#what-if fanfics

[thenoellebird]

what if Dipper caught a really bad cold and stan takes care of him and helps him feel better.

So...sickness? Not really a cold. But a sickness. Lol.

Fluff drabble/miniature sickfic with Dipper and Grunkle Stan below the cut

TW vomiting.

---

Dipper awoke very suddenly in the middle of the night. Once glance at the clock showed it read 3:00AM.

Oh no, he thought, feeling his stomach turn over as nausea stole over his body.

Dipper leapt out of bed, his stomach making an awful gurgling noise. He held a hand over it, his breath shaky. He was warm and cold at the same time, signalling a fever.

Mabel was sleeping peacefully, and Dipper didn't think it would be good to wake her. And of course if he told Grunkle Stan he was feeling sick, he probably wouldn't care anyway. He'd probably tell Dipper to man up, or something.

Dipper sniffed slightly and stood up from his bed. He was starting to feel like he would throw up and he'd rather not have a mess to clean up after.

He made his slow way to the bathroom, sweating and shivering the whole way, the nausea and dizziness getting worse with every step. Once he finally entered the bathroom and sat down in front of the toilet, shakily opening the lid with all the strength he could muster, he let out a small exhale.

He knelt in front of the toilet and tried not to think about throwing up, which of course, only made it worse.

Dipper let out a small, harsh sob, wishing his mom was there. She would rub his back and brush his hair out of his eyes, and tell him it would be okay. And then later she'd give him soup and ginger ale and help him recover with gentle touches and smiles of affection.

It felt selfish to want that, but it was all he could think of. It just made him feel colder, more alone, more sad--more pained--

Saliva filled his mouth and Dipper coughed and spit into the toilet.

Dipper's stomach heaved and he bent over slightly as he threw up, the acid stinging his throat and mouth, the pain making him whimper as he spat, coughed, and then puked again.

He didn't register the footsteps in the hallway, but he heard the sound of his grunkle's voice--in a tone he'd never heard before.

Concern.

And then he felt a warm hand on his back, and another gripping his shoulder, and Stan was right behind him, holding him steady as Dipper vomited a third time.

"Easy, kid," Stan murmured as Dipper whimpered. “Easy. You’re safe. It’s alright. Shh…”

Dipper shivered violently and felt sweat roll down his face and neck. But Stan was there now. And for some reason he wasn’t angry. He was holding Dipper firmly, but gently. And his words and tone were soft and kind.

Stan didn’t seem angry at all. Dipper heaved again and felt his uncle move his hand from his back to the nape of his neck.

“Shh. You’re okay…you’re okay…” Stan’s gruff voice murmured, softer than Dipper had ever heard it. “Let it all out. You’ll be fine.”

Dipper vomited again, and again, and again until there was nothing left in his stomach. Soon enough he was intermittently dry-heaving, feeling like his guts were trying to come through his mouth.

Stan was there the whole time, rubbing his back and murmuring small encouragements to him throughout the entire process.

“You’re okay, kiddo…Try to relax, it’ll be over soon…you’ll be just fine…I’ve got you…”

Dipper couldn’t tell his grunkle how much it was helping him, but it really was–warmth filled him even despite the fever which made him shiver. He wasn’t alone anymore. He was cared for. He had someone looking after him.

Finally, Dipper’s stomach calmed down. Stan helped him sit back on the floor and allowed Dipper to lean his small, shivering frame on him, his large, burly arms holding Dipper gently, but tightly enough so that he didn’t fall over.

“G-Grunkle Stan,” Dipper said shakily, “I’m…sorry…”

“Shh…don’t apologize kiddo. Happens to the best of us,” Stan murmured softly.

Dipper barely had the energy to feel surprised when he felt Stan press a kiss to the top of his head. It was more affection than he’d experienced from the old conman so far, but it was very nice. Dipper’s eyes filled with tears and he let out a small sob.

“Oh dear,” Stan chuckled. “You’re allowed to have feelings, kid, but crying’s just gonna dehydrate you more. We gotta get some fluids in you after your stomach calms down. Come on,” he added, shifting so that he could pull Dipper up against his shoulder.

And before Dipper knew what was happening, Stan was carrying him out of the bathroom. He was tucked on Stan’s shoulder, one arm slung over Stan’s large bicep and the other wound across his collarbone and around his neck.

It was very comfortable in Stan’s arms, even though Dipper was still shivering from his fever. But as they walked downstairs and Dipper relaxed in Stan’s arms, the shivering subsided a bit. He closed his eyes and the dizziness went away slowly.

A few moments later, Dipper was carefully laid on Stan’s bed. He groaned as he rolled onto his side, attempting to sit up and get off it, but Stan pinned him down with one hand, keeping him in place.

“It’s okay, kid. I just don’t want you to get your sister sick. So you’re gonna stay here, okay?” Stan murmured gently. “I’ve got a bucket over here. If you need to throw up again, it’s right here for you. I gotta go do some things, but I’ll be back to check on you in thirty minutes. Unless you want me to stay…?”

Dipper felt a smile cross his face, feeling warm at the assurance of his grunkle coming back to check on him.

“It’s okay, I’ll be okay for a half hour,” he murmured.

Stan slowly sat Dipper up and handed him a half-full glass of water.

“Put some of this in your mouth and spit it out, but don’t swallow it. Just rinse out your mouth, kay?” Stan said softly, his voice a low rumble.

“Kay,” Dipper replied, pouring the water into his mouth and swishing it around a bit before spitting back into the glass. Stan took it and set it on the nightstand and helped Dipper lie down again.

“You’ll be okay,” Stan whispered, smiling at Dipper. He pushed the boy’s hair out of his face and pressed a gentle kiss to Dipper’s birthmark. He smiled, remembering the day he met Dipper and Mabel–their birthday–in the hospital.

Dipper had been so small then, with that tiny birthmark on his forehead. “It looks like a constellation,” Stan had said. “What’s that one…” he trailed off, remembering a teenage Ford pointing out the different ones with a slight pang in his heart. “The big dipper, wasn’t it,” he muttered with a small smile tugging at his mouth. “Heh. That might be a good nickname when you’re all grown up. Big Dipper. Heh,” Stan chuckled, nuzzling his nephew’s head gently. The pair of them were so precious, and so connected–even now, Mason’s tiny hand was gripping his sister’s blanket. Mabel, for her part, had a hold on Dipper’s foot.

Stan stored the sweet memory away, and smiled at his twelve-year-old nephew, leaning forward to kiss his sweaty forehead again.

“I’ll take care of ya, kid,” he whispered. “I’ll make sure you feel better. I promise.” And I’ll find Ford. You’d love him.

And hopefully he’ll love you back And maybe if I’m lucky…

If I'm lucky…he’ll love me too.

---

iF y'all want any mini continuation of this lemme know. Idt it needs a part two personally, but I know y'all love your platonic grunkle-nephew fluff. SO lemme know!

[thenoellebird]

The fact of the matter is while this lines up nearly perfectly with my one what-if fic, I might need to make another one-shot-mini-mid-show-episode-fanfic type deal just to use it

You said it Mabel

[moonchild311]

"people who stay up at night are either insomniac or In love" people who stay up at night read gay fanfiction on AO3 what are you on about?

[uglynavel]

I wanna know where people have lately gotten the audacity to leave comments on fanfics talking about how much the fanfic sucked and negatively critiquing an author's fic like it's a published book review.

It pisses me off cause I've seen authors abandoned or delete their fics because of this.

You're getting fanfics for FREE! No one asked for your opinion.

I hope y'all know as authors we get email notifications when you comment so we see EVERY comment that's been left.

We also can see the negative reviews you leave when you bookmark our fics

[rae-butter]

Honestly, I love it when characters relapse. When someone who’s gotten over their anger issues falls into a situation so out of their depth they fall back on their old habits. When someone who’s learned to open up becomes a recluse again in order to cope with something outside their control.

There’s just something so horrible, so toxic, about watching a character grow and then slip back into their old selves in order to cope, bc you know they still care, that they’re the same inside, but watching them hurt so hard they don’t know what else to do brings a sense of catharsis.

[thenoellebird]

oH mY GOSH OH MY GOSH OH MY GOOOSSHH (tHATS MY FIC)

not only is this accurate as heck, this is beautiful artwork! I love your style and the way you drew the stan twins (lol stan bleeding out in the corner "yeah sure I can be drunk if thats what you want" XD) also love the coloring in the background. Overall, I'm honored <3 THANK YOUUUU

What If Ford Kicked Stan Out Immediately?

Check it out great fic

[yourfavecharacterisqueer]

hypothetical scenario for you all: the real king arthur returns. you meet him and you welcome him into your home. what is the first thing you do with him? keep in mind, this is a man from the 500s (he died in 542), and you are from the 21st century (2024).

[howtokillavampire]

but what if i read one of your fanfics and then went to your ao3 account and read all of your fanfics and left a comment on every single chapter of every single one and you got spam emails from all of my kudos and comments and it made you smile, what then? what if i brighten your day with my words like you did mine, what then???

[holeforzenin]

“Toji, look at me” Your breath hitched as you delicately reached to pull away his bulky forearm that was shielding his eyes. He cleared his throat with a raw sound as his exhausted eyes found yours. “Why won’t you look at me?”, you implored softly. The gentle tone of your voice was like a sweet melody to his ears that sent shockwaves through his spine.

How exactly could he look at you? His cock is twitching in his twenty-year-old girlfriend’s warm pussy and he’s aware of how wrong it is, that’s why he’s so shameful and guilty about it but you’re just so cute and irresistible that he simply can’t help it—Your presence alone overpowers his sense of propriety.

He knows he’s old enough to be your father, hell he’s probably even older than your father so that alone solidifies how inherently taboo it is to begin with. It’s so wrong and this shouldn’t be happening but fuck you’re just so pretty, there’s no dissent that you are an angel that graced him with your presence and beauty. “Do you love me?”.

You immediately felt the sensation of his hardened cock quivering against your velvet walls, growing even stiffer to your unexpected question. He couldn’t bear looking your way so he quickly looked away without making it obvious. You grabbed onto both of his big shoulders and squeezed them, signaling for his answer.

You began slowly rocking your hips back and forth, slowly grinding yourself on his lap as his weeping tip kissed more depths of your pussy. Soft moans escaped your parted lips from the bliss of pleasure. “Dadd—“

“Of course, I love you, Baby.” he finally confessed with a low sigh. His calloused hand reached up to tuck your hair behind your ears as he admired your beauty. You immediately let out a sweet moan from the intimate words you’ve been aching to hear.

“Okay”

[inkskinned]

this is just my opinion but i think any good media needs obsession behind it. it needs passion, the kind of passion that's no longer "gentle scented candle" and is now "oh shit the house caught on fire". it needs a creator that's biting the floorboards and gnawing the story off their skin. creators are supposed to be wild animals. they are supposed to want to tell a story with the ferocity of eating a good stone fruit while standing over the sink. the same protective, strange instinct as being 7 and making mud potions in pink teacups: you gotta get weird with it.

good media needs unhinged, googling-at-midnight kind of energy. it needs "what kind of seams are invented on this planet" energy and "im just gonna trust the audience to roll with me about this" energy. it needs one person (at least) screaming into the void with so much drive and energy that it forces the story to be real.

sometimes people are baffled when fanfic has some stunning jaw-dropping tattoo-it-on-you lines. and i'm like - well, i don't go here, but that makes sense to me. of fucking course people who have this amount of passion are going to create something good. they moved from a place of genuine love and enjoyment.

so yeah, duh! saturday cartoons have banger lines. random street art is sometimes the most precious heart-wrenching shit you've ever seen. someone singing on tiktok ends up creating your next favorite song. youtubers are giving us 5 hours of carefully researched content. all of this is the impossible equation to latestage capitalism. like, you can't force something to be good. AI cannot make it good. no amount of focus-group testing or market research. what makes a story worth listening to is that someone cares so much about telling it - through dance, art, music, whatever it takes - that they are just a little unhinged about it.

one time my friend told me he stayed up all night researching how many ways there are to peel an orange. he wrote me a poem that made me cry on public transportation. the love came through it like pith, you know? the words all came apart in my hands. it tasted like breakfast.

[thenoellebird]

https://archiveofourown.org/works/63731800/chapters/165936109

HERE'S CHAPTER NINE OF WHAT IF FORD KICKED STAN OUT IMMEDIATELY

Stan and Soos have a chat! it's good and it made me very happy. I love this ngl I didn't expect Stan to realize he could be loved, but it just makes this fic so much dang better.

TW for fic: Suicide attempt

[ao3-shenanigans]

What does the dead dove tag mean?

Wonderful question!

“Dead Dove” comes from this scene in Arrested Development wherein the character Michel Bluth opens a brown paper bag that reads: DEAD DOVE: DO NOT EAT. He looks inside and sees what is in fact, a dead dove. The then says: “Well, I don’t know what I expected.”

In fandom, the tag has come to mean: “pay extra attention to the tags!” And/or “this fic is what it says on the tin!”.

So if, for example, a fic includes the tags: Body Horror, Gore, and Violence along with the Dead Dove: Do Not Eat tag, the author is saying “Hey I’m not joking about these tags! Read at your own discretion!”

The tag acts as an honest intensifier to whatever tags are already in the work, as the author using it wants to give a double warning for their content, that it may be triggering and that the reader should proceed with caution.

One fic tagged with Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, also includes the tags: Seriously, this fic deals with some serious and disturbing content matter, mind the tags

Thanks for asking and happy reading!

[pixiemage]

Please, for the love of god, please don’t be this person. No matter how long it’s been since an update, no matter how many unfinished stories are sitting on their account, no matter what - do not be this person.

Not only is it insanely rude, but you also do more damage than you think be being such a self-entitled ass about something someone created for free and for fun. “This author” can see what you say.

RIP decency indeed.

[nondistinctmeganerd]

obsessed with the idea that outsiders (specifically the JL) hear whispers of Red Hood, and strapping themselves in for Batman to have another rogue on his hands, preparing for the sour mood and curt responses, and it just never happens??

there's talk about Red Hood becoming a force to be reckoned with and how he's gonna be less than easy to handle, but after word spread there was just nothing.

Flash asks Batman and he just grunts out 'its handled' and no one brings it up again.

Everyone is unsettled and slightly worried until an attack relatively close to Gotham has the Bats rolling up, right behind them is the infamous red helmet and an undeniable bat painted on his chest.

the JL comms explode into yelling

Batman mutes his earpiece

[krillenjoyer]

Coming back for the first time in ages to drop some afterlife angst

--> AKA Leo dies right after they fish him out of the prison dimension due to medical complications (EVERY BONE IN HIS BODY WAS BROKEN) and the rest of the family gets to grow up without him <333 Mikey dies at 36 after an incident with his mystic powers. He can't believe how small his big bro used to be.