#sure you can argue that he thinks mabel can already stand up for herself and doesn't need help

[tiredandoptimistic]

Stan and the cycle of abuse

Like a week ago I saw this good post about Stan and the twins, how with Mabel he's silly because that's what he never got but with Dipper he's stern because that's what he needed. I think the last line was about how punching was all Stan every felt he was good at. Anyways, it wormed it's way into my brain and I typed out a whole response, but it got eaten by tumblr and I lost the original so now I'm just making my own post.

What's so interesting to me about Stan's philosophy towards raising kids is that he's trying to pass on the lessons that saved his life. We don't get too many details about what his life in the time between being kicked out and the portal incident, but it's more than enough to make it clear that he's wound up in just about every shitty situation a person can find. Like he tells Ford, he's been to prison in three different countries and once had to chew his way out of the trunk of a car. He's homeless and living out of his car and motel rooms. He doesn't even have enough money to pay for a loaf of bread. He's got a bat ready to protect himself from "goons" coming to collect on some sort of debt. Being a tough guy and quick liar who'll kick anybody's ass is what's let him survive to age thirty. When Stan gets thrown to the curb, he yells "I don't need you, I don't need anyone!" and he's more or less right. Sure, he's gone through some awful stuff; but as soon as he got a stable house to live in he builds up his own business that thrives for thirty years. The lessons in boxing and cheating and "being a man" paid off in a big way, so that's what he wants to pass along to Dipper. That way, when the world picks a fight, he'll be able to fight back.

Here's the thing though: Stan shouldn't have had to do any of that.

Yes, Filbrick's "tough love" parenting is what prepared Stan for life on the streets, but it's also what tossed him out on the streets to begin with. If Filbrick was really a good dad, he wouldn't have left his seventeen-year-old son to fend for himself. Stan doesn't seem willing to acknowledge this, probably due in part to the extreme guilt and self-loathing he feels leading him to believe that he deserved the treatment he got. Filbrick was straight-up abusive in a lot of what we've seen of him, but Stan sees that as just how boys are raised, so it's what he passes on to Dipper.

It's just something about how Stan is desperate to prepare Dipper for the horrors while also fiercely protecting him. He wants to toughen Dipper up, but Dipper doesn't need to be tough and independant like Stan because he's got the support system Stan never had. If he ever got kicked out by his parents, Dipper would have Stan, Ford, Mabel, Soos, Wendy, and the entire freaking town of Gravity Falls lining up to give him someplace to stay and a warm meal. Sure, Dipper had to fight literal actual monsters at a very young age, but he was never alone for it. When Dipper falls, there's someone to catch him.

I simply love how Stan's attempts to be a good guardian lead to him being kinda shitty in an attempt to protect Dipper from things that he'll never have to face precisely BECAUSE Stan is such a good guardian. I hope that at some point he realizes that the way his dad treated him was fucked up, and that Dipper deserves some of the straighforward caring that he seems to have an easier time expressing towards Mabel.

[ugly-crying-over-bucky-barnes]

Roguish Women Part 46

Summary: Kate is an American who fled to Paris to escape her past life. Now she's dancing and  playing the part of a courtesan at the Moulin Rouge. There she meets Tommy Shelby who thinks she can be useful in expanding his empire. But has he been blinded?

Part 46: Right before the storm, there’s a calm. 

            “Easy…easy.” Tommy enveloped Kate into his arms. The second he had told her what happened, she had gone into a panic. “It’s going to be alright.”

            Her knees buckled as she cried into his shoulder. “I told you! All that time ago, I told you! If John had just apologized. If you had made peace with the Changrettas none of this would’ve happened. I told you, Tommy, I told you.”

            “What’s done is done.” He pulled up a chair for her in the kitchen and eased her into it. “But you can’t have a fit.”

            Kate wiped her eyes on her sleeve and looked at him. She hiccuped as she studied his expression. “You’re lying to me about something.”

            His brow creased slightly, an obvious tell that she was right. Maybe he had been hoping that the news would be so upsetting to her that she wouldn’t notice anything amiss.

            “I don’t believe that anything could’ve happened. You had the entire place on lockdown, you were in on it with Alfie. You…” It dawned on her. “You knew they were going to come and kill him. You let them kill your own brother?” She shouted.

            “No!” He grabbed her wrists before she could start getting some hits in. “No, he-” Tommy huffed. Leave it to his fiancée to unravel his plan in mere seconds. “He’s not dead.”

            There was fire in Kate’s eyes. The second his grip loosened on her, she whacked him in the shoulder so hard he actually flinched. “So, you wanted everyone to mourn another one of your brothers?” She snapped. “You just love to toy with everyone’s emotions, don’t you, Thomas?”

            “If you’d let me explain…”

            “Y’know what I did tonight? I murdered Mickey. You’re down one less Italian thanks to me. But you’re behind the scenes playing everyone like fucking puppets while everyone else does your fucking dirty work!” She continued to rant.

            “Oi!” He yelled over her. “If you’d let me fucking explain.”

            Kate was fuming but didn’t say another word, allowing him to continue.

            “We needed Luca to think Arthur was dead. You know the rules of a vendetta.”

            “There are no fucking rules. You think Luca’s going to suddenly go back to New York because he thinks he killed John and Arthur? Tommy, he wants your empire, and the only way he’s going to get that if we’re all dead.” Kate reminded him sternly. “He doesn’t respect some rule of getting even.”

            “He doesn’t. But his mother does.”

 ~~~~~~~~~~ 

            “Shelby residence.”

            “You really answer the phone that way, huh? Far as I’m concerned you ain’t a Shelby yet, love.”

            Kate smiled when she heard Alfie’s voice on the other end of the line. The day had been a mess of emotions as they faked Arthur’s funeral and met with Audrey Changretta. The more time passed, the more anxious Kate became. The end was coming very quickly and she couldn’t predict how things were going to play out. “Did you arrive safely at Margate?” She asked.

            “Yeah, well wouldn’t be calling you, now would I?”

            She laughed softly. “I was just being polite.”

            “Should be asking if all of you got out safely.”

            “I assume you already know.”

            “Yeah, right, well I do pride myself in having eyes and ears all ‘round the country. It’s a nice thing to have. Keeps me well informed in matters even if they ain’t none of my business.”

            “And what have your ears been hearing?” She asked.

            “The rest of Changretta’s men, including the man himself, stormed me bakery today. M’sure they were intending to take it as their own. Had a feeling they would.” Alfie replied.

            “And?”

            “Well, unfortunately, your fiancée’s trick of hiding grenades didn’t work out this time.”

            Kate rolled her eyes. “Jesus, Alfie, you were willing to blow up that whole building out of spite?”

            “If I can’t have it, no one can.” He retorted almost like a child. “Not that they would’ve done business well there anyway.” He mumbled to himself.

            “Well, if they’re there, Alfie, then I’m guessing they took over the building whether you like it or not.”

            “Right, but how long could they have control over it, aye? Just until ‘ol blue eyes comes in to end them all?”

            A sly smile crossed Kate’s lips. “Alfie Solomons, is that faith in Tommy Shelby I hear?”

            “Now hang on. This phone call weren’t meant to sing praise. Just stating some facts. ‘Sides, if it were me in his shoes those bastards would’ve been dead weeks ago.” He asserted.

            “So, you were just calling to tell me about the bakery?”

            “Partly. Also, when you run those rats out of the country, I would ask you to extend the bakery to Alice Diamond.”

            Kate looked a little shocked. “Alice? I’m not sure I understand.”

            “Y’know they’ve had hands in Camden Town for years without me permission. But I turned a blind eye because I am a very forgiving man and frankly, I would go to great lengths to avoid a meeting with that woman. If she wants to try her hand at baking, under your guidance, I think it might make a good fit. I’d rather have people I know take it over than some American fucks, you excluded.”

            Kate smiled. “You’re being awfully generous for one day. Is there any other reason?”

            Alfie cleared his throat. “I perhaps have to thank you and one of Alice’s she-devils for my current situation. Lillian, to be specific.”

            “Oh…I see. You took my advice then.”

            He took a deep breath as if it pained him to admit she was right. “I extended an invitation to Mabel to come visit me in Margate.”

            “And she said yes, of course.”

            “If ya wanted to talk to yourself, I might as well not have called, smug girl.” He retorted. “Don’t need you finishing me sentences like a fucking parrot.”

            Kate stifled a giggle. “Well, I’m very happy for you. Truly, Alfie, I am.”       

            “Right…” He didn’t seem to know how to respond.

            “And maybe one day soon I’ll come visit you and Mabel.”

            “She’s just visiting don’t get…” He groaned knowing he wasn’t going to win. “I suppose that’ll be alright. Although I’m not quite open to the idea of Tommy coming too. Lethe, right, it’s a very peaceful place and he’d just fuck that up, wouldn’t he?”

            “Lethe, am I supposed to know what that is?” She asked.

            “It’s what I’ve called the home I’ve bought. I’m not about to explain the intricate workings of Greek mythology to you.”

            “I see.” Kate turned when she heard the door open and Tommy came in. “Well, suppose we bring along the children, would that negate Tommy’s presence?”

            Her fiancée rolled his eyes knowing exactly who was on the other end of the line.

            “I’d consider it,” Alfie replied.

            “Glad to hear it. But I’ll have to go now, Alfie, it was nice talking to you and say hello to Mabel for me when she arrives.” The two friends exchanged goodbyes before Kate hung up the phone.

            “So now you and Alfie gossip over the phone?” Tommy asked, taking off his cap and coat.

            “Well, he called to tell me Luca and his men took over the bakery. At least for the time being.” She reported. “And also, that I was right.”

            “Yeah? Right about what?” The news about the bakery didn’t particularly bother him. Who cares if Luca had a warehouse full of rum? His days were numbered anyway.

            Kate followed him into the parlor. “Right about the fact that I could find someone for him. I did.”

            Tommy raised an eyebrow in surprise. “Then I’m glad I didn’t let you bet anything on it.” He sat down and patted his thigh.

            She smiled and eagerly curled up on his lap. “You still would get me something for being right.” She murmured and kissed down his jaw.

            “What do you want, then?”

            “Hm…” She thought to herself for a bit. “How about a nice wedding to the man I love?”

            Tommy chuckled. “You’re already getting that.” He reminded her. “Just have to be patient.

            “Then that’s all I want.” She rested her cheek on his shoulder.

            “Was worried you were going to ask for a summer home in Margate so you and Alfie could be neighbors and torment me.”

            She laughed softly. “I’m not that cruel.” With a heavy sigh, she returned to the real problem at hand. “Who were you going to the office to call?” She asked.

            Tommy was quiet for a moment. “I don’t think you’ll like the answer.” He admitted.

            Kate lifted her head to look at him. “Tom…who was it?”

 ~~~~~~~~~~~~

            It was a long argument while Polly and Tommy were gathering paperwork. Tommy was ready to ship Kate out to Margate to be as far away from the action as possible. He was confident enough in the plan, but if there was even a slim chance of Kate getting hurt, he wasn’t going to risk it.

            But she wasn’t having it. “So, I’m supposed to sit by the phone to wait and hear if he’s killed you or not?” Kate snapped.

            It was an already tense enough scene organizing the papers for the company. Polly was there as a fly on the wall for most of it, silently signing papers and glancing back and forth between the two arguing.

            “What choice do I have, aye?” Tommy, who was under a considerable amount of stress, was not about to lose this battle. “You’re the perfect target for him, Kate. I told you time and time again that I won’t have you dealing with any of this because you’re pregnant. Yet time and time again, you’ve stuck yourself in. This is the final stand and I won’t have you there. You aren’t changing my mind.”

            “You’re not the one who decides where I go, Thomas.”

            “Why do you feel the need to put yourself in unnecessary danger?” He asked exasperated that she was still pushing the matter.

            “Because I’m a part of this family and I will stand with this family.” She crossed her arms over her chest.

            “You’d be willing to put the lives of our children at risk because you want to prove some fucking point?” He demanded.

            Kate’s resolve faltered. Her stomach was in knots, it had been for days. “Tom, if something happens to you and I’m not there…” Her voice trembled.

            Polly finally had to step in. She touched Kate’s arm gently. “Darling, nothing is going to happen. We’ll be alright.”

            “Then there’s no reason for me not to be there.” She asserted.

            Tommy exhaled sharply and forcefully stubbed his cigarette into the ashtray mixed within the sea of paperwork on his desk. “What would I do, aye, if something happened to you? I’ve risked enough.”

            “But if it’s just Luca against all of us then how could you think that anything could go wrong?”

            “Because I’m not letting that chance happen. Now go home, I’m done fighting about this with you. The answer is no.” He spoke firmly, pointing to the door.

            Kate’s jaw tightened but she decided to turn on her heel and storm out instead of arguing further.

            When the office doors slammed shut, Polly looked up to her nephew. “She’s worried about you, that’s all.”

            “She should be worried about being pregnant.” He grumbled.

            “It will go as planned. And if it doesn’t, then who is Luca going to aim for first?” Polly reasoned with him.

            Tommy sighed and rested his hands on his desk. “I can’t fucking believe you’re siding with her.”

            “I’m not. I just know she’s going to show up there no matter what you say. So, you might as well put her into the plan or you’ll be caught off guard tomorrow.”

            Tommy looked angry that she was right. He couldn’t physically drag Kate into a car and send her off to Alfie’s beach house. “For fuck’s sake.” He muttered.

            Permanent Tag: @papa-geralt-of-cirilla @biba3434 @kimmietea @karmezii @enrapturedbythemoon @vampgirl1997 @tarafaithe @evelynshelby

Tag list: @radical-gecko @actorinfluence @meltingicequeen @merlettina

Masterpost

PB Masterlist

[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.

[minijenn]

Out Too Far Preview 3

Another one of these cause I’m finally hitting my stride with this chapter and getting to the good stuff. I’m saving all the Big Drama moments for the chapter itself, but this is some good buildup to that, so enjoy!

***

“Thank you, Stan,” Garnet said, turning back to the conman as he boredly leaned against his boat. “You should head back to town. Things are going to get messy around here very soon. Trust me.”

“You don’t have to tell me twice, shades,” Stan sneered, preparing to climb back into his boat. That is, until he happened to catch a sudden odd glint on its otherwise empty wooden bottom. “Huh?” Confused, he reached down, realizing that this glint came from the metal of a blade he knew he hadn’t brought with him. A blade that was quickly withdrawn back under the seat it had been peeking out from under the moment he skimmed it. And of course, based on that, it didn’t take Stan very long at all to figure out what was going on here. “Alright, kid, the jig is up,” he said, reaching under the seat in full and grabbing a fistful of his nephew’s vest in the process. Dipper gasped in surprise as the conman hoisted him up, giving him a broad, disapproving look, one that the Gems all shared as they realized he had secretly followed them along.

“O-oh, uh… h-hey, you guys!” he laughed uncomfortably. “Crazy seeing you all here too, huh?”

“Dipper!” Pearl exclaimed, baffled by this reveal. “What on earth are you doing here?! I thought we told you to stay behind at the barn with Mabel and Steven!”

“Y-yeah, you did,” Dipper glanced away sheepishly as Stan finally set him down. “I just… didn’t really choose to listen to you guys on that? Though, I guess that’s kind of obvious since I’m here in the first place…”

“Kid, how’d you even get out here?” Stan asked, arms crossed. “Don’t tell me you stowed away in my trunk. Cause if you did… well, I gotta say I’m kinda impressed. Guess you have more of my genes in you than Ford’s. Heh, remind me to rub that in his face later.”

“Stan! Don’t encourage this kind of behavior!’ Pearl huffed, annoyed.

“Dipper,” Garnet spoke up, her tone stern yet steady. “You know we only told you to stay behind for your own safety.”

“I do know, but you guys don’t have to worry about me!” Dipper insisted, drawing his sword. “I can defend myself, and maybe I won’t even have to do that if I can just find a way to reach Lapis somehow. Who knows? Maybe I might even be able to convince her to unfuse!”

“Convince her?” Amethyst asked, incredulous. “Dude, have you even seen Malachite? She’s like, completely bonkers! I don’t think just talking to her is really gonna solve this one. Though I’ll give you points for coming up with a very Steveny way to deal with it.”

“But I-” Before Dipper could argue his stance any further, the entire island suddenly shook from its very foundation, nearly knocking the entire group to the ground. The entire surface of the lake seemed to ripple, until the shifting waters practically turned into waves. And from those waves, on the far side of the island but still in sight of the group on its shore, a massive shape began to emerge, thrashing against the chains that had once held her down violently and growling in her heated struggle all the while.

“It… it’s her…” Dipper whispered in shock the moment he saw her. All at once, it was as though he had been struck by the very same anguish he had felt when he had first watched her drag herself into the depths far too long ago. The pain he had felt in all of his failed and futile efforts in trying to get her back. But not again, not today. For today he resolved to push that pain aside in the hopes that he could finally be free from it, that they could both finally be free once and for all.

“Stan, get back on the boat and take Dipper back to town,” Garnet ordered firmly. “Now.”

“No!” Dipper protested, though before he could rush forward, Stan swiftly grabbed him by the arm.

“Listen, kid, just because you’ve got some kinda crazy death wish doesn’t mean I do,” the conman remarked as he began to drag his nephew back towards the boat. “Now c’mon, let’s skip outta here while we still can.”

No sooner had Stan said this, however, then a massive wave, caused by Malachite’s continued fearsome struggling against herself, suddenly burst out of the water and crashed onto the shore. Amethyst acted quickly, shifting herself into an umbrella large enough to shield the entire group, lest they be carried away by the water entirely. But what hadn’t been spared was Stan’s boat, which was easily dragged out of the shore’s reach when the wave quickly retreated. Given how tumultuous the lake’s surface already was thanks to the restless fusion, it didn’t take long for yet another high wave to overwhelm the small boat entirely, snapping it clean in half before dragging both halves down into the depths.

“Nooooo!” Stan cried, running out into the shallows to try and salvage his sinking ship. “My boat!”

“Well, that’s… convenient,” Dipper noted largely to himself before turning back to the Gems with a triumphant grin. “Oh well, looks like you guys have to let me stay here and help after all.”

“No, we don’t,” Pearl shook her head, adamant. “Both of you need to find somewhere to hide where Malachite won’t be able to see you. As destructive and out of control as she is, there’s no telling what she’d do if she spotted two humans in her range.”

“Oh, come on!” Dipper sighed petulantly, getting incredibly tired of being told no on this matter.

“No, you come on, kid,” Stan reiterated, grabbing Dipper’s arm once more and more or less dragging him towards the island’s dense forest. “It’s bad enough I lost my only boat, I’m not about to lose my only life too. Oh, and uh, you I guess.”

Dipper scowled, quite disgruntled as the conman forced him just past the tree line and into the woods. However, just past that tree line happened to be pair of Watermelon Stevens, completely oblivious to the danger that was only just beginning to beset their peaceful island home. Instead, they were simply content to enjoy playing their makeshift bongos together, or at least they were until one of them suddenly seized up and collapsed to the ground before snapping back to life just as quickly.

When Steven awakened, it didn’t take him very long to realize that his aim had been successful. For sure enough, with a single glance down, he found the short, green, stubby legs of one of his watermelon doubles rather than his own. The young Gem allowed himself a small celebratory cheer at this (or as much of a cheer as he could get out since his speech was quite limited in this form) before quickly getting up and rushing down to the shore, leaving a very confused other Watermelon Steven behind.

All the same, Steven broke out of the woods only to find the Gems, standing together against Malachite, who was still engrossed in a struggle all her own to the point that she hadn’t even noticed their presence yet. “Alright,” Garnet said, extending her hands out to her teammates. “Let’s put an end to this.”

Pearl and Amethyst agreed, simultaneously breaking into a synchronized, smooth dance towards Garnet, who did the same as she remained stationary. And as the trio met, with hardly any effort at all, their forms lit up, joining together and rising up to form a force that would finally be enough of a match for Malachite herself: Alexandrite.

At the same time, Malachite’s own internal fight only seemed to intensify as she tugged hard against her aquatic chains and manacles. For weeks now, the bonds had remained steady and constant, Lapis’ own intense fortitude and resolve proving enough to weigh them both down. However, Jasper wasn’t the type to let herself stay buried under the surface for too long, and sure enough, she had brutishly pushed her way past the blue Gem’s restraints, entirely bursting free from them entirely.

“Augh! Give UP!” the twisted fusion shouted, her disjointed voice echoing across the lake. With one final, fierce pull, the watery chains snapped, at last releasing Malachite, or rather, her more vicious half from her lengthy imprisonment. “Finally…” she grinned, rubbing her wrist where the manacles had once held her. “I’m impressed. You really held out.”

“MALACHITE!” Alexandrite’s fearsome shot rippled across the water as the powerful fusion splashed into the shallows of the lake herself, ready to square off. While initially surprised, Malachite sneered as she turned to her, recognizing well the group of Gems that this opposing fusion was composed of.

“Hmph, they’re here. Figures they’d come running to protect all those stupid humans,” the twisted fusion turned her nose up at the crowd of townsfolk still spectating on the distant main shore. Even so, as submerged in their shared mind as she now was, Malachite’s other half growled in protest at the thought of exactly who might possibly be within that group. “Ugh! Stop!” she hissed, forcing her other half back into the darkness of their fusion’s existence. “Pathetic! Don’t you see? We’ve been holding us back for too long! And for what? If we’re going to be this thing together, why don’t we have some fun?”

“We don’t have to fight!” Alexandrite appealed, all six of her hands clenched into tight fists. “You’re outnumbered.”

Malachite didn’t respond right away, bowing her head low as she tightened her own fists for battle. As she did, two similar arms rose up from the water, composed entirely of liquid and just as ready for the fray ahead as she was. “I may be outnumbered… but you’re out of your depth!” With two swift sings, the water fists both slammed into Alexandrite, catching her off guard and sending her stumbling back in the water, unsteady but hardly ready to fall to pieces so easily. “I can’t wait to tear you Gems apart!”

[anistarrose]

Some Sunny Day - Chapter 8: It Won’t Be Long (Gravity Falls - Same Coin Theory)

Summary: Mabel bursts some bubbles, Dipper cracks a code, and Ford makes a wisdom saving throw.

Warnings: manipulation, flashbacks to torture (see note below for more detail)

Previous / Next

The Beginning (see here for AO3 link)

(The Same Coin Theory is by @dubsdeedubs and @renmorris, and this chapter was beta’d by @porkpop!)

Given the subject matter, I guess it’s fitting that this fic would appear to die and then unexpectedly rise from the ashes months later, isn’t it? In all seriousness, I’m sorry it took so long (life has been… not exactly conducive to writing multichapter fics lately) and hope this update ends up being worth the wait! Good news, though — I wrote my first draft of Chapter 9 a while back, so the next update should come in a much more timely manner!

Important warning: This chapter contains flashbacks to torture by electrocution. The torture itself isn’t described in particularly graphic detail, but a decent amount of time is spent describing the consequences (there are references to temporary character death as well as to PTSD) so if you don’t want to read those parts but want to continue following the fic, feel free to ask me for a summary of the chapter with potentially upsetting parts omitted.

(On a lighter note, there’s a reference to one of my favorite GF fics in this chapter, so see if you can spot it!)

In another world of shimmering bubbles and wispy pink clouds, deep within a mountaintop temple, an Oracle addressed her patron.

“If he is to remember,” she asked, “it will be soon, won’t it?”

From within one of the bubbles, a frill-wreathed head bounced up and down in a nod. Its voice was musical and ethereal, like the sound of distant wind chimes.

“If you wish to help them, then now is the time.”

Jheselbraum bowed, and departed to an adjacent room of the temple where she kneeled down on a simple, woven mat. Concentrating on a single image — the face shared by two brothers whose destinies were so tightly intertwined with that of a demon, forming tangled loops that crisscrossed all across time and space, spanning eons and dimensions — her eyes blinked closed. When they opened again, they were glowing a faint lilac purple, and watching the events of a dream as it played out within the mindscape of Stanley Pines.

Interacting with the flow of time in such a way that it already knew the results, yet still observing intently, the Axolotl smiled.

It wouldn’t be long now.

***

Mere moments into her quest to break out of her dream bubble and save Stan, Mabel had an unpleasant realization: this time, she could see no literal bubble to burst — and therefore, no clear way to escape the dream world. No way back to her family.

Oh god, what if she fell back under the bubble’s spell before she could find a way to escape? And what if she didn’t snap out of it the next time —

“Think, Mabel, think,” she murmured to herself. “Don’t panic, there’s gotta be a way out somewhere…”

She heard movement in a nearby room of the Shack, and tiptoed away in the other direction, slipping into the gift shop and hunkering down behind the counter. The scenery around her was a good approximation of how the Shack really looked, but now that she knew she was in an illusion, the only thing that felt real was her pounding heart.

What would Ford want me to do? Stay calm, stay safe, and think through things logically, right?

She took a deep breath. Okay, Mabel, take it from the top. What’s the situation? What do you know?

She was in a dream, created by Stan because he was afraid of Bill. (Well, afraid of something, but what could it possibly be if not Bill?) It didn’t seem like Stan had realized she was aware of being in an illusion, so that was something she had going for her. He probably wouldn’t be actively trying to stop her, at least not yet.

And if she’d gotten here after being doused in the dark water, then Dipper and Soos were probably in dream bubbles of their own — maybe even Ford too, by this point. She had to get back to the regular mindscape, and see if he was alright. Or better yet, find Dipper and Soos’s bubbles and bring them back with her —

Right, she was still technically in the mindscape, wasn’t she? Which meant that if she focused on something hard enough, imagined it vividly enough…

She climbed out from behind the counter and rested her hand on the gift shop’s doorknob, bracing herself to open it and leave the Shack.

Okay, door, listen up, she thought. When I open you, you’re going to take me back to Dipper. In three, two, one…

She swung it open and a freezing black flood rushed in, knocking her backwards. With great effort, she opened her eyes to see the colors of the dream dissolving around her, and reforming new bubbles that floated in the ink-black sea, beckoning her with their colorful fantasies.

There was Ford, safe and holding hands with Stan and eight other familiar faces in a nearly complete circle. Eyes lit up with an optimism she hadn’t seen in him all day, Ford gave her an encouraging smile and reached towards her —

“Just take my hand, and we can complete the Zodiac!” he exclaimed. “We can banish Bill once and for all, together!”

She could feel her hands drifting over, fingers outstretched and ready to wrap around Ford’s own — but she yanked away at the last second, wrapping her arms tight around her shivering chest. A faint glow emanated from the star on her sweater, melting away the icicles on the tips of her numb finger and shining through her foggy, jumbled thoughts like the guiding beam of a lighthouse, exposing the true nature of the treacherous sea surrounding her.

It was never going to be as easy as holding hands, not this time. She knew better than to let any dreams within dreams convince her otherwise.

She took a strenuous step forward against the flow of the current, and the rejected bubbles burst as new illusions appeared in front of her, each singing a different siren song of temptation.

Here, Ford never fell into the portal.

Here, Ford and Stan never argued in the first place.

Here, you never broke your promise to help Dipper with the laptop, and he never got possessed by Bill…

Some of the visions hurt more than others, and she forced herself to look away. “Dipper?” she called out. “Soos? Grunkle Ford?”

There was no reply, except for a new stream of bubbles rising from the depths to float in front of her. In the closest one, she could see Bill Cipher warp and distort, limbs glitching and flickering as his pupil dilated in fear, and Mabel just knew that one good punch was all it would take to shatter that triangle beyond hope of repair —

And it would have been so satisfying, so cathartic, to deliver that punch, but she was painfully aware of it just being fantasy. It was exactly what she had hoped to find, exactly what she had envisioned as a best case scenario — Bill not just weakened, but completely distinct from Stan, easily separated and destroyed — and she couldn’t help but wonder if the illusion had been summoned entirely from Stan’s mind, or from her own.

Something about a larger bubble on her left side caught her attention. It just felt tangibly distinct from the others — still pulling her towards it, but in a different way. She was drawn to this one because it was… well, not entirely real, but more real than anything else around her. It was more familiar, more comforting — and not like the guilt-laced comfort of denial, but like the warm, genuine solace of companionship.

She approached it one step at a time, careful not to let the current around her lift her feet off the ground and wash her out of reach. She was scarcely five feet away when the voice of the bubble suddenly grew clear, and she realized — it wasn’t calling out to her like the other bubbles had, but rather having a conversation with itself.

No, not with itself. With someone already trapped within its illusion.

“All right, we’re rolling in three… two… one…”

“Welcome back to Guide to Haunted Mansions with Dipper and the Pines Family! Today, we’re coming to you from my uncle’s lab, where we’re running some tests on the ghost we captured last episode! Be sure to check that one out if you missed it, because —”

She could see Dipper now — appearance distorted by the bubble’s convex barrier, but unmistakably (and so relievingly) him. He was in a sophisticated but messy-looking laboratory, Ford smiling proudly at his side and Soos standing behind the camera…

But even a ways outside, and with the current working against her, Mabel could make out a spark of light in Dipper’s eyes that the other two lacked. Relief washed over her as she realized she’d found her real brother — accompanied by no small amount of worry for the real Ford and Soos, still nowhere to be seen.

“Dipper!” she called out. “This isn’t real! You have to get out of there!”

The water garbled her voice, distorting it so much that it sounded unintelligible even to her, but Dipper frowned as she spoke. Glancing between Ford and Soos, he asked:

“Did you guys hear that? Was that an audio glitch or something?”

Both the illusions shook their heads as Mabel spat out water, fighting against the tide to get closer to the bubble.

“Dipper, you’re in Stan’s mindscape, remember? It’s a dream bubble, like — like the one Bill trapped me in last summer!”

This time her words came out clearer, and Dipper turned around, somehow both looking right at her and staring right past her at once.

“No, that… that doesn’t make sense,” he murmured. “Bill’s gone…”

Ford put a comforting hand on his shoulder. “Of course he is. We’re safe from him now — and Stan and Mabel are, too.”

The current around Mabel grew fiercer, threatening to drag her backwards, but she managed to wrap her arms around the bubble, hugging it as tightly as she could.

“We came to Stan’s mind to stop Bill!” she yelled. “You remember that, right?”

Dipper shook his head. “I — I don’t know…”

“You can remember! You can snap out of it — I know you can, because you snapped me out of it last summer! You’re stronger than this cheap trap, I know you are!”

Dipper grabbed his head, shuddering and gritting his teeth as the bubble began to distort. Hand still on Dipper’s shoulder, not-Ford’s eyes turned a dull red.

Please, Dipper, Mabel thought, I don’t know how much longer I can hold on…

The facsimile Ford’s form began to darken — at first fading to a monochrome shadow of his former self, and then melting like tar, liquifying into a shuddering column of darkness that spewed out rivers of black ink all around the lab just as quickly as it spewed out lies.

Do you really want to go back there, Dipper? Back to everyone you love being in grave danger? Back to not understanding what’s happening to them or how to help them? Do you want to go back to that uncertainty, to that fear?

Tendrils of darkness crept towards Dipper from every angle, surrounding him as if preparing for an embrace.

Here, Bill is dead for good. Stan is safe from him, and his mindscape is perfectly normal and healthy. Here we’re all safe, and happy, and living the lives we’ve always wanted. It’s not so hard to pretend —

Dipper finally met Mabel’s eyes, just staring at her for a moment. As the tendrils snaked closer and closer to him, he looked down again and took a deep breath.

“Dipper! Let’s beat Bill and save Stan together!”

He turned back towards Mabel and smiled, extending both arms in her direction.

“Awkward sibling hug?” he whispered.

The tendrils recoiled in shock as Mabel plunged her hands into the bubble, grabbed ahold of her brother, and pulled.

***

Ice-cold waves submerged Dipper like he’d plunged into an Antarctic sea, and a numbness quickly overtook him, paralyzing his chest and racing up his arms to —

It didn’t reach his fingertips. Mabel’s hand was warm even as she released him from her embrace, and Dipper realized that he could see her clearly now — a bright spot in the darkness, radiating determination like a falling star lighting up the endless void of the night.

Instantly, the last wisps of fog clouding his brain evaporated away, and everything fell into place — how it wasn’t Bill trapping them in the bubbles, but Stan himself. How finding and destroying Bill would have to mean finding a way to pierce through Stan’s own denial.

“I’m so glad I found you,” Mabel blurted out, and pulled him back into a hug. “I — I wasn’t sure I could save everyone alone.”

“Well,” he told her as he returned the embrace, “you sure saved me.”

The current raged around them, sending them spinning — but for all its strength, it couldn’t even come close to tearing them apart.

***

Ford stepped out of the portal to a not just familiar, but nostalgic sight — a temple carved of pink-tinted marble stone, craggy mountain peaks peering out from the blanket of clouds beneath them.

“Jheselbraum?” he called out, and the curtains at the entrance to the shine parted, revealing a humanoid figure clad in flowing red and purple robes.

All seven of her eyes blinked, and then a smile spread across her face. “Stanford! It’s good to see you again — and you’ve brought friends this time!”

“Sure did!” Stan said. “The guy would be lost without us. I’m Stan, nice to —”

She laughed. “Don’t worry, Stanley, I know who you are. And you must be Mr. McGucket?”

Distracted for the moment, Fiddleford tapped one of several pink bubbles that had floated out of the shrine. Its shape distorted, but it didn’t burst. “Would you look at that…ah, yes, sorry! McGucket, that’s me alright — though ya can just call me Fiddleford or Fidds. It’s a pleasure to meet ya!”

“Likewise! Would you three like to come inside? I know the view out here is spectacular the first hundred or so times you see it, but it’s honestly even more interesting in there.”

“Of course!”

Ford led the way in, marveling at the richly colored tapestries lining the halls. “Jhes, do you weave these yourself? I don’t think I saw this many the last time I visited.”

“I do! You’ll find some seers and oracles that weave their predictions directly into their tapestries, but I honestly just need to be doing something with my hands while I concentrate on seeing the future.”

“I can relate,” Fiddleford chimed in. “Er, not that I’m a prophet or anythin’, but I can never figure out what’s wrong with my code unless I’m fidgeting with somethin’ in a free hand.”

Something in a room to the side caught Ford’s eye, and he stopped so suddenly that Stan nearly slammed into him from behind. “I never got a chance to ask you before, but — why do you have so many tapestries of axolotls?” He felt like he had a second question on the tip of his tongue, but it stayed stubbornly just out of reach no matter how hard he tried to remember it.

Jheselbraum smiled knowingly, not so much with her mouth as with her eyes. “The Axolotl has always been something of a kindred spirit towards those who seek to see beyond the linear flow of time,” she pronounced, “and I like to show my gratitude this way.”

“The Axolotl, with a capital A…” Ford mused. “I’m sorry, Jhes — just a few weeks ago, I’m sure there was something I was thinking I’d like to ask you, but… it’s escaping me now.”

Jheselbraum put a hand on Ford’s shoulder, and a dull purple glow rippled across her eyes, so briefly that Ford would have missed it if he’d blinked. When she spoke again, her voice was soft and echoing, as if originating from the other end of a long hallway — but also more lively, more lifelike, the subtle accent a bit more pronounced and the inflection of her words more rhythmic, more poem-like.

“Did you want to ask why the Axolotl watched over your brother’s house, for all those years? Why it manifested before Stanley, of all people?”

“That’s — I think that’s it, I…” The ground ceased to feel solid beneath Ford’s feet, and a wave of nausea washed over him as he was suddenly uncomfortably aware of how sluggish and muddled his thoughts felt, as if stifled by fog. “There’s something — something wrong about this place, isn’t there? What am I… how did I get here? Is —”

“Hey, Sixer! Check out what I found!”

Simply hearing Stan’s voice was an instant relief, a rope he could grab onto and use to pull himself out of the stormy, disorienting sea of uncertainty he’d found himself cast adrift in. “Huh? What is it?”

Stan frowned. “You okay? I’ve never seen you not recognize a D38 at first glance.” Sure enough, he held a thirty-eight sided die in each hand, one purple and the other blue.

“I… it’s just the thin mountain air getting to me, I think. Where did you find those?”

Stan snickered, pulling aside a tapestry that hung over the doorway to a room Ford had passed by. “Oh, you ain’t seen anything yet. Feast your eyes, nerd!”

The room had two sides that were completely open aside from ornate marble guard railings, providing a stellar view as the first of the world’s three purple moons began to rise above the horizon, but Ford’s attention was instead captivated by the table at the center. Crisscrossing gridlines glowed a dull blue-green, dividing the surface into hundreds of tiny squares, and holographic projections cycled through a variety of miniaturized, perfectly adventure-suited environments — a lush oasis within a dust storm-battered desert, a sprawling and bustling space station floating just above the rings of a pink gaseous planet, an impenetrable-seeming castle of gray brick overlooking a murky moat and surrounded by expansive and bountiful farmlands.

“Jheselbraum, have you always had this?” Ford asked. “You’ve been holding out on me!”

“The last time you were here, you spent every waking moment either recovering from head injuries or drunk on Cosmic Sand. It hardly would have made for a quality campaign.”

Detachedly, Ford realized that the echo was gone from her voice, but he couldn’t help but pay more attention to Stan, who hoisted himself into the throne-like seat at the head of the table and diabolically rubbed his hands together.

“Well, it’s not like we’ve got anywhere else to be, and I’ve got some big ideas up my sleeve… so, who’s up for a game?”

“Stanley, I can think of literally no better way to spend the next six hours to six weeks of my life,” Ford declared. “I’m in.”

***

“You hear the slappin’ tunes, Mr. Pines? That’s how you know it’s a boss battle!”

“Slappin’? Is that seriously how you people describe music these days? And what’s a boss battle?”

“Well, it’s pretty much what happens when you defeat all the minions of the biggest, baddest dude in the level, so then they finally have to throw down with you themself! Doesn’t look like you’re having any trouble with it, though — you must be some kinda natural, ha ha!”

“You bet I am!” Stan laughed as he dealt the final blow, and tossed the controller down triumphantly. “I’m gonna break the young’s monopoly on gaming skills, just you watch —”

The congratulatory chiptune jingle cut off abruptly, and a pattern of static rippled across the TV set. When it subsided, two new character sprites had appeared — two sprites that Soos knew he’d recognize anywhere no matter how stylized, thanks to that lumberjack hat and shooting star sweater.

“Hey, dudes! I was just teaching Stan how to play some of my favorite games — but how’d you two get in there? You’re looking kinda pixely — what happened?”

“Pixely?” Dipper looked down at his hands for a moment, confused, but then shook his head. “Never mind! Soos, this is all just an illusion! You’ve got to snap out of it!”

“All this is just inside Stan’s mindscape, remember?” Mabel added. “You’ve gotta out of there so you can help us stop Bill and save Stan!”

The ripple of static crossed the TV screen again, but this time it spread out all throughout the room, making the furniture and walls flicker and glitch like they were in a corrupted game. A high-pitched electronic whine prompted Soos to clap his hands over his ears, and the light from Mabel’s sweater pulsed in sync with the sound, like the noise and the static were emanating from her and Dipper somehow. Soos felt like he was missing something — why did the two of them look so distraught, with those pixelated frowny faces?

“Are — are you sure, dudes?” he asked. “Stan said Bill was gone, and we were having a lot of fun here — weren’t we, Mr. Pines?”

“‘Course we were!” Stan gently punched him in the arm — too gently, almost intangibly, like it was just a simulation of the actual sensation — “And do I look like I need saving? I’m doin’ great over here, just having a —”

“You don’t look like it, but you do, Stan!” Mabel cried out. “I know you do, and we can help you, I promise we can — but first you have to admit it!”

“No! I’m fine! We’re all fine!” Stan yelled, but dark red and purple pixels began to flicker at the edges of his form. He looked almost two-dimensional as the glitchy appearance slowly crept up his arms, consuming them and disintegrating them into a sea of dark, flashing rectangles that cascaded towards the ground —

“Mr. Pines?” Soos gasped. “Are — are you okay? How —”

Stan extended what was left of an arm in his direction — and then froze in horror, as he saw what the loss of the pixels had exposed.

Four slender, cartoonishly simple fingers trembled in place just inches from Soos’s shoulder — all of them a smooth and solid black, and wreathed in electric blue sparks.

No! Stan’s voice came out desperate and distorted, crackling and cutting out like a broken speaker. PLEASE, no —

Two pairs of human hands grabbed ahold of Soos from behind and pulled him away from Stan, back towards the television. From all directions at once, his ears were filled with a resounding POP —

And then the three of them tumbled down onto the grayscale yet familiar wooden floor of the Mystery Shack’s gift shop, dark clouds above them receding towards the hallway. Just feet away, the vending machine stood shining brighter and bluer than ever, a now all-too-familiar song playing softly from within like the melody from a music box.

Keep smiling through,

Just like you always do,

‘Til the blue skies drive the dark clouds far away!

***

An elven wizard resembling Ford, a human bard resembling Fiddleford, and a silver dragonborn paladin with two additional rows of eyes like Jheselbraum forged a path up a mountain, undeterred by the storm clouds gathering overhead. Their route wasn’t particularly steep, but shrubs and small trees grew all over what had once been a trail, making their climb more tedious than Ford had hoped for.

“So Ford, this dungeon — you say no one’s ever returned from it alive?” Fiddleford asked, absentmindedly plucking his banjo to the tune of Country Roads.

“No one has ever returned from it period, dead or alive,” he answered, shoving a branch out of his face. “Necromancy will likely be of little help to us there. But all the divination magic in the world agrees that the depths of Mt. Somnifell hold, and I quote, ‘all the treasure an adventurer could ever dream of.’ You’re not getting cold feet, are you?”

“More like muddy feet,” Fiddleford groaned, narrowing his eyes and gritting his teeth with clear visceral disgust as looked down at the ground beneath his shoes. “Are we close yet?”

“Should be.” Three of Jheselbraum’s eyes were directed down at a map, while the other four scanned the surrounding area for landmarks and hazards. “Do you see a crooked tree anywhere?”

“Doesn’t look like it,” Ford replied. He craned his neck up towards the sky, past the transparent storm clouds and into the pink marble room surrounding them. “Stan, are there any landmarks that you forgot to imagine into the game and would like to tell us about?”

Stan snorted and leaned over the table, resting his elbows on a neighboring mountain. “Have a little faith, Poindexter! I may be a first time DM over here, but I think you’ll find that I’m the master of the imagination!”

“Fine, I’ll look somewhere else for your dumb tree,” Ford shot back. “Alright, gang, let’s check some other spots at the same altitude — ugh! What’s going on here?”

A long, brown tendril had wrapped around his left ankle and was binding it in place — the root of a nearby oak, he realized.

“It’s got us too!” Jheselbraum called out, drawing her sword. Without hesitation, Fiddleford whacked the root ensnaring him with his banjo, and it seemed to flinch — as much as a semi-mobile plant could flich, at least — but stayed tightly bound.

“I cast Scorching Ray!” Ford declared, and three yellow-orange bolts flew out from the tip of his wand, one striking each of the three tendrils with impressive precision. Several inches of each root instantly crumbled into ash, and the oak tree that they led back to shuddered, green lights flashing in its leaves as a dark-skinned figure with pointed ears and vivid emerald eyes flickered into view. Immediately, they held up their hands in submission.

“Alright, I’m sorry! You’re stronger than I bargained for. I’ll leave you alone now, I promise.” Their voice held a hint of Stan’s hoarseness, but also a distinct inflection pattern of its own.

“You’re a dryad, I presume?” Ford asked, cautiously lowering his wand. “We’re sorry for trespassing on your territory.”

“I suppose dryad is the closest word to it. Most dryads are only tied to one tree, though — I watch over this whole grove, even though I can only control one tree at a time. You can call me Balsa.”

“You must know this region like the back of your hand, then,” Jheselbraum commented, and Balsa beamed, nodding. “Do you think you could help point us towards a certain landmark?”

Their face immediately fell, and they let out a sigh. “It’s the crooked tree, isn’t it? You’re looking for the entrance to the depths?”

“That’s correct. Is something… wrong with that?”

They shook their head. “No, it’s just that… you seem like half-decent people, you know? Same as a lot of other treasure hunters that I’ve seen vanish into that cavern, and never come out. I try to make the plants overrun the trail, make the crooked tree grow straight again so no one can find this place and go boldly marching to their deaths, but…”

They waved their hand halfheartedly, and a mere five meters away, the undergrowth parted to reveal a crack in the earth — a nearly circular dark chasm that rested in the mountain’s light grey stone just as a black hole might sit in the center of a shining galaxy.

“Why are ya showin’ us this?” Fiddleford asked. “You just said ya wanted us to stay out.”

“It’ll call to you anyway.” Balsa sighed dejectedly. “It always does. Everyone who goes looking finds it eventually.”

“How long have you been trying to keep people out?” Jheselbraum hesitantly stepped towards the edge of the chasm, lower row of eyes blinking as she tried to make out what lay within.

“About a century and a half now,” Balsa told her. “The legend draws people in from all four corners of the world, and everywhere in between — seemingly pleasant people like you three, a lot of the time. People whom I wouldn’t expect to be so driven by greed and the promise of treasure. Are you in debt? What is it that draws you to this… this suicide mission?”

“Well, they say money can’t buy happiness, but it doesn’t exactly hurt to have it, either,” Ford replied, and above the table Stan stifled a laugh. “But for us three, I think the main thing drawing us in is the thrill of the discovery. We’re not so much treasure hunters as simply adventurers.”

“Well said,” Jheselbraum told him. “Balsa, we appreciate your concern, but we know the risks of this mission and we’ve made according preparations. If we’re ever in grave danger, we’ve prepared spells to teleport out with. ”

Ford nodded. “The depths of Mt. Somnifell are a mystery that we plan to solve, no matter how many expeditions it takes.”

Balsa shook their head. “Well, I can’t stop you. But I’m not sure you’ll like the solution to that mystery as much as you expect. Will you really remain so dedicated to the truth, if it starts to look like you’re headed towards answers that you don’t want to hear?”

With that, they turned their back and vanished in a burst of green light.

“That was ominous, wasn’t it?” Fiddleford muttered, and then after a pause added: “Well, who’s jumpin’ down that hole first?”

“I think I’ll try to climb, rather than jump, but I’ll be happy to lead the way.” Ford intertwined his fingers and stretched his arms out in front of him, preparing himself for the descent.

“Be careful,” Jheselbraum warned him. “It doesn’t get any brighter down there, and the air flowing out felt humid. It may be slippery.”

“To quote our infinitely wise DM — have a little faith! For one thing, I have dark vision, and for another, I never said I was climbing the rocks themselves.”

One use of Rope Trick later and Ford’s feet safely struck the damp stone floor, having reached the bottom of a twenty-foot long, near-vertical shaft. Fiddleford was about halfway down and had all four limbs wrapped around the rope for dear life, as Jheselbraum brought up the rear and offered words of reassurance.

“Don’t you even think of explorin’ any further without us, Stanford Pines!” Fiddleford shouted, shrill voice echoing loudly. “You’ll just get yourself killed an’ you know it!”

“Relax!” Ford yelled back. “I’m taking a look around, but I’m not moving any deeper in!”

Once he felt certain Fiddleford was more focused on the climb than on him, he took just a tiny step forwards — and then another, and one more after that, because he really had expected to be able see a bit further down here with his dark vision —

The world around him went white, and two firm hands came out of nowhere to grasp both of his shoulders. Jheselbraum stood facing him in the featureless bright space, once again in a robed human form… and with glowing purple eyes.

“I think something’s wrong with your table, Jhes. This doesn’t look like something that should be happening in a campaign —”

“Ford, please listen to me — you’re falling more deeply entranced by the second. I don’t know if I’ll be able to get through to you again at this rate — you must snap out of it! I know it’s an upsetting truth to face, but you are strong enough, and so is your family, as long as you all face this together. I believe in —”

Ford blinked, and he was back in the cave. Fiddleford kneeled a few feet behind him, looking relieved enough to kiss the ground if only he could see it in the darkness, and Jheselbraum gracefully leapt down from the rope to land at his side. She didn’t look especially worried, or speak like there was any matter of particular urgency at hand.

“Ford, you’re giving me an… odd look. Is your touted night vision malfunctioning?”

“No, I’m… just thinking.” He’d witnessed something, he knew that, but the memory felt the same way an object might look if viewed through unfocused eyes in the dead of night — blurry and undefined, only straining his brain more and more the harder he tried to focus on making it out.

Oh well, then. No need to hurt myself — it’s just a game. And speaking of which…

“Stan?” he called out, and the roof of the cave grew holographic and transparent, revealing Stan’s face as he watched the party attentively.

“Yeah, Sixer?”

“I have to admit, I had my doubts about you as Dungeon Master, but… I was wrong. This is such a well-crafted, captivating story you’ve created here — you know that, right? I’m really, genuinely enjoying it — keep it up, and I won’t ever want to leave!”

“Yeah.” Stan smiled, but broke eye contact with Ford — was he surprised? embarrassed? guilty? “Yeah, that’s just what I’m shootin’ for. Thanks, Ford.”

***

“Can you hear us, Grunkle Ford?” Mabel called out. “Where are you?”

No one replied, but the dark clouds in the hallways crept a few inches closer and the piano notes grew slightly fainter.

“Do you think he’s behind the machine?” Soos asked. He took a few steps away from the nearest hallway and towards the kids, nervously scanning the room for any sort of surprise attack.

“I don’t know, but I have a feeling we might not get another chance to check,” Dipper replied. Dark droplets rained down from a crack in the roof, narrowly missing him and splattering across the vending machine’s glass door.

“You’re right, we should hurry — wait, what?” Mabel gasped as she rushed over to the machine. “Dipper, the buttons are different — it’s some kind of weird code! How are we gonna get in?”

“Let me see. There’s got to be a way… wait, hold on. I… I’ve seen this code before.”

“That’s great! I should’ve known you’d know how to… Dipper? Is something wrong?”

Dipper’s stomach was churning with nausea and he hated it, because he knew it wasn’t a real sensation, a physical sensation, but couldn’t still couldn’t will the feeling to stop. “No, it’s just… this cipher was in the Journal, but I wasn’t able to crack this one until after Weirdmageddon, when all the pages got restored. I don’t think even Ford knows I solved it.”

“So what’s it doing in Stan’s mind?” Soos asked. “Did he crack it, or —”

“Bill was the one who wrote in this code,” Dipper added more quietly. “He used it while he was possessing Ford.”

“Oh… right.”

Dipper took another, more careful look at the keypad, where four buttons were already glowing — corresponding to the letters S, T, A, and N.

Now, if we press B, I, and then L twice…

His hand had barely left the keypad when the machine shuddered, swinging open with a groan to reveal a sight that was both unnervingly alien and chillingly familiar.

Descending beneath them was a staircase, mirroring the design of the stairs beneath the Shack — only these were carved from a shimmering light wood, like the bark of a birch tree. Elliptical knots and whorls covered the walls, slowly swirling and moving and growing as they turned to stare up the steps at Dipper and the others, flickering yellow so faintly you could almost convince yourself you’d imagined it, if only you didn’t know better.

“Oh, fuck this,” Dipper whispered, and neither Mabel nor Soos — the two most profanity-averse people he knew — gave any sign of disagreement.

He did, however, hear a sickening crunch behind him, and turned to see the floorboards on the other end of the room collapsing, dragged down into a slowly widening sinkhole in which dark currents frothed and churned. One at a time, grey planks were ripped away from their neighbors and dragged below as the rupture grew, its edges creeping steadily closer —

“I don’t like the look of that place either, dudes,” Soos told them, “but we might not have a choice…”

“You’re right,” Mabel agreed. “Let’s go.”

She grabbed Dipper and Soos’s hands, and before any of them could lose their will, they barreled down the stairs together.

***

The cavern was sloped downwards with countless twists and turns, and Ford got the impression that the tunnel was slowly snaking its way through just about all the interior volume Mt. Somnifell had to offer. Lurking in the shadows, monsters sprang out to ambush them at surprisingly regular intervals — humanoids with bat-like wings, wolves lacking eyes but with long-reaching claws that more than made up for their blindness, slimes that could precipitate stalactites out of their bodies and hurl them at whoever looked most defenseless — but the party dispatched them all with relative ease, burning through healing potions at only about half the rate Ford had expected, given the dungeon’s reputation.

But the cavern also had some less pleasant surprises in store, as was quickly proven when Ford spotted the first body.

“They’re still breathing,” Jheselbraum reported after he pointed out the dwarf’s unmoving form. “It doesn’t even look like they’ve been knocked unconscious — they’ve simply fallen asleep. And they’re smiling like they’re having a pleasant dream, at that.”

“Huh,” Ford murmured. “Can you tell if the cause is magical, or some kind of ingested or inhaled substance?”

“This might end up provin’ itself to be a stupid question,” Fiddleford chimed in, “but can you, ya know… wake them up?”

Jheselbraum shook the dwarf gently, but they remained limp. “I’m trying to, but it doesn’t seem to be working. But this is a magically induced sleep, Ford, I can tell you that much for certain. We should stay alert — there could be any number of magical traps lying ahead, and we don’t want to get stuck in a slumber like this ourselves.”

“That’s some high-quality armor they’re wearing,” Ford commented. “They must be a serious treasure hunter.”

“We’re not lootin’ an unconscious dwarf, Stanford!”

“I never said we were! I was just wondering if it would be feasible to carry them with us, or if they would be too heavy!”

“Normally, I would hate to leave behind a person defenseless like this, but the monsters seem to be leaving them alone for now,” Jheselbraum cut in. “If we carry them with us, and into more of those ambushes, they might actually be less safe.”

Ford and Fiddleford nodded their agreement, and the trio set off down the tunnel once again. They’d scarcely been walking for five minutes when Ford held up a hand, signaling for the others to stop.

“Shh. Do you hear that?”

Fiddleford cupped a hand around his ear. “Water dripping, and… it sounds like breathing?” he whispered.

Ford nodded. “Heavy breathing, just up ahead — maybe even more than one person.” Readying his wand, he took a few cautious steps forward —

It was a heap of sleeping bodies this time, almost comically mismatched in size but leaning up against each other as they snored. The largest figure wrapped its arms around two smaller ones, one of which had their arm around a fourth figure who was smaller still. They were an orc, a human, an elf, and a halfling, Ford realized — almost certainly a team who’d ventured into the dungeon together.

Jheselbraum closed her eyes for a moment, teeth gritted in concentration, and then opened them again with a gasp. “It’s a very powerful spell affecting them. I tried to dispel it, but the magic… it fought back in a way I’ve never felt before. Almost as if…”

Her voice dropped to a low, uncertain whisper. “...as if the victims didn’t want their curse dispelled?”

“Odd,” Fidds remarked, and gingerly poked the orc’s arm. Their eyes twitched ever so slightly, but stayed closed.

Ford carefully stepped over the human adventurer’s legs, and conjured four small orbs of light, each tinted a slightly different color. They floated down the darkest hallway yet, illuminating a set of straight, carved stone stairs that didn’t at all match the natural, winding paths of the rest of the cavern.

“I’ve found something over here,” he announced. “Not sure if it’s the final stretch before the treasure we’ve been looking for, or simply the start of a more daunting and deadly area, but it definitely seems to suggest the influence of something sentient. This cavern, whatever it is, is more than just a naturally occurring phenomenon.”

The stairs weren’t especially steep, but walking down them was as exhilarating as sprinting down a hill, like there was nothing in the world that could stop your legs from moving once you began to descend. The smooth, flat walls were damp with condensation, but the droplets of water reflected even less of Ford’s light than the stone did — he only noticed they were there in the first place after he ran his fingers along the wall for a moment, then pulled away to find them cold and wet.

But the condensation seemed to stay off the steps themselves, and when Ford glimpsed a light at the end of the staircase — bright orange, and unlike any of the ones he’d created himself — he broke into a run, startling Jheselbraum and Fiddleford for a moment before they too saw what he’d seen, and rushed to catch up with him. They careened to a stop in front of an ornately carved wooden door, candles on each side of it lighting the hall, and Ford pushed it open to reveal —

An expansive, well-lit library, bookshelves stretching up from a plush-carpeted floor all the way up to the high and majestic painted ceiling, each and every available ledge crammed full of ancient-looking but well-preserved scrolls and tomes. Ford walked in slowly, not out of a lack of interest but out of an indecisiveness regarding where to investigate first — so many of the nearby books looked so enticing, but he was also drawn to the luxurious mahogany desks that seemed to come pre-equipped with inkwells and long, fluffy quill pens, and it was equally hard to tear his eyes off the statues of ancient wizard scholars, lit from behind by elegant, resplendent chandeliers…

As he marveled, Jheselbraum picked a book from the shelf seemingly at random, flipping through it at first but then skimming the pages with a bit more care, eventually sitting down with it and turning back to the beginning to pour over every word.

“This is the work of scholars that have long since been relegated to legend!” she reported. “Knowledge that for centuries, people have accepted as being lost forever! This is the discovery of a lifetime!”

Fiddleford chose another tome and opened it up on one of the desks, pulling a blank scroll out of a drawer and placing them side-by-side in preparation for taking notes. “That is, if you could even catalog all this in a lifetime! I can’t even see the end to some of these shelves!”

It was all so perfect that Ford couldn’t help but laugh — a deep, genuine laugh that the library’s acoustics amplified, bringing smiles to the faces of his companions. Skimming the titles and authors featured on the nearest shelf, he mused: “I wonder if we could find an explanation for why those explorers were asleep. This place surely would have —”

His gaze came to rest on a moderately thick book bound in black-dyed leather, and held closed by a clasp seemingly carved from bone: A History of Earliest Necromancy, Volume 2 — The Rise of Liches and Innovation of Archliches.

“Though really, I don’t think that’s the highest priority in the grand scheme of things.” He immediately curled up in a cozy chair with the volume and opened it to the first chapter, the world outside of the pages becoming effectively nonexistent as far as he cared.

Stan watched the whole scene play out from above, with only the faintest, most easily stifled hint of guilt hidden behind his smile as he saw his brother happily and peacefully settle down to read.

***

The staircase was longer than the one beneath the Shack, and each footstep felt heavier than the last. At some point the stairs began to alternate light and dark colors, as if the white color of the bark had been peeled off every other step, and a faint chime sounded beneath each footfall, harmonizing with the intensifying piano music. Neither the clouds nor the waves appeared to follow them down, as if the brightness of the stairs and the eyes were driving the darkness away.

The end came up on them quickly — Dipper had been expecting another door, some other puzzle, but it seemed that the vending machine had been Bill’s last line of defense. Hallways branched out all around them, winding and turning every which way and lined with doors just like the ones upstairs. Closest to the three of them was the hall labeled Memories, in the same cipher from the vending machine; it was also the hallway from which the music seemed to emanate, growing so clear that Dipper could almost make out a voice singing the accompanying lyrics.

“Do we follow the song?” he asked, and Mabel nodded.

“Yeah, I guess it’s been working so far.”

The patterns in the walls shifted, eyes staying fixed on the trio as they forged ahead.

***

Ford flew through the first book and found the other volumes soon after, all on different shelves yet well within his line of sight, like the library had read his mind and rearranged itself. Every once in a while, he heard a murmur or exclamation from Jheselbraum or Fiddleford, and though a part of him wondered what they were reading, it felt almost like a waste of effort to tear his eyes up from the page. The books were so detailed, so well-researched, that he could almost forget he was playing a game…

“Stanley, do you mind if we stay here just a bit longer?” he asked. “I know you probably have plans for the rest of the campaign, and I don’t want to ruin those by taking too long to move on…”

The roof of the library turned into a magnificent glass window, through which Stan looked back at Ford. “Well, are you having fun down there?”

“Oh, absolutely!”

Stan smiled. “Then you can stay there as long as you feel like! Hell, you can stay forever if you want.”

“That’s considerate of you, thanks! But I think forever is a bit too long, even for me…” Ford turned back to his book and flipped to a new page —

But found that he couldn’t quite pour all of his attention into the words anymore. As interesting as phylacteries and demiliches were, there was something that just didn’t sit right with him — something about Stan’s smile. It had seemed… off. Exaggerated.

A tiny voice in the back of his head (a familiar voice, he realized, somehow reminiscent of both Jheselbraum and Mabel) whispered five simple words to him — five words that every D&D&MD player knew well, but Ford hadn’t yet heard on this adventure:

Make a wisdom saving throw.

Without getting out of his chair, he glanced around the library, and for the first time really thought about how every title he spotted sounded like something he’d happily dedicate hours of his life to reading. He thought about how hard it was to tear his gaze away from those books once you started, how easily they captivated his curiosity — and how effortlessly Stan had woven this entire story, how instantly Ford had found himself enthralled, how frequently he would forget that he was actually in Dimension 52…

And how did we get to Dimension 52, again? Stan helped somehow — right? Before Jhes, there was…

There was…

Does it really matter if this is real, Ford?

Ten minutes. That’s all.

A die fell from his hand and struck not the plush maroon carpet of the library, but rather the color-drained wooden floor of the Mystery Shack, bouncing half a dozen times before it came to a rest wedged between two floorboards. On the uppermost face, glowing blue, was the number 38.

Stan stood alone on the other side of the room, dark fog spilling from the arms of his suit where hands should emerge instead. The clouds sunk low to the ground, creeping forwards like a smoky, immaterial tide, but they stopped at the edge of the circular blue glow that the die cast onto the floor, seeping all around the circumference of the light but unable to move further inwards.

“Why, Ford,” Stan choked out, “did you have to ruin it?”

“I don’t know if the being I’m facing is my real brother,” Ford began softly, and Stan flinched, raising a cloudy tendril to cover his face. “But Stanley, regardless of where you really are — I want to help you. I want to find Bill and stop him, once and for all this time; I want you to be safe —”

“I just want you to be happy!” Stan yelled, and tight cuffs snapped shut around Ford’s wrists. Wisps of fog snaked upwards from his hands, and chains materialized out of them, lifting him off the ground as they grew towards the ceiling —

“But i-if you go looking for Bill…”

In the mind, where anything conceivable is just a few seconds of concentration away from manifesting into existence, a vivid imagination can be your best friend or your worst enemy — and Ford couldn’t help but remember, imagine, almost feel the faint sensation of tingling electric shocks at his wrists, of static charges creeping up his arms as his hair stood on end and his muscles tensed involuntarily, bracing himself for the current to intensify…

“If you keep looking, then you won’t be happy,” Stan went on, oblivious to Ford’s panic as he stared down towards the floor with practically glazed-over eyes. “None of us will.”

***

Old, flickering incandescent lightbulbs cast a blue-tinted pallor over everything in the hall, illuminating particles of dust that drifted through the air as if no one had come this way in a very, very long time. Separate hallways branched off every few feet, some behind doors and others not — and many with no visible end in sight.

Dipper and Mabel sneezed with almost perfect synchronicity as they passed by a dimly lit offshoot, ending at a chained-up door with the image of a scalene triangle etched into it. The symbols on the doors grew more familiar the further they explored — glasses, a llama, a bag of ice. The same code labeled every door with a transcription of the symbol, and Dipper flinched, trying to repress a morbid curiosity as they passed Pine Tree, and Question Mark, and Shooting Star…

Then finally, they stumbled upon Sixer.

“Sounds like this is where the music is coming from,” Soos murmured. No one stepped forwards to open the door.

“What do you think we’ll find there?” Mabel asked.

“Hopefully Bill,” Dipper replied. The word hopefully felt tainted and wrong in his mouth.

Mabel closed her eyes for a moment, brow furrowing in concentration. When she opened them again, a water gun-like apparatus had appeared in her hands, just transparent enough for Dipper to tell that it was filled not with liquid, but rather with sparkling bright glitter.

“Okay,” she said. “I’m ready now.”

Soos curled his fingers around an invisible hilt, and a pixelated sword popped into existence, surrounded by equally retro-looking orange flames. “Me too.”

Dipper curled his fingers around the handle, and cringed as a jolt of electricity stung his palm — not strong enough to really hurt, but plenty strong enough to startle him and send his already pounding heart racing even faster. The door swung open with a creak as he recoiled, revealing another hallway lined with more doorways, this time unmarked. The lightbulbs overhead hummed and crackled quietly, blue-white sparks leaping off the sizzling filaments and striking the glass to create a noise that sounded almost intelligible —

(tzxmeaiz jfjlpc ZI afb-wavdiik xlmevmuxvj)

(aesldlk'x ysdb ximaqiu em)

(f'q jg alviq aqeexwoh)

(z'e al wfjzv)

“There’s too much background noise. I can’t tell where the music’s coming from anymore, can you?” Dipper asked.

Mabel rubbed her ears. “It’s like it’s coming from nowhere, but also everywhere. I guess we should just… check the doors one by one?”

“I guess.” Dipper’s hand hovered just above a doorknob as he took a deep breath, Soos and Mabel readying their weapons behind him. There was a sickly-sweet smell permeating the air, like sulfur mixed with the scent of a dusty, seldom-used home heater.

(The smell of burning hair, he would realize a few seconds too late.)

“Okay, Bill. Let’s see what you remember about Ford —”

His fingers had hardly brushed the knob when the door exploded. Dust filled his lungs and splinters impaled themselves in his hands, stinging like a million tiny lightning bolts —

But still stinging less than the memory that now played out before him, stripped away of any enciphering, or euphemism, and at last exposed for all to see.

Ford’s limp body was suspended from a dark red brick ceiling, chains fastened around his neck and wrists. He seemed to fade away into the folds of his scorched and tattered trench coat, and his unblinking eyes stayed worryingly blank as wisps of smoke drifted up from his smoldering, ashen hair.

“Oh, WHOOPSIE-DAISY! This was all my bad this time, it really was — I just keep forgetting how sensitive your puny little organs are!”

Bill jabbed a single finger into Ford’s stomach, and Ford swung back and forth like a pendulum, remaining completely limp. “I wonder what circuit blew this time? Bet it was your sentimental, oversized old man heart again, wasn’t it? I’m tellin’ ya, you’d be better off without it — maybe now you’ll consider throwing your lot in with world domination!”

He cackled, loudly and bitterly. “What are you saying, Cipher? Save the spiel for when he’s awake again to hear you, dumbass!”

He snapped his fingers, and a pale yellow glow began to manifest around Ford’s body, starting at the hands and slowly making its way towards his chest. His voice dropped a few full octaves as he went on:

“Now, let’s get you fixed up for ANOTHER ROUND —”

“NO!”

Dipper didn’t have any memory of stepping through the doorway, but he was well-inside the Fearamid now, racing towards Bill as fast as his legs could carry him and fists clenched so tightly that his fingernails dug into his palms. “Don’t you dare hurt him anymore!”

What?

Bill’s voice came out different — still an echoing, high-pitched whine like usual, but smaller somehow. It held less brash self-assurance, less of that absurd, larger-than-life personality that the world had come to know and fear — and was more full of uncertainty, of panic.

Less horrifying, and more horrified.

P-P-Pine Tree? No, no, NO —

Why are you — what am I —

What am I DOING?

His eye darted all around the room as his body turned to a screen of static, familiar images flashing inside — a pine tree, a six-fingered hand. A sock puppet, a glowing blue chain.

He grabbed Dipper’s hand, but no cold flames ignited this time. His grip was tight and trembling as his wide, desperate eye met Dipper’s —

Pine Tree, why are we here? What IS this? What’s HAPPENING?

I don’t want to be here, Pine Tree, please —

“Let go of my brother!” A blast of a thousand tiny, glittering yellow and pink stars struck Bill in the eye, knocking him backwards as he howled in pain. “Yeah, that’s what you get for what you did to Grunkle Ford!”

Mabel ran towards where Ford hung, smoking less but still limp. “Are you okay?! We’ll get you out of there, just hold on —”

It’s… it’s not the real Ford, is it?

Bill sat up, blinking slowly as if coming to his senses. His voice still echoed, but it was lower-pitched now, and had an unmistakably familiar hoarseness to it as he turned towards Mabel —

We’re in the past, pumpkin. You can’t undo it —

and

neither

can

I

***

“Stan,” Ford whispered. don’t think of electricity, don’t think of electricity, don’t think of electricity —

“I. Need you. To let me go.” He tried to enunciate carefully but overcompensated, the words coming out stiff and robotic. “Please,” he added.

Stan crossed his arms, pulling them tight around his chest as he shook his head, motions jerking and marionette-like. “No, I — I can’t.”

“Calm down,” Ford told him, even though his voice sounded anything but calm. He could smell the all-too-familiar scent of burning hair and clothes now — was his hair already beginning to smolder, or — no. Ignore your senses if you have to, they’re lying right now. Just talk.

“Stan, look into — look into my eyes. I’m your brother, Stan, you can trust me —”

“But you can’t trust me,” Stan interrupted, still staring straight down. “All this time, I was — you were wrong about me. I’m a horrible brother, and I just tricked you into thinking I wasn’t.”

Something reached its breaking point in Ford’s mind, and tears began to fall from his eyes — an ionic solution, exactly what makes your body such a good conductor of —

“Fuck it, Stan, put me back in your tabletop game if you want, but please, you’ve got to let me out of here or my own mind is going to —”

Stan’s neck flew backwards with a sickening crack, craning towards the ceiling as his eyes flew open, but he still wasn’t looking at Ford — no, he was staring far past him, spheres of blue plasma sizzling where dark brown irises should have been.

WHAT?

Why are you DOWN THERE?

Dipper, NO!

The fire in his eyes moved in cascades, in waves, like static across a television screen.

What am I DOING?

NO, NO NO

Kids, I — oh, pumpkin, it’s not —

I can’t —

I can’t undo it

I CAN’T UNDO IT

He blinked and his eyes were brown again, human again, staring into Ford’s own —

“Stanford, w-what am I DOING?!”

Ford’s chains vanished in a puff of fog, and he tumbled to the ground, landing more softly than the wooden planks beneath him should have allowed for. Stan staggered away from him, raising his hands to cover his mouth as black tears spilled down the left side of his face, leaving dark trails on his cheek and staining his fingers —

While from the corner of his right eye, shimmering crystal blue droplets welled up and dripped down — liquid fire, blazing so bright that it lit the whole room.

“Stanley —!”

In a quick one-two punch, the roof of the Shack buckled and then exploded, as a torrent of water crashed down upon Stan and submerged him instantly. A violent cyclone surrounded him, biting winds slicing through Ford’s coat and stinging his arms as they grew stronger, more desperate —

But Ford could still make out something inside the waterspout, a glow that jumped in jagged paths like lightning one moment, then floated and flickered like tongues of flame the next — a bright blue light, refusing to be drowned out. Refusing to be forgotten.

***

A couple of end notes this time:

-If I did my job as a writer well, this should hopefully be apparent, but because this detail is very important to me and my interpretation of the characters in this context, I just want to clarify: All the electric shocks that (non-memory) Ford felt were due to his own mind/imagination working against him, not due to Stan. Stan, as he now exists, would absolutely never hurt Ford like that — but he was desperate to keep Ford from searching for Bill, and because of that desperation (plus possibly a bit of influence from the Bill memories the kids were rooting around in) he made an unfortunate choice in terms of how to restrain Ford, prompting Ford to flash back to Bill’s torture. Once Stan realizes what’s happening, he’s horrified and immediately wracked with guilt, which we’ll see a bit more of in the next chapter. (finally going back to Stan POV! It’s been so long!)

-If you want a hint for the long code encountered in Bill’s part of the mindscape, hit me up and I’ll be happy to give one!

-For the record, most of my Dungeons and Dragons knowledge comes from listening to podcasts rather than actual playing experience, so if anything doesn’t make sense, let’s just chalk it up to being a difference between D&D and D&D&MD.

-I also threw in a reference to Flat Dreams by Pengychan, which is a Bill-backstory fic that I absolutely love! Of course, you can understand SSD without reading Flat Dreams, but you should totally read Flat Dreams anyway because it’s just that good.

-Last but not least, look out for the next chapter — also known as my favorite chapter — within the next couple of weeks ;) As usual, comments/predictions/etc are welcomed!

[paradisobound]

I Want It, I Got It: Chapter 3

Summary: Phil Lester was a worker for the BBC in London. Working in the advertising department, he was content being alongside his friend and fellow coworker PJ during every shift. However, the BBC is temporarily being used as a film set for a new movie staring Hollywood ‘It’ star, Daniel Howell. Being stuck as an extra on the set, Phil finds it’s hard to ignore the famous star. And maybe, just maybe, Dan finds it hard to ignore Phil as well.

Word Count:  1.6k (this chapter)

Warnings: Occasional swearing

Rating: Mature (for right now)

Updates will be every Wednesday at 4pm est and Sunday at 1pm EST

**MASTERLIST | READ ON AO3**

Phil didn’t realize how exhausted he actually would be. 

When he said his goodbyes to PJ and headed for the tube station, he made a quick stop to a Nando’s and picked up some lunch before he caught the tube and headed home.

As soon as he was through the door, he saw Martyn sitting on his couch with Spike sleeping on his lap. He was watching some Netflix nature documentary on Phil’s TV and eating some sort of a half-made sandwich that Phil figured he scrounged together after going through his fridge. 

“How was Spike?” Phil asked, distracting Martyn away from the documentary. 

Martyn picked up the remote and paused the documentary. “Mostly just slept.” 

At the sound of his name, Spike had already perked up and was ready to jump down from Martyn’s lap and run over to Phil. He jumped down on his tiny paws and patted his way over and Phil bent down, petting his gently on his back. 

“How was the set, famous actor?” 

“Shut it, Martyn. I was only there because the BBC required me to be.” Phil said as he sat down beside Martyn on the couch and began to unpack his Nando’s bag. He fished out his chicken wrap began to undo the packaging as Spike sat at his feet and hoped to be fed as well. 

“Do you get to see the famous Daniel Howell?” Martyn asks, reaching into his bag and stealing a chip. 

“Yeah, actually. We shared a quick moment.” Phil answered as he took a bite of his wrap and then broke off a piece of chicken and gave it to Spike. 

“What happened?” Martyn asked, stealing another chip. 

“We met eye to eye and then he smiled at me.” 

“Oh damn. When’s the wedding?” 

“You’re an ass.” Phil swatted at Martyn’s arm. Martyn just laughed. “I know it doesn’t really mean anything but the way he stared at me was just...something else. And that smile he flashed at me was like no other smile I’ve seen.” 

“Phil,” Martyn punctuated. “You’re acting like a love sick teenager. He’s a celebrity. He probably flashes that smile at everyone.” 

“But...” 

“You’re really about to argue this?” Martyn laughed. “Lad has you ready to go to bed and you’ve never even spoke.” 

Phil rolled his eyes and finished his wrap, throwing the container into the bag. He pulled out his chips and groaned when he saw Martyn had ate almost all of them. 

“I don’t know, Martyn. It was different.” 

And Phil still stood by that even into the afternoon as he found himself suddenly wanting to look Daniel up on social media. He started with Twitter first and he went through and saw all of his tweets―or rather lack there of. Daniel didn’t tweet all that much. But when he did it was often kind of comical. He liked talking about memes which was different than what he was expecting. 

From his Twitter, he ended up going on Instagram. Phil had to admit that Daniel’s Instagram photos were near flawless. It was no wondering he had nearly 20 million followers on there and received about 5 million likes a photo. It was kind of amazing compared to Phil’s measly two thousand followers that he’s gotten over the years. 

He went through the photos and he reads through some of the comments on them. Most people talk about how much they love him and some even get replies back from him if they’re lucky. 

He scrolls back up Daniel’s profile to the picture of him and the dog and he looks it over, smiling. There was something about Daniel and Phil thought he was finally understanding the hype behind Daniel. The reason why People Magazine called him one of the sexiest men alive. Because Daniel was attractive. He was actually stunning. 

And just like that, with a defeated sigh, Phil realizes he’s developing a stupid crush on him and there is nothing he can do. He’ll probably never see Daniel again. 

***

Turns out never seeing Daniel again was completely false. He got an email from the BBC two days later asking if he could go to the BBC and help out. Phil didn’t know what they meant by help out but he still reported to the BBC anyway on the day that they asked. 

Arriving at near seven in the morning with a Gregg’s coffee in hand, Phil arrived to the BBC once more with a crowd of people waiting outside. He could hear scenes being shot in the distance somewhere in the building and he really did not know what he was supposed to be doing. 

The same woman from before met up with him, this time introducing herself as Mabel. “So we loved you as a background extra in the scene before so we decide to bring you back for another scene. That is of course if we still have your full consent for it.” 

Phil nodded slowly. “What am I going to be doing?” 

“So it’ll be a scene with Daniel. There will be no words or anything. You’ll be standing in the coffee room with a group of other background actors, Daniel will come in, stand beside you, grab a coffee, and then that’s it.” 

Phil furrowed his brows. “Is that all?” He asked. “Why me specifically for this scene?” 

Mabel smirks at him. “Daniel requested you.” 

Phil sputtered, nearly dropping his coffee cup on the ground. “He doesn’t know me?” 

“Well, he asked for the ‘black haired male from the scene before’ and we kind of figured out he meant you.” She said. 

Phil felt flustered. There was so much he could unpack in that moment but instead, he was being rushed off to the set of the coffee scene. Mabel took his coffee off the side and then instructed him on how the scene was going to go. Phil felt somewhat reassured to know that Mabel wasn’t positive if the scene would be in the final cut but he still was intrigued being a background extra. 

Who knew that the BBC telling him he had to report here worked in his benefit? 

He got into place with all of the other actors and they all got ready for whatever was going to happen. 

Then Daniel walked in and it was like a different dimension again. His smile that he flashed to those he walked by and that perfectly styled hair. Once again, Phil got it. He got why so many people are infatuated with Dan because he’s infatuated too. He’s never been like this with someone before. It’s weird. It’s strange. He doesn’t know how to react...for fucks sake Daniel asked for him to come back just for this scene. Isn’t that a bit unusual? 

“Hey mate.” 

And now Daniel was talking to him? He felt his palms sweat and his heart beat through his chest. 

“Hey.” 

He’s trying so hard to keep his cool but he’s losing it fast. He turns and looks at Dan, all dressed up in that business attire they had him dressed in. Phil’s not even entirely sure what this movie is about but he could care less if it meant he was now being stood in the same scene. 

“I feel like this is probably awkward,” Dan says, bringing his lips into a tight line. “But they were asking me who I wanted in this scene and I don’t know, I just thought you did really well in the scene from a few days ago. You were like natural?” 

Phil blushed, his skin flushing red. “Oh thank you. I did the multimedia and film masters program at the University of York.” 

Dan cocked an eyebrow and nodded. “Could have fooled me.” He said. “Never would have thought you had experience in this field.” 

Phil felt his stomach drop a little bit because he wasn’t entirely sure what Dan meant by that. But this was Dan. This was the biggest celebrity in Hollywood right now. He needs to remember this. 

The director started and he did exactly what Mabel had explained to him. Within just a few moments, the director was yelling cut again and then it was over. The scene was done. The director said that they got their shot and then they were all leaving the set. 

He’s leaving the BBC when he hears someone come up behind him. He half thinks that maybe he left something at the set but he’s quickly mistaken. The person behind him is wearing a baggy black sweatshirt and a pair of skinny jeans. 

Phil can’t figure out who this person is until his eyes focus on the face covered by the hood and he realizes that this is Daniel Howell standing there, coming after him. Daniel Howell...wants to catch up with him? 

“Hey!” Daniel called. “Can I get your name? You seem like a super nice person and not like a totally crazed fan girl.” 

“Oh! Yeah.” Phil stumbles awkwardly. “It’s Phil Lester.” 

“Do you have a Twitter or an Instagram?” Dan asks, pulling out his phone from his pocket. 

“You can find me under the url amazingphil.” 

“Amazingphil?” Dan snickers. “That’s kind of amazing actually. Where did you come up with that?” 

“It was a university thing.” Phil said, blushing. “It just kind of stuck.” 

“I wish I had a cool nickname like that.” Dan muttered to himself. “But sadly, I...”

“Dan! You’re wanted on set in twenty minutes and Kirsten is requesting you in hair and make up.” 

Dan shoots Phil an apologetic glance and then flashes a smile to him again. “I’ll see you around!” 

And then he’s gone. He’s walking back towards the people who called for him. 

And really, Phil is left standing there, completely awestruck. He’s not even sure that what just happened was even real. Was any of this real? He couldn’t tell. 

He pinched his thigh. He definitely felt it. So no, he wasn’t dreaming. 

He actually just had a semi-successful conversation with the Daniel Howell. 

He might actually faint. 

Last Chapter | Next Chapter 

[sirkkasnow]

12 Finer Points Of Damage Control

Ao3 link

07/20/13-07/25/13 Saturday - Thursday

Stan didn’t say anything when he got home, because the slumber party crew had arrived and there were people underfoot everywhere. Clary coordinated dishwashing duties in the kitchen, passing silverware off to Candy and lifting plates out of Grenda’s towel as soon as they were dry. “Did you get dinner?” she asked as he stuck his head warily through the door. “We have leftovers.”

“Uh - I’ll wait until you guys’re done, thanks.” Mabel teetered atop a stepstool to put away glasses. She managed a shameless wink over Clary’s head. Pacifica sat at the kitchen table looking bored and vaguely hostile, fingertips busy flicking across her phone’s screen. “If you got a minute later, Clary, could we have a word?”

“You bet, Stan, I’ll come looking for you.”

There was really no time at all to talk. Clary chased after the four girls like a harried mother goose, hopping over Waddles when necessary. Stan could not believe the amount of chatter they generated - commentary on the guest list, the likely menu, Ford’s relative hotness - he winced at that one.

They spent a good hour in the living room huddled around Mabel’s phone, watching videos and arguing over the party soundtrack. Clary was pushing for classic tunes, forties and fifties stuff. “Lowest common denominator. Everyone can dance to that.”

“My grunkle’s got pretty light feet,” Mabel shot back. “Seventies or bust! Let’s give the old man a chance to strut his stuff!”

“Every time Stan struts his stuff, something gets broken.” Pacifica was leaning in, still looking a little bored but at least engaged. “Which might be fun to watch.”

Stan hovered within earshot for a little while, hoping Clary would pull herself free, but he gave up after one too many intense debates over boy bands. He’d have to wait them out. The cash was burning a hole in his pocket anyway. He stomped off to the old office, flicked on a lamp, cleared a space on the desk and buckled down to work.

He couldn’t really enjoy the whole process with the sense of impending doom winding tight in his chest. The old answering machine’s red light blinked angrily from across the room; he threw stuff at it - Gold Chains For Old Men from last April, a Lil’ Gideon promo t-shirt, a ratty coonskin cap he’d never repurposed - until something stuck and covered it up.

By the time he had the guest list and the cash bundled up and packed away in the safe it was well past midnight. Stan crept through the darkened house, reflexively avoiding all the creakiest spots in the floor. Dipper, he knew, was crashing on the study couch downstairs.

Indistinct girlish voices and the steady thump thump thump of muffled bass were still trickling under the kids’ door. The narrow line of light painted onto the floorboards was dim, at least, so things must be winding down by now. Stan paused and raised his hand to knock, then thought better of it and slunk off towards his own room.

He was on the verge of tucking himself in when he heard the soft creak of hinges down the hall. Cracking his door open a sliver revealed a bare glimpse of Clary tiptoeing out and downstairs in pajamas and kerchief. Eventually she returned with the plastic pitcher and a few old tumblers.

Stan just watched. She glanced over as she made to slip back in, spotting his silhouette against the faint light of his room, and with a tiny conspiratorial smile held a finger to her lips.

He closed the door, flopped flat on his back in bed, and stared at the ceiling that was too far away to actually see until he tumbled unwilling into restless sleep.

Come morning the yammering traffic of teenage girls throwing together a full-on Mabel-style breakfast was too much to bear. There wasn’t a chance in hell of extricating Clary from the chaos, so he headed straight for the museum.

Soos had rigged construction curtains across the space they’d blocked out. The ‘Coming Attraction!’ sign sported a cheerful, toothy, horned-and-winged weasel with wide cartoon eyes, probably Melody’s work.

Stan had argued for scaling the whole production down a little, but Soos had been adamant in his laid-back way. By hook or by crook it was going to be a walkthrough with hidden lighting, surround sound and special effects, whatever that meant.

He spent most of his time slathering black paint over the framework that had already gone in. The blackout shell that would eventually enclose it all would at least cover up any number of construction sins. Positioning marks for lights, showpieces and electronics got chalked in according to the elaborate plans he’d been handed.

Morning tours swung past his sheltered corner and Stan listened in pleased bemusement. There was already a snappy line of patter for the new exhibit. Soos had a gift for this - the style had changed but the appreciative giggling and gasps from his audience were familiar.

After all, Stan had fallen into the role. Soos had aspired to it.

It was easy to lose himself in the work for a couple of hours, but eventually his stomach’s vague grumble and the angle of sunlight through the windows warned him that he had other things to worry about. Soos stuck his head in between curtains and tapped at the framework. “Time for lunch, Mr. Pines! The girls have all gone home and I think Miss Clary’s got sandwiches made up.”

“Yeah, yeah, comin’.” Stan rubbed at a few flecks of black paint on his fingers and emerged squinting into the main room. “Sounds like a nice busy mornin’. Everythin’ all right with plans for the dance thing?”

Soos tugged a notepad out of his jacket. “Oh, yeah, we’re selling a ton of tickets! I guess they all saw your posters. Lots of messages came in last night. Took a while to get through them all before we opened up. And we had a bunch of people asking about dinner tickets?” He flipped a couple of pages while Stan cringed internally. “Yup, about fifteen of those. Couple more calls today, too, and a few people asking at the gift shop.”

“Uh. Yeah. About those. Didja get phone numbers an’ names?”

“Oh, sure. Looked like you settled on eighty-five bucks apiece for those, so that’s what we charged.”

“What you - Soos, did you actually sell them tickets?!”

Soos blinked. “Well, sure! I saw the envelope in the safe and that ticket book, so I figured you and Miss Clary worked something out. It’ll be one big party!”

“Sweet Moses.” Stan squeezed his eyes shut, slapped a hand to his brow, and started to pace. Surely there was still a way to contain the damage. “Okay. Okay, you got contact info, all we gotta do is call people - “

He swung around to look out across the exhibit space, spinning possibilities in his mind - reschedule, shift the venue, anything but issuing refunds. His focus flicked blankly from point to point, then settled on the woman standing with arms folded right behind the Sascrotch.

Ah, fuck.

“Stan,” Clary said gently. “May I have a moment of your time, please.” It wasn’t a question.

Stan held out a hand. Soos laid the notebook in his palm and backed away until he was out of her line of sight.

Clary turned and walked with measured strides through the museum and then the house until she’d arrived at the porch. Stan followed with feet dragging as though they were already encased in concrete.

She set hands to her hips and looked out into the distance - he wasn’t sure if she even saw the trees. As the silence drew out he thumbed through Soos’ notebook and mentally counted up tickets, arriving at a number large enough to make his stomach flip in delight and dread.

“The girls and I came up with a guest list of eighteen people,” Clary said at length. “Am I to understand that we are expecting more, now.”

Stan cleared his throat and launched in. “So, funny thing, I stopped off for a coffee down at Greasy’s an’ Susan’s the one who brought it up, since you’ve been lookin’ to get this whole thing organized for the last couple days, said you asked about cherry pie, good choice by the way - “

Not a word. Her fingers were drumming out a restless rhythm against the khaki of her shorts.

“So yeah. Yeah, people were startin’ to get the wrong idea ‘bout dance party tickets so I thought maybe we’d, y’know, sell some dinner tickets since they’re so hot on it, we’ll make enough - more than enough! - t’offset all the expenses an’ then at least we know who’s comin’, we don’t get a buncha people bustin’ in uninvited - “

“How many?”

He had a good head of steam up and had to fumble around for a second. “Uh - what?”

“How many tickets?” She hadn’t raised her voice but there was an edge in it like the wind of a January blizzard and he nearly shivered.

“Looks like about fifty - “

“Fifty!” Clary barked it out and turned to glare at him full on. Her face was pale, a hard spot of angry pink high in each cheek. “Stan, that’s seventy people. I can’t cook for seventy people out of the house, there is no damn way and the minute money’s involved you need a certified commercial kitchen! How in the hell - “

Stan knew he’d gone red in the face and hell if a direct challenge wasn’t making his temper start to flare a little, too. “Well - well, fine, we have Greasy’s make it all! We shuttle it up an’ make sure we have plenty of paper plates, no problem!”

Clary scoffed. “There is no way you didn’t sell this as a home-cooked meal from your very own resident lawyer.”

Okay, so she wasn’t entirely wrong. “No one’s gonna care about the food. They just wanna meet you - “

“So you’re telling me I make a decent roadside attraction?”

The last syllable rose and broke. She clapped a palm over her mouth. Stan looked at her, his jaw gone slack, a sharp little sting lodged in his chest. Tears of fury or frustration had welled up at the corners of her eyes and one made a break for it as she pulled a shaking breath.

“I need a minute,” she said, rough-edged.

“Clary. C’mon.” He reached out, hoping to lay a hand on her shoulder. She twitched away, then slipped past him with fluid ease, making no contact. In three long strides she’d thrown a leg over her bicycle. One foot found a pedal and she took off at speed down the path that’d eventually get her to town. “Oh, come on!”

Both of the kids clattered out onto the porch, standing to either side of him.

“Grunkle Stan?” Mabel looked up to him in wide-eyed concern. “What’s going on? Is she okay?”

“She forgot her helmet.” Dipper folded his hands, thumbs twirling awkward loops. “Uh, so the dinner thing got - bigger?”

Stan set a hand to his chin for a long moment, breathing through his fingers to steady himself.

“Yep,” he said. “She’s headin’ out to work on logistics an’ supplies an’ so on. We’ve only got a couple days to pull it all together, yeah?” Stan scraped up a smile and lightly patted Mabel’s hair. “You know how this town is, things get outta hand pretty quick. We’re all gonna have to pitch in, got it?”

Mabel looked on the verge of tears for a moment, then her back straightened and her jaw set in determination. “I don’t know what the heck just happened but we are gonna fix it. Right, Dipper?”

“Right, Mabel! Come on, we’ll go track her down!”

“Kids. No.” He shook his head when they looked up at him in surprise. “She wants peace an’ quiet, she gets peace an’ quiet.” Mabel looked briefly mulish, Dipper troubled, but he put on the stern look and eventually they nodded.

She didn’t reappear that afternoon. Stan did his best to stay busy with piecing the exhibit together, focused more sharply than usual in service of not thinking about anything else. He was genuinely starting to worry along towards dinnertime when his phone chimed with an incoming one-line message, then more in rapidfire sequence.

Rented out Greasy’s kitchen. Add’l food lined up. Updated menu. Pls send guest list when complete. Still need: tables & chairs, linens, serveware. Suggest asking McGucket. Manor might have garden party supplies.

Hesitant, Stan tapped in: You okay?

The reply was near instant. I’m fine. Will see you at dinner.

He’d about finished off the wiring, packing away tools and electrical tape, when Mabel came dashing in out of breath and yanked aside the construction curtain. “She’s back! C’mon, c’mon, you’ve gotta clean up!”

Ford had been on dinner duty that evening, which meant it was heavy on vegetables and light on anything interesting. Dipper and Mabel were buzzing around Clary. She looked freshly scrubbed, maybe a little drawn, tossing together a salad at the counter. Her head came up as Stan entered; she set down the dressing, marched right over and offered her right hand. “I apologize.”

Stan accepted her clasp immediately and squeezed in what he hoped was reassurance. “Hey. Ah, glad you’re all right, real sorry about the inconvenience an’ all.” Grateful though he was to see her, the smile she wore was surface-slight, her eyes cool.

“I’ve run fundraisers before. It’ll all be under control in a day or two.” Clary’s fingers slipped from his and she pivoted to collect the salad bowl. “All right, you lot! War council time! As you know we’re running the biggest party of the summer here at the Shack and I am going to need help from all of you.”

Ford dished up brown rice and poached salmon. Clary laid out the menu, jotted in several additions and got quite serious with Mabel about desserts, settling on ‘Fireworks Krispy Treats: They’ll Light Up Your Mouth!’ in addition to the cherry pies and lemon bars she’d apparently negotiated with Susan.

“You,” Clary said, pointing her pen at Stan. “Logistics. The exhibit and the seating are yours to manage. Remember that at this rate we may have to set up an outdoor dance floor. You,” indicating Ford, “please keep working on my car. I’m going to need both of you early on the morning of this thing to knock out the chicken.”

Stan watched the whole process with trepidation - she was a monster of efficiency and it was a far cry from the laid-back approach she’d been taking for the last couple days. “Yes ma’am.”

“We’ve got less than a week to knock this out of the park.” Clary took up her fork and saluted the table at large. “Let’s make this legendary.” She tucked briskly into her dinner and finished well before everyone else, dropping off her plate at the sink and ducking out of the kitchen before Stan could catch her.

It went like that for the entire following day. Clary disappeared before anyone was awake, communicating only in an endless series of texts. Most of those hit a broadcast group including Stan, Soos, Ford and the kids, friendly if brisk updates on the state of the picnic.

A few of them came only to Stan, and those were ...terse.

Status on tables etc?

Updates to guest count?

Pls keep any receipts for supplies. Will collect them later.

An argument about who was going to pay for what would be coming down the pike soon, he was sure of that.

Got time in the morning? he tapped in.

Working to clean Greasy’s kitchen up to code. Will probably finish tomorrow. A pause, then: Wouldn’t want to poison half the town.

Clary didn’t even make it back for dinner that night. When he went looking for her the next morning she was already gone, and her phone went unanswered. Stan lasted until just before lunchtime before pure frustration drove him to start working his way through local contacts to track her down.

“Greasy's diner - we have food!” That was Susan for sure, sounding slightly manic.

“Heeey, Susan. listen, is Miz Merrick down there? She headed out early this mornin' and I was wonderin' where she landed.”

“Oh, gosh yes!” Susan giggled against the background racket of customers. “You should've seen her. She's been hauling stuff out of that old walk-in fridge that I didn't even know existed! We've got some pretty weird specials for lunch, let me tell ya. She’s helping with the rush while she's stocking up all this stuff for the big picnic - ooooh, it's all going to be delicious! I can't wait!”

Stan squinted. “Wait, what, you're comin'?”

“Oh, sure! She traded me a ticket and got me the ingredients for all those pies!” Her cheerful tone dropped a little into rusty affection. “I can't wait to take a spin around the dance floor with you.” He thought that over, then shuddered faintly to himself.

“So, ah, she free to come to the phone? Guess she's set hers on silent or somethin'.”

“Gimme a minute, sweetie, i'll go check.” The rattle of industrial-grade china and indistinct conversation went on as she left the receiver on the counter, calling out towards the back of the place.

Eventually she wandered back. “Sorry, Stan, she's in the middle of juggling like eight trays of biscuits. Says she'll see you back at the Shack tonight.”

Stan propped himself against the wall and managed not to sigh. “All right, Susan, thanks. Glad she's gettin' out ahead of it all.”

“You bet, sugar. See ya in a couple days!”

He'd been too engrossed to notice company in the hallway, and when he glanced up glumly it was right at Mabel perched on the bottom step with Waddles leaning into her side. Stan jerked upright but she was already shaking a finger at him.

"Don't you give me that look, Grunkle Stan. She's too ‘busy’ - “ Biiiiiig air quotes around that one. “- to talk to you, right?"

“Ah - um - “ He juggled a couple of possible deflections, then shoved the phone in his pocket and looked at her in naked desperation. “I swear this is not what I meant to happen!”

Mabel heaved a theatrical sigh. “All right. This is something I can fix. Clary and I have an appointment with Soos' Abuelita tomorrow morning.” She waggled her eyebrows. “A secret appointment. When we get back at around lunchtime you better be ready to shake your moneymaker, got it?"

“Shake my what now?”

“You two are gonna host this thing, so you better dance. And since the spotlight's gonna be on you, you'd better be good! Everyone will be watching!”

Oh boy. He was probably a dead man walking as it was and this wasn’t gonna help.

“And that means,” Mabel said, cheerfully oblivious, “That you two need to practice. Don't worry. Mabel's on the case and I'll make it happen.” She zapped him with the finger-guns and shoved Waddles aside enough to get to her feet. “I'll let you know where you need to be and when. Make sure you’re tidy, okay?”

‘Where’ turned out to be the old storage room he’d converted to a ramshackle boxing ring, the ropes downed and folded up in a corner. ‘When’ was late morning the following day, and ‘what’ - well. That was answered when Mabel came in, dragging the karaoke machine in her wake. Clary stepped in right after, a bandana at her neck and another binding back her hair, bleach spatters dotting her old t-shirt.

Stan stuffed hands in his pockets and rolled his shoulders back, doing his level best to meet her eyes without a twinge of guilt - because, come on, they were going to make a ton of money on this picnic thing - and found himself mostly failing. He was really starting to hate the polished, faint, impenetrable smile she had for him.

Mabel’s voice was a vague buzz through the tangle of his self-justification but he caught the gist of it - dazzle the rubes, make it look easy, inspire swooning jealousy in the audience. “All right,” she wrapped up, as rah-rah as he’d ever heard her. “Let’s you and him dance!”

Clary pinched her lips, unfolded her arms, and stalked out across the floor to join him.

“So,” Stan said.

“Mmhm.”

“Carved some time out of the schedule?”

“Barely. Your young lady over there makes a good argument.”

This was worse than her trying to punch him. Clary settled into the arch of his arm with professional precision, a frosty six inches of space between them, the six inches his mother had lectured him about a billion years ago and that he’d promptly ignored at the first opportunity to get up close and personal.

Stan maintained that six inches like his life depended on it because maybe it did.

“My waltz is all right. My samba’s shaky. Meet in the middle with foxtrot?” Clary looked up to him with clear, fearless eyes, the faintest of curves drawn along her lips. Her fingers were chapped and rough in his.

“Might as well start off easy. Mabel, whatcha got, pumpkin?”

“Got it!” There must have been some consultation beforehand because what came out of Mabel’s hot-pink speakers was honest-to-god big band music. Stan nearly protested and stifled it when Clary looked at him askance.

“Come on now,” she said sweetly. “We should really start with the lowest common denominator, shouldn’t we? If you would.”

He inhaled, flexed his hand at her waist and rocked back for the first step.

Their first pass around the room was dismal. She obviously had some formal training and he could barely remember what the hell went into a foxtrot, it’d been so long since he had done anything more than improvise on a foxtrot theme. There were a few near misses with her feet before she clicked her tongue and murmured. “Slow, slow, quick quick. I can tell you know this.”

One brassy number blended into the next as they paced and whirled, Mabel razzing them or calling encouragement by turns. “Clary, stop looking at him like you want to stab him! Dance is the language of love! You gotta sell it better than that!”

“Maybe I want to stab him.” Clary glared somewhere off over his left shoulder.

“No you don’t. You want to knock the socks off everyone at this party, right? I know you two can do it.”

Stan gritted his teeth and fought to earn back her trust with the respectful press of his palm, honoring whatever distance between them she wanted. By the third pass the six-inch block of ice had softened a little. “Spin?” he suggested, and at her faint nod he tried some fancier footwork.

They were uncoordinated, discordant, his feet clipping the edges of her sandals, frustration building between them as they lurched and wobbled. Mabel’s face was a worried glint in a corner of his eye. When Clary went off balance she caught herself with the awkward combination of a foot jabbed down out of sequence and his hand tightening at her waist in support.

He couldn’t quite look at her, but he hissed out, low as he could, “This is not gonna work if you can’t trust me a little.”

“Should I trust you?” she breathed back at him in a near-subsonic murmur. Her fingernails pricked at his shoulder.

Stan snorted softly. “Hell, no, you shouldn’t.”

There was a little pfft, pure disbelief, and a direct sidelong look of complete exasperation. The music spun to a stop as they stood interlocked and distant, then finally, mercifully, launched into the next tune. Something in her ramrod spine trembled, then snapped; he felt her make herself relax and sway into his grip.

“Fine,” Clary said dryly. “Honesty I can work with.”

This one was easy, a big swinging number with a nice solid four-square beat, nothing but a framework to whirl around the room to. Stan took it slow at first. She’d stopped fighting him so much, still hesitant but at least responsive to the little nudges that offered guidance, and as they moved he felt the tension in the room dissipating. The next time he signaled a spin she took the cue, pivoting neatly through and landing back in the crook of his arm with a quirked brow.

After a couple minutes he chuckled in surprise. “You’re not terrible at this.”

Her heel came down square on his toe, deliberate, he thought. “I suppose you’re not terrible either.”

Mabel relaxed too, flashing him a hasty thumbs up when Clary was looking elsewhere. The next track she cued up was overtly sappy, loaded with layered strings and lyrics dripping with longing. “Mabel,” snapped Clary. “Next please.”

“Sorry, wrong song!” Mabel wasn’t the least bit repentant but she did skip this one.

Time pressure was sort of a foreign thing for Stan - he had no problem putting his head down and plugging away, but was used to more open-ended projects. Possessed by grim determination, assisted by Soos through a couple of late nights, he got the Dreaming Denizens exhibit up and running in the nick of time.

They’d moved the cannibal pixie village over to hang in the rafters above the disguised darkroom. Melody had rigged a couple ragged little bits of LED-centered tulle mounted on wires to flutter around in the shadows. The effect was surprisingly creepy and convincing once they’d tweaked the lighting in that corner.

The ticketed picnic crowd had swelled to nearly seventy before Stan managed to shut it all down. Fortunately the Northwests had abandoned enough folding tables, chairs and lawn tents to handle twice that, easy, in the cavernous manor basement. At Clary’s direction they’d also hauled out enough stainless steel chafing dishes to serve a small army. Of course, they were serving an army.

“You could do weddings,” Stan mused to Soos as they stacked folding chairs in the lee of the Shack. “Bar mitzvahs, birthday parties, hell, just rent this stuff out. Be a shame to just let it molder in storage.”

“Set up a chapel?” Soos wiped his brow and grinned. “Might be fun, Mr. Pines. There’s still plenty to do around here.”

“I’m retired, y’know that. I’m only willin’ to crank out brilliant new merchandisin’ concepts for free because I like ya, kid.” Stan plucked off Soos’ cap and ruffled his hair before pivoting to haul down the next stack of chairs.

Dance practice with Mabel became an urgent matter for the last couple days before the event. Clary and Stan carved out half an hour at a time between projects. Mabel played all kinds of music at them - big band, BABBA, a smattering of 80s stuff, one or two classical waltzes - and they worked to adapt.

All of it was still professional. Polite. The impulse to pull Clary close for the slower bits was ever-present, but like hell was he going to screw things up any further. At least she was starting to pick up a familiar glow of satisfaction as they got the measure of one another. As partners they were really beginning to click. He regretted on some mercenary level that there wasn’t a contest or something around to game.

Thursday of that week was a whirlwind of setup and anticipation. Tents popped up like mushrooms across the summer-bleached lawn, the entire Shack crew bustling to get it laid out with time to spare. Clary was either helping move tables into place or tapping into her phone with a frown of focus, tracking the thousand things that needed to get done.

By late afternoon they were as close as they were going to get - the audio equipment would go up in the morning. Mabel and Dipper had been hovering around the edges of the fracas in anticipation, and as things slowed, they pounced.

“Clary, c’mon, we need to let the others finish up out here. I’ve got a couple of drink concepts in the kitchen I really need you to check out..” Mabel caught Clary’s hand and tugged, heading for the house. Clary was still thumbing through some checklist as she allowed herself to be hauled along.

Dipper waved frantically from the porch. Stan took the hint and headed off at a trot down the Shack’s long drive. By the time Clary was back outside, sipping warily from a tall glass of some sparkling pink concoction, he was rounding the corner in the purring Fairlane wagon.

Clary shrieked. She managed to fumble her glass down to the ground and dashed over to the car, running hands along the freshly rechromed grill, then flopping over to stretch her arms out along the polished hood. “I can’t believe it! Look at this thing, it’s like brand new!”

Stan killed the engine, hip-checked the door closed and held out the key, the finest of the Mystery Shack’s souvenir keychains dangling from its ring. “Ford an’ McGucket finished up late yesterday. I still want t’go over the insides one last time, but she’s runnin’ like a champ now.”

The first unrestrained smile he’d seen on her all week lit up her features. With great delicacy Clary hooked a finger into the keyring and plucked the key from his grip. “Thank you. All of you.”

“Nothin’ left to do but get through this party and then you’re finally on the road, huh?” Stan hooked thumbs through his belt loops and gave her the best of his showman’s grins, papering over the regret twisting hard in his gut with practiced ease. Her eyes flicked to his.

“We’ve still got a ton of work to do.” Clary reached out with a fist and cautiously nudged him in the shoulder with her knuckles. “I’ve got to go finish up a last round of prep at Greasy’s. You and Ford be ready to go at quarter to six, got it?”

“Got it.”

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“Should I trust you?” You’ve seen midwinter storms friendlier than the icy glint of those eyes.

Of course you can trust me!

We said we’d get the car fixed, we’re getting it fixed!

Honestly? Nope.

[harryandmolly]

The Long Way Home -6-

Summary: His world is a little rocked when Shawn is joined on his 2019 world tour by Emma, a former child star with a chip on her shoulder and a voice that haunts him.

Warnings: Language, feelings, underage drinking

Word count: 4.4k

Emma can’t breathe.

No, really, she can’t breathe. She stumbles out of the nook in sidestage and manages to throw herself past confused crew members until she reaches the first dressing room she finds, his, and shuts herself away.

She sinks into his couch and shoves her head between her knees, desperate for oxygen, for stability, for quiet. Her nose hits the cool leather of the sofa and that helps a little but she can still hear and feel everything. And it stings.

She plants her hands on the coffee table in an attempt to ground herself. It works enough to let her lift her head and look around.

Shawn’s dressing room is never trashed. There are water bottles everywhere from various friends and crew members but otherwise the place doesn’t look like it’s had a rock star anywhere near it. She focuses on noticing details about the space to drown out his voice. He’s finishing “Mercy” and he sounds a little more composed than he did during ‘Bad Rep’ which she wishes she wasn’t thinking about so she stares at one of his guitar picks sitting on the coffee table.

She picks it up and holds it between her thumb and index fingers in both hands like it’s the holy eucharist. It looks worn – Shawn gets attached to things easily so he carries around the same guitar pick until he loses it and when he does, he gets moody. It’s the only thing keeping her from stealing this pick and keeping it.

Emma stands, still a little shaky, and wipes at her nose with the back of her hand. She closes her eyes to steady herself but it backfires. In her mind’s eye, he’s turned toward her so obviously she’s sure the video is already all over the depths of Shawnblr and Instagram captioned by women screaming about who he could be singing to. She makes a foggy mental note not to look.

She does actually consider barricading herself in here and letting only him in when he’s done with the show but she remembers she has no idea what to say to him after their conflict last night. So she gathers herself as much as she can be gathered and leaves.

She stands outside the venue for a few minutes willing the redness in her eyes and cheeks to mellow before she can think about heading back to her bus. She can’t distinguish his words anymore but she can sift through the din to find that it’s “Lost in Japan.” She gives herself until the end of the song before she begins the death march to the bus.

She’s not remotely surprised to find Sandra and Margaret up hunched over the table in the front lounge with at least three laptops and finishing up another phone call regarding her career she wasn’t included on. Her melancholy and hollowness are sapped out by bristling annoyance.

“Anything I should know?” Emma snaps, folding her arms over her chest, looking indignant despite being out of the bus after the agreed upon bedtime rules.

Sandra and Margaret exchange a look that says ‘let’s not even go there.’

“We have a meeting next week with Kyle Dillon’s publicity team in Chicago. I’ll talk to styling about your look. Need you up at 4 for your morning routine before the meeting at 8.”

Emma, not for the first time at taking instruction from Margaret while Sandra’s nose is in her phone, is dumbfounded.

“Kyle Dillon? For what? A collab?”

Kyle Dillon’s raunchy hip hop/pop wouldn’t mesh all that well with her bubblegum fluff pop but it wouldn’t be the first time her manager, mother and agent all came up with something so ridiculous Emma thought for sure it was a joke.

“We’re working on an image thing,” Margaret sighs, aggravated by having to explain it, “Your Influencer numbers are down. We need something to give you a boost. You and Kyle are going to go out for a while, get you back on the board.”

Emma swallows. They want her to fake date Kyle Dillon. It’s like the start of a really weird fanfiction.

She runs her tongue against her lower lip and furrows her brow, unsure of where to begin arguing. Not that it will matter. Not yet, anyway.

+

Shawn doesn’t look for her when he gets off stage. He doesn’t check her dressing room, doesn’t scan through her Spotify to see if she’s still up and blasting Hank Williams on her bus. He showers quickly and goes to bed under the weight of all his band and crew’s curious eyes. He’s pretty sure he’ll wake up feeling normal again now that he’s got it out of his system.

He doesn’t.

When they arrive in Chicago, it marks 5 days since they’ve talked, which is the longest streak they’ve had since they became friends over the tour break. Shawn is grouchy, which is pretty unusual for him. When he gets like this, it’s because he’s chewing on a song, but it only ever lasts a day or two at the most before he finds his way through it. This is different and no one can agree on who should try to poke the bear to get to the bottom of it. At a loss, they leave him alone.

Emma is pretending nothing’s wrong because that’s what she’s good at. She pretends it’s absolutely fine that Mabel wrangled her into a sheer blouse and a tartan mini skirt for this “meeting” that feels more like two families arranging a marriage. It’s definitely fine that Kyle has been looking across the conference room table at her like she’s his birthday present. And it’s fine that she can’t get Shawn’s face and voice during their weird “Bad Rep” moment the other day out of her mind.

Everything is absolutely fine.

They’re not signing contracts or anything, it’s not quite that formal. They’re all in a big room talking weird, seemingly inconsequential logistics – “well, Island really wants her to be seen with Shawn and—” “yes, but Capitol really needs him to bring the young girls back in so—” “with an average of 3-5 Instagram posts on each of their accounts per week, we can—”

Emma tunes it out. She watches Kyle across the table as he eyes her. Two or three years ago, Emma would’ve given her left arm to be set up in this kind of arrangement with Kyle Dillon. He’s a former YouTuber, not unlike Shawn, but he always maintained a sharper edge and more of a ladykiller vibe in contrast to Shawn’s more earnest, pink-cheeked Canadian thing.

Shawn’s never looked at her like this, like he wants to crawl under the table and bury his face between her legs. Emma’s a little disturbed by recognizing her disappointment in that. But it’s disappointment mixed with appreciation, too, because maybe he wants more than that from her.

Or he wants more than that from the version of her he’d get after he fixed her, maybe.

Kyle is about 5’8”, slim, wiry build. He’s got that skinny six pack thing happening. He’s half black and half Jewish and happens to be covered in gorgeous freckles that Emma used to try to count on a poster on her wall. And he can dance.

Could be worse, she reminds herself, licking her lips across the table at him. His eyebrows lift. She smirks. He giggles. She giggles back.

The meeting ends with Kyle and Emma exchanging phone numbers and Sandra giving Emma a disapproving look for her mid-meeting flirting. As though it’s inappropriate to be making eyes at the guy you’re being set up to look like you’re sleeping with. Emma ignores her.

Kyle texts her that night while she’s in bed listening to “There’s Nothing Holdin’ Me Back” on repeat, trying to get “Bad Reputation” out of her head. They talk for an hour. He doesn’t make her wait between texts or anything, no games are being played. Since it’s all meant to be manufactured, there’s less pressure, she notices.

He’s not as big a douche as he seems in the media sometimes, which is cool. He definitely has his moments that put her off and he tries to get her to sext with him which she’s absolutely not interested in but overall, he doesn’t seem as obnoxious as she expected.

She kind of wanted him to be, though. It would be nice to throw in Sandra’s face. And… and a piece of her doesn’t want to be attracted to anyone but Shawn right now. She doesn’t let herself think about why after their blow-up. His stunt in St. Paul on stage made it harder to ignore. But she’ll be damned if she doesn’t try.

But if Kyle will get Sandra and Margaret off her back for a few minutes, fine. She’s not up for a fight, anyway. Ashley is coming, thank god.

Emma and Ashley met by happenstance outside a bar in West Hollywood. Emma had been having dinner with Margaret and Sandra next door at some ritzy Italian place where they were sure Emma would get papped. Emma didn’t even really know who Ashley was while they were both standing on the curb waiting for their cars from the valet. Ashley struck up a conversation, asked Emma for a selfie and tagged it on Instagram. They started DMing and Ashley invited her out with her and her crew and the rest, as they say, is history, thoroughly recorded in headlines on Perez Hilton and Buzzfeed.

Ashley’s attending a club opening in Chicago during the few days they have off before the show at Allstate Arena. Emma was going to go anyway, obviously, she and Mabel have been prepping potential outfit choices for over a week, but it’s decided that it’s the perfect opportunity for Emma and Kyle to “meet” and “hit it off.”

Ashley arrives in style, as expected. She’s pocket sized compared to Emma but somehow seems to take up all the space in any room she occupies. Emma likes that about Ashley – it’s not often she gets to fade into the background, be less seen. With Ashley it’s almost an inevitability.

She looks like a walking, talking Snow White only with better eyebrows and a killer body. It occurs to Emma briefly that she might do well to keep Ashley as far away from Shawn as possible the next couple days… but then she remembers she’s not supposed to care that much. And, honestly, given the way he spat Ashley’s name during their showdown makes her think maybe Ashley is no threat to Emma at all. Not that Emma is in a position to be threatened by the idea of someone else wanting Shawn. Obviously.

Ashley is on the phone with her agent when Emma heads out in search of caffeine for them. She turns the corner in the narrow hotel hallway and finds herself a faceful of chest. She practically bounces back off of Shawn, who instinctively reaches out to grab her arms to steady her. The look on his face seems to Emma like regret when he realizes it’s her. Maybe after everything he’d rather see her spring backwards and fall flat on her toned little ass.

He’s walking back up from the hotel gym. He’s all musky and sweaty and Emma actually has to clench her thighs a little from feeling the moisture from his t-shirt condensate on her nose. She coughs.

“Hi,” she croaks, not avoiding his eyes like she sometimes does.

He looks uncertain. “Hi.”

She opens her mouth to say hopefully something coherent when he speaks again.

“Are you—I mean, how… are you good?” he stumbles, ducking his head and reaching for the back of his neck bashfully. Emma wants to call a technical foul – he can’t be allowed to be this cute when he’s otherwise being so annoying.

She raises her chin. “I’m good. Ashley’s here. We’re going to a club opening tonight.”

Shawn’s jaw visibly clenches. “I know. I’m going too.”

Emma’s tough shell cracks too easily. “You’re… what?”

He shrugs. “Island still thinks we should be BFFs. Thinks Ashley Jackson might be good for business.”

His disapproving tone makes her want to smack him. Instead, she purses her lips and narrows her eyes.

“Well, you gotta do what you gotta do.”

If she were in a generous mood, she would forewarn him about Kyle. But she decides he hasn’t really earned it. Instead, she steps past him, feels her heart shriek out desperately like it wants her to turn around and run face first into his chest again. She continues her caffeine hunt like nothing’s wrong.

Shawn leans against the wall. She doesn’t always bring out the best in him, he’s noticed. He has an odd protective streak that turns him a little more sarcastic and biting than he usually is. He definitely doesn’t like it. But he’s not sure how to control it, either.

Fifteen minutes later, Emma wiggles her keycard into the electronic door lock while holding two green tea lattes. Ashley is perched on the end of the bed, stock straight like the dancer she used to be, scrolling through her phone.

“That took a while,” Ashley purrs knowingly. Emma chuckles, glances down at her Stan Smiths.

“Ran into Shawn in the hallway,” Emma states, sitting cross legged on the bed a few feet from Ashley.

Ashley is focused now. She lifts the plastic cup to her lips, keeping her eyes trained on Emma. “Do tell.”

“There’s something… I don’t know. I don’t know what he wants from me. He’s… I think sometimes he sees right through me, right into me. And then as soon as I’m comfortable he says something that makes me think he wants to change me.”

Ashley nods sagely. “Men are so threatened by women that have fun. They’re not comfortable unless you’re just doing your job and lying down at night under some fucking loser who only wants to do missionary.”

Emma snorts, unconvinced, and glances away as she speaks. “He’s a nice guy. We texted a lot over tour break. But I can’t figure him out. The other night… nevermind.”

Emma looks back at Ashley who’s looking back down at her phone. She raises her little pointed nose in a polite smile. “Hmm?”

Emma misses Shawn a lot in that moment. She shakes her head, pretending it’s unimportant. It’s better, anyway. Ashley probably doesn’t even know “Bad Reputation” and wouldn’t be able to help, instead spewing something about Penny Lane and Kate Hudson being robbed of an Oscar. Emma doesn’t know what Ashley is talking about sometimes but it makes her feel like she has a cool older sister who goes off on intelligent tangents. And gets her weed.

That night, the caravan returns. There’s an extra car for all of Ashley’s crew and her oversized ego.

Shawn watches with interest as they all pile in, Ashley and Emma last. Emma looks beautiful and uncomfortable by her friend’s posse. It stirs a little whisper of hope in Shawn’s gut. Em is here, too.

But Em is not the only unexpected guest.

Shawn sort of hates himself for being at a club opening, especially one called “Trench” but his friends are here and everyone else is game so he has to be, too. He starts in on the bourbon as soon as they’re in the cars. He has two fingers of it in his hand almost as soon as he walks through the door at Trench, which does strikingly resemble a trench.

He eyes Emma carefully. She’s too good for this place. She looks so fucking cute tonight, he thinks, hoping no one’s watching as he rakes her from head to toe, admiring her white slip dress that looks more like a nightgown than most nightgowns he’s seen, and her cool slicked back hair. He wants to put an arm around her shoulders and walk around, absorb some of her clout.

But, he thinks bitterly with a slug from his drink, the clout is fake. He likes what’s real. And the longer they’re standing around in the overcrowded VIP section of Trench, the more he wishes he could be with Em in his dressing room plucking at acoustics, maybe writing together. Instead he’s watching Emma and Ashley do shots of Patron for the ‘Gram.

He plunks himself down between Geoff and Brian, silent and stoic. They do their best to engage him but aren’t surprised when he doesn’t respond. He’s been a little dead behind the eyes since the night of “Bad Rep.” Which still no one understands.

Shawn isn’t actually watching Emma when Kyle appears. He’s glancing around the club trying to guess how much this place spent on blacklights through his bourbon-soaked haze. Geoff nudges him. Shawn looks up.

He’s never met Kyle Dillon in person but he’s heard stories. Kyle Dillon stories remind him a little bit of Blackbeard. Depending on who they’re told by, they’re either spoken in hushed, reverent tones about a master seducer so legendary you don’t dare speak his name above a whisper, or it’s made plain that he’s a douche. By the way Kyle greets Emma with a wet kiss on her cheek and a palm flat on her ass, Shawn’s comfortable assuming the latter.

He tenses slightly and feels his fingers test the cool walls of his high ball glass. Kyle talks into Emma’s ear and by the way she flutters her eyelashes and shrugs an arm around his waist, it’s clear this isn’t their first meeting. Shawn’s throat starts to close up so he waves down more bourbon. And keep ‘em coming.

Emma feels his eyes burning a hole in the back of her dress. Let them, she thinks, this is who I am.

Even after three shots of Patron, she doesn’t have herself believing that.

This is the second fucking time he’s been frustrated almost to the point of tears by her antics in a club. He doesn’t even like clubs. What the fuck is he fucking doing here? If he were a little more sober, he’d have the good sense to get up and leave before he did something stupid or witnessed her do something stupider. A piece of him still wants to be around, though, in case Ashley reaches for a little bag of whatever in her purse. Not that that’s Shawn’s job, to be caring about what Emma may or may not be using recreationally. Maybe it’s her new boyfriend Kyle’s.

He hears Kyle’s name in a whiney, snarky voice in his head. He reaches for more bourbon. He doesn’t want to hear anything in his head.

An hour after Kyle arrives, Emma finally gets to sit down. The tequila hasn’t quite dulled the ache of her new pointed toe disco ball Louboutins. But she loves them like she would love a pet if she were allowed one. She actually looks down at them affectionately and rubs off a mark with a thumb she licks.

She leans back and swings one leg over the other, sighing. She clocks Kyle talking to someone that looks suspiciously like Zac Efron at the far end of the VIP section. Ashley went to do a line in the ladies’ bathroom. Time to look for Shawn.

Her placidly interested expression drops when she sees him. He’s a little slumped over in a booth. Geoff is illuminated by a blacklight on the opposite side and is wearing a serious expression. Emma’s heart throws itself across the room before she can even scramble to her feet to check it out.

Her hustle in her shoes is impressive. She reaches him in a few long, brisk steps. She tries not to make a scene as she squats beside the table, wishing her dress wasn’t so goddamn short. Fucking Mabel.

Geoff eyes her warily. Her face tightens. Her bullshit tolerance is low tonight.

“How much has he had to drink?” Emma asks without looking directly at Shawn. She sees his head bobbing slightly in her periphery. She tries not to wince.

Geoff looks like he’s about to get defensive, which Emma has no time for. She rolls her eyes and straightens up.

“We have to get him out of here. I don’t want people seeing him like this.”

A flash of confusion at Emma’s concern shows on Geoff’s face before he can paste over it with resignation. He nods.

Emma looks to Shawn, finally. His eyes are open, barely, and he’s still holding onto a melting glass of boozy ice. She wrenches it out of his fingers and lifts his hand, squeezing.

“Hey, look at me,” she demands, voice as quiet as ever but firm. Shawn’s eyes wander to hers. He frowns almost comically.

“C’mon, let’s blow this popsicle stand,” she mutters, jerking her head at Geoff to help get him upright. Thankfully, at this time of night, no one’s really watching them and the VIP section is well hidden from the rest of the club. There’s a separate exit to a pap-free zone outside. Their cars were supposed to meet out front to catch her and Kyle “canoodling” outside.

With one arm around Shawn’s frame and one hand frantically shooting a text to the driver, she maneuvers them toward the exit before it’s blocked by a familiar freckly face.

“Hey, he ok?” Kyle asks, raising his eyebrows at Shawn, looking judgey. Emma wants to slap the smirk off his face. She huffs.

“He’s fine, I’m taking him back. We’ll have to get papped some other time.”

Kyle looks like he’s ready to argue and she’s sure it’s more about what he thought was going to happen after they got back to the hotel that he’s disappointed about. She doesn’t give him the time. She and Geoff sweep Shawn through the doors. She’s pleased he’s a compliant drunk rather than sad, angry, or, the worst of all, tricky.

The car is waiting for them. Geoff helps get him inside and they sandwich him in the backseat on the unnervingly quiet drive back to the hotel. Again, they’re brought around back despite the late hour, just in case any fans have staked out the place. Geoff and Emma are still silent on their trek up through the back bowels of the hotel to the service elevator, but Shawn has started blabbering.

He’s muttering into Geoff’s shoulder, nuzzling him sweetly. Emma tries not to smile. Shawn’s eyes open as he’s rolling his temple against Geoff’s arm and he seems to spot Emma.

“Ems,” he whispers, closing his eyes like the name brings him comfort. Goosebumps spread on her skin like wildfire. Geoff turns his eyes to the ground wisely.

He continues mumbling, talking incoherently about something or nothing, looking over at her through squinty eyes as though she should be paying attention to what he’s saying but she’s too busy trying not to twist an ankle in her skyscraper stilettos while she steers him down the corridor.

Outside his room, Geoff swipes Shawn’s wallet and locates the keycard. They get him inside and flop him down face up on the bed. Shawn’s eyebrows pull together and he releases a low groan that makes Emma smile. She looks around, takes stock of her supplies, before she kicks off her shoes and nods once at Geoff.

“You can go.”

Geoff looks baffled. “I…?”

“Go. I’ve got this.”

She’s not leaving him much room for protest and by the ‘don’t fuck with me’ look in her eye, he takes option number one and bails, telling her to text him if he needs anything. Emma makes a mental note that she likes Geoff more now.

She plants her hands on her hips and looks down at Shawn. He’s sprawled awkwardly on the bed, jaw hanging open slightly, eyes fluttering. She’s had some practice with the drunken hotel room recovery thing, so she slips into nurse mode.

She pulls off his shoes and belt so he’s at least a little more comfortable. She almost goes to remove his button up but it feels just a hair past too intimate so she leaves it. He’s sleepily pliant, moving as she needs him to, even sitting up so she can force feed him a bottle of water and some aspirin. He’s still talking about absolutely nothing, head bobbling, eyes opening and closing randomly.

When he’s downed the water, she props him up long enough to retrieve a lined garbage can to leave by the bed. When she returns, he’s hunched over sideways like a plant towards the sun. She hauls him upright and smooths her fingers through his hair before she realizes how… not ok that was.

He opens his cloudy chestnut eyes at her like he forgot she was there. “Emma.”

“It’s me,” she confirms under her breath, watching his adam’s apple bob on his throat.

“Kyle Dillon,” Shawn groans, swallowing roughly.

She expects him to follow that up with another thought. He doesn’t. It seems to say enough.

He closes his eyes for a minute or two, breathing quietly. “Why?” he whispers.

It breaks her heart just a little bit.

“It’s fake,” she admits easily, “It’s a PR stunt.”

Shawn opens his eyes again. “Fake? Like Hailey?”

He’s a little childlike and blabby when he’s drunk, making him more adorable than she anticipated. She giggles. “Fake like Hailey.”

Shawn seems satisfied by this and shimmies back against the headboard. He’s coming back little by little, Emma can tell. She’s not going to leave until he’s mostly sober. Not even if he wants her to.

“What happened the other night?” she hears herself say.

She and Shawn look equally shocked by her words. She snaps her jaw shut and frowns.

“The… song?” Shawn guesses, wincing as he adjusts on the mattress. She nods.

“I didn’t know you were there.”

Emma doesn’t buy it. “Funny, because I know you saw me. I know that’s where you watch my shows from.”

Shawn looks a little guilty, a little sheepish and a little indignant. “I only ever listen to ‘How I’ve Been.’ Your other music…”

“Sucks?” she chuckles. He returns the sound but it sounds choked off and tired. She curls her legs up to her side and he watches.

“You’re so fuckin’ pretty, Em.”

Words Emma’s heard since she was a small child. Easy to swallow, not so easy to believe.

“I like you.”

Now those… those are new.

Taglist: @the-claire-bitch-project @smallerinfinities @crapri @stillinskislydia @carlaimberlain @abigfatmess @rosecolouredtimes @heavenly—holland @wanderingmendes @blush-and-books

[thatdisastrousfangirl-writes]

The Other Way Chapter 9: Sorry I’m Late

Chapter 1 - Last Chapter - Next Chapter

I finally updated! I’ll try to get the next chapter up within the next two week to make up for taking so long with this one :)

By the time Dipper started recognising what was happening around himself again, he had already been tied up and brought into a large room, with what had to be some kind of summoning circle in the middle. Two robbed figures ran around it, each adding final details to a more complex outer circle that enclosed the simpler inner one, and lighting candles respectively, in a rush to get things done. Dipper pulled at the rope tying his wrists together behind his back to no avail, the knot staying as tight as before. 

Why did this have to be happening? Why couldn’t I have just gotten out with the others? What happened to me back there?

He continued to try and pick at the rope holding him there, making little to no progress when two more cultists entered the room, holding onto Rachael’s arms, dragging her in behind themselves. 

“You’re all going to regret this!” she yelled at them, fighting back. “He hates human sacrifice! How could you idiots possibly not know that?!” At that her captors dumped her unceremoniously next to Dipper, Rachael’s face falling when seeing him, before getting even angrier. “He especially hates sacrifices when they’re just kids! Honestly when I realised you morons were planing on summoning my Lord I couldn’t believe it, it was such a suicidal idea! The second you call Him here and offer us up Alcor will make you all wish you were never born!” 

Wait.

When Rachael said Alcor Dipper immediately started paying more attention to what she was saying. He had been listening, off course, just not as closely as he could have been. But, there was no way she could have been referring to his demonic counterpart, could she? The dislike for sacrificing people would be comforting to have cleared up but, did she also refer to him as, her ‘Lord’? 

“Did you just say Alcor?” Dipper asked, needing to know for sure.

Rachael paused mid rant and looked over at him. “Yeah, the Dreambender, Twin star, Owner of a Thousand Other Titles No One Ever Bothers to Learn. Why you know any other demons who hate people murdering for them?”

‘Well, I guess not but-“ 

“Look, kid I wouldn’t worry about it, once these nut jobs summon Alcor he’ll easily get you back to your family, or at the very least somewhere safe.” she interrupted. “I don’t know what people outside the Circle teach each other about him but he’d never willingly hurt a child. It’s going to be alright.” 

“Circle? Wait, are you part of a cult that worships him?!” Dipper asked, really not sure how to feel about that. Because no. But also yes? Maybe? A little? Defiantly no but maybe yes. 

“The Circle’s not a cult! And I don’t worship him, I just, have a great deal of respect for him.” 

“Silence!” The fox tailed woman, who had been there when Dipper was captured, was standing in front of them, from the other side of the circle. The cultist had finished getting set up and had surrounded the circle, with Dipper and Rachael between it and them. 

The woman, their leader, raised her arms, with everyone following her lead, and began chanting. 

The candles flared up, changing into a bright blue, and casting strange shadows all over the room, which slunk into the centre of the circle, building up and up as the chanting reached it’s crescendo. At the final word the shadows crashed down around everyone, filling the room, until it cleared out, revealing an empty circle. 

Everyone stared in stunned silence, waiting for something to happen, the leader getting visibly angrier each second it looked like their summoning hadn’t worked. 

Dipper wasn’t sure if he had wanted Alcor to come, because he still didn’t know if he trusted him, even with the new information. But then on the other hand he was still captured by a cult that had apparently been planing to sacrifice him to, himself. One way or another Dipper just wanted all this to be over. 

After a minute of watching the circle in shocked silence a loud crash, followed by somewhat frantic whispers, came from just outside the closed door, grabbing everyones attention. Dipper watched as the leader motioned for a few cultists to go investigate, the two standing on either side of her moving towards the door. However just before they could reach it, it slammed open, hitting one of them in the face. 

“Hey sorry I’m late! Was a bit busy trying to find my spooky cultist robes. Ended up having to steal them from the guy guarding the door. So what’s happening, what’d I miss?” There standing in front of the open door was Alcor, true to his word wearing an overly large robe over his suit, behind him a heavy set man tied up and lying on the floor unconscious. 

Everyone stared. Alcor stared back. “Nothing?” he prompted, slouching at the confused, minimal responses from those in the room. “Ugh, fine, I’m not even entirely sure where I was going with this anyway.” And he clicked his fingers.  

“What are we waiting for? Let’s go save my brother!” Mabel began running towards the building Alcor had looked at, but had only managed a few steps before Alcor caught her by the back of her sweater. 

“Oh no you don’t! You are waiting here and staying out of trouble!” Alcor stated, picking Mabel up and placing her behind him. “Stay!” he said pointing sharply at her, and left before she had the opportunity to argue back. In the blink on an eye he vanished into the house, Mabel staring stunned, at where Alcor had just been. 

There is no way I am just going to stand around out here while my bro bro is in danger. 

Mabel ran up the the steps to the door and kicked it open, and then immediately regretting it. OW! That hurt a lot more then the movies made it look. 

Still determined to help Mabel limped down the hall way, looking for both her actual, and alternate brothers. “Come on, where are you guys? This place can’t be that big, can it?” she whispered to herself, pressing forward once coming across the set of stairs descending downwards. At the bottom was a short corridor, with a closed door at the end, Alcor hovering just outside it. He had a weird robe in his hands, which must have belonged to the man tied up below him. When Mabel reached the bottom he looked up at her and jumped back in surprise, bumping into the wall knocking over the mirror hanging there with a crash. 

“Mabel! What are you doing here?! I told you to stay!” he whisper shouted at her. 

“But I want to help! I-“

“No!” he interrupted. “You are going back up those stairs and out of potential danger right this instance!” Yet again without giving her the chance to fight back he flicked his wrist and with a slight lurch not dissimilar the time Alcor teleported the twins to his house, she was outside the house again. She stomped her foot and immediately ran back into the house. She wasn’t going to be dissuaded so easily, she was going to help whether Alcor wanted her to or not. Before she could reach the stairs however someone ran into her, knocking her down to the ground. Mabel looked up to see who it was and was immediately overjoyed, jumping right up and giving Dipper the biggest, sisterly bear hug she could muster. 

“DIPPER!! You’re alright!” she yelled. 

“Mabel! Air! Need!” Dipper choked out, smiling nonetheless. 

Mabel let go laughing, wiping her eyes. “Sorry! I’m just so glad you’re okay!”

“Me too!” This time it was Dippers turn to pull her into a rib cracking hug. “What are you doing here?” he asked, letting go. 

“I came to help rescue you!” she held up the baseball bat Alcor had given her for self defence, to show how serious she was about it all. “Did Alcor help you escape already?”

Dipper didn’t answer, instead stubbornly looking away to the side. At his silence the woman behind him made herself known and stepped closer to the two of them. “Yes he did. Did you summon him to help find Dipper?” she asked. 

Mabel thought for a second. “Er. Yes. And you are?” 

“Rachael, a, fellow escapee, and I really think we should take this conversation outside.” Rachael began walking towards the door, urging them to follow. Mabel did still want to help Alcor, but her Dipper was safe now, and the loud rumbling starting to come from downstairs suggested he probably had things at least somewhat under control. 

Mabel looked at Dipper, who had started looking nervously behind themselves when the rumbling had, took his hand, bringing his attention back to her. “Come on Bro bro, let’s worry about that, after we’ve left this creepy place.” 

[fromtheringapron]

WWF SummerSlam 1994

Date: August 29, 1994

Location: The United Center in Chicago, Illinois

Attendance: 23,000

Commentary: Vince McMahon and Jerry Lawler

Results:

1. Bam Bam Bigelow & Irwin R. Schyster (with Ted DiBiase) defeated The Headshrinkers (Fatu & Samu) (with Afa and Capatain Lou Albano) via disqualification.

2. WWF Women’s Championship Match: Alundra Blayze (champion) defeated Bull Nakano (with Luna Vachon).

3. WWF Intercontinental Championship Match: Razor Ramon (with Walter Peyton) defeated Diesel (champion) (with Shawn Michaels) to win the title. 

4. Tatanka defeated Lex Luger. 

5. Jeff Jarrett defeated Mabel (with Oscar). 

6. Steel Cage Match for the WWF World Heavyweight Championship: Bret Hart (champion) defeated Owen Hart. 

7. The Undertaker (with Paul Bearer) defeated The Undertaker (with Ted DiBiase). 

Analysis

SummerSlam 1994 is pretty underrated, although it’s easy to see why it’s never received the praise it deserves. As this show takes place in the mid ‘90s, the wrestling business is stuck in struggle city, and the WWF isn’t an exception. The glory days of the Rock ’n’ Wrestling era are long gone and in their place is the New Generation which, despite putting the spotlight on the likes of Bret Hart and Shawn Michaels, is churning out a number of one-note characters who fail to catch on with fans. Though this is the first pay-per-view following Vince McMahon’s exoneration on steroid distribution charges, the resulting bad publicity from the scandal has cost the WWF millions of dollars in a time already marked by low revenue. With all that messiness as a backdrop, this show is seemingly fated to not be fondly remembered.

Much like the year’s King of the Ring, a similarly underrated show, this edition of SummerSlam is also known for its notoriously bad main event which pits The Undertaker against, well, The Undertaker. In some ways, the whole fake Undertaker storyline is a classic example of campy ‘90s WWF cheese. Heck, the moment Paul Bearer opens a giant gold urn to summon a ray of white light feels like something straight out of an attraction at Disney World. Unfortunately, the actual match is a total dud, which brings the previously hot Chicago crowd to complete silence. Their indifference is birthed out of confusion more than anything. It’s obvious Ted DiBiase’s Undertaker is the fake, so where’s the fun in watching the real one beating the crap out of him for 12 minutes? You can just tell from the inflection in Vince McMahon’s voice on commentary that he knows this thing is a flop from the opening bell. The build to the match is also hampered by skits featuring Leslie Nielsen trying to track down the real Undertaker, which aren’t even as funny as some of the Zucker brothers’ worst parody films.

Despite these blunders, it’s still a solid show overall. All three title matches here range from fun to fantastic. Though it has its detractors (and I can only suggest they remain in hiding), the steel cage match between Bret and Owen Hart is one of the best ever. I personally love how it puts emphasis on escaping the cage, which you’d think would be the obvious objective but most cage matches don’t play with the idea enough. The flurry of escape attempts by both men is still just as exciting to watch now and even if the match goes over 30 minutes, it’s never boring. The ending is particularly creative, with Owen hanging upside down like a brat stuck on a jungle gym, a poetic end to the character’s story arc over the previous nine months. The Intercontinental and Women’s title matches are forgotten gems, the latter marking one of the brightest moments for the WWF’s sorely underutilized mid ‘90s women’s division. I’d ramble on how Alundra Blayze deserved better, but then I’d just be stating the obvious.

Opinions vary on Tatanka’s heel turn on this show, and it did wind up killing his WWF career in the long-run, but it’s somewhat clever for its time. Of course, we in 2018 would’ve seen the turn coming a mile away the instant Tatanka really started harping on Lex Luger about his alleged involvement with the Million Dollar Corporation. But for 1994? Kinda shocking, and no doubt it pulled the wool over the eyes of the WWF’s younger audience. It’s been argued Luger turning heel instead would’ve been the better result for both the storyline and Luger’s career. I certainly agree but that doesn’t take away the actual turn, which solidifies Tatanka as a heel pretty well. The image of him stuffing money down the throat of an Americana-attired Luger is killer.

There are a couple of interesting bits of trivia unique to this show as well. Firstly, on a sad note, this is the last WWF pay-per-view appearance of Randy Savage, who stands as the last remaining bastion of the previous era. It’s a pretty inconsequential curtain call to one of the biggest and most iconic superstars in the company’s history, as he only makes a brief appearance here. He’ll be in WCW by the end of the year and never truly make his way back into the fold. This also remains the only WWF/E show to take place at the United Center, with the company sticking to the Rosemont Horizon as its Chicago go-to ever since. Fortunately, the change in venue here doesn’t hinder the Chicago fans from being their typically great  selves. Well, except for the main event, of course. But a dull contest between two dead men needs a dead crowd to match, I guess.

My Random Notes

This show sees the debut of The Undertaker’s new purple look, often dubbed as “Purple Taker,” which a lot of people dislike but I personally love. Still don’t know what possessed them to change the color of his attire though. I feel like the mindset in the ‘90s was basically “Mmm, you know what would make this thing look more modern? Purple!”

Even if the fake Undertaker thing was a bust, it’s weird how it didn’t stop them from doing pretty much the same thing with his brother Kane 12 years later.

The dead giveaway to Tatanka’s heel turn is clearly his bangs, am I right?

During the opening match, Vince McMahon translates Afa’s words as “Domino’s delivers!” You can always count on ‘90s Vince to drop some corny dad humor and a shameless tie-in to the sponsors all at once.

Kinda surprised they brought Davey Boy Smith back into the fold immediately following the steroid scandal considering his firing two years before was due to that exact thing. At least he had enough sense to update his look into that of a jacked Eddie Vedder just in time for the show.

Gotta love Diana Hart Smith going into business for herself by flopping over the guard rail along with her husband. Get it, girl.

As if you needed proof of the WWF’s casual racism in the ‘90s, poor Bull Nakano is saddled with the old Orient Express music for her entrance, the same music given to a bunch of other Asian wrestlers around the same time period.

I couldn’t help but notice: 1.) How out-of-touch Men on a Mission feels to the actual rap scene in 1994, which was increasingly leaning towards gangsta rap, and 2.) That there’s little to no evidence here that Mabel will take part in the worst SummerSlam main event ever just a year later.

I’m a bit of an Adam Bomb mark so I’m a little sad his match with Kwang was relegated to pre-show status and that we were robbed of seeing him defeat his blood rival, as I’m sure that’s what the whole world was dying to see.

On the Million Dollar Corporation: For a stable that could’ve been truly great, I don’t think it quite took off as intended. It feels like everyone who joined became this boring, diluted version of themselves and most of the storylines involving them totally dragged. So of course they went on to suck up a large bulk of TV time in the year following this show, including a pivotal role in the main event of WrestleMania 11. Such is the tale of WWF’s creative woes in the mid ‘90s.

[secret-kkh-fics]

Anywhere But Home | Chapter 4

Due to this not being posted anywhere else yet, please like but DON’T REBLOG my fics.

Chapter Summary:

The twins call a Code Fluffy to try and make Pacifica feel better. Mabel gains some new blackmail material.

Author Note:

Hello all again! Well, all I have to say about this chapter is that it is pure fluff. Every bit of it. So, I hope you enjoy it!

Cuddles and Potential Blackmail 

“Hey, Dipper?” Mabel called out from the kitchen.  

“Yeah?” he called back.  

“Code Fluffy?”  

He looked at Pacifica, staring at her like he was trying to decide something. “Do you want to sleep?” he asked her. Pacifica shrugged in response. “Code Fluffy!” he shouted.  

“Okay, you're getting the blankets!”  

“I know!” He turned back to Pacifica. “We're going to have to try and get you upstairs.” She groaned at the prospect. There was no way she was going to be able to get up a flight of stairs. “It's okay. You won't even have to put any weight on your foot at all. I'll help you.”  

“No offence, but I saw your stairs on the way in and they look tiny.”  

“Yeah, they are a bit... Why would that be offensive?”  

“Ah... because I kind of think that everything in this house is tiny and dirty.”  

“Pfft!” he snorted. “That's because you live in a mansion. And because this place is really old and inhabited by an old man who doesn't know the meaning of the word 'clean'. Now come here, you snob.”  

She glared at him for that, but it wasn't as sharp as her usual one, she noticed that his tone seemed teasing. Like... in a nice way, not a nasty way. The way that friends teased each other. The idea of Dipper seeing her as a friend kind of made her feel... warm.  

Smiling slightly, she gingerly lifted her foot off the skull table and rested it on the ground. Dipper grabbed her bag and hoisted it onto his back, then offered her a hand. Once he'd helped her to her feet, he stood on the side of her bad foot and ducked his head so that she could put an arm around his shoulder. Even though he was stooped down, she still found that he was a bit tall. She knew that by the end of this, he was going to be as sore as she was... well, almost.  

“Ready?” he asked.  

“Yeah, I guess.”  

Slowly they began walking, Dipper going as slow and steady as she could, acting as her crutch. She hobbled along beside him, glad that she didn't have to put any weight on her foot. The hopping was already starting to get to her, her feet already sore from running. And she was sure she was putting most of her weight on Dipper. She turned to apologise or something for it, then noticed that he was still practically at her eye level. “Are you still crouching?” she asked incredulously.  

“Well, yeah, you're short.”  

“Hey!”  

He chuckled. “Relax. Why do the really short ones always get so worked up? Height's no big deal I mean, I'm short for my age. Even Mabel's taller than me.”  

“Seriously?”  

“Yep. Well, only by a millimetre, but that's enough for her to claim she's the alpha twin. Doesn't help that she's outgoing and older than me by five minutes... I'm just crossing my fingers for another growth spurt soon.” She suddenly realised that they'd been standing still since she'd noticed him stooping, and she realised why. They were standing at the base of the stairs. She bit her lip, looking up at the rickety staircase in apprehension. “Hey, it's okay, you can do this,” he told her. “You've got me and the rail. You'll just have to kind of jump I guess.”  

She gave him a determined nod, and they started up. She relied on Dipper and the rail quite heavily, putting all her weight on them and swinging her way up. They almost fell down a few times, and her arms and good leg were horribly tired by the time they got to the top. She felt a bit sorry for Dipper, but he just grinned at her.  

“You made it!” he celebrated.  

“Your room is way too high up.”  

He raised an eyebrow. “Your room is on the fourth floor of your house.”  

“Your room is the attic! That's the top of your house!”  

“That's not- You know what, never mind. The attic is the best place anyway, apart from maybe Soos's break room. We'll see if he's willing to give it up while you're here. But for tonight it looks like we're having a sleepover in the attic. Now come on, we have to get set up.  

“For what? What's Code Fluffy?”  

“It's love in a blanket!” Mabel said, skipping up behind them with a tray of hot-drinks and other sweet snacks. She went off ahead of them, and they slowly made their way along behind them. It was a good thing that Stan was still up, or all the thumping would have woken him.  

“It's our method of making each other feel better,” he explained further as he helped her along to the room. “Our favourite advice is to get a nice drink, some snacks, bundle up in blankets, cuddle something fluffy, and watch a feel-good movie. So if either of us is upset or not feeling great, we'll call a Code Fluffy.” As he was saying this, he led her over to a bed and helped sit her down on it.  

“Dipper calls them the most. He gets panic attacks,” Mabel said casually.  

“Mabel!”  

“What?”  

“That actually sounds really nice,” she said, stopping them from arguing further.  

“It is. And it really works. Of course, it works better with other people. It relaxes you and makes you happier because when you hug someone, it releases serotonin, dopamine, and oxytocin, which-”  

“Alright, alright, nerd,” Mabel said. “Just go get the blankets, would ya!” Dipper huffed out a sigh, rolled his eyes, and left the room mumbling under his breath. “Right, down to business,” she said matter of factly. She bounced over to the other bed and picked up a pile of stuffed toys from it. “What one do you want?”  

Pacifica blinked at the lineup before her in bewilderment. She hadn't cuddled a stuffed toy since she was six. Her mom had thought they were too childish after that. The next thing she knew, Lily the Llama was gone. “Um... the... rabbit, I guess.”  

“Done. Her name is Daisy.” She handed the white rabbit over to her, a purple felt flower had been stitched on just above one of the ears. Then she began to pick out a few more. “Dipper usually likes Mr Bearington. I'll take Kitty Snufflepants today. And Waddles can have Widdles!”  

“Widdles?”  

“Yeah!” she cried in delight, holding up a stuffed pig. “He's like Waddles, but he's 'widdle'! Dipper won him for me in a crane game.”  

“Oh, okay.” She didn't understand why the pig needed its own toy, but whatever floated the strange girl's boat. She and her brother were being way too nice to her for her to care.  

Quickly she made the decision to divest herself of any uncomfortable clothing while Dipper was out. She unhooked her bra and pulled it out from under her shirt. She also took off her other shoe and sock but decided that it would be easier to leave her jeans on, rather than painfully struggle to get them off and again struggle to put on her night clothes.  

“And now onto the movie,” Mabel cried. She went over to the bed Pacifica was sitting on and pulled a laptop from underneath. It had a blue sticker of a pine tree, just like the one on Dipper's hat. It must be his... which would also make this his bed. That made sense considering the toys, glitter, and Sev'ral Timez posters on the other bed. Mabel tapped a few keys, then frowned. “That's weird.”  

“What?”  

“His password's changed.”  

There came a muffled chuckle, and they both turned to see Dipper staggering back into the room under a big pile of blankets and bedrolls. “I was wondering when you were going to notice.” He dumped the pile on the ground near the window.  

“When did you change it?”  

“Like, three weeks ago or so.”  

“Oh... Well, that's good, I guess. Ooh! Hold on, I bet I can guess the new one...” She sat there a moment, her tongue stuck out in thought. Then her eyes widened, a smile creeping over her face, and she quickly typed something in. It instantly logged her in. “Yes!”  

“Aww, damn it.”  

“How did you do that?” Pacifica asked in amazement.  

“It's easy. Dipper's passwords are things he's obsessed with at the time. It wasn't hard to guess 'journal author'. He's been trying to find clues about him since he found that book.”  

“I really need to think of better passwords.”  

“At least you change yours. I've the same password for three years now,” Pacifica told him.  

“I have to change it. I have a Mabel to attempt to protect it from.” He fluffed up some pillows and blankets, starting to put together a makeshift bed to fit three.  

“Never works,” she grinned. “Okay, here's the movies. What do you want to watch? Pick any, Dipper's okay with all of them.”  

The man in question shrugged. “I'm not picky.”  

“Really? You'll even watch girly chick flicks?”  

“I was raised with Mabel. I'm used to them.”  

“And he just likes them anyway. He even likes Babba! Oof!” She was knocked over when a pillow hit her square in the head. Dipper grinned smugly.  

“Really? Babba's awesome! Have you seen the musical they made that had only their most popular songs? Cheesy as hell to watch, it was good.”  

“We've never actually been to see any musicals,” Mabel told her.  

“Well, we'll have to change that. You have to see Wicked! It's not an option.”  

“Ooh! I've always wanted to do Wicked as like... a play or something!” Mabel said excitedly. “We should totally put on a performance here! I could be Elphaba, and you could be Glinda! You're blonde! And you can hit all the high notes!”  

“And your friendship started out about the same,” Dipper commented.  

“Loathing. Unadulterated loathing...” Pacifica sang, her smile faded. “Yeah, sorry about that.”  

“Ah, you know how it is. Water and bridges and all that. Maybe something about ducks? I don't know. I think there should be ducks somewhere in that saying.”  

“You're thinking of 'water under the bridge' and 'water off a duck's back', Mabel. Though, if you mixed them together you'd get a pretty interesting malaphor.”  

“You mean metaphor.”  

“No, I mean malaphor. The combining of two or more idioms. You know, like 'we'll burn that bridge when we get to it' instead of 'cross that bridge' and 'burning bridges'.”  

“...You're right, he is a nerd,” she said to Mabel.  

“Hey!”  

“What? I never said it's a bad thing. So what, you're smart.”  

“Don't encourage him!” Mabel cried. “His head is already big enough. Literally.”  

“Beats me then. My head is tiny. The only reason I can fit half my hats is because my hair is so thick and boofy! Ooh, hey, how about this?” She turned the screen around to show them her selection.  

“Princess Diaries 2. Heck yeah!”  

“Sure. I'm in.” He gestured to the blankets. “Also, I've made the bed.” To be honest, it looked more like a giant nest of pillows and blankets. They were a little old looking for her liking, but it did look comfy.  

“I call middle!” Mabel shouted, scrambling over. She snuggled down under the top layer of blankets, putting the laptop on her lap.  

“Here.”  

Dipper held out his hand to her, and once more he helped her walk over to the bed. He sat her down beside Mabel, and she was able to tuck herself in. It would be a close fit for the three of the of them. She wasn't really sure how she felt about that. She wasn't used to it. At her sleepovers, her friends would all get their own double bed. Dipper grabbed the tray of snacks and sat them down beside her, then he took his place on the other side of his sister. As soon as he was settled in, Waddles came trotting over with the stuffed pig in his mouth. With a soft oink, he plopped himself down with his head resting on Dipper's lap. She passed out the hot chocolates, which were somehow still hot, and took a sip of her own. The top was completely coated in melted marshmallow. It was so sweet but really good.  

“Alright, that's the hot drinks and snacks, the blankets, the fluffy things, and the movie. So, without further ado, let the Code Fluffy commence!” Dramatically she hit the play button, and the movie started.  

They all smiled and settled back to watch the movie. Pacifica had seen it many times, but it was the kind of movie that you could still watch many times more and still want to watch it again. It was so cute, and Julie Andrews was a goddess!  

Their drinks were all gone by the time Mia had intentionally stomped on Nick's foot. But they continued to eat the chocolate, and other sweets as the movie went on. Dipper even got up to grab the candy she'd told him was in her bag. She found herself slowly leaning into Mabel to get a better view. Her eyes were starting to become heavy, and she just gave in, leaning on the girl in something similar to a cuddle. It actually felt... kind of nice. When it got to the scene where the Queen showed Mia her new room, Mabel gasped in wonder, despite how many times she'd already seen it.  

“I'm just imagining that that's what your wardrobe is like,” she said. “Is that what your wardrobe is like?”  

“Pfft! Don't be ridiculous,” she told her. “I don't have crown jewels in my wardrobe.” Mabel laughed, and she smiled in reply. It wasn't quite true, her wardrobe was way smaller than that... though, it was still a rather large walk-in wardrobe with mirrors and everything. Still, that was irrelevant.  

As the movie continued, her eyes grew heavier and heavier. She would catch herself with her eyes closed for too long and jolt herself awake. She finally gave in sometime around the engagement slumber party. The last thing she remembered was hearing Julie Andrews and Raven singing together. At one point she was woken up by Mabel laughing at Mia exclaiming that she was a moose, but sleep quickly pulled her back under again. She was exhausted. And this was nice. This was very, very nice...  

      By the time the movie was finished, Mabel was pretty tired. She yawned loudly, giving a stretch. It was a little awkward with the other two leaning on her so heavily. She looked at her brother and new friend to find that they were both asleep. Waddles looked up at her and gave a soft oink.  

“Yep, they're totally out to it,” she whispered to him. “Come on, let’s get to bed.”  

Carefully, she extracted herself from between the two of them. She closed the laptop and put it back under Dipper’s bed, and cleared away all cups and trash. She considered waking up Dipper to get him back in his own bed but decided against it. She knew how hard it was to wake him up, and how he'd react. And considering the fact he'd only just fallen asleep, it was probably best to let him sleep.  

Waddles oinked again. “What? It's not like they're cuddling or anything. They're on opposite sides of the nest! They can complain about it in the morning. I'm too tired to deal with Dipper.”  

She shuffled over to the lights and flicked them off, before going back over to her bed and curling in. She held on to Kitty Snufflepants, and not long after, Waddles jumped up to his usual spot on the bed. Soon, she was as fast asleep as the other two.    

                           Mabel groaned as sunlight shone in her face, dragging her out of her wonderful slumber.  

“Ugh, stupid sun!” she grumbled. She rolled over, having to push Waddles back on the other side of the bed, so she didn't fall off, and looked at the clock. 11am. Geez, she'd slept in! Well, she had been up to like, 6am, so it wasn't that bad really.  

Yawning, she jumped out of bed and started gathering her clothes for the day. She was confused by Dippers empty bed for a moment until she remembered that she'd left him down on the floor last night. She looked over towards the nest and had to stifle a giggle.  

Lying curled up in the middle of the nest of pillows, Dipper and Pacifica were snuggled up to each other. Their stuffed animals had been abandoned at some time in the night, as had half the blankets. One of Dipper’s arms was cushioning Pacifica's head, his other was wrapped around her waist. Pacifica seemed even more tangled up than he was. One of her arms was stretched up above his head, her fingers twisted in his curls, the other arm was flung over the arm that was holding her, and her leg had hooked itself up over his waist.  

Huh. Who knew that they were both cuddlers? They... actually looked... kind of cute.  

Silently she grabbed her phone and took a picture of them. “Hehe,” she giggled. “Blackmail.”  

Then quietly as she could, she snuck out. Those two deserved their sleep.  

      Pacifica had been drifting in and out of dreams for a while. Strange dreams that she couldn't recall. And she was too tired to remember any of the moments shed woken up either. This time she blinked at the hazy light around her. Morning.  

There was something in front of her, a pink and brown blur. And she was holding onto something. What was that strange shape in front of her? She blinked a few more times, trying to focus.  

“Dipper?” she mumbled.  

“Mmm,” he replied, still half asleep.  

“No, dipper. On your head.” Lazily, her hand attempted to point, but it didn't really move far before flopping back around his body, her eyes drifting shut again.  

“Yeah. Wait, what?” His eyes flew open, and he looked about cautiously. No one else was in the room. Just him and Pacifica... cuddling. “Uhh...” He looked back down at the girl in his arms. She seemed to have fallen asleep again.  

Hmm... she looked rather cute when she was sleeping. No! No, he was not having any thoughts along those lines when they were cuddling like – like, well, a couple. Nope!  

Carefully he began to extract himself from their human tangle, taking her arm from around him and gently placing it in close to her body. She muttered something when he tried to de-tangle their legs, but when he looked up at her, he found she was still asleep.  

Once he was free he let out a sigh of relief, then he grabbed his clothes for the day and his hat and went off to have a shower. Erm... he better make that a cold one.  

 EXW PRQVWHUV RI WKH GHHS DUH VXUH WR EH IHDUHG

Author Note:

To be honest, I didn't think this much would take up an entire chapter. But oh well, just means there'll be more chapters later. Also, Code Fluffy is a real thing for me. I do this often when I feel down, usually watching Disney films and cuddling my partner or best friend. It's always my advice for people who aren't having a good day. And I always get told that it made them feel a little better. So, if you ever feel horrible or anxious, Code Fluffy. It works. Also, nests are great. Me and my friend used to make these outside in summer on my veranda (back when we lived in a double story house), usually with candles and fairy lights. Anyway, that's all for now. Bye!

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[lunaschild2016]

Take Your Time - Part 6

Rating: M (Swearing, smut, suggested violence and abuse)

Family isn’t always defined by blood and the strongest of ties can come from the most unexpected places. But could you risk losing that family when the love changes? What do you do when you find your soulmate at the age of sixteen? What if that soulmate is only nine? Sometimes all you can do…is take your time. Eric/OC AU No War, No Divergents

@kenzieam @jaihardy @jojuarez26 @iammarylastar@beautifulramblingbrains @badassbaker @meganbee15

A/N: This entire thing was literally written in a fever delirium and on strong cold meds. Apparently my smut levels rise when I am delirious.

Achievement unlocked: Smut

Level Advanced to: A Little Less Of A Rank Novice from Rank Novice

Perk Gained: Only 75% Chance of head exploding when reading or writing smut.

Anything ITALIC will be a flashback, memory or internal conversation.

********************************************************************************************************************************************************************************************************

LACEY

School was out again. It was the hardest time of the year for Lacey.

During school she could make sure that Wade and she ate at least two meals a day. She was even able to pilfer away enough food at school for a somewhat dinner for Wade. Without school though she had nothing.

She didn’t dare go to try and buy food again. Her father hadn’t forgotten his threat and as she turned ten he was eyeing her more often now. Lacey thought that maybe her mother sensed it. Maybe she cared after all because when she had been around she seemed to try to draw her father’s attention elsewhere at times.

It hadn’t taken long for Lacey to come up with a plan, she had just had to execute it and make sure that it was kept quiet. It helped that she had one friend that she could trust. A friend whose mother worked in the kitchens.

She made a deal with Mabel, the mother of her friend. Twice a day she could make her way to the dining hall and they would give her a box of food. In the mornings she would be there before the kitchen opened and help with whatever tasks they needed. This usually got her some breakfast and in turn that made it breakfast for Wade.

He always came first. Sometimes there was food for them both but most times it all went to Wade. He was a growing boy and going through a growth spurt. She always told him she had already eaten and to eat what he could. She never once let on that she was eating the scraps he didn’t eat or just the scraps in the morning as she took out the trash or helped to clean up.

Time went on and she did the best she could.

She felt things were working out well. She was keeping it from Henley with the help of Wade because he was happy and healthy. He would merrily tell their big sister he was eating well when they popped in for a visit to the clinic. She was busy and stressed with how much work she was having to do as well as training for her new job. Since she wasn’t living at home it was easy to hide and keep her from stressing more.

Henley had at first been insistent she come back home and live there but that idea scared Lacey too much. It put her sister in her father’s reaches and while he might be slightly hesitant to use Lacey right now because of her age, she had no illusions he would do the same for Henley any more. So she had reassured her sister that things were so much better. That because her parents were never there they were much better off now.

It was true that their mother wasn’t around at all anymore and their father made less and less appearances.

Still she avoided a certain person altogether to keep her secrets. He was too all seeing and would know with just a look. Eric had that ability, to just know when she was up to something or hiding something. He had been busy with leader training so she had been able to keep out of sight and go under his radar.

Or so she thought.

One morning she came back from doing her routine in the kitchen to find Eric standing in the kitchen, leaning against the counter and glowering at nothing and everything. His arms were crossed over his chest and his eyebrow that now sported two dermal piercings was raised. There were tattoos on his forearms that he said were marks of his journey when she had questioned him about them, but she thought he used them to add to his whole mystery and aura. He had been intimidating before but now he seemed to just ooze it. He also wasn’t afraid to use that at all but seemed to lose that factor around her.

Unless he was angry about something with her or trying to reprimand her. Which wasn’t often.

It looked like this morning was going to be one of those rare times.

She could only sigh and shake her head while she held her finger up to her lips. She had a bag of muffins and water for Wade to eat. So she went to his room and woke him up like normal. After she got him ready for the day and settled with his breakfast she went back to the kitchen and sat at the table.

“Were you ever going to tell me?” He asked coldly and full of accusation.

Lacey could only shrug but he already knew the answer.

Eric sighed heavily and shook his head as he sat down too. “It stops now, Lacey. This is what family does, we help each other. You, Wade and Henley are my family now. So let me help.”

There was no room for argument in his tone, it was a command as always. This time it didn’t set her dander up and wanting to rebel. She had Wade to think about and she knew they couldn’t continue like they were.

“What did you have in mind?” Lacey asked calmly and as if they were entering negotiations. Which they were and she knew Eric saw it too.

He studied her for a long time before he answered. “First, we have to help Henley out. We both know she is working extra hard to become a full nurse in the clinic. The training for that is insane but on top of that they still need her to work regular shifts. She has felt bad about this Lacey and asked me to do her a favor. She would like if I was able to keep you guys company for a few nights and do a dinner. She mentioned that she had said that was the condition she placed on her taking the apartment with Deacon, right?”

Lacey narrowed her eyes and tried to pick up any lies in his words. She couldn’t and it was true. That was the condition Henley herself had made the day she took the apartment. That they come over to her new place and she make dinner for them at least twice a week.

“Yes.” Lacey replied with a nod causing Eric to smirk briefly before he wiped it away.

“So twice a week I take over those dinners. You two will come over to my apartment and I will make us all something to eat. School starts again soon so I will pick you guys up from the train drop after you get out of school and we can go from there.” Eric said casually and with a shrug.

She gave this thought but couldn't find anything wrong with it. In fact, having Eric around might help her with getting Wade to do his homework. He looked up to Eric and never stopped asking about him.

“Ok. That sounds good.” She agreed with a small smile.

Eric rewarded her with one of his own and that feeling of warmth and safety flooded her again. Then he got serious and rubbed his chin.

“Now that is out of the way.” He mumbled before he cleared his throat. “I am going to take you shopping twice a week as well. We will get groceries that will last you for the days until I take you again and repeat. You have a microwave here so if you want to do frozen meals we can do that…”

“I know how to cook, Eric. I can make all kinds of things.” Lacey replied stiffly and hurt that he would think she wasn’t capable of taking care of herself or Wade.

He looked at her and smiled softly. “I didn’t say you couldn’t, Lace. I am just trying to figure things out with you. Make a plan. It is better to go into things with a plan right?”

Lacey sniffed because she recognized the tactic he was using. She used it on Wade all the time. She still felt her anger lessening though and found herself agreeing.

“Good. So why don’t you tell me what you can make and what Wade likes to eat. Then we can figure things out from there. That will also help me to figure out what I will need for our dinners. If you want to Lacey, I can also teach you how to make other things.”

Just like that he had her.

It wasn’t just that he was addressing her as an adult but that he was willing to help her take better care of her family. The idea of Eric teaching her something, anything, also appealed to her for some reason.

But Lacey wasn’t just going to go along with things without her conditions. She wasn’t going to take handouts. She believed in working for what she had. Her rationale was that everyone played a role in Dauntless and were compensated for that role in various ways.

She said as much to Eric who argued that it was expected the adults take care of the dependents. She wouldn’t be swayed though. The compromise was that she would clean his apartment once every week. He wouldn’t let her talk him into anymore than that.

Even though they only said once a week for cleaning and two dinners a week, Lacey and Wade seemed to always find themselves at Eric’s apartment. He would show up in the mornings at times and have a breakfast with them, then come up with some reason why they should go to his apartment.

Wade loved it there with the growing book collection Eric seemed to be building as the days and weeks passed. When school started the two dinners a week turned into almost all week as Eric was almost always there waiting for them to get out of school and take him to his apartment.

Sometimes he couldn’t stay and would make sure they were settled before would head back to work or some other place.

Eric had said they were family and she truly felt that way but she also was unsure of how she felt about him. She just knew that Eric had quickly become one of the most important people in her life.

That would only continue to grow as time went on.

___________________________________________________________________________

She was being called into the principal’s office. For what she didn’t know but a feeling of unease was settling in her stomach.

She was let into the office to see the Principal sitting behind his desk and Eric sitting on the other side of it looking like his usual intimidating and cold self.

Principal Malcolm motioned for her to come further in and have a seat while at the same time Eric must have given him some non verbal signal to leave. The man stood immediately and excused himself.

With a frown, Lacey took the chair beside Eric and faced him.

“Eric, are you ok?” Lacey got out in a whisper.

As soon as the door had shut behind the school official, Eric had lost the cold indifference and instead looked pained. He leaned forward, putting his elbows on his knees and was looking at his hands that he clasped together and fiddled with them.

Eric didn’t answer her question but asked one of his own in a soft tone. “Do you trust me, Lacey?”

This only caused her frown to deepen. At the surprise of the question but also of him even asking it when he should already know the answer.

“Of course.” She replied without any hesitation.

He let out a breath and reached forward to take her hands in his. “You know I would never do anything to hurt you or let anyone hurt you, right?” There was a slight desperate tone to the question.

“Eric, what is going on because you are worrying me. Are you ok?” She asked one more time.

He squeezed her hands and gave a small tight smile. “I’m fine. Don’t worry about me. Lacey….I need to tell you something that will be hard to hear. You might even blame me and I understand if you do.”

“Eric…” she started out but he stopped her with a look. She nodded for him to go ahead that she wouldn't interrupt him again.

“When I noticed there was something wrong a few months back I started to investigate, not only what you were doing with the kitchen staff, but also your parents. You mentioned that you hadn't seen your mom at all and your dad much less often, so I looked into that. Lacey, you have to know that it would have happened no matter what. No matter how capable you are of taking care of yourself and Wade, it is still their responsibility to provide for and take care of dependents. But they didn't and their abandonment of you guys couldn't just be overlooked.”

He stopped and looked to her for understanding. She nodded and spoke slowly, still not understanding why he was here and what he was getting at. “Okay. I can understand that.”

Eric nodded as if already expected her to get that much. “During the investigation we learned that your mom hadn't been seen in a long time. Not even her familiar haunts. We tracked your father down and brought him for questioning about that but also about his treatment of his kids. During my questioning, because I took this on personally, I found out that…” he stopped and took a breath “Your dad confessed to killing your mom, Lace.”

Lacey felt as if the wind was knocked out of her; she went into shock. Stunned, her mouth dropped open and she sat motionless otherwise. Her silence or expression must have been too much for Eric to handle because she registered she was suddenly being wrapped up in his arms and held against his chest.

He ran a hand down her hair and back in a soothing and stroking manner as his lips pressed to the temple of her head. “I'm sorry, sweetheart.” He whispered against her skin.

Her hands had moved to clutch at his jacket, to steady herself and she let out a shaky breath.

So many emotions were colliding inside of her but none of them were truly grief.

Was she surprised at this development? Not really. They had always been violent to each other.

Once Lacey had confronted her mother and asked how she could be with someone that treated her like that. Her mom’s reply had stuck with her and would stick with her for years to come and might have been part of the reason she waited so long to lose her virginity.

“Better get used to it, baby girl. We are Dauntless here. We fuck hard and fight even harder. Don't expect any different from the men you end up with here, probably not even if you transfer. Unless you're smart and don't trust your heart to anyone.” The woman had replied bitterly.

There had always been threats tossed around between the two of them, no matter that minutes later they would also turn the physical altercations to just as violent sex.

“Talk to me, Lacey.” Eric coaxed her after she had sat in silence digesting everything.

Only when a sudden and panic inducing thought struck her did she feel any kind of pain and grief, tears filled her eyes at it. “What's going to happen to us? Is Wade going to be taken away from me?” She gasped out, clinging tighter to him and her eyes wide as she looked at him.

Eric's forehead crinkled and he started to shake his head violently. “No one is taking you away from me, Lacey; neither of you. If I have to, I will become your guardians myself to keep that from happening.” He growled out and gripped her a little tighter with a scowl on his face, like someone was there trying to pull her from him at that moment.

He took deep steadying breaths before he continued while reaching up a hand and brushing her tears away. “Until then you will stay at Henley’s. What I am hoping for and already talked with her about, is guardianship passing to her and the two of you going to live with her and Deacon.”

She sagged in relief and almost melted into his arms at that. She should have known he would have a plan; he always had a plan.

He was still frowning and looking at her searchingly. Then his words from the start played back for her. “I don't blame you, Eric. You did your job but also wanted to protect us. How could I blame you?”

He shrugged but she could tell he was relieved at her words. “Because I'm the one that arrested him. I'm the one that questioned him and because of that I am the one taking him away from you.”

Lacey smiled sadly at him and thought that if he only knew he is also the one that probably saved her from a gruesome fate. But that was a secret she would carry alone.

“Is it wrong of me to not feel anything but maybe relief they are gone, Eric?” She asked with her mouth turning down into a frown.

He resumed his stroking of her hair and shook his head while letting out a breath. “No Lace, it isn't wrong at all. Maybe someday soon I can let you talk to someone I know that might have an idea of what you went through, are going through. It will up be to him if he wants to share his story but I think he might if it will help you.”

She nodded but didn't reply to that. She had another thought. “We need to tell Wade.”

He nodded as well. “We are going to go together and get him from his side of the school then we will head back home. Deacon and Henley are already waiting for us there and we will talk to him as a family.”

The thought of that and Eric's care made her smile.

That is what they had done.

Eric took her hand in his and led her out of the office where they followed the principal to Wade’s classroom. Then when Wade was with them, he led them both to a waiting transport instead of the train. It was to Eric's apartment they went where her sister and Deacon were waiting just like promised.

Wade did cry a little for the loss of his parents. But Lacey thought it was more the idea of them and not them really. He was also scared and just as worried as what would happen. All three of the older Dauntless set to reassure them both that they would never be separated and never taken from the family.

Eric must have had some hand in how quickly things were handled because in less than a week Henley was officially made their guardian and they were also moved into another apartment, bigger to accommodate them all now that she had also married Deacon too.

She was sure that was Eric's doing as well because she and Wade never set foot back in their old apartment again. What belongings they did have were moved for them and they went straight from staying with Henley at her apartment to the new one they would now start over in.

In all the tangled emotions Lacey had from that day one of them stood out and would take her years to sort out. The memory of being in Eric's arms and how his embrace had felt different from any shared with her brother or sister.

One thing was for sure on that day for Lacey at least. She knew she loved Eric. It would be another few years before she knew what kind of love it really was.

——---------------------------------------------------------------------

Once again, but several years later, Lacey found herself huddled in a corner of her darkened room. Sobs wracked her thirteen year old body until her face was puffy, her eyes were almost swollen shut and her voice was all but gone from crying so hard.

She heard the front door open and closing in the distance and knew before she heard the steps who it would be. It wasn't just because she knew Henley and Deacon had been rushed away with Wade.

No, she knew because she always knew it was him. She could tell you the exact moment he came near without being close to her or in the same room. She didn't understand how she knew or why. She just always did.

He seemed to have the same sense because he didn't even need to flick on a light to know she was in her room and against the wall, her back pressed against the corner. He moved silently and softly to her side. He just as gently lifted her in his arms at the same time he slid down in the position she was just in, cradling her in his lap.

Neither spoke, he just held her.

Finally she broke the silence and her tears broke free again. “What if loose him, Eric? What if they can't make him better?”

His arms circled around her tighter and he shook his head in the dark against the top of her head. “That isn't going to happen, Lacey. I told you I will always protect you both and I will. Don't think like that, sweetheart. You know I came from Erudite, so I know what they are capable of. I promise you I am making sure he gets the best possible treatment and medicine. Whatever it takes.”

She nodded but it didn't stop the tears or her shaking.

It had all happened so fast.

Wade had come home from school and wasn't his normal energetic self. But he was going through another growth spell and Lacey had been through those before with him. He had felt only a little hot so she gave him some fever reducer and water then made sure he was tucked into bed to rest.

Henley was at work and not due to get home for another hour or so and Deacon usually followed soon after. She started on dinner and an hour later went to check on him.

She had found him a tangled mess in sheets but having fallen off the bed and drenched with sweat. His fever raged and she immediately knew something wasn't right. She didn't have a phone and did the only thing she could think of doing, she ran to her sister and the clinic. She ran faster than she ever thought possible, shoving people out of the way if needed.

One look and Henley knew something was wrong. Lacey had gasped out what she knew and the staff jumped on it. But they made Lacey stay back, even having someone hold her when she screamed and fought her way to try and go with her sister and the others.

It seemed to take hours for Wade to be rushed in and they still didn't let her go to him. There was a flurry of activity before, once again, there was rushing. Only this time it was Wade being taken from Dauntless completely.

Henley had time to barely tell her that he needed surgery to remove his appendix. Lacey had to stay behind until someone could bring her to the Med Center. She was told to wait in the clinic but as the hour went by she just couldn't anymore.

She didn't feel safe. Felt too exposed and guilty for not being able to do anything for her brother. Along with questions of what if she had taken him to Henley right away bombarding her.

It was when the thought of losing Wade hit her that she went running. She wanted to go to where she always felt safe and protected. The place that had become her sanctuary. It was impossible though so she went to the only other place she could get that feeling now.

Lacey wasn't sure how long she sat there in the dark of her room. It had to have been a few hours at least. She wondered if Eric had come straight from the clinic where she was supposed to wait or here to find her?

“I called the clinic staff while I was en route back from Erudite and the meeting. I left as soon as I got the word and knew I had to get to you. They told me you had run away. At first, I was sure you would be at my apartment but then I remembered you don't have a key. I knew you would be here if you couldn't go there.” Eric replied in a soft whisper against her hair.

She hadn't meant to speak her thoughts aloud. She could swear she didn't. He had a way of knowing her that stunned her sometimes.

His words and his presence, along with the way he moved his strong hands up and down her back in soothing motions, sent warmth through her. She took in a deep breath and inhaled his scent. It was one she had come to associate with strength and security now. Mint and sandalwood. The beat of his heart under her cheek calmed the tears that had started to ebb.

Then Lacey felt the first stirrings of the change. She noticed that the warmth she felt being in his arms was different. It was a buzzing, fluttering kind of warmth that was making her stomach do weird things. The feel of his lips pressing to the top of her head or at her temple had her eyes fluttering closed and a longing for something else. For those lips somewhere else. The scent of his cologne and the underlying scent of Eric started to make her feel lightheaded and almost dizzy.

Lacey let out a small sound of distress and Eric tightened his arms around her, bringing her even closer where the sheer size of him engulfed her.

“I've got you, Lace. I'm not letting go.” She couldn't see his face but she heard the tone. Deep and full of emotion. She also thought there might be a tinge of confusion.

She didn't respond but just nodded into his chest. He held her for long minutes. Then the worry for Wade and need to see him started to push away all the new found confusion and feelings.

Eric stood them up and then took her to Erudite. He kept his promise too, he didn't let go of her hand once. Not until Henley came rushing out and found them to tell her Wade was going to be ok.

Her sister pulled her in her arms and hugged her tightly. A nurse came out and announced that the family could see him now. And then without thought, all of them made their way in.

It was then that the first pangs and shackles of guilt would find their way to Lacey. Becoming the first of links that would prevent her from ever seeking to explore the feelings she was beginning to have for Eric.

Eric was her family. Her brother. He may not share the same blood with her and her two siblings but if she had learned anything over the last few years it was that blood didn't always make for family.

Shame tinged her thoughts. The shame of a young teenage girl for having a crush on someone she could never have.

It was also the first time she felt her heartbreaking because of Eric. It wouldn't be the last.

[videogamelover99]

Waking Days Ch. 2 - Rift

A/N: Finally, after a two month hiatus! To be honest, this chapter was a lot more difficult to write, mostly because there’s been, ahem, other fandoms that’ve grabbed my attention as of late. Also the content. As you may have noticed, I’m a lot more into character interaction than any real plot. Plot just helps give more character interaction, in my opinion, so writing a chapter that’s mostly plot and little character development is hard. That’s it. That’s my excuse. 

hopefully though, this chapter would be worth the wait. As usual, I take any questions you guys wanna ask about the state of the fic, if anybody’s worried or confused or just wants to gush with me about fandom. 

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

Thirty years took a great toll on his memories, but Ford still remembered this place. Dimension 52 rested in the back of his mind, even as he fled from one universe to another, meeting hundreds of people, places, and searching frantically for a concrete way of stopping Bill. It was one of the few worlds he knew that truly meant him no harm, where his stay wasn’t stained with loss and terror and Bill’s chaos. Years of voyaging had left his memory of this place faded and washed out like a watercolor painting, and remembering little details grew harder and harder, but as Stanford set foot into the temple, it was like he hadn’t even left.

One wouldn’t call the temple of Jheselbraum the Unswerving messy. It was cluttered, yes. There were jars and bottles of various herbs and alien substances on top of books and papers, something that closely resembled a simple chalkboard hidden behind a shelf, notes and equations written down on it in several different languages, the handwriting quick but precise. A stack of long unused books and scrolls were covered up with a tapestry of what looked like a pink, frilly amphibian. It was cramped and a bit overzealous, but in no way chaotic. There was a system, where everything had its place, and while Stanford could not even begin to understand what it was, the owner certainly could. Who was now standing in front of the already mentioned tapestry, regarding the two men.

“Stanford!” the woman smiled in greeting, all seven of her eyes crinkling upwards. “I’m so glad you’ve made it.” she then turned to Stan, something almost teasing in her gaze. “And Stanley, you’re even wearing pants. I’m flattered.”

Stan scowled at the floor, and Ford didn’t miss the way his face reddened in embarrassment. “Yeah, yeah, try to embarrass me some more, would ya?”

…

Mabel walked through the door, only to trip on a huge encyclopedia and almost fall flat on her face. The girl caught herself in time on the doorframe, casting a puzzled look on the rest of the attic. Books and papers were scattered around the room, some mathematics textbooks and some atlases, as well as a whole collection of chewed up pens. Uh oh, nerd alert.

“Broski? You there?”

Dipper was sitting on the edge of his bed, devouting another poor writing utensil. He was holding one of the moleskine notebooks the Grunkles sent him for christmas, the ones with the mysterious vibe that unsurprisingly matched Grunkle Ford’s old journals. Around him was a nest of crumpled up, ink-stained papers.

“No, no, that can’t be it...Maybe Vigenere…?”

Mabel rolled her eyes at her brother’s muttering, striding up to him and waving in front of his face. “Hellloooo? Earth to Dipperrr? Nerd-bro, come in!”

Dipper pushed her hand out of the way, annoyed glare already forming on his face. “Mabel! Can’t you see I’m-” His voice died in his throat at his twin’s startled face, voice immediately softening. “Sorry, I didn’t mean it. I just- Bill and his stupid rotten tricks!” The teen threw the notebook on the floor, coming up to rub his face with both hands. “I’ve been at it for hours and I still don’t know if it was a joke or not.”

Mabel carefully picked up the notebook, turning it over to look at the crumpled pages.

16°-18°, < 24°

“Did Bill give this to you?”

Dipper briefly uncovered his face to stare accusingly at the numbers. “More like threw it over his shoulder. And I still don’t get it, is it some sort of code? I tried longitude and latitude, but that leads to nowhere.” The younger twin buried his face in his knees, letting out a frustrated noise. “Bill with his stupid riddles and tricks. It probably doesn’t even mean anything, and he’s just laughing at me chasing some pointless garbage.”

“Hmm.” Mabel flipped the notebook upside down, then to the side, but no grand breakthrough seemed to hit her. “Well, you wanna know what I think?”

“That I should take a break?”

“Wow, see, twin telepathy!” the girl grinned, closing the moleskine and putting it back on the table. “You know what we should do? Go to town and get some food, that’s what. We haven’t been to Greasy’s in like, forever! And you can’t live off an ink diet, Bro-bro, trust me, I’ve tried.” The girl tugged Dipper to his feet, the other twin  already smiling awkwardly. “And hey, who knows, maybe you’ll get some brilliant strike of genius afterwards!”

“Yeah,” the boy looked away, then reached for Wendy’s hunter hat, the one that was hanging dejectedly on the edge of the bed. “Yeah, I guess you’re right.”

“I know I’m right! I’m right most of the time, after all.” Mabel grabbed him by the arm, the kids giggling as they rushed down the steps, Mabel skipping every other one and almost sending both of them crashing down.

“Mabel, be careful!”

“Hey, it’s not like we-” Mabel froze, casting her eyes toward the gift shop, where a familiar nasally voice spouted its daily dose of rants and nihilism. Though it wasn’t that voice that got her attention, despite its desperate effort to do so. No, it was the other voice, the one it seemed to be arguing with. “Oh no, not him.”

Dipper frowned. “Is that Gideon?”

“Right okay, we can still use the back door. Or climb out the window.” The teen proceeded to do just that, already half-way up the windowsill.

“Come on, Mabel! You know he’s at least trying! The least you could do is give him a concrete ‘no’.” Dipper, sounding uncharacteristically sympathetic, tugged on his sister’s leg. “And the door’s right there.”

She froze, staring at the far side of the room, where, indeed, was the location of the front door. “Whatever, it’s more dramatic if I-”

“Mabel.”

“He kept sending me those creepy letters back home! You don’t understand, he perfumed all of them!”

“Mabel.”

“And, I mean, I love chocolate, but I’m pretty sure those had some serious love potion magic in them, they were even sparkly-”

“Mabel.”

“OKAY, FINE!” Mabel yelled loud enough for the whole Shack to hear, the walls echoing a little at her outburst. The twins froze, an awkward silence falling on them both. Suddenly, the voice that Mabel had dreaded so much to hear burst through the hallway. “Mabel, my sweet, is that you?”

The girl sighed, her voice a lot softer than before. “Fine, I’ll go talk to him. Happy?”

“Sugar Pie, are you there? I was just telling this bumbling little fool that-”

“You sure you wanna use that insult specifically, shortstack?”

“How dare-”

Mabel burst through the door, trying to look as haughty as possible. Dipper followed closely behind, awkwardly casting his eyes on the scene. Gideon was busy having a death stare with Bill, the latter having a definite advantage in height while the former looked a lot more alive on his feet. Wendy leaned over the cash register, looking bored as she watched the two bicker at each other, chewing what looked like a total of 5 slices of gum. There was no one in the giftshop, which wasn’t unusual being this close to closing hour. What else wasn’t unusual was the look of utter adoration that boomed on Gideon’s face the moment his eyes caught Mabel’s. “Mabel my Sweet! It’s so nice to see you. You know, your Grunkle Stanley is so generous to allow even cretins like these,” the cast a thumb at Bill, who looked more and more livid by the second, “To work here! Must be a Pines thing, such kind, kind people, yes…”

“Laying it on a bit thick there, huh, pal?”

“Silence, peasant!” Gideon snapped, “I will not be insulted by someone with an employee name tag!”

“Are you sure I can’t drop-kick him?” the demon mock-whispered to Wendy, who shrugged apathetically.

“If you wanna face those goonies he’s got by the door then go for it, dude.”

Said goonies were leaning on both sides of the door frame, both looking like they could lift up a whole truck, both bored as hell.

Dipper shuffled awkwardly to stand next to Wendy, while Mabel came up to Gideon, her face set in an accepting frown. “Hi, Gideon.” The ten-year-old smiled, reaching for a hug. The girl skillfully avoided it, reaching out instead to shake his hand. She grimaced at how sweaty it was, wiping it off behind her back. “Uh, can you maybe call off your, uh, friends?”

Gideon nodded eagerly, seeming dazed. “Of course, of course.” He snapped his fingers, and the three tattooed bulky dudes disappeared out the door, the friendly ding following suit.

Bill seemed to look a lot more eager. “Great, now can I drop-kick him?”

“No, Bill,” Mabel took a deep breath, backing away slightly at Gideon’s invasive stance. “No, you can’t.”

The lanky man raised an eyebrow. “Really, because it looks like I’d be doing ya a fav-”

“Bill Cipher??”

Mabel didn’t think there were enough question marks and exclamation points to properly convey the fortune-teller’s surprise. Completely forgetting any plan of wooing her, the boy’s beady little eyes fixing themselves on the man in question. A small grin spread across his face, and Bill’s eyes narrowed, as if daring him to say something. And say something he did. “Oh, my stars! If it isn’t Bill Cipher himself! Though I admit, you are looking a bit different these days. Though I feel like you’re lacking something. Say, a sailor suit?”

“Still mad about that one, huh, kid?”

Wendy snorted through her gum, seemingly at the mental image of Bill in a sailor suit. “Welp, time to close. I’m going home. You guys take care of these two disasters.” The red-head locked up the cash register and left, shooting the twins a parting wave as she did. It was kind of startling, how easily the 16-year-old accepted that the guy that turned all of her family into stone last year was now hanging around the Shack, but Mabel supposed she was dealing in her own way. Cool on the outside, maybe having a mental crisis on the inside. If anything, she could relate. Wendy had accepted Bill the same way you accept getting gum stuck in your hair: irritating and uncomfortable, but hard to get out.

Now that the teen had left, Gideon seemed to have gathered more courage. He turned to Mabel once again, clearing his throat and straightening his tie. “Now, I know you’ve only just recently arrived in town, but I was wondering if you could-”

“Uh, actually,” Mabel looked away, shifting from side to side, “Me and Dipper already had something planned. Sorry to burst your bubble.”

“Oh, that’s-” The plastered smile on the boy’s face twitched, like it was hard for him to keep it on, “Wonderful. Tell me all about it when you get back, okay?”

The girl sighed his overly-hopeful tone, not being able to stay cold after hearing it. “Sure, okay.”

Gideon kept smiling at her, seeming to expect something. Dipper cleared his throat, saving her from another awkward moment. “Uh, you kinda have to leave, man. We’re closed.”

“Oh right! Of course, of course.” the boy’s overly-gelled head turned to Bill, who’s been smugly quiet the whole time. “Doesn’t he have to leave as well?”

“He’s living with us, actually. Long story.”

“I...see…” Gideon’s eye twitched at that news. Still, a forceful smile stretched on his face, and he clasped Mabel’s hand in his own. “It’s been a pleasure seeing you again, my queen.”

“Uh, thanks, Gideon, you...really don’t have to.” Mabel retrieved her hand, quickly hiding it in her sleeve.

“But I want to.” He beamed at her proudly. Behind him, Bill put his hands around his neck in an over-the-top choking gesture, making the girl snort quietly through her nose.

“Bye, Gideon.”

“Bye, bye, Sugar Plum!” Gideon retreated, waving at Mabel as he swung open the door, the two goons he had outside picking him up and hosting him on their shoulders. The door swung closed with a loud squeak, and the twins let out a shared breath of relief.

“Man,” Dipper shook his head, “And I thought he’d be, y’know, better after the whole redemption biz. I think he just got more creepy.”

Mabel nodded, wincing as Gideon waved at her from the window. “After all that, I think I prefer ‘Shooting Star’.”

She blinked as Bill made a strange noise from behind, almost forgetting that he was still there in the first place. It was weird, how easily she got used to his overwhelming presence. Like someone placed a pack of dynamite in the corner and everyone just accepted it. “Hey, Bill?”

“What.” The demon scowled, already retreating into the house.

“Do you wanna, you know, come with us? To Greasy’s?”

Bill stared. Dipper stared. And Mabel quickly wondered what on earth possessed her to say that. “On second thought-”

“Yeah.”

“Definitely not.” Dipper piped in, looking like he’d just dodged a bullet.

“Wow, I wonder what part of ‘getting along with the guys whose town I completely trashed last time’ is a good idea.” Bill continued, looking annoyed and tired, “Sorry, kid, getting lynched by an enraged mob isn’t something I’m looking forward to in this lifetime.”

“Well, now you’re just overreacting.”

“Yes.” The demon deadpanned, leaving the shop with an air of finality.

“I don’t get it.” Mabel frowned, “He was fine with the shopping trip.”

Dipper shrugged, “There aren’t many people there that we specifically know, Mabel.” the boy tugged on her shoulder. “Come on, let’s go get food.”

...

Getting food was the easy part. Lazy Susan greeted them with open arms, insisting that the meal was on the house. “Now that you two sweethearts are back, it’s only fair if I treat ya to something.” The woman left, spilling coffee everywhere as she did, and if there was one thing Dipper could think of that came out good from Weirdmaggedon, it was the reputation their family got because of it. Gee thanks, Bill.

Mabel was in the process of shoveling as many pancakes in her mouth as it was physically possible, finishing it off with strawberries and syrup. “I could get used to this.” She mouthed over her food, grabbing the glass of milk.

“Yeah,” Dipper sighed, picking at his bacon dejectedly. He wondered if he should have gotten coffee instead, possible addictive consequences be damned. He saw Grunkle Ford drinking it in gallons a day, and the guy was like, 60. It should’ve been fine. He was going to highschool in September anyway, and from what he’s heard from Wendy, coffee is the only thing overworked students survive off.

“Hehy, Bro-bro, waht’s wronhg?” Mabel wolfed the rest of her pancakes down, before asking, “It’s not that stupid code again, is it?”

“Ugh, Mabel!” Dipper pushed away his plate, leaning on his elbows. “I thought this would help me with it, but I’m just more confused! I can’t stop thinking about it!”

“Sorry,” he added, when he saw Mabel wince at his tone, “I shouldn’t have-”

“Nah, it’s okay. Bill’s still a jerk.” Mabel grinned at him.

“The biggest jerk.” Dipper piped up.

“In the whole universe!”

“Multiverse.” he corrected.

“Wow, way to make a guy feel special.”

Dipper jumped in his seat. Bill was suddenly appeared out of nowhere, leaning over their table, hands folded smugly under his chin. How hadn’t he noticed the demons sooner? It was irritating, how easily he still spooked them despite being just as flesh and blood as everyone else. Talk about speak of the devil.

"Yikes, what's with the sour look, kid?" Bill grinned, shuffling into the seat next to them. "Ya look like a Meeseeks that's been alive for a day too long."

“A what-now?”

“Oh right, your dimension hasn’t reached the torture-induced-slavery-is-totally-okay level yet.” Bill shrugged, grabbing a strawberry from Mabel’s plate and popping it in his mouth. “Fun fact, human rights aren’t necessarily better the more advanced the civilization gets. Makes you think, huh?”

“What are you doing here, Bill?” Dipper scowled, raising his head to glare pointedly at the demon. “Weren’t you, like, scared someone would recognize you?”

“I remembered that the people here are as dumb as a log.” Bill frowned. “And I wasn’t scared. You don’t get a plan of wrecking the whole multiverse in order by being an idiot, is all I’m saying.”

“And then have it be wrecked in turn by two twelve-year-olds?” Dipper, bit back, feeling smug as Bill sputtered in his seat.

“You guys, look!” Mabel nearly leaped onto the table, pointing at something behind them. Before Dipper had a chance to wonder if there was something there of if she just wanted to end their bickering he froze.

There was indeed something. Really weird.

“Okay, so some guys just like to wear big cloaks. And look suspiciously like that Blind Eye cult. Maybe they’re cosplaying.”

“Cosplaying.” Bill echoed. “Kid, half of the people living in this dump don’t even know how to turn on a computer.” The demon’s eyes were narrowed, cautiously following the two cloaked figures that disappeared on the other side of the diner. “I know the irony of this is gonna set ya off, kid, but I don’t trust them.”

“You didn’t trust the speck of dust that was on your sandwich last week.” Mabel pointed out, finishing off the last of her meal. Still, her gaze was trained on the two guys in costume, not leaving them for a second even as she drank her milk.

“You humans die out of every little thing, you know that, right?” Bill sounded defensive. “How’s I supposed to know that wasn’t some kind of poisonous spore that would kill me?”

“Aren’t you supposed to be all knowing?” Dipper but back with a grin.

“Yeah, like I’d waste a minute of my unlimited lifespan looking at something as dumb as moss.”

“Guys, they’re leaving!” The two shady dudes got up from the booth, grabbing a to-go bag and exiting the diner, the door swinging back with an unwittingly cheery ding.

The three shared a glance. “Do we follow them?” Mabel breathed, jumping in her seat with anticipation.

The boy frowned, feeling hesitant despite the nostalgic excitement that was pooling in his stomach. Do they? On one hand, having a new mystery would not only be a refreshing start on their summer, but would distract him from the irritating headache that was that stupid code. On the other hand, there was Bill.

Bill, who met Dipper’s indecision with an annoyed roll of his eyes. “Yikes, what happened to Mr.’selling your soul for a dead laptop’?”

“I-”

“Cool, let’s go!” Already making up her mind Mabel dashed after the two figures, leaving Dipper gawking at her from the booth, Bill shrugging and slowly following behind.

“Hey, wait!”

…

“Do not touch that.” Stan retraced his hand, hiding it behind his back at that icy tone. Something told him he shouldn’t mess with her. That lady could be terrifying when needed to be, the freaky seven-eyed stare following him even as he backed away from whatever doohickey the chick was so sensitive about.

“Right, no touching, got it.”

Ford sighed, shooting his brother a warning look before he followed the woman deeper into the temple. Stan narrowly avoided a precariously piled book tower, shooting a quick glance at the rows upon rows of empty vials stacked neatly on several tall shelves. The salesman in him wondered how much all this sci-fi fantasy crap would be worth online, while the Mr.Mystery asked how much of this stuff he could sneak into the Mystery Shack without any issue. That weird, glowing blue, paperweight-like rock looked promising. Problem was, the last time he stole from a witch didn’t go that well, and Stan had a feeling that this one could do much worse than take his hands. Better safe than sorry.

So the man said goodbye to the radioactive rock, rushing to catch up to his overly enthusiastic brother.

They passed more of that voodoo-type shit on the way to wherever the hell that chick was taking them, stuff that handwitch could only dream on nicking, and Stan briefly wondered how his know-it-all brother even came across this lady. Okay, so Ford was automatically attracted to all things weird, but this?

Then they entered another, more spacious chamber, and Stan dropped his jaw somewhere along the way.

In a bizarre sort of nostalgia, it reminded him of the portal in the basement, or at least the first time he’d ever laid eyes on it. It was like his brother’s nerdy tendencies were all amped by a thousand, handed a couple of tons of scrap metal and tools and left with nothing to do for a few hundred hours. Every possible free space, every nook and cranny, every corner was filled to the brim with gadgets and gizmos. An unfinished robot arm was draped across a half-dismantled satellite.

“Wow.” Stan whistled appreciatively, and felt the Oracle's gaze as she eyed him (ha ha) from the side. “I mean, not that I'm surprised or anythin’, but...wow. No wonder my bro gushed about you so much. This is like his dream come true.”

Stanford coughed awkwardly into his fist, shooting his twin a pointed look that said not now.

The purple alien paid them no mind, kneeling down to shift through the rows upon rows of what Stan could only label as sci-fi stuff, eyes trained vacantly at the objects in her hand, but Stan could see the corner of her mouth turn up in a slight smile. Finally she stood, all seven feet of her, a small, shiny gizmo clenched gently in one hand. It vaguely resembled a clock, gold-colored dials glinting between the creature's fingers. She handed it to Ford, who cradled it in his palms. Closer, Stan could see the strange carvings etched on the metal, a language that didn't even seem coherent, nevermind human. Ford gawked at the clock thing some more, before shooting his attention to the purple lady. “Is this-?”

“Oh yes, though maybe not in the form you're accustomed to.”

“Yeah, great, anybody wanna fill me in here? Cause so far all I can see is a pretty good buck on eBay.”

Jheselbraum’s eyes crinkled, a hint of a smile. “This is a chronometer. Normally designed to handle small time paradoxes, I've repurposed it to handle other anomalies as well. It should not only measure the damage the Nightmare Realm may have caused to your dimension, but hold the seams of reality together quite longer, at least until we've figured out a more permanent solution.”

Stan eyed the thermometer thingy again, squinting at it in scrutiny. “So is this like some kind of super glue to hold that hole together? Cause that's what I'm getting out on it.”

“More like scotch tape, but yes, that's the idea.” The Oracle explained, erasing Ford's look of frustration. “The device would have to be recharged every few days or so, but since the damage hasn't spread further, I think will hold for quite a while.”

“And...what? This saucer shaped thingy is supposd’ta  stop reality from screwing? Call me crazy but that sounds stupid.”

Ford shot a harsh look in Stanley’s direction, still gently calling the trinket. “I'm sure it will work.” Stan couldn't tell if he said it for himself or the Oracle next to him.

Said oracle didn't look very impressed, passively watching the two brothers bicker. “It would be wise to install it soon. I'm sure nobody wants that gap to grow any bigger.”

The two nodded.

…

“What are they doing here?”

“Shhh.”

“Ooh, maybe they’re a cult!”

“Like those Swollen Eyeballs?”

“...What?”

“Oops, haha, nevermind. You humans have way too many eye-related fanatics. Way to make a guy feel special, y’know?”

“I’m not saying anything.”

“You just did.”

“Mabel! Shh!”

The two hooded figures rounded the corner, disappearing in the dumpster alley between the post office and the barber shop. Dipper peeked at them from behind the wall, finding the two mysterious persons deep in a conversation. They talked in a low whisper, impossible for him to hear, and their hoods were on too low to see any of their faces. Despite not knowing what they were talking about, it struck the twin as odd, pretty shady even. Then again, not many people walked around in full satanic worshipper gear. So yeah, Dipper didn’t trust them, not one bit. On the bright side, at least they weren’t the feds. He’s pretty sure the last time they saw those, Grunkle Ford had wiped their memories clean MIB style. They probably wouldn’t be too happy if they ever found out.

Mabel kneeled next to Dipper in order to see some of the action. Bill just stood by, leaning against the brick wall. Maybe he didn’t care to see who those guys were. Maybe he was pretending he still could, without the need to actually turn his head and look. Either way, he suddenly looked bored, looking ready to leave, but for some reason hesitant to leave the twins alone.

Dipper turned back to the pair of shady weirdoes, leaning over his sister to get a better look. They weren’t wearing anything remarkable except the cloaks themselves, and a thin sash wrapped around each of their waists. It had some embroidery on it, now that he realized it, something that looked like writing, though definitely not English. Arabic? Cyrillic? The letters were defined yet flowing, something mimicking cursive without actually being cursive.

The hand gripping the bricks slipped.  

Dipper tumbled down onto his sister, not having realized how dangerously far he’d leaned until it was too late. The two twins fell on the concrete with a bang, Mabel groaning in pain underneath him. The two figures turned toward them, and for a second Dipper wondered if they were like the bad guys in any action movie: ready to shoot down a witness to something they didn’t want getting out. He wondered if they had some crazy magic stuff going on, or if they’d just pull out a gun and get it done quick. They did none of that.

Instead they turned tail and ran, disappearing deeper into the alley, the robes dragging after them as they did. The twins breathed a shared sigh of relief.

Behind them, Dipper heard a slow clap. “Wow, way to go. A-grade sleuthing. Real Sherlock Holmes-like. The mystery twins. I don’t think I can run out of sarcastic remarks for that.”

“You could help us up.” Mabel growled underneath him.

“Nah.”

The boy slowly got up, stretching a hand to help his sister. “Who do you think those guys were?”

“Mass murderers. The kind that use your blood for sacrifices and carve all your insides out before burning your body to appease the gods.”

“...”

“Kidding! Or am I?”

Dipper dusted himself off, watching Mabel do the same, and cast a last look at the now empty alley. “We should tell Grunkle Ford.”

…

The track back to the Shack was long and exhausting. The heat of June weighed on the twins’ backs, making their movements sluggish and lazy. Bill trodded behind them, acting like he didn’t mind the weather, but Mabel could already tell he was just as uncomfortable, the way his mouth was forced in a tight line, sweat beading just above his eyebrows.

It was late-afternoon when they finally reached the Mystery Shack, the sun just peaking over the shingled rooftop, casting the attraction in a fiery glow. The house cast a long shadow over the driveway, bathing them in merciful cool. Mabel squinted at the front porch, seeing her two Grunkles sitting on the couch, deep in some kind of debate. The silhouette of the third visitor was just visible behind Grunkle Stan’s large frame, hands folded on her lap. The girl heard Bill draw a sharp breath behind her.

“Nora?” Dipper called out, running to meet the three.

Mabel spared a glance Cipher, who looked more and more uncomfortable by the minute. His face did a pretty good job of not letting it slip, but the way the demon dug his nails into his shirt made it clear he didn’t want to be here.

She wondered about that for a moment before shrugging it off, turning to follow her twin across the gravelly driveway. Nora smiled when she saw the two approach, but there was something going on. Ford looked somber, even more so than he usually was, and Stanley was too grumpy for it to be any good. Honestly, it looked like the two old men were trying to hide something.

“What’s going on?” Dipper asked, shooting a look to Grunkle Ford, hoping to glimpse at least something in his gaze. But the man’s face remained blank.

“Everything’s fine, unlike you two. Jeez, you kids take a tumble down a garbage dump?” Grunkle Stan hurriedly changed the subject, ruffling Dipper’s hair affectionately.

“Grunkle Stan-”

“Seriously, you guys have been acting really weird for a while.” mabel piped up, folding her arms and glaring at her uncles as effectively as she could. “What’re you hiding?”

“Probably that giant hole in reality.”

Any other time, Mabel would have taken this as another of Bill’s nonsense remarks. But the way the two old men suddenly tensed spoke volumes. Nora looked like she was resisting the urge to roll her eyes, looking to the side with an annoyed frown.

Stanford looked like he was struck by lightning, his eyes impossibly wide. “How did you-”

“Well, first off, I’m not blind, despite how much I feel like it.” Bill bit back, a grin on his face, seemingly enjoying the other man’s distress.

“What were you even doing there?”

Bill shrugged, inspecting his nails. “Looking for my hat. Obviously.”

“Obviously.” Stan deadpanned, already looking like he’s accepted everything. “Ya got some kinda need for that stupid thing or what?”

The demon bristled, hands clenching at his sides, when Nora suddenly got up, silencing all three of them. “Is this really necessary? Because I’d prefer to avoid the drama.”

Bill took a step back, while Grunkle Ford looked no less calm than before. “I- what if he-?”

“What if I what? What’d ya think I’ll do? Get back my powers? Fat chance that’s happening.” Bill bit back, fists still clenched by his sides. The oracle sighed, moving away from the scene and coming to stand next to Mabel, the annoyed look growing more pronounced.

“You wanted to destroy the world, and now suddenly that plan’s all done and forgotten? Please,” Ford got up, looming over the demon, who looked no more willing to back down. “I know better than to fall for that-”

Cipher burst out laughing, catching the scientist off-guard. “Destroy the world, why in the seven hells would I wanna do that??”

“But- you-, why would you-”

“BECAUSE I LIVE HERE, GENIUS!”

Ford grew silent, eyes wide. Mabel turned to the oracle, only to find her gone, not a trace of her left. Grunkle Stan noticed the same thing, coming up to pull the two men away from each other before they could do something stupid. “Right, okay, shut up. Both of ya. The lady already left, and honestly, right now I kinda wish I could do that whole vanishing trick too.”

Bill shook himself, snapping out of whatever funk he was in, Stanford breathing heavily next to him, but no longer looking like he’d kill him.

That’s when Dipper finally spoke, grabbing everyone’s attention. “Grunkle Ford, what are you talking about?”

Grunkle Ford sighed, looking away briefly before coming to meet the boy’s gaze. “I have something to show both of you.”  

[minijenn]

Universe Falls Chapter 68

Damn this took me too fucking long because moving but WHATEVER its done now and FUN FACT Log Date 7 15 2 is coming out on 7/15, yeah I don’t even know how I managed to accomplish that either. Enjoy!

Previous: https://minijenn.tumblr.com/post/185533681379/universe-falls-chapter-67

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Chapter 68: Log Date 7 15 2

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“Log date 7 15 2… I can’t believe I just did that!” Peridot’s calm report instantly turn to hysterics as she gripped her tablet tightly, her recording app taking in her every word all the while. Everyone had only just arrived back at the barn, still somewhat shaken by what they had just learned during the green Gem’s surprising conversation with her Diamond. But no one was more shaken than Peridot herself as she expressed her shock over her own open rebellion against her now former matriarch in the only way she knew how. “I disobeyed my orders and went against Yellow Diamond’s wishes! I’m a traitorous clod! I never want to think about what I’ve done again!”

Despite this proclamation, Peridot frantically tapped away at the tablet until it began playing back her most recent recording on a constant loop. “I’m a traitorous clod! I’m a traitorous clod!”

Oddly enough, this elicited a rather unhinged chuckle from the green Gem, one that only grew louder and more excited as she recalled exactly what she had done. “A-and I called Yellow Diamond a clod right to her face!” No more than a single beat later, Peridot collapsed to her knees, letting out a devastated whimper as she shook her head remorsefully. “I called Yellow Diamond a clod… right to her face…”

Though the green Gem had hardly paid them any mind, Steven and Mabel had been standing on the sidelines, watching Peridot’s entire breakdown as it unfolded before them. As frantic as the green Gem currently was, neither of them really knew much they could say or do to try and calm her down. Then again, that same sort of frenzy seemed to hover over everyone else’s heads at the moment like a shroud as well. Ford and the Gems were all congregated right outside the barn, discussing in hushed, fearful whispers the frightening fact they now faced: that Bill and Yellow Diamond really did have some sort of sinister alliance. An alliance that, by all accounts, none of them knew anything of other than the fact that it did indeed exist, though for what purpose, they were all still completely in the dark about. Certainly, it was a gravely worrying thought, one that they’d all likely have to confront sooner or later. But for now, while everyone else fretted over the future, Steven and Mabel opted to fret over the present—or more specifically, over Peridot—instead.

“Uh, Peridot?” Steven finally spoke up as the green Gem continued hunching over her tablet. “Are you gonna be ok?”

“…No!” Peridot quipped, looking back at the pair with a blatantly deranged smile.

“Aw, don’t worry, Peri,” Mabel soothed, pulling the blubbering green Gem into a tight embrace. “Everything’s gonna work out, you’ll see! Especially since you’re part of the best squad ever now!”

“The Despicable Traitors Against Their Homeworld Squad?” Peridot asked, her lip quivering all the while.

“No, silly!” Mabel chuckled before quickly recanting. “Well, actually, you’re not totally wrong. But anyway, you’re part of the Crystal Gems plus Pines Squad! Name’s still pending, but either way, your family now! Isn’t that exciting?”

“More like terrifying!” the green Gem countered, lightly shoving Mabel away. “You don’t understand! I’m protecting a planet I was once trying to destroy! I used to follow every order, every rule. Now, I’m a traitor. A rebel! A Crystal Gem!”

“…Yeah, that’s kinda what I just said…” Mabel noted as she exchanged a glance with Steven.

“Yeesh, and I thought we were all freaking out,” Dipper cut in as he stepped into the barn from outside. For the most part, he had largely just been listening in on the anxious discussion ongoing outside, though even despite his own immense concern over the matter, he had still decided to spare a moment to check in on the others amidst it. “I can’t say I know a ton about existential crises, but it sure does look like you’re having one, Peridot.”

“Hey! I am not having a so-called ‘existential crisis’!” Peridot huffed, offended. “I’m merely questioning my suddenly changed overall purpose in the grand scheme of reality!” At this, the green Gem set her recording app to repeat itself again, creating a chorus of ‘clod!” that showed real signs of stopping as Peridot paraded it around manically.

“Uh… well, at least your tablet seems to be helping,” Steven noted.

“No, its not! It’s a chronicle of my descent into madness!” Peridot snapped, tossing the tablet away from her. Fortunately, instead of hitting the ground, Garnet happened to catch it as she stepped into the barn right on time.

“You dropped this,” the Gem leader said, offering the device back to its owner.

“G-get it away from me!” Peridot quickly deflected, cowering behind Garnet. “Give it to them!” she pointed to the trio of kids. “Return madness to its source!”

“Uh, technically Pacifica was the one who gave you that tablet, not us,” Dipper pointed out, crossing his arms.

“It doesn’t matter!” the green Gem argued. “I don’t want anything more to do with it!”

“Are you sure, Peridot?” Steven asked as Garnet handed the tablet off to him. “I mean, you really, really like this thing.”

“Whatever! It’s yours now!” the green Gem refuted wildly. “Yours, not mine, not mine! Yours! Yours!”

“Oof, Peri, you really gotta take a chill pill,” Mabel mused, hands on her hips. “You know what always calms me down when I’m feeling stressed? Knitting!” She smiled brightly as she held up her rather complicated sewing kit, complete with countless balls of yarn and a vast collection of knitting needles.

“Good idea, Mabel, but I think I might just have a better one,” Garnet said as she gently hoisted the green Gem into the air to halt her frenzy. “Let’s calm down.”

“O-Okay…” Peridot finally stilled as she let the Gem leader carry her out of the barn for a moment of peace. “So am I gonna have to wear a star? Where am I gonna put the star?!”

“Well, there’s the newest Crystal Gem for you,” Dipper said with a bit of a sardonic smirk. “Hopefully Garnet will actually be able to get her to mellow out, I don’t know how much more ‘Peri-Panicking’ I can take.”

“Eh, I’m sure she’ll be fine eventually,” Steven mused, glancing outside, where Peridot sat alongside Garnet in some sort of unknown conversation. “Weird… they seem to be getting along well. I wonder when that happened…”

“Why don’t we find out?” Mabel grinned down at the tablet in Steven’s hands. “Peri’s been using that app she downloaded to record all of her log thingies. Its like a diary we can listen to!”

“Uh, you know reading—or I guess in this case, listening to other people’s diaries isn’t exactly… a good thing to do, right, Mabel?” Dipper asked knowingly.

“Yeah, we probably shouldn’t violate Peridot’s privacy like that…” Steven frowned before sparing another glance back at the tablet. All three of the kids took a brief pause, each of them contemplating the matter silently before the young Gem voiced what they were all thinking. “Then again… she did give this to us, so…”

“So what are we waiting for!?” Mabel cut in with an eager grin. Likewise, Dipper leaned in, admittedly quite curious about these unheard logs himself. “Steven, press that play button!”

The young Gem did exactly that, all three of the kids poising to listen in on the green Gem’s own telling of her time on Earth. A tale that would no doubt reveal just how far she’d come, from Homeworld to here, and everything in between.

The story of how Peridot became a Crystal Gem.

“Log Date 7 11 2.”

“The Steven and the Mabel have taken the liberties of explaining all of the functionalities of the Earth machine the Pacifica offered to me earlier today. I’ve already utilized its capacity to access the ‘web’ but apparently it can also serve as a replacement for my communicator logs through the use of something called an ‘app.”

“Oh, here’s a good one!” Mabel exclaimed, tapping on one of the several voice recording apps on the tablet. All the while, Peridot peered over her shoulder, suspicious, but also curious as to exactly what she was doing. “So we’ll just download this real quick and then you should be all set up.”

“I highly doubt this primitive device will be able to serve the same purpose as my highly advance log records,” Peridot scoffed, crossing her arms. “But I suppose I appreciate the intel you have to offer, the Mabel.”

“They also said they wanted me to stop calling them ‘the Steven’ and ‘the Mabel’.”

“Um, Peridot?” Steven interjected, somewhat bemused. “You don’t have to keep putting a ‘the’ in front of our names like that. I’m just ‘Steven’, and Mabel’s just ‘Mabel, ok?”

“I said I’ll call them whatever I want.”

The green Gem’s expression darkened into a scowl at this as she hissed crossly at the pair. “I’ll call you whatever I want!”

“He told me that was rude.”

“Rude!” Steven countered her outburst with a disapproving wave of his finger.

Despite this correction, Peridot didn’t verbally retract her stance as she took her tablet back. Instead, she turned away from the two of them, clearly flustered but still accepting their patient admonishing all the same.

“I guess I’ll call them… Steven and Mabel.”

“The organic life forms of Earth have fascinating traits despite their poor choice of residence.”

Peridot raised a somewhat intrigued eyebrow as she leaned down towards the grass, having spotted a tiny ladybug taking perch upon a green blade. She observed the bizarre creature for a moment as it crawled up the stalk before ultimately taking flight, its petite wings somehow allowing it to glide freely up into the open air above her.

“I wonder if all of them have flight capabilities…”

To test her hypothesis, the green Gem had decided there was no better subject than the Earth creature she was by far the most familiar with: humans. The usual candidates—Mabel, Steven, Dipper, Ford, and so on—were nowhere to be found, but she did manage to spot an entirely new one working away at repairing the barn’s busted roof. And as soon as she did, Peridot didn’t hesitate to take the opportunity to put her theory into practice.

Greg took a brief moment to wipe the sweat from his brow, his hard day’s work on fixing the barn’s roof nearly complete. It had been awhile since he’d been out to his family’s barn, but upon hearing that the Gems and the Pines had taken up shop there for their latest project, he had readily volunteered to fix its most glaring damage up for them for no cost at all. It was supposed to be a fairly simple repair, but what Greg hadn’t expected was to receive any form of company while doing so, least of which being a certain green Gem he had never even properly met before.

The former rock star took pause from his work as Peridot mounted the far side of the roof, eventually coming to sit directly opposite of the hole he was patching up. “Oh, you must be Peridot,” Greg greeted with a small, friendly smile. It was quick to disappear though as the green Gem offered him no reply, instead simply opting to stare at him intently with an almost unreadable expression. Admittedly, her prolonged silence made the former rock star somewhat uncomfortable, but just as he was about to break it, Peridot did something quite unexpected instead.

She shoved him off the roof.

Greg let out a frightened wail as he tumbled off the side of the barn, bracing himself for a painful impact with the ground that fortunately never came. Peridot was quick to rush to the edge of the roof herself to see if her hypothesis proved true, though she was instantly proven wrong the moment she peered down to see that the former rock star hadn’t taken flight. Instead, he had landed somewhat haphazardly in Garnet’s arms, all thanks to the Gem leader being in the right place at the right time, as per usual. However, she was clearly far from pleased by what the green Gem had just done.

“Peridot!” she scolded, glaring up at the roof.

“What do you want?” Peridot asked sourly from her higher perch.

“You can’t just shove someone off a roof!” the Gem leader said, her tone properly harsh.

“Why not?”

“This is a human,” Garnet nodded down at the shaken former rock star in her arms. “He isn’t like us. He’s fragile and soft.”

“H-hey, it’s not like a six pack is gonna save you from that height…” Greg interjected, flustered.

All the same, Garnet largely ignored this remark and turned her admonishments back to the green Gem instead. “You could have seriously hurt him!”

“Well, how was I supposed to know that?!” Peridot snapped, quite cross with being corrected in such a way.

“Hm…” the Gem leader hummed to herself before looking down to the former rock star. “Greg, you’ll have to excuse Peridot. She’s far from Homeworld and she still has a lot to learn about our planet.”

“No, I don’t!”

“Yes, you do,” Garnet responded to Peridot’s heated protest evenly.

“Uh… hey, yeah!” Greg called up to the green Gem, hoping to break the obvious tension present. “Don’t worry about it! Wouldn’t be the first time my life was put in mortal danger after all.”

Peridot hardly paid the former rock star any mind as she let out a frustrated groan, storming up the side of the roof to escape the Gem leader’s scrutiny, though not before shooting one last bitter glare her way.

“In conclusion, not all organic beings can fly. Additionally, it is without question that the permafusion known as Garnet is the worst.”

“Today, I have been assigned a ‘chore’—cleaning duty. Like I’m the Pearl! These clumps don’t know how lucky they are to have me…”

It was, at least as far as Peridot assumed, a simple task. Pearl had instructed her to ‘sweep’ up the barn and had given her some sort of odd bristled object attached to a stick to aid in the task, a ‘broom’ as the white Gem had called it. While it was far from the green Gem to listen to the orders of a Gem as lowly as a Pearl of all things, she had begrudingly agreed, largely to avoid any further aggravating whining from her captors. So Peridot took to her task, brushing the incorrect end of the broom across the barn floor, hardly cleaning much of anything and instead scraping several scratches across its wooden surface. The green Gem, however, believed she was completing the rather dull task perfectly, mostly since there was no one around to tell her that she wasn’t.

“Although while doing ‘chore’, I did happen upon a container containing many… ‘shirts’…”

Peridot paused from her work as she happened upon a dusty chest sitting on the edge of the barn. Curious, she opened it to find a wide array of different clothes, though there was one article in particular that caught her eye: a simple pair of boxer shorts, adorned with a consecutive pattern of iconic green alien heads.  

“Imagine—appearance modifiers that aren’t melded to your body! How ridiculous! How superfluous! How… fascinating…”

Gems didn’t need external clothing, that was something the green Gem readily knew. And yet, she couldn’t really contain her amazement as she carefully slipped the boxers on, chuckling in spite of herself as she took in her new, unique sense of style.

“Nice shorts.”

Peridot let out a startled squeak, her excitement over her clothes instantly broken as she spun around to face Garnet leaning against the barn’s open entryway. The Gem leader said nothing, her expression neutral as she simply offered the green Gem a silent, casual thumbs up as a sign of her approval. Approval that, as far as Peridot was concerned, she wanted no parts of.

“Ah! H-how did these get here!?” the green Gem panicked, swiftly tearing the shorts clean off her body. Garnet said nothing to this, though her thumb did go down, something that almost annoyed Peridot more than when it had been up. And the worst part was, she hadn’t the faintest idea of why that might be.

“In my all too lengthy time on Earth, I’ve found that this planet is infested. Infested with humans. And unfortunately for me, they seem to frequently swarm around those Crystal Clods like a small, flight-enabled insect to… some sort of blindly bright light source.”

Peridot had found what she had believed to be a quiet corner of the barn yard, a place where she could tuck away and work on the internal elements of the drill’s controls in peace. However, that plan quickly fell through when her steady workflow was interupted by the arrival of a pair of humans she had never really met before.

“Whoa! Check it out, Wendy!” Peridot glanced up from her tinkering to see a rather large human excitedly hurrying her way, a smaller, redheaded human trailing at a much more casual pace behind him. “Its that new Gem I was telling you about. I think her name’s… Peridude or somethin’ like that.”

“Close,” Wendy remarked, crossing her arms with a wry smirk. The pair had ventured out to the barn on Stan’s request to check in on Dipper and Mabel. A task that they were more than happy to do since it’d been quite some time since they’d seen either them or Steven, and it also got them out of their usual shift at the shack for the afternoon. “The kids told us her name’s Peridot, remember?”

“Oh right, right, Peridot,” Soos corrected himself with a nod. “But you gotta admit, Peridude would be a pretty cool name, dude.”

“Um, do I know either of you?” Peridot interjected, sending a glower to both of them.

“Oh, its me, Soos, dude!” Soos offered the green Gem a friendly grin. “We sorta met that one time Mr. Pines used you as the shack’s newest exhibit. Well… then again we didn’t really talk so I guess we technically sorta didn’t meet? Or maybe we did since Mr. Pines had me make t-shirts with your face on it? Or maybe we didn’t since-”

“Ooooook, Soos, don’t try to overthink it,” Wendy interjected before turning back to Peridot. “So, Dipper, Mabel, and Steven told us you’re the new Gem on earth. How are you digging it so far?”

“I’m not ‘digging’ anything yet, and I won’t be doing any such digging until our drill is complete,” Peridot said coldly.

“Uh… that’s not what I-”

“Oh yeah, that’s right! You guys are building that drill thing!” Soos exclaimed, thoroughly fascinated. “Mind showing us a quick peek of it, dude? I bet its totally futuristic and sciencey and rad!”

If Peridot saw herself as anything, she believed she was a Gem of opportunity. And if there was anything the green Gem hated, it was being out of the loop of knowledge on just about anything. Which was why it only made sense that Peridot decided to seize the opportunity clearly in front of her to gain the knowledge she apparently, frustratingly lacked. Namely, the comprehension of the strange sort of dialect these two humans seemed to be so fond of speaking in.

“Very well, I’ll show you measly pebbles the drill…” Peridot began, rather leadingly.

“Wait… ‘pebbles’?” Wendy repeated, confused and slightly offended.

“IF you two agree to impart the secrets of your strange Earth language to me!” the green Gem finished with her usual brand of boldness.

“Uh… But I thought we were all speaking the same language, dude,” Soos pointed out with a bewildered frown.

“N-no!” Peridot hastily countered. “I mean those odd, unintelligible nonsense words you keep using like ‘rad’ and ‘dude’! What do they mean? What kind of strange human code doers it stand for? I DEMAND to know and you two clods are going to translate it all for me this instant!”

Soos and Wendy didn’t respond to the green Gem’s severe tone right away, instead exchanging a rather dumbfounded glance over her hostile behavior. “Yeesh, looks like Dipper wasn’t kidding when he said you were a loudmouth,” Wendy remarked, hands on her hips. “Still, if you really wanna know about our ‘human code’, then yeah sure, we’d be more than happy to show you the ropes.”

“We will?” Soos asked, somewhat surprised.

“Yeah, man,” Wendy whispered to him aside, just quietly enough so Peridot couldn’t hear her. “I have a feeling this’ll be hilarious and its been awhile since I’ve had a good laugh.”

“Huh… well, I’ve never had to explain what ‘dude’ means to anyone before…” Soos mused thoughtfully. “But I’ve always wanted to give it a try!”

“Ah, yes, the mysterious ‘dude’,” Peridot cut in. “Let’s start with that one! What does it stand for? Is it a formal title used to regard superiors? Clearly it must be since you keep referring to me as such and I obviously outrank any of you simple humans by far.”

“Oh, uh…. Nah, dude’s really not that deep, dude,” Soos shrugged. “I just use it whenever I’m talking to my friends. Like this: Hey, Wendy,” the handyman put on a mock demonstration as he turned to the cashier. “What’s up, dude?”

“Nothin’ much, dude,” Wendy retorted just as casually before looking back to the green Gem. “Think you got the hang of it. Cause if not-”

“N-no!” Peridot cut in, flustered. “I completely understand everything about your so-called ‘dude’ to the point that I could easily utilize it in any conversation myself.”

“Great!” Soos grinned amicably. “Then why don’t you give it a try, dude?”

“Er…. Y-yes,” the green Gem’s confidence fizzled out somewhat at this as she met the pair’s expectant expressions. “This… is an… ideal example of the use of the word ‘dude’… dude.”

“Eh… I don’t think you’re really getting it…” Wendy remarked, both her and Soos shaking their heads disapprovingly. “Its ok, you know, if you can’t handle it. It is a pretty powerful word after all.”

“Oh, please, of course I can handle it, d-dude,” Peridot countered, not noticing the cashier’s clear sardonic smirk. “I will not let a simple human term of endearment become my undoing, dude! In fact, you might as well consider me to be the master of the dudes, DUDE!”

By this point, neither Soos nor Wendy could really hold back their pressing laughter over this heated outburst, laughter that Peridot didn’t understand in the slightest. Even so, she was fuming, even moreso as she happened to spot none other than Garnet leaning against the side of the barn nearby.

“Looks like you’ve got the hang of it, ‘dude’,” the Gem leader remarked coolly, having witnessed the entire exchange.

“Oh would you get out of here!?” Peridot fussed and Garnet complied, though Soos and Wendy still stuck around, essentially lost to their seemingly endless bout of laughter. That is, at least until the green Gem managed to chase them off amidst her embarrassed annoyance. “And the same goes for you two, dudes!”

“Log date 7 12 2. Today makes the 14th earth rotation since my… capture.”

“Happy two-week canniversary!” Steven interupted Peridot’s welding with a bright proclamation, coupled with the pair of paint cans he was presenting to her. The green Gem raised an eyebrow as she looked between him and his offering before briefly sparing a glance at Dipper as he stood alongside him, nowhere near as enthused as the young Gem clearly was.

“Cylinders?” Peridot asked, referring to the small cans in Steven’s arms.

Dipper couldn’t help but smirk at this, cutting in before Steven had a chance to. “Actually, Peridot, I don’t know if you’ve heard this, but around here, they’re called pyramids.”

“Ha! Nice try,” the green Gem retorted, hands on her hips. “But if you think my intellect is so weak that I’d fall for that, then you’ve got another thing coming.” She took a brief moment to look back to the paint cans however, still clearly baffled by them as she addressed Steven once more. “But seriously, what are they?”

“They’re stilts,” Steven smiled. “You tie them on your feet and they make you taller. I tried to spruce them up a bit. I dunno what it is about flames, but they just make everything cooler.”

“Why are you giving me these?” Peridot asked, still confused.

“Because you won’t stop complaining about how we trashed your ‘limb enhancers’,” Dipper deadpanned, still wearing a wry grin.

“And because we want you to feel nice!” Steven added much more sincerely. “That’s what gifts are for. You give them to your friends to show them you care. And they go ‘wow, thanks’. Like this.” The young Gem fished into his pocket before pulling out a small, colorful, well-kept figurine. “Here you go, Dipper; one of my favorite G.U.Y.S of all time: Ninja Guy! He’s a gift, just for you!”

Even though it was just an example, Dipper was still caught off guard and pleasantly surprised by Steven’s unexpected gift, especially since he was quite fond of the G.U.Y.S figurines himself. “Wow… Thanks, Steven!” he accepted the present warmly, Steven returning his excited smile.

“You’re welcome!” the young Gem chimed before glancing back at Peridot. “See what we mean?”

“Hmph!” the green Gem huffed, far from impressed by the shmaltzy exchange. “As if I’d stoop so low as to tie Earth trash to my body!” Peridot growled, swiping the paint cans away from Steven. “Leave me! And take your ‘G.U.Y.S’ with you! Go! Go! Go!”

Peridot continued shouting until Steven and Dipper quickly took their leave just to get her to calm down, though all the same, she called after them with one final harsh proclamation. “And wow, THANKS!”

“Why, yes, Pearl, I did get taller! How correct of you to notice!” Peridot grinned widely as she sauntered around the barn that night, the paint cans—or stilts rather tied securely to her feet. Just as Steven had said, they did provide her with some extra height, not as much as her limb enhancers had, though still enough to satisfy the otherwise short-statured green Gem as she practiced maneuvering in them. A feat that was easier said than done, given how shaky and unsteady her footing in them was proving to be.

“Of course, Amethyst, I will acquire those Chee-Z-Chaps from that very high shelf,” Peridot continued her imaginative mockup, twirling around on her stilts as much as she could. “Ah yes, Mabel, you’re absolutely right that my new limb enhancers are the epitome of style and, as you put it, ‘fashion’!”

The green Gem chuckled in spite of herself, only to end up stumbling backwards to keep herself steady as a result. “Haha! They even function in reverse!” Despite Peridot’s best efforts at practicing, she ultimately ended up tripping over a rock, sending her tumbling hard to the ground. Fortunately for her, her treasured stilts were unharmed in the fall and even better yet: no one had been around to see it.

Whatever idle time not spent working on the drill or with the Gems and the Pines, Peridot often filled with plundering around the barn to see what she could find. Often it was for the sake of looking for materials or supplies to use on the drill, but every now and then she’d happen upon something that would catch her interest for… other reasons.

Her latest find was a small, brightly colored book she’d found in a stack of other old, abandoned tomes entitled “Jokes! How to Make People Laugh Around You Instead of Feel Bad.”

“Jokes, huh?” Peridot muttered to herself as she cracked the book open. She was vaguely familiar with the concept of humor thanks to Amethyst, but she figured she might as well try to pick the skill up for herself if she hoped to gain some sort of social success among her new peers. Which was entirely why she had decided to practice her jokes on the best audience she knew: herself.

“‘Why did the chicken cross the road?’” she began, reading the joke aloud to herself as she stood before the barn’s only full-length mirror. “‘…The chicken wanted to get to the other side of the road!’”

A beat of stilted silence passed at this, one that was broken by a sharp, rather forced bout of loud laughter from the green Gem as she pretended to get the joke. “Ha! Ahahahah! …What’s a chicken?”

“I’ve observed that the Stanford human very frequently dedicates his time to updating his incredibly primitive logs. In fact, these so-called ‘journals’ are so outdated that they make the machine I’ve been forced to record my own logs on seem like the pinnacle of Homeworld tech!”

Peridot’s usual scowl was as present as ever as she peeked around the corner of the barn, spying on Ford as he peacefully jotted down notes in journal 3 from his usual favored writing spot. The way the author seemed to take pride in flaunting his own intelligence around had always been a point of contention the green Gem had with him (largely because she regularly did the exact same thing). She could hardly care less about his apparent research, and yet…

“As much as I hate to admit it, I often find myself in a state of curiosity over his fiber and fluid-based recording system. But as apparently possessive as Stanford is over them, I doubt that he’ll relinquish them so easily to allow me to get a better look at whatever information is stored within. Which is why I’ve devised a brilliant plan to claim one of them as my own!”

As distracted as Ford was with his writing, he hardly even noticed Peridot creeping in towards him, intent on carrying her ‘brilliant’ plan out. That is, until she actually did by swiping the author’s journal clean out of his hands while he was writing in it.

“W-what in the—Peridot!” Ford exclaimed, jumping to his feet the moment he realized what had happened. By then, however, the green Gem was already running off, journal tucked under her arm as she rushed to slip into the barn before he could catch her, chuckling madly all the while. Ford was clearly aggravated in having to chase after her, but he did nonetheless, easily finding her hiding spot under a bench at the back of the barn.

“May I ask what in the name of the Ellistis 5 Nebula you think you’re doing?” Ford asked, hands on his hips as he stood over her.

“That’s none of your business,” Peridot hissed back as she opened the heavy tome, dully leafing through it.

“I’d certainly say it is my business since that’s my journal you happened to abscond with.”

“Well, if you must know,” the green Gem glared up at him. “I’m researching your research, if that’s quite alright with you.”

“It isn’t,” Ford said flatly, holding out his hand. “Now, if you’d please kindly give it back, I’d greatly appreciate it.”

“Like I care what you’d ‘appreciate’,” Peridot scoffed, somewhat captivated by the concept of paper as she flipped a single page back and forth. “Ooo… are the logs contained in this collection… removable?”

“No, they are NOT!” Ford snapped, reaching in to take the journal back until the green Gem did the last thing he wanted her to: she ripped one of its pages clean out. “…Really? You really just did that?”

“Did what?” Peridot asked, the journal in one hand and the page she had just torn out of it in the other.

“Peridot…” Ford sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose in apt annoyance. “Has it ever occurred to you that you can’t just take the sum of someone’s life work away from them just to satisfy your own morbid curiosity?”

“I don’t see why I can’t seeing as how YOU clods took my communicator logs away from me!” Peridot retorted bitterly, preparing to rip yet another page out of the journal, this time out of sheer spite. “Now back off, or lose even more of yours!”

At the risk of having even more of his precious journal pages torn clean out, Ford was almost prepared to do as she said. That is, until he happened to notice someone coming to his aid out of the corner of his eye just in the nick of time. “Actually… I don’t think that’s much of a problem I’ll have to worry about.”

“Oh really?” Peridot raised an eyebrow at his suddenly smug grin. “And why is that?”

“Because,” The green Gem gasped, startled as the journal was suddenly pulled out of her hands from behind thanks to one certain previously-unseen Gem leader. “Those pages aren’t yours to rip out.”

“Hey!” Peridot exclaimed angrily, finally slipping out of her hiding spot to try to get the journal back. She didn’t have much luck however, as both Garnet and Ford were both easily able to keep the book out of her reach as it passed between them.

“Ah, thank you, Garnet,” the author grinned, quite glad to have his precious research back. “Fortunately, it seems as though she didn’t do too much damage. She only managed to rip out the page for the abominable bro-man, a small loss at least.”

Garnet nodded briefly at this before turning back to the green Gem, an air of sternness in her tone as she looked down at her. “Peridot. Remember what we told you about taking things without asking for them.”

“Pfft, no,” Peridot scoffed, crossing her arms. “And I don’t care either.”

“Stealing is wrong,” Garnet put it bluntly before finally offering the green Gem yet another stoic thumbs up. “Just keep that in mind and you’ll be golden.”

“Why would I want to be golden?” Peridot asked, confused. “I’m already Peridot!”

Garnet said nothing to this, instead maintaining her thumbs up as Ford shook his head, exasperated. “Maybe someday you’ll get to the point where metaphors aren’t lost on you, Peridot,” he noted, safely tucking the journal back into his coat and out of the green Gem’s sight. “But that day certainly isn’t today.”

“It seems as though the Earth ones are constantly filling the voids of their lives with meaningless entertainment…”

“You’re totally gonna love this, Peri!” Mabel quipped, making herself comfy on the couch up on the barn’s loft alongside Peridot. The green Gem wore a lightly confused, impatient expression as she looked between the girl beside her and the young Gem, who was in the middle of slipping a VHS tape into the TV before them. “If you thought coffee was good, then you haven’t seen anything yet!”

“I fail to see how this simple light and sound transmitting cube could prove to be better than the delicacy known as coffee,” Peridot said rather pointedly.

“Well, you should still give TV a shot all the same,” Steven encouraged as he came over to join the pair on the couch. “Besides, I have a feeling this’ll be right up your alley.”

“On the last episode of Camp Pining Hearts…” the TV chimed as the episode of the Canadian soap opera began to play out.

“I don’t care if you’re on the yellow team, Percy! We can make this work!”

“It’s a colour war, Paulette. Doesn’t that mean anything to you?”

“Ah! So romantic! And tragic!” Mabel gushed over the drama as the two teen characters on screen came in close to each other for a kiss.

“What is this strange ritual?” Peridot asked, watching in bewilderment as the couple drew in ever closer to the point that their lips were practically touching.

“Um… w-well,” Steven began, rather uncomfortable. He glanced over at Mabel, hoping to get her help in explaining this, though she seemed far too captivated by the emotional saga that was Camp Pining Hearts to really be of much assistance. “T-that’s-”

“Are they attempting fusion?” the green Gem cut in, even more confused as Percy and Paulette finally kissed, which they of course drew out as long as possible, much to Mabel’s elated delight.

“N-no,” the young Gem said, deeply flustered. “W-well, my dad told me… uh, during… certain stages of your life-”

“How could anyone indulge in this?!” Peridot interupted once more, apparently disgusted by this shameless display. “Baseless drivel! I’ll have no part in it!”

“Hour 78 of Camp Pining Hearts…”

“It’s a colour war, Paulette. Doesn’t that mean anything to you?” Peridot repeated along with Percy, having memorized the entire script from beginning to end. For what seemed like ages, the green Gem had been sitting, her face only a few mere inches away from the TV screen, completely engrossed in the unfolding drama before her. Drama that, even despite her initial distain towards it, she couldn’t resist, no matter how hard she tried.

“Uh… you’ve been up here for a few days…” Steven called as him, Dipper, and Mabel climbed up onto the loft to check on the green Gem, who had, by all accounts, been oddly missing all that time. “Is everything ok?”

“I’ve just been…” Peridot trailed off, looking between the kids and the TV briefly. “Watching your previously recorded entertainment.”

“For three days straight?” Dipper asked, rather incredulous.

“Aw, see, Peri? I told you you’d love CPH!” Mabel exclaimed happily. “It’s a classic.”

“Wait…” Steven interjected upon stealing another glance back at the TV. “Is that… the same episode from the other day?”

“…There’s more than one?”

“Oh, Peri, you have no idea!” Mabel quickly took a seat next to the baffled green Gem. “CPH is a several season saga of love, competition, and gorgeous Canadian teens, like Pierre! He’s just dreamy…”

“Yes, I’m well aware of how… adept Pierre is,” Peridot huffed, swiping up a piece of paper sitting next to her. “That’s exactly why I made this!”

“Is that… a picture?” Steven asked, having a hard time making out the detailed graph.

“Picture?” Peridot countered. “This is no mere picture, Steven! It’s a complex chart cataloguing the compatible characteristics between campers.”

“Wait…” Dipper cut in before letting out a small snicker of realization. “No way. Peridot, did you seriously make-”

“A shipping chart?!” Mabel gasped in awe as she looked over the chart for herself. “Oh, Peri, you really are a superfan! Quick! Tell me who your OTP is!”

“…I have no idea what any of that means,” Peridot concluded stanchly before she took her chart back. “But what I do know is that somehow the rejects at Camp Clod fail to realize the superior pair that is Pierre and Percy.”

“Well, that’s because Paulette likes Percy,” Steven pointed out.

“Paulette?” the green Gem scoffed harshly. “Ha! Paulette has no place in the camp’s hierarchy! Now, Pierre, Pierre is a brute! He laid waste to the three legged races! Pierre and Percy present the strongest battle formations! They’d destroy the entire camp!”

“Ooo! And now that you’d mention it, they’d make a super cute couple too!” Mabel said with a bright smile. “How did I never see it before? You’re a real ‘Pining Hearts Pioneer’, Peri!”

“Yes, I absolutely am!” Peridot proclaimed with a proud smile. “Its about time somebody noted my mastery of your feebly-constructed human media!”

“You’ve literally only watched one episode out of one show, calm down,” Dipper remarked, deadpan.

“And… you got all of that out of one episode?” Steven asked, somewhat impressed by that fact.

“It’s…. subtext, Steven,” the green Gem shrugged. “Allow me to explain.”

“Please, don’t,” Dipper said dryly, though of course, Peridot did anyway.

“Percy and Pierre are on the yellow team, and also-”

“Ugh…” Steven groaned, exasperated as the tablet’s recording began playing out Peridot’s infamously lengthy rant on the show. “I remember this part…”

“Yeesh, me too,” Dipper remarked sourly. “Only Peridot could go on for something that not a single person could ever care about for so long?”

“Hey, I cared about it!” Mabel protested, reaching for the tablet. “Let’s listen carefully to it! She makes some really good points in here!”

“NO!” Steven and Dipper quickly protested, rushing to fast forward past the green Gem’s diatribe entirely.

And what a diatribe it was. In deep, dramatic detail, Peridot went over her intricately crafted thesis on all things Camp Pining Hearts to her lukewarm audience. The kids made themselves comfy on the couch as the green Gem explain everything she had heard and seen from the single episode of the show she had watched countless times over. Her immense knowledge of the half hour segment had given her a strong opinion that Percy and Pierre were the ideal team out of all of the campers based on all the evidence she had gathered. And as passionate as she was on the subject, it took her several hours to divulge that evidence, to the point that Steven and Dipper quickly lost interest, though Mabel was thoroughly engrossed in the discussion of the show that she was rather fond of herself. But even then, her enjoyment of it seemed to pale in comparison to Peridot’s, who refused to even really let her get a word or question in edgewise amidst her seemingly endless, several hour long rant. At some point, Garnet joined the kids in listening in on it, though even so, Peridot hardly paid her or the kids (who had all long since fallen asleep as she went on and on) any mind as she brought her explanation to its bold conclusion.

“And that is why Percy and Pierre are objectively the best for each other!” she finished, clearly on an excited high from her intense explanation.

The green Gem’s verve was hardly shared however, since all three of the kids were still completely asleep, essentially piled on top of each other on their spots on the couch. Garnet on the other hand, also offered no reaction, that is, outside of her usual, simple, silent thumbs up. A thumbs up that was more than enough to annoy Peridot to the point that she ripped up her shipping chart entirely in a heated rage.

“Out of all of the humans I’ve been forced to contend with, the Ma—or just Mabel is by far the most agreeable out of all of them. And also the most well-versed in the more significant elements of this planet’s culture and social practices, such as today’s lesson in the adhesive item commonly known as ‘stickers’.”

“What are you doing?” Peridot asked, watching impatiently as Mabel flipped through some sort of colorful book.

“Oh, hiya, Peri!” Mabel greeted the green Gem as brightly as she always did. “I’m just sorting out my Sticktionary, see?” She held up the surprisingly thick book with a cover reading “Big Book of Stickers” in bold, bright letters.

“Stickers?” Peridot questioned dully.

“Whaaaa?!” Mabel gasped, dumbfounded as she looked up at the green Gem. “You don’t know what stickers are?! What the heck is even going on on Homeworld for you not to know about stickers!? Well, don’t worry.” She patted the spot on the ground next to her. “Mabel’s got you covered with everything you need to know, as usual.”

While normally, Peridot would have declined the invitation, she really didn’t have anything better to do at the moment, which was why she begrudging took a seat next to the girl to listen to her lesson. “Throughout history, stickers have been the backbone of many great civilizations,” Mabel began dramatically as she flipped through her own collection.

“No, they haven’t,” Dipper called from his spot on the other side of the barn, having overheard the conversation amidst his casual reading.

“The ancient Greeks used leeches for stickers!” Mabel continued, largely ignoring her brother. “The more stickers you had, the cooler you were!”

“Nope, not true.”

“The ancient Aztecs’ chest skull was the modern equivalent to today’s ‘orange you happy, mon?’” Mabel grinned, holding up said orange sticker.

“Yes,” Dipper interjected once more, exasperated. “Aztec war paint was exactly like a rasta orange. Mabel, have you ever read a history book?”

“Oh, will you be quiet already?!” Peridot huffed before Mabel could make any sort of counters herself. “Don’t you know an in-progress orientation on what’s apparently one of Earth’s most significant status symbols when you see one? I’m trying to listen to it!”

“…You know, on second thought, this ‘sticker’ lesson is probably exactly on your level, Peridot,” Dipper noted dryly as he took his book and left the pair in peace.

“So anyway, where were we before we were so rudely interupted?” Mabel asked, glancing down to her book once more. “Oh yeah! My Stictionary! So stickers fall into several distinct categories: puffy stickers… googly eye stickers… bumper stickers, scratch and sniff stickers, sniff and touch, touch and taste, and last but not least, price stickers! You can get these free at the store!”

“This is all very… fascinating,” Peridot deadpanned. “But what exactly is the point of these… ‘stickers’?”

“What’s the point?” Mabel frowned, baffled by such a question. “Peri, the ‘point’ is that they’re amazing! Wearing a sticker shows that you’ve got personality, that you’re special and unique. Here, I’ll show you what I mean.” It didn’t take long for Mabel to search through her collection to find the perfect sticker for the green Gem, which she gladly positioned over the diamond on Peridot’s uniform. “There ya go! It’s a turtle; he’s green, just like you are, Peri!”

“Ooooo…” Peridot mused, genuinely amazed by the simple sticker. “I understand everything now; these ‘stickers’ are some sort of Earth status symbol! The more you have, the more important you are, just like you said!”

“Uh… well, I don’t know if that’s-”

“Which is why I must have more of them!” Peridot took the sticker book into her own hands, eagerly flipping through it. “I need to demonstrate to all I encounter my elevated significance when compared to everyone else! And based on what you told me, these stickers are the best way to do that!”

“Whoa, hold the phone, Peri,” Mabel interjected, taking her book back. “I’m more than happy to let you share in on all of the sticker fun, but you can’t just take them from me. If you really want more, all you gotta do is ask nicely! You remember that super-special magic word I taught you?”

“Uh… yes…” Peridot groaned, annoyed as she complied. “Please?”

“Yep, you got it!” Mabel grinned as she brightly offered the green Gem a sunshine sticker. “And here you go, another sticker to show everyone-”

“To show everyone that I’m the absolute best of the best!” Peridot exclaimed proudly.

“No,” Mabel shook her head. “To show that you think manners are number one!” To prove her point, she gave the green Gem yet another sticker, this time in the shape of a #1. This was only the beginning, however, as the next hour or so turned into a seemingly endless sticker exchanges. For every time Peridot remembered to say please in response to just about anything, Mabel readily awarded her with yet another sticker, each of them completely colorful and unique. The green Gem was more than excited to earn them to, placing each of them, dispensing them all over her body to the point that she was more or less covered in them in almost no time at all, much to her immense satisfaction.

“And here’s a special glittery sticker,” Mabel handed the green Gem what had to have been her 3-th sticker. “It’s a pirate ship!”

“Ah yes, a ship,” the green Gem smirked as she slapped the sticker over her shoulder. “Certainly this one will signify my skill when it comes to piloting all manner of interplanetary vessels.”

“Uh, sure,” Mabel shrugged, amused. She perked up even more, however, upon spotting Garnet enter the barn a moment later. “Oh! Hi, Garnet! I’m glad you’re here; I’ve been saving up this super special, color-it-yourself sticker for you! Bam!” She held up a heart sticker, half colored red and half colored blue. “It’s supposed to represent Ruby and Sapphire. Pretty neat, huh?”

“Very,” Garnet smiled, taking the sticker and proudly displaying it on her chest. “Thank you, Mabel.”

“You’re welcome!”

“Wha-hey!” Peridot squeaked angrily after watching this exchange. “What in the name of the Diamonds is this?! I have to go through an endless round of pleasantries to get even just one sticker, but you’re willing to hand them off to the fusion for just walking in? How is that fair?!”

“Aw, Peri,” Mabel tried to reason. “That’s not-”

“It certainly can’t be because she’s of a higher rank than I am,” Peridot continued her rant. “After all, the very thought of that is just absurd.”

“No, Peri, I just-”

“It couldn’t—NO,” Peridot gasped, suddenly mortified. “D-don’t tell me… its because you like her more than me?!”

“W-what?”

“And after everything we’ve been through,” the green Gem lamented. “I’ve never in my entire existence felt so betrayed. And after I finally allowed myself to become your new ‘fiend’ after weeks of you begging for it and everything!”

“You mean ‘friend’,” Garnet corrected.

“Yeah, that too!”

“Oh, Peri, I don’t think you understand,” Mabel said with a good-natured smile. “I like both you and Garnet!”

“Then why did she get a special sticker?”

“Well… uh… just… because, I guess?” Mabel shrugged. “There really isn’t that much more to it. Sorry?”

“Ugh!” Peridot groaned loudly, quickly tearing every single sticker off of her body. “Then all of these are meaningless!” And with that, the green Gem stormed off, though before even Garnet or Mabel could react to her frustration, she hurried back, though only for the purpose of scooping up her discarded stickers off the floor. “I’m still keeping these though. Especially the turtle. Don’t ask why.”

“Log Date 7 13 2. Progress on the drill is going optimal. Surprisingly though, I have a few complaints on the work ethic of-”

“Heeeeeey!” Peridot jumped, startled to the point that she interrupted her own log, She was quick to send an annoyed glance over at Amethyst, or rather, at Amethyst who was currently shapeshifted into Lion beside her.

“Amethyst, really,” Pearl huffed, looking over from her and Ford’s welding work on the drill. “This is no time to be fooling around.”

“Aw, c’mon, P,” Amethyst teased, still taking on the form of the pink beast. “I’m just trying to lion the mood.” She paused for a beat to let her joke sink in, seeing that it had been apparently lost on both Pearl and Ford before she continued it. “Lion around.”

While Pearl merely grumbled at the rather lousy pun, Ford shook his head over it, hardly amused. “Good to see Amethyst’s… unique sense of humor hasn’t changed over the past 30 years,” he noted dryly before getting back to work.

“Do you always use shapeshifting like this?” Peridot asked Amethyst, her tone clearly critical.

“You mean to be really cool?” Amethyst smirked, changing her form from Lion’s to the green Gem’s. “Pretty much.”

“But its such a-”

“-Significant use of energy when compared to the output!” Amethyst and Peridot both said in near unison as the result of the purple Gem’s playful mocking.

“…What was that?” the green Gem asked, confused and slightly irritated.

“I’ve been practicing my ‘Peri’-phrasing,” Amethyst grinned proudly. “Pretty impressive in my opinion, but its hard to beat the original.”

By this point, Peridot was clearly flustered by the purple Gem’s teasing, though she managed to play it off with a small, light chuckle all the same. “So… can you shapeshift into anything?”

“Sure,” Amethyst reverted back into her original form with a daring smile. “Got a request?”

Peridot, in fact, did have a request, one that, Amethyst immediately agreed to the moment she heard it.

“Bawk! Bawk! I’m a chicken!” the purple Gem laughed rowdily, running around the barnyard in the form of, of course, a wild chicken. The others watched on as she scrambled about, all of them mildly amused, though none more than Peridot as she cackled loudly from the realization.

“Ha! I get the joke now!”

“Yes, well, at least she isn’t lion around anymore,” Pearl joked, laughing lightly as she did.

“…Hm. Seems as though Pearl’s sense of humor hasn’t changed in 30 years either…” Ford noted to himself as he continued tinkering away at the drill.

Peridot, on the other hand, did her best to acknowledge the white Gem’s quip with something of a forced chuckle, even if she didn’t really find it that funny. Still, as she had come to learn during her time on Earth, it was often the thought that counted more than anything else.

“Pearl really tries for some reason and I can appreciate that. Stanford is… tolerable, for a human at least. Amethyst’s company is entertaining as well. But the fused one…”

The green Gem’s fake laughter quickly died down as she stole a brief glance over at Garnet. The Gem leader said nothing, keeping her relaxed stance against the barn as she simply sent her yet another silent, solitary thumbs up.

“Eludes me…”

Sure enough, the drill was just about done. In fact, the only thing that really needed to be done on it from a general standpoint was to attach the drill itself, something that both Pearl and Amethyst were aware of as they looked over the sizable injector head before them.

“Ok, we can add more support as we go,” Pearl noted thoughtfully. “But for now, we just have to pick it up and put it on top.”

“No sweat,” Amethyst smirked, shapeshifting into the muscle-bound Purple Puma. “Let’s do this!”

“You’ve got the right idea, but we might want to be a bit more careful.”

“Gotcha,” the purple Gem obliged, shifting back as she extended a cordial hand out to Pearl. “Shall we?”

The white Gem warmly agreed, allowing Amethyst to pull her into a brief, yet surprisingly graceful dance. And that dance was more than enough to bring the two Gems together into Opal without a single hitch whatsoever.

Peridot could do little more than gawk when she saw the familiar fusion, appalled that two incredibly dissimilar Gems could just combine so easily over something so small. She was even more dumbfounded as she watched the fusion swiftly scoop up the drill head and position it correctly for the finishing touches to be made on it.

“That looks great,” Garnet called over to Opal from her spot near the barn. “Let’s take a break.”

As if Peridot couldn’t get even more baffled by the fusion’s ongoing presence, she was even more confused when Opal stuck around even after the Gem leader’s call for said break. In fact, she was so frustrated with just how backwards everything seemed to be here that she found she couldn’t contain that frustration any longer.

“Alright, I’m at my limit!” Peridot growled as she stormed over to Garnet petulantly.

“Evening, Peridot,” the Gem leader greeted as coolly as ever.

“Explain to me, fusion!” the green Gem shouted back. “Explain to me how you Crystal Clods can just go around fusing all willy-nilly like this! The ‘Stepper’ was bad enough, but then there was the ‘Maven’ and the ‘Dipevebel’, not to mention that… thing,” she sneered over at Opal afar in the distance, still happily, harmoniously fused despite the fact that her work was over. “And don’t even get me started on you. I can at least make sense of your existence if it’s for a functional purpose. But you’re not using your combined size and strength to do anything!”

“I’m doing something.”

“And what’s that?”

“Stargazing,” Garnet smiled, the glimmering stars above reflecting against her visor.

Peridot let out a disgusted, disgruntled groan. “You can do that alone.”

“Don’t want to.”

The green Gem scoffed once more, still completely baffled by just how callous and carefree the Gem leader was about something as touchy and taboo as fusion. Oddly enough, however, Garnet didn’t seem to mind her bitter manner, instead silently tapping the empty spot on the bale of hay beside her with the unspoken invitation for her to sit down. Peridot was more than ready to turn her offer down, but ultimately, she relented, sighing as she slipped up onto the hay alongside the Gem leader.

“You can see Homeworld’s galaxy from here,” Garnet began, nodding towards the night sky.

“…You’re right…” Peridot’s eyes widened as she spotted the distant cluster of twinkling stars, so seemingly close, yet so painfully far.

“We’re very different,” the Gem leader noted, smiling over at the green Gem softly, kindly. “I appreciate that.”

“R-really?” Peridot asked, confused. “Even after… what I just said about you and fusion?”

“Peridot,” Garnet’s tone remained calm and even as her smile faded somewhat. “I think a big part of why fusion frustrates you so much is because you don’t understand it. Or rather, Homeworld wouldn’t let you understand what it could really be.”

“Pfft, like I’d even want to understand it,” the green Gem glanced away, coldly. “I think I’ve gotten more than my fair share when it comes to fusion thanks to…” She trailed off, almost not finishing her thought entirely before she shuddered visibly, still completely averting the Gem leader’s gaze. “Pyrite…”

“Pyrite wasn’t a fusion,” Garnet countered, her expression darkening somewhat.

“Uh… y-yes they were?” Peridot frowned. “They were also a complete disaster, one I still can’t believe I let myself be a part of! Every time I so much as close my eyes its like I can still hear his sickening laughter rattling around inside my gem as he ripped away control of my form right out from under me! And the worst part of it all was I let him do it! I let him in and I let that… that abomination Pyrite exist in the first place!”

“Even if you did, its still not your fault,” Garnet suddenly interrupted the green Gem’s bout of immense regret. “You’re definitely not the first to be tricked by Bill. Pearl, Amethyst, and even Ford and I can all attest to that. He has a way of making you think that his way is best, when in reality… everything he does is for his own twisted gain and no one else’s.”

“…Now you’re telling me…” Peridot muttered, pulling her legs tightly against her chest.

Garnet paused for a moment, easily telling that the green Gem was still hardly comforted by the haunted look in her eyes alone. Which was why she decided to take an entirely different route in reassuring her instead. “Your first ‘fusion’ may not have been what a fusion should have been,” she mused thoughtfully, empathetically. “But that doesn’t mean you can’t still see what it’s supposed to be like. If you really want to understand what real fusion is, I could show you.”

“…What do you mean?” Peridot asked, unable to deny her own intrigued curiosity.

“Let’s fuse.”

“Oh my stars!” the green Gem gasped, falling off the hay bale entirely upon hearing this.

“Heh, I get it,” Garnet grinned, extending a hand to help her up off the ground. “You’re not ready. That’s fair. I can’t blame you, especially after what Bill put you through. Another time then.”

“N-no!” Peridot shook her head fervently, determined to prove that she could do this. That whatever lingering terror and dread Pyrite had caused for her didn’t define her even still. “No, just… just give me a sec!”

Garnet complied, creating a space for them to dance in as Peridot rushed back into the barn to get ready. When she emerged, she stumbled out on the ‘stilts’ Steven had given her, hoping that the extra height would help her measure up to the Gem leader’s taller stature. Even still, she was rather nervous, all things conserved, as she teetered over to take Garnet’s hand so their dance could truly begin.

“Get ready,” the Gem leader encouraged, easily pulling her in close. For the briefest of moments, Peridot thought that, as Garnet began to spin her out, that she could do this. That she could fuse and become something more, something better than Pyrite could have ever hoped to be.

But then, in that split second, the fear and doubt all rushed right back in. What if it didn’t work? What if it did? What if fusion, regardless of who it was with, was still just as bad for her as it had been with Bill? What if, with Garnet or anyone else for that matter, it was better than she could have ever imagined? Those, and about a million other ‘what ifs’ dashed through her mind faster than she could keep up with them. And, as overwhelmed by both the countless risks and possibilities as she was, it was no wonder that Peridot ultimately ended up breaking apart from Garnet altogether, far before they even had a chance to fuse.

“N-no, no, no, no, no!” the green Gem stumbled back, clearly anxious and upset. “I-I… I can’t do it…”

Despite the bitter disappointment Peridot was feeling, Garnet merely answered it with a warm, supportive smile. “That’s fine! Peridot, I’m proud of you.”

“Why?!” Peridot huffed, more confused than ever at just how accepting the Gem leader seemed to be of her blatant failure.

“Because you made an effort to understand me,” Garnet said. “Even when it was difficult for you to do so.”

“But I still don’t understand you!” the green Gem groaned, exasperated. “Why are you fused all the time?!”

Garnet took a brief moment to think that this, before offering her answer in a way that Peridot would be sure to understand. “I’m Percy and Pierre.”

Just like that, every missing piece for Peridot clicked right into place. And at long, long last she finally understood exactly what Garnet was and why. Just as she had said of Percy and Pierre, they were, as bizarre as it might be by Homeworld’s standards, the perfect match. “Ohhh….”

“Ok… go!”

“Log date… seven fourteen two.”

Steven, Dipper, and Mabel all gasped, mutually surprised to hear Garnet’s voice joining in on Peridot’s usually singular recordings. Still, even despite the Gem leader’s attempt to start the log, the green Gem was quick to jump in to correct her.

“No, you say it seven one four two! Ugh… Log date, 7 14 2. I have attempted a fusion with the fusion Garnet. I had hoped to gain a better understanding of fusion; Instead, I got a better understanding of Garnet.”

The kids couldn’t help but share a small smile upon hearing this, knowing that this near-final log, just like all the rest they had heard, was by and large a testament to just how far the green Gem had come. For certainly, there had been a time when the only reaction she had towards Garnet, towards any of them really, was scorn and disdain and little else. But now, where there had once been callous cruelty, there now stood genuine respect, respect that Peridot had gained towards each of them all on her own. And that, along with her bold stand against her former Diamond, was something the young trio couldn’t help but be proud of.

“Wait, keep it on a moment,” Garnet suddenly spoke up before the most recent recording could end. “Steven, Dipper, Mabel, you probably shouldn’t have listened to Peridot’s logs, but I know your shared curiosity comes from a place of caring. Either way, you should give her tablet back to her now. She’s going to want to keep it.”

“Wait… what?”

Surprised as they were by the Gem leader’s very accurate foretelling, the kids were even more surprised to see Peridot and Garnet returned to the barn. The green Gem’s former frenzy had finally been quelled, replaced with a calm sort of resignation over her new lot as a Crystal Gem, a calm that had come about in no small part thanks to the Gem leader’s easy reassurances.

“Here, Peridot,” Steven handed the tablet back over to the green Gem with a smile. “You can take this back.”

“Yeah, consider it as a ‘welcome to the family’ gift!” Mabel chimed in happily.

“Mabel, it was already hers to begin with,” Dipper pointed out, amused. “Still, we probably should appologize for listening to all of your logs and everything, so… yeah.”

“Wow, thanks,” Peridot deadpanned as she reclaimed her tablet. She paused, however, noticing as Steven, Mabel, and even Dipper followed suit after Garnet, all four of them offering her cheery smiles and encouraging thumbs up. And, even despite whatever lingered of her dread in turning away and breaking free from everything she had used to know to embrace a life, believes, and teammates she had once stood against but now couldn’t imagine living without, it was a thumbs up that she finally not only accepted, but returned.  

Next: 

[scribefindegil]

Fisherman’s Knot Chapter 16

[Ao3]

[Title Songs]

[Chapter 1] [Chapter 2] [Chapter 3] [Chapter 4] [Chapter 5][Chapter 6] [Chapter 7] [Chapter 8] [Chapter 9] [Chapter 10] [Chapter 11] [Chapter 12] [Chapter 13] [Chapter 14] [Chapter 15]

Content warning for abuse. 

Many thanks to @thesnadger for betaing--always, but especially for chapters like this where I throw them at her shouting “I’m too angry at my own villain to tell if this is good! Help me!” She is the best. 

Also thanks to @marypsue for helping me work out Serinam’s motivations and the plot snarl I was stuck in so I could stop worrying and actually write this thing.

We Sang Them Up The Beach

“You’re going to a party?”

“Well, not really a party, it’s—”

“And you didn’t tell me?”

Mabel glared out from the laptop screen, hands on her hips.

“We just decided last night, pumpkin,” said Stan, his tone somewhere between soothing and defensive.

“Yeah, but do you know how much I could have done since last night? Grunkle Ford needs a makeover, and Nuala needs an advanced course in Humaning, and where were you planning to get an outfit for her, hmm?”

Stan looked across the table at Ford and gave him a one-shouldered shrug. “At . . . a store?”

Mabel rolled her eyes. “You two are hopeless at fashion. No offense, but I think it’s time to bring out the big guns.”

She pulled out her phone, dialed, and stood there tapping her foot while it rang.

“Yes, hello. Pacifica? We’ve got an emergency!”

Nuala stood awkwardly in the center of the cabin wearing her sealskin and one of Stan’s Hawaiian shirts while Ford took her measurements. It felt strange. They had plenty of measuring equipment on the boat, but it was for anomalies. Experiments. Not people.

From a split video window on the laptop screen, the Northwest girl watched judgmentally. The fact that “judgmental” was clearly a default expression that had been drilled into her since birth didn’t make Ford feel any less scrutinized.

“Are clothes always this complicated?” Nuala asked. She wriggled and made a face as Ford wrapped the measuring tape around her hips.

“Only super-fancy awesome sparkle clothes!” said Mabel, at almost the exact same time that Pacifica said, “If you take your appearance seriously they are.” She was scrolling through something on her hot pink phone. “We’ll have to go off-the-rack, and plus-size is a challenge, but I’m sure we can find something suitable.”

“Aww, Pacifica!” said Mabel. “You’re like her fairy godmother!”

Perhaps it was some issue with her webcam, but Pacifica seemed to go very red all of a sudden.

“Whatever,” she sniffed. “I’m only doing this so you’ll owe me.”

Ford let her walk him through the rest of the measurements. It made him almost nostalgic for the dimensions where they had machines that could just scan your body and spit out clothes in exactly your size, even though his experience with them had mostly involved disguises and prison jumpsuits. He finished taking the circumference of Nuala’s bicep—first relaxed, at Pacifica’s insistence, and then flexed, at Stan’s.

“Wouldn’t want to go up against you in the ring!” said Stan. “Once you figured out how fists work you’d be a powerhouse.”

“Fists are silly,” said Nuala, shrugging away from Ford and the tape measure. “Can you bite in this ring?”

“Eh,” said Stan. “That depends on how much you care about things like ‘rules’ and ‘consequences.’ Now, when I was a kid—”

“All right, she’s done,” Pacifica interrupted blithely. “Now you.”

Ford blinked at her. “Excuse me?”

Mabel flapped her arms at the screen. “You’ve gotta get fancied up, too, Great Uncle Ford!”

“No, but—I . . . we have a suit already . . .”

“What, that thing your brother wears? Pu-lease. It should have ended up in the rag bucket like twenty years ago.”

“It is a little . . . vintage,” said Mabel apologetically. “And it’s got that weird old-person smell, like moth balls and disappointment. Sorry, Grunkle Ford, but I think Pacifica has a point.”

“Well, obviously.” They really needed to see about color-correcting the screen—Pacifica’s face looked to be about the same shade as Ford’s sweater.

Speaking of which . . . they’d had to dress Nuala in the thinnest shirt they had before Pacifica would accept any of her measurements. There was no way she’d let Ford keep the heavy woolen turtleneck.

He tried anyway. “Can’t you just measure over . . . ?”

“Not if you want it to fit, which is the entire point of measuring.”

“What about the height thingies?” said Mabel. “You can start with those, at least!”

And so Nuala, fumbling at first to hold the tape measure, took down Ford’s height and the length of his trouser legs and several other things that seemed increasingly awkward and unnecessary. He let his mind turn to more important matters than the length of his inseam.

The fundraiser began at six thirty. That gave them nearly ten hours—more if they were fashionably late—to make their preparations. The plan was simple enough. All Ford needed to do was convince B—Doctor Smith. He’d use the name tonight but he didn’t need to yet. He’d convince Doctor Smith that the two of them were equally unprincipled, and then broach the topic—hypothetically, of course—of where a man might hide a sealskin. And then, well, either it would work or it wouldn’t. There was no sense in trying to plan too far ahead. There were too many ways the future could have splintered by then. It was like trying to trace the edge of a fractal—all those tiny little curves that blossomed out into their own universes if you followed them too far.

Something tightened around his neck. Something cold and hard and—

“I’ve got ways of making you talk! It’s only a matter of—”

“No!”

Ford jerked forward and for a moment the collar tightened, snapping his head back, and then the pressure released and he was free, his hand flying to the blaster at his hip even though it was too small, much too small—

“Ford! Hey!”

Something tightened around his wrist. But it wasn’t shackles. There was give to it, and a familiar shape, a thumb on one side and one-two-three-four fingers on the other and—oh.

Oh.

The world clicked back into place like a slide advancing in a projector. Stan slowly released his hold on Ford’s wrist. Nuala stood frozen, still holding the measuring tape in one hand.

She’d been measuring the circumference of his neck. Of course. And of course he’d panicked and lashed out because he couldn’t even be fitted for a suit without ruining everything—

Stan spoke. “Hey rich kid.”

Pacifica bristled, but she looked almost relieved to have someone to argue with. “You know what my name is, old man.”

“Yeah, sure. Just, uh, why don’t you tell me what else you need and we’ll get back to you. I think my nerdy brother over here needs more coffee so he doesn’t fall asleep on his feet again, yanno?”

Pacifica looked unconvinced, but she shrugged nonetheless and listed off the remaining measurements. Stan scribbled them down, his tongue sticking out between his teeth.

“And get them to me quickly,” the girl snapped. “I haven’t got all day.”

“Thanks, Pacificaaaa!” said Mabel, wrapping her arms around herself the way she always did when she wanted to hug someone at a distance.

Pacifica rolled her eyes. “You’re welcome. I guess. Whatever.”

*

Ford took the neck measurement himself. The tape stretched taut across the band of paler skin that circled his throat while his hands brushed the raised Lichtenberg figure scars that stretched down across his chest almost, but not quite, to his heart.

They had looked like fractals in the days immediately after Weirdmageddon—faint, barely-visible traceries of red branching across his body. But now they were faded. Simplified. Codified. No longer like the blossoming of universes, but like a stemma, a series of imperfect copies built from a million possibilities.

All the possibilities were imperfect, Ford knew. But they never felt that way until they existed and he could see exactly how flawed they were.

He marked the tape with his fingernail and pulled it away until he could read the numbers.

*

The day went by too quickly. Before he knew it Ford was standing in the hotel room they’d rented for the night, his hair damp from the shower and his skin, scars and tattoos and all, scrubbed clean. He pulled the robe tighter around himself and stared at the suit the Northwest girl had picked out for him.

He hadn’t worn a suit since Weirdmageddon.

“You need a hand?” asked Stan. He was sprawled on the other bed, twirling his ridiculous stolen pen between his fingers. “Sorry I can only offer you the one. But hey! After tomorrow this arm can stop being such a slacker.”

Tomorrow. Right. They only had one chance at this. Otherwise Stan would have to go to the hospital alone, and that was unacceptable.

“You’re sure McGucket isn’t gonnna secretly hide a flamethrower in the metal bit or anything?” Stan continued. “If I’m turning into some anime cyborg pirate I should at least know in advance.”

“No flamethrowers,” said Ford. “I promise. You’ll be the world’s most boring cyborg.”

Stan chuckled. “Great. Just what I always wanted.”

He glanced at the clock on the wall and his face scrunched up. “Think we should go check on . . . ?”

He indicated the bathroom door with a toss of his head. Nuala had been inside for a long time. They could hear her singing quietly in a strange, nasal language. The garment bag and boxes of accessories that Pacifica had procured for them—the number seemed excessive, but Ford knew very little about how women dressed—sat unopened on one of the chairs.

He stood and rapped gently on the bathroom door.

“Nuala?”

The noise stopped. “Yes?”

“Um . . . are you decent?”

“At lots of things! What do you mean?”

“It’s  . . . an expression . . .” Ford winced. “Are you ready? Or nearly?”

The door opened and Nuala peered out, her sealskin wrapped tight around her. The handle of Stan’s hairbrush was sticking out of the tangled tresses massed around her shoulders.

“I don’t understand how you make your hair do things,” she said.

“Well maybe you shouldn’t have bitten the hairdresser,” remarked Stan.

“She touched me,” snapped Nuala with a curl of her lip. Ford sympathized.

“Well, you can’t go to a fancy do looking like your hair’s going to eat the cutlery.”

“It should,” muttered Nuala darkly. “I hate cutlery.”

Stan laughed. She stuck her tongue out at him.

“Well, come on then,” said Stan, pointing at one of the chairs. “Let’s fix it.”

Ford left them to it and went into the bathroom to get dressed. He didn’t hear any shouting or snarling, which was a good sign, but he was still surprised when he stepped out and saw Stan gently working a comb through Nuala’s hair. She was smiling, and Stan laughed at whatever she had just said. He’d been expecting . . . well, not carnage per se, but certainly a much tenser scene.

Stan looked up and grinned at him. “Looking good, Poindexter,” he said. “Glad to see you still clean up okay.”

The suit was uncomfortable in the way that anything that wasn’t his usual sweater and coat was uncomfortable, but he had to admit that it fit well. It was just stiff, made him stand tall instead of letting him curl up inside it if he needed to. It smelled new and sterile.

“Grab me the conditioner, would you?” Stan asked. Ford brought it and watched with surprise as Stan slowly worked the product into Nuala’s hair and teased out the knots until it was smooth.

“When did you learn how to do this?” Ford asked.

Stan smiled. “Mabel. Went swimming in the lake and turned her hair into a rat’s nest. I said we should just cut it—lost cause, right? But she wouldn’t stop singing until I sat down and helped her comb it out. Darn kid. There!” He removed the hairbrush and set it to the side. “Now you don’t got an accessory-eating monster on your head. Huh. Come to think about it, maybe that’s an idea I should run by Soos.”

He sat back and stretched his one working arm. “You want it up?”

“Will I look more human?”

Stan considered the wild waves of hair that cascaded down Nuala’s back to pool below her hips. “Probably.”

She gave a small, stiff nod. “Then yes.”

“Can’t do anything fancy,” Stan said. “I’ve been a lot of things in my time, but never a hairdresser. But at least we can braid it.”

Ford, who had been adjusting his tie in the mirror, blinked. “We?”

Stan wiggled his fingers. “I got one hand, genius. Come on.”

It was an odd process and Nuala laughed at them as they argued about how to start. On their first attempt they split the hair unevenly and the braid looked sad and lopsided. On the second, Stan and Ford couldn’t match their tension—the braid curved to the right and Nuala snapped at Ford for pulling too hard. But the third time, as Nuala relaxed and Ford found the rhythm, it was almost soothing. Cross the strand over the middle, pull it snug but not tight, then wait for Stan to do the same and swap off which strand they were holding. There was a rhythm to it. It helped him breathe.

Finally, her braid held in place with a piece of knotted twine, Nuala gathered up her things and went to get dressed. Ford sat on the bed and pressed the receiver into his ear. Nuala would be wearing the ring this time, they’d decided. It was more . . . fitting for the roles they were playing.

Stan nudged Ford with his uninjured arm. “Hey. You all right?”

“I’m fine.” Maybe if he said it enough it would turn out to be true. There were universes like that, where reality bent and twisted around spoken words and the native populations sang their cities into existence. But here the words fell flat and lifeless.

“Okay,” said Stan. “Sure. But, uh, somebody once told me that it’s okay not to be all right. And I think maybe he had a point. Just saying.”

Ford breathed in deeply and then let it out. One-two-three-four-five-six.

“I appreciate your concern,” he said. “But it’s misplaced, I assure you.”

Stan shrugged lopsidedly. “Suit yourself. Or don’t. I mean, technically you had to get suited by a preteen because you don’t know anything about clothes.”

“Ha ha.”

From the bathroom, they could hear Nuala arguing with Mabel on speakerphone. “There’s no point to these socks! You can see through them and they don’t have any colors!”

“Just . . . be careful, all right?” said Stan.

“I’m always careful,” Ford said.

Stan laid a hand on his back. “Ford. Bro. Don’t lie to me. I know you, and I don’t think you’ve ever been careful in your life.”

“Then what’s the point of insisting that I try?”

“I don’t know. Wishful thinking?”

More dialogue drifted out from the bathroom. “And you wear these all the time? What is wrong with your species?”

“I guess . . .” Stan fell back onto the bed, staring up at the ceiling tiles. “Remember that this isn’t a solo mission. Nuala might not be able to use a fork, but she could take someone out.”

“And I can use both forks and firearms,” said Ford. “We’ll be fine. I’ve handled much more dangerous missions on my own.”

“And how many of those didn’t end up with you hog-tied and thrown in Space Jail?” asked Stan. “I’ve done more dangerous things on my own, too, but they sucked. Even when I did make it out okay. I’m . . . look, I’m not saying you can’t do this on your own. It’s just . . . it’s nice that you don’t have to.”

The suit was perfectly hemmed and there were no loose threads for him to pick at. Ford dug his hands into the paisley-patterned blanket stretched across the bed and twisted a corner of it between his fingers.

*

It felt like only a few minutes before Mabel called Stan’s phone to let them know that Nuala was ready.

“She’s very nervous and a little bitey, so be careful,” Mabel warned them. “Also we had to lie about how women’s clothing works, so pretend that you’re super uncomfortable and don’t have any pockets, okay? Don’t worry I know it’s gonna be great love you byeeeee!”

Nuala didn’t respond to the first knock. After the second, Ford tried the handle and gently pushed the door open.

Nuala was standing in front of the mirror, still as a figurehead. She looked out of place against the white tiles and the harsh fluorescent light, like a looted artifact on display in a far-away museum.

The girls had done their job well. Nuala’s dress was made of some deep blue-gray fabric that turned to lace at her knees. The back and the sleeves and the neck were white lace, delicate as sea foam. Her earrings dangled and dazzled like they were trying to hide the fact that they were clip-ons, and she wore a heavy silver chain around her neck. Ford’s eyes should have been drawn to the pendant that hung from it, but he found himself staring at the chain instead. It wasn’t tight, but still he wished that he could just unfasten it and fling it away.

“Lookin’ good, kid,” said Stan from behind him.

Nuala jumped. “I am . . . nervous,” she admitted.

“It’ll be fine,” said Stan. “You look beautiful.”

Nuala stared at her reflection in the mirror. She touched her hair, the long braid they’d tamed her wild tresses into, the neckline of her dress and the heavy pendant dangling from her throat.

“I don’t want to look beautiful,” she said quietly. “I want to look like me.”

*

Stan made sure to give Ford his Mabel Hug for the day before they headed out. It still wasn’t quite as tight as Mabel herself would manage, but it was tighter and longer than usual.

“I’ll be fine,” Ford said, his face crushed against his brother’s good shoulder.

“You’d better be!” Stan gave a final squeeze and then stepped away, clapping Ford on the back.

“Nuala, I’m counting on you to look after this nerd, okay?”

“Got it!” The selkie headbutted Stan’s shoulder in affirmation.

“And I want you to take these, just in case.”

He produced a set of brass knuckles and slipped them into the purse Nuala had slung over her shoulder. Ford suspected that Mabel had been behind that particular purchase—it was shaped like a surprised-looking fish and had scales made of glass beads and sequins.

“Don’t worry,” Stan said before Ford could protest, “They’re my best pair. Totally reasonable accessory for a fancy shindig like this.”

Ford decided that it wasn’t worth arguing over.

*

The next thing he knew their taxi was pulling up outside the aquarium. Ford tapped his fingers across his knees. One-two-three-four-five-six, over and over again.

“You give her the ring yet?” came Stan’s voice in his ear.

Right. That. He’d been putting it off—foolish, since it was their lifeline if anything went wrong—but it made the charade seem more real. He knew they were only pretending, but still, it felt like another chain. Like a contract that he was on the wrong side of.

He took the pirate ring from his breast pocket and turned to Nuala.

“Your hand?”

She offered him both of them. It took her a moment to relax enough that he could slip the communicator onto the ring finger of her left hand.

Nuala wrinkled her nose. “It feels wrong,” she said.

“I know,” said Ford, pulling his hands away and running a thumb along the scar tissue at his wrists. “I know.”

*

The venue was . . .

Big. Big and bright and full of people and full of noise. Ford searched desperately for a corner while Nuala stood stiff at his side, holding on to his arm with all her might. He suspected her grip would leave bruises. He didn’t care.

He piloted them through the crowd toward the balcony at the far end of the room, snatching a drink from the tray of a passing waiter as they went by. He’d meant for it to be a simple prop, something to keep his hands busy, but before they were through the balcony doors he found that he’d already downed it.

No matter. Perhaps it would calm his nerves.

Or perhaps it would ruin everything. He could already feel the evening branching out of his control, likes cracks spreading in a sheet of ice.

There wasn’t much he could do. Just hold on to the best timeline he could make and not let go. There were universes where this worked, Ford was certain. He just needed to make sure that he was in one of those.

They’d made their way to the railing and were leaning over, Nuala taking in great gulps of sea air from the harbor. He could feel her relax as the salt spray brushed her skin.

If only it were that easy for him. He could feel the prickle of watching eyes—and of course there were people watching, that was what happened in a crowd!—and had to fight the urge to spin around so he could keep them all in his sights.

He wished he’d been able to bring his blaster. He felt naked without the familiar weight at his hip. He felt lost without the weapon to ground him. Without any of the things he usually had to ground him. His blaster. His sweater. His coat.

His brother.

But Nuala was there, and she was squeezing his arm, not with the death grip she’d used earlier but with a steady pressure that should have been comforting. And she was saying something—something about going back inside—and Ford tried to smile and nod at her, tried to turn and steel himself and brave the noise and the light and the eyes for her sake if nothing else—

The empty glass fell from his hand and tumbled over the railing. He’d forgotten that he’d been holding it. It fell as if in slow motion into the harbor below, glinting in the light, until it entered the water and disappeared with barely a splash.

“Um,” said Nuala. “Just checking—is that something we’re supposed to do?”

Ford shook his head. “No, no—it was an accident. Ignore it.”

She looked disappointed that throwing glassware into the harbor wasn’t a normal part of high society, and Ford supposed that he couldn’t blame her. It would certainly be more entertaining than the interminable small talk they’d have to endure.

But lurking on the balcony wasn’t what they were here for.

He turned, and braced himself, and entered the fray.

*

He could pretend. Sometimes. For a moment. He could pretend until whoever he was talking to asked about Nuala, and then he had to remember who he was playing.

At least he’d gotten some practice in before Doctor Smith arrived.

Ford would have recognized him even without Serinam by his side. His thin, severe face looked exactly like the photograph that Dipper had found. Everything about him was exacting, from the cut of his beard to the cut of his suit. Ford found himself suddenly grateful for Pacifica’s insistence on the quality of his own suit; Doctor Smith didn’t look like he would give the time of day to someone in ill-fitting clothing.

Ford set down the glass he was holding and laid a hand on Nuala’s shoulder. She’d been facing the balcony, and as she turned he heard the sharp intake of her breath. For a moment she locked eyes with Serinam, and then the other selkie looked away.

Nuala took his arm. There was no doubt by now that he had bruises forming. Ford leaned into the pain, let it ground him. He tried to hide the emotion in his eyes. It had been too long since he’d needed to act like this. Not just pretending he was fine when he wasn’t—that was automatic and instinctive and had been a habit for as long as he could remember. But just . . . not letting himself feel things. Locking them away in the back of his mind with the other things he couldn’t dwell on. That was harder.

He plastered on a smile and stepped forward.

Doctor Smith noticed Nuala before he noticed Ford. His eyebrows rose momentarily, and then he smiled, tight and smug and predatory.

Bill Cipher hadn’t had a mouth, but if he had he would have smiled just like that when Ford first ran to confront him. He would have smiled just like that when he plucked Ford from the rubble of the tower after his shot went wide. He would have smiled just like that the first time he saw Ford sleeping, an eager little pawn ripe for the taking.

And Ford wasn’t afraid. There was no room in his head to be afraid, no room for anything except the hot, boiling rage that filled him so completely he was sure he must have smoke pouring off his shoulders as he forced himself, excruciatingly, to smile back.

Doctor Smith crossed over to them so Ford didn’t have to move, didn’t have to worry that if he released the tension in any of his joints his fist would fly of its own accord right into the center that horrible, horrible smile.

Not yet. Not yet. He had to stay calm. Had to pretend. He’d lied to Bill Cipher in the end, hadn’t he? He’d lied to Atlantis. He could lie to Doctor Smith.

“Pardon me, but I don’t believe I’ve had the pleasure . . . ?”

There he was, right in front of them.

“No,” said Ford. “I don’t believe you have.”

“. . . Well,” said Doctor Smith after a pause. “I’m Bill Smith, and this ravishing creature is my wife Sarah.” He smiled indulgently at Serinam. “Isn’t she beautiful?”

Some response seemed expected, so Ford nodded. “Yes.” Most people would probably have meant it, but Ford remembered the heartbroken look on Nuala’s face.

“You gotta introduce yourself, bro,” came Stan’s voice in his ear.

Right.

“Dr. Stanford Pines. Pleased to meet you.” He felt like he might choke on the words.

Dr. Smith held out a hand and Ford bit the inside of his lower lip as he took it. He’d avoided handshakes when he could, even before . . . even before Bill Cipher. There, he could say it.

Bill Smith had a firm handshake and long, slender fingers, and the handshake meant nothing except perhaps, apocryphally, as a demonstration that both parties were unarmed. What a lie that could be.

As Ford drew his hand back, Dr, Smith caught and held it.

“Oh, do excuse me. May I?”

Ford looked across at Serinam. He was hardly the most anomalous out of the group that night, or the most likely to be dehumanized for it. He nodded.

Dr. Smith turned Ford’s hand over in his own, flexing his fingers and gently squeezing his knuckles. The touch filled him with a crawling horror entirely out of scale with what was actually happening.

“Fascinating!” said Dr. Smith at last. “Fully functional postaxial polydactyly! I’m not sure I’ve ever seen an extra digit so well integrated! Do you have full range of motion?”

Ford rolled his fingers while Dr. Smith watched, then hid his hand behind his back.

“Oh, I apologize, you must think me incredibly rude! I didn’t even let you finish introducing yourselves! And who is this lovely lady here?”

Ford swallowed. Mirrored Dr. Smith’s smile as best as he could. Leaned into his friend as if asking for forgiveness.

“My fiancée, Nuala.”

“Charmed, I’m sure,” said Dr. Smith. He took Nuala’s hand in his and raised it to kiss her fingertips. She shot Ford a look of pure panic and gripped his arm tighter. Ford kept his expression carefully blank, but squeezed back.

“How long have you been, ah . . .” There was that smile again as he looked Nuala up and down. “. . . Engaged?”

“Not long,” Ford replied. “We met when I was doing research in Labrador. We’ve only been back on the mainland for a few weeks.”

“What type of research?”

“My work is focused on . . . anomalous phenomena. Investigating the scientific nature behind strange tales . . . legends . . . folklore . . .”

“Ah.” Dr. Smith smiled and smiled and Ford bit his tongue to keep from screaming. “I dabble in such areas myself. Not my main area of study—I focus on North Atlantic pinnipeds—but Sarah here has such a personal connection to the folklore. Since we met I admit I’ve found the field quite . . . captivating. She really opened my eyes.”

A muscle twitched in Serinam’s neck as she stared woodenly at the floor. Apart from those first few seconds of eye contact with Nuala, she’d barely looked up.

“What about yours? Does she share your passion for the unexplained?”

“Nuala has little interest in academics, I’m afraid,” Ford found himself saying.

“Oh, I’m sure she makes up for it in other ways,” said Dr. Smith with a smirk. “Brains aren’t everything.”

“Indeed!” replied Ford vehemently, certain that the thing he was agreeing with wasn’t actually what Dr. Smith had meant and equally certain that he wasn’t going to let himself think about it.

“Calm down, bro,” said Stan in his ear. It was comforting to have his brother’s voice muttering to him, drowning out the sounds of his own thoughts. “You can punch him later. I know you’re thinking it cause I’m thinking it too. Just take your time.”

Ford snatched a bite-sized pastry from the tray of a passing waiter. Nuala reached out to take one of her own and Dr. Smith pursed his lips and frowned at her. Without breaking eye contact, she grabbed two of the pastries and shoved them into her mouth. Ford was grateful they’d been able to convince Mabel and Pacifica not to introduce the selkie to makeup.

Now Dr. Smith was looking at him disapprovingly, almost pityingly.

“Nuala!” Ford snapped. “No more!”

She bared her teeth, about to shoot back some angry remark before she remembered and lowered her head.

“It does take a considerable amount of time and resources to train an ambassador animal,” said Dr. Smith calmly, the apparent non-sequitur belied by the curl of his lip as he looked at Nuala. “Of course, some are more co-operative than others.”

“You seem to have experience of your own,” said Ford. “Maybe we could discuss it? Or at least compare notes on our respective folklore research.”

“Absolutely!” said Dr. Smith. “I have several other groups to check in with, but then . . . perhaps we could retire to my office with a little of this very fine wine and have a chat. And I’m sure that Sarah and . . . what was her name again?”

“Nuala.”

“Nuala! Of course. I’m sure that Sarah and Nuala can find plenty to talk about. I remember when we first were married, how difficult she found it to acclimate to the mainland. But everything’s perfect now, isn’t it darling?”

“Yes, dear,” said Serinam. “Perfect.”

*

Ford enjoyed more than a little of the very fine wine as they waited for Dr. Smith to return from his rounds. It was probably a terrible idea. He decided that he didn’t care. As the alcohol took hold of him the fractal patterns of the multiverse blurred away until he was left with only the present and the liquid, honeyed glow of the future. Future, singular. Whatever happened, he only had the one.

He snuck appetizers to Nuala, too sure that they were being watched to let her take them on her own. He’d take one from every tray they passed and then palm it off to her when no one was looking. It was the only apology he could manage under the circumstances.

“It’s okay, you know,” she muttered to him as they took another break on the balcony. “Do whatever you need to make Billsmith like you until Serinam’s safe, and then you can help me eat him.”

“Um,” said Ford. “Pass. But thank you. But cannibalism really isn’t in my plans for the evening.”

Stan laughed in his ear.

“Suit yourself,” Nuala growled, biting into a canape.

*

If it had belonged to anyone else, Dr. Smith’s office would have been comforting. It was full of the clutter of academia—overflowing bookcases and post-it-covered papers with chunks of bone and baleen used as paperweights. Even with his limited computing knowledge, Ford could tell the clunky monitor on the desk was an old model. The ancient conference stickers were beginning to peel off its grimy sides, and the keyboard balanced precariously on a stack of manilla folders. The top drawer of the flat files in the corner sat half-open, revealing oversized charts and sounding maps.

It was cozy. Or it would have been, if it weren’t for the man there with him.

“So, Stan,” said Dr. Smith, pointing him to the desk chair. “Do you go by . . . ?”

“Stanford,” said Ford, taking a seat. He and Stan had discussed the possibility of pseudonyms, of introducing himself as Stan or Filbrick or something that was even less him, but Ford had protested. He’d have to tell enough lies already. As Stan always said, you used as much of the truth as you could. Used as much of yourself as you could. Compartmentalized. Ford was Nuala’s friend. Stanford—Dr. Stanford Pines, PhD—could be removed. Not the way that Dr. Smith was, never like that, but close enough to pretend.

“Fair enough.” Dr. Smith extricated the office’s other chair from the mounds of books and dragged it over. He fixed Ford with a fascinated grin. “So tell me, Stanford. How did you manage to land a selkie?”

Ford took the glass of wine he was offered. “How does anyone? Location. Research. Luck. I caught her sleeping. She nearly savaged me when she woke, but I’d already gotten her skin in safe-keeping, so I came away with only a few minor scars.”

Dr. Smith laughed and clapped him on the back. Ford fought back a shudder.

“Luck is right! You know, I wasn’t even looking for them when I left on the expedition. Didn’t think they were real. It was Sarah, if you can believe it, who found me! Said she wanted to make a difference. Study science, save the ocean. And here’s the best part; she gave up her skin herself! She wanted to follow me but she was worried about getting it through customs. Well, you know how closely regulated marine mammal parts are in this country. It was easy to take it back with the rest of our samples and then hold onto it for safe-keeping.”

“Safe-keeping?”

Dr. Smith chuckled. “Well . . . safe-keeping, study. They’re not that different, really.”

“So if she asked, would you give it . . . ?”

Ford knew the answer, but he still had to ask. Dr. Smith cackled. “Of course not! Are you mad? Lose a wife and a research subject in one fell swoop just because she asked? She hardly does anymore, anyway. You know, it was months before she even suspected.”

Doing his best to ignore the stream of increasingly creative invective in his ear and the sting of bile in his throat, Ford paused and took a sip of the wine.

“It sounds like a much smoother start than my situation, certainly,” he said.

Dr. Smith waved a hand dismissively. “She’ll come around. I’ll be very interested to see your data. Especially long-term; Sarah insists that humans and selkies can’t have children together, but I don’t know if I believe her.” He raised one eyebrow. “See how it works out for you. The possibilities for study with an inter-species child—”

Ford choked on his wine.

In a way it was a blessing, he thought as he doubled over. It gave him an excuse to hide his face.

“It’s okay,” came Stan’s comforting voice. “It’s okay it’s okay it’s okay. We’re gonna get you all out of there and then we’re gonna make that bastard wish he was never born. Yeah, that’s it, kid.”

He must be responding to Nuala as well. Ford knew she was close, close enough for the pirate ring to pick up Dr. Smith’s words. He’d need to be careful when they left.

He straightened up, still coughing into the sleeve of his suit.

“I had no idea that the thought of procreation was so alarming to you,” said Dr. Smith with a smirk.

Ford did his best to return the expression, sure he was ending up with something more like a death rictus.

“As I said, I’m early in the process of assimilation. Nuala is . . . temperamental. If she ever finds her skin . . . well, I hope you’re able to find my reports since I most likely won’t be around to send them.”

“All the more reason for you to hide it well.”

Ford drained the dregs of his glass and set it on the desk beside him.

“Perhaps that’s one thing you can help me with. She’s tenacious. I keep it under lock and key, but sometimes I wonder if it’s enough. What precautions do you take?”

“You’re asking me where I keep it?”

“How you keep it, at least.” Ford thought his voice sounded steady enough, even as the hand Dr. Smith couldn’t see drummed rapidly on his thigh. One-two-three-four-five-six, over and over.

“I’m sure you’re aware of how imperative it is that this remain a secret,” said Dr. Smith. “For both of our sakes. There are others, even other men of science, whose fear of the unknown and obsession with the petty façade of morality would prevent them from understanding.”

“Of course,” said Ford, while in his ear Stan muttered, “Please someone break this chump’s nose for me, I’m begging ya.”

Dr. Smith smiled and poured Ford another glass. “And where do you keep Nuala’s skin?”

“There’s a safe built into the floor of my boat.” He sipped his wine and fed the other man imaginary details until he seemed satisfied.

“And you?”

“Well,” said Dr. Smith. “The best place to hide a book is in a library.”

There followed an extended shuffling of keys—one from Dr. Smith’s pocket, which unlocked a desk drawer containing a huge ring of keys, one of which unlocked yet another drawer, and then finally, with a small and pointed key that looked like it could have belonged to a post office box, Dr. Smith unlocked the lowest of the flat file drawers.

It was filled with sealskins.

“Which one—”

“You can’t tell, can you? That’s the impressive part.” His eyes flashed. “I ran a DNA test on it as soon as we got back and it came back 100% harp seal. Ran one on Sarah, too, and it said 100% human.”

“Well, yes, magic isn’t encoded in DNA,” said Ford. “It’s an entirely separate system! The scientific instruments in this dimension don’t pick it up at all! What you need—”

Stan was shouting at him to shut up and Dr. Smith was looking at him hungrily. Ford clamped his mouth shut and panicked.

“What I need?”

“Oh, well, it doesn’t matter. It’s entirely hypothetical. I was just . . . carried away by scientific excitement and said something that is not true! It happens. Occasionally.”

Dr. Smith stood and stalked towards him, smiling the same way he’d smiled at Nuala. Ford was frozen in place. One chance, one future, and he’d messed it all up. Ruined everything because he didn’t know when to just stop talking.

Bill Smith grabbed Ford by his wrists and pinned them to the arms of the chair, his grip tight and his nails digging into the flesh of Ford’s arms. He stepped uncomfortably close until his impeccable suit and his predatory smile was all Ford could see, and then he leaned in further to meet his eyes.

“Why, Doctor Pines,” he said. “I do believe there are some rather crucial things that you’re not telling me.”

[minijenn]

Universe Falls Chapter 58

Wooooo here we go with The Last Mabelcorn, finally! You can’t imagine how long I’ve wanted to write this chapter and here it finally is for you to read and enjoy! I’m quite proud of it and I honestly don’t have a ton else to say outside of that so I suppose there’s nothing keeping us from diving right in! Let’s get started!

Previous: http://minijenn.tumblr.com/post/177662322439/universe-falls-chapter-57-part-2

Chapter 58: The Last Mabelcorn

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With Dipper and Mabel spending the night up at the temple with Steven and the Gems in light of their ongoing quest to release Malachite, the Mystery Shack was even quieter than it usually was in the deep, dark, dead of night. Though Stan had turned in for the night at a reasonable hour, it had taken Ford much longer to pull himself away from his ongoing research in the basement. By the time the author finally did trudge up to his old room, it was quite late and as a result, he was quite tired. Though he was now thirty years removed from his extensive bout of paranoid insomnia, there were times every now and again when Ford would stubbornly resist the lull of a full night’s sleep out of fear of what might lie in wait in the often unpredictable world of nightmares. This particular, night, however, wasn’t anywhere close to one of those cases, for almost as soon as the author’s head hit the pillow, he was out, fast asleep and promptly thrust into the dreaming state he so often tried to avoid.

Or rather, into what was very soon about to become yet another nightmare, one that seemed to refuse to end even 30 years after it had first begun.

When Ford opened his eyes, he was quite caught off guard to find himself not back in the peaceful darkness of the room he had fallen asleep in, but rather he was standing amidst a vast, arid field of tall, ripe stalks of wheat. This curious expanse seemed to stretch on for miles, only broken by three landmarks afar off in the distance: an aged and broken swing set, a dilapidated, half-rebuilt boat, and the ruined remains of a certain portal looming large and inactive on the horizon. The author took pause as he glanced around his odd, new surroundings, though he didn’t have much of a chance to make sense of them. Completely out of nowhere, the wheat surrounding Ford suddenly began to flatten itself out into a shape that the author knew all too well. A shape that was, of course, accompanied by the maniacal cackling of a demon, a demon Ford had hoped in vain that he’d never encounter again.

“I know that laugh…” the author growled, his hands already curling into tight, defensive fists, just in case. “Show yourself!”

Right on cue, the demon did just that, his triangular form materializing right from the imprint of himself he had made in the wheat as he sharply rose to float right behind Ford, his sinister laughter continuing all the while. “Well, well, well, well, well, well, well!” he quipped brightly, splitting up into several smaller versions of himself as they all cheerfully circled the quite unamused author. “Aren’t you a sight for sore eye! Stanford Filbrick Pines! My old pal! It’s good to finally see ya in the flesh instead of on all those wanted posters I had put out for you during your little stint in the multiverse. Those sure were some fun times, huh, Sixer?”

Ford wisely chose to ignore his longtime foe’s callous taunting, more than used to them by now as he sent the demon a cold, distrustful glare. “Bill Cipher…” he stiffly acknowledged, countless years of ire and hatred dripping into his tone. “What do you want from me? I already told you more than once that I want nothing more to do with you!”

“Oh, quit playing dumb, IQ!” one of the several Bills mocked knowingly. “You knew I’d be back! And boy, have I been busy… Heck, right before I dropped by here, I nearly snagged the deal of a lifetime with some kid you may or may know. But oh well, its not like he can really hold onto that space rock of his for too much longer since its already mine anyway!”

“Kid?” Ford questioned in alarmed confusion, wondering what poor child could have possibly been subjected to Bill’s cruel tricks. “Who did you-”

“Eh, forget it, Sixer, all that business is soooo two chapters ago,” Bill interjected with a flippant wave of his hand as his many doubles all merged back into one. “What I actually stopped by for was to tall you that you must not be that much of a ‘genius’ after all if you think shutting down that portal could really stop what I have planned! Like I said, I’ve been making deals, chatting with old friends, preparing for the big day! You can’t keep that rift safe forever…” With a single snap of his fingers, the interdimensional rift appeared floating above the demon’s palm, its amorphous, glimmering substance still safely contained within its protective globe, though not for long. “You don’t have good ol’ Quartzy around anymore to bail you out this time, Sixer! You’ll slip up sooner or later, and when you do…” As Bill trailed off, he suddenly slammed the rift hard onto the ground, its very breaking violently tearing open a nightmarish hole through the otherwise smoggy skies and igniting the wheat field in a burst of bright crimson fire all around the author. Yet even despite this horrific display, Ford refused to let Bill get the better of him this time; after all, he had already accomplished that more than enough countless times in the past.

“Get out of here!” the author shouted fiercely, wishing he could put an end to the demon’s twisted ambitions right then and there. “You have no dominion in our world!”

“Maybe not right now,” Bill began, his eye turning black as he began to ascend into the chasm of untold horrors and nightmares he wanted to unleash upon the world. “But things change, Stanford Pines! Things CHANGE!”

On this final, ominous proclamation, the demon departed, laughing wickedly all the while as he thoughtlessly left Ford to burn in the field, awash with fear over the dreadful threats he had just heard. Fortunately though, the author wasn’t left to such a terrible fate as he was instead met with quick flashes of three very distinct images: his own six-fingered hand, a set of runes containing various unknown symbols, all of them surrounding a visage of Bill himself, and finally, four bright, vibrant diamonds, one white, one blue, one yellow, and one pink, arranged together and positioned against the backdrop of a distant, foreign planet that seemed to be crumbling apart at the seams.

And on that, the author sharply awoke, his nightmare over. For now, at least.

Even so, Ford bolted upright on the couch that served as his bed, his entire body covered in a cold sweat as he tried to catch his breath amidst his current panic. The fact that Bill Cipher, of all beings, had suddenly shown up in his dreams was concerning enough, but even worse were the frightening implications he had left behind. Before, the author had only ever assumed that the demon would target the rift, but now, there was no doubt whatsoever. Bill wanted that rift and if he got his hands on it, then the entire world, no, the entire universe, would certainly face untold destruction and devastation. He’d be all-powerful, unstoppable, and completely and utterly merciless to anyone who ever dared to try and get in his way. Which was why Ford knew that he had to stop this disaster before it even had a chance to begin. He had to put an end to Bill’s plans before they could come anywhere close to reaching fruition, there simply was no other option. But unlike last time he had made such a bold, dangerous attempt, the author wasn’t about to undertake such a risky venture on his own this time. He had learned his lesson and seen his folly in trying to walk this path alone 30 years ago. And as far as he was concerned, that wasn’t a mistake he was about to make again.

“I have to warn them…” Ford muttered to himself as he finally began to calm down, even though Bill’s haunting warnings still rung in his mind as loudly as ever. “He’s coming…”

A cloud of solemn anxiousness hung over Steven, Dipper, and Mabel alike as they departed from the temple the following morning, their minds still equally focused on worrying thoughts of a certain demon and his malicious intentions, whatever those might be. The Gems had sent them off quite early on, encouraging them to relax for the day and try to find some way to take their thoughts off Bill, even if it was very likely they didn’t intend to do the same themselves.

Still, none of the kids argued with them as they set out for the shack, running into Connie halfway down the hill as she had been going up to meet them. Despite the Gems’ advising them to focus on other things, neither Steven, Dipper, nor Mabel were able to keep themselves from telling Connie all about the events of the previous night, including both Steven’s alarming encounter with Bill in his dreams, as well as their nightmarish confrontation the Gems had with the demon themselves over twenty years ago. Needless to say that after hearing such a disconcerting account, Connie herself was every bit as shaken as the other three kids were to know that Bill was still out there somewhere, still plotting to harm them all, if not worse. Which was why the conversation was still very much focused on the demon, even as the kids made it back down to the shack to try and ‘relax’, even if there was a slim chance such a thing would even end up happening.

“So… even the Gems don’t know how get rid of Bill once and for all?” Connie asked, her voice kept rather low as the four of them wandered down the hall.

“No…” Steven sighed, rubbing his arm apprehensively. “They said the most we can do for now is just make sure we don’t fall for any more of his tricks, but… I don’t know how long that’ll really work for…”

“Probably not too long, seeing as how he’ll lie to just about anyone to get what he wants,” Dipper remarked quite bitterly, clearly quite frustrated with the situation at large. “It’s just… you’d think there’d be some way to keep Bill from messing with us anymore, at least. I mean, how are we supposed to figure out a way to stop him if we can’t even keep him from showing up in our dreams any time he wants?!”

“W-well, even if the Gems don’t know what to do right now, m-maybe they’ll figure something out eventually,” Mabel assured with a weak smile, hoping to, if nothing else, reassure her clearly on-edge brother about the concerning situation. “For now though, we should probably just drop the whole Bill thing and relax like they told us to.” Her smile widened somewhat as she pulled open a nearby closet door. “Why don’t we see if Grunkle Stan has any decent board games lyin’ around here? Huh? Huh? Come on, you three, don’t hold out on me. Steven, I know you’re always up for a good round of Latzee.”

Steven, Dipper, and Connie all briefly exchanged tentative glances at this, all three of them still rather worried about the situation with Bill, but even so, they knew there wasn’t really much that could be done about it now. Wasting their thoughts and energy on it at the moment wouldn’t really produce anything but more dread and woe, things that the kids largely wanted to be free of after the harrowing night they just had. Which was why Steven was the first to perk up somewhat, stepping forward into the closet to take a look at what the stack of old games before them had to offer.

“Hm, let’s see here… ‘Battlechutes & Ladderships’, ‘Necronomiconopoly’, ‘Don’t Wake Stalin’…”

“Oh, what’s this one?” Connie grabbed an interesting-looking jungle themed box from the pile. “‘What Could Go Wrong? The Board Game. The last players who opened this box never made it out alive!’”

A beat of silence passed between the kids at this, but even so, they were all quick to reach largely the same conclusion.

“Well, I know what we’re doing today!”

“Yeah, this should take up the next half hour or so.”

“Sounds like fun!”

“Can’t be too bad, right?”

However, before the kids could even leave the closet to set the game up to play, their plans were instantly dashed as they heard Ford’s stark, urgent call coming from the kitchen. “Family meeting! Family meeting!”

Needless to say all four of the kids were somewhat surprised to hear Ford of all people, call for a so-called ‘family meeting’. But even so they were quite curious to hear what apparently serious demand was all about, which was why they put the game aside to hurry off to hear whatever it was the author had to say.

Meanwhile, unbeknownst to any of the kids, Amethyst had hurried down from the temple to the shack herself, surprisingly not because of anything remotely pertaining to what happened last night, but rather to make good on her promise to help Stan with a certain, rather illegal smuggling deal. “Alright, Santiago,” the conman remarked gruffly to the Spanish man him and Amethyst were passing off a sizable truckload of young pugs off to. “You have 24 hours to get these pugs over the U.S border.”

“And you better not… you know, no lo jodas this time either!” Amethyst snapped with a knowing scowl. “O de lo contrario lo vas a conseguir!”

“Yeah, what she said,” Stan remarked, though he did raise his eyebrow somewhat over the purple Gem’s rather crude use of language. However, before the exchange could properly end, Ford’s call for a family meeting rung out from inside the shack, startling the trio and cutting their illegal operation short as Stan swiftly shoved the last barrel of pugs into the back of Santiago’s truck before shoving him off.

“No te preocupas!” Stan shouted urgently as Amethyst kept a close lookout so they wouldn’t get caught as the truck sped off. “Vamos! Vamos!”

With Stan and Amethyst as busy avoiding the law as they were, it wasn’t surprising that they decided to avoid Ford’s meeting, though the kids were right on time to it, venturing into the kitchen just as the author was finishing setting up his copious array of scrolls, notes, and books. “Ah, children,” he greeted tersely, only briefly glancing over his shoulder as they arrived. “Come in, come in! Do any of you know if any of the Gems can make it down here within the next… minute or so? This is a very important discussion that I doubt they’ll want to miss out on.”

“Uh, w-well, actually… the Gems are kind of… busy today,” Steven replied, knowing this was both a truth and a lie in that, as far as they knew, they were still up at the temple, thinking about what to do to stop Bill. “We sort of had a… rough night last night…”

“Hm, you’re not the only ones…” Ford muttered to himself as he glanced away. “All the same, I suppose we can always pass this warning off to them sometime later.”

“Warning?” Connie spoke up with a worried frown. “What warning?”

“Does it have anything to do with these mysterious scrolls and potions?” Mabel asked curiously as she began rummaging through the author’s possessions. “Are you going to tell us we’re finally of age to go to wizard school? Is there an owl in this bag?!”

“No,” Ford interjected, quickly taking his bag away from her as his manner seemed to grow even more serious than it already was. “I can assure you that if there is an owl in this bag, then he’s long dead. Now, what I have called you children here for today is by far more pressing and urgent. Do any of you recognize this symbol?” At this, the author held up a weathered old scroll, one covered in ancient script and arcane text, though the triangular being emblazoned, large and dark and menacing on its center was one that all four of the kids knew the instant they saw it.

A round of frightened gasps escaped all four of the kids at the same exact time, each of them feeling as though they had been thrust right back into that horrific puppet show weeks ago. Connie quickly tore her gaze away from the scroll, as if simply looking at it would somehow summon the demon forth from it. Steven choked out another smaller gasp, one hand against his heart as it hammered away in his chest while his other was pressed close to his stomach, or rather his gem, protectively. Mabel latched a hand down onto her brother’s shoulder so fast that it normally would have startled him but instead Dipper only stared, his face pale and his eyes wide as he barely managed to even get the demon’s name out in so much as a weak, frightened whisper. “B-Bill…”

Ford flinched, quite taken aback by the kids’ initial reaction alone as he looked back to the scroll with growing alarm. “You… you know him?”

None of the kids offered an immediate answer save for Connie, who only gave one in the form of a small, anxious, silent nod. As for the other three, Steven tightened his grip around his gemstone, the vicious threats the demon had issues against him just a few hours prior ringing in his head as loudly as ever before. At the same time, Mabel’s focus remained on Dipper as she prepared to offer him whatever comfort and support he might need but in light of both his growing distress and his growing frustration he was hard pressed to accept any such sentiments now.

“I-it just won’t end, will it?” Dipper began, his tone quiet yet harsh as he shook his head incredulously. “First there was what happened last night with the Gems, and now this? Why won’t he just quit already?!”

“Dipper-” Mabel attempted to interject, though her brother was far too upset to back down now, especially as he got up to pace around frenetically.

“I was right last night after all,” Dipper continued, angry and anxiously as he largely talked to himself, even as the others all watched him with growing concern. “A-and I was right even before that! This isn’t over! Heck, maybe it never will be! He’ll just keep showing up and messing with us and lying to us and forcing us to play his games and there’s no way to stop him or get rid of him a-and it’ll just keep happening over and over again until he-”

“Dipper!” He finally cut himself off with a sharp gasp, stopping in his tracks under the weight of Ford’s firm, steadying hand on his shoulder. The author’s expression was initially fraught with palpable worry and dread, which quickly shifted into untold remorse before finally settling on what almost looked like grave, yet muted fury. “He… he possessed you, didn’t he?”

Dipper flinched at this, quickly averting his uncle’s gaze out of slight fear of how he might react to the truth of the matter. After all, the last thing he wanted was to admit such a momentous failure to the author he practically idolized and looked up to without question; the thought of disappointing him with his own shortcomings alone was enough to bring him more shame than he really knew how to deal with. But even despite his lack of a concrete answer, it was clear to see that Ford had inferred one anyway as he rose to stand, closing his eyes and letting out a long, almost tired sigh, one that gave really no indication of any sort of react at all.

“G-Great Uncle Ford,” Dipper began, his former frustration gone and replaced with obvious nervousness instead. “I… I just-”

“It wasn’t Dipper’s fault!” Steven suddenly interjected, tears already starting to well up in his eyes as everyone turned to look at him. “B-Bill tricked him! H-he lied to him and then he took his body a-and I was there for the whole thing and I wasn’t able to stop it a-and I couldn’t even tell anyone about it ‘cause he said he’d hurt Dipper’s body a-and I was so afraid and confused and we almost didn’t stop him in time but-”

“But we did,” Connie interjected as calmly as she could, taking Steven’s hand reassuringly as Mabel did the same for Dipper. “And that’s what’s important here.”

“So the four of you… ‘defeated’ him…” Ford mused, though his tone conveyed a hint of doubt in this fact. Still, he didn’t voice that doubt as he met all four of the kids’ fretful expressions evenly enough. “Even so, the fact that you kids have dealt with Bill before is gravely serious.”

“So… you know Bill too, Grunkle Ford?” Mabel asked, anxiously curious.

“Too?” the author frowned, confused.

“Uh, well, l-last night the Gems told us about how Bill tricked them before too…” Steven admitted somewhat hesitantly. “Mom even had to fight them to get him out of him. I-it was-”

“Oh yes, I already know about all that,” Ford interupted. “Pearl… told me all about that rather… unfortunate encounter just a few days ago. Honestly, I can’t say I’m even really surprised; it’d only make sense that someone as mad and as power-hungry as Bill would try to target someone as dedicated to protecting the Earth as Rose and the Crystal Gems.”

The kids looked to each other again at this, their expressions all somewhat uncertain but craving to know more about whatever knowledge the author might have concerning the dream demon. “Um, so how exactly do you know Bill, Great Uncle Ford?” Dipper asked rather hesitantly in light of his own lingering regret.

“I’ve encountered many dark beings in my time, Dipper,” Ford replied curtly. “But perhaps none as dark as Bill Cipher. All the same, the specifics aren’t important right now. What matters is that his powers are growing stronger, and if he pulls off his plans, then none of us, not this family, not the Gems, not even Gravity Falls itself will be safe!”

Upon hearing this, none of the kids were able to hold back a unified frightened gasp. In light of their past encounters with the dream demon as well as everything the Gems had recently revealed, it was obvious that Bill was certainly a threat to them all. But to hear this confirmation come from someone as wizened and well-traveled as the author of the journals himself only served to hit that alarming thought home even more. After all, if Bill really was such a severe and present danger to not just them but the town, possibly even the world as a whole, then what hope did any of them possibly have in trying to stop him?

“Fortunately,” Ford continued, as if he had somehow heard the kids’ shared worries and decided to address them. “There should be a way to shield us from his mental tricks. A way to ‘Bill-proof’ the shack and even the Gems’ temple, as it were.”

“R-Really?” Steven asked with a small but growing smile, one that was filled with relief that the other three kids equally shared. “That’s great! How does it work?”

“It’s quite simple, really,” the author began, laying a map of the shack out on the table. “All I have to do is place moonstones here, here, and here, sprinkle some mercury, and… let’s see, I always forget that last ingredient!” Ford frowned as he flipped open journal 1, briefly glancing through his notes before finding what he was looking for. “Ugh, that’s right… unicorn hair…”

“That’s not… rare, is it?” Dipper asked, picking up on the author’s disgruntled tone.

“Its hopeless,” Ford shook his head dismissively as he looked back to the journal. “Unicorns reside deep within an enchanted glade, and their hairs can only be obtained by a pure, good-hearted person who goes on a magical quest to find them. And of course, unicorns themselves are-”

The author’s explanation was abruptly cut off from a loud, shrill, undeniably excited squeal from Mabel, one that tore starkly through the ongoing solemn manner of this meeting. “Grunkle Ford! Can I please go on this quest?!” she asked with a large, eager grin as she hopped out of her seat. “I am literally obsessed with unicorns! My first word was unicorn, I once made my own unicorn by taping a traffic cone to a horse’s head and got banned from the petting zoo for it, are you even looking at the sweater I’m wearing right now?!” She quickly pointed to said sweater, which, fittingly enough, had a colorful design of a unicorn stitched onto it. “Not to mention that I’m probably the most pure of heart person in this room. Well, aside from Steven, that is.” A round of murmured agreements arose from this, no one really dissenting to such a claim given Mabel’s very transparent sense of altruism and helpfulness. “So can I please go on a mission to get that hair?” she continued pleadingly. “Please, please, please?! I’ll give you my blood!”

Despite this concerning vow, Ford simply nodded, albeit a bit hesitantly given the nature of the quest his niece wanted to go on. “Very well,” he consented gruffly. “But it won’t be easy. Take this,” he handed off journal 1 to her, largely since it offered a map pointing to where unicorns were known to dwell. “And this,” he also gave her a fully-loaded crossbow, much to excitement, even as she struggled to properly lift it. “I haven’t been in this dimension in a while. It’s still ok to give children deadly weapons, right?”

“Pssh, come on, dawg,” Mabel remarked with a casual wave of her hand. Of course, she didn’t notice that her other hand had accidentally squeezed the crossbow’s trigger until an arrow fired off through it, crashing through the nearby window and startling a certain pair of partners in crime outside.

“Ah! It’s the cops!” Stan shouted frantically somewhere outside. “Gun it!”

“Soy inocente, ¡lo juro!” Amethyst cried as a truck carrying a heavy load of pugs sped off.” ¡Todo fue idea de Stan!”

“Amethyst! Cut it out with all the Spanish already!”

“Heh, sorry, dude, can’t help it. Its mucho divertido.”

“Um… on second thought, why don’t I go with you, Mabel?” Connie asked after a beat of somewhat awkward silence. “Not that I don’t think you can handle yourself, but maybe having my sword along with that crossbow will make this whole, uh, ‘enchanted quest’ thing go a little easier.”

“Oh my gosh, yes!” Mabel gasped, cheerfully pulling Connie up out of her chair as she spun her around excitedly. “This is gonna be great! Mabel and Connie: Unicorn Hunters Extraordinaire! Ooo, wait! I got another idea! We should turn this unicorn duo into a whole unicorn party!” Without another word, Mabel quickly pulled her phone up and began dialing several numbers at once as she ran out of the room. “Wendy, Candy, Grenda, clear the afternoon!”

“Oh boy…” Connie chuckled as she prepared to follow after Mabel. “This oughta be… interesting.”

“Hm… perhaps you girls should take one of the Gems along with you as well…” Ford mused. “As far as I know, they do have some experience with unicorns so their aid will likely be an asset, and not just in finding them either…”

“Get a Gem to come, got it!” Connie nodded, offering the remaining trio a thumbs up as she headed out herself. “Thanks, Mr. Ford!”

“Yes, yes, try not to come across any packs of marauding ware-fairies while you’re out,” Ford advised, waving both girls off as Steven and Dipper did the same.

“So… what are the odds that they actually get that hair?” Dipper asked Ford, trying to hide his rather palpable concern.

“Unlikely,” the author replied as soon as he was sure the girls were out of earshot. “I’ve dealt with unicorns before and if I had to describe them in one word it would be… frustrating.”

“Aw, but this is Mabel and Connie we’re taking about here,” Steven said with an encouraging smile. “If anyone can get that hair, its them!”

“Well, just in case they don’t,” Dipper countered diffidently. “Is there anything else we could maybe do to stop Bill in the meantime?”

Ford took pause at this question, his expression initially unreadable as he looked between both of the boys sitting in front of him before his focus finally settled on Steven. The young Gem shifted somewhat apprehensively under the author’s scrutinizing stare, one that seemed to almost be searching for something, though he had no idea as to what that something could possibly be. “Um… Mr. Ford? What’s-”

“Steven,” the author interupted, his tone and manner both very serious as he glanced around rather discreetly. “Rose Quar—I mean, your mother, used to be the one person, or Gem rather, that I always felt like I could confide in. I trusted her immensely, and… I’d like to think that I can trust her son as well. So… can I?”

The young Gem was admittedly somewhat taken aback by this, but as he glanced over and met Dipper’s rather expectant expression, he found he was hard pressed to say no. “Y-yeah—I mean, yes,” Steven said with much more resolve, hoping that he could somehow honor the genuine bond that used to exist between the author and his mother even in some small, simple way. “Yes, you can. But, uh, can I ask with what exactly you wanna trust me with?”

Ford cracked something of a small smirk at this, clearly glad to have the young Gem on board. “Dipper, why don’t I let you tell him?”

“Oh, uh, ok,” Dipper nodded, immediately understanding exactly what the author wanted him to reveal. Even still, he hesitated somewhat, remembering the promise he had made to Ford himself to keep silent about it only a few days prior, a promise he devoutly intended to keep even still. And yet, since Ford was the very one telling him to make an exception to that promise right then and there, he decided to relent and do just that, knowing that if there was really anyone who he’d personally trust with such a momentous secret, it would be Steven. “So, Great Uncle Ford took the portal apart, right? But it sorta left this… what was it again?”

“An interdimensional rift,” Ford filled in, his voice low as he took another cursory glance around the room for any sort of prying eyes.

“An interdimensional rift, right,” Dipper said with a bit more confidence, which was something Steven only met with confusion as he tried to follow along. “And that’s bad because it could…?”

“It could tear our reality itself apart,” Ford finished gravely. “Especially if someone like Bill were to get his hands on it. If its power were to be unleashed, then he’d be completely free to wreak untold havoc upon this dimension, destroying everything and everyone in his path.”

“W-whoa…” Steven whispered, his eyes wide as he tried to take such a dark implication in. “And I thought everything the Gems told us last night was bad. B-but this… rift thing sounds like it could be even worse than that was!”

“Indeed it could,” Ford nodded coldly. “And that’s why the three of us have to do everything in our power to protect it from Bill. Including maintaining its secrecy from everyone.”

“Even the Gems?” Steven asked apprehensively. “B-because I-”

“Even the Gems,” the author interupted staunchly, glancing away. “The more people who know about the rift, the more danger it could potentially be put in. I did have some reservations about telling even you, Steven, but… well, I figured I might as well fill you in since I very likely would have done the same for your mother if she were still… around.”

“Oh, uh… gee, thanks…” the young Gem said with a halfhearted smile, the comparison Ford was apparently drawing between him and his mother not lost on him. A comparison that, in light of recent revelations, Steven wasn’t sure he was too comfortable with anymore, even if he knew that it was rather fitting. After all, wasn’t keeping such a potentially earth shattering secret hidden from the Gems the very same sort of thing Rose herself did before him? Still, he knew he couldn’t exactly betray either Ford’s trust on the matter either, especially since it was of such grave significance. The author had said so himself: if Bill ever managed to get ahold of that rift, then reality itself could very well cease to be. The knowledge of that fact alone was a momentous, massive weight, one that the young Gem feared he wouldn’t be properly carry but at the very least, he didn’t have to do it alone. For just as he began to doubt his own resolve, he was broken out of his thoughts by the comforting hand that fell upon his shoulder. Steven was unable to hold back a small smile as he met the gentle, affirmative one Dipper was offering him, one that carried the promise that, despite how daunting protecting the rift and its secrets might be, it was a task that they’d carry out together. And that alone was exactly the kind of warm reassurance the young Gem needed to hope that they’d be able to carry that untold, almost crushing weight after all. “B-but… you don’t have to worry,” Steven said as he turned back to the author. “I won’t tell anyone. I promise.”

“Very good,” Ford said, genuinely grateful as he rose to stand. “Now, both of you, follow me. We’ve much to do.”

Neither boy questioned the author any further as they hurried after him to the gift shop, watching in curious anticipation as he opened the hidden elevator behind the vending machine up. However, instead of taking them down to the basement lab, the elevator stopped on the floor between it, at an ornate wooden door that only Ford seemed to hold the key to. And needless to say that that boys were quite amazed by what they saw.

Contained between the gift shop and the underground lab was an entire floor in and of itself, one that surprisingly spacious, even despite the walls lined with full bookshelves and old, interesting artifacts and machinery strewn just about everywhere. The rather long room stretched back into a corridor with covered walls and a massive machine consisting of several large screens and a dizzying array of wires and buttons. Of course, both Steven and Dipper were absolutely amazed to discover such an impressive hideout, one that neither of them ever even knew existed before though Ford was steady as ever as he led the way into it.

“Welcome to my private study,” he began, not making much time to give the boys even a simple tour of the room. “A place where I keep my most ancient and secret knowledge. Even Stanley, Garnet, Amethyst, and Pearl don’t know about this place, however, Rose did.” At this, the author briefly sent Steven a small, knowing grin over his shoulder, one that he only weakly returned as he continued following after Ford to the other end of the room. Dipper, however, detracted somewhat, curious to see exactly what knowledge his uncle might be keeping in this extensive collection, however, before he could really try to investigate, Ford urgently prompted him onward.

“Dipper, come along!” the author called as he began setting up the large machine, which was only labeled as ‘Project Mentum’. “If we can’t Bill-proof the shack, then we’re going to have to do the next best thing.” At this, Ford held up a rather old-looking metallic helmet, one that was connected to the machine by several wires and seemed to carry some sort of unknown purpose to it. “We’re going to have to Bill-proof our minds.”

Both Steven and Dipper let out a shared gasp at this, but even so, they were unable to hold back relieved smiles as they looked to each other. Because for perhaps the first time since last night, it seemed as though there was actually a way to fend Bill off after all, to keep him from tormenting them any further, from plaguing their thoughts and haunting their nightmares. And, after everything they’d been through because of the demon throughout the summer, that alone was enough to fill both boys with more hope than they had known in quite some time.

Even if such hope wasn’t destined to last.

With their unicorn-finding mission clear and their shared resolve burning, Mabel and Connie set out on their intrepid quest, gathering a motley crew consisting of Wendy, Candy, and Grenda to accompany them. And, as Ford had advised, the girls managed to recruit the first Gem they could find to act as something of a chaperone, said Gem just so happening to be Pearl, who had just ventured down to the shack to check on the kids as soon as Connie and Mabel stepped out of it. Without filling the white Gem in on much of their mission, she still decided to join the group, largely out of her lingering worry concerning the upsetting reveals made throughout the previous night. All the same, Pearl was somewhat surprised by just how overtly upbeat the majority of the group was as they ventured into the depths of the forest with only journal 1 and the knowledge contained therein to serve as their guide.

“It’s nice to finally be out on a mission, just us gals!” Mabel quipped as she led the way with a bit of an excited spring in her step.

“Well, a mission that isn’t super likely to put all of our lives in danger, at least,” Connie remarked rather knowingly.

“And exactly what the purpose of this mission again?” Pearl asked, making sure to keep an eye out for any supernatural monster that might possibly assail them. “You girls failed to really give me all of the details before we set out on this so-called ‘magical quest’ of ours.”

“Isn’t it obvious?” Grenda asked boisterously. “We’re going to meet, touch, and/or become unicorns!”

“U-Unicorns?!” Pearl gasped, completely appalled as she looked back to Mabel and Connie. “That’s what all this is about? Well, if that’s the case then you girls can count me out of this little venture!”

“What?” Connie asked as the collective group stopped short to look to the white Gem in confusion. “But why?”

“Why?” Pearl repeated incredulously. “Because simply put, unicorns are nuisances. They always have been, ever since we happened upon them decades ago. Even Rose couldn’t stand their self-entitled attitude and honestly I completely agree with her. I can’t even begin to fathom why on Earth any of you girls would actually want to actively go looking for such… infuriating creatures!”

“Because Grunkle Ford said that if we get a whole bunch of their hair then we can use it to make some sorta barrier thing that’ll keep the shack and the temple safe from Bill!” Mabel informed with a sense of pressing urgency.

“Wait, what?!” the white Gem exclaimed, even more stunned to her this. “Y-you mean there’s actually a way to arm ourselves against that… that monster? All this time and we had no idea… This changes everything!”

“So… does that mean you’ll help us find a unicorn?” Connie asked, exchanging a hopeful glance with Mabel.

Pearl hesitated for a beat at this, though inevitably she let out a long, begrudging sigh, knowing that she really had no other choice. “I suppose I will if I really must… Still, I wish there was another way of going about this… Dealing with those infernal unicorns almost isn’t worth the aggravation, even if it will potentially help us ward off Cipher…”

“Um… well, who knows?” Mabel said with a bit of a forced, encouraging smile. “Maybe unicorns aren’t as bad as you remember them being, Pearl. I mean, based on everything I’ve heard about them, they sound like they’re the most magical, sparkly, amazing magical horses out there!”

“I hear that if you lick a unicorn’s neck, it tastes like your favorite flavor in the world!” Candy added enthusiastically.

“Candy, I will make sure you lick that unicorn’s neck, because I care about my friends,” Mabel said with heavy resolve, remembering what Ford had said about unicorns only allotting their hair to the most pure of heart. And as far as Mabel was concerned, she was already that and then some, to the point that the unicorns very likely wouldn’t need any proof of her innate kindness and goodness at all. Or so she thought.

“Honestly, I stopped believing in unicorns when I was like, five years old,” Wendy remarked, casually swinging at low-hanging tree branches with her axe. “I’m just coming along to keep you kids from stepping into a bear trap and to make sure you guys aren’t too disappointed when you find out unicorns aren’t actually real.”

“Oh, they’re real all right,” Pearl countered, her eye twitching out of slight frustration over the thought of merely encountering any sort of unicorn alone. “Real aggravating.”

“Stop!” Mabel suddenly exclaimed as they reached a rather ethereal glade, filled with shimmering, otherworldly flora, ancient stone monuments, and the occasional fairy or sprite floating nearby. “This is the magical part of the forest! Now, let’s see…” The others gathered around her as she flipped through journal 1 before landing on a map of the mystical area they now found themselves in. “The gnome tavern is over there… the fairy nail salon is over there, but it says that to summon the unicorn, one must bellow this ancient chant droned by only the deepest-voiced druids of old.”

“On it!” Grenda proclaimed, grabbing the journal and rushing forward to the center of the glade. And from there, she got right to chanting, her abnormally deep voice carrying across the clearing as she belted the ancient non-melody out while the others stood by watching curiously.

“Ten bucks says nothing happens,” Wendy said, crossing her arms dubiously.

“I’ll take that bet,” Mabel smirked, confident that this chant would work. And work it did as suddenly, the entire glade began to violently shake. In response to Grenda’s deep, summoning chant, a massive stone structure began to rise up from the ground, one that was clearly mystical in nature based on its castle-like appearance and the shimmering golds and lush vinery decorating it.

“Here we go…” Pearl muttered bitterly to herself as the younger girls reacted excitedly, all of them rushing through the large wooden doors and into a place somehow even more dreamlike and enchanted than the magical forest it was situated in. A rainbow-accented waterfall fed a flowing stream that cut through the grassy enclosure, one that was inhabited by a pan flute playing faun and none other than an unquestionably magical unicorn, one that was practically straight out of fairytales and legends of old. Simply put, she was ethereal, lightly shimmering all over, from her pale blue skin to her bright, multicolored mane and tail, to her huge, wide, sparking eyes. She tossed her rainbow mane and let out a mighty neigh as the intruding group entered, almost all of them completely dazzled by her mere appearance alone, much less her actual existence.

“Mother of mothers!” Grenda gasped, amazed.

“Dream of dreams!” Candy exclaimed, just as stunned.

“It can’t be…” Connie whispered, shocked.

“No way,” Wendy scowled, especially as Mabel reached her hand up for the bet she had just won and the ten bucks she now had to fork over.

“Oh of course…” Pearl grumbled upon looking to the familiar unicorn poised before them. “It just had to be her…”

“Hark!” the unicorn proclaimed sharply, apparently communicating through her glowing pink horn. “Visitors to my realm of enchantment!”

“Oh my gosh! Oh my gosh!” Mabel squealed happily, bouncing up and down on the balls of her feet. “What’s your name?”

“I am Celestabellebethabelle, last of my kind!” the unicorn introduced herself. “Come in, come in. Just… take off your shoes. I have a whole thing about shoes.” The girls were quick to comply, all of them removing their shoes at the gate save for Wendy and Pearl, both of whom were already none too enthused about this encounter in the first place. Even so, Celestabellebethabelle was quick to notice their belligerence and even quicker to call them out on it. “Ah, ah! I’m talking to everyone!” Despite their increased annoyance at this, both the cashier and the white Gem complied, though the unicorn let out something of an angry snort the moment she caught sight of Pearl in particular. “You! Crystal Gem!” she exclaimed hotly, slamming one of her hooves down. “I do believe I was quite clear with your leader many years ago that NONE of your kind are welcome back into my mystical domain! So please, be a dear and… REMOVE YOURSELF FROM MY PRESCENCE AT ONCE!”

“Oh, believe me, I gladly would,” Pearl huffed, crossing her arms as she unapologetically at the unicorn. “After all, the last thing I want is to be in the ‘presence’ of someone as completely gaudy and over the top as yourself, Celestabelle.”

“It is Celestabellebethabelle, and I will thank you kindly to remember it!” the unicorn snapped fiercely, lowering herself as though she planned on charging the white Gem herself, though fortunately, Mabel intervened before any such altercation could take place.

“W-wait!” she exclaimed, rushing to stand between the two before offering Celestabellebethabelle a very saccharine smile. “Heh, you’ll have to forgive Pearl here, she… had a pretty rough night last night.”

“I did not!” Pearl exclaimed defensively. “I’ll have you know that I tried sleeping for the first time last night and even if I still don’t understand the functional purpose of such an activity, I’d like to think that I still did a suitable job at it!”

“Pearl…” Connie whispered, giving the white Gem something of a pleading glance. And, despite her own apt frustrations at the unicorn that was still issuing her a rather harsh look, she begrudgingly backed down, knowing that acting out was doing nothing for their much more important cause.

“A-anyway…” Mabel continued, trying to make up for Pearl’s outburst with a heavy layer of politeness. “Celestabellebethabelle, we have journeyed far and wide-”

“About an hour!” Grenda chimed in.

“-On a mission to protect our family with your magical hair!”

“This is your chance, Candy…” Candy whispered to herself as she snuck to Celestabellebethabelle’s side, her tongue out as she leaned in close. “Lick the neck… lick it…”

“Very well!” the unicorn exclaimed, lifting herself up and her neck out of Candy’s reach. “Despite your rather… poor company,” she paused, briefly sending another cold scowl Pearl’s way. “I shall allow you this opportunity out of the immense goodness of my immaculate soul.”

“Oh please…” Pearl muttered, rolling her eyes at such an exaggerated claim.

“To receive a lock of my enchanted hair, step forth, girl of pure, perfect heart!” Celestabellebethabelle called, her tone as dramatic and bold as ever.

After a round of encouraging smiles and nods from Connie, Candy, and Grenda, Mabel stepped forward with a confident grin, assured that she’d be able to win the unicorn’s favor, even despite the rather rough start of this meeting. “Presenting… bum buh da bum bum ba bum bum! Mabel!”

Celestabellebethabelle seemed to take pause for a moment, as if sizing the girl before her up for a moment before letting out a harsh, appalled gasp. “What? You?!” she asked in what sounded like offended disbelief. “A unicorn can see deep inside your heart, child, and you have done WRONG!” To punctuate her claim, Celestabellebethabelle pointed the tip of her horn directly at Mabel, sparking up a bright, heart-shaped glow on her chest, one that was quick to turn dark and black, much to her alarm. “Wrong, I say!”

“W-what?” Mabel gasped, confused and distraught as she quickly covered her heart from the unicorn’s piercing gaze.

“But how can that be?” Connie interjected, quickly placing a comforting hand on Mabel’s shoulder as she addressed Celestabellebethabelle with apt seriousness. “I’m sorry to sound rude, but Mabel really is one of the kindest, most helpful people you’ll ever meet. Right, guys?”

“Yeah!” Grenda exclaimed in rowdy agreement.

“Absolutely,” Candy said resolutely as Pearl and Wendy also nodded.

“So… maybe your magical, uh… heart-scanning magic was just a bit… I don’t know, off?” Connie finished amicably enough.

“It is most certainly NOT ‘off’!” Celestabellebethabelle scoffed hotly. “A unicorn’s tuition is never wrong! And my intuition can confirm, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that THAT girl’s heart is nowhere near pure enough to obtain the prize of my glorious hair!”

“But-”

“H-hold on a sec, Connie,” Mabel interrupted with a fretful frown. “I… s-she… might have a point… I mean, I do make fun of Dipper a lot… Plus there was that whole… puppet show thing with Bill that was kinda mostly my fault… and I did just shatter a window with a crossbow…”

“Your bad deeds make me cry!” Celestabellebethabelle let out an embellished sob, rainbow tears spilling from her eyes and burning up the grass below on contact.

“Noooo!” Mabel cried, shocked and horrified by the unicorn’s incredibly harsh reaction. A reaction that was only garnished from her own apparently unknown lack of purity all along.

“Alright, that’s quite enough!” Pearl interjected hotly, sending Celestabellebethabelle a vicious glare as she came to stand defensively between her and Mabel. “Don’t think I’m not wise to your little ‘game’, Celestabelle.”

“Again, its Celestabellabethabelle!”

“I don’t care!” the white Gem huffed angrily. “If you think I’m going to let you get away with emotionally devastating a poor innocent child like Mabel, then you’re dead wrong!”

“Oh, well that’s just the thing,” Celestabellebethabelle remarked with a knowing smirk. “I don’t ‘have’ to get away with anything. I’m a unicorn. I do whatever I want! Including kick you out of my enchanted glen like the rabble you are.”

“Oh, I’ll show you ‘rabble’ you self-righteous, pretentious, over-glorified equine snob!” Pearl yelled, more than ready to summon her spear and outright attack if not for Connie and Wendy holding her back.

“Uh, Pearl? I’m with you on this whole thing being pretty screwed up, but you should probably reign it in just a little,” Wendy remarked as they began to lead the still quite hostile white Gem out of the glen.

“Yeah, its not worth it,” Connie agreed. “Well, I mean, it is worth it if it means we can get that hair protect the shack and the temple from Bill, but still we shouldn’t resort to violence to get it unless we absolutely have to.”

“Yes, yes, that’s right, leave with whatever small shred of dignity you have left,” Celestabellebethabelle said, turning her nose up at the rest of the group as they dejectedly left in defeat. “Perhaps try coming back when you’re PURE OF HEART!” At this, the unicorn let out another dramatic neigh, only to pause for a brief beat of silence as the group looked to her once more rather incredulously. “Exit is that way. Oh, and shoes! Shoes! Take your shoes! This isn’t some… some shoe store!”

And with that, the collective group was shut out of the unicorn’s glen, though thankfully it didn’t sink back into the ground, just in case they all decided to actually return again. Even so, that wasn’t something any of them were too keen on after the very cold reception they had just received from Celestabellebethabelle, especially Mabel, who was practically fighting back tears over the rather biting, perhaps accurate, claims the unicorn had made against her.

“Hey, Mabel, don’t let her get to you,” Grenda said as both her and Candy put comforting hands on their distraught friends’ shoulders.

“Yeah, I wouldn’t trust a horse that wears makeup,” Wendy scoffed, rolling her eyes over the unicorns’ uppity mannerisms.

“How dare that haughty horse pull that ‘not pure of heart’ gambit again,” Pearl remarked crossly, sending a cold glare back at the now closed gates of the unicorn’s glen. “I wouldn’t put any stock into anything she said back there, Mabel. After all, she had the gall to tell Rose, of all people, that she wasn’t pure of heart around the turn of the century! True, Rose may have made… a few mistakes in the past, but even so, such a claim is completely ridiculous; I mean, Gems don’t even have hearts in the first place!”

“Uh, I think what Pearl is trying to say, Mabel,” Connie interjected much more rationally. “Is that you shouldn’t worry about what that unicorn said about you. We can always find some other way to protect ourselves from Bill. Probably… Hopefully.”

“No, girls, she’s right,” Mabel said, sucking in a deep, resolved breath. “I used to be one of the sweetest people I knew, but recently I’ve been seriously slacking in the whole goodness department. Well, today, we’re gonna fix it! From this moment forth, I’m gonna do so many good deeds that I’ll have the purest heart in Gravity Falls!” With this dedicated proclamation, she threw a first up into the air with gusto, only for it to squarely strike a low flying bird by mistake, knocking out of the air and clearly injuring it, much to everyone else’s concerned surprise. “…That… that bird is fine.”

Knowing that time was of the essence when it came to halting Bill’s ambitions, Ford wasted none of it in calibrating his mysterious Project Mentum while the boys stood by, both of them curious, hopeful, and anxious as they mutually wondered whether or not this plan of action would truly work at all. Eager to finally be rid of the menace that was the dream demon once and for all, Dipper had volunteered to go first, with Steven patiently sitting next to him while Ford carefully hooked him up to the machine by way of its bulky metal helmet. Things had been rather quiet amongst the three of them in light of the seriousness of their shared endeavor, but when this tentative silence finally was broken, Steven was the one to do so.

“Um, Mr. Ford?” he began somewhat hesitantly as the author turned to the machine itself to finish setting it up. “Are you sure this is gonna work?”

“Yes,” Ford said, completely confident as he glanced over his shoulder. “I built this device specifically with the intent of using it as a defense against Bill quite some time ago. Which is why I have the upmost certainty that it’ll do its part in shielding you boys against his influence.”

Steven and Dipper exchanged another brief, somewhat hopeful glace at this, knowing that the promise of freeing themselves from the lingering nightmares Bill caused them even still seemed almost too good to be true. And yet, even that promise, as wonderful as it sounded, wasn’t quite enough for Dipper. Based on past encounters with the mysterious dream demon, as well as the Gems’ own horrific account given last night, he couldn’t help but still have quite a few questions concerning the looming threat that had been terrorizing them all practically all summer. “So… what exactly is Bill anyway?” he asked, hoping that, with his vast knowledge, Ford might hold at least a few answers to those questions.

“No one knows for sure,” Ford began, handing off a folder to his nephew that was simply entitled the ‘Cipher File’. Both Steven and Dipper glanced over its sparse contents, a few old documents that game only very brief, not very detailed information concerning matters only remotely related to Bill as the author went on. “Accounts differ of his true motivations and origin. What I do know is that he’s older than our galaxy, and far more twisted. His current domain is the Nightmare Realm, an unstable place of untold horrors all crafted by Bill himself. Thankfully though, he’s mostly confined there, for now. Without a physical form, he can only project himself into our thoughts through the mindscape. That’s why he wants this,” Ford held up the rift, being ever careful with its fragile form as the boys both looked to it apprehensively. “I dismantled the portal, but with this tear, Bill still has a way into our reality. To get his hands on this rift, he would trick or possess anyone.”

“Wait, so… he wants that rift too?” Steven asked, unconsciously placing a hand over where his gemstone was.

“Too?” Ford paused, turning to glance at the young Gem at this. “What do you mean ‘too’?”

“Uh… well…” Steven hesitated somewhat, though upon receiving an encouraging nod from Dipper, he decided it was best if he spoke his piece. “Last night, Bill showed up in a dream I had. He tried to get me to give him my gem, but after I told him no, he said that its already his since my mom promised to give it to him. The Gems are pretty sure that Mom never did that, but… I’m still not sure. What do you think, Mr. Ford?”

The author didn’t answer right away, instead looking to the young Gem with an expression of unquestionable alarm upon hearing such a claim. Yet at the same time, his reaction to the news was every bit as vague as it was when he learned that Bill had possessed Dipper, almost as if he was trying to conceal how he really felt about such a revelation. “So you’re the one he-” Ford quickly cut himself off, noticing the curious looks both boys were sending him as he immediately regained his usual scholarly composure. “Hm, yes, well, the fact that Bill is after your gemstone is extremely troubling indeed, Steven. Even so, I agree with the Gems; its highly unlikely that Rose would have agreed to turn over her gemstone to the likes of him, no matter what he might have promised her for it. As for why he might want it though, that’s… unclear. It makes sense that he’d want to get ahold of the rift, but its hard to say what he might want a gemstone—Rose Quartz’s gemstone in particular—for. Unless…”

“Unless… what?” Steven pressed, immensely curious.

Ford jolted at this, quickly shaking his head as if to clear it before offering both boys a somewhat forced reassuring smile. “Oh, i-its nothing, nothing at all,” he remarked with a dismissive wave of his hand. “What matters now is that we do what we can to protect our minds from Bill.”

“So how exactly do we do that?” Dipper asked intently.

“Well, there are a number of ways,” the author said. “I personally had a metal plate installed in my head by an otherworldly, seven-eyed oracle.”

“Heh, good one,” Dipper chuckled in response to such an admittedly outlandish claim. That is, until Ford proved it to be true by knocking against the side of his head, eliciting a strong metallic sound that was more than enough to get his nephew to awkwardly retract his doubt.

“But this machine is much safer,” the author continued, nodding to the several screens behind them. “It will scan your mind, bioelectrically encrypting your thoughts so Bill can’t read them. Now…” Ford paused, only to press the final button to set Project Mentum in motion. “Say hello to your thoughts.”

All at once, the machine sparked to life, its various screens filling in with Dipper’s own thoughts, putting them all on unfettered display for all three of them to see and hear as they cycled through at a seemingly random pace: “Oh man, I can’t believe I’m actually with the author!” “Is my fly down?” “Disco girl! Coming through!” “I miss Tyrone…�� “Bill better stay away from Steven if he knows what’s good for him!” “I have to find a way to save Lapis!” “Huh, I might be just a little emotionally unstable… Maybe I should go get some therapy or something?”

“Um, y-you might wanna… ignore that last one…” Dipper said, quite flustered by his thoughts being so openly and unintentionally revealed like that.

“Whoa, that’s so cool!” Steven exclaimed, stars in his eyes. “I wanna see what my thoughts have to say! I mean, I already know what they say since they’re in my head, but I wanna see them laid out on a screen like that!”

“And you will,” Ford interjected. “After Dipper is done. This is a very delicate process that could potentially take hours to complete. Which means all we can do now is be patient and let the machine do its job.”

“Oh, well, uh, maybe in the meantime you could… I dunno, maybe fill us in on what your history with Bill is in the first place?” Dipper ventured, still quite eager to know exactly what the apparently quite significant context for Ford’s impressive knowledge concerning the dream demon actually was.

“Dipper, do you trust me?” Ford asked, his tone quite serious as he knelt down next to his great nephew.

“Well, yeah, but-”

“Then you’ll trust that that’s not important,” the author concluded staunchly, standing as he headed back over to his desk, leaving both Dipper and Steven as much in the dark as they ever were. “Now, focus. Its time to strengthen your mind…”

Determined to prove herself to Celestabellebethabelle, Mabel took to the town, the others following suit to do whatever they could to help her carry out the lengthy list of good deeds she had come up with. Their main objective was clear: to help out as many people as they could in the hopes that no one, not even the unicorn herself, would be able to deny that Mabel was not just more than worthy enough to not just obtain that magical hair, but also that her heart was overflowing with purity and goodness beyond compare.

And so the group set out to do just that, lending their cheerful aid to any troubled soul they could find. They moved snails from the danger of the streets to the safety of the grass and planted a tree right in front of the door to the Gravity Falls’ Gossiper office, unknowingly trapping Toby Determined inside of it. They helped Kiki on her pizza delivery route and fixed up several of the games at Funland Arcade. They gave Stan a literal smile in the form of a giant smiley face sticker slapped onto his face and Mabel even went as far as donating three pints of her own blood to those in need, disregarding her own lightheadedness after the fact. From there, they covered several smaller deeds on the list, like helping old ladies and ducks cross the road, to filling Lazy Susan’s tip jar, to sprucing up the town statues of Nathaniel Northwest and William Dewey with a fresh coat of glitter. Though their altruistic mission took several hours of hard, selfless work on their part, by the time they were finished, they all felt quite satisfied that they had met their goal, particularly Mabel as they began to make their way back to the unicorn’s glade.

“Boom! A thousand good deeds!” she exclaimed happily as she crossed the last item off her list. “When that unicorn scans my heart again, she’s gonna say that I’m absolutely, one hundred percent, bona-fide-”

“NOT pure of heart!” Celestabellebethabelle proclaimed after the group returned to her glen, her insistence on the matter just as harsh and firm as it was before.

“Booyah!” Mabel cheered, though she quickly changed her tune upon realizing exactly what the unicorn had said. “Wait… w-what?”

“How is that even possible?” Wendy asked with an incredulous scoff. “Mabel’s a straight up saint, you judgmental hoofbag!”

“Seriously, she just spent the entire afternoon helping people,” Connie added knowingly. “Doesn’t that mean anything here?”

“Please! Tell me what I’m doing wrong!” Mabel practically begged, distraught that her efforts were apparently all for naught.

“Doing good deeds to make yourself look better isn’t good at all,” Celestabellebethabelle remarked haughtily. “Not to mention you’re crushing like, ten dandelions right now. Those are basically children’s dreams.” Mabel let out a horrified gasp at this, quickly stepping off the small patch of dandelions she was incidentally standing on before the unicorn condescendingly continued. “I’m sorry, Mabel. It’s not my fault you’re a bad person.”

Unable to take the unicorn’s brutally harsh criticisms any longer, Mabel ran off, not even trying to hold back a heartbroken sob amidst this second, much more painful rejection. As appalled by Celestabellebethabelle’s rather cruel attitude as they were, most of the others didn’t stick around to chastise her on it as they all hurried out of the glen to make sure she was alright. All except for Pearl, who decided to hang back solely for the sake of giving the unicorn a few choice words in light of the completely shameful display she had just witnessed.

“You may have those girls fooled, but you’re not fooling me,” the white Gem said, her voice almost a vicious hiss as she glared at the unicorn unflinchingly. “I know what you’re trying to do here. You did the exact same thing to Rose Quartz about 100 years ago so if you think I’m going to stand by and let you tear someone else down like that, especially someone like Mabel, then you’ve got another thing coming!”

“Oh really?” Celestabellebethabelle deadpanned, clearly not taking the white Gem seriously. “And what exactly might that ‘thing’ be?”

“Trying to act like you’re some grand authority on the contents of a person’s character!” Pearl exclaimed hotly. “I don’t know who made you had the right to judge others like you do, but whoever they were, they probably knew as little about actually being good and kind as you do.”

“As if you really know any better?” Celestabellebethabelle scoffed crossly. “The last time you were here a century ago, the only thing I saw you do was helplessly cling to your precious Rose Quartz as if she was paradigm of perfection. But even still, all these years later, I still stand what I said. She’s not pure of heart and neither are YOU!”

Pearl simply let out a harsh scoff at this, not even bothering to dignify the unicorn with a response to this as she simply turned on her heel to leave, though not before giving one final, bitter remark as she departed. “I don’t need some sanctimonious unicorn to tell me that,” she huffed, her anger dissipating into remorse as she completely turned away, recalling a certain recent mistake of hers that had all but proved her impurities through and through. “After all…” she muttered to herself somewhat sadly. “I already know…”

However, the white Gem’s self-pity didn’t last too long as she left the unicorn’s glen, only to find the girls all gathered around Mabel, who was lying close to the nearby stream, curled up into a miserable ball as she wept quietly, even despite the comfort the others were trying to offer her.

“Come on, Mabel,” Wendy encouraged earnesty. “Don’t beat yourself up about this.”

“Let’s just forget about that dumb hair and go home,” Candy advised, though Mabel was having none of that.

“It’s not just about the hair anymore, guys,” she sniffled as she sat upright and held her list of failed good deeds close. “It’s about me. Being kind and sweet is what makes me who I am. If I’m not a good person, then who am I?”

“Well, I know who you are,” Connie interjected, placing a steadying hand on Mabel’s shoulder. “You’re Mabel; you’re fun and creative and most of all, kind, no matter what that unicorn says. And you don’t have to prove that to anyone, especially not her; because as far as we’re all concerned, that was something we all knew from the very start.”

Upon hearing this, Mabel briefly looked up at Connie, her cheeks still wet with tears as she met the warm smile her friend was offering her. And for a moment, her encouraging, hopeful words almost managed to convince her that it was true, that she was a good person, despite Celestabellebethabelle’s claims. And yet… it still wasn’t quite enough. “I-I appreciate it, Connie, but… she’s right…” Mabel sighed sadly as she pulled her shoulder away. “Its time I finally admit it to myself; I’m just not as pure of heart as I used to think I was… Which is why I’m not leaving this spot until I think of a deed that makes me as good as Celestabellebethabelle!”

“But Mabel-” Grenda attempted to reason before she was promptly cut off.

“Just leave me be!” Mabel snapped in morose frustration, turning her back to the group as she began pondering over her list once more. The other girls were largely at a loss over what to do to comfort her at this juncture, but even so, they didn’t get much of a chance as Pearl discreetly called them all over to her spot under a nearby tree.

“Alright, enough is enough,” the white Gem began as soon as they had all gathered near her. “It’s time to put an end to this unicorn nonsense once and for all. And the sooner we do it, the better, especially for Mabel’s sake…” Pearl frowned as she stole a sympathetic glance at the miserable girl sitting only a few feet away, desperate to find a way to make herself worthy in the eyes of a creature who clearly didn’t deserve that kind of valiant effort.

“I’m with Pearl on this one,” Wendy staunchly agreed with a deepening scowl. “If you ask me, this whole thing is a serious load. Mabel’s like one of the best people I’ve ever met. We tried getting that hair the nice way; now its time we try the Wendy way.”

“Are you suggesting violence? Sabotage?” Grenda asked, caught off guard.

“Oooo… you know, normally I’m not the kind to approve of such roguish behavior but… in this instance… that sounds… quite intriguing…” Pearl remarked, sending a daring smirk towards the nearby unicorn’s glen.

“Honestly, at this point? I’m up for trying something like that too,” Connie said, crossing her arms. “Its about time someone puts that awful unicorn in her place, so it might as well be us.”

“But what about Mabel?” Candy asked worriedly. “She’s not going to like this…”

“Mabel doesn’t need to know,” Wendy shook her head dismissively. “Look, its time we stopped trying to be so ‘perfect’ and be who we really are. We’re crazed, angry, sweaty animals—well, except for you, Pearl, I guess. No offense.”

“None taken,” Pearl said, nodding for her to go on with her inspiring rand.

“But anyway, we’re not unicorns, we’re WOMEN! And we take what we want!” To punctuate her point, Wendy slammed her fist into the nearby tree, eliciting excited cheers from Connie, Candy, and Grenda alike as well as a satisfied grin from Pearl.

In fact, the newfound revelry was so contagious that Grenda ended up smashing a rather large rock to bits against her forehead, instantly quieting the cheers as the others all looked to her, aptly startled. “…Too much?”

“Ok,” Wendy said as the group huddled in to begin their ambitious, albeit morally ambiguous plan. “Here’s what we’re gonna do…”

Gnasty’s Gnome Tavern was by and large the most popular gnome tavern anywhere near Gravity Falls, largely since it was just about the only gnome tavern in the surrounding area. Its usual patrons were a notoriously rowdy bunch who spent their days knocking back honeysuckle shots and exchanging the regular brutal punch or kick to the face to anyone in the remote vicinity. Yet despite their renowned roughhousing, none of the gnomes occupying the tavern were quite prepared for the much larger group that rather violently burst into the bar completely out of nowhere.

“It’s the cops!” one of the gnomes cried as the tavern was immediately thrown into a panic as the group of girls forcefully pushed themselves into the hallowed-out tree. “Hit the deck!”

“We’re looking for someone who knows how to take down a unicorn!” Wendy shouted fiercely amidst the clatter of scattering gnomes. “No tricks or games!”

“We are human!” Candy yelled, breaking an empty bottle over a nearby table and holding its sharpened end up threateningly. “We take what we want!”

“I know a sure-fire way of K.Oin’ a unicorn,” a rather shady, grizzled gnome sitting in the darkened corner of the tavern spoke up. “Too bad I ain’t in the market for spillin’ that kinda info to a bunch of normal-sized girlies like yourselves.”

“Oh, I think you will,” Connie said coldly, drawing Rose’s sword and aiming its sharp tip directly at the gnome.

“Heh,” he chuckled, surprisingly not surprised by this overt threat. “I like the way you ladies operate. So, listen up. Fairy dust; a whole magic bag’s enough to put a unicorn out cold. But if I do you a favor, then you gotta do somethin’ for me.”

“Just spill it, half-pint!” Grenda roared, slamming her fist against a nearby tree stump.

“Now, now, patience,” Pearl advised much more calmly as she looked back to the gnome with solid seriousness. “Name your price.”

“Butterfly traffickin’ is illegal in this part of the forest,” the gnome began, his voice low and discreet. “But I like butterflies. They tickle my face and make me laugh. Bring me a bag of butterflies and we got a deal.”

The girls all exchanged a dubious glance at this, most of them rather bewildered by how the odd rules and regulations of gnome culture. Even so, they were quick to nod their agreement to this plan, knowing that this haggle would be more than worth it to make Celestabellebethabelle pay for what she had done.

Fortunately, it didn’t take the group but a few minutes to capture a whole bag full of butterflies before meeting up with the gnome in the designated clearing. The others all hid out in the nearby bushes as they sent Grenda in to preform the trade, her manner just as unsuspecting as the gnomes as she quietly handed him off the bag of butterflies before he produced his end of the bargain.

“Two bags of fairy dust, just as we agreed,” he said, turning over two small pouches of the glittering substance.

“Where do you get this stuff?” Grenda shook her head, glancing between the dust and the gnome.

“Everyone likes sausage, but no one likes to know how it’s made,” the gnome smirked as he peeked into his bag of butterflies.

“You disgust me.”

“Hey, you got your poison; I got mine. We made a deal.”

“Yeah, well, the deal’s OFF!” Grenda shouted, blowing a whistle to summon an entire squadron of gnome policemen from the nearby woods. The arrangement with the cops had been an easy enough one to make, one that resulted in a meticulously planned-out sting operation that was already unfolding exactly as planned.

“Freeze!” the chief shouted as the first gnome was heavily pinned down by the other cops, his butterflies quickly swiped away from him. “You’re under arrest!”

“These butterflies aren’t mine! I swear I’ve been framed!” the gnome cried, sending a harsh glare to Grenda and the other girls as they came out of the bushes to join her.

“Tell it to the adorable owl we’ve dressed as a judge,” the chief scoffed as the gnome as hauled away for sentencing. “My cut?” he held his hand out to Grenda a beat later, and she handed him one of the two bags of fairy dust, just as they had agreed upon.

“Has the gnome criminal justice system always been this corrupt?” Connie asked with a somewhat concerned frown over these shady proceedings.

“Oh believe me, they have,” Pearl remarked, crossing her arms knowingly.

With the butterfly bust complete and a full bag of fairy dust still in hand, the group wasted no time in hurrying back over the unicorn’s glen, taking care to not let Mabel spot them as she remained at her spot near the stream, still trying in vain to come up with more good deeds to accomplish. With Celestabellebethabelle distracted with reading as she was, she didn’t even notice as they all slipped into her magical domain, filing in behind a row of rocks and trees so they wouldn’t be seen as they prepared to carry the final steps of their daring plan out.

“Oh, sure, I wish I could travel, but its just not feasible in this economy!” Celestabellebethabelle huffed to herself as she read through her copy of Whinny, Prey, Trot. However, it was only a moment later that the unicorn was struck squarely in the face with the full bag full of fairy dust as a result of Candy’s accurate aim. “W-what the hey-!?” was all she really had time to say before the magical substance did its trick, knocking her out cold. Her attending faun witnessed all of this with apt horror, but as he tried piping out an SOS on his panflute, Grenda was quick to slip out of the shadows and cover his mouth with a towel dosed with a healthy amount of chloroform.

“Sleep now!” she hissed as the faun slowly went limp and unconscious as well. “Sleeeeeep…”

“Alright,” Pearl said as the others hurried over to the fainted unicorn. “Let’s get this over with.”

“Right,” Wendy nodded, pulling out a pair of scissors and a sizable lock of Celestabellebethabelle’s multi-colored hair. And yet, before she could make the decisive cut, their plans all too quickly fell through when they were unexpectedly discovered by the very person they had been trying to keep their ambitions a secret from in the first place.

“No, wait!” Mabel gasped, standing in the entrance of the glen only to see the others about to outright steal some of the unicorn’s precious hair. “Stop! What are you guys doing?!”

“What does it look like we’re doing?” Pearl asked in a careful whisper, glancing over at the still unconscious Celestabellebethabelle. “We’re taking what we deserve, whether that uppity unicorn likes it or not!”

“Yeah, seriously, Mabel, keep it down!” Wendy cautioned, moving her scissors in to clip the hair. “You’ll wake her up!”

“But this is wrong, you guys!” Mabel exclaimed, swiftly taking the scissors away from the cashier.

“But protecting the shack and the temple is good,” Wendy rationalized, trying to take the scissors back. However, before she could, the unthinkable happened as Celestabellebethabelle suddenly began to stir from her momentary slumber only to spot Mabel and the scissors she was unintentionally gripping the very moment she opened her eyes.

“What?!” the unicorn gasped, quickly rising to her feet. “Doth mine eyes deceive me?! THIEF! You shall never be pure of heart!”

“N-no!” Mabel cried, instantly dropping the scissors as she looked to Celestabellebethabelle pleadingly. “Y-you don’t understand! I-I wasn’t… it was… P-please!” she ended up begging, tears falling from her eyes as she made one final, desperate plea to the outraged unicorn, even though she knew it likely wouldn’t help her now. “I-I just wanna be good like you!”

Celestabellebethabelle was more than prepared to fire off a harsh retort at this, however, right as she was about to, this intense confrontation was suddenly interrupted by a very unlikely pair. “Whoa, whoa, whoa, you’ve gotta be kidding me,” a male voice said, coming from one of the two unicorns that had just emerged from the other side of the glen, one red, one blue, and neither of them looking that amused with Celestabellebethabelle in light of what they’d just witnessed. “Yo, C-Beth, are you seriously pulling that whole ‘pure of heart’ scam again?”

“That is messed up, man,” the other unicorn added, shaking his mane disapprovingly.

“Wait… scam?” Mabel asked, exchanging a confused glance with the others.          

“Listen, kid,” the blue unicorn began rather dryly. “Unicorns can’t see into your heart. All our dumb horns can do is glow, point towards the nearest rainbow, and play rave music.” To prove his point, his horn began to somehow play a bout of upbeat techno music, which he could easily switch off at ease.

“Yeah, the whole ‘pure of heart’ racket is just a line we use to get humans to leave us alone,” the red unicorn said with a knowing scoff.

“Guuuuuys…” Celestabellebethabelle whispered nervously as her entire scheme began to fall apart. “Shut uuuuuup…”

“Wait, so… it was a lie all this time…?” Pearl spoke up before breaking out into a bout of triumphant, albeit somewhat unhinged laughter. “Ha! I knew it! I knew she was a fraud! All these years and I was right! It really was just a cruel trick to tear others down all along! Oh, if only Rose was still around to hear this, I bet she’d feel just as vindicated as I do right now!”

However, despite the white Gem’s zealous excitement, not everyone was as elated to hear the truth of the unicorn’s malicious gambit. “All this time…” Mabel began, her voice low and practically shaking with rage as she crushed her list of good deeds in her hands altogether. “All this time I thought I was a bad person, but you’re even worse than I am!” Her anger reached its mounting height as she threw her notepad down hard, her hands in tight fists as she glared at Celestabellebethabelle, refusing to let the deceptive unicorn be the judge of her any longer.

“Ok, fine,” Celestabellebethabelle huffed haughtily, knowing she’d been caught. “So you learned our secret. We’re jerks, ok? We have more hair than we know what to do with, and we keep it to ourselves just to tick humans off. So, what are you gonna do about it, huh? Huh? What are you gonna do-”

The unicorn was abruptly cut off the moment one of Mabel’s fists made brutal contact with the side of her jaw, instantly drawing some of her sparkling, rainbow-colored blood. Just about everyone gasped in shock in light of this sudden attack, and even Mabel herself was stunned by it as she looked to her own blood-covered hand, one that quickly turned back into a fist as she sent Celestabellebethabelle another hateful glare.

“Woo! Go Mabel!” Wendy cheered, already pulling her axe out of its hoister to join in on the fight.

“Join the dark side!” Grenda yelled, grabbing a nearby log to use as her weapon.

Mabel did just that as she fiercely tore the unicorn stitched onto her sweater off, making it quite clear that her former admiration and respect for the hypocritical mythical creatures was all but completely shattered right then and there. This sentiment of righteous fury carried throughout the rest of the group as well, with Wendy, Candy, and Grenda cheering for the no doubt oncoming fight as Connie swiftly drew her sword and Pearl even went as far as summoning her spear.

“You know, I usually don’t believing in physically harming any of the magical creatures of Gravity Falls,” the white Gem began as her expression slowly changed into a vengeful smirk. “But in this case, I’m more than willing to make an exception.”

“Oh, so it’s a fight you want, huh?” Celestabellebethabelle growled, digging her hoof into the soil below her as her fellow unicorns prepared themselves for the inevitable brawl. “Well, then it’s a fight you’re gonna get!”

Without any further hesitation from anyone, both sides rushed each other, meeting in a violent clash that quickly devolved into boundless chaos. Mabel was initially kicked back clean in the face by one of the unicorn’s hard-hitting hooves, though Connie was quick to swoop in for retribution, slamming the dull edge of Rose’s sword against his head in a decisive move. Grenda had landed one of the other unicorns in a headlock, repeatedly punching it in the face as Candy jumped onto his back and pulled on his hair as he let a heavy neigh of protest. Wendy was the first to get the jump on Celestabellebethabelle herself, only to be nearly trampled underfoot as she reared up high. Even so, she quickly fell back to the ground as Pearl landed a swift, elegant kick to her gut, one that was followed up by Mabel coming in for another punch to her snout. As intense and wild as this scuffle was, none of the girls could really deny that it was cathartic as could be; with each blow or beating they inflicted upon the deceitful unicorns, it felt as though there weren’t just taking out their anger in some much-needed revenge. It felt as though they were righting a grave wrong, breaking out of molds that they saw no reason to belong in any longer, and rising above unattainable standards that never truly existed in the first place. And most of all, they were proving, not just to Celestabellebethabelle, but to themselves, that the content of their characters was no one’s call but their own.

A feat that in and of itself would have been rewarding enough; though socking a sickeningly snobbish unicorn clean in the jaw only made that reward all the better.

As Ford had said, Project Mentum’s mental encryption process worked at an incredibly slow pace, something that Dipper and Steven realized more and more every time they stole a glance back at the screens behind them, which, even several hours later, still only showed its minimal progress at a mere 15%. In fact, it was taking so long that Ford had ended up falling asleep amidst pouring over his notes, leaving the boys to keeping themselves entertained during what was certainly a very lengthy, very boring endeavor.

“Ok, its my turn,” Steven grinned as he carried on the rather one-sided game of ‘I spy’ they had playing. “I spy with my little eye something… blue!”

“My vest,” Dipper answered immediately, clearly far from invested, especially when compared to the young Gem.

“Oh yeah, you got it!” Steven cheered brightly. “Then again, that one wasn’t that tough since there aren’t a lot of blue things in here.” The young Gem chuckled lightly at this, though his humor died down somewhat as he glanced over to far less enthusiastic friend beside him. “Um… Dipper? Are you ok?”

“Huh?” Dipper sat up a little at this, glancing over to Steven briefly. “Oh yeah, I’m fine, its just… we’ve been at this for hours now and it really doesn’t seem like anything’s actually happening.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, how do we really even know that this thing is actually gonna keep Bill from messing with us anymore?”

“Well, Mr. Ford said-”

“I know what Ford said,” Dipper sighed in growing frustration, especially as he glanced over at his sleeping great uncle a few feet away. “But how does he know? Why does he have to be so mysterious about Bill anyway? The Gems told us what they know about him, so why won’t Great Uncle Ford? He knows we’ve dealt with Bill before, which means whatever he’s keeping from us, I can handle it! I-I mean, we can handle it.”

“Maybe… he’s just not ready to tell us about it yet?” Steven suggested, largely respecting the author’s call on this. After all, given just how brutal and horrific the Gems’ past was with Bill, it only made sense that if Ford’s previous encounters with the dream demon were anything of the sort, that he’d be hesitant to discuss them. Dipper, on the other hand, was not so easily allayed.

“Hm… or maybe…” he trailed off, his sights still set on the author as his thoughts, made audible by the machine he was still connected to, filled in for him. “Maybe you should just use the machine! It’ll show us his thoughts!”

“H-huh?” Steven glanced behind him, somewhat alarmed to see and hear Dipper’s thoughts once more, especially as Dipper himself hardly seemed to pay them any mind. “Dipper, I… don’t know if using the machine on Mr. Ford is such a good idea…”

“Yeah, you’re probably right, we really shouldn’t…” Dipper said in apparent agreement, though his thoughts clearly said otherwise. “Great Uncle Ford won’t have to know. He’s going to tell you anyway.”

“Y-yeah, I’m sure he will!” Steven interjected anxiously. “Which is why we should probably just respect his privacy and let him tell us when he’s ready! R-right?”

“Right, right,” Dipper nodded, closing his eyes pensively as his thoughts continuing unveiling the truth. “No, not right! The more you know about Bill, the safer you’ll be! The more you can help!” “But then again… it could show us something really useful. You never know.”

“W-well, I do know that I think this is a bad idea,” the young Gem shook his head, his dread growing more and more by the second in light of his friend’s rather concerning thoughts, especially as they began to take on something of a more frustrated tone.

“Easy for Steven to say, he wasn’t the one who Bill tricked and possessed and nearly killed like YOU were!” Dipper’s expression darkened at this recollection, something that made Steven’s heart and stomach both sink in worry and fear alike. And those feelings only spiked as Dipper slowly removed the helmet, his stream of consciousness finally going silent as he kept his resolved sights on Ford and nothing else. “I’m sorry, Steven,” he said, his voice almost unnervingly quiet as he rose to stand. “But I have to know.”

“B-but-”

“It’ll be just a quick peek, I promise,” Dipper assured, casting a brief final glance back at Steven before carefully and quietly putting the helmet on his still-sleeping uncle. “What are you hiding about Bill…?”

The moment that Dipper finished securing the helmet onto Ford was the moment he got his answer. And that answer was much more horrifying than anything either him or Steven could have expected. For as soon as the device began to read the author’s thoughts, none other than the menacing image of Bill Cipher himself appeared on all of Project Mentum’s many screens, floating amidst a background of his iconic, sinister blue flames and cackling like the madman he was absolutely known to be. Unified gasps of equal fear rose up from both of the boys as Steven shot out of his seat, rushing to Dipper’s side as they watched with wide eyes and racing hearts as Ford’s slumbering thoughts told a story that neither of them ever thought they’d see.

“Where are these ideas coming from?!” A much younger McGucket yelled to a younger Ford, harshly shaking his shoulders as he gave him a look of complete and utter distrust. “Who are you workin’ with?!”

“Stanford, you HAVE to tell me what’s going on!” Another screen switched to Rose, her expression rife with worry as she spoke to the author just as urgently. “Who is ‘he’? Why won’t you let me help you instead?!”

“Because I don’t NEED you as long as I have him!” Ford shouted back, quite furious with the pink Gem for whatever reason.

The other screens were just as active as they flashed with an array of alarming images. Ford restlessly tossing and turning in his sleep, lost in an apparent torrent of unseen nightmares. Him writing “I’M LOSING MY MIND!” and “TRUST NO ONE!” into journal 3 in frantic, erratic script. The portal, sparking to life as nothing but sheer darkness and devastation lay beyond its otherworldly light. And throughout all this, several different voices joined in, weaving into this disjointed, frightening narrative each in their own unique, disconcerting way.

“My brother is a dangerous know-it-all…” Stan warned, though Ford himself soon cut him off with a warning of his own.

“He would trick or possess anyone-” the author had said and Steven and Dipper hadn’t doubted him. And yet the next scene they saw was more than enough to make them both doubt everything Ford had every said to them.

“Then it’s a deal,” Ford smiled, young and clearly confident as he held his hand out in offering. “From now until the end of time.”

Bill’s eye flashed with some unknown intent as he also extended a hand, one that was aglow with blue flames as he spoke with faux amicability. “Sure thing! Just let me into your mind, Stanford!”

“Please,” the author’s smile widened, completely oblivious to the danger the dream demon posed as their hands met in a solidifying shake over their ‘deal’. “Call me… a friend.”

The very next thing the boys saw was the result of this deal, Ford himself possessed by Bill, his eyes dark slits against piercing yellow and his voice mingling with the demon’s as they both cackled wickedly together in perfect, awful unison.

While Steven was largely stunned into silence by all this, Dipper only managed to get a few words out himself, even despite his own immense panic as the demon’s telltale maniacal laughter rang in his ears just as much as it had when he had been pulled out of his own body weeks ago. “N-no…” he choked, his voice barely a whisper as he shook his head in disbelief, hoping and practically praying it wasn’t true. “No, i-it… it can’t be… Ford a-and… and Bill?!”

Another sharp gasp rose from both boys as a sudden clamor rose from behind them, and as tense as they already were, they quickly spun around only to find that Ford himself had finally woken up at the very worst possible time. “You shouldn’t have done that…” the author said, his voice low and dark as he slowly stood. By his expression alone it was clear he as tranquilly furious, even though his eyes were obscured by the screens’ bright reflection off his glasses, which only served to make him even more admittedly intimidating as he towered over both of the terrified boys. Even still, Ford hardly seemed to note their obvious fear as he roughly took the helmet off and tossed it aside in his anger. The helmet just so happened to strike one of the many sheets covering the walls as it landed, easily pulling them down to reveal something that only made the boys’ palpable horror skyrocket exponentially.

Hidden behind both layers of curtains and secrets was what could only be defined as an all-out shrine to Bill Cipher. Several statutes prisms and statues of the demon were tucked away into the shadows, almost like twisted idols paying homage and reverence to someone who both Dipper and Steven knew to be an absolute monster worthy of no such honor. But worst of all, the walls were covered in detailed murals depicting Bill’s triangular over and over again, all of his painted eyes seeming to stare down at the frightened boys below them.

“W-what is all this?!” Steven asked, his entire body trembling as he forced himself to look away from the depiction of the demon who had haunted his dreams just a few hours prior.

“W-why… why were you shaking hands with Bill?!” Dipper exclaimed, quickly turning back around to face Ford, quickly glancing around for some means of defending himself and Steven, just in case. Fortunately, the Sword of Seasons was sitting on a table close by, largely since Ford had been tinkering with the invention a bit earlier, and even though the thought of drawing that blade against his own uncle made him sick, Dipper grabbed it nonetheless, as well as the memory erasing gun lying right next to it. “Steven! Grab the rift!”

Steven sucked in a sharp breath at this but he didn’t argue, quickly grabbing the rift off the table next to them, though amidst his rush to summon a bubble to further protect them, he nearly dropped the precious tear altogether.

“Careful!” Ford scolded harshly, his glasses still reflecting gold as he reached out to grab the rift, though he couldn’t get too close thanks to the bubble now surrounding the pair as they began to carefully back away. “Hand me the rift! Now, boys!”

“N-no!” Dipper retorted, trying to sound as brave as he could amidst his mounting fear. “You said Bill could possess anyone so he could get this, but—but you made a deal with him! How do we know you aren’t Bill right now!?”

“Now, just calm down, p-”

“Pine Tree?!” Dipper instantly cut Ford off, finally aiming the memory gun at him as opposed to his sword as memories of constant sleeps plagued with endless nightmares where Bill taunted and teased him with that very nickname flashed through his mind. “Is that what you were going to call me?!”

“I was just going to say please, kid!” Ford rationalized, but even so, his tone was still harsh and cold. By now, the boys had essentially backed themselves up into a corner, leaving them trapped with only Steven’s bubble serving as their only real defense against what could very well be Bill Cipher.

“Great Uncle Ford told me to protect the rift!” Dipper shouted, glancing over to make sure that Steven was still holding it close and tight. “And I’m not about to let you get your hands on it or on Steven’s gem! Get one step closer and I’ll shoot!” He aimed the memory gun up a bit higher at this, with the full intent to fire it off even despite knowing full well what its effects could be. “I’ll erase you right out of Ford’s head!”

“It’s me, Dipper!” Ford yelled hotly, his severity hardly calming either of the boys down whatsoever. “It’s your uncle!”

For the briefest moment, Dipper hesitated at this, his hands shaking as he tried, so very hard to believe that it really was just Ford, that Bill wasn’t using him as his own twisted puppet just as he had been weeks ago. And yet, he knew he couldn’t; because doing so could very well put himself, Steven, and even reality itself at risk. And that was a risk he wasn’t about to take when it came to Bill. Not again, not ever again.

“Steven, drop the bubble,” he said starkly, his tone every bit as shaky as his arms were.

“W-what?” Steven’s longstanding fearful silence finally broke at this, his eyes wide as he clung onto the rift and looked to his friend in disbelief.

“I said, drop it,” Dipper repeated, still not tearing his hardened gaze off of Ford, especially as the author threw his hand down onto the bubble’s pink surface out of anger.

“B-but that’s-”

“I know.”

“But if you shoot him, t-then his memories will-”

“I know, Steven!” Dipper shouted back fiercely, finally looking to the young Gem and allowing him to see just how much panic, rage, and sorrow were all mingled into his expression all at once. “Just drop it already!”

At this final, harsh command, Steven found he could no longer argue as he instead pulled the rift even closer to his chest, closing his eyes tightly as he slowly let the bubble disappear, leaving nothing between them and Ford. Nothing that is, safe for the memory gun that was brightly sparking with its erasing light in Dipper’s hands.

“T-trust no one…” he muttered to himself, tears starting to well up in his eyes as he prepared to squeeze the trigger. The author’s own mantra rung true, certainly in a moment like this, when even the person who wrote it himself couldn’t be trusted. And while Dipper had failed before in upholding it, he knew that he wasn’t going to make the same mistake twice, not when so very many things that mattered so much to him were at stake. “Trust no one! Trust-”

“Hand it to me!” Ford demanded, and it was at that moment that Dipper knew he had no choice. On a beat of sheer terror and impulse alone, he squeezed the trigger, the bright beam firing off directly at the author as both boys were knocked back by it. Miraculously, the ray struck Ford clean on his glasses, which reflected it perfectly and sent it bounding across nearly every surface in the entire room. Steven was quick to protect himself and Dipper from it by way of his shield, though as soon as the beam struck it, it ricocheted upwards towards the many screens of Project Mentum, where it finally met its end by breaking every single one of them in the process.

And yet, this brief bout of chaos only gave way to another one. Both Steven and Dipper were quick to act on sheer panic, knowing that Bill could very well still be in control of Ford and out to get them both. Dipper quickly dropped the memory gun and took up the Sword of Seasons instead, yet before he could do anything with it, Ford suddenly grabbed him by the back of his vest, easily hoisting him up into the air. He nearly latched onto Steven’s arm as well, though the young Gem had the wits about him to pull away just in time and run, taking the rift with him. That is, until he heard Dipper’s fearful struggle against the author holding him.

“L-let go of me!” he cried, weakly swinging his sword about in moves that showed no signs of hitting Ford, as far out as he was holding him.

“Dipper!” Steven gasped, stopping dead in his tracks as he hurriedly set the rift aside and ran back towards the action. “W-wait! Stop!” The young Gem cried, completely panic stricken as both the events of a particular puppet show as well as his own haunting dreams the previous night came rushing back to him in an oppressive torrent. “I-I’ll give you my gem! Just please, don’t hurt him again!”

Both Ford and Dipper froze at this, surprised gasps escaping both of them as they looked to Steven with what seemed to be horrified shock. And yet, for as shaken as he was, Dipper used this brief distraction to his advantage, finally landing a blow on the author’s arm with the very tip of his sword. It wasn’t too large or deep of a cut, but it did cut through his coat and sweater and break the skin just enough to catch Ford off guard and force him to drop his nephew entirely. Steven quickly rushed over to him, summoning his shield and tightly grabbing Dipper’s free hand as the two of them stood together, more than ready to defend themselves against the demon who had caused them both so much pain and devastation.

Or, at least they would have been if Bill was actually present there at all.

“N-now, now, just calm down,” Ford advised, his tone much softer as he adjusted his glasses, finally allowing the boys to past the reflective glare. “Look into my eyes, both of you. It’s me, not Bill, I promise you.”

Upon seeing the lack of telltale signs of Bill’s possession, Steven and Dipper both finally let out the heavy breaths they had been holding in, yet even so, they hardly relaxed. Dipper in particular quickly picked up another round of hyperventilating, especially as he caught sight of the bleeding wound torn across Ford’s arm. A wound that he had inflicted.

“I-I… I tried to erase your memory…” he began, quickly dropping the Sword of Seasons as he pulled his hand out of Steven’s. “A-and then I hurt you! I hurt you with the same sword you made for me!”

“Dipper, it’s just a scratch, it’s fine,” Ford tried to reassure as he covered the relatively harmless injury, though his nephew was having none of that amidst his massive wave of guilt and anguish.

“No, its not fine!” he practically shouted, his tears quickly starting to return as he pressed his hands to his head in remnant terror. “I messed up so badly! I used the machine on you without even asking you about it because I couldn’t just wait for you to tell us the truth about you and Bill for yourself! And then I just had to go and make it even worse just by being dumb enough to believe you were possessed by him!”

“Dipper-” Ford attempted to interject once more, only to be drowned out by the boy’s ongoing hysteria.

“W-what was I even thinking?!” Dipper yelled, his hand now pressed tightly against his chest as his breathing grew even more short and frantic. “How could I be so stupid?! Every time I try to convince myself that I actually stand a chance against Bill, I only end up doing is ruining everything and it just keeps happing no matter how many times I try to fix it! B-but… but there just isn’t any way to fix this… There’s no way to fix me…”

Dipper had just about broken down into a remorseful, painful sob, yet before he could fall apart again, Steven quickly rushed in to help hold him together. He stilled, letting out an almost inaudible gasp as the young Gem suddenly hugged him from behind, wrapping his arms tightly yet securely around him in a steadying, comforting embrace. “You don’t need to be fixed,” Steven assured, his voice a gentle, warming whisper as tears started to well up in his own eyes. “You don’t need to fixed because you aren’t broken. You’re gonna be ok someday. We’ll be ok. I promise.”

As overwhelmed by his own many mingling emotions as he was, Dipper didn’t offer too much of a response to this reassurance outside of the small, somewhat weak sob he had been holding back. All the same, he did slowly reach up to place his hands over Steven’s, more than grateful for his support and solidarity in a moment such as this. While he wasn’t entirely certain that he’d actually ever truly be ok as Steven had said, what Dipper did want to believe that he did at the very least have a chance at someday moving past all of this lingering fear and dread. And, with someone like the young Gem standing beside him to keep him standing hopeful and strong, that was a belief that he didn’t have too many difficulties holding onto.

Ford let out a long, remorseful sigh as he watched the boys’ embrace slowly break apart, but even so, he largely averted eye contact with either of them, even as he hesitantly spoke up. “Dipper, Steven,” he began rather pensively, clear shame leaking into his tone as he continued gripping his injured arm. “I… deeply appologize for what just happened. I never intended to frighten either of you. But, I can say that if I really had been possessed by Bill, then you both would have done great, especially you, Dipper. I only wish I had been more like you when I was younger…”

Of course, given everything that had just happened, Dipper was quite surprised to hear such praise coming from the author himself. But Ford’s proud smile and comforting hand on his shoulder was indeed finally enough to put an end to his already fading panic attack once and for all as it gave him the realization that, perhaps this time, he hadn’t really made as momentous of a mistake as he at thought. “T-thank you…” he said quietly, somehow smiling in spite of it all.

Ford returned his nephew’s smile briefly, though all too soon it vanished into a look of shame as he glanced up at the countless images of Bill on the walls surrounding them. “I was a fool to hide all this…” he said, a hint of bitterness in his tone as he shook his head. “The reason why I’ve been trying to prepare you boys for Bill’s tricks is because Bill tricked me. It’s the biggest regret of my life. Bill wasn’t always my enemy, you know. In fact, I used to think he was my friend…”

1981

For six years, Ford’s ongoing research of Gravity Falls and its incredible anomalies had been going strong and steady. With the invaluable help of the Crystal Gems, he had unearthed discoveries that would certainly boggle the mind and ensure him a coveted spot in the scientific community once he one day published his findings. Yet even despite this success, the young researcher still craved to know more; he wanted to know exactly why Gravity Falls was such a hotbed for strangeness, where did all of its bizarre creatures and landmarks originate from, how did such unbelievable things even exist in their world at all?

And yet, for all his wondering and all his theorizing, these were questions that Ford never seemed to find the answers to on his own.

Even despite the Gems’ vast knowledge on the oddities of Gravity Falls, they themselves were plagued by the same questions of their origins as well. Which was why, when the collective group had dedicated themselves to uncovering those answers, they all too quickly hit a stark and heavy roadblock in their research. Weeks of intensive thought and pointless leads had gotten them nowhere closer to discovering the truth, and even despite Rose’s warm encouragement and reassurance, Ford was starting to become rather frustrated by his own lack of any concrete findings. If he couldn’t discover just why Gravity Falls was so strange in the first place, then what was really the point of any of his hard-earned research at all? Without a strong and proven theory to back it all up, certainly no one would ever believe his accounts of the paranormal, downright mythical sights the town had to offer. He might as well have packed all of his things up and headed home, a thought he had considered as his hopes running dryer and dryer by the day.

Until…

In order to clear his jumbled thoughts, Ford had, almost randomly, decided to take a break from his research to go on a calming walk through the woods. Bereft of the Gems by his side as he usually was, the author casually decided to venture down an unmarked path he had never taken before, only to happen upon a mysterious, somewhat darkened cave that had never showed up on any of his maps of the surrounding area whatsoever. Curious, Ford ventured inside, with only his lantern light to guide him, only to find something that left him reeling with amazement. The entire cave was covered in ancient markings that likely dated back thousands of years; though they it was somewhat hard to make out, the writing described a powerful being who possessed the answers to all of humanity’s wonderings. And yet, despite such miraculous claims, the cave markings were also quite grave, with dire warnings against summoning this being lest impending doom and disaster strike. All the same though, Ford was desperate; certainly, if such a being did exist and was as wise as these carvings claimed, then perhaps they might be willing to finally provide him with the truth he so intently craved.

And so, with only slight trepidation, the young researcher read the summoning inscription aloud, only for nothing to apparently happen as a result. Disappointed with what he assumed was nothing more than ancient legends and folklore, Ford left the cave, eventually deciding to take a brief rest under the shade of a tree not too far away. Of course, the young researcher hadn’t expected to doze off in the warmth of the afternoon sun, but he did all the same; and as he did, his dreams provided him with what he believed, at least at the time, was nothing short of a miracle.

Needless to say that Ford was quite amazed upon opening his eyes only to find himself floating amidst a vast, peaceful space-scape, one littered with countless stars, notes, lab equipment and even journals quite similar to his own drifting all around him. The young researcher had no idea what to make of any of this as he began exploring this intriguing space, only to be met by something, or rather someone even more bewildering.

“Hiya, smart guy!” Ford spun around with a gasp upon hearing this unexpected voice echoing through the void, but who he saw was the last thing he could have ever expected. It was a being that was, simply put, a triangle, bright yellow in coloration with only a single slitted eye to emote with and thin black limbs to over the young researcher a friendly wave of greeting. “Whoa, calm down there! Don’t have a heart attack, you’re not 92 yet!”

“W-who are you?” Ford asked, his initial alarm turning into immense curiosity at such a bizarre being.

“Name’s Bill!” he introduced himself brightly with a cordial tipping of his long tophat. “And your name’s Stanford Pines, the man who changed the world! But I’m getting ahead of myself; let’s relax! Care for a game of interdimensional chess?” With a simple snap of Bill’s fingers, a translucent chess board appeared out of midair, along with a comfortable chair on each side of it. “Have a cup of tea!” he exclaimed warmly, materializing a teapot and cup to pour into, one that floated directly over to Ford, who was more than fascinated by this point.

And thus, their friendly game of interdimensional chess was underway, and through it, the young researcher was able to learn a good bit more about his new acquaintance. According to Bill, he was a muse, one who chose to inspire one brilliant mind every century with his boundless knowledge and wisdom. And with apparent excitement in his tone and a playful wink of his singular eye, he cheerfully informed Ford that, impressed by his zeal in researching Gravity Falls, he had selected him to be the one to receive his otherworldly insight next. Of course, the young researcher was elated by such an incredible offer, and, without really thinking at all, he gladly accepted it on the spot.

From that point on, Ford wholeheartedly considered Bill to be his research partner just as much as he did with Rose and the other Gems. And yet, for as excited as the young researcher was by this new alliance, Bill gently cautioned him against informing the Crystal Gems of it, mostly to keep from arousing any distrust or suspicion on their end. While Ford was somewhat confused by this warning, he decided to uphold it nonetheless, for certainly the Gems, as stuck in their rather alien ways as they often were, wouldn’t understand the contract between himself and a higher being such as Bill.

Even so, right from the start, Ford saw the immediate benefits of his newfound deal with Bill. Not too far into their regular meetings within the dreamscape, the triangular being unveiled the very thing the researcher had been looking for: a way to finally answer his longstanding questions concerning Gravity Falls’ weirdness. According to Bill, all of the town’s strangeness leaked into it from another dimension entirely, and the key to discovering that dimension would be by way of a grand gateway, a portal to another world entirely. To this end, he even provided Ford with complete schematics to such a seemingly impossible machine, one that he gladly allowed the researcher to add his own ideas and equations onto to improve it even more. After all, it was as Bill told him: this was how genius happened, and all as a result of a little help amongst friends.

And, for the longest time, that was what Ford fully and fool-heartedly believed.

So construction of the portal began, with the Crystal Gems and Fiddleford to aid Ford on the corporeal end of things while Bill continued to provide his unseen yet very impactful assistance through his dreams. As weeks turned into months, Ford’s determination on the project grew even more determined and intent, especially as Bill regularly reminded him that the portal would certainly give him all the answers he had ever hoped for and then some. To further lend his aid, Bill even volunteered to keep work on the portal going, even when Ford himself was too physically exhausted to persist. By simply allowing his muse to come and go through his mind, possessing him as he pleased, the young researcher saw his productivity practically spike tenfold, pushing progress on the portal along even faster. What Ford didn’t notice amidst his enthrallment with the invaluable help his muse was providing him with, however, were the worried looks Fiddleford often sent his way, the confused whispers between the Gems as they wondered exactly what was going on, the general, unvoiced dread between his other partners in general as they questioned whether or not they were the only ones working with the author on his mysterious portal after all.

And all too soon, they all were quick to discover such worries were not unfounded, in perhaps the worst way possible.

The moment that Ford and the Gems hurriedly pulled Fiddleford out of the finished portal after he was accidentally sucked into it was the moment the author began to suspect something was wrong. However, his alarm only grew when the mechanic and the Gems all angrily quit the project in a huff, leaving him alone with his anxious pleas to Bill, pleas that were only answered by quiet, sinister laughter and a single, ominous message: “The door is open…”

Desperate to know exactly what went wrong, Ford ventured back into the familiar dreamscape him and Bill often met in, determined to get to the bottom of exactly what path his supposed muse had led him on. “Bill!” Ford shouted hotly, rushing towards the triangular being as he lingered before a tear in the space-scape, one filled with vague silhouettes of countless untold nightmarish creatures. “You lied to me! Where does that portal really lead?!”

“Hoho, looks like Mr. Brainiac finally got smart!” Bill laughed deviously as he turned around to face the author, no longer masking his malicious intent. “Let’s just say that when that portal finishes charging up, your dimension is really gonna learn how to PARTY! Right guys?” he asked his apparent ‘friends’ inside of the otherworldly tear, who all simply roared and cackled in a chorus of wicked triumph.

At first, all Ford could do was let out a gasp of shock as he realized just how much of a monster Bill truly was. But blinded by flattery and charming games as he had been, the author had never once considered that the demon planned on tricking him, had been using him as nothing more than a foolish pawn to meet his own destructive ends all along. “N-no!” Ford exclaimed, resolved to fix this incredible mess he had mad. “I… I’ll stop you! I’ll tell the Crystal Gems everything and together, we’ll shut that portal down once and for all!”

“Ha, as if!” Bill rolled his eyes, clearly not taking the author seriously. “You really think Quartzy and those Crystal Chumps are ever gonna trust you again after all this, then you’re gonna be sorely disappointed! All the same, a deal’s a deal, Sixer! You can’t stop the bridge between our worlds from coming, but it would be fun to watch you try! Cute, even!”

At that very moment, Ford awakened with a stark gasp, his eyes wide and his heart racing as he reeled with everything he had just heard. Bill had betrayed him, that much was clear and there was no undoing the massive mistake he had made by even trusting the insane demon in the first place. Which meant that the only thing he could do now was try to minimize the damage before things could get any worse. Acting quickly, the author shut down the portal in the hopes that it would never be active again, lest Bill gain access to the Earth as he so eagerly wanted. From there, Ford quickly filled what he could of his third and final journal with frantic and paranoid warnings concerning the demon and his tricks, even though he planned to hide his research so no one could ever finish the demon’s treacherous work.

And yet, despite these valiant efforts, Bill had been right in the fact that his deal with Ford still very much stood. No matter how much the author tried to protect himself against the demon, Bill still had complete access to his mind, just as they had agreed years ago. Just about any time Ford happened to slip into the depths of slumber, even amidst his growing panic and insomnia, Bill was more than happy to take over, littering the journal with his own inane coded ramblings and even going as far as to injure his pawn just for fun. In fact, it was in the midst of one of these wild spells of possession that Rose herself happened to discover just how much Ford had really been hiding from her all along.

“Stanford?” the pink Gem called as she entered into the author’s secluded study one chilly autumn day months after their own partnership had ended. “Are you in here? I-it’s been a while since any of us have heard from you and I’m starting to worry if-”

Rose cut herself off with a sharp gasp as she finally spotted Ford, digging a knife into his upper arm as he slowly looked back at her with a huge, uncharacteristic grin of sheer, sadistic glee. “Oh, I wouldn’t worry about Sixer here, Quartzy!” he quipped in a voice that the pink Gem immediately recognized. A voice she had never wanted to hear ever again. “In fact…” His smirk widened as he pulled out the blood-soiled knife. “I’d say he’s doin’ A-ok!”

“I-it… it’s you…” Rose shook her head in disbelief, her voice but a stunned, genuinely fearful whisper.

“Yep, it sure is me!” Bill exclaimed brightly as he began to walk over to the terrified pink Gem. “Right here in the flesh. Or, I guess in Fordsy’s flesh, but since he did decide to let me in whenever I want, I guess you could say it is mine after all!”

“B-but… but how did you… when did you-”

“Oh, it looks like Sixer really did chicken out about telling you after all, huh?” Bill asked with a knowing glint in his slitted yellow eyes. “Turns out I’ve been the one pulling his strings all along! Dumb old ‘Brainiac’ here let me give him the plans to a certain gateway that I remember someone else promising to build for me way back when. A gateway that’s gonna give me a one-way ticket to your perfect little planet, Quartzy.”

“M-my… t-the portal?!” Rose gasped, overwhelmed with shame and terror at the thought. “N-no… no, you… you tricked him! You tricked all of us, just like you did before! If I had known that you were behind all of this, I would have never allowed Ford to-”

“See, that’s just it, Quartzy!” the demon interupted smugly. “You didn’t know. No one did, and all because it was so easy to get him to do whatever I wanted. Now that I mention it, that sorta sounds like you, doesn’t it? In that case, you really do belong down here with these dumb old humans seeing as how you’re just as empty-headed as any of them are!”

Rose practically had to fight back the urge to draw her sword upon hearing such callous remarks, reminding herself exactly who the demon was possessing at the moment. “G-get out of him,” she ordered as sternly as she could. “Right now.”

“Oh, don’t worry, I’m leaving,” Bill shrugged casually. “But only ‘cause Fordsy’s about to wake up. In the meantime, have fun dealing with the fact that you’ve basically doomed your precious planet over several times over. See you and that rock you still owe me next time, Quartzy!”

And with that the author’s eyes fell shut, his entire body growing limp as he slipped into unconsciousness. Rose barely managed to catch him before he hit the ground, healing tears already spilling down her cheeks to work on the several injuries Bill had left behind as Ford slowly, painfully awakened.

“Hm… R-Rose?” the author groaned as he opened his eyes to find the pink Gem anxiously hovering over him.

“F-Ford…” the pink Gem whispered, holding back a sob. “Why didn’t you ever tell me a-about… about him…?”

Ford quickly looked away from Rose at this, knowing exactly who she was talking about and not even having to ask how she found out about him. “B-because…” he began, deciding to finally be honest with her. “I was too ashamed to tell you about the terrible mistake I made…”

“No,” Rose corrected, offering a hand to help him up. A hand that seemed to offer so much more than that and then some. “It’s a mistake we made…”

And it was a hand that Ford only barely took. For even though he immediately came clean to Rose about his deal with Bill as well as the demon’s inevitable betrayal right then and there, he still hesitated to trust her any further with helping him in the matter. After all, he had trusted Bill and had seen where that had gotten him. How could he trust Rose, or anyone else for that matter after such a cruel and immense deception?

But in time, he did decide to trust her again, though only for the sake of helping him hide his final journal away. Later he would wish he had only trusted her more, for perhaps if he had, it could have saved him from all of the tragedy and woe that had began following him like a shadow. And yet, he didn’t, deciding to walk alone in his fear and anger and carrying one, single sole resolve all the while.

To stop Bill Cipher’s twisted ambitions. No matter what the cost.

Present Day

“Bill’s been waiting for the gateway to reopen ever since,” Ford finished his lengthy tale, his tone still quite grave as Steven and Dipper tried to take it all in. “All he needs to do is get his hands on the rift. To Bill, its just a game, but to us, it could mean the end of our world…”

“Oh man…” Dipper sighed, shaking his head with immense worry. For so long now he had been preoccupied with the threat that Bill potentially posed to himself and his friends that he had never really even considered just how destructive and devastating the demon’s ends really were. But now, it was clear; if Bill had his way, then certainly nothing would survive, a fact that only served to make both him and Steven alike fear him even more than they already did, if such a feat was even possible.

“Oh man, indeed…” Ford nodded with serious agreement, briefly glaring up at one of the many images of Bill on the surrounding walls. “I know that I might never truly be able to compensate for the foolish error I made in trusting Bill, but I’d still like to think that preventing him from getting that rift is a start. Unfortunately though, I don’t think I’ll ever be able to make up for the brief time I actually decided to trust him over Rose…”

“Why not?” Steven asked with a worried frown.

“Well, simply because I never got around to making amends with her,” Ford sighed rather sadly. “I was so consumed by paranoia and dread at the time that the thought never really crossed my mind to just… appologize to her for all that went wrong between us. I chose Bill over Rose and I completely ruined our partnership and our friendship as a result. I’d easily count that as my second biggest regret because now… well, I doubt I’ll ever get the chance again.”

The three of them were quiet for a long time after this, all of them feel rather small under the scrutiny of the eyes of the effigies of dream demon on every wall around them. In time, it was broken, again by Steven, whose voice was small, but sincere as he addressed Ford once more. “I think she would have forgiven you…”

The author couldn’t help but finally smile in spite of this, knowing that, even if that forgiveness hadn’t come from the pink Gem herself, it still felt genuine and comforting all the same. “Thank you, Steven,” he said, choosing to believe that if Rose herself was still around, then perhaps she would have said the exact same thing.

An air of solemnity hung between Ford, Dipper, and Steven as they went upstairs, largely since Project Mentum was no longer a viable option to safeguard them against Bill. Their thoughts and worries were still largely on the dream demon, even as they unanimously decided to take a much needed soda break around the kitchen table in what was initially fretful silence until Dipper ended up breaking it.

“Ugh, I’m still so embarrassed about earlier…” he said, clearly bothered by his burst of blind panic in the study. “I’m such an idiot.”

“No, you’re not!” Steven chimed in earnestly. “You were just scared, we both were! At least this time, if we really had been up against Bill, we would have been able to fight him together. Just like we will next time, right?”

“Right,” Dipper said with a small laugh, truly comforted by the young Gem’s continued reassurance.

“Dipper, I can assure you, you have nothing to be ashamed of,” Ford added just as sincerely. “From now on, no more secrets between us. We’re not the first ‘idiots’ to be tricked by Bill, boy. But if we all work together, then we could be the last. And the same thing goes for you too, Steven. For now, I suggest following what the Gems said to protect your gem from Bill at all costs. I’m still not sure how him getting his hands on it would factor into his plans, but we can only assume that if he did get it, the outcome would not be good.”

Steven simply nodded at this, still resolved to do what he could to keep his gem out of the demon’s possession. Even if he did still secretly wonder if his own mother really was the one to promise it away to him or not…

“But… what about Bill?” Dipper spoke up anxiously. “I broke the machine! Now we have no way to protect the shack or the temple!���

“Did somebody say unicorn hair?!” Mabel shouted as she suddenly burst into the room, slamming down a fistful of shimmering, rainbow-colored hair onto the table. Pearl, Connie, Wendy, Grenda, and Candy all filed in behind her, all of them looking much worse for wear with torn clothes, bruises, scratches and various multicolored unicorn fluids covering them from head to toe. Even so, they all wore bright, satisfied smiles, their mission accomplished and their vengeance against Celestabellebethabelle and her deceitful tricks achieved.

“Um… no actually,” Dipper frowned, pushing Mabel’s hand away as she playfully waved the hair in his face.

“Oh. That would have been perfect,” she shrugged before quickly perking up again. “Either way, we got some unicorn hair!”

“Also some unicorn tears, unicorn eyelashes…” Candy listed before Grenda continued, holding up a large, ornate chest.

“They finally gave us this treasure just to get rid of us!” she proclaimed, dumping the contents of the chest onto the table to reveal a massive horde of gold and jewels.

“Not to mention we got to put a very irritating, very unethical unicorn in her place,” Pearl said, crossing her arms with a smug smirk. “So all in all, I’d say it was a very successful day.”

“Also, a pretty weird one, what with that butterfly sting operation and our all-out brawl with the unicorns,” Connie added, rubbing some unicorn blood off her arm.

“Whoa, that’s so cool!” Steven exclaimed, stars in his eyes as he looked to the girls. “I knew you guys could do it!”

“It… can’t be!” Ford exclaimed, just as amazed as he looked to the plentiful clump of unicorn hair Mabel had gathered. “This is a great day, girls! With this unicorn hair, we should be able to completely shield both the shack and the temple from Bill’s mind reading tricks!”

“Is it ok?” Mabel asked, her tone hopeful as she handed the hair over to her uncle.

“Its better than ok, its perfect!” the author laughed warmly as he placed a proud hand on his niece’s shoulder. “You’ve protected your family and your friends. You’re a good person, Mabel.”

“Aw, thanks, Grunkle Ford,” Mabel smiled, glad to hear it. After all, she’d much rather have the approval and support from those she cared about then some uptight, uncaring unicorn any day. “But today, I’ve learned that morality is relative!”

Before anyone had the chance to question her on this somewhat bizarre life lesson, Stan suddenly rushed into the room, hurrying past the treasure-laden table and grabbing a plentiful armful of it in his wake. “MONEY!” he shouted wildly as Amethyst ran in after him, grabbing yet another load of treasure with a rowdy laugh and another bout of her somewhat botched Spanglish.

“Viva larga CHASH MONEY!”

Not wanting to waste any more time to risk subjecting themselves to Bill’s tricks any further, Ford and Dipper got to work, Steven and Pearl both volunteering to join them in erecting shields around both the temple and the shack. It was a lengthy, somewhat dull process in gluing the long strands of unicorn hair around the foundations of both structures, with the temple in particular proving to be something of a challenge given its large perimeter and odd structure. Even so, as soon as they were done, a magical shield, covered in mysterious protective runes and symbols, bloomed around both buildings before fading back into invisibility, ensuring that them and everyone within them, would be in no danger from the dream demon’s tricks.

“Perfect!” Ford grinned as they finished up on shielding the shack. “This should protect us from Bill. As long as we’re inside either the temple or the shack, our minds—and gems should be safe.”

“What a relief!” Pearl sighed as she placed a hand on Steven’s shoulder. “If only we had something like this 24 years ago. It would have saved us a lot of trouble, to say the least.”

“Well, who knows?” Steven interjected with an encouraging smile. “Maybe now that we have these barriers put up, there won’t be anymore trouble!”

“Yeah,” Dipper agreed, unable to hold back his own allayed grin. True, Ford had said that the protection spell was only a safeguard and not actually a way to vanquish Bill once and for all. But if it truly could give them a much-needed reprieve from the demon’s mental games and relentless tormenting, then for now, it would be enough. “No more trouble. I’d say that sounds like a pretty good deal.”

Unbeknownst to the group standing outside of the shack, they were all being watched by a familiar, singular eye, one that was carefully observing their every move from his home deep within the unimaginable depths of the horrific Nightmare Realm itself. Bill couldn’t help but let out a mocking laugh as the motley crew celebrated their success, success that he knew was only going to be very short lived if he had anything to do about it.

“That’s what you think, Pine Tree,” the demon remarked, hands held behind his back as he finally looked away from his peek at the shack. “Still, I guess if I can’t possess anyone inside the shack or the temple, then I’ll just have to find my next pawn… on the OUTSIDE…”

At this, the demon’s eye rolled back, a variable roulette of people and Gems alike, either in or around Gravity Falls: McGucket, Lars, Candy, Pacifica, Jenny, Tyler Cutebiker, Mr. Smiley, Lazy Susan, Manly Dan, Sadie, Soos, Onion, Peedee, Greg, Robbie, Lolph, Dundgren, Barb, Jamie, Durland, Blubbs, Kiki, Sour Cream, Preston, Priscilla, Toby Determined, Mr. Fryman, Malachite, Nanefua, Lee, Nate, Ronaldo, Blendin, Connie, Shandra Jimenez, Kofi, Kevin, Grenda, Vidalia, Mayor Dewey, Gorney, Tambry, Yellowtail, Buck, Bud, and Wendy. As far as Bill was concerned, any of them would make excellent puppets to use in furthering his sadistic schemes along.

And fortunately for him, he already had the perfect pawn in mind…

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