#who knew Grenda would actually catch one right?? | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

invisibletinkerer · 5 years ago

Text

Fic: 30 Seconds Later (chapter 18)

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 - Chapter 16 - Chapter 17 - Chapter 18 - Chapter 19

Length: ~6000 words

AO3: archiveofourown.org/works/13715520/chapters/50183618

If it hadn’t been for those cracked ribs that made moving around more annoying than usual, Dipper might have been pacing the living room right now. As it was, he was seated in his grunkle’s TV chair with a stack of books and notebooks around him, chewing on the end of a battered ballpoint pen.

Grunkle Stan and uncle Ford should have been back hours ago, and yes, Stan had called Soos and said they’d be late, but that was also hours ago, and Soos hadn’t even thought to ask what had happened, and sure, Dipper could technically just pick up his phone and call right now and ask what took them so long, but if it was nothing grunkle Stan would just laugh at him and if it was something maybe no one would answer, or—

It was really, really hard not to think about Bill.

“You okay, dood?”

Dipper started, biting down on the pen, then winced from the jolt of pain from his ribs. He hadn’t even noticed Soos coming in.

“I’m fine, I’m fine.” He dropped the pen and tried to smile.

“Hmm.” Soos said. “That’s what you want me to believe.” He shrugged. “Anyway, I can’t think of anything more to do today. Still waiting for those cement guys to come fix the foundation tomorrow, but otherwise we’d be ready to open up the Mystery Shack again.” He paused. “Once Mr Pines has gotten things sorted out with his brother, I suppose.”

“Are you going home?” For some reason, the thought made Dipper uncomfortable. It was nice to at least have Soos tinkering around the house when grunkle Stan was away and Dipper himself couldn’t go anywhere.

“Nah. Think I’ll stay and wait for Mr Pines.”

“Oh, good. I mean, sure.”

Soos put a couple of books down on Dipper’s lap so he could sit on the dinosaur skull, then turned on the TV to some local news station. “So, tomorrow is the finale of Ducktective, huh?” he said conversationally.

“Yes!” Mabel shouted from the kitchen before Dipper could reply. “It’s finally time to find out who’s been outsmarting Ducktective all through the season! I think it’s that suspicious-looking cat – either that or it’s Ducktective’s own secret twin brother.”

“I have questions about the dog, though.”

“Look at this!” Mabel came rushing from the kitchen and twirled, showing off the duck portrait on her new sweater. “I finished my Ducktective sweater, and these hats, too. Now we can all be Ducktectives!”

Mabel, of course, would always be Mabel. Today she’d been so relentlessly enthusiastic that Dipper simply had to admire it. If she were worrying about anything, she definitely didn’t show it.

And really, Dipper hadn’t had a bad day himself. It had even been nice to spend some time indoors for a change. And completely regardless of any bad dreams or worries about demonic possession, he’d gotten a promise from the actual author of the Journals to play DDD with him later—just thinking about it made him giddy. Except that was assuming Stan and Ford would come back okay. And that he wouldn’t go back on the promise because he was— Well, Ford being too skittish and paranoid and tired to play games wasn’t totally unrealistic. Especially if something had happened.

Dipper realized to his own dismay that he was already chewing on another pen.

At first, when he’d thought grunkle Stan and uncle Ford would be back soon-ish, he’d spent a lot of time making DDD characters. First he made fantasy versions of himself and Ford, then he kept going with other people too just because he could. After adding Mabel, Stan, Soos, Wendy, Grenda and Candy, and even Li’l Gideon for good measure, he went on to make up game stats for Gravity Falls gnomes, and finally, with some input from Mabel, unicorns. Then, while Mabel biked down to town to buy more craft supplies and snacks, he’d spent some time catching up on the mystery novels he’d brought from home but hadn’t had time to read before. He’d wanted to take a look at uncle Ford’s other two journals, but Mabel told him Ford had put all three of them away in a locked cabinet, so that was out. He’d have to ask Ford about it once they came back. Which they still hadn’t.

“Can I be Ducktective?” Soos asked, bringing Dipper back to the present.

Mabel promptly put one of the hats on Soos’ head. “Of course you can! Dipper, you want one too?”

Dipper shook his head. “Maybe tomorrow.” He was not in a Ducktective mood.

“Okay.” Mabel pushed a book aside and squeezed herself down on the chair next to Dipper. “But stop worrying, bro-bro.” She might have been reading his mind. “Grunkle Stan and uncle Ford are fine. Grunkle Stan can punch out bears, zombies, gremloblins…” She counted on her fingers.

Dipper grimaced. “I know, but...”

Mabel pressed her shoulder against Dipper’s in lieu of a hug. “It’ll be fine,” she said, softer.

“Hey, doods,” Soos interrupted, pointing at the TV. “I think someone died.”

Both twins tensed for a moment, focusing on the screen.

No, of course it wasn’t about Stan.

“Heh.” Dipper released the breath he’d caught in his throat. “That old mayor… Yeah.”

“Mayor Befufflefumpter was an old and esteemed man,” Soos said solemnly, removing his Ducktective hat in respect.

“He did look kinda dying back at the Northwest party,” Mabel said with a small grin that turned into a grimace. “I mean, more than the rest of us.”

Dipper nodded. “And that was… was that just three days ago?”

“Yeah. Feels like longer.” Mabel frowned. “But at least grunkle Stan isn’t that old! I think.”

“No, he’s got to be—”

Dipper completely forgot what he was about to say when the front door to their left flew open with a bang.

For a moment, Stanford was silhouetted against the low-hanging sun, coat billowing around him and clutching Stan’s duffelbag his arms. The next moment he was gone down the hallway without a word, slamming the door shut behind him again.

No one moved for several moments.

“Where’s Mr Pines?” Soos asked slowly.

Dipper shivered. Uncle Ford, alone, rushing by without a word and without— This was too familiar. Too much like the worst case scenarios he’d been trying not to think about. He licked his lips. “Did anyone see if uncle Ford was…?” The words got stuck in his throat.

“I couldn’t see,” Mabel said quietly. Soos shook his head, too. And if they hadn’t seen his eyes either, then Dipper had to assume the worst.

His hand found Mabel’s, holding it tight. “We need to find out.” He forced himself to slip out of the chair, not sure if he was pulling Mabel along or she was pulling him.

“I’ll protect you!” Soos promised, getting in front of them. “But, uh, where did he go?”

“Maybe to the museum?” Mabel suggested, warily starting to move down the hallway Ford had disappeared into.

Dipper nodded. That was as good a guess as any. He could also have gone to Stan’s workshop, or to the bathroom, or—well, to Ford’s warded study. But if it was Bill, he wouldn’t be able to enter that room, and if it wasn’t Bill, why would he have come alone and ran off without showing his eyes? It was up to the three of them to find him and stop him from whatever he was doing and find out what had happened to—

A new sound behind them made them all jump. Dipper’s heart had already been trying to beat its way out of his chest, and now it seemed to stop completely. Somehow he’d turned around, instinctively clinging to Mabel, and with Soos’ arm lodged between them and the new threat, when he realized what the sound had been. The front door had opened again, less violently this time, and someone else was standing in the doorframe.

“Grunkle Stan!” He and Mabel both ducked under Soos’ arm and threw themselves at him.

“Whoa,” Stan said, awkwardly returning the hug. “Kids, take it easy, I’m—”

“Mr Pines!” Soos threw his arms up. “You’re okay!”

“Yeah, sure. Why wouldn’t I be?” Stan pushed the twins away a bit from himself, then cleared his throat. “Did Ford— I mean, he did get in here, didn’t he? Where did he go?”

Dipper and Mabel pointed down the hall. “He ran past without even looking at us!” Mabel said.

“And we couldn’t see his eyes,” Dipper added.

Stan pinched the bridge of his nose, looking tired. “Of course. He couldn’t have—” He chuckled slightly. “That’s why you look so spooked?”

Dipper and Mabel glanced at each other, then spoke at the same time.

“You’re saying he’s not—”

“Does that mean he’s—”

“Why did you—”

Stan waved them to silence. The way he seemed more exasperated than alarmed about this was strangely reassuring. “That was Ford, kids.”

“Are you sure?” Dipper’s shoulders might be relaxing a bit, but he still couldn’t help having some doubts.

“Uh-huh.” Stan finally entered the house and closed the door behind him. Taking a deep breath, he scratched the side of his head. “He was pretty distracted – probably didn’t even realize he was scaring you. I bet he went straight for the barrier.”

Dipper could still feel his heart beating too fast, but Stan wouldn’t lie about that. Probably. And if Ford was inside the barrier, then all would be fine.

“See?” Mabel said, maybe to Dipper and maybe to herself. “Everything’s fine.” She started to smile, but then she stopped and stared at Stan. “Wait. Grunkle Stan, you’re bleeding.”

Dipper took a closer look at Stan, and Mabel was right. There was a large matted red-brown stain in his grey hair, like he’d hit his head a while ago. Besides, he realized, Stan’s hawaii shirt was torn at the shoulder and there were several ugly, new-looking bruises on his exposed arms and legs. It looked like he’d been fighting, and without having seen the other guy Dipper wasn’t sure if he’d won or not. Unless the other guy was Ford, and then—

Stan hmphed and picked up his fez from the coat hanger, putting it on his head and hiding the blood. “I knew nothing good could come from leaving the fez at home.”

Mabel took Stan’s arm – putting a hand over a large red bruise – and cradled it. “Did you get into a fight?” she asked. “With uncle Ford? Is that—Is that why you didn’t come back together?”

“What? No, sweetie, we—” Stan stopped with a sigh. “Heck, that’s what it looks like, isn’t it? No, really, Ford is not possessed and we didn’t fight. We actually got along pretty great.” He smiled tiredly.

“But something happened.” Dipper crossed his arms.

Stan shrugged. “Yeah. Most importantly, the demon didn’t destroy the world, the rift is sealed in a superglued briefcase and—” He flashed a grin “—Ford and I still make a pretty good team.” He pulled his arm back from Mabel. “Come on, let’s go see how he’s doing.”

* * *

Ford locked the door behind him on sheer panicked fumes, the need to hide the rift away overriding all other concerns. There were too many unlocked doors in this house. The front door was unlocked – he didn’t even have the key to the front door. Was it ever locked or could anyone just go inside? What was Stanley thinking?

The liquor cabinet was the only additional lockable space in the room. He had to take the journals out to make the sealed briefcase fit inside, and after relocking the cabinet he ended up sitting on the floor before it, clutching three hand-bound volumes of his own hubris close to his stinging chest.

Trying to breathe. Trying to think.

The light from the stained-glass window above the couch taunted him. He’d boarded that window up – 30 years ago – for a reason. It wasn’t safe.

Someone pulled at the door, and Ford flinched. But it was locked, and no one entered.

“Stanford?”

“Stanley.” Ford let his forehead fall forward against the books he was holding. There were goosebumps running up and down his arms, but at least his voice wasn’t shaking. “Did he follow you?”

“Who?” Dipper’s voice interrupted, and Ford realized with a start that Stanley wasn’t alone. There was a family there, and it wasn’t that he minded their presence necessarily, but their very existence reminded him again of how little control he had of anything. It wasn’t his house. It wasn’t his family. As much as he’d managed to slip back into some kind of comfort zone with Stanley – he wasn’t even sure the 60-year-old man could count as his twin. Nevertheless, the threat to the world was still his responsibility.

“He didn’t follow,” Stanley said. “And if he had, it would have been because he was concerned that you took off like a loon, not because he would actually rob us.”

“How can you be so sure?” Dan hadn’t tried anything, no, but— “He was in contact with Bill!”

“For one dream. He was gonna laugh it off! And then you practically screamed at him that something suspicious is going on!”

Ford snapped his jaws shut at Stanley’s exasperated tone. There was some sense in his brother’s point of view, but only if Dan really had been harmless. But if Ford was right, his reaction had been the only reasonable one. “You can’t know that he would have laughed it off. And even if he would, Bill might contact him again. Or anyone else. Do you understand what that means?”

“Yeah.” Stanley’s voice softened. “Can I—Can we come in?”

Ford stiffened automatically. “Why?”

Because—” Stanley seemed to hesitate. “Please,” he said finally.

Ford couldn’t help a weak smile at that. “You used to hate that word.”

“Still do. But, you know. Could you open the door? Please.”

If Stanley was doing Bill’s bidding, he this would be exactly the kind of manipulation that—

No.

No, Stanley wouldn’t. And Ford knew that perfectly well, especially after everything that had happened today. There was no good reason not to open the door. It was just Stanley and his family. They’d probably go away if he told them to, but that would leave him alone to stew in his own thoughts again, and—did he want that?

He’d been so used to being alone. But everything was different now. He was safe from Bill’s reach in this room. The children had fought for him. And Stanley was—Stanley was back at his side, despite everything, and today they’d been a team again.

He should let them in.

Ford shook his head, squeezed the journals one last time before hiding them under the pile of blankets on the floor next to the couch, then going to open the door.

Stanley was leaning against the doorframe on the other side. He was wearing their father’s fez again, but his expression was one their father would never wear. “Thanks,” he said.

Behind him were Mabel, Dipper and Soos, looking at him with varying degrees of relief. Ford could see all of their eyes, all of them human, though of course that didn’t have to mean anything when Bill could manipulate without possessing. Still. They wouldn’t.

His old twin went past him with a pat on his arm and went to sit on the couch, followed by the others. Ford remained standing, even when Stanley beckoned for him to sit down. No. He needed to explain himself, first.

“Listen, Stanley,” he said, closing the door behind them. “All I’m saying is that you can’t be sure that he was harmless. It would have been easy for him, and he obviously didn’t understand the stakes. You’re not a mind reader – you don’t know how tempted he was to try!”

“True,” Stanley admitted with a small shrug.

“And even if there was no harm done, we shouldn’t have risked accepting that ride.” He gestured with both hands for emphasis. “Anyone could be manipulated by Bill, enough to—”

“Enough to break and enter into an old tourist trap for no reason?” Stanley shook his head. “Because most people wouldn’t. And—” He leaned forward, “—if someone does, we’ll deal with it.”

“But we don’t—”

“Anyway, you scared the kids half to death when you rushed through the door just now,” Stanley interrupted, straightening his back. “They were convinced you were Bill until I showed up.”

Ford blinked, thrown by the sudden information. “Oh.” He’d been focused on getting the rift out of danger – had there been people in the living room? Had they seen him? “I didn’t mean to—I mean—That’s unfortunate.”

“It’s fine, uncle Ford,” Dipper said. He was, indeed, looking rather warily at Ford, but he also had a wry look like he was ashamed of being scared. Like there was no reason to be afraid, when in fact there was every reason.

“No, I—” Ford ran a hand through his hair. “I’ll try to do better.” It could have been Bill. He needed to make sure it was clear that it wasn’t, next time. Alternatively, just stay in this room. That would be the safer option.

“Hey,” Mabel said. “Can you tell us now what happened to you guys today?”

“Well.” Stanley glanced her, then at Ford. “We ran into Manly Dan on the way back. Turns out he’d just had some kinda dream about Ford’s demon friend.”

Ford flinched. “Don’t call him that.”

“What? Manly Dan?”

Stanley was being flippant, playing stupid, and that was so achingly familiar that Ford had a weird urge to grab the old man before him and give him a noogie. He didn’t. Instead he said, back straight and both hands behind his back, “Bill is not my friend.”

“I know that, Poindexter.”

“But,” Dipper said, “Manly Dan didn’t attack you, right?” His eyes went from Stanley’s obvious bruises to Ford’s tattered clothing and badly hidden bandages.

“Nah, that was something else. Had a run-in with some local weirdness.” To Ford’s great relief, Stanley seemed ready to leave it at that, though the children didn’t appreciate it as much.

“Hey! You promised no more secrets!”

Stanley looked at Ford, raising his eyebrows as if asking permission.

Ford took a deep breath. “Not now,” he said. “Perhaps later.” Perhaps when his mind wasn’t reeling quite so much. Seating himself carefully on Stanley’s other side, he changed the subject to the most important facts. “In any case, I sealed the rift in a sturdier container that will make it more difficult to break. It still exists, and is still a danger if stolen, but it’s—safer than before.”

He swallowed down another unhelpful measure of fear. “But the fact remains that Bill wants it. And you would do well to remember that he could appear in anyone’s dream, trying to deceive or tempt.” He paused, looking at the Dipper, Mabel and Soos. “Have any of you had any strange dreams, or—”

“It’s been my policy since preschool never to listen to the advice of a triangle,” Soos said solemnly. Ford glared at him. This was no joking matter, and it was especially concerning that the young man seemed completely sincere.

Dipper grimaced. “I have bad dreams about Bill all the time,” he admitted, looking very small. Ford lifted a hand to console him, but put it down again. He had no idea how to even start. The boy might even have mundane nightmares about Bill, some of which were now Ford’s fault.

“We all know about Bill.” Mabel said confidently, putting an arm around Dipper’s shoulders. “We’re not going to listen to him, especially not in a dream.”

“Yes.” Ford found himself relaxing slightly. “I know you won’t.” He did know that – and the fact that he was sure about it made it slightly easier to breathe. “But it’s not just you. You see, even if Dan Corduroy didn’t decide to rob us, Bill could—Bill could appear in anyone’s dreams. And if he decides to work on tricking someone—” He stopped, unable to bring himself to say ‘like he worked on me’.

The kids looked reasonably worried at that, but Stanley crossed his arms. “Yeah,” he said. “But hey. It still has to be someone willing to do a robbery, and I’m the closest this town’s got to a professional burglar.” Ford raised his eyebrows at that, making Stanley grin. “And even thirty years ago,” he continued, “I would’ve been kinda put off by the idea of stealing an unopenable briefcase just because some triangular guy in a dream told me to.”

Ford nodded slowly. “That might be true, but—” He hesitated. It might be true for Stanley, but he knew from experience that he couldn’t have said the same for himself. “Someone else may welcome the challenge. Or be convinced that the briefcase contains something they desperately need. Or—I don’t know—have a particular grudge against you and your Mystery Hut!”

“Mystery Shack,” Stanley corrected, completely missing the point. He added, “If it happens, we’ll handle it. I promise you that.”

“There’d be no need to handle it if you’d used the—” Ford mumbled between his teeth, but Stanley heard and interrupted him.

“Don’t.” The word hung in the air for a moment until Ford relented with a sigh, leaning back and turning his eyes to the ceiling.

Stanley gave him a pat on the shoulder.

“Just—” Ford took a deep breath. “Just be careful. We don’t know who Bill might try to manipulate.”

“Yes, young-Mr-Pines, Sir!” Soos said with a clumsy salute, still looking completely serious. Ford tried not to scowl. The young man whose relationship to Stanley still hadn’t been properly explained to him seemed simple, but might easily be the weakest link in their defenses.

Dipper chose this moment to square his shoulders and straighten his back. “Uncle Ford!” he said. “Do you want to play Dungeons, Dungeons and More Dungeons with me?”

Ford blinked as he switched gears, as he admitted to himself that yes, he wanted to. The very mention of the game made the corners of his mouth want to curl into a smile, and after a moment he gave in to it. He’d been looking forward to it. He was still alive, still somewhat sane, and—this place was as safe as it was going to be. There was still danger, and playing a game was selfish and irresponsible in the face of that, but—

But he wanted more than anything to allow himself to get lost in a harmless, nostalgic fantasy world with neat statistical values. And he could. “I would love to.”

Stanley whistled. “There’s hope for you yet, ya big nerd,” he said fondly.

Dipper made a little excited jump in the couch, marred by small wince and touching his ribs, but his smile didn’t falter. “I’ll go get the books!” He hurriedly left the room, returning quickly with a set of rulebooks, character sheets, graph paper, DM screens, dice and other game pieces that he set down in Ford’s lap.

“Look, here, I made a bunch of characters that are kind of based on us, and some monsters here, and I’ve been thinking about what kind of dungeon we should play, and I was hoping you could be the DM, but—”

Ford flipped through the core rulebook while listening to Dipper’s thoughts about the game. Dipper might be a child, but he certainly knew his way around Dungeons, Dungeons and more Dungeons. There was something so normal about his excitement, about the idea of running a dungeon for him, something that felt like a breeze of fresh air across Ford’s murky mind.

It was okay. Bill could not and would not reach him right now.

Soos departed for wherever it was he lived before long, and Stanley said something about food and disappeared for the kitchen. Mabel was on her way to leave the room, too, but Dipper just looked silently at her – and then she stayed, settling by the desk and starting to draw some kind of bird on a piece of paper.

Something clenched inside Ford when he realized that Dipper’s rulebook didn’t actually have the same rules he knew. Even DDD was different from his game. He pushed the stinging feeling away – he could handle this – this was what he had to work with if he wanted to play with Dipper. The new rules mostly made sense and were in some ways actually more efficient than the ones Ford knew. In fact, if he’d stopped to think about it, using his mind for something as completely frivolous as memorizing new game mechanics was like a palate cleanser. An easy and thoroughly accomplishable task, for once. He was still tired, and hurt, but all of that was shuffled off to the back of his mind as he started to focus on the fantasy.

Dipper assured him that he knew the rule book well enough that Ford could always ask him about the specifics, so it took no more than ten or fifteen minutes for Ford to feel confident enough to run a basic dungeon. The boy had been making characters, so he already had a halfling ranger ready for himself, and an elven wizard NPC that he’d made for Ford. In fact, he had made a whole stack of character sheets, but one PC and one NPC for support was enough to run a simple adventure. This would be a test run.

Stanley interrupted them with “food for the nerds” – some macaroni and cheese for the children and another canned soup for Ford – but after eating, they were ready to start. Ford sat down straight-backed on the floor, closed his eyes for a moment and tried to recall how to set a scene. The traditional taverna. Rowdy NPCs imparting information. A kidnapped princess and directions to the evil mage’s lair.

Ford had expected himself to be rusty at first, but somehow, the game flowed.

Dipper was a bright player, using his character’s abilities to the best effect, and always willing to be thorough in his exploration. He did indeed have a good grasp of the minutiae of the rules, but he avoided exploiting them in ways that didn’t make sense. It was a joy to see him think and fight his way past the monsters and traps, and Ford could keep his wizard NPC mostly to support spells, discussion of worldbuilding details, and kindly mentor advise.

When Dipper at one point was stumped by a trap, his sister unexpectedly appeared from the sidelines and pointed out a solution Ford hadn’t even thought about.

“I didn’t think you wanted to play!” Dipper said, surprised.

“Nah, I’m not playing, just helping you out!” she said. “By the way,” she added, “You should try to use that magic mirror you found upside down. See what happens!”

Clever. Judging by Dipper’s frown that variation wasn’t in the rulebook, but Ford could see how it would make a difference. And even more interestingly – in order to have made such an observation, she must have been following the game rather closely for a while.

Dipper didn’t seem to mind his sister’s input as they went on. On the contrary, they made a good team. If DDD had even existed when Stanford and Stanley were their age, Ford could easily imagine Stanley refusing to play but then jumping in like this – a painful thought in all its warmth. The game had been published only after Stanley had been gone. And he seriously doubted—well, the present-day Stanley would surely not even consider it.

In any case, Mabel was creative, and Ford saw no reason why she shouldn’t be a player.

The short dungeon he’d set out to run for Dipper was almost over, but Ford felt inspired to continue, so he turned to the girl and asked her if she wanted to be the princess.

“Wasn’t the princess kidnapped?”

“She might have already escaped. If you want to play her, that is.”

“Well…” She frowned. “I don’t want to do any math homework! I’m just here to help Dipper’s character out of trouble. Or into trouble!”

“Then do that as your own character,” Ford encouraged her. “I’m sure Dipper can handle all your dice rolls and calculations”

“Yes, of course!” Dipper agreed. “Come on, Mabel! I have a character here for you and everything!” He pulled out a halfling bard from the pile of character sheets. “I didn’t know she was a princess, but I suppose—”

Mabel pursed her mouth. “Can I have purple hair and gemstones in my eyes?”

“Uh.” That sounded painful. “You can, if you want to.”

“Okay!”

Ford told her that the princess had been able to escape on her own, but she’d overheard the evil mage talking about his plans to lure adventurers into a trap and use their brains for a nefarious potion to give himself the power to conquer the world. She was now running through the dungeon when she stumbled upon Dipper’s character.

Mabel obviously had the ability to get massively in character if she wanted to. She told the story of the mage’s evil plan in a lot more detail than Ford had, gesturing wildly for emphasis. “This means we gotta stop that evil wizard guy and save all the people he’s already captured!” She physically pulled at Dipper’s vest. “Come on, we have to hurry before he eats their brains!”

Ford improvised a second dungeon on top of the first one, this one being the mage’s actual castle. The enemies here were stronger and the layout more convoluted, but with Mabel as an active player, the adventurer party was also stronger and more unpredictable.

The first time he made a zombie come lumbering towards them, Dipper immediately took on a fighting stance, but Mabel looked excited.

“I’m a princess bard, right? So I’ll sing at it! If it doesn’t work, you two will have to sing with me!”

Ford raised his eyebrows. He’d seen real life zombies defeated by song, but in the context of the game, he’d never heard of it. “Are there any zombie-defeating bard songs in this version of the game?” he asked Dipper. “Or should we—”

“We’ll make one up,” Dipper decided. “What do you call it, Mabel?”

“The Song of Triple Rainbow Light,” she replied with a zombie-killing grin.

Ford and Dipper quickly agreed on some spell stats and added it to her character sheet while Mabel described colorfully how it looked and sounded. Rolling the die, the song didn’t defeat the zombie on its own, but it weakened it enough that Dipper could vanquish it the next round. The kids hi-fived.

“Way easier than real zombies,” Dipper said, but before Ford could think to ask him about it, Mabel pulled their adventuring party along, wanting to know what was ahead.

What was ahead was the literal dungeon, a row of prison cells. The first one was ominously empty.

Ford looked up for a moment, and Stanley unexpectedly met his eyes from the couch. How long had he been sitting there? A small shiver ran over Ford as he realized that he was so caught up in the game that he hadn’t even noticed his brother’s presence. And if he didn’t notice what was going on around him, how could he be ready if—

“Hey, Ford?” Stanley said.

“Yes?”

“Think there’s any other prisoners in any of those cells?”

Ford blinked. Had Stanley been paying attention? “Well, the players haven’t checked yet, so—” He’d been thinking about adding a cleric to the party before the confrontation with the evil mage, but it wasn’t absolutely necessary. “Why do you ask?”

Stanley’s eyes flicked to the side. “No reason.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “Only. Maybe there’s some big strong fighter type who ended up in wizard jail through no fault of his own and would be willing to help a couple of kids out with the monster punching business. And gathering pretend treasure. Hypothetically.”

Ford stared at him.

“Grunkle Stan!” Dipper squeaked. “Are you going to join us?”

“Yeah, well, can’t let you pipsqueaks have all the fun without me, can I?” He grimaced. “And you can stop staring, Sixer. This doesn’t mean I’m a nerd, just that I’m willing to try it out. Ok?”

Ford might possibly have been literally beaming. “Of course,” he said weakly. There was something suspiciously like real happiness surging through him, and he didn’t know what to do with it. “Dipper, you had a fighter character based on Stanley ready, didn’t you?”

Adding Stanley to the party made it easier for the adventurers to take on multiple enemies at once, which was good, because Stanley tended to favor a brute force solution to every situation, being loud and boisterous and more than a little bit reckless. Sometimes it didn’t work, but Ford was rather certain he chose to play this way on purpose. At one point he ended up in a trap and made the kids laugh with his daring playing-with-death slapstick antics.

It was fun.

It took all of his focus away from everything else to the point where he didn’t even remember to question it, and it was fun.

The final confrontation with the evil mage became tense – a few unfortunate dice rolls disabled Mabel’s and Ford’s characters and severely wounded Dipper’s – and Ford was already thinking of ways to salvage this in case it ended in a TPK. At that point Stanley announced that he’d put his character’s every point into an insanely risky move that would involve channeling power that he really wasn’t made to channel. The chances of succes would be abysmal, but if successful, Ford conceded it might be their only chance to take the mage down once and for all before the whole party was vanquished.

Afterwards, Ford suspected Stanley might have cheated on the die roll. It didn’t matter. He saw it roll, and he saw it land on a perfect natural 38, saving the day and the game, and all he could do was laugh.

It was hours past midnight when they stopped playing, but for once Ford was just comfortably tired rather than exhausted. The kids were yawning but happy. Stanley decided without objections from anyone to bring a few raggedy old mattresses and bedclothes down and let all of them sleep right here in Ford’s room.

Ford fell asleep almost as soon as he closed his eyes, and slept until noon. If he dreamt, he had no memories of it.

#gravity falls #fanfic #30 seconds later #it writes #guess what?#this fic is still a thing that is happening

27 notes · View notes

formal-fauxpines · 6 years ago

Text

Unofficial Say It Sequel- Chapter 1: Say It Gently

This is one of my first fic ideas when I decided to start wrtiting Pinecest fan fics. Inspired by the fic Say It by @pinewreaths, I wanted to explore the idea of what happens to Mabel and Dipper after she becomes a semen eating vampire and how that affects their relationship after first feeding on him.

Big shout out to @pinecesttrain for helping with editing and helping with further inspiration. And of course big thanks to @pinewreaths for giving me their blessing on using their work that helped set me on the path to write.

Meal time for the Pines Twins came around as it usually did: Door locked and blinds drawn, Dipper lying on the bed, his pants drawn down with his throbbing member exposed for his sister to extract the vital fluids she needed to sustain herself. Her head bobbed up and down on his shaft with long, languid licks and sucks to ensure the utmost pleasure, usually providing the largest payoff of the sweet ambrosia that was her brothers seed.

Since Mabel’s transformation into a vampire a few months ago, meal times had become a bit more unusual to the outside world. Luckily for them, they already were used to the unusual, especially since the twins being unusually close was such a norm.

In becoming a vampire, no thanks to her lying, asshole, vampire ex-boyfriend, Mabel was granted most of the usual afflictions that come with the condition. However the one that took her, and subsequently her brother, by surprise was the method of feeding that she needed. Not the usual blood that is so emphasized in media, stories, and mythology, but weirdly enough, semen.

In a moment of emergency, her brother had been willing to oblige her need to feed and provided the necessary fluids for her. However, with her hunger too great to control, his plans for a more modest feeding method quickly degenerated into a rockus night of fellatio that he had never thought he would be engaged in. Not that he minded,after all, Dipper was always willing to help his sister when she needed it,no matter what the task.

A few days after the first feeding, the twins were able to contact their great uncle Ford, via a special video phone he made for them, getting fed up with Skype, and ask about any conditions of Vampirism that he may have discovered. !

“Ah yes! Vampirism! In fact, I’ve thought about it a few times when I needed the physical capabilities to conduct my research, but the associated issues would hinder me in the long run so I would always need to change back. Good thing too. Some dimensions I found where blood didn’t exist. In all my research I did find a cure for it, however the time limit on reversing the condition is 24 hours.” The twins sighed in exasperation, feeling defeated in the news their great uncle revealed.

“However the condition is manageable,” Ford started up again with a little more enthusiasm. “I was able to find some artifacts, spells, and other techniques that can offset some of the less, desirable traits of the condition. Aside from the usual annoyances, all you have to do is make sure you have a viable food source.” The twins sighed in relief this time. There was a way to have Mabel live with it. “By the way, what is your prefered food source, Mabel?”

The twins froze, caught off guard by Ford’s nonchalant way of asking. What was he getting at? What other feeding did he mean? Did he know about theirs? “C-come again?” Dipper broke through the tense silence.

“Yes, yes, the substance you need to draw your energy from. My research has found that vampires actually have many different types of feeding styles. The most common, of course, is blood. Which can usually be human or animal. Also sweat, saliva, and even a few more unusual fluids like urine, or semen. I have found these particular vampires to be more under the classification of a crossbreed between vampires and succubi. Really fascinating to find out how many different ones there are in the world. So which is it?”

“Blood!” both the twins shot out with urgency, hoping it wasn’t too obvious they were hiding something.

“Alright, a common type then. have you found a viable source yet, children?” Ford asked, not giving any inclination of suspicion to the twins’ quick reaction.

“Candy was able to swipe a bag for me from a recent blood drive, and Sir Dipping-sauce here was nice enough to let me have some of his blood in a few emergency cases,” Mabel said, trying to keep calm with the half-truth she had to tell her Grunkle.

“Very good, just be careful though. If you don’t get a source of food regularly the hunger builds up and things can get a little… crazy.”

CRASH!!!

“STANLEY!” Ford yelled, turning his head to look off screen with a tinge of irritation in his eyes, “I told you to stop messing with my experiments! Sorry kids, I have to go. Let me know if things change.”

The line disconnected and the screen turning back to the devices menu settings. The twins were grateful that the chat was cut short as neither of them were sure they could hide the reddening of their faces. They knew exactly how wild things could get if her hunger was left unchecked.

“Welp”, Mabel said, slapping her hands to her knees after a moment of awkward silence . “Looks like we got to find me a new food source then.”

“Hehe, y-yeah. I guess we do.” Dipper joined, in scratching at the stubble on his chin.

The following weekend, Mabel and Dipper worked hard on finding a new food source. Mabel knew the easiest method for finding one, but she didn’t much like the prospect. She always considered herself a love expert, and felt her skills improved as she grew older and learned more about relationships and dating. However using her skills to just land a guy to suck off she felt would besmirch her talents. BESMIRCH! Plus, she was not the kind of girl to mess with someone’s emotions, she learned that lesson years ago.

The Pines twins’ plan of attack was to find any guy looking for a good time as much as she was looking for an easy meal. The two would peruse areas for guys who may be looking for an easy hook up, and being college that seemed easy enough. On weekends they would go to the bars, frat houses, and any type of party that looked wild enough. The point was to find drunk bros, which much to Mabel’s chagrin, was not her type.

Mabel busted out her best to attract and draw in the easier prey: Tops that showed off more cleavage, skirts that rode a little high, heels that accentuated her booty. She knew she would hit the mark when, on more than a few occasions, she got Dipper red in the face or had him stare a little too long when asking him what he thought. If it was good enough for him, it was good for some fast food. With Candy and Grenda by her side as her wing women, she felt like it would be easy pickins.

Dipper also took up a role in her hunts as more of the scout. He would look in areas Mabel couldn’t normally go, like the men’s restroom. Even though she was a sperm-sucking vampire, Mabel still had standards. He would also offer to go to other bars nearby, increasing their range, and allowing Mabel a second set of eyes if she couldn’t find anything for herself.

Dipper was a little against this method, and memories would surface of how protective he could be from similar guys trying to hit on her in the past. How he would intervene if the guy wouldn’t take the hint. She always felt a comfort in how he would watch out for her, making her heart give a little flutter at the thought. The thoughts were pretty nice, in a weird way. It made her kind of glad their options were a little limited, since it meant he agreed to help despite his misgivings.

Despite all their efforts, however, Mabel kept running into the same problem every time. She would land a guy, and get back to his place or hers. They would start by making out, Mabel thinking sexy thoughts to get her through the start if she wasn’t into the guy, which was most of the time. Admittedly, Mabel would occasionally have a flash of Dipper and his manhood run through her mind. The taste of his seed, the smell of his musk, the warmth and texture of his shaft on her tongue would all do the trick to push her past her current prize with the more delectable memories of her exquisite first meal, driving her hunger enough not to care. Still, most of the time once they got past the make out phase, she would start to wane in her appetite for the guy in hand. The saliva would at least be a slight appetizer which gave her some energy, and a slight taste of what was to come. Or in many cases, didn’t come.

Her vampire senses presented both a blessing and a curse, allowing her to see, hear, taste, touch, and smell exceptionally better than before. However, the smell and taste became an issue to her. When she tried to select her prey for the night usually she could only catch a faint hint of their smell among the myriad of scents in the usual pick up spots. But once she got some one-on-one time the smell became more noticable and harder to ignore. If the taste of the make-out session didn’t send her packing, then the whiff of what lay to the south surely did.

The first few attempts to eat were more forced, Mabel going about a more ‘giving it the old college try’ mentality, as she was not used to such a casual take on such an intimate action. She tried to dive right in, in some cases holding her breath to avoid the scent. The taste of pre-cum that exuded from their member gave a stronger taste than the make-out sampler. It was too strong in some cases, ending the session earlier than expected. If she was able to get past the drops that were a precursor of what came next, she regretted it afterwards.

The surge of life-sustaining fluids tasted nothing like what she received from Dipper. It drove her sense of taste over the edge to the point of being physically ill in some cases. She wrote it off as being from having too much to drink that night, not that she had a drop to begin with, and excused herself to purge the contents of her belly.

After a few times to try and get a new food source from weekend to weekend, Mabel learned to check waste baskets and bedding to get a better look at the menu rather than lead a guy on with the make-out session. Picking up on trace amounts of fluids was easy enough, but led to the same disappointing conclusion that she was not hungry enough to drink what she thought tasted like a milkshake made with carrot juice and squid.

A few times the guys would get belligerent, which Mabel could understand, but did not take kindly to. In those moments she was always happy knowing that her new condition provided her the means to defend herself just fine. Dipper was always sweet telling her he would stay close in case she needed help, but was always proven unnecessary after she showed she could take care of herself now. He still made it a point to ask her to contact him in case things got out of hand. They never did, but she still felt a warmth knowing her brother always wanted to be her hero in her time of need.

At the end of the night though, he really was her hero. Perhaps not in the normal sense, but he had saved her from a few nights of going hungry. After the first few failed feedings, Mabel had turned to her brother, asking for something to hold her over in case she didn’t get enough energy from her supposed dinner. He had been a little taken aback, surprised that Mabel had struck out with the guys she tried to get with. After hearing her situation though, he was willing to oblige.

Since they had already went all the way with the first meal he provided her (or second, technically) it wasn’t the most awkward thing to ask him. They decided to arrange that if she needed a quick pick me up shot Dipper would provide it. He would rub one out in a condom like the first time when she asked, agreeing to this method since she didn’t really want to press the issue of getting it straight from the source. Partially embarrassed from how she lost control last time and partly because she didn’t want to admit how good it made her feel to feed off of him.

But since she did lose control, she settled for a sack lunch. Despite the fact that it wasn’t fresh, the ambrosia she remembered still tasted as sweet and savory as ever, filling her with a warm sensation through her whole being as she imbibed it. Yet as she enjoyed what she could get from him, more and more she would ask for a late night snack as she kept failing to feed. Even if she was successful, she would often ask for a chaser to get the terrible taste out of her mouth and wash away the dissatisfaction.

“Another dud, huh?” Dipper asked as Mabel begged him for another semeny snack. He rubbed the back of this neck nervously as he sat on the edge of his bed. “I’m sorry this keeps happening, but… you sure about this, Mabes?” “I mean, I know I was your first source, but I can’t be that much better than the guys you were going after. I’ve seen the kind of guys you go boy crazy for. Some of them seemed your type from what I guessed.”

“You don’t understand, Dipper. I thought they were going to be okay, but when we stepped away from the crowds and got some one-on-one fun time, their B.O. would make my stomach go ‘OH NO!’” she said in a silly voice reminiscent of the Kool-aid man, punctuating her last statement with a playful poke to the stomach.

Dipper sighed out in willing defeat. “Well, I don’t want my sister to starve. And Ford did say it would be bad to let you go too long without feeding. I mean, we have first hand experience with that.” He blushed at the thought of it.

“Hehe, yeah. I guess I got a little too cray-cray on my bro-bro then. I promise I’ll be better and keep it under control. You did give me a lot that time though and I’m not as hungry as then, but I am getting a little bit now,” she said shyly, biting her fingers, her fangs showing slightly.

“I guess we could give it another go. If it could help us avoid another frenzy. Just give me a minute and…” He reached for his sock drawer and pulled out another set of condoms and tore off a square.

Mabel reached out and grabbed his wrist firmly with a restrained urgency.

“Actually, I was thinking we could maybe try sooooomething else?” she said, biting her lower lip.

“Um-uh, o-o-okay? Uh, w-what did yooooouuuu haveinmindexactly?” Dipper asked with a nervousness in his voice. His eyes showed a glint of fearful curiosity. “I mean d-did you want to just, um…” He coughed in his fist, unable to finish the thought, instead looking down to his crotch.

“N-no, I mean kinda, I mean not yet, I mean…,” Mabel took a deep breath to calm her flustered self from saying what she wanted. “Grunkle Ford did say that vampires could use other food sources too, right? When I was trying to do some ‘meal prep’, so to say, I got a slight taste from the make-out sesh. I mean it wasn’t like a full first course, but it gave me just enough to make it through the night, or at least to you.” She stared down to the floor as she said it, grabbing at a lock of hair, twisting it in her fingers nervously. “Kind of like having cold fries before having a four star meal. So maybe we can give that a try? I mean if you don’t mind your sis macckin’ all over you?” Mabel explained spitting the hair out and adding a slight giggle.

Dipper thought about it, contemplating the scientific ramifications of it all. “True, I mean, I don’t mind giving you what you need in the end. You know, since we already did, well… you know.” He blushed and coughed into his hand again. “But if this is what you want to do then I’ll do it...” His lips turned upwards into a warm, comforting smile and he placed a hand on her knee, “...for you.”

“You really are the best, broseph.” She clasped his hand in hers and gave it a gentle squeeze. “So how do you want to ya know… do this. I don’t want to break you as bad as last time”

“How about you start and take it how you feel. After all, it is your ‘snack time’.”

“Okay then, I mean, no biggie. We did this before, kissing and all ya know. Just one twin helping the other this time.” Her face flushed a slight pink as she leaned into him. The closer she got, the more warmth she could feel from his breath. He met her half-way, connecting with her lips, softly and gently as to test the waters of this new/revisited experiment.

Mabel felt a slight jolt of energy right when their lips made contact. She was reminded of drinking hot cocoa, the warmth of the sweet liquid making contact with her lips before letting it in. This was a thousand times better in her opinion. Sweeter than any cocoa she could buy, with a perfect heat that warmed her to the core without burning her, and a scent that she learned from experience was about to come.

Remembering her first feeding and how that tasted, this one seemed more like a light snack. Lighter, like a small drop, but still giving nourishment. She found it peculiar thinking about all those other guys, that they couldn’t give her this amount of energy from even the full salty shebang. Just this kiss might have been enough for her. She wanted more. She needed more!

Mabel pressed more into her brother’s lips. He seemed just as eager to receive her. Their mouths opened slightly, allowing their tongues to pass though and connect. Soon the drop on her lips turned into a drizzle on her tongue as they embraced one another. Their hands began grabbing frantically at each others clothes and hair. Mabel was desperate to get a grip, as though doing so would make him give her more of what she was tasting.

The full flavor of his saliva was just what she expected from the initial kiss. It was as if she were drinking up the most delectable beverage in the world.The closest thing she could compare would be the sweetest honey, mixed into the smoothest of creams, with a slight hint of a fruit that is so amazing it may have not been discovered yet. She knew well enough that Dipper didn’t partake much in these foods, so she accounted this blending of flavors as his own personal essence. She couldn’t get enough.

Every bit of pressure, every smack of the lips, every grab at her tresses of hair and clothing was like she was being treated to the best dining service she’d ever had. She was disappointed when she had to stop for a breath, much like in the past drinking too heavily to quench her thirst. She panted heavily after her intense snack session, looking down at her brother.

Lips pink and slightly swollen, eyes half-lidded with a sense of shock and euphoria, a small trail of saliva that lay at the corner of his mouth from when she pulled away. He was breathing just as hard, if not harder from the intensity of what they shared. But, His body didn’t have the stamina of a vampire to keep up, and he looked exhausted.

“Oh my gosh Dip! I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean to lose control like that again. Are you alright?” Mabel laid her hand on his face, cupping his cheek. He nuzzled into it and grabbed it with his, squeezing her hand lovingly. Her heart skipped a beat at the sight of him being so warm and affectionate to her touch. A small flutter began to rise in her stomach.

“Yeah Mabes,” he said between breaths. “I’m fine. Just never had a make out session that intense before.”

Mabel cocked her head to the side in confusion. “Really?” The gears started turning in her head at all what he just said could mean. She decided to take a chance on it. She turned her head back upright with a devious smile spreading across her face and eyelids half-lidded. She asked again with a sultry tone, “Really?”

“I mean, I’ve had some pretty good ones in the past, but I think you just set the bar.” After uttering those words Dipper’s eyes shot wide open realizing the confession he just made. “I-I-I mean, um, ah...”

She pressed a finger to his lips as if to push the pause button on his mind. It seemed to work, as he halted his hectic explanation. “Relax broseph, after all we’ve done since I transformed, it’s not the weirdest thing to admit. Plus, if I were to be really honest, you make a great kisser too. And not just because you taste so amazing.” She bent down to him lapping up the small bit of spittle at the corner of his mouth left behind from her earlier departure, and followed with a kiss to the corner of his mouth. “Thanks, Dipper, for being so understanding.”

He reached up to stroke her hair and wrapped his arms around her to cuddle on the bed. “Of course Mabel. I’d do anything to take care of you,” he said gently as she wrapped her arms around him too, and slipped into a warm embrace.

After about 20 minutes of blissfully cuddling with each other, Dipper broke the silence. “Hey Mabel? Not to ruin the mood, but I got a question for you.”

“What’s up Dip-dop?”

“So did that give you the energy you needed then? I mean. I know you need um, you know, the other stuff, to be fully nourished, but how did that work for you?” he said in his usual sense of curiosity he had for the supernatural but underlined with and awkwardness for talking about this particular subject with his sister. .

“Dang Dip,” Mabel said with a bit of disbelief at what he just asked. She sat up out of the cuddle session, feeling its warmth and enjoyment snuffed out by awkward sciency questions. “Can’t just let that curious mind take a break for once, can you?” She tapped her index finger to his forehead as she asked him.

Placing her hands on her hips she began to give him the answer he was looking for with a hint of annoyance for being such a wet blanket to the warm and silent affection they were sharing. “If you must know, it actually filled me up better than any other guy I tried with. Like, even when I got a full load out of them,” she said matter of factly and ended with her arms crossing across her chest.

Dipper shifted a bit at the last statement showing discomfort at the premise. Mabel picked up on it, all her senses making it hard to ignore. “Um, sorry, Dipper. Just wanted to be honest with ya. Must be getting too used to these feeding arrangements that it seems normal now,” she said, patting his thigh, hoping to ease his distress.

“No no. It’s fine. I mean, I asked after all,” he replied, trying to shake off his embarrassment at the mental image of Mabel with those other guys. “But, like, ya know... I just can’t help but wonder. What makes this so different,’’ he gestured between the two of them. “Why are you getting more out of me? Like, what makes me so special?”

“I dunno. Maybe those guys were just not that tasty to begin with? Like even regular Mabel would have passed them up if given the option. Or maybe you just happen to be so sweet helping a girl out like this,” Mabel added, poking Dipper in the cheek, drawing circles into his stubble with her finger.

“Hehe, thanks for the compliment Mabel,” he said, grabbing her hand gently to cease the playful pokes, “but seriously, if we don’t get this feeding thing figured out soon, I may just be your soul source of food.”

“Well,” she said with a little hesitation in her voice, “it’s not like it would be the worst thing ever.”

Dipper was a little caught off guard by the comment. “Wait, what?” he asked in disbelief.

“I mean, sure it may be a little awkward to find a new food source. But as long as I have you to keep me fed when that falls through I should be alright,” she said with a chipper attitude. Then she turned serious and sour. “Unless, of course, this arrangement bothers you.”

“What!? No, Mabes, of course not!” He raised his hands between them as if to deflect her accusation, shaking his head to assure her it wasn’t true. “I was just thinking about your, uh, situation. You know, I don’t want you missing out on anything because of this is all. I can handle anything to make sure you are fed. Just that...” he sat and stared at the floor silently, hesitation and concern about what he was going to say plastered on his face.

“Spit it out Dipper,” she said, slightly annoyed at his hesitation.

“You really don’t mind me being your source of sustenance? I mean,” he looked away scratching his neck, a few drops of sweat forming on his brow, “don’t you find it a little... weird?”

“Sir Dippingsauce I am surprised at you. We’re the MYSTERY TWINS, weird is in our genes. And we already passed the bounds of weird with me being a sperm-sucking vamp. If that happens to come from my twin bro-bro so be it,” she said defiantly. Mabel settled herself down and placed a hand on Dipper’s shoulder, speaking calmly. “But if it bothers you, we can always find another way.”

“No!” He jerked his body to face her straight-on making her release his shoulder. His eyes appreaed filled with worry at the suggestion . “I-I mean... like I said. I just want to make sure you are okay with this,” he added before turning his head to stare at the floor.

Mabel leaned in to deliver a kiss on his cheek, her lips parting just enough for her tongue to graze along his skin and leave a wet spot. She pulled back and proceeded to lick her lips, humming in pleasure. Dipper felt a shiver run down his spine, causing Mabel to giggle. “Yep, just as sweet since I last checked.”

She gently grabbed him by the back of the neck and placed her forehead to his. His face emitted a greater heat and his pulse quicked. “Don’t worry Dipper,” she said in a soft, gentle tone. “We’ll check with Grunkle Ford about this whole thing. Come what may we’ll get this figured out. Now come back here and cuddle me dag-nabbit.”

Dipper looked up into her eyes. She could tell just in this short talk that it was what he needed. Concern still flitted in his gaze, but also comfort and love. Her senses picked up on his vitals, telling her that he was calming down.“Okay, okay. ‘Come what may’ it is,” he said embracing his sister once again.

The sound of his heartbeat, his personal scent, and warmth he emitted comforted her in ways she hadn’t thought possible. For her, next to him now, everything was perfect.

Then again, she thought, maybe it always was.

#faux-fics #pinecest #unofficial say it sequel #vampire mabel #fauxpines #inspired by pinewreaths #edited by pinecesttrain

33 notes · View notes

muted-galaxies · 6 years ago

Text

vampire falls

Vampire falls chapter 1- this is our town and we run the show

Under her feet the staircase creaked, the feet belonged to Mabel Maria Pines,the once bubbly care free resident of gravity falls oregon, known by everyone in town. That was of course a different time in the towns history, before the vampires made themselves know, before everything changed. Gideon Gleeful, of all people, was the ruler of the vampires. Mabel sighed in expiration, she was main bait for Gideon, he wanted her, her everything and it made her absolutely sick to her stomach to think about.

Mabel pov

I am part of what I like to call 'the resistance', It's mainly just me, Wendy, Grenda, Candy and Tambry because really? Thats all thats left of the town. We founded the resistance when Dipper went missing, just a month after the vampires came out of hiding. Honestly when the vampires took over, we all did have little budge on changing our ways to fit what they wanted of us. When Dipper was gone that morning , either taken to be blood cattle by the vampires or drained by one of them, I don't know and i choose not to think about it, the whole vampire take over became more real to me.

When the vampires took over, they took all the men and I don't know why i have a feeling about the time period of most of the higher up vampires, none of them were born before the 20th century meaning the concept of women having any rights is alien to them. To blend in the one rule we did agree to quickly was the dresses which we paired with choker to easily block vampire bites.

We had taken over the mystery shack as our base, we've lived here for the better part of two years now, it's a pretty convenient place actually, surrounded by magic forest full of mythical creatures that hate the vampires as much as we do. Oh and i can't forget the underground bunker where great uncle ford did most of his research about gravity falls' weirdness.

Getting to the bottom step i looked around and am greeted with a sight that had grown to be normal to me by now, wendy was sat around the table with an old, clearly loved but beaten, ipad.i took in a breath,let it out and I walked to her sitting down near her. She looked up at me, her green eyes had lost the colour they once held,her hair scruffier than when we first met, the vampires took such a toll on all of us

"good morning Mabel , sleep well" Wendy said her voice was scruffy and scratchy but i payed it little mind instead i nodded at her. Mornings could go better i guess but they could go a whole lot worse at that thought my hand found itself near my neck,near a bite mark sure its hidden by a choker but the memory of it will always be there to me.

I used to cry most nights,wanting my brother back by my side, some people just don't understand the bond we shared,he knew all my secrets and i knew his.He always had my back and i'm sure he would be for me right now in this situation,I think he'd stand by me ,would he be proud of me for standing up and taking on responsibilities?

"So do we have any plans for the vampires,then " i asked shaking my head to bring myself back to reality.I reached for an apple in the middle of the table and took a bite of it,savouring the taste in my mouth.Wendy shrugged at me before going back to her tablet, i guess she's stumped. It wasn't that i wanted to go out and kill but i will admit i get a bit of a ' thrill ' from it ,im going insane . stupid Gideon , stupid vampires .

Thinking back on everything i pick up on changes, drastic ones from the blissful preteen i was 2 years ago.The main thing that always seems to strike me,and others, is my looks im skinny yes but even describing me as that is too large , arms that are nothing more than skin and bones, a waist that used to be my proudest feature but weirdly enough a chest area that has stayed firm in place, reminding people of my femininity. Attached to my right leg, under my skirt is an old belt fashioned into a strap that can hold a knife for close up combat. As for the dress , i had no choice in the matter, gideon personally picked this dark purple harlot type dress. The one thing i do agree with of gideons clothing choice is the black laced gloves to cover my bruised hands.

I'm not special of course in the dress department, ALL females in gravity falls were given dresses against their will, all from different time periods, all with different connotations to the vampires. Gretta for example was given a formal, yellow coloured dress that honestly lasted 3 days before getting ripped and not repaired. Candy on the other hand had her dress picked out by amelie, one of gideons elusive sisters that appeared when he came out as a vampire, was a lolita style dress with alice in wonderland elements, i think it was the bow on top her head that made it feel that way to me. .

The two teenagers had identical black and white dresses that the middle class apparently wore in the victorian era, wendy has to stick to the dress as she leaves the shack with us regularly. Tambre gets to stay out of the dress and wear something more comfortable for her.

"We do have one plan i guess , we Strom the vampire castle and take back some of the boys that should help us on our attack ratio " Wendy said bringing me back to the whole situation right infront of me, i look at the ginger girl with a raised eyebrow before looking at the other two girls, they had the same look i did.

With confirmation from candy and gretta i turn back to wendy once again, putting my hand on the chair so i could properly lean forward at a slight angle.

"OK so the plan is we send candy and Gretta out first then we send out Mabel and Wendy , got it " tambre said speaking up from the other side of the table, she looked up from her laptop as we all nodded at her.

She produced a key, holding it up to show us all, the silver had clearly seen better days yet parts of it still managed to catch the light,she then pushed the key across the table over to me "trust me , I have friends on the inside,well one but who's counting " she looked over at Wendy who sighed in relief, i'd assume that's probably the first news she's heard about any of her friend's in a long while,the slight relief she felt however was quick to go replaced with the same stoic face she always wears.

With that i pushed the chair back into the table and turned to candy and gretta "well if that's our plan i say we do some training" i said, they looked at each other before looking back at me nodding, i nodded back and the two of them made their way towards what used to be the gift shop. I'm about to follow them when i feel a hand on my shoulder digging in slightly.

I turn around to see wendy clutching my shoulder giving me a worried look all of sudden "we need to act quick,gideon will be getting restless,he'll come for you mabel and you know it" i nod at her holding my hands close to my chest before stepping back,shrugging off her hand slightly

"Prepare for the worst" i say streching my arms out infront of me, lacing my fingers together "expect the worst"

Gideon POV

In the depths of the castle we had taken over in the first few days, was where i decided to sit grinding my teeth together,rubbing my fingers together. The silence is blissful though to me it cannot and never will be complete silence.

Still i sat in my study "mabel darling,you've outran me for too long,you'll be right beside me, just you wait" i said to myself before picking up my goblet of someones blood, the girl had struck one of my heart strings about 2 years ago when she was 12 now she had grown into a extremely beautiful 15 year old.I got a taste when we came back out of the shadows,that one drop has driven me crazy and I wanted to get her as mine and only mine for the rest of her life.

The sound of another person being drained came from the other end of the castle,it was peaceful to hear a humans poor scream as they hold onto the last bit of life they have , don't fight what's coming affter all this is our town now and we run the show, i put the goblet back down on the table,relaxed into my chair but then again one thing still troubled me, always in the back of my hand, where was dipper pines .

That boy was supposed to be the way i would get Mabel to give up her fight against us and be mine,bite that human, drain him infront of her in a helpless state and take her. I knew i'd have to find that boy if i were to ever taste her again, its only a matter of time, he cant hide from me.

4 notes · View notes

codylabs · 6 years ago

Text

Chapter 3: Hunt the Huntress

“So Ford was right!” Mabel exclaimed. “There ARE more out there!”

“It’s better than that!” Dipper added. “If this really is robotic life, life doesn’t work alone! That means there’s a whole ECOSYSTEM out there! A robot ecosystem somewhere out in the forest! Just waiting to be found!”

Wendy was strangely silent. “Hmm.” She said.

They found their bikes outside the manor, and began to mount up.

“That means Juan has a mom and dad to go home to!” Mabel said, stepping on the first pedal. “I’m so happy for him! But I need to get all my cuddling done now before you guys find them!”

“Cudling. Right. Sure.” Dipper said. “Okay! Wendy. Where did you find this thing? Let’s head back to that area of the forest, and have a look around! See if we can’t find some other signals or footprints to track…”

“Wait!” Mabels said. “They don’t have footprints! They have tank tracks on their feet! So it’ll be tracking track tracks!”

“Ha ha! Track track track…” Dipper laughed. “Right?”

“Yeah.” Wendy mumbled, her voice still quiet. “Let’s do that.”

“HOLD UP THERE, FELLERS!” McGucket’s voice interrupted them. “I think I may have somethin’ fer ya ta use!”

“’Sup?” Dipper asked.

“Eh, just these contraptions here.” McGucket pulled a half dozen cup-sized devices out of his pocket. “I hootinannied up a couple radio transmitters to give out the same signal that your robit does. So you can use ‘em for bait, decoys… I ain’t rightly sure how ya plan ta go about this, but if you ever wanna use ‘em, just flip that there switch.”

“Hey, thanks!” Dipper took two, and Wendy took the rest.

“Yeah, awesome!” Mabel said.

“No problemo!” McGucket did a happy little jig, turned back toward the manor, and waved goodbye.

“That’s so great!” Mabel said. “You’re so totally prepared for this now!”

“Wait, aren’t you coming?” Dipper asked.

“No, I’ve got to introduce Juan to Candy, Grenda, and Waddles! They’ll adore him! Could I have the other pair of gloves?”

“Uh…” Dipper handed them to her. “Sure. Just… Um… Just keep an eye out, all right? We don’t know if Juan’s family is gonna come back for it, and they could be… Dangerous…”

“Okay.” Mabel said. “I’ll stay in the shack then, and invite everyone over! Ford has ray guns. He won’t let people near.”

“Hmm.” Wendy mumbled. “Yeah. You go do that.”

“Hey.” Dipper noticed his friend’s grim expression. “What’s bugging you?”

“Here, take the box, Mabel.” Wendy said. “Run on ahead. I think my bike has a flat tire; we’ll catch up.”

“All right!” Mabel rode off merrily with Juan in her bike’s basket. The little creature chirped happily in the breeze. (Aunt Mabel definitely was its favorite.)

Dipper turned back to Wendy, and her bike with perfectly fine tires. “Hey.” He said. “What’s wrong?”

She sighed, and thought for a moment. “Have you ever played ‘Space Androidoid 2?’” She asked.

“Space androidoid?” He frowned at the change in subject, and worked his memory. “Wasn’t that a game franchise back in the 90’s or whatever?”

“Yeah. Soos plays it. Have you played it?”

“No.”

“Okay.” She said. “So… In this game, you play a bounty hunter. The android, yeah? This bounty hunter was sent to this dangerous planet, the homeworld of this super dangerous alien creature. Right? These creatures are nearly extinct, but the last of the species are on this planet. They may be dangerous, but there’s not many of them left, right?”

“Right.”

“In the game, your job is to kill them. You have to kill them. Every last one of them. Because the risk they pose is too great. If they fell into the wrong hands, if they spread across the universe, if they grew larger… The risk is too great. People could die. So… They need to die. Every last one of them.”

“You’re saying…?” Dipper glanced over his shoulder, to make sure Mabel hadn’t doubled around and snuck back near, as she was prone to do. “You’re saying… We should kill these things? Exterminate them?”

“I’m telling you that it might be the best option. Depending on what we find in the forest today, we might need to. I’m preparing you for that.”

“That’s… Wendy, that’s wrong. We can’t just… Exterminate an entire species. Just because they’re different than us, or just because they scare us. It’s irresponsible. It’s ruining the environment. It’s destroying something priceless and irreplaceable…”

“Heck YES it’s destroying something priceless and irreplaceable. Heck YES it’s ugly, and there would probably be a better solution if we were richer, wiser, or more powerful. But at the end of the day, that may be the only solution we have. And they aren’t just different, they’re dangerous.” Wendy showed him her bandage. “Juan is a juvenile the size of a kitten, and he almost cut my finger in half. Could have done worse is he was on full charge, or if he were actual trying. This took him about half a second. Now ask yourself, how big do these things get? The size of a person? The size of a cow? The size of a car? A bulldozer? A house?”

“We have literally no idea…”

“Imagine the worst-case scenario, dude.” Wendy said. “The very worst. Imagine if they were really big, like tank-sized, and found out they could leave the forest. Imagine if they found out that the wide world is filled with metal: cars and buildings and those guardrails on the roadside and telephone wires… In civilization, they would have all the metal they could eat, and no natural predators. They could cut a car in half and eat it. With the people still inside. They could chop bridges up and let them crumble. When the military comes to evac the town in their helicopters, they could jump out and chop up the choppers. With the people still inside. When they roll down the roads to the big city, they could eat away at the foundations of the big skyscrapers like beavers, and let them fall. With the people still inside. The government might have to nuke the city. WITH THE PEOPLE STILL INSIDE. Are they bulletproof? We don’t know. Can they shrug off an RPG? We don’t know. Are they invulnerable to nuclear fallout? We don’t know. Can they swim? We don’t know. How fast do they eat, grow, and reproduce? We. Don’t. Know.”

“Wendy… You’re being paranoid.”

“So? Our paranoia is what keeps us alive. And keeps others alive. People of our ‘profession’ can’t afford ANYTHING less.”

Dipper considered this long and hard. “But… We don’t even know that they’re that bad at all… What if they don’t get much bigger than a dog? What if they could be easily domesticated, or trained not to eat stuff we like? What if it could actually all turn out to be just like Mabel sees it: happy and adorable...”

Wendy threw her arms in the air. “Yeah!” She said. “That would be great! That would be the most awesome thing in the world! My brothers would totally LOVE a robot dog! Mabel would too! But… But remember the last adventure we had together? YOU were the one who taught me a real meaty lesson that day: life isn’t Mabel Land. If we think it is, if we pretend it is, if we forget our troubles and focus on being positive, then that’s not real. If we do that, people die. I’m not saying we need to kill the cat-rat-bots, dude. Heck, everything we’ve been saying here has been straight-up speculation. We don’t know a thing about these creatures. But if they are hostile, if they’re highly dangerous, we need to be prepared to do anything. Murder an entire race. Do a cover-up. Burn a forest down; I don’t know. And in the end, hardest of all, we’ll need to explain it all to Mabel.”

Dipper felt a terrible and ungainly weight on his shoulders; a looming dread. And he knew that Wendy was right. If these things were hungry and mean, if peace was not an option, she was right. It really could be us-or-them. He finally answered. “I’m glad you sent Mabel off before describing this.”

Wendy beamed, and stuck up her thumb. “Yeah! No problem, dude. I got yer back.”

Dipper nodded. “I guess you’re right though… I guess you’re right.”

“These are the tough calls, Dipper.” Wendy swung her bike around to the direction of the road, and began pedaling. “Depending on what we find out there, sooner or later… These are the tough calls we’ll have to make.”

A half hour later, Dipper and Wendy left their bikes at the end of a logging road, and started into the trees.

Two hours after that, the found themselves deep in the forest, in the cool and quiet stillness beneath the massive trees. Somewhere far away and high up, a lonely woodpecker drilled into a trunk, and its tapping echoed hauntingly through the forest, the only living sound. Wendy folded up her map and slipped it back into her pack. “This is it.” She said. “This is the place.”

The bear trap lay in the same place she’d found it, the branch she’d used to pry it open still wedged between its jaws. And the rusty metal of the trap itself was scarred and cracked in places where Juan had grinded on it, in his futile efforts to escape.

“Okay.” Dipper nodded, and pulled out the radio tracker. “Let’s see if I can find a signal of some kind…” The devices speaker warbled with unclear static, spun lazily around a few times, and finally pointed back the way they’d come. “No good.” He said. “It’s still just picking up Juan. I wonder… If it DOES have a mother of some type that’s supposed to home in on its signal, I wonder where it is now? It’s been 3 days…”

“Maybe its mother abandoned him.” Wendy suggested. “Maybe it was here, and since it didn’t have hands, it saw that it couldn’t free him from the bear trap without destroying him. So it just left him. Started ignoring his signal.”

“That would make sense…” Dipper nodded. “But what do we do now?”

Wendy looked around, and then pointed to the next ridge. “Well. Maybe if we head up there and hit one of McGucket’s transmitters, she’ll see the source has moved, and understand he got free. Worth a try, right?”

Dipper nodded, pulling out a decoy. “Good idea. And while we’re walking, keep a look out for… You know… Like, anything.”

“Oh, I have been.” Wendy assured him. “Way ahead of you. Way ahead.”

“Seen anything?”

“Nope.”

“Well.”

The ridge turned out to be a little taller than it looked from a distance. And a little steeper. They were on their hands and knees now, half walking, half pulling themselves past the rocks and roots. Though the sun remained obscured behind the trees, Dipper soon found himself sweaty and weary. Sports. He growled to himself. Why have I never done sports? Maybe a little football, or… Track, or… Wrestling or something, would have given me some better cardio. Should have known this was waiting for me. Man. Now I’m like a second-class-adventurer. He looked up at Wendy’s backside, progressing further and further ahead of him. She’s the athletic one. The dangerous one. And I’m the smart one. Right? I always was the smart one. But now she’s in on everything I was. And she’s been at it all year. She probably knows more than I do. She’s probably more curious, more clever, and smarter than I am. The journals are gone, and she has her diary… What do I bring to the table now? When Wendy got more than 20 feet further up than him, she seemed to notice his exhaustion, and stopped to let him catch up.

“You need a minute?” She asked when he passed her.

He thought about this briefly, but his sense of manly honor allowed only one answer to pass his lips. “Nah.” He said. “I’m good… We’ve gotta be halfway, right?”

“Uh…” She gazed down the slope. “Yeah.” She said. “A third at least. But it’s best not to think about it like that. Think of something else.”

They climbed on in silence, as Dipper tried to think of something else to think about. He settled on Gideon Gleeful for no real reason, and spent the rest of the climb nursing silent grudges and wondering how that kid had turned out.

“Hey, we’re basically to the top!” Wendy finally announced.

Dipper was right behind her. He breathed deeply, rubbed his sore arms, and leaned against a tree.

“Ugh.” He said. “This hill looked way shorter from the bottom.”

“Yeah.” Wendy nodded, leaning against a different tree. “Yeah. So. We’re up here now. The radio signal can probably reach the whole valley… How we gonna do about this?”

“Okay…” Dipper said, looking around. “Let’s put the decoy up in a tree or something, so it gets even better range.”

“I have a better idea. Since the idea is for it to think the decoy is its baby, why would we put it up a tree? How would its baby got all the way up a tree? I think we should put ourselves up in a tree instead. So we can see it coming and stay out of danger.”

“Alrighty.” Dipper said. “This is going here then.” He dropped the decoy on the ground.

“Nope.” Wendy reached into her backpack and removed a large net. “It’s going on top of this. Did your dad ever teach you how to rig up a trap like this?”

“No.”

“Oh. Well here, I’ll show you.”

Twenty minutes later, the decoy was transmitting, the trap was set, and the two teens were thirty feet above it, trying to find some way to get comfortable up among the sharp and pokey branches. Wasn’t long before Dipper got sort of bored. “So.” Wendy broke the silence. Apparently, she was just as bored as him. “How about that Pacifica brat? Mabel said she asked you on a date or something?”

“OH OH UH… Yeah.” Dipper looked up at her branch, and scratched the back of his head nervously. “Yeah. Yesterday. She… Well, she’s actually changed. A little. I think. She’s not a brat very much I guess… I mean… She’s not super mean, really, and… And she can actually be a hero when she needs to. Anyway, I said yes, and… I guess it’ll kind of be my first date.”

“Oh yeah? That’s cool. Where you guys going?”

“I guess we’re going to the… Uh… I don’t know what it’s called, but it’s like a seafood place. Mabel says she went there with Gideon once. And she says the food is really fresh. But she said the word ‘fresh’ all slow and menacing, so I’m not sure what she actually meant.”

“Huh. Sounds awesome.” Wendy nodded.

“Yeah.”

“Y’know, I’ve never really had seafood.” Wendy said.

“Me neither.” Dipper shrugged. “But it sounds like it could be pretty fun. Pacifica said the Caviar is really good.”

Wendy seemed to consider this for a moment. “The Caviar.”

“Yeah.”

“…You poor jerk. You don’t even know what Caviar is, do you?”

“No.” He admitted.

“Me neither.” She shrugged. “Probably some kind of enchiladas.”

“Yeah, probably.”

“What are you gonna wear?”

“I don’t know. Something, uh… Some fancy color. Like black pants, and, uh… A black shirt… That… Goes over top of a white shirt or something. Like whatever Bipper wore. Mabel said that he looked pretty nice.”

“Yeah, he was pretty dapper.”

“Yeah. Can’t be too hard. I’ll figure something out.”

“When is this date?”

“Thursday.”

“You should probably figure that out sooner rather than later. Correct me if I’m wrong, but right now your entire wardrobe consists of socks, underwear, brown shorts, red t-shirts, and that vest.”

“Well, no… I… I… They’re all different…”

He felt his gaze on her, looked up, and met her eye. She frowned very slightly. “Which means.” She reasoned. “That every day I’ve ever seen you… You’ve been wearing the exact same shirt and pants. The. Exact. Same.”

“UH…” He struggled to weasel his way out of this. Had he really? He thought he’d just been procrastinating washing his clothes. Sure, some mornings he just picked up his shirt and pants where he’d tossed them the previous night, but had he REALLY done that EVERY morning? Was he seriously that bad? “Uh…” He repeated.

“I knew it.” She snapped her fingers and leaned back against the tree trunk. “It’s true. You never change your clothes. That means I win the bet. Ford has to pay up.”

“UH…” He struggled. “How about you, then? Your shirt and pants have stayed the same color since as long as I can remember…”

“Woah, dude, chill. This is my lucky jacket. And I do have other things besides grey jeans.”

“Like what?”

“Like… I have some red pants… And a dress. And my dad gave me a kilt at some point.”

“Red pants. Red.”

“Yeah.”

“And a dress.”

“Uh-huh.”

“And a kilt.”

“My dad has… Eccentricities.”

“Have you ever worn any of those items?”

“Umm… Well… No.”

Dipper smiled with smug satisfaction. She’d fallen right into her own trap. “You know what they say…” He chided, as he leaned back and inspected his fingernails. “Those who live in glass houses shouldn’t throw dirty laundry.”

“Oh yeah, Mr. Kitten-Sneeze?” She retorted, sitting forward. “Well people who live in wooden houses shouldn’t roast.”

“Yeah?” He retorted. “Well people who live in ice houses shouldn’t blow steam.”

“Yeah? People in paper houses shouldn’t choose scissors.”

“Yeah? People in gallium houses should stay chill.”

“Yeah? People in spiky houses shouldn’t trip and fall on their face.”

“Yeah? People in straw houses shouldn’t lose needles.”

“Yeah? People in bubble houses shouldn’t even walk.”

“Yeah? People in golden houses shouldn’t… Uh… Okay, I got nothing.”

Their intellectual debate was suddenly interrupted by a noise from below. Their eyes swiveled downward, and stared at their new visitor. They both grinned, half in satisfaction, half in horror.

The parent had returned.

It was the perfect image of Juan, but scaled up to roughly the size of a lion. Its legs were longer and leaner, its back was wider and flatter, its treads were wider and more rugged, and its head was the size of a wheelbarrow. For a machine of its size, it moved surprisingly quiet. Almost silent, but for the occasional snapping twig beneath its treads.

Unlike its child, which had been shelled in silvery, bright plating, the parent appeared as a matte grey/brown, with a oil-like bluish sheen. Almost so dark that it blended in with the forest floor.

If these robots were, as they suspected, part of some unknown larger ecosystem, what role would these cat-like units play in that system? Dipper began to strongly suspect that Juan, and his parent here, must be the predators. Their eyes were in front, they moved silently and directly, and they had a large system of hooks in their mouth, as if for spearing and grappling. They were looking at a robot designed for hunting, killing, and eating other robots.

So rad.

Wendy took out her phone and began taking a video. Dipper took out disposable camera and began snapping pictures. The lion-bot seemed oblivious to them as it moved through the trees. Its dark red eyes swiveled back and forth across the ground, searching carefully for its target.

“Man.” Wendy whispered under his breath. “Soos is gonna flip when he sees this.”

“Soos and I are pterodactyl bros.” Dipper mentioned off-hand. “I wish he didn’t have to stay back at the Shack. He’d love this thing.”

“What’s pterodactyl bros?” Wendy asked. “And doesn’t that have a ‘P’?”

“It’s like blood brothers, but totally dinosaur-centric in every way. And the ‘P’ is silent.”

“Makes enough sense…”

The antennae mane of the lion-bot extended up and outward now, fanning out like a radar dish. It turned its head side to side, scanning. Then the antennae retracted, and it turned around to look directly at McGucket’s decoy.

“This guy is too big to trap in the net…” Dipper groaned.

“Yeah…” Wendy ran her fingers through her hair. “She’s gonna set off the trap anyway, but then just escape, and then… Then what do we do? How are we gonna find her again? How are we gonna track her back to where she’s from??”

Dipper racked his brain. Finally something occurred to him. “Wendy! Give me the magnet gun!”

As she handed it down, he pulled out his swiss-army knife. He unscrewed the side of the gun, reached into its mechanisms, and removed one of its neodymium magnetic armatures.

“What’s that?” Wendy asked.

“This.” Dipper answered. “Is a rare-earth magnet. One of the strongest on Earth. You got some tape?”

“No.”

“DANG IT… Uh… I’ll just use my sock.”

He took off his right shoe and sock, squeezed the magnet into the sock, then squeezed another one of McGucket’s decoys in on top of it. Then he tied the mouth of the sock closed, and was left with a finished product.

“Ah.” Wendy nodded. “I get it.”

Dipper smiled as he put his shoe back on. “Poor man’s GPS tracker.” He said proudly. Then he turned it on, and held the package out at arm’s length over the net. “Now come on, girl. Just a little closer…”

The lion-bot wandered over toward the decoy at the bottom of the tree, and began to circle around it curiously. Its antennae extended again, as if to make sure that this was, indeed, the source of the signal. When it decided it was, it angrily stepped on the decoy, destroying it instantly. The robot began to look around and turn in a circle. And at a single moment, it was directly beneath them.

Dipper dropped the package.

It fell silently and unceremoniously straight down for 30 feet, and finally connected with the lion-bot directly in the small of its back. With a loud ‘CLUNK’ it stuck and attached, and the magnet kept it secure.

“YES!” Dipper cried.

“DUDE!” Wendy congratulated him.

The robot seemed to panic at the impact, and stumbled around just enough to set off the trap.

The net jerked up around its front left leg, and tangled in place. The robot thrashed for a minute, backing away. Then it noticed the rope holding the net in place. Its head opened up and its mouth extended.

Dipper and Wendy stopped smiling, for the hooks in its mouth were the size of steak knives. As for the saws, they were easily as big around as dinner plates, and there were about 5 of them.

The lion-bot clipped the net with the saw, and it fell away. The robot stepped free. Then, forgetting both the net and the tracker on its back, it turned its eerie red gaze up toward Dipper and Wendy.

“Welp.” Wendy said. “It occurs to me that it can chop down trees.”

“You know what?” Dipper said. “Today was fun.”

The robot retracted its saws, and swatted at the trunk of their tree with one paw. The tree shook heavily, and Dipper grabbed a nearby branch to steady his balance.

“Plan.” Wendy said.

The robot turned the top of its head forward, and rammed the tree with the entire weight of its body. The tree shook so violently that Dipper had to grab the branch to keep from falling off, and it almost didn’t work.

“Plan.” Wendy repeated.

“What do we have?” Dipper asked. “Do we have, like, weapons?”

“Between the two of us.” Wendy recited. “We have two axes, three knives, four decoys, two walkie-talkies and a magnet gun that’s missing an armature.”

“Actually.” Dipper pulled another magnet gun out of his backpack. “I brought one too. You just had yours handy… Uh… Take mine.”

“I was gonna say…”

The tree shook again as the robot spun its saws up to speed and began to cut away at the base of the trunk. It was cutting FAST.

“PLAN.” Wendy repeated once more.

“Okay…” Dipper racked his brain, and finally got an idea. When it came, he began speaking fast. “…Okay, Check this thing out. It’s got no ears, and no nose. Just its eyes, and those antennae. So I’m guessing it usually tracks prey by sight and electromagnetic junk. Us meatbags got none of that junk, so if we’re out of sight, then it’s lost us.”

“Climb down the tree then.” Wendy said. “Climb down to just out of reach. When the tree topples, we hit the ground running, and get hidden as fast as possible.”

“Yeah.” Dipper began his descent. It was counterintuitive, climbing down TOWARD the hostile thing. But he understood the sense in it. The higher up they were, the faster they would hit the ground.

“Worse comes to worse.” Wendy added. “This gun’s ‘pulse’ setting fried my old phone from 20 paces. It could be deadly to this girl.”

“Yeah.” Dipper nodded, while silently praying that they wouldn’t have to kill it. It was just looking for its child. It had been deceived, and ensnared, and taunted from above. Now it was just as angry as anyone would be. It didn’t deserve to die.

Wendy seemed to read his thoughts. “I don’t want to do it either, man. Which is why I haven’t done it yet. But it’s just an animal. Like we talked about; us or them! Now get ready!”

The pile of sawdust beneath the lion-bot’s apparatus was growing, and the tree was swaying more and more. Now there was a cracking noise, and the tree was going down.

“JUMP!” Wendy called, and they did.

Dipper heard the tree crash to a stop behind him, and he hit the ground running, aiming for the nearest, thickest tree. He ducked down behind it, and took a deep breath. These trees were very old, very thick, and large. Room enough for a teenage boy to hide behind most any of them. A few seconds later, Dipper hazarded a look back at the scene of the fallen tree.

The robot turned in a circle about thirty feet away, looking for a sign of them. It had its antennae out, so Dipper supposed his guess must have been correct: it used electrical signals to find its prey, and they had stumped it, just by virtue of being human.

Wendy was nowhere to be seen. Good.

In a moment when the robot was turned away, Dipper sprinted off toward a different, further tree. So it continued. Eventually he was able to put some distance between himself and it, and could just barely pick out its movement through the trees.

It moved around, this way and that. Sometimes nearer, sometimes further. As if it believed they were still near, and didn’t understand where they could have gone.

At long last, it turned, retracted its saws, and retreated down the far side of the ridge. It moved down the embankment with agility and speed, almost identical to that of a real lion.

When all had been silent for 5 minutes, Dipper again decided to breathe easy, and stepped out from behind the tree.

He met back up with Wendy near where they had split.

“Good plan.” She told him. “I noticed the no-ears-no-nose thing, but I guess I never put it together that it actually COULDN’T hear or smell.”

“Yeah, thanks!” He ran his fingers aggressively through his hair, just to dispel the pent-up adrenaline. “WOW, that was intense!”

“Yeah dude! Totally crazy. Did you get pictures of it?”

“Heck yeah, but not after the action started. Did you get footage?”

“I dropped my phone somewhere… Ah ha! Here it is! And the camera is still running! That means it got all of it!”

“AWESOME!”

Dipper pulled out the radio tracker, and tuned it back to Juan’s frequency.

The needle pointed decisively down the ridge, in the direction that the mother had disappeared. “Hey, I’m tracking her!” Dipper said. “The magnet kept the decoy still attached to her!”

“Dude!” Wendy said. “That means mission success! Woot woot!”

“Mission epic success!”

“Dude!” She said again. “We survived a robot lion attack today! Gimme some!” She held up her hand.

Dipper high-fived her. “Yeah!”

“That’s going on my resume!” She added.

Dipper smiled, quite unsure how to take that, but mainly just alarmed and amused that something like THAT would go on a resume. “Uh…” He frowned, and laughed uncertainly. “Seriously? Could I see this resume at some point?”

“Uh… Sure. I guess. I’m still working on it though, so spelling and whatever isn’t… Swanky.”

“I could check over that if you want.”

“That’d be nice.”

Dipper realized he had more important business at the moment, while they were still up on this ridge with this great view. He pulled out a map, a marker, a compass, and the radio tracker, and laid them out on the forest floor. And he began to record the lion-bot’s progress.

He sat there, writing down numbers and angles from the tracker’s needle, for about 5 minutes. At the end, he drew out the results on the map. Based on all this, the robot seemed to be heading in a generally south direction, away from town, away from the valley. Over toward a small cluster of hills in the far distance.

After this, he folded the map back up, put the tools away, and hefted his backpack.

“Okay.” He announced.

“Okay.” Wendy nodded.

Dipper pointed toward the cluster of hills. “There’s our new target.”

“Hmm.” Wendy squinted up at the sun. “Might want to hold till tomorrow. If we turn back now, it’ll be almost dusk by the time we make it back to the shack. And I still have to bike home from there.”

“Okay.” Dipper nodded. “Man. Yeah. We’ll call it a day then. I’m pretty whooped anyway.”

“Me too. I think a branch caught me as I jumped off the tree. Gonna have a nasty bruise in the morning.”

“Ah. And I… Well. Now I don’t have my sock. I’ll probably have a blister or something by the time we make it back.”

“Awwwww, poow baby…”

They turned away from the view and their new target, and started back down the slope toward town.

After a few minutes of climbing, Dipper spoke up. “What you making a resume for?” He asked. “You looking for work? Or… Like, where you hoping to work?”

“Uh… Oh… You know…” She shrugged. “Work. I don’t exactly have a job yet this Summer. I worked weekends over the school year for a fast-food place, but… I don’t know. Now they don’t need me full-time. I want something a little better for the Summer, right? But I don’t really… Know what to do. I think a resume might open up some… Stuff. Right?”

“Yeah, but what job were you hoping for?” He clarified. “Like if you wanted to give a rocking resume to one person, who would it be?”

“Uh…” She turned her attention back to the hike for a moment, and descended the slope by a few tricky steps. “I’ve been thinking, and I think maybe it would be nice to be a cop. What do you think?”

“A cop??” Dipper blinked, a question suddenly burning in his mind. “Have, uh… You HAVE met the cops around here…”

“Yeah.”

“Oh, I’m sure you would fit right in.” Dipper grinned sarcastically.

“But that’s just it, isn’t it?” She asked. “These idiots, these BUFFOONS, need all the help they can get. Maybe if they let me… Shuffle paperwork. Or be secretary. Or ride along on patrols, I could actually help them be a little better at their job. Then people would actually be SAFE… Instead of… You know… Now people have to put caps back on the fire hydrants the cops turn into sprinklers, and everybody has to worry about not being zapped for mentioning our mutual friend…”

“So… You take the fall. You have to work with... Those guys. And you have to do a job with tons of boring paperwork… And you work extra hard to pick up the slack… All just to make people safer.”

“It’s not a great plan.” Wendy mumbled. “And… It probably doesn’t have much of a future. And I’d probably hate it, and I don’t really want to do it, but… If I could get that job, it might… Be best? I don’t know.”

“Wendy.” Dipper said. “I’m not positive, but I think that makes you a hero.”

“Oh.” She frowned. “Uh. Yeah… Yeah. I know.”

#The Forest Of Daggers #Gravity Falls #Wendy Corduroy #dipper pines #see you next summer #wendip #wendy x dipper #fanfiction #fanart #scifi #alien #robot #biomechanical #lion #cat-rat-bot #dipcifica #Weeeell dipcifica a little I guess. Not reeeeeeally tho.

73 notes · View notes

fereality-indy · 6 years ago

Text

Wendip Week Day Two - Typical Pines Luck

I went a different direction with this story.

Gravity Falls High School

Friday October 10th, 2014

Man, the first couple of weeks here at Gravity Falls High have been fun. I’ve been able to spend a good amount of time with Wendy and the gang. I’ve got homeroom (English Lit) and lunch with Mabel, Biology with Wendy and Candy, Creative Writing with Pacifica, Lee, and Tambry, French with Wendy and Grenda, Calc 2 with Wendy and Tambry, and Cooking with Grenda. Wendy, Nate, and Pacifica are in the same lunch as Mabel and I. That leaves me with one class where I really don’t know anyone, Conditioning. Being on the track team I felt I needed to take a athletics class to keep my stamina up during the off season.

The only down side is I seem to have attracted to attention of Allan Weems, one of the muscle heads who plays tackle for the Gravity Falls Grizzlies. At six foot two and approximately three hundred pounds of muscle, his size really is all he has going for him. The nose ring he wears outside of football games only adds to the reason he’s nicknamed Bull, mostly he has it cause he’s about as bright as one. He’s not an actual Gravity Falls resident, he comes from one of the little towns that are still in the county but lay just outside the valley. Hirschburg or Ritterton maybe.

“Alright guys, you have ten minutes till the bell. Get in there and get clean. I don’t want any complaints from the other teachers.” Coach Doherty said after he blew his whistle to signal the end of the class.

I stayed back as the rest of the guys headed into the locker. After I was certain that everyone should be mostly in the showers I head in and quickly get out of my gym clothes. Wrapping my self in my towel I head to the shower stalls and grab the first empty one. When I was done I dried off and rushed out to get dressed. Unfortunately Allan was waiting on me. Even worse, we were the last ones in the locker room.

“So Dipwad, how’s my favorite tackling dummy?” he asked as he held something behind his back, as I got closer I realized it was my gym shirt and he had wrapped it tightly around his fist, “You know what, I really don’t care.”

Before I knew what was happening he stepped close and punched me twice in the stomach. As I gasped for air he dropped my shirt over my head and started walking away.

When he got to the door he looked back and said “Well this was fun, let’s do it again tomorrow.”

After catching my breath, I got dressed just as the bell sounded. Walking out of the locker I found Coach Doherty waiting on me.

“You ok, Pines? Mr. Weems told me as he left that he thought he heard you trip on something as he left the locker room.” He asked as h saw me exit.

Just my luck, Allan gave the Coach an explanation for why I took so long. Not really wanting to press the issue I said, “Eh, I just stubbed my toe is all Coach.”

“Well I hope you didn’t break it. From everything I’ve seen so for I‘m looking forward to seeing you on the track this year.” He said as I headed towards the door.

I stopped at my locker and traded out my morning books for the ones I’ll need after lunch.

“Hey broseph, ready for the Friday meatloaf?” Mabel asks as she opened her locker. She had art the period before and still had some paint on the back of her hand.

“I guess, it can’t be any worse than Stan’s mystery meat surprise.” I replied still holding my sore stomach.

We got our food and headed towards the table that Nate had grabbed. We were the last ones there as Wendy and Pacifica were already eating.

As Mabel sat down she turned to Pacifica and said, “Oh man, Paz. Did you hear what happened today in the Candy’s gym class? Apparently there was a big fight between two of her classmates.”

“Yeah, I heard. Apparently Jimmy Holman found out that Marion Albert, his girlfriend, was seeing Aaron Holtz on the side. He just walked up to Aaron and punched him, ended up taking half the class to separate them. Someone said it looked like Aaron’s nose looked broken.” Pacifica said as she sort of picked through the food on her tray. She’s told me that she no longer cared about her food meeting a four star rating but she still was leery of school cafeteria food. Welcome to the club princess.

“That’s what Candy said too. Though she said it looked like Aaron actually threw the first punch.” Mabel said around a spoonful of mashed potatoes.

“Eh, either way they both got suspended.” Pacifica said just before it seems like hunger won out and she took a bite of the meatloaf.

That there was one of the reasons I just took the punches earlier and didn’t fight back. Heck. He didn’t hit anywhere near as bad as Rumble, so there’s that also. But there is a reason that is even more important to me.

“God, I hate it when guys fight like that.” Wendy said after she swallowed her bite of meatloaf. “This could have easily been handled by talking. And they’re fighting each other and are either wondering what her opinion of the situation is, I mean maybe she didn’t think they were exclusive.”

And there is the most important reason I didn’t fight back. Wendy dislikes guys fighting. And after we lost Robbie, I realized just how short life can be and I decided I would follow my own advice from a couple of years ago and strive to be someone worthy of her love. That doesn’t mean I’m changing anything about me, it just means that I’m gonna improve the me that I already am. Oh shoot, Mabel is talking to me.

“Huh?” was all I was able to get out as a response.

“I asked if you were gonna finish that?” Mabel said pointing towards my less than half eaten tray and more specifically the chocolate pudding.

“Oh, yeah. Here you go, take what you want.” I say as I slide the tray over to her.

“Hey Dip, you still coming over to work on Calc and Biology homework?” Wendy asked after Mabel snagged the last half of my meatloaf and the pudding.

“Sure, I’ve even got The Monster Of The Cape to bring over to watch if we have time afterwards.” I say with a smile.

"Sweet. We’ll have to rush through the homework then.” Wendy says with a smirk.

The rest of the day went by like normal and soon Mabel and I were back at the house dad found on the outskirts of downtown. I took a moment to look over Mabel’s homework while she got ready for a night with the gals. Pacifica, Candy, Grenda, and surprisingly Tambry are all gonna be there. I think Mabel is wanting to plan the baby shower.

After I was done, her work was on par for her which means she’ll get a b plus at least, I grabbed my bag, the DVD, and a microwave burrito. I was just heading to the front door when my phone went off.

“Hey there.” I said as I heard Wendy’s voice on the other end, “Yeah, I was just heading out. You’re where?”

I heard a knock echo through the phone and from the front door. When I opened the door there she stood.

“Well since you’re ready I may as well come pick you up.” She said as a greeting.

"I was gonna walk, but a ride with my best friend does sound great.” I said as I walked out the door. Once I was out I noticed something, her truck wasn’t there. Turning to her I asked, “Ok, if you’re giving me a ride where’s your truck.”

“It never really was mine, Dad was just letting me use it. Marcus just got his license so dad is letting him use it now.” Wendy said as she shut the door and started heading towards the street.

“Ok, if you don’t have the truck how are we getting to your house?” I asked looking around as I followed her, thinking that maybe she had borrowed the Mystery cart from Soos or something.

“Well you see, when I got home Uncle Randy and his son Seth were there. At first I was afraid they were there cause dad was making plans to send me up to the logging camp next summer. But no, they were there to give me an early birthday and graduation present.” She said as we got to the sidewalk. We headed past our driveway when we stopped in front of a charcoal grey van. “Here she is, a seventy-nine WV Uberkreuzung Microbus. It was my Grandpa’s, then Randy’s, and now its mine.”

“Cool,” I said as she unlocked the door. I hopped in as she ran around to the driver’s side. I unlocked her door for her and she climbed on in.

“We need to stop and grab some snacks but then back to my place to study.” Wendy said as she turned the key.

We sopped at the store and picked up a couple bags of chips, a bag of puffed corn, and a case of Pitt. After that it was a quick drive and we made it back to her place. The homework was done in less than ten minutes and that was with me going over the definitions of an infinite series and partial sums twice to make sure she got them. But really the homework is just an excuse we use to hang out anyways. We then cracked open the snacks and tossed the DVD into her player. She then plopped down on her stomach while I leaned back on a backrest pillow I had bought and left here last year just for movie nights. Grabbing a handful of puffcorn settled in for a marathon of jokes about the quality (or lack of it) of the special effects.

“Ok, that suit doesn’t even have matching seams. I meant look you can see the actors neck right there.” she called out as the ‘monster’ chase a hapless co-ed through a dock of fishing boats.

“Ok, there are several potential weapons on those boats. I mean I see a spear gun laying on the deck of that one. Why don’t she go for one. Or maybe even just get on one of the boats and hide in it’s cabin.” I added after I had taken a swig of Pitt.

“They probably didn’t get permission from any of the boat owners. Hell I would be surprised that they permission to even film on the dock.” She said as she playfully swatted my stomach. Unfortunately I was still tender and I winced at the contact. Now Wendy is definitely no dummy and noticed something was wrong. “You ok, Dip? I barely touched you there.”

“Oh, it’s nothing.” I said as I tried to play it off. I did not want her worrying about me getting into a fight or worse her getting in trouble fighting him in my place.

“Dip. We’ve been friends for a couple of years now, I know when you’re lying man.” She said as propped herself up with her right arm before sitting to look at me better. “And if it’s something that you feel like you have to lie to me, then I know it’s gotta be something big. You don’t lie to me. So what is it?”

“It’s nothing.” I said as I tried to withdraw from her gaze.

Not buying it she said, “Nope, something is wrong. Luckily for me I have learned of a weakness in your armor from Mabel for just this occasion.”

Before I knew what was happening she was on me and began tickling me. She started under my arms but quickly worked down my sides. I started laughing and as my diaphragm contracted during a particularly loud laugh I again grimaced.

Seeing that she grabbed the edge of my shirt and lifted it. I hadn’t seen it myself yet, it looked like him wrapping his hand didn’t do much towards preventing a bruise from forming.

“Dude, what the hell?” She yelled as she got a good look at it. “Who did this? Tell me and I’ll beat the crap out of them!”

“That’s why I was hiding it, I don’t want you getting in trouble on account of me. Principal Reeves has been doing nothing but praising the turnaround you have made in the last couple of years and I don’t want to ruin that on my account.” I said as I tried to pull my shirt back down to cover it back up.

She let go of my shirt and sat back up, pulled her legs under her, and then leaned against the wall behind her. When was done she asked, “Please tell me you at least gave it to them as good as you got?”

“No,” I said not looking her in the face.

“Wait a minute.” Was her response. She followed up with, “What? Why?”

“Don’t worry about it. I’m fine” I said almost feeling like I was twelve again.

“Nope, I’m gonna worry about you man.” She said with a look of genuine concern, “Now why didn’t you fight back? Whoever did this couldn’t be worse than those two gnomes that found the growth crystals back in June. We kicked their tails.”

I mumbled something barely audible.

“What was that?” she asked as she leaned closer to me.

“You don’t like guys fighting.” I repeated at a volume that she could hear.

I started to get up before I felt her hand on my shoulder. She pulled me back down and turned me so I was facing her in one turn. “Yeah, I hate guys fighting for stupid reasons. Defending yourself is never a stupid reason.”

She pulled me into a hug, “Dude, I want you to be safe. But next time this guy does something, defend yourself. I mean why else was Stan giving you and Mabel boxing lessons.”

As I pulled back I got lost in her eyes again, they were so full of worry for me. A part of me wondered if there was something else there too.

“I will.” I finally said as I realized how long I had been staring turning my head I saw that the movie was over. Looking down at my watch I said, “Man, I gotta get going. Mom and Dad want me home for dinner. Tell you what, keep the DVD here and we can watch it next time.”

I leaned forward and gave her another hug.

When I let go Wendy said, “Do you really have to go. I was hoping we could get in another movie at least.”

“Yeah, unfortunately the rents aren’t as forgiving as Stan is for coming home late.” I said as I gathered up my school books.

“You want a ride back?” she asked as she slid off the front of her bed and turned off her tv.

“Yeah, thanks.” I replied as I zipped up my backpack. “You’re working tomorrow, right?”

“Sure, maybe we can hang after work tomorrow.” She said as we headed out of room.

Mystery Shack

Saturday October 11th, 2014

Well today has mostly been about organizing displays and placing some in mothballs till next spring. Soos did take one group out on a tour and should be back sometime soon, but really the season is over. I mean we may get some to come through for Halloween, but this is Oregon tourist season is over.

I was dusting some souvenirs when I felt a large hand on my shoulder and heard a voice I was not wanting to hear, “Why Dipwad, what a pleasant surprise.”

He roughly turned me around and pushed me up against the shelves. Out of the corner of my eye I saw Wendy look like she was about to jump the counter. I waved her off just as he continued, "Well I guess I shouldn’t be too surprised. I mean a freak like you must fit right in with all of this junk.”

“Now you can call me names, but you best not insult the Shack.” I said as I for once push him back.

It doesn’t move him much but it does seem to phase him. It seemed to crack his veneer of superiority, but he seemed to recover his bravado quickly. Glaring down at me he said, “Whatchu gonna do about it. The only good things in this pig sty is red over there and that cute lil sister of yours. Where did she go anyways, she was here when I got here. “

“That’s it. Step outside.” I say as I once again pushed him. This time it moved him enough that I was able to start heading towards the door. Wendy was staring daggers at him as I neared. In a whisper I ask, “Is he coming?”

“On your six, but he just started moving.” she responded her gaze softening as she turned it towards me. “Is he the one?”

“Yeah. There’s gonna be a fight, I’m not sure you’re gonna want to see this.” I said as I reached the door.

She pulled a ‘closed for break’ sign out from under the counter and set it in front of the register. “I’m not gonna miss this.”

I found out later that she had pulled out her phone and sent a group text to Mabel, Soos, and the rest of the gang that read ‘Dipper about to confront a bully outside of Shack, fight probable’.

As I made it outside I headed towards the grassy area south of the parking lot. Mabel was running out from behind the Shack carrying a stack of signs, the visible one read ‘Round One’. She made it over to where I was about the time Bull got out of the front door. He was followed shortly by Wendy.

“So you’re fighting Bull. Man, what an idiot.” Mabel said as she saw who I was looking at. Realizing that what she said could have sounded like she was calling me the idiot, she clarified “Not you, him. It takes him forever to get something through his thick skull. He most have asked me out at least twice a week since school started and I’ve turned him down every time.”

“Oh there she is.” Bull said as he realized Mabel had joined me, “Hey there cutie. How about after I beat the snot out of your brother, you n me go to Hermanos Brothers for a tray of tacos?”

“Kick him where the sun don’t shine, broseph.” Mabel said as she backed away and headed towards Wendy.

About that time Soos showed up with his tour group. I recognized three other members of the football team and a guy that looked like he could be Bull’s dad.

“This him?” I heard the older guy ask.

“Yep, he’s my project this year. He’s got all the basics; weird name, class geek, smaller than me, crush on a girl out of his league, you know the works.” Bull said as he looked at his dad. And with that what hope I had that his dad would help out faded. At least it looked like he had shocked and maybe disgusted his fellow team members, “He's a push over. He hasn’t even complained yet.”

“Then why is he fighting you now?” I heard his dad ask.

“Oh, he’s just trying to show off for Red there.” Bull said throwing his thumb in Wendy’s direction. It was a good thing that Mabel was there to hold Wendy back or I may not even got a chance to have this fight.

“Well he at least has some good taste.” Bull’s dad said as he took a look at Wendy, “And if looks could kill, you’d be dead son. I wonder if he isn’t reaching to far there. You ever try for her?”

"Oh hell no dad, she’s a Corduroy. The whole family plays with axes like they were toys. That’s a crazy I’m not touching. She’s the one that dislocated Lorenzo's shoulder last year when he tried to cop a feel.” Bull said as he grimaced remembering the incident, “Now Dipwad here won’t last five minutes. He’s a wuss.”

“You’re right, he isn’t much to look at. We’ll see how he is doing after this fight, maybe we can use him as a janitor at the farm.” His dad said almost pushing bull towards me. “Enough talking, go get him.”

As he got closer I held my hands up and said, “Before we start I have to warn you I have a purple belt…”

Before I could finish he rushed at me yelling, “I don’t care, we’re here to fight not talk fashion.”

I side stepped him and brought my hand down across the back of his head, smacking him. This did nothing more than anger him, good an angry opponent is a sloppy opponent.

We threw punches back and forth for a moment. I did my best to remember what my teachers’ taught me and kept my guard up to deflect most of his blows, all the while ensuring I landed mine. He still got me a couple times and I am gonna be sore tomorrow. Finally I got an opening. He threw a wild punch that I deflected, as soon as I did I brought my right knee up straight into his gut. After that connected, as he went backwards I snapped my right foot out and connected to his jaw. He fell flat.

“Do you give?” I asked as he went to get up.

There was still fire in his eyes as he stood. He rushed towards me with murderous intent. I reached out and grabbed his collar, put my left foot into his stomach, and rolled backwards flipping him in the process. I gained my footing first and as he tried to rise I brought my left foot down on the back of his head knocking him flat. When he didn’t try to rise again I reached down and felt for a breath and checked his pulse.

"You lil son of a…” His dad yelled as he tried to get to me, only to be stopped by the other members of his sons football team.

“Just grab Allan and go Mr. Weems,” said the one I now remember is named Frank, I think he's in French with me. “And tell Allan not to bother showing up at the game tomorrow. We’re gonna report that he admitted to the bullying to Coach. He has a zero tolerance policy.”

“And we’ll just deny it, it’ll be your word against ours.” Mr. Weems said as he started towards his son.

“Probably not dood, I’ve got like the whole thing recorded on my phone. Including everything you and sleeping beauty said.” Soos called from where he was standing with his phone aimed at Mr. Weems.

Wendy and Mabel rushed over to me as Mr. Weems gathered his son as he came to and got him to their truck.

“That was great man, I knew you had it in you.” Wendy said as they both hugged me.

“Way to go bro, glad to see the classes finally are paying off.” Mabel added.

“Alright, not so tight you two.” I said as I winced from how sore I was now that the fight was over.

Wendy remembered my bruised midsection and released quickly before asking Mabel, “Classes? I wouldn’t really call those boxing lessons Stan gave you and Dipper classes.”

“Not those, but Dip did use some of those techniques today. I’m talking our kickboxing classes. We’ve been going since we were ten, but Dip here didn’t take them serious until we got back from that first summer. That’s why he only has his purple belt, I’ve got my brown belt.” Mabel replied as she backed off and got into a fighting stance.

“Oh, so that's what you were trying to tell him.” Wendy said as she brought her arm up and settled it down on my shoulder. “I thought you were just trying to confuse him.”

“It wasn’t my intention but it did seem to work out that way.” I said as I try to head towards the Shack, the next thing he knows he is being hoisted up on a uneven pair of shoulders as Wendy and Soos carry him towards the Shack. It seemed Mabel was already sharing the video Soos had taken with the rest of the gang who hadn’t made it to the fight. I wouldn’t be surprised if I hear from the Stans before the Weekend is over about it, too.

“Thanks guys but really, I’m good. I just want to get some ice on my lip and jaw and, if it’s alright with you Soos, find somewhere to collapse. The adrenaline is wearing off and I am sore.” I said as we got to the porch.

As they sat me down on my feet Soos said, “Oh, sure dood. Go ahead and take the rest of the day off. You’ve earned it.”

After a look from Melody, which carried some sort of mental message that married people seem able to do (I’ll have to investigate that later), Soos added “Hey Wendy, you have the most knowledge out of us when it comes to first aid, why don’t you take the rest of the day off too and take care of the Dipster.”

“Oh yeah, Wends. I’ll cover for you if needed.” I heard come back from wherever Mabel was at.

“You don’t have to tell me twice. Sit right here and rest Dip, I’ll go grab the ice and then we can go back to my place and try to watch that movie again.” Wendy said as she help me to the chair Soos had placed by the gift shop’s entrance. Then she ran on into the shack.

“You can thank me and Melody later dawg.” Soos said before he and Melody entered the Shack. And believe me I did.

#gravity falls #wendy corduroy #dipper pines #wendip #mabel pines #soos ramirez #melody #Wendip Week 2018

12 notes · View notes

marypsue · 8 years ago

Text

Hive [1 / 2]

Warnings for mind control (sort...of), slight body horror, and slight gore/animal death (don't worry, the pig is safe).

Suggested listening for this chapter: “Hold No Guns” by Death Cab for Cutie.

Part One // Part Two

on AO3

...

Dipper, unsurprisingly, notices it first.

"Is it just me, or have people been acting...weirder than usual lately?" he asks, from flat on his back on the porch, basking in the heat of the sinking sun and the chill of the water evaporating off of him and the dull, slow ache in all his muscles from running around with Soos ambushing (okay, being ambushed by) Wendy and Mabel with water guns all afternoon. The wood underneath his back is rough and sun-warmed, both splinters and heat slowly working their way into his skin, and from where he lies he can just see a sliver of glaring blue out of the corner of his right eye, past the edge of the sagging porch roof.

"Define 'weirder than usual'," Wendy says, from the couch somewhere to Dipper's left, her voice lazy and languid as the quiet buzz from the trees out ringing the yard. Dipper can't muster the energy to turn and look at her; he remembers her falling sprawled across the cushions, one arm up over the back. As far as he knows, she hasn't moved.

"Yeah, Dipper, this is Gravity Falls -" Mabel starts, and Dipper groans.

"That's why I said 'weirder than usual', Mabel. Weirder than usual."

"I dunno, dawgs, Dipper's got a point," Soos, ever the lifesaver, says, and Dipper flops an arm weakly up into the air for Soos to slap palms with. "Like, Abuelita's bridge club's been meeting here while Melody’s up in Portland visiting her sister? And I'm pretty sure when they came over last week two of them were, like, talking to each other. But without talking, doods."

"Wait, really?" Dipper asks, almost interested enough to sit up and look Soos in the eye. Almost, but not quite. "Soos, your abuelita's got a couple of telepaths in her bridge club?"

He hears, rather than sees, Soos shrug. "Dunno. Abuelita threw 'em out for cheating, I didn't have time to ask 'em where they're from."

Before Dipper gets a chance to introduce Soos to the definition of the word 'telepathy', though, the door leading into the Shack creaks open and Stan's heavy footsteps thud out onto the porch, shaking up through Dipper's back until he can feel each one in his chest. "Who wants popsicles?" Stan waits a moment for the chorus of 'me!'s to die down, and then adds, "Well, you better get your wallets ready, then, 'cause these suckers're two - no, five dollars apiece!"

Dipper doesn't see what happens next, but he's pretty sure it involves Wendy and Mabel, a couple of water guns, and grand theft popsicle.

...

Ford, once Dipper gets a chance to talk to him, is a little more receptive.

"Unusual behaviour, you say?" he asks, putting down the soldering iron and raising his mask to look Dipper in the eye. There's a frown creasing his forehead, the kind of distant look that Grunkle Stan gets sometimes when he’s overwhelmed by a returning memory, and Dipper feels a twinge of guilt constrict his chest. "I ought to look into this. It might be nothing, but - better safe than devoured by a being of pure horror from the nightmare realm!" He flashes a bright smile in Dipper's direction, one that doesn't make the guilt squeezing Dipper's ribs together ease at all.

"It's...probably nothing," Dipper says. "Or - if it is, it's definitely not Bill's style. I don't know, it's not like people are really acting any different, they just..." He ends up squeezing two fistfuls of empty air and shrugging, trying to convey something he can't quite put into words.

There's a chill in the basement, even with the portal in a thousand weirdly-shimmering pieces on the floor, a draft that smells of damp and concrete and cold earth that snakes down the back of Dipper's neck and under his vest, making all the hairs stand up in a long line down his spine. The crease in Ford's brow doesn't change.

"Even so," he says, gruff and short, and Dipper waits for the rest of the sentence, a little unsurprised when nothing more is forthcoming. The draft trails like insubstantial fingers down his back. Even so.

...

Dipper's pretty sure that he's been invited along to the graveyard with Wendy and her friends at least partly out of pity, since Mabel's left him behind to go down to Bend for the day with Candy and Grenda to find Grenda a dress for this fundraiser gala Marius invited her to, but he's not complaining. Wendy's friends are cool, Wendy herself is especially cool, and Dipper's not about to turn up his nose at an opportunity to hang out with them. Especially not now that he is, actually, technically a teen himself.

It's a perfect day for it, too - not too hot, a slight breeze ruffling the tops of the trees that ring the graveyard and whipping the tall pillars of cloud overhead into weird and fantastic shapes. Dipper is distracted enough - by the clouds and their enormous shadows racing over the grass, and the birdsong off in the trees somewhere that almost sounds like human voices, and the smell on the wind that promises thunder later, and definitely not by Wendy's hair in the sunlight - that he trips over the handle of a discarded spade and nearly falls face-first into a freshly-dug grave.

Lee catches him while he's still pinwheeling his arms on the edge, reaching out and scooping him up around the waist. "Whoa, careful there, little dude!"

"I'm not little," Dipper grumbles, as Lee balances him back on his feet. He's not. He's grown a full two inches this year. (Never mind that Mabel's grown three, and packed on nearly twenty pounds of pure muscle just from hauling Waddles around. Dipper's gonna catch up one of these days.)

Lee isn't listening. He's peering down into the open pit with an expression halfway between fascination and disgust. "Oh, dude, what is that?"

"Ugh, tell me it's not zombies again," Wendy says, rolling her eyes, but Nate's joined them at the edge of the grave, leaning precariously out over the mouth to get a better look at whatever Lee's seen. Now that he's thinking about it, Dipper thinks he can detect a note of rot in the smell of fresh, wet earth.

He leans cautiously over the lip of the grave, and looks down.

There's something shining in the dirt right at the very bottom of the grave, something yellow-white and gently curved. It looks like a rib.

Robbie cracks his knuckles, stretching with the grin that means he's about to do something phenomenally stupid for attention. "Stand back, ladies, let the professional handle this." He looks around, and then asks, "Hey, where's Tambry? Wasn't she supposed to meet us here?"

"She's your girlfriend, aren't you supposed to be keeping track of stuff like that?" Nate asks. Robbie's ears turn red, and he stuffs his hands into the pockets of his hoodie.

"Whatever," he mutters, succinctly.

Wendy nudges him with her shoulder. "Weren't you gonna fight the big bad zombie for us?" she asks, and the blush drains out of Robbie's face so fast Dipper would almost think he's been attacked by a vampire or a giant leech or something. Dipper doesn't think the rib has moved at all; he kind of doubts it's an active zombie, but he's not telling Robbie that.

"A-actually, my knee's been kind of acting up," Robbie stutters, his gaze darting around the group and finding no sympathy. "Otherwise I would totally -"

"Fine, you big baby," Wendy interrupts, unholstering her axe from its usual place at her hip and leaping effortlessly down into the pit. After a moment, her voice floats up from six feet underground. "There's no zombies down here, guys."

"Wait, really?" Robbie asks, and then, defensive, "I mean, I knew that all along, I'd never have let you go down there if -"

"Man, shut up," Lee says, and Robbie's mouth snaps shut, his shoulders curling up around his ears as he shoots a dirty look in Lee's direction.

"What is it?" Dipper calls down to Wendy, who pokes at the rib with the toe of her boot. It falls over, with a small shower of dirt, revealing several pale vertebrae and what looks like half a shattered pelvis.

"Think maybe you should ask what it was," Wendy calls back up. "Looks like...half a raccoon, maybe?" She pauses a moment, turning over more earth with her toe. The smell of rotting that Dipper had noticed earlier rushes up, smacks him full across the face, and he has to swallow down a sudden surge of bile. "I dunno. It's pretty fresh, but it's also pretty stripped. Looks like somebody chewed the bones to get the marrow out."

"Dude," Lee says, halfway between disgust and awe.

"Somebody?" Robbie asks, a slight quaver in his voice. Wendy shrugs.

"Yeah dude, these look like human teeth marks."

“Wait, how do you know what human teeth -”

“Apocalypse training every year ring a bell, dude?” Wendy shrugs. “And you were all here for the zombie uprising too, you can’t tell me you don’t know what human teeth marks on bone look like.” She looks around at the boys gathered around the top of the grave. “Seriously, just me?”

"Oh man, does that mean one of the zombies is loose around here somewhere?" Nate complains.

Robbie mutters a bitter, "It better not be," before giving a resigned sigh and walking over to grab the abandoned spade Dipper'd tripped over. "All right, I'm gonna go tell my parents we got another walker."

"Cool. I'm gonna not hang out in the spooky deserted graveyard with a zombie on the loose," Nate says, and Lee reaches up for a high five.

"Buddy system, bro?"

"You know it."

"Guess that leaves you and me," Wendy calls up to Dipper, who casually steps back from the edge of the pit so she can't see his face. "Is there, like, a ladder up there or something?"

By the time Wendy gets out of the grave, she and Dipper are the only ones left in the graveyard. The clouds overhead have stacked up close against each other, and the patches of shadow that sweep over last longer each time, the warm summer air cut by the chill of the wind. That promised thunderstorm feels a lot closer now.

"It's weird that Tambry ditched," Wendy says, as she vaults over a gravestone, Dipper walking around it beside her. He notices that she hasn't put away her axe. "But you know what's weirder? I haven't had a single notification from her since, like, this morning. And none of the guys said anything about it, but I haven't seen Thompson around for a day or so either."

"Tambry hasn't liked any of your posts since this morning?" Dipper asks, horrified, and Wendy makes a face that's almost a smile but really more of a grimace.

"And not one single status update."

"Wow. That's even worse than the time we almost all got eaten by convenience store ghosts," Dipper remarks, and Wendy nods.

"If this were a horror movie, Robbie'd be stumbling across her strategically-placed body right about...now." She glances back over her shoulder, and when no screams echo out from behind the hill separating them from the funeral home, shrugs. "Guess we're still safely in weird fiction," she cracks, with an elbow-nudge to Dipper's ribs that tells him she means it as a joke.

"Hey, that reminds me - have you tried that book I loaned you yet?" Dipper asks, rather than trying to eke out a nervous chuckle, and Wendy grins.

"Eat, Pray, Lovecraft? Heck yeah I have." She stuffs her axe back into its holster, her smile shrinking. "I gotta admit, though, I think some of it went over my head. And after last summer - I mean, horrifying demonic entities from outside of our dimension just lose some of their terror when you've seen one do a kegstand."

Dipper kind of disagrees, but he doesn't tell Wendy that.

...

The trees are dripping the next morning, needles glittering with leftover droplets of rain. The gravel delta that serves as a parking lot is transformed into a mass of tiny rivers, water rippling into little 'v's as it races over the pebbles. The porch roof drips morosely, the soft hiss and shush of rainwater through the overflowing gutters underlying the quiet dimness of the morning.

Dipper lies snugged down in his bed, watching the pale, greyish-pink triangle of light sink slowly down the wall across from him as the sun rises. The lingering smell of attic, must and dust and something thick and vaguely medicinal that he thinks might be mothballs but also bears a weird resemblance to Stan's cologne, tickles his nose, and Mabel's soft snores from the bed against the other wall mingle with the rush of water down the roof into a soothing white noise. In the quiet, the attic seems vast and full of air and light. The bed is so warm and deep that Dipper doesn't want to move, and each time he blinks, the triangle of light slides a little further down the wall than it did during the last blink.

He only knows for sure he's awake when Stan's heavy fist pounds on the attic door, his voice rattling the thin wood from outside. "Rise and shine, lazybones! We're goin' to the diner for breakfast as a family! This's got everything to do with my love and generosity and nothing to do with the fact I got banned from the grocery store!"

Mabel stretches, yawning, and groans as she pushes herself up into a sitting position. She makes some sleepy noise as Dipper rolls over onto his side, pulling the covers tighter around his shoulders, trying to hold in the warmth. "Mmmmnnnnnnn 'snot morning yet."

"C'mon, Dippingsauce," Mabel yawns at Dipper with about half of her usual enthusiasm. The pink light that floods the attic makes her look, unfairly, much more awake than Dipper feels.

"Sssssummer," Dipper protests, but the soft, dreamy feeling is already draining out of him, wakefulness seeping in to take its place. He scrubs the heel of his right hand against his eyes, pushing back the covers with a yawn of his own. "Somebody tell Grunkle Stan the whole point of summer vacation is staying up late, then sleeping in."

Stan's voice echoes from the hall again. "Kids! C'mon, you're the only ones holding us up!" His voice drops in volume as he continues, "I asked Soos if he wanted to come but he said he had to open the Shack. Told 'im he could just blow it off but he said he had 'integrity', whatever that is. Hope it ain't catching."

Mabel and Dipper share a look, both trying not to laugh out loud.

They both fail.

...

It's a full hour before the Pines family piles out of the Stanleymobile and into Greasy's Diner. The whole world smells fresh, like it's been washed clean by the rain, and there's a chill in the air that makes Dipper glad he decided to wear his puffy vest over his thick flannel, despite Mabel's opinion.

Normally, after a storm like the one last night, the woods would be absolutely alive with birdsong, which is why it doesn't take Dipper longer than the short walk from the diner's parking lot to the door to figure out what's wrong. He nudges Mabel in the shoulder as they crunch across the patch of gravel that might once have held an attempt at a flowerbed but now only sprouts weeds and cigarette butts. "Mabel! Hey, did you notice how quiet it is out here?"

Mabel looks around, at the still-dripping trees, a thoughtful look on her face. "Huh. That's kinda weird. But not Gravity Falls weird," she adds, sternly, as Stan shoulders the door to the diner open, setting the bell over the door jangling and drowning out any odd noises Dipper might have listened for.

After the chill in the morning air, Greasy's even smells warm. Stan leads the way to their usual booth in the back, with a wink in Lazy Susan's direction. Dipper brings up the end of the little train, only to stop short only a few feet in.

Tambry's sitting in the booth nearest the door, and she's with Thompson. Just the two of them.

They both look up when Dipper leans against their table, like he's just interrupted a private conversation. But they definitely hadn't been talking when Dipper had stopped at the booth.

Weird.

"H-hey," Dipper stammers, into the teeth of Tambry's flat, unimpressed stare. "We missed you at the graveyard yesterday." Absently, he realises that her eyes are the exact same shade of green as Thompson's. He's never noticed before. Probably because they're always aimed down at her phone.

"Oh, yeah. Sorry," Tambry says, half-turning like she's done with the conversation. Dipper takes a deep breath, raising his voice slightly.

"Wendy was worried about you guys, she said she hadn't seen any status updates from you all morning," he challenges Tambry, who glances briefly back at him.

"Yeah, I guess I took like a monster nap." For the first time, a flicker of concern crosses her face, and she says, "Wait, was Robbie worried about me too?"

"Sure, why not," Dipper says. "Why aren't you with him, anyway? You two are still dating, right?"

Concern turns into confusion on Tambry's face, and then clears. She stares at Dipper, eyes narrowed. "Mabel put you up to this, didn't she."

"She...may have," Dipper says. It's not, technically, a lie.

"Well, you can tell her her matchmaking still holds up. Me and Thompson? Never gonna happen." Tambry rolls her eyes, apparently oblivious to the faint 'awwww' from Thompson, deflating slightly in the booth across from her.

"And Thompson! Where were you yesterday, man?" Dipper asks, turning to Thompson, who turns red. "You missed a zombie scare and Wendy finding half a dead raccoon."

"Oh, wow, I'm really sorry I missed out on that," Thompson warbles, sarcastically. Dipper has to cede that one to him.

Before he can ask any more questions, Lazy Susan's voice interrupts from behind Dipper. " 'Scuse me, hon. Soup's on!"

Dipper steps out of the way, and Susan takes his place, setting an enormous platter of eggs and bacon in front of each of the people at the table. Tambry actually groans, her face showing the most emotion Dipper thinks he's ever seen on her. "Finally! Oh my god, I'm so hungry I could eat the entire continent of Australia."

Thompson doesn't say anything, too busy shoveling forkfuls of fried egg into his mouth.

"Okay, well...good to know you're both okay," Dipper says, as Tambry tucks into her own food. He looks over at the table where his family are sitting, meets Ford's questioning gaze over the top of the booth. "I'm gonna...go get my own breakfast."

Thompson manages to swallow his mouthful of bacon for long enough to raise a hand and say, "See you round!" as Dipper walks away from their booth.

"Friends of yours?" Ford asks, as Dipper slides into the booth beside him. Mabel lets out an enormous bark of laughter, leaning across the table to smack Dipper on the arm.

"Friends of Wendy's." Her grin is both knowing and smug.

"Mabel," Dipper complains, and Mabel presses a hand over her mouth to cover her knowing giggles. Stan laughs, holding up a hand, and Mabel high-fives it, hard. "Seriously, it's not like that."

"I know that!" Mabel chirps. "You're just really easy to tease. Oh, and we ordered you pancakes because you were busy making goo-goo eyes at Tambry." She crosses her arms and leans her elbows against the table, looking intently at Dipper with that same knowing smile. "Or was it Thompson you had your eye on?"

"Oh my god, Mabel," Dipper sputters, unable to completely squash a laugh of his own at the face his sister makes. "Take off your matchmaker hat for five seconds, I'm not looking for an 'epic summer romance'. Neither of them showed up to hang out yesterday and Wendy was worried."

"Just those two?" Ford asks, quiet and serious. Dipper nods, and Ford frowns in thought. "Did you notice anything unusual about either of them during your conversation?"

"Seriously, poindexter? You wanna take a flashlight over there and shine it in their eyes?" Stan complains, then shrugs. " 'Cause if it'll make ya feel better, I'll hold 'em down for ya."

"Stanley, you're just saying that because you'll take any excuse to torment teenagers."

"Hey, I look at that as an unexpected bonus."

Dipper glances out around the side of the booth, but he can't see either Tambry or Thompson from where he's sitting. "I didn't notice anything," he says, at last, when he's sure he's not going to catch another glimpse and there's a break in Stan and Ford's good-natured bickering. "I mean, they both ordered huge breakfasts, but they're also both fifteen, sooo..."

This time, it's Ford who shoots Dipper a knowing smile, though it's far less smug than Mabel's. "Don't worry, my boy, you have more than enough time to hit a growth spurt."

"No way, José!" Mabel shouts, pumping a fist in the air. "Alpha twin for life!"

"Haha. Right. Keep gloating. While you still can," Dipper says, and Mabel sticks out her tongue.

Any further competition is cut short by the tantalising smell of fresh, hot pancakes wafting over the table. All four Pines look up to see Lazy Susan, loaded down with plates piled high with pancake stacks and a bottle of syrup.

A huge smile settles across Stan's face as his eyes land on her, and he reaches up to take the nearest two plates, passing one to Mabel. "Ahhh, a vision of loveliness. And you don't look half bad today either, Susan," he adds, his gaze shifting slightly from, Dipper realises, the pancakes to Susan's face.

"Oh, you old scoundrel," Susan titters, leaning over the table to set a plate of pancakes down in front of Dipper. Steam, barely visible, rises off the stack in little undulating waves, and Dipper's mouth waters.

"Oh, and this must be the mysterious handsome brother I've been hearing so much about!" Susan goes on, putting a platter of French toast and hashbrowns down in front of Ford with a smile and a flutter of her false eyelashes.

Ford's ears turn red. Stan clears his throat.

"We're identical twins," he mutters, and then, "Susan, doll, wouldja grab us some fresh coffee?"

"Coming right up!" Susan says. She pauses a moment before she turns to leave, though, and Dipper can see the thought drifting across her face. "Say, none of you all seen a white and grey tomcat around, have you? Mister Whiskers got out the other night, the little rascal, and I haven't seen him since."

Mabel and Dipper meet each other's eyes across the table, and Mabel shrugs.

"We will definitely keep an eye out for your cat, Susan!" she says, brightly. "Does he come when you call his name?"

"If he feels like it!" Susan laughs at her own joke - at least, she obviously thinks it's a joke. "Thanks, you folks."

She bustles off towards the kitchen. Stan's got half a pancake stuffed into his mouth almost before she turns her back.

"Slow down, no one's going to try to take it from you," Ford says, fond exasperation colouring his words as he pops open the cap on the bottle of syrup and pours a small lake into the middle of his plate.

It isn't until they're leaving the diner and Dipper glances over at the now-empty booth where Thompson and Tambry had been sitting that he figures out what had rubbed him wrong about their conversation earlier.

The whole time they'd been talking, he hadn't seen Tambry check her phone once.

...

Dipper starts taking notes. It's always been the best way to organise his thoughts, after all, and if he's going to figure out what's going on in Gravity Falls this summer, he's going to need to keep track of every detail, no matter how small or seemingly insignificant. He digs out the scuffed blue notebook he's been using as a sort of journal, sort of place to record good ideas or locations for episodes of that ghost hunting show that he's really looking at making now that he has access to the photography lab and the school's A/V equipment, opens to a new page, and scrawls the date and time at the top in blue ink.

He's still slouched on his bed, gnawing absently at the cap of the ballpoint he's using to write with and drumming his fingers against the page, when Mabel comes barrelling in, followed closely by Waddles. Mabel starts yanking open drawers in the dresser and flinging clothes out onto the floor behind her, while her pig trots over to bump his head against Dipper's arm and grunt hopefully up at him. Dipper smiles, and interrupts his pen-chewing to give Waddles a scratch under the chin. He's never seen a pig look quite so blissful.

"Dipper, have you seen my disco ball sweater?" Mabel asks, over her shoulder, and Dipper shrugs, shifting to get both hands free so he can give Waddles a scritch behind both ears at once.

"Thought you left it in Piedmont with the unicorn sweater."

Mabel turns, her eyes wide and her gaze flat and dead, like she's looking through a thousand miles of space. "I would never," she says, her voice heavy with quiet horror.

Dipper shrugs one shoulder. "You can look through your sweaters again, but I'm pretty sure you decided you only had room for one more and brought the one with the tinsel sleeves instead."

Mabel looks like she's about to burst into a wail of despair, but stops, snapping her fingers instead. "The tinsel sweater! That'll work." She slams the dresser drawer shut and launches herself at her bed instead, dragging a straining suitcase out from behind the head of the bed with some difficulty. The lid bursts open when she hoists it up into the bed, and a riot of colourful knitwear explodes out.

"Mabel?" Dipper asks, giving Waddles one last scratch before picking his pen back up.

"Yeah?"

"You...you really haven't noticed anything weird about town this visit?" He gnaws on his bottom lip.

Mabel must hear something in his voice, because she drops the handful of sweater she's holding and turns to face Dipper, sitting down on the floor with her back leaning against the box spring and mattress that make up her bed. "Look, we all know you're a paranoid panda. We love you anyway. You wouldn't be Dipper without the occasional wild goose chase after something spooky and supernatural."

Dipper feels himself deflate. He looks down at the chicken scratch of a list scrawled in his notebook, chomps down on the end of his pen and just holds it between his teeth.

"Yeah," he agrees, hollowly.

"But!" Mabel says brightly, and Dipper looks back up, to see her holding up a sweater with a cartoon alien holding a bottle of soda on the front, emblazoned with the slogan 'Take Me To Your Liter'. "That doesn't mean I don't want to go chasing wild geese with you!" She frowns. "Hey, you've got a big nerd-brain, does that expression make any sense to you?"

"I've never really understood it either," Dipper admits, cracking a smile when Mabel bursts out laughing. She gives a little sigh as her laughter dies down, smiling up at Dipper.

"So, let's go chase a wild goose! Who knows, we might even catch one."

...

With Mabel on the case with him, Dipper finally starts to feel like he's making some progress. All they really do is hang out, bum around the Shack with Wendy and tease Soos about his new exhibits or go to the pool or the arcade like they always do or tromp around in the woods, but having someone to talk through all his thoughts with (or...at, Mabel's input isn't always helpful or on-topic, though she does bring him back down to earth when his theories start getting away from him) helps Dipper get a better grasp of what he's seeing, what he's looking for. And Mabel notices stuff that Dipper never would've, or wouldn't have thought was important, like how Nate and Lee haven't had one single run-in with Blubs and Durland since the twins got to town, or how Gompers the goat hasn't been around lately, or how Tambry's mom has started wearing really bold red lipstick. (Dipper's not so sure that last one's really relevant, but he dutifully notes it down anyway. When he looks closer, trying to figure out if he's ever seen her wearing lipstick before, he realises he's never really noticed how much alike Tambry and her mom look. Maybe it's something to do with the striking green of both their eyes.) His little blue notebook fills up in no time.

Unfortunately, what it fills up with doesn't seem to add up to anything. When it was just Tambry and Thompson vanishing and then turning up hungry, and a stripped skeleton in the graveyard, it was pretty easy to point to zombies. But when Dipper and Mabel tag along to the pool with the teens - the older teens - Robbie mentions that his parents never did find an escaped zombie. He vanishes with Tambry behind the storage shed after that, with a grin that says they're definitely going to make out.

Dipper doesn't get a chance to ask Robbie any more questions for a couple of days - he's a no-show for paintball the next afternoon, which Dipper tries very hard to pretend to be disappointed about. Robbie's a sore loser and an even worse winner. Tambry and Thompson team up against the rest of the group, their surprisingly flawless teamwork taking everyone down but Wendy, who emerges paint-spattered but victorious. Then the whole group haul their battered selves downtown for ice cream, where the cashier smiles and gives them a ten percent discount. She nods at Tambry and Thompson as they leave, like she knows them from somewhere, and they nod back.

"Okay, did that just happen?" Wendy asks, as they leave the shop, and Nate nods.

"She's usually such a grouch. Just because one time we thought it'd be funny to order all forty-two flavours in one cone."

Dipper pulls out his notebook.

...

The Shack is dead at ten o'clock in the morning, the early morning rush of people who plan their trips down to the minute having come and gone, the more sane population who sleep in on vacation not yet starting to trickle in. Dipper has set up camp on a stool by the cash register with a crossword puzzle book, facing the door so he's ready for anyone who might come in. Wendy slumps over the counter by the register, her face in her arms, and lets out the occasional groan. Mabel, sitting on the counter beside her, is busily braiding and unbraiding Wendy's long hair.

"Why are we even open at this hour," Wendy complains, and Soos, leaning against the counter in his full Mr. Mystery regalia, frowns.

"What if some, like, little orphan kids came from like, deepest darkest Canada and the only thing they wanted to see was the Mystery Shack and it was closed, dood? Do you want to be the one to crush the dreams of little orphan children?"

"Uuuuuuugh," Wendy growls. "Stan was a horrible boss, but at least he never tried to make me actually care about this stupid job."

"Why are you so tired, anyway?" Mabel asks, and Soos nods.

"Yeah, dawg, what's the dilly? Yo."

Wendy doesn't raise her head from her arms this time, her voice muffled against the wood of the counter as she says, "Stupid Robbie's been bugging me to come to one of his stupid shows for, like, ever, so I actually went last night and that jerk didn't even show up. We waited for like an hour, then the band came on and did two songs without him, and then they just left."

"Sounds like you kind of dodged a bullet there," Dipper says, and Wendy groans again before pushing herself up to lean heavily on the counter on one elbow, her face in her hand. Mabel's braid creations slowly unravel around her head, giving her a little halo of stray red hairs.

"Look, I know you two have your, like, blood feud or whatever going on, but Robbie's still my friend. I guess. And that band is, like, the most important thing in the world to him." She frowns. "He wouldn't just flake out like that unless something was wrong. And I've tried texting and calling him, but he won't pick up his phone."

"Did you ask Tambry?" Mabel suggests, shrugging at the state of Wendy's hair and starting to pick apart the braids she'd put in.

"Tried that. She keeps saying he's 'fine, but sleeping'. Like, is he sick? Were they out together last night? Where the heck would they have even gone? And if he's been asleep all this time she should maybe take him to a hospital -"

The bell over the door jangles, and all four people around the counter look up.

"...hi," Pacifica Northwest says, and coughs into one hand. "I wanted to see whether Mabel was up for a rematch of last year's minigolf game." She tugs at the hem of her sweater, a shaggy yellow monstrosity with a llama on the front that Dipper vaguely remembers Mabel having given to Pacifica sometime during Weirdmageddon. "Just for...fff...un. Fun. That's that thing where there aren't any prizes or trophies and nobody really cares who wins, right?"

"Absolutely!" Mabel shouts, leaping down off the counter. She charges up to Pacifica and slings an arm around Pacifica's fuzzy-sweatered shoulders. Dipper's seen boiled lobsters less red than the shade Pacifica turns. "Wait, didn't the Lilliputtians swear eternal vengeance against us after last time?"

“Oh, you didn’t hear,” Pacifica says, still red, trying very hard to sound indifferent. “When the minigolf course opened up again this summer, none of the mechanisms were working. The Lilliputtians were gone. The minigolf course had to buy all new machinery from out of state.”

“Whoa, whoa, wait,” Dipper says, putting down his crossword. “The Lilliputtians are gone? Where’d they go? Why’d they go?”

Pacifica shrugs. “I don’t know, and I don’t care. Those little golf-ball-shaped weirdos can stay far, far away from me forever if they want to.”

Mabel’s giving Dipper a weird look, a ‘don’t make this into a monster hunt’ look, but Dipper ignores it.

“Can I come with you?” he asks.

...

There are no Lilliputtians at the minigolf course.

There are no tiny alien creatures piloting half a man-suit in the bowling alley.

There’s someone different delivering the mail, a reedy person Dipper doesn’t recognise. They don’t have anywhere near as much body hair as the previous mailman. (Or body odor.)

There are a few gaping holes in the sap under the abandoned church, but no mysterious shadows swooping overhead, no terrifying screeches in the distance. No sign of dinosaurs.

The lake is still and silent.

...

After hours of looking for something, anything, to prove he hadn’t just dreamed the entirety of last summer, Dipper finally finds the Multibear crouched at the back of his cave, deep in conversation with his many heads as he tosses things - mostly rocks, from what Dipper can see, but then again, it’s not like the Multibear has a lot other than rocks - into a sack the size of a compact car.

“Multibear,” Dipper says, and the Multibear starts, banging his top head on a low overhang.

“Dipper!” he says, but takes a step backwards. Dipper freezes in the mouth of the cave. Some of the heads around the Multibear’s waist are baring or snapping their teeth in his direction, and his friend has crouched down, into a position that would be easy to spring from. It’s hard to tell - bear faces don’t exactly show emotion the same way human faces do - but Dipper’s pretty sure the expression the Multibear’s wearing right now isn’t one of unfettered delight. “What brings you all the way out here?”

“I wanted to say hi, I haven’t seen you yet this summer,” Dipper says, looking around. The cave looks, if possible, even barer than the last time he saw it. “Dude, are you packing up? Are you leaving Gravity Falls?”

The Multibear fidgets. “Not...as such,” he says, his rich, deep voice taking on a note of disappointment.

“Seriously? Come on, tell me. What’s going on?” Dipper asks, wishing he sounded more like a cool action hero demanding information and less like an upset kid whining about something he doesn’t understand. “I can’t find any sign of any supernatural creatures around Gravity Falls this summer, it’s like you guys all just disappeared. And everybody in town is acting -” He struggles for words, and ends up just going with, “weirder than usual. And I can’t figure out why.”

Dipper’s not expecting the Multibear to heave a sigh of relief, and pad gently down the hall to drape one enormous paw over his shoulder. The paw swallows Dipper’s shoulder and nearly covers his arm down to the elbow, heat radiating out from it like a blast furnace. This close, Dipper can smell the gamey, musty scent of bear, strong enough to make his eyes water.

“Dipper,” the Multibear says gravely, “I am sorry to hear that the recent happenings in Gravity Falls have given you cause for concern, but I must confess I am glad to hear you questioning what is taking place. I must admit that for a moment, I feared -” He bites off the end of his sentence.

“Is that why you’re leaving?” Dipper asks. He’s not entirely sure what the Multibear’s talking about, but he has a strong feeling that he’s going to want to keep listening.

“I hope I am not leaving,” the Multibear says, “only retreating for a time. Something has emerged in Gravity Falls which has made it exceedingly dangerous for my kind.”

Dipper sucks in a breath between his teeth. There’s a chill in the cave, a damp breath from its depths that makes a shiver walk its way slowly down his spine. “What?”

The Multibear shakes one head, the brow of his main head furrowing. “I myself am not certain what, exactly, has occurred - or is occurring - in your town, but there are whispers throughout the forest, between those of us who know the ways of weirdness. I must warn you. Something very dangerous walks among you. It is a very old, very canny enemy, and it may wear the face of one you trust the most.”

“I thought we beat Bill,” Dipper mutters, and the Multibear gives his shoulder a short squeeze.

“Unfortunately, Bill Cipher is not the only evil in this world.”

...

“Whatsa matter?” Mabel asks, as she slides into the backseat of the Stanleymobile to nestle beside Dipper, motioning for Pacifica to follow. “You look like somebody just pointed out the ghost behind you.”

Dipper spins to look behind him so fast that his head throbs, and Mabel laughs, giving him a shove in the arm.

“I’m joking!” Her laughter dies away, though, when Dipper doesn’t join in. Pacifica pushes her golf clubs along the floor of the Stanleymobile, and Mabel unthinkingly lifts her feet to make room, not taking her eyes off Dipper’s face. “Seriously, bro, you look super spooked. What happened?”

“I don’t know,” Dipper admits.

Pacifica slides into the seat beside Mabel, and pulls the door closed behind her with a solid, final-sounding slam.

“You don’t know?” Mabel asks, as she buckles herself into her seat, and Dipper shrugs.

“I mean, I know what happened. I’m not sure what it means, though.” Dipper tugs on his own seatbelt, before remembering he hadn’t taken it off when the Stanleymobile had pulled to a stop.

“Oh, well, that’s different,” Mabel says. “Grunkle Stan? Can Pacifica stay over?”

“Hey, it ain’t my house,” Stan calls back from the driver’s seat, with a shrug. Mabel takes this as a ‘yes’, evidently, judging by her squeal of delight.

“Thanks,” Pacifica says, trying to buckle her own seatbelt and fumbling it, painfully. Even though her face is pointed down, all her concentration apparently on the buckle, what Dipper can see past her probably-bottle-blonde bangs is bright crimson again. “I know you’re poor and everything so having an extra mouth to feed is probably a big strain on your resources -”

“Friendly advice? You should’ve stuck with just ‘thanks’,” Dipper interrupts. Pacifica shrugs, finally clicking her seatbelt into place and burrowing her face down into the collar of her fuzzy llama sweater.

“You kids all properly restrained and not likely to go flying through the windshield?” Stan asks, meeting Dipper’s eyes in the rearview mirror. Dipper nods. “Great! Now nobody’s rich parents can sue me if I crash their kid into a tree.”

The Stanleymobile peels out of the minigolf course parking lot at speeds that are probably unsafe even for drivers who can actually see the road.

Stan asks, with practiced casualness, about the game after about five minutes of driving, and Dipper lets Mabel’s excited - and, like everything else ever to come from Mabel, wildly embellished - blow-by-blow recap of the game, with colour commentary from Pacifica, wash over him, gently eroding the tight knot of panic still pulsing in his chest.

He digs in his backpack and pulls out his notebook, trying to take advantage of the dying orange glow of sunset to scribble down notes on everything he’s discovered so far today.

The Multibear’s warning still unsettles him. Dipper looks around, at Pacifica’s look of indignant embarrassment, Stan’s fond smile in the rearview mirror as he stares at the road, his sister’s happy, laughing face.

...it may wear the face of one you trust the most.

Feeling slightly sick, Dipper closes his notebook, and tucks it back inside his backpack.

...

He’s woken bright and early the next morning by Pacifica’s shriek.

Dipper tumbles out of bed half-blinded by sleep, and promptly trips on the blankets he’s somehow entangled himself with, slamming face-first to the floor. His jaw cracks against the bare wood, and Dipper smells copper, tastes it in the back of his mouth.

The pain hits him a moment later, when he’s unwound his legs from the blankets and pushed himself to his feet. He clutches his chin as he tears down the stairs, towards the source of the scream. If Pacifica’s freaking out because she saw a spider or a box of store-brand cereal or something, he’s going to be so mad.

But it’s not any of the above. Pacifica’s standing in her bare feet and one of the grunkles’ old t-shirts, which is obviously serving her as a nightshirt, in the middle of the kitchen, her eyes brimming with horror and one shaking finger pointing at the abomination that dominates the kitchen table. “What - what is that?” she demands, as Dipper skids on sock feet around the doorframe and into the kitchen.

Dipper takes one look at the half-formed thing on the table and breathes a sigh of relief. “Oh, that’s just one of Grunkle Stan’s taxidermy monsters. Soos was getting him to make a bunch while the Stans are inland, he’s tried to pick it up himself but Stan has more practice. And more ideas that don’t involve tentacles.”

“Taxidermy monsters?” Pacifica demands. She hugs her own arms as Dipper steps forward to inspect the thing a little closer.

“Yeah, Grunkle Stan puts them together out of bits of a bunch of different dead animals and then passes them off as nonexistent ones. They’re a big hit at the Shack.” There’s glue spread out across the table, glue and wire and foam and clay, little chisels and brushes and scalpels and needles and other tools of the taxidermy trade that Dipper is surprised to see surrounding the thing in the middle of the table. “I’m honestly surprised he actually knows how to use all this junk. I saw him staple the head onto one once. Not with a special stapler or anything, just an office stapler.”

“Where...does he get the...bits of dead animals?” Pacifica asks, her discomfort clear even as she takes a slow, careful step forward. Dipper notices that she keeps a wary eye on the thing on the table, especially the places where the fur peels back to reveal shining bone.

“Usually it’s roadkill,” Dipper admits, leaning in closer. The armature Stan’s put together has the thing standing a little like a velociraptor, and he’s pretty sure the hind legs are stolen from a chicken, but he’s having a little trouble identifying the animal that makes up the foundation of the made-up monster.

It takes him a moment to realise that the marks he’s seeing on the bones weren’t made by a clumsy taxidermist, but by teeth. Blunt, flat teeth.

“Usually?” Pacifica says.

“Sometimes it’s the carcass from last night’s chicken dinner,” Dipper admits. He gently tugs the fur down over the thing’s skull, noticing as he does how soft it is.

The animal’s pelt, once properly spread out, is tabby-patterned, in a soft grey and white.

“Think we found Mister Whiskers,” he mutters, under his breath.

...

Pacifica leaves around lunchtime, thanking Mabel and Soos in her awkward, halting way. Honestly, it’s nice that she’s trying, but it’s painful to listen to sometimes, especially when Pacifica starts offering to buy things for people ‘so you don’t have to live such sad, miserable, deprived little lives anymore’. Dipper retreats to the attic, to write in his notebook and to read over what he’s already written and to think.

He finds Stan in the kitchen, shortly after Pacifica’s left and Dipper dares descend onto the main floor again. Dipper was really looking for Ford, to hand over his notebook and talk about his observations, but this is a golden opportunity. Stan’s carefully and painstakingly reapplying the fur to the skeleton along the spine with glue, obviously deep in concentration. He doesn’t look up when Dipper walks in, just says, “Bump this table and I’ll stuff you instead.”

Dipper holds up both hands, palms out, taking a respectful step back. The smell of the glue that Stan’s using is foul and inescapable, and Dipper’s pretty sure he can feel it killing his brain cells. “Where’d you get the cat carcass from?”

Stan grunts, and then doesn’t make another sound. Just when Dipper’s starting to think he’s not going to get an answer, Stan says, “Found it. Dumpster by the minigolf.” He paints another line of glue, carefully sticks the very centre of the tabby stripe directly onto the bones. Dipper’s pretty sure that’s not how you do taxidermy, but then again, he’s never tried. “Seemed a shame to let good bones go to waste.”

“Was it just bones?” Dipper asks, watching as the skeleton slowly disappears behind its fur coat. He hadn’t noticed before, while Pacifica was still here, but there are large, roughly oval chunks missing from its pelt.

Stan takes a step back from his handiwork, surveying it thoughtfully with one hand curled around his chin. “Yeah, yeah. Bones and the pelt. Figured some amateur’d tried to stuff it proper, realised they had no idea what they were doing, and ditched it.”

“Did it occur to you that that might be the cat Susan was missing?” Dipper asks, and Stan finally turns that thoughtful gaze on him instead of the taxidermy creature. Dipper can't - doesn't want to - examine the rush of relief that floods through him when he sees Stan's eyes, the same old brown as always, no slitted pupils or eerie yellow glow.

“D’you wanna be the one to tell her?”

“No, I just -” Dipper’s tongue seems to shrivel up. “Wouldn’t it be rough on her if she came up here one day and -”

“Kid, none of the locals visit this tourist trap,” Stan scoffs, and then pauses, thinking. “Except the mayor. Really loves his pumanthers. Anyway. What’s with the sudden interest in taxidermy?”

“It’s...interesting?” Dipper tries. Stan snorts.

“Interesting, my Aunt Fanny. You chasing a monster, kid?”

Dipper rubs his upper arm with one hand. “I think so.”

“Well, don’t use this guy as bait.” Stan turns back to the taxidermy creation, sucks in a short breath, and then leans down to paint glue across a rib.

...

The last tour runs at six-thirty. The Mystery Shack closes at seven.

Grenda and Candy show up at seven-oh-one, with a large bag full to bursting with brightly-coloured snack foods, various cosmetics, DVDs featuring a generically-nonthreatening-looking forty-year-old actor wearing an overstuffed pirate costume, and something that looks suspiciously like hair dye lurking at the bottom. Mabel greets them at the door with excited shrieks and giggles, and then they all vanish upstairs with a lot of conspiratorial whispers and more giggles. Dipper would put ten-to-one odds that the next time he goes to use the bathroom up there, the sink will be stained neon pink and blue.

The attic will probably be occupied for the near foreseeable future, so Dipper takes the book he’s reading (by a former ghostwriter for the Siblings Brothers and Francy Clue, technically aimed at adults, but then, Dipper is pretty mature for his age, if he does say so himself) and heads down to the living room, to see what his grunkles and Soos are up to. As it turns out, they're sprawled in front of the TV, Stan slouched on the couch Soos had added after he'd taken over the Shack, grousing about a dropped stitch in the bundle of half-finished knitting that lies in his lap. Ford sits next to him, nodding along and holding the ball of yarn that feeds into to the thing taking shape under Stan's knitting needles with one hand while he thumbs through a well-read book with the other.

"Wow, Grunkle Stan, I didn't know you knit," Dipper says, pausing by the armchair Soos himself has settled down in, facing the TV set.

"Yeah, your sister gave me some lessons over the internet while we were at sea," Stan grumbles, not looking up from the...garment?...he's picking at. "Not a lot to do between monster attacks."

"It's 'over video chat', Stanley, the video chat merely uses the internet as a method of transmission," Ford corrects him, turning a page in his book, and Stan huffs.

"That's what I said, isn't it? Over the internet."

"You can just say 'on Skope', Mr. Pines," Soos says, and Stan drops his knitting in his lap, throwing both hands up in the air.

"Your sister showed me through the magic talking picture box, kid," he says to Dipper.

Ford and Soos share a long-suffering look, which Stan ignores.

"What're she and those friends of hers up to, anyway?" he continues, and then shakes his head. "Wait, scratch that, I don't think I wanna know. Just tell me if they're gonna want the TV and whether they got any good snacks."

"I think they're definitely going to want the TV," Dipper says. "What're you guys watching, anyway?"

"Huh? Oh." Stan glances briefly at the set. "I have no idea, kid, I've been fighting with this row for half an hour."

"The news ends in five minutes and then 'Resignation Street' comes on," Soos supplies helpfully. "Louise's ex-husband came back from Guernsey and now he's trying to get the pub closed down, and Geoff's stepdaughter ran away from rehab for her online shopping addiction on the night of Ted and Twyla's wedding. High drama, dood."

"...Think I'll pass," Dipper says, holding up his book.

"Actually, Dipper, I'd like to speak with you," Ford says, and then looks up from his own book and beams. "Oh! Catherine Sharp! She ghost-wrote 'The Table-Turning Turntable', didn't she?"

"Yeah! It's probably my, uh, second-favourite of the Siblings Brothers books?" Dipper agrees, flopping down to sit beside his great-uncle on the couch.

"Really? My favourite was always -" Ford starts, and Dipper joins him as he says, " 'The Puzzle of the Purloined Puzzle-box'!"

"Geez, you two, don't get nerd all over the couch," Stan grumbles, but he's smiling.

"The twist ending just gets me every time!" Dipper says, too excited to let Stan's teasing slow him down. "I mean, I never would've guessed that -"

"Hey!" Stan interrupts, suddenly gruff. "No spoilers, I'm only halfway through it."

"Stanley, you're reading the Siblings Brothers mysteries?" Ford asks, turning to face his twin.

"Yeah, and not a word outta you about it, Mister Smarty-pants," Stan snaps.

"I didn't mean to - I'm merely surprised. You always said you hated them." Ford raises an eyebrow. "And books in general."

Stan glares down at his knitting. "Yeah, well, I always said I didn't need glasses, neither, and look at me now."

"Hey, Mr. Pineses? They're signing off, Reggie'll be starting any minute now," Soos interrupts, drawing Dipper's attention back to the TV.

"Soos, how many times do I gotta tell you," Stan says, as the news anchor finishes his signoff. "I'm not your boss anymore, you can just call me Stan."

"I'm sorry, Mr. Pines! It just feels...wrong."

"Was - was that Toby Determined announcing?" Dipper asks. "Wow, can't believe he stuck with that...Bodacious T thing."

Stan glances over. "Yeah, it's obnoxious and ugly, perfect for him." He squints at the screen as the first morose notes of the Resignation Street theme start to play. "Wonder what happened to that Shandra Jimenez, she sure was a lot easier on the eyes."

"Me too," Dipper mutters. "Grunkle Ford, are you really invested in this soap opera, or can we talk now?"

"Hm? Oh, yes!" Ford says, looking up from the screen. "Yes, I have some theories about the unusual behaviour you've noticed amongst the townsfolk -"

"You two are still on that?" Stan asks, and though he sounds impatient, sarcastic, Dipper thinks he hears a note of unease underneath it.

Ford ignores him. "But, first, I would like to know whether Cecil will be able to recapture Vicky's escaped alpaca."

"After the show, then," Dipper says, with a smile, and cracks open his book.

...

Cecil doesn't, as it turns out, recapture Vicky's escaped alpaca - instead, the alpaca turns up at Ted and Twyla's wedding, interrupting the vows to take a bite out of the bouquet. Mabel, Candy, and Grenda come stampeding downstairs shortly after that, shouting something that sounds vaguely like a sea shanty run through autotune. They enter into pitched negotiations with Stan and Soos over control of the TV set, and Ford motions towards the kitchen. He pushes himself up off the couch, leaving Stan's yarn in his abandoned seat, and Dipper follows.

The wall between the kitchen and the living room muffles the din somewhat, Grenda's impressive bass occasionally rumbling over the tinny music from the TV. The sun has just started to dip into the treeline, and the light pours low and thick across the table. With a little distance, in the reaching shadows and orangey light cast by early sunset, the cheerful noise of Dipper's family in the other room takes on an eerie quality. He catches himself thinking that, if he were directing a horror movie, right about now is when he'd start to fade out the voices from the living room and start to introduce some quiet, creepy strings to the score.

Ford’s face is solemn, his voice low as he lays the book he’d been thumbing through earlier out across the kitchen table. “Based on both the information you’ve provided and my own research and investigations, I have a theory about the cause of this unusual behaviour you’ve observed.” He presses a finger against one of the open pages of the book, right beside where Dipper notices Ford’s own handwriting filling the margin. “People disappearing, those who reappear coming back ravenous - for protein-rich foods, if your observations can be extrapolated - the appearance of carcasses with human bite-marks - the casual observer could be forgiven for mistaking this for an epidemic of zombification, but I believe it’s something more like - this!”

Dipper looks down at the page in front of him, his eyes widening as he reads. “You think there’s a wendigo in Gravity Falls?” He kind of wishes he had a pen to click. Or gnaw on. “Actually, that makes a lot of sense, they’re native to the area, aren’t they?”

“Yes, which would explain the warning you received from -”

“The Multibear!" Dipper slams both hands down on the table. “Okay, so if it’s a wendigo, how do we get rid of it?”

“Well,” Ford starts, bending over the book, and it’s then that Mabel’s voice rings from the doorway.

“And here you see two nerds in their natural habitat.” She grins at Dipper when he looks up, jerking her thumb over her shoulder in the direction of the living room. “You guys wanna watch Pirates of the Theme Park with us? This’s the eighth and a half one, where Captain Jim gets kidnapped by mermaids!” She leans in closer, swinging from one hand that she’s hooked around the doorframe. “Mermando told me his cousin was an extra! She’s in it for about five seconds in the drowning scene!”

“Really? They hire actual mermaids as extras in Hollywood?” Dipper asks, and Mabel laughs.

“No, silly, she’s a porpoise!”

“Oh. Of course. That makes perfect sense. Of course a mermaid’s cousin is a porpoise.” Dipper shakes his head. “Gotta say, that makes a whole lot more sense though. Especially when you consider how terrible most movie mermaids look. CGI is not kind.”

“Yeah, they’re waaaayyy hotter in real life,” Mabel says. “So, you two coming or not?”

Dipper looks over, meets Ford’s eyes.

“We won’t be able to do much more tonight,” Ford says. “Research, perhaps. We’ll have to determine who the wendigo is, and whether they’ve passed the curse along to anyone else, and I need to refresh my memory on how to detect and properly destroy them. Until we know who we’re looking for, we can’t act.”

“I’m gonna pretend I understood any of that,” Mabel says, swinging back and forth from the doorframe.

“Grunkle Ford’s pretty sure that there’s a wendigo on the loose somewhere in town and that’s why we keep noticing weird - weirder than usual things going on,” Dipper says. “Do you have any idea who it might be? Seen anybody, I don’t know, handing out self-help books called ‘How To Taste Delicious’?”

Mabel laughs, and shakes her head. “You could start with Lazy Susan, her secret recipes are sure good at fattening people up,” she suggests. Dipper glances in Fords direction, shrugs.

“It’s as good a starting point as any.” Ford slams the book on the table closed, scooping it up. “I’m going to go retrieve my old research notes, I’m certain I have information about the established cryptids and monsters of the area from when I was writing my grant proposal.”

“I’ll look online,” Dipper starts, and Ford shakes his head, smiling.

“Unless Stanley or Soos have taken a notion to clean out the attic lately, I know exactly where my old notes are. And I think it might be a good idea to bring them down to review - in the living room, while we watch Captain Jim get kidnapped by mermaids.”

Mabel beams like a small sun. “Awesome!”

...

Wendy hasn’t arrived for work by the time Dipper’s ready to leave in the morning.

He tries not to dwell on it, but his eye keeps drifting back to the empty space behind the register the longer he stands in the doorway of the gift shop waiting for his great uncle, like it’s a black hole that’s swallowed Wendy up and is now trying to suck Dipper in too. It’s a relief when Ford finally pushes aside the vending machine, a big black case slung across his back by a strap that crosses his chest. He doesn’t say what’s in it, and Dipper doesn’t ask.

“I have a theory,” Ford says, as he crosses the gift shop. “About where the wendigo is hiding during daylight hours. But it will require one of us to go into the den of the creature itself to prove. I - I’m not going to bring you with me, this time.” Something like fear flickers across his face, so fast that it’s gone before Dipper can really be sure he’s even seen it in the first place. It’s replaced by a huge, cheerful, reassuring smile, one that even to Dipper looks unconvincing. “So I’m going to drop you off in town. If I’m not back to pick you up by sunset, assume the worst and avenge my death.”

“That’s...not exactly reassuring,” Dipper says, as Ford strides to the door and yanks it open, the chimes hanging over the door jingling merrily. Ford stops and looks over his shoulder, with another broad, sunny grin.

“Oh! And if I come back after sunset, I might be one of them. You might be able to tell by sprinkling me with wolfsbane and holy water, but that’s mostly for werewolves.” He pauses, looking thoughtful. “Though if you’re that close and I am one of them, I will almost certainly try to eat you, which should remove all doubt.”

“Again, not super reassuring,” Dipper says, as he follows his great-uncle out the door.

He glances back one last time at the cash register, as though Wendy will have magically appeared there in the five seconds since he last looked, but the blonde wood of the Shack’s walls is the only thing that looks back.

...

They only make it away with the Stanleymobile because Soos shows up with a tour group just as Stan's starting to tear into Ford for trying to take his baby without asking. Dipper slips into the passenger seat and shuts the door as Stan's trying to argue that there's no way Soos can make him work register while Wendy’s away, he doesn’t even work here, also he is the one, the only, the original Mr. Mystery, he built this place from nothing, Soos -

Ford drops Dipper off at the diner, with another admonition to be careful, to watch his back. The sky is a perfect, crisp blue, the sunlight clear as crystal, but there’s a glacial bite on the breeze that makes Dipper shiver as he steps out of the musty, stuffy warmth of the car.

Lazy Susan looks up and smiles as Dipper steps through the door into the comforting smell of pancakes and bacon and maple syrup, setting the chimes jangling a cheerful discord. She’s not the only one. Half the diner’s clientele all look up with her, both familiar and unfamiliar faces smiling at Dipper with oddly placid expressions. He feels uncomfortably like he just stepped into a spotlight.

Thankfully, everyone but Susan turns back to their food and their quiet conversations as soon as the door slams behind Dipper. Susan waves, beaming, as Dipper cautiously crosses the diner to the counter, watching warily around him in case any of the unusually-interested diner folk spring out at him. There’s something different about Lazy Susan, about her smile, but Dipper can’t quite put his finger on what.

“Well, hey there! What can I getcha?” Susan glances back over her shoulder at the kitchen, smile dimming a little as she turns back to Dipper. “ ‘Fraid we’re running short on sausage and bacon, but I can do you a stack of pancakes - or maybe my special secret ingredient omelette?”

“Is the secret ingredient coffee?” Dipper asks, and Susan belly-laughs, before turning a mock glare in his direction.

“Now, who’s the snitch who told you?”

Dipper tries to laugh, but it comes out nervous and croaky. A couple of the people who’d looked up when he’d walked in are echoing Susan’s glare, and the back of his neck is prickling. “Lucky guess?”

Susan’s smile comes back bright as ever. The other eyes on Dipper don’t turn away, though, and the weird prickling on the back of his neck doesn’t go away. “Well, aren’t you Mister Smartypants! So! You want one?”

“Um, I’m good, thanks,” Dipper says. “Did - did you ever find out what happened to your missing cat?”

“You know, it’s the funniest thing,” Susan says, thoughtfully. “Mister Whiskers never did come back, and now all my other fur babies are missing.”

“I’m...really sorry to hear that,” Dipper says. “You seemed really upset about losing Mister Whiskers, this must be a huge deal.”

Susan shrugs. “What’s that thing they say about letting go of things you love, again?”

“I think they usually say ‘don’t’,” Dipper says. “You haven’t noticed anything...weird about anybody who’s come by the diner lately, have you?”

“This is Gravity Falls, hon,” Susan says, almost pityingly, then claps both hands together. “Are you making another internet television video?”

“Not...this time,” Dipper answers. He’s pretty sure it’s not just his imagination that more heads have turned in his direction, more pairs of unusually piercing eyes fixed on his face. “You’re sure you haven’t - you said you were running low on bacon. Who’s been eating all of it?”

“Everybody!” Susan says, delightedly, like it should be obvious. There’s something a little too earnest about her smile, a little impatient, strained at the edges. Dipper can’t remember if her visible eye was always that green. “Don’t you know, everybody wakes up hungry!”

Dipper takes a half-step back, bumps up against one of the stools along the counter. “Wakes up from what?”

“From sleeping, silly!” Susan laughs. She hasn’t moved, and, as far as Dipper can tell, neither has anyone else, but he still has the uneasy feeling that they’re closing in around him. “It’s actually very refreshing, you should give it a try!”

“Thanks, but, uh, I’m good,” Dipper says, trying to casually ease his way around the stool to back away across the diner. He’s not sure what, exactly, Susan’s referring to, but somehow he gets the feeling it’s not going to bed before ten.

He turns to go out the door and slams straight into a wall of pure muscle. Dipper looks up, and farther up, to the pair of sharp green eyes staring down at him over a bush of red beard topping a mountain of flannel. Dipper’s heart stutters in his chest for the skin of a second, before Manly Dan Corduroy gives a rumbly chuckle unlike anything Dipper’s ever heard from him before and steps out of the way, holding the diner door open for Dipper as he does.

“Come back soon, hon,” Susan calls, and, when Dipper turns, lifts her drooping eyelid with two fingers and lets it drop again. “Wink!”

Dipper’s halfway across the parking lot before he slows down, before he really even registers that he’s running full-tilt across the cracked asphalt.

He could swear that, when he’d looked back, something under the skin of Susan’s face had shifted.

...

Going back through town is strange, now.

Dipper feels jittery and jumpy, like he’s had too much caffeine or too little sleep or a combination of both. The light is bright and stark through the scraps of cloud that hang around the horizon like they’ve snagged on the tops of the trees, and shadows hug the sides and corners of buildings, dark and sharp, like they’re waiting to pounce. The afternoon heat is starting to build, but a shiver works its way down his back anyway. He keeps looking back over his shoulder, feeling eyes fixed on him. He never actually catches anyone looking, but - but.

Dipper’s looking back, trying to work out if the man he can see in the window of the mattress store is really watching him. He’s not looking where he’s going.

The collision takes him by surprise, knocking him back off his feet. He hits the sidewalk hard, hissing as his elbow scrapes against the sidewalk, the rough grit stinging as it tears his skin.

“Hey, watch it, kid,” a familiar voice snaps, and Dipper looks up to see Robbie frowning down at him. Beside him, Tambry turns to glance down at Dipper as well. Her green eyes are almost luminous under the shadow of her bangs.

“Oh hey, you’re bleeding,” Tambry says, her gaze locking onto Dipper’s elbow.

Robbie’s eyes follow, like mirror images of Tambry’s, and linger hungrily on the trickle of blood working its way down Dipper’s arm, flashing an eerie green in his sallow face.

Dipper claps a hand over the scrape, backing away as he scrambles to his feet. “It’s fine, it’s just a scrape!”

Tambry looks questioningly at Dipper, but when he takes another step back, she shrugs and flops an arm loosely across to hit her boyfriend in the chest with the back of her hand. “Well, at least apologise, loser.”

Robbie rolls his eyes, but he says, “Sorry I ran into you or whatever.” They step around Dipper, starting to walk away, but Robbie looks back over his shoulder, pointing one finger straight at Dipper’s nose. “But seriously, watch where you’re going, you little -”

“Robbie.” Tambry hooks a hand into Robbie’s hoodie strings and hauls him around to walk beside her. A moment later, her hand drops to interlace her fingers with his.

Dipper keeps backing away from them, before he realises he’s one hundred percent more likely to bump into someone else that way. He spins, just in time to see the Stanleymobile pull up to the curb alongside him. Dipper hurries over, heaving a sigh of relief as he throws open the passenger-side door. “Great-uncle Ford?”

Ford’s face is grim, and he waves Dipper into the car with a motion that’s almost frantic. “Dipper, get inside. Quickly!”

“You don’t have to tell me twice,” Dipper says, sliding into the passenger seat and slamming the door behind him. Ford doesn’t wait for him to finish buckling his seatbelt, but peels away from the curb with a squeal of tires, his mouth set in a grim line and his eyes fixed on the road. “Whoa, have you been taking driving lessons from Grunkle Stan?”

Ford, if he even hears Dipper, ignores the question. “I need to get back to my lab as soon as possible. It appears that I have...gravely misinterpreted the nature of the threat.”

“I was sort of starting to think our wendigo theory might be a little off-base,” Dipper agrees, finally clicking his seatbelt into place as they take a corner on what Dipper’s pretty sure are only two wheels. “What’s the rush?”

Ford turns to look at Dipper for the first time since Dipper got into the car, staring intently at Dipper’s eyes. He turns back to the road, apparently satisfied, just in time to swerve around a deer that darts across the road.

“Our explorations in the alien spaceship last summer appear to have disturbed more than just the security drones,” he says, at last. “I can’t be certain just what we’re dealing with until I run further tests, but - I believe I have the source contained in the trunk of this car.”

“Seriously? Oh man, Grunkle Stan’s really gonna kill us,” Dipper says.

“Don’t worry, I’m sure the stains will come out of the upholstery - and even if they don’t, I’m not certain they’ll make any noticeable difference to the relative cleanliness of that trunk,” Ford says, leaning forward over the steering wheel to peer out the windshield at the trees lining the road. Dipper looks out the passenger window himself, thinks he sees figures flicker past between the trees as they drive past.

“What’re you planning to do with it when you get it back to the Shack?” he asks, watching as the trees flash by.

“With any luck, I should be able to determine just what the creature has done to the residents of Gravity Falls who’ve been affected,” Ford says. Dipper glances over, notices the needle on the speedometer edging up towards eighty as they fly around one of the road’s many curves. “And with that information, I hope to be able to develop a cure.”

“A cure? What do you think -”

“I don’t know.” The words seem to drag their way out of Ford like they’re anchored somewhere in his lungs. “But I intend to find out.”

...

Ford goes straight to the basement as soon as they arrive, carrying something that looks like a cross between a proton pack and a vacuum cleaner under one arm and striding like a man on a mission. Stan, slouched on the stool behind the register, watches the vending machine door slam behind Ford before turning to Dipper. “No luck with that...wendigo problem you two were nerding out about last night, huh?”

“It wasn’t an wendigo, it was aliens,” Dipper says, unable to look away from the flickering fluorescent glow that illuminates the brightly-coloured foil wrappings of the vending machine’s contents.

“Ah,” Stan grunts, sounding uncomfortable. “Well, whatever it is, hope he fixes it fast. This place needs its real cashier back.” He grumbles, in an undertone he almost definitely doesn’t think Dipper can hear, “Bein’ on till again’s bringing back memories, sure, but I’m not so sure I want ’em.”

Dipper walks over to the vending machine, feeling a little like he’s walking up to the guillotine, and punches in the code to open the hidden door. “I’m gonna go see if I can help Great-uncle Ford,” he starts, and then pauses when the door doesn’t open. “Um, did anybody change the code on this thing?”

“Not that I know of, kid,” Grunkle Stan says.

Dipper gives the vending machine door a tug, but it stays stubbornly stuck in place, like it’s - “Grunkle Stan, does this door lock from the inside?”

“If it does, only my nerd brother’d know about it,” Stan says, and then meets Dipper’s eyes. “Look, kid. Dipper. It ain’t anything against you.”

“Isn’t - Grunkle Stan, he just locked me out of my own investigation!”

Stan shifts uncomfortably on the small stool, scratching at his back with one arm. “Look, I might still not remember much about - about the end of last summer, but I know it got pretty bad for a while there.” He breaks eye contact, clasping both hands in front of him and looking down at them. “I know I never wanna see you kids in a situation like that ever again, and I don’t even remember the half of it.”

“I can handle myself!” Dipper argues. “I did handle myself -”

“I know that,” Stan says. “Hell, I’d be surprised if anyone in this town didn’t know that. Just -” His speech trails off into frustrated silence, before he finally says, “Just don’t go borrowin’ trouble.”

Dipper glares up at the glare of the afternoon sun across the glass face of the vending machine.

He still tries the code one more time before he gives up and heads for the attic, just in case.

...

Ford doesn’t come up for dinner.

He doesn’t come up for Resignation Street, either. When Soos finally suggests that maybe Dipper and Mabel should think about pyjamas, dawgs, and Stan shoos them both upstairs to brush their teeth, Ford still hasn’t emerged from the basement.

Dipper can’t sleep that night.

He lies wide awake, his eyes open, staring at the beams that stretch over his head on the way to the peak of the roof, listening to the sough of the wind through the branches and smelling the faint scent of pine and clear water on the cool night air that seeps through the open window. Sometimes, if he’s very still, he thinks he can hear the occasional faint hint of a crash or thump, but it’s impossible to tell from the attic whether the sound is coming from the basement or somewhere outside.

No matter how deep and slow he breathes or how many prime numbers he counts, sleep still seems to hover just out of Dipper’s grasp. When he does manage to snatch handfuls of oblivion, they’re full of green eyes peering at him from the dark line of trees surrounding the Shack, and he always wakes startled and disoriented and more tired than before.

The room sinks slowly from blue dark into the silvery shadows of midnight, and then into the velvet-soft blackness of early morning.

Wendy comes in to work that morning, after pale lavender dawn has spilled across the sky and the whole family (minus Ford) have eaten their way through a foot-tall stack of Stancakes and Mabel has asked Dipper ten times or more whether he’s all right. She shows up exactly on time, for once, her thick red hair pulled back in a fat braid and a broad, genuine smile on her face.

“Hey, dude,” she says to Dipper, who’s just settling down by the register with his crossword puzzle and definitely not staring expectantly at the vending machine. “What’s up? Soos in yet?”

“He’s just suiting up, he should be right -” Dipper looks up from his crossword puzzle (which he was definitely looking at, and not the vending machine, by the way), and his words shrivel and die in his throat.

Wendy looks back at him with acid green eyes, her smile slowly fading into confusion. “Dipper? You planning to, I dunno, finish that sentence?”

“You,” Dipper croaks. He swallows, hard. It drags down his throat, suddenly dry, like sandpaper. “You’re - you’re one of them.”

Wendy blinks. And then she smiles.

“Yeesh, dude, chill out,” she says, walking over to drop her bag on the counter beside the register and vaulting over it herself. “You sound like you’re in some kinda cheesy B-rated alien invasion movie.”

“Because I kind of am!” Dipper protests. Wendy leans down, rummaging under the counter, and straightens up with her name badge in one hand, carefully pinning it to the front of her flannel shirt. She lets out a long sigh, leaning her chin in one hand as she stares at Dipper.

“Dipper, seriously, stop freaking out. The hive’s not gonna hurt you.” Wendy glances upwards, towards the ceiling. “Where’s Mabel, anyway? I’ll show you guys -”

“You’re not touching my sister,” Dipper blurts, before he can think that it might be a bad idea to challenge Wendy, before he can think at all. It just feels like a volcano erupted in his chest at the same time as someone dumped a bucket of ice water over him, and he doesn’t know what to do with the resulting reaction. He reaches out and grabs the broom that Soos keeps asking Wendy to put away instead of just leaning behind the register, nearly smacking Wendy in the head as he pulls it free. “Get out of my house.”

Wendy’s brow furrows in apparent exasperation. “Okay. Well, in case you’re having, like, a Stan moment, I do still work here.”

“I don’t care,” Dipper says. His heart is jackhammering in his chest, and everything feels strangely light and far too heavy all at the same time.

“And Soos is a lot nicer than Stan ever was, but I don’t think even he’d be thrilled if I just don’t show up for work two days in a row,” Wendy says, still in that calm, totally reasonable tone of voice, like Dipper’s the one who’s acting weird here.

“Just get out,” Dipper demands, brandishing the broom. The corners of his eyes feel threateningly hot, and he squeezes the broom handle in both hands until he’s pretty sure he’s in danger of giving himself splinters. “Get away from my family.”

Wendy just looks at him, that poisonous green stare blank and impassive.

“Fine,” she says, at last, just when Dipper’s starting to think that he’s actually going to have to fight her, trying to psych himself up for the fact that he’s almost certainly going to lose. “Okay, man. If it’s such a big deal to you then I’ll go.” She pushes herself to her feet, points a finger in Dipper’s direction. “But you’re covering my shift.”

“Fine,” Dipper agrees. Relief crashes over him, threatens to sweep him away. “Just - go.”

Wendy holds up both hands, palms out, like Dipper’s brandishing a gun instead of a broom. She gathers her bag back up, and turns and walks out the door.

Dipper runs over and slams the gift shop door behind her, shooting the deadbolt with shaking hands. He sags against it as soon as it’s locked, and rests there for a moment, just trying to catch his breath.

...

He tries the vending machine again.

It still won’t open.

...

Dipper runs into Stan before he finds Soos, still suiting up for the first of the morning’s tours. He’s pretty sure he just confused Stan with his incoherent babble, but he doesn’t have time to go back.

“We can’t open the Shack today,” Dipper yells, skidding around the corner into Soos’ room. Soos turns away from the mirror he’s using to straighten his bow tie, and Dipper can’t put into words the rush of relief that floods him at the sight of Soos’ familiar, warm brown eyes. “We can’t let anybody in - we have to lock down the Shack, it’s the only way.”

“What’s going on, dawg?” Soos asks, and Dipper babbles again, spilling out the story of the strange green eyes and the weird ways people have been acting and Ford and the alien and Wendy and -

“Okay, dood, I believe you,” Soos says, and his expression is so thankfully serious that Dipper believes he means it. “You should go tell Mabel about this, I think she was gonna go to the pool with her friends today -”

Dipper’s off before Soos finishes speaking.

He’s running out of steam, just a little, by the time he makes it up to the top of the attic stairs. The bedroom door is closed, and Dipper throws it open, ignoring the way it bangs against the far wall. “Mabel! We have to -”

He stops.

Mabel’s sprawled out across her bed, face-down. It’d almost look like she was just sleeping in, if it weren’t for the fact that Waddles isn’t curled up next to her, and the fact that she’s already dressed in a skirt and purple sweater, and the fact that she’d been at breakfast with the rest of them, and the fact that the one of her feet that’s not dangling off the side of the bed still has a shoe on it, and the fact that her face is in her pillow and Dipper can’t tell if her chest is moving.

He doesn’t scream. He doesn’t have enough air left in his lungs to scream.

“Dipper,” Ford says, sounding surprised, straightening up from where he was bent down removing Mabel’s other shoe. He smiles fondly down at her, reaching down to brush a lock of her long brown hair away from her face, and Dipper sees with a firework-burst of relief that her hair flutters in front of her open mouth in regular time with each breath.

Dipper drags in one huge breath of his own, lets it out, takes another.

He wants to tell Ford all about Wendy, about how far the - whatever this alien creature’s doing - has spread, how much danger they’re all in, wants to ask about how Ford’s research has been going and what he’s learned and whether there’s any hope of saving Wendy and the rest of the town and themselves. But something holds him back.

“What are you doing?” he asks, instead.

“If you’re worried about your sister, don’t be. She’s perfectly fine,” Ford says, still not turning to face Dipper. “This exhaustion is completely natural and expected in the early stages.”

Dipper feels like his feet are growing slowly into the floor. It takes a gargantuan effort to take one slow, shuffling step backwards. “Early - what did you do to Mabel?”

“Exactly what I said I meant to, my boy,” Ford says, like he’s talking about a particularly interesting extradimensional phenomenon he thinks would interest Dipper or about how he thinks he’s finally made all the necessary modifications to the television set to keep it from dropping the signal every single time it snows.

Dipper manages another shuffled half-step backwards, and then can’t move any more. He can’t look away from Mabel, peacefully passed out across her bed, from her shoe discarded on the floor from when Ford had stood up. For that split second when Dipper had walked in, before he’d noticed everything that was wrong with the picture, it had almost looked like their great-uncle was tucking her in.

Ford finally looks up at Dipper, his smile broad and proud and innocent, his eyes blazing unnatural green. “I cured her,” he says, matter-of-fact, and then, “Don’t worry, this won’t hurt a bit. It might itch a little, though.”

Finally, finally, Dipper’s feet seem to dislodge from the floor. He turns to run, but a six-fingered hand wraps around his upper arm, pulling him up short. Dipper spins, lashing out with his free hand, but even though the punch connects with Ford’s chest, it barely seems to faze him. Ford just looks pleased and proud and a little wistful. “Did Stanley teach you how to throw a punch?” he asks, grabbing Dipper’s other wrist. His grip is like steel. “Looks like his style.”

“Let - let go of me!” Dipper yells, kicking frantically out.

It doesn’t make any difference. A cloud of something silvery-green drifts down to settle around his head, something that stings the insides of his nostrils and burns the back of his throat when he takes a sharp breath in. Dipper coughs, trying to hold his breath, but the stinging only spreads.

His limbs are all starting to turn to water. From what seems like an impossible distance, he thinks he hears Ford say, kindly, “Don’t worry. Everything will look better when you wake up.”

Then everything goes black.

#this is mary's fic tag #gravity falls #honestly my every attempt at making straight horror has failed so I'm saying this is Weird Fluff #body horror+family bonding!#so uh this one got a little wildly out of hand #to the tune of 15k #and this is only the first part

132 notes · View notes