkler. Mabel is killed by Bill during Weirdmeggedoen, readily sacrificing herself to save her brother. 

Date Uploaded: April 17th, 2017

Next

“WAIT!” 

Mabel’s desperate scream echoed throughout the pyramid, the reverberating sound made everyone freeze in their tracks. Even Dipper, trapped beside her in the demon’s hand with a bright blue pine tree shining down on them, froze rigidly beside her. Mabel took a deep, shaky breath and squeezed her eyes shut. 

“Well, Shooting Star? We’re waiting!” 

Mabel was trembling. Dipper squeezed her had nervously, shaking at what she might be doing. 

“This is my fault,” she whispered, slipping her hand out of Dipper’s, “Don’t hurt Dipper, please. This was my mistake. Don’t hurt Dipper for my mistakes.”

“Mabel, don’t you dare young lady!” 

“What the hell are you even talking about, kid?!” 

“Mabel, no!” 

Bill just laughed, his cackles filling the entire empty town, “Oh, you’re just a hoot aren’t you, Shooting Star! The heroine’s sacrifice! That’s just rich! But can it really be considered a hero’s sacrifice if you caused all this?!” 

“Now’s he’s just talking nonsense!” Stan yelled, shaking his fist at the giant demon, “Don’t listen to him kid!” 

“Sorry Grunkle Stan! Grunkle Ford! He’s right. I broke the rift, I brought this all to town and I’m sorry!” Mabel let tears slip past her eyes and shook even harder, barely containing the loud heaving sobs that were threatening to burst out of her chest. 

“He tricked you Mabel!” Dipper kicked at Bill’s fingers angrily, “It’s my fault for keeping secrets from you!” 

“Shut up and let me do this for you! For all of you!” 

Bill was still laughing, “Oh, this is great! Humans! You always crack me up! You want to take the blame, Shooting Star? You can take the blame! In front of this miserable little town, and then in front of the entire world! They’ll hate you so much and once you see how much they hate you, then I’ll kill you for everyone to see!” 

Cipher reached over and stretched one on the holes of the older twin’s caged just wide enough to drop Dipper through before he closed it back off. As soon as Dipper landed he ran to the side of the cage nearest to Bill and Mabel. He reached through the holes desperately. 

“Mabel! NO!” 

Ford forcibly turned Dipper away and hugged him tightly. “Don’t watch.” 

Bill snapped his fingers and a wave of blue spread rippled throughout the room, past the walls, and across the entire town, “Well, go on Shooting Star! Everyone’s listening!” 

Mabel let out a sob and wiped her tears and snot away with the sleeve of her sweater. “H-hi everyone, it’s Mabel Pines.��� She let out a sad laugh before continuing. “I need to say sorry. This mess, the end of the word, this all my fault. I’m so sorry. I broke the rift between the dimensions. I let Bill bring all his friends here and I’m so sorry…” 

The built up tears poured out of Mabel’s eyes, interspersed with heavy, room-filling sobs. Bill sighed, tuting sadly at the little human trapped in his hand. “Guess that’s all I’m going to get out of you, huh?” 

Dipper tried to push out of Ford’s arms, kicking his great uncle in the legs and screaming. Senseless sounds mingled together with Mabel’s name as Ford held him tighter. Mabel only cried harder. 

Bill cackled away as he pulled his arm back and wound up, before sending Mabel flying out the pyramid in a streak of light. As it happened, Ford pressed Dipper’s face into his chest, holding him tighter as the young man struggled. Mabel didn’t scream as she died, she didn’t have time to, but it was horrifying and he didn’t want Dipper to have to see that. 

“Well, Stanford, what’s it gonna be? Or do I get to kill Pine Tree, too?” 

“Stanley. Do not let Dipper go,” Ford said, passing Dipper over to Stan.  

“Wait! Uncle Ford! NO!” 

Something wasn’t right. There was more pressure on Dipper’s arm than there should be, as if there were six fingers rather than five. 

“I accept your deal Bill. On the condition that you let my brother and nephew live.”

“Great Uncle Ford? Where is she?” 

Ford hummed sadly and gazed up at the night sky before pointing to a single star, shining brightly against the blackened sky. “There.” 

Dipper laughed, wiping tears away from his eyes and smearing more dirt across his face. “He turned her into a star.” 

Ford chuckled darkly, holding back his own tears, “A fitting remembrance for Mabel if I’ve ever seen one.” 

Dipper kept laughing. There was nothing else he could consider doing. Nothing else made any sense. 

“My parents are never going to let me come back, Grunkle Ford.” 

“I’ll talk to them, Dipper.” 

“They’re not going to listen to you.” 

“Perhaps. Perhaps they will.”

Dipper sat there until his laughter died down. He slumped over his own knees, the bags under his eyes and the shaking of his limbs far to noticeable now. “I-I think I’m going to try to get some sleep.” 

Ford nodded, “I suppose I will go look in on Stanley, then.” 

Dipper stumbled up the stairs, his legs threatening to give up under him and his eyes slipping closed. Dipper ignored his own bed and fell down into Mabel’s, bunching up her blankets to his face and taking a deep sniff. Underneath the smells of forest, they smelled like her. Sugar and pig and yarn and glue. Dipper sneezed sending sparkling pink flakes flying. And glitter; of course there was glitter. 

Waddles whined loudly and settled down on the floor next to Dipper. Dipper chose to curl up under Mabel’s blankets, glitter and all. 

“Come on, Dipper! You’re not going to even try to help Grunkle Stan?!” 

Dipper pressed her pillow over his head. “Shut up. You’re not even real.” 

Suddenly, something heavy hit Dipper in the side. Dipper sat up confused; there was a book next to him on the bed. Putting on his cap, Dipper picked up the book as Waddles snorted curiously. Mabel’s scrapbook! 

“GREAT UNCLE FORD! GREAT UNCLE FORD!” 

Dipper jumped out of bed and ran downstairs, the scrapbook tucked under his arm.

The next two days were fairly close to hell. Aside from grieving over their lost family member, Dipper and Ford had to help Stan regain his memory. It was a slow going process, and while the scrapbook was a great help, this was far more like something Mabel would be good at rather than Dipper or Ford. 

Luckily, the town had rallied around what was left of the Pines family. Meals were dropped off on the doorstep, the Sheriff had called Dipper’s parents so Ford wouldn’t have to, and Pacifica even gathered people together to make a small memorial for Mabel in town. 

Dipper had chosen to focus on something else though. After that first night he’d started to notice strange things happening around the shack. Waddles was staring at things that were not there, there were strange hot spots around the house, and glitter had start appearing in places it shouldn’t be in neat little piles. He had a theory, naturally, but as he stood in his room with his uncles, he wasn’t sure he wanted to be right this time. 

Dipper stood in front of the sigils he had drawn on the floor and took a deep, shaking breath, before beginning to speak in Latin. A soft, blue glow emitted from the sigils. It was working. Dipper closed his eyes, focusing on Ford’s hand on his shoulder and the words he was trying to form. 

“Dipper, it’s working,” Stan whispered, staring wide-eyed at the glowing humanoid form forming in front of them. 

Dipper kept repeating the words until Ford squeezed his shoulder. He closed his book and looked fearfully at the form of his sister floating in front of him. She was translucent and blue, as expected, but how she looked still terrified Dipper. It finally sunk in how painful her death must have been. Half her hair was gone, there were burns covering her entire body, and the parts that didn’t have burns were simply exposed bone. 

Dipper dropped the book, shaking. “M-Mabel?” 

“Hi, guys.” Mabel smiled at her family, revealing the twisted and warped metal that used to be her braces, and ran forward, arms outstretched. Instinctively, Dipper opened his arms for a hug from his sister, only to have her pass through him in a wave of burning heat. 

“Oh. I guess I can’t do that anymore…” Mabel said, looking down, placing her arms behind her back, and kicking one of her legs back and forth. 

Dipper held back a sob. “Mabel…” 

Mabel looked at Dipper, than Ford, then Stan, seeming to ignore how sad everyone looked, “You’re all alive! And the Shack is in one piece! You guys beat Bill!” 

Stan laughed sadly, “We sure did kid.” 

“YES!” Mabel screamed pumping her fists into the air. 

Dipper couldn’t help it. He started laughing as the tears fell and their uncles quickly joined him. Mabel smiled at them. She looked a little proud of herself, but mostly her eyes were sad and scared. Dipper reach out his palm facing her and Mabel copied his movement with the hand that still had skin on it. He could almost feel her. Dipper wiped his eyes with his shirtsleeve. 

“Mabel, I’m so sorry! If I had just told you what was going on…” 

“No, Mabel,” Ford said, “It’s my fault, if I had told you about the rift…” 

“Hey! If anyone is taking the blame for this it’s me!” Stan yelled. “I was supposed to take care of you kids and I failed!” 

Mabel stomped her foot, sending out a heavy wave of heat in their direction. “STOP IT! I don’t blame any of you! Bill killed me, not you, and he killed me because I let him!” 

The three living in the room looked at the ghost girl, all of them quiet. “I wanted to say good bye… and talk to each of you of you’ll let me.” 

“Of course!” Ford exclaimed. 

“You don’t even have to ask, kid!” 

Dipper just nodded, choosing to focus on Mabel’s eyes since they still looked like Mabel. 

Mabel smiled and tugged on what was left of her hair, “Grunkle Ford? Could I talk to you first?” 

“Of course, Mabel.” 

Stan put his hands on Dipper’s shoulders and steered him toward the door, “We’ll wait downstairs until you two are done.” 

“W-What? Grunkle Stan! I-I…” 

“Mabel’s not going to leave without talking to you, Dipper, is she?” 

Mabel looked scandalized, “Of course not!” 

“See? Let’s give them some privacy.” 

Dipper and Stan waited in the living room in silence for what felt like hours, but was in reality only around fifteen minutes. Ford came down with a sad smiled and tear tracks on his face and Stan went up. Dipper watched the sun sinking down toward the horizon. He was sure that by the time the sun was set, he’d be without a sister again. 

“Dipper.” 

Dipper turned at the sound of his Great Uncle’s voice and shoved his hand in his pockets, slowly making his way upstairs. Mabel was waiting for him; hover just a few centimeters above the floor with Waddles trying to cuddle up to her. Dipper pulled his hat down so the brim covered his eyes and sat down across from her. 

“Hey.” 

“Hey.” 

Dipper tried not to look at his sister, instead tracing the wood on the floor with his finger. Mabel looked around the room sadly and tried to put her hand on Waddles, only for it to go into his body. 

“I’m going to miss this room. I’m going to miss this entire town.” 

“It’s not going to be the same without you. I mean, who am I going to hang out with next summer?”

Mabel laughed, “I’m sure you’ll find someone.” 

Dipper wiped his eyes, trying to hold back the water coming forth. 

“Dipper? Will you take care of Waddles?” 

“Of course I will. He’s surprisingly grown on me.” 

Mabel laughed, a bright, happy, room-filling laugh. After that the two talked. About home, about the town, about their friends, and their family, about everything that had happened over the summer, and what ever came to mind. Mabel glanced out the window as the sky turned orange. 

“Dipper? Can you promise me you’re not going to fall apart?” Mabel asked, pulling her knees to her chest. “I know we’ve been together forever, but I can’t stay and I don’t want you to fall apart because I’m not here and I know we were always two parts of a whole and it’s gonna be hard, but you have to try! Please?” 

Dipper blinked, “I’ll try, Mabel. So we’re on to the serious stuff now? Does that mean what I think it means?” 

Mabel nodded, “Yeah.” 

Dipper sighed, “Mabel… I don’t know if I can do this without you… Everything we’ve accomplished this summer has been together.” 

“Don’t be stupid!” the temperature in the room started to rise as Mabel pouted at her brother. “You’re the awesomest, smartest, most capable person I know! You can do anything you put your mind too and I know it’s gonna be great!” 

“But do you have to go?” Mabel sighed, “It hurts, Dipper. Dying hurt. Like a lot. And it still hurts. I’m not supposed to be here, not anymore. And Grandpa Shermie says it all stops hurting if I just go into the light.” 

“Grandpa’s there?” 

Mabel nodded, smiling. “He’s so happy to see me, Dipper. I know everything’s going to be okay.” 

“I’m still gonna miss you.” 

“I’m gonna miss you too, silly! But I better not see you for a loooooong time! You got it!? If you show up before you die naturally I’m gonna beat you up!” Dipper laughed, this time feeling a little happier. 

Mabel hesitated for a second before she wrapped her arms around him, sort of. Dipper felt like he was being wrapped in warmth and he wrapped his own arms around her carefully. It wasn’t quite right, but it was close and all the feelings were still there, so it was good.  

“Alright, Grandpa. I’m ready.” 

Mabel stepped back and smiled at her brother, waving goodbye as she slowly faded into a ball of blue light. The Mabel-ball floated upward and phased through the ceiling. Dipper ran to the window and watched as a shooting star streaked across the sky. Mabel’s star glowed just a little bit brighter in the sky. Dipper let tears fall down his face as he stared up at his sister’s star. 

“Bye Mabel. I hope you really are happy there. I’m gonna miss you.”

[kutee-boutique-fan-blog]

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No more of MTM, less of “this”. Mary Tyler Moore, introduced feminism to not be obnoxious but important and not making issues, just showing the new need. It introduced diversity without a situation, just because it was past time. She & Grant Tinker first t.v.”s 1st power couple. 1st girl next door to come out with alcoholism. 1st to have a 1st lady on their program, (which helped her discover she (MTM), was an alcoholic because Betty Ford was too. So many firsts I can’t even remember.

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What do expect with a witch from hell. She just had a baby ok sacrifice poor baby it’s so sad why these type of women have babies not for any good. Now she put her fat horrible looking self on here but naked dam trick the whole dam world have so your Nasty Horrible looking body evil witch from hell. And you not cute sexy period fake as a three dollar bill. You need cover up your fat horrible self and go so where and put on some dam clothes because they air brush your stupid self just a dam disgrace from hell.

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Darren Paul Cass Telling a person of color that race is only in their head is literally unbuddhist and anti-human. You don’t get to define for people of color if race is real or not. We are oppressed. We live the reality of racism. Learn to listen to people before putting forth concepts of enlightenment to which one must first learn compassion rather than assertion to achieve. May your journey be fruitful.  Luane Vella Only not by name – yet. Otherwise she shares all the other disgusting, cheap, trashy characteristics of the rest of the Trashy family.

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she and the kardashians are not role models that young men and women today should be idolizing. all they want is attention and popularity. Nasty thing to say Andrew Sinnott. Elise has been unlucky not to win more medals in her career. Hopefully this can be the springboard she needs to go even further. Well done Elise. All four were great actresses. It’s sad that only Betty White is the only one alive today. I love Bea Arthur from her appearances on All in the Family and her show Maude. I first saw Betty White when she was on Mary Tyler Moore. I still watch The Golden Girls. Now my kids watch it and are fans.

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Yes, I watched it when it first aired. She is kinda like a Sophia/Blanche combo on Hot in Cleveland. She has even played a hatred mean spirited bigot role in a movie. Nothing like the real Betty White. She is very convincing actress. I love her personality and kindness. She loves animals. The Golden Girl Thank You For Being A Friend Shirt.  No, she could have easily pulled that off. Betty played Suzanne on the Mary Tyler Moore Show. Suzanne was a total tramp. Plus her most recent character on Hot in Cleveland, Elsa was far from sweet an innocent like Rose. Some of her movies she was not a sweet heart like Rose. She is a very good actress.