#with dipper on the other hand. bill never pretended to be anything but who he was. yes he tricked dipper in sock opera but dipper never once

[xxcyberghostxx]

we really do need to talk more about bill chasing after dipper post-weirdmaggedon. at first because he wants to piss off ford/make him jealous & then later because he actually legitimately starts liking dipper more than he ever liked ford.

[gay-dorito-dust]

wahhhh reading that hurts me 😭 could you please write a part 2 where they all find out that it was bill who possessed reader?

Tag list: @babypeapoddd @i-am-tiredd @sly-thou-pookie @x-seyaa @sweetlumpkinseedlin @kawaii1369 @roo024 @lightmaren

Part 1 right here

‘What?’ Ford asked.

Bill cackled. ‘For someone as smart as you sixer, you sure are stupid as not to notice the obvious signs of whenever I’m possessing someone. I mean out of everyone you should know better.’

Ford clenches his jaw. All this time he had thought you had betrayed him when in actually you had been loyal to him and his family, up until he and his brother ostracised you even more then you already were for the past thirty years. He made you feel like shit, and he could tell that Stanley felt the same amount of guilt as he clenched his fists in silent anger; Ford then levels Bill with a glare. ‘You possessed y/n! My assistant!’ He roared at his once muse.

Bill only chuckles. ‘Correction!WAS your assistant Stanford! And pushed you through the portal whilst wearing the face is someone you cared for,’ Bill then gasps as he looked at the guilt ridden faces of the Pines Family and feeling the joy bubble up in his triangular body, the look of defeat and realisation was all too sweet, ‘Oh wait! Someone you once cared for before throwing them out like they were nothing to you, not once letting them the space to explain what had happened and how I tricked them into making a deal with me.’ He finished by pretending to wipe a tear from his one eye after cackling some more at the hilarity of the situation.

Humans loved to cause more problems within problems they didn’t fully handle properly as they stockpiled on top of each other, giving him the leeway to get what he wants without issue or confrontation from the pathetic family.

Possessing you during a brotherly squabble was perfect! Ford had cut all ties with him and decided to call upon his idiotic brother- as though that would’ve ever worked in any timeline- to help hide his work but when things didn’t go Ford’s way, they fought. You were trying to stop the fight and bill took advantage of that by claiming he could help you stop the fight, fat chance, he was going to make it worse and leave you to be his scapegoat! It was a brilliant plan to make up for multiple set backs thanks to Ford’s sudden realisation of his hermit tendencies, everything was out in place for the ultimate betrayal by the hands of Ford’s assistant; you!

Bill found that Tragedy was at its finest when the betrayal comes from someone you love and it did.

‘They didn’t-‘ Ford began.

‘Say anything?’ Bill interrupts, causing Ford and Stan to glare at him as the demon cackle as he got in close to their shared triangle shaped prison, staring them down with his one eye, unblinking. ‘You and your piece of shit brother over here didn’t even let them speak! Never less believe them when they were telling the truth!’ He roared, ‘and now you don’t know whether they’re even alive so that you can apologise to them!’

Mabel slams against the bars of hers and dippers prison. ‘they’re alive!’ She shouts and Bill now looks at her, amused.

‘How can you be so sure shooting star? For all you know they could be dead, cursing your grunkles names as they die with an unsatisfying end.’ Bill mocked her as she falters in her resolve, he was right, how could she be certain that you were alive when Gravity Falls was literally on fire and demons from another dimension were running amok? She couldn’t and that’s what upset her the most.

‘Because we know our great aunt/uncle better than you bill and we know they’re alive!’ Dipper pips up this time as he laid a reassuring hand on his sister’s shoulder, smiling at her as she smiled back at him in thanks for having her back. Bill looks at the twins, hating their optimism and hope that you were okay and decided to destroy this by reaching into thin air and producing a realistic illusion of your unmoving body before them.

‘Are you so sure now pine tree? They don’t look very much alive to me!’ Bill exclaims as Mabel, Dipper, Stan and Ford could only look up the body that Bill claimed was yours in disbelief and shock. This couldn’t be how it ended, could it? They still had to apologise to you after all for everything and make it up to you however you wished!

‘No, no this is some foul trick of yours bill!’ Ford screamed as he threw himself against the bars, forcing himself not to cry at the sight of your body while seething with rage and a need to avenge your supposed death. ‘You sick son of a bitch!’ Stanley joined in as he felt even more useless than ever, he felt the most guilt out of everyone as his eyes seemed to refused to move from your supposed body. You couldn’t be dead, he refused to believe such bullshit lies, you were still alive and fighting with the rest of them! He knew it, deep down in his heart he knew it to be true!

‘No.’ Mabel cried as she tried to reach out to you as Dipper held her while silently crying himself, vowing to take down bill now more than ever as he tugged his hat down to cover his eyes. You were the most encouraging person he’s ever met and now you were gone, you asked him and Mabel to trust you when contemplating to stay with Stan, and they did believe and they never regretted doing so because you were right! You were always right and yet in the end you died thinking they hated you more than anything; which wasn’t true! Far from it and now…now they can’t make it up to you, they had lost their chance.

Bill had won over the pines family once again.

[simplydozing]

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐏𝐫𝐢𝐜𝐞 𝐎𝐟 𝐕𝐢𝐜𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐲

Stanley Pines x Reader Your husband Stanley sacrifices himself to save everyone from Weirdmageddon, but loses his memory during the process. You try to get him to remember you, but it doesn’t end the way you want it to. Word Count: 1457 || AO3 ⋆.˚✮🎧✮˚.⋆

Here you all stand, in the heavy wooded patch the Mystery Shack was located. The place you called home was now destroyed, bits of debris scattered around you all.

 It was a long, gruesome battle, but you and the townspeople came together and overcame Bill and his plan to take over the world.

 But it came with a price.

 Stan, the once berated and shunned man, switched places with Ford. He gave himself away to save everyone and everything he loved. You begged him not to, that you all could figure something else out. But the back of your mind knew there was no other way.

 And when you saw the memory gun aimed at him, you had to look away.

 When you looked back, he was gone.

 His eyes were so empty when he finally came to.

 He looked around, still on his knees. It was like he never saw this place before. You’ve only seen him this confused once before, and that’s when you said you wanted to be with him more than anything. He never thought he’d ever have someone like you, so hearing this initially stunted him.

 But now, he’ll never remember that. He no longer shares the same memories you do.

 He wasn’t the man you came to know.

“Wha- Where am I?”

 Your hands trembled as they made their way to cover your mouth. Your heart sank, and your whole body became lead. You were a statue, watching his face contort when he stares at these strangers in front of him.

“Who are you all?!” He falls back and scoots away from the group.

 You wanted to be the first to help him, but your feet couldn’t move.

 The twins eased their way to him to not scare him any more than he is now.

“Grunkle Stan…”  Mabel’s little voice cracked.

“You don’t remember us?” Dipper placed a hand on his arm.

 Stan shook his head. What are these kids talking about? What is a “Grunkle?”

 Mable couldn’t take it anymore, and broke down. 

 You were about to do the same. 

 Dipper crawled to her and hugged her tightly, allowing himself to let a few tears slip but keeping his face covered with the brim of his hat.

 Stan’s eyes darted from the kids to you and the person next to you that looked just like him.

 Soon, his gaze focused on you. His eyes grew wider and they shimmered like they did all those years ago when you first started talking to each other.

 He whistles, catcalling you like used to when he would walk in on you changing or making dinner.

“Hey there, sugar. Who’s your friend?”

 Normally, you’d laugh or scoff at his flirty antics, but this time, it brought tears to your eyes. He wasn’t pretending or messing around. This was his reality now. He really was meeting you for the first time.

 You look at Ford. Nothing was said, but it was clear that it was your turn to talk to him.

 You turn back. You wipe the tears out the corners of your eyes. You mentally prepare yourself, huffing to yourself and swallowing thickly. Once you thought you were okay, you slowly made your approach, one foot dragging in front of the other.

 The closer you got, the more he looked pleased.

 You hoped and prayed with each step you took that you’d jog something. Anything.

 You sat in front of him with your knees tucked under you. You swear your heart is going to explode out of your chest.

 He smiles. That goofy grin also used to make you laugh.

 You take a deep breath and anxiously release it.

 He has to remember you.

“Stanley, baby,” you begin.

“Do you know where you are right now?”

“No, but it’s a lot better with you here.” He clicks his tongue and lifts his eyebrows. If this was some sort of sick joke, you’ll slap that nasty smirk clean off his face and go for Ford after.

Your eyes start to pool again.

 Please, let this be a joke.

“Stan, please,” you mutter.

 You’re at a loss at what to do. You don’t want to believe it, but maybe he’s too far gone. Your denial just has to save him. You were his salvation at one point, how could he not remember you?

 You’ve loved him ever since high school when everyone saw him as a lowlife. It didn’t help that your locker was a couple doors down from his.

 He was your lab partner in chemistry. 

 It’s amazing how a lab partner turned into a life partner.

Wait…

 Your marriage! Of course! You are married to him!

 A spark of hope electrocuted through you.

“Stan, look.” You jump into action, grasping his hand with the gold band on his ring finger.

“We’re married! See?” You bring your hand up next to his. Your ring band is thinner than his, with diamonds lining the middle of it.

 Staring at it and seeing how the light catches it makes you think back to that day.

 It was a courthouse wedding. No one else showed up, but you both knew it had to be that way. You didn’t mind at all. When the deed was done and you two were official, he apologized and promised that when the right time comes he’d give you the best wedding you could ever dream of.

 But being with him was already a dream come true.

 A half smile appeared on your face. You didn’t need a wedding to solidify your love for him. You didn’t need the “official” and legal marriage. But he was old fashioned and wanted to do things right by you.

 Too bad he can’t even figure out your name.

“Woah. Today just keeps gettin’ better and better!” He looks from the rings to you.

 Your chest expanded. Could it be? Could he be coming back?

“…Who are you again?”

 These words were the dagger that stabbed and shattered your heart. You physically could no longer hold yourself together.

 You whisper his name one more time. This can’t be how this ends. He’s just messing around with you. There’s no way he doesn’t remember you. You were sure of it. You thought this would work. You knew this had to work. You can’t let go of him. You won’t let go of him. You-

 Your quivering body launches, enveloping him in an embrace that he’ll never feel again.

 You weep.

 Your lover is gone and there’s nothing you can do about it.

“…I love you so much, Stanley Pines,” you can barely make out. Your throat is closing in on itself and your face feels hot.

“What is going on? Was it something I said?” This causes you to hold him closer.

 Eventually, Ford is the one to drag you away. You put up a fight, stringing together a bunch of “no”s before wailing his name at the top of your lungs. You needed to believe that if you held him longer that he’d magically turn back. Ultimately, that wasn’t the case. What’s done is done.

 You scream and cry and beg whatever being was out there to answer your prayers.

 Ford crouches down to your curled up frame and does his best to console you. You’re on your hands and knees, nails digging into the earth as you heave. He throws his arms around you and mumbles apologies you didn’t think you’d hear in the first place.

 “I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry,” fills your ears.

 You feel him around you, breathing catching in his throat and fingers twitching. He’s going into hysterics along with you.

 He lost his brother too, after all.

 The fact that he’s still wearing Stan’s suit…

 You clench his sleeve and pull yourself up, now grabbing the lapels and sobbing in his shoulder. It still smells like him.

 You feel the wetness of Ford’s tears on the side of your face. He palms the back of your head. He rocks you to try and soothe you, resisting the urge to burst for your sake.

“He’s a hero,” he rasps.

 The four of you continued to mourn. Stan is left dumbfounded at the sight of everyone grieving. He thinks he should do something, but he can’t piece together what. He doesn’t want to get involved and accidentally interrupt you all.

 For the rest of the town, it was a day of celebration. For the Pines family, it was a day of loss.

 It was two sides of the same coin, both sides being free from Bill’s reign.

You don’t know what happens next. You just hope you and the rest can work together and one day bring your dearest Stanley’s memories back.

[dbldipper]

mason pines knew the wrath of pacifica northwest was going to come eventually. she had handled this situation with so much composure that it had almost terrified him just as much as this reaction now was. he hadn't seen the shift, but he felt it in her energy the moment she began talking about the journal. and no, no pacifica COULDN'T look in there. yeah, there was... stuff about her in there but, in his defense, he hadn't even noticed who the streamer actually was until he was already balls deep in his investigation. he didn't care she knew he had kept track of her, there was too much information in there not just pertaining to pacifica and her secret streaming identity (which he STILL didn't think was her biggest issue), and there was a reason he kept the book to himself. to protect people, sure, but primarily to protect himself and the web of evermore-driven insanity he had gotten himself into; no one needed to know about that. "no," he replied, strength to his words as he tucked the bag further behind him. he went to speak again but her words cut him off, and his jaw clenched shut as she took a screw driver and twisted the nails that usually sat at its hinges back in place. he sat there, like a brick wall, however each word that came out of her mouth sunk deeper and deeper into his skin and he felt his fists balling at his sides as he struggled to keep his composure. the words of the blonde stopped phasing him a long time ago, or so he claimed, because there was no doubt years worth of tension and competition behind them... and pretending like growing up made those go away was irresponsible of them. yet, here he was, attempting to put that behind them, and here she was; acting like she was twelve and still trapped in her parent's mansion all over again. pacifica northwest and all her big, fat, stupid, secrets that he was getting exhausted trying to keep track of.

her words hurt, of course they did, but the twelve year old kid that still lived in dipper's chest was more than just hurt. he was ANGRY.

"you know what, pacifica-" he went to cut her off but she was walking away, and the other wasn't able to help himself as his fist childishly made harsh contact with the table. fuck him? DISAPPOINT? the brunette was scalding with rage at this point. standing up, with no regard for the patrons in the diner, he stared at the back of her head. there were so many words that wanted to vacate the confines of his throat right now, and he almost felt himself getting choked up on how angry she had gotten at him so fast when he had done NOTHING but try to help her. yeah, maybe threatening her was fucked up, but dipper never asked anything of the other. her families secrets were hurting people, he didn't regret for a second exposing them... and even before he exposed them, he had gone out of his way to try and help her despite how shitty she was to him and his sister. did she forget all the times he sat with her when they were kids and attempted to see her as more than just northwest? friendship with her was like a tennis match, and dipper sucked at sports. did he regret the effect exposing the northwests had on her? of course he did, but she continues to prove she has truly, at her core, done nothing to turn a new leaf. as per usual with her, it was all for show. "maybe it's getting a little exhausting keeping up with all your god damn secrets when you've done nothing but walk all over me and belittle me for ten years! you're not the only one who had a shitty childhood, paz." he threw his hands up and then pressed his fingers through the hair at his scalp, tugging on it before more words came flying from his mouth before he could stop them "god forbid, i make a JOKE about needing your help for once, right? but fine, if it'll make miss princess northwest happy - i'll go fuck myself." fisting into his back pocket for his wallet, his whole body vibrating, he pulled out a couple bills- at least $50 worth- and threw them on the table. his bill was definitely less than $15 but he didn't care- he needed OUT. pacifica always had brought out the uglier side of him, and he didn't know why he cared so much about what she thought of him but evidently, he was still that nosey, obnoxious, useless, weird little kid she had always painted him to be. dipper then grabbed his bag off the seat of the booth, hands trembling, and began to storm out of the diner. only pacifica could get him angry like this, and he never hated a fact more in his entire life. "i don't need any change," he called over his shoulder, a cruel snipe to his words as he slammed his palm against the door- sending it flying open- and storming out before he truly said anything else he'd deeply regret.

however, in his fit of rage and his hurriedness to grab his bag and leave the dinner and her anger-inducing presence, dipper hadn't made sure the zipper was closed, forgetting the journal that had fallen out in the booth he had now just abandoned.

dbldipper​:

dipper immediately regretted confessing the timeline as soon as he said it; “well- yeah but… i didn’t know it was you until like… two weeks ago,” not helping, dipper. NOT. HELPING. he sat back in his booth and sunk a little into the seat, weaving his arms across his chest and huffing. a bit childish of him, maybe, but something about pacifica always found him rooted back in his stubborn, twelve year old self- right now, it was the fact she still called him dipstick alongside the fact that… she was right. “whatever,” he grumbled, trying to find a way to turn this back on her but coming up empty when he sifted through his brain. pacifica was right, and unfortunately, dipper knew that. reality was not something the average person messed with, and whilst dipper had gotten used to sacrificing his reputation- due to it never really mattering to him in the first place- it was challenging for him to fully accept that not everyone he knew was like that. especially not someone like pacifica, who had let the public’s opinion dictate her every move since he first met her over ten years ago. he lifted his face back to hers, sitting up; “hey! what do you mean, mostly me? that was a collective effort,” he defended, but he sunk back down again, rolling his head back to lay against the top edge booth. “look- i get it pacifica, i do. some people care more about what other people think of them than others… you don’t have to explain that to me.” why did it frustrate him that she was still so trapped in the same mindset they were when they were kids. they were stuck in a new town where no one knew anything about them prior… it bothered dipper internally that someone like pacifica felt the need to continue her ruse that she was this untouchable status symbol. she was a social figure in this town, people were going to follow her steps regardless of what decisions she made- she was the trendsetter, and he wasn’t so out of the loop that he didn’t recognize that. he turned his head to look at her, a sheen of sympathy in his eyes, but a youthful stubbornness coating his words. “you’re not changing yourself, pacifica. you’re just hiding. so if that’s what you’re going to do, at least be honest with yourself about it. don’t try and pretend like the person you show everyone else is who you actually are.” he rolled his head back up, staring at the stained ceiling above him . “alright, fine. have it your way- i’ll keep it to myself… but if you’re going to have me keep this a secret, you’re going to have to help me with something.” he delivered a mischievous side eye to her, a grin on his lips; “yeah, pacifica northwest- i went there.”

.

“Two weeks ago?” God, she felt like a broken record but every time he said something, Pacifica was a little more shocked. He’d found her stream months ago, realized it was her weeks ago and was only now trying to hold it over her? It felt like there had to be more going on. Light eyes fell to the journal he had slammed shut and hid in his bag as soon as she walked over here and it clicked. Lifting a hand, she pointed her index finger at said bag and gave him an expectant look. “I’m in that, aren’t I? That’s why you hid it. You have a whole thing on me in there, don’t you?” All his dumb little thoughts and clues - how he somehow put it all together to realize it was her. “Give me that,” she demanded, hand shifting to extend her fingers out with her palm up. “If I’m there, I deserve to know.” It had to do with privacy or something…she was sure her family lawyers would know all the right verbiage - not that she still had access to them or that she was going to sue him or something but still. She rolled her eyes at him claiming it hadn’t been mostly him that found out the Northwest secrets and spread it all over the town to ruin their reputation, sure, Mabel had something to do with it but she had to doubt that she was the driving force behind it. 

There were plenty of things about Dipper that got on Pacifica’s nerves, some more than others, but nothing had to beat his insatiable need to act like he knew fucking everything. Like he had the answers to her problems when he had no idea what he was talking about. “You don’t get it, Dipper. You don’t and stop saying you do. You have no idea what it was like for me growing up. My whole life I had to do what my parents told me or else -” she stopped herself, not wanting to say out loud what had happened to her, reliving it in her dreams was enough. “They might not be here but I feel like every time I do anything they wouldn’t approve of that they’re going to pop up here, just like everyone else, and I’ll be trapped with them again only it’ll be so, so much worse. You think I don’t know that I’ve been hiding? I’ve been hiding my whole fucking life, it’s not exactly easy to shut that off.” She could feel herself getting flushed as her anger grew, his audacity to think it was so simple when it was anything but. And then…then he tried to threaten her. Narrowing light eyes, Paz pushed herself up and snatched his plate from the table as she glared at him, not caring in the least if he was done or not. “Fuck you, Dipper. Go disappoint someone else.” At this point, if he told people, who cared? Clearly not him, and even if she had asked him not to, she hardly thought it would make a difference. Dipper Pines had made it clear a long time ago what he thought of her.

[gfpt-comic]

So. Here goes nothing... (1/?)

(Major spoilers for the comic, but since it won’t update anymore (besides PERHAPS some random comic strips/excerpts without context every now and then, but don’t count on it), I guess it doesn’t matter.)

If you read my answer to the ask posted earlier, you probably know what this post is about. I’ll make a list of every important point I wanted to tackle in the comic, in multiple sections. Be prepared for the long post that awaits you below the cut.

Summary of what was left of Chapter 2

Following their first appearance at the beginning of the chapter, Lolph and Dundgren try to question Blendin, who is staying at a hospital and is still under intense care. They discuss what exactly happened to Blendin in the first place: he was assigned what was supposed to be a routine mission to solve a minor time anomaly in the 21st century, but his time machine exploded when he tried to operate it and he was gravely injured. Dundgren mentions that any normal time device should hardly cause this much damage when malfunctioning, suggesting that Blendin’s level of incompetence is so incredibly high, it somehow managed to make something that shouldn’t be able to explode blow up in his face. On the other hand, Lolph starts to wonder if, exactly because it should be impossible, the accident may have had a reason other than just Blendin’s incompetence. Unfortunately, the accident had consequences so grave on Blendin’s physical health, it seemingly also took a toll on his sanity and questioning him only leaves them with esoteric sentences of dubious credibility.

Blendin: “This is very nice of you… to visit me. There isn’t much time left. I was starting to feel alone, before everything disappears.” Blendin: “Time Baby will succeed… He will free us from this time.”

July 13, 2012 again: back in the gift shop of the Mystery Shack, Wendy and Soos have captured Bill and tied him up to a chair. Wendy starts interrogating him, asking him who or what he is-- throwing in her multiple guesses: the Shapeshifter she defeated with Dipper in the bunker, a paper clone... She doesn’t suspect demon possession or a switch-because-of-the-carpet scenario, however. Bill just keeps trying to break free with little success, without answering; and soon, Stan interrupts them when he enters the gift shop as well, followed by the dozen of tourists he took during his latest tour. Wendy and Soos manage to evade Stan’s obvious questions by pretending they were making a new attraction.

Back in Mabel’s Dreamscape, Mabel encourages Dipper to have some fun with Bill’s powers, but he is scared of messing up because of just how powerful he is; having seen Bill’s powers both in the Mindscape/Dreamscape and in Weirdmageddon when he witnessed the alternate timelines, Dipper knows just how far those powers can go and he isn’t sure he can control them. Still, after some teasing Mabel starts a snowball fight with the surrounding ice cream, and gradually the twins have more and more fun starting with the ice cream, then with the tricks Dipper starts to use. When they take a break, Mabel points out that nothing bad happened, and Dipper grows a bit more confident that he can use Bill’s powers in a way that isn’t dangerous.

Dipper: “I guess it’s easy to do exactly what you want when it literally happens in your mind... Huh.”

Dipper notices it’s almost noon, and Mabel remembers that she was supposed to meet William at Greasy’s Diner for lunch. Mabel is unseasy upon thinking of talking to him again after what happened the day before, and Dipper confirms by showing William’s current whereabouts through a peephole that William seems about as worried as she is. Mabel takes a deep breath, makes sure that she will be able to see Dipper whenever she needs (during the night for sure, perhaps earlier if she asks for it). Still, just before Dipper wakes her up... She has a favor to ask him.

Mabel: “Now that you can do lots of magic stuff and all... Could you do something for me?”

Back in the gift shop, the tourists have left and Bill was untied due to Stan’s confusion over the situation. However, he is forced to stay inside and is stuck sitting by Wendy’s side behind the cashier desk. When Mabel goes through the gift shop to go to the Diner, everyone notices that she made a new sweater -- one with a pine tree symbol on it, no less. Bill is enraged but can’t stop her from leaving.

William has his first face reveal. He is a blonde 13-year-old, and is already waiting worriedly at Greasy’s Diner when Mabel arrives. He immediately apologizes for what happened on the day before.

William: “About yesterday, I... I’m sorry I said your brother was a bad influence. That was uncalled for.”

Mabel: “Yes. Yes it was.”

William is genuinely apologetic, but soon it is revealed that the reason why he thought Dipper and the Mystery Shack were a bad influence was because he doesn’t believe at all in the supernatural. Even if Mabel told him about her adventures, he assumed they were just stories she made up while playing in the Mystery Shack’s museum and never believed them to be true. Mabel tries to convince him by showing him some episodes of Dipper’s “Guide to the Unexplained” -- a series of videos he used to make and post online at the beginning of their summer break upon arriving in Gravity Falls, but stopped making altogether after Summerween. Sadly, the episodes made up until then did not revolve around exceptionally weird anomalies, and aren’t enough to convince William. The only thing William admits to being strange is the fact that every inhabitant of Gravity Falls is “out of their minds.”

Exasperated by William’s absurdly high levels of skepticism, Mabel eventually dares him to go on a forest expedition with her, Candy and Grenda on the next day, just so they can show him pretty much anything in the forest that is out of the ordinary. William strongly refuses and tries to dissuade her to go into the forest at all; he has been personally forbidden by his mother from going anywhere near the forest, and he has also read on the local news that there is currently a predator of unknown origin or species on the loose, which has been notably attacking sheep from the nearby farm. Mabel teases him about the fact that he believes that this creature is real, and suggests that it might be a werewolf for example; but William doesn’t take her seriously, especially because the creature is supposed to fly.

And... This is the part where my script starts getting wonky. I’ve been trying to fill the holes, but sadly it’s proven to be quite difficult, especially now that I know I won’t be drawing it in comic form anyway. Still, the main plot should be precise enough! The holes are mainly just “there should be some filler and/or foreshadowing to what’s coming here”, with little more than just prompts for what could be happening.

Back in the Mystery Shack’s gift shop, Wendy tries to sneakily question Bill, but when Stan asks them where Mabel went and Bill tells him she skipped her restocking duty so she could spend time with William at the Diner, Stan asks him to get her back. Bill happily takes this opportunity to slip out of the Mystery Shack, and have an excuse to bother Mabel at the same time.

Eventually, William is obligated to accept Mabel’s terms and intends on coming so he can at least make sure that the girls won’t put themselves in danger upon visiting the forest on their own.

Bill arrives at the Diner. William, thinking he is meeting Dipper again, tries to make amends for the things he said the previous day and says that he earnestly thinks they can start again on the right foot; Bill sadistically mocks him instead, all the while pretending to be Dipper, just so he can ruin Mabel’s hopes of reconciling William and Dipper. Bill finishes Mabel by forcing her to leave, saying that Stan expects her to work at the gift shop like she was supposed to since the beginning.

Mabel gone, William and Bill start to have a tense conversation; well, tense on William’s part, while Bill is mostly just having a blast driving William mad. The old fanfic that was the first “draft” version of the story has this chapter, which gathers most of the jokes I intended to keep, and at least some of the plot points. I’ll put a warning for awkward English, though. Oh and also, apparently in the old version it was July 3rd and not July 13th, so in the comic the “tomorrow is July 4th so the forest trip can’t happen anyway” excuse wouldn’t work.

About the Quetzalcoatlus thing: here, have some fun dinosaur size comparisons & history following my latest research on what the pterodactyl from S1E18: Land Before Swine.

William: “And how would you even know all that?”

Bill: “Because I ate Leonardo da Vinci.”

William: “. . .”

William: “… It must have been some VERY cryptic way for you to say that it was one of those conspiracy things mentioned in the old book supposedly written by a genius that you keep reading passionately every day. Right?”

Bill: “Oh, so your brain CAN work sometimes!”

Bill gets bit by a soothquito. His bite marks spell “FHOASE CORECULLY“

Upon leaving the Diner, they both see someone being kidnapped by a member of the Blindeye Society. William insists they immediately go warn the police, but Blubs and Durland prove to be ineffective as ever. Bill slips in one or two facts about the secret society, but William dismisses them completely as other random insane things Bill just happens to say all the time for trolling purposes.

Mabel is back in the Mystery Shack and starts her restocking duty, but her mind is clearly elsewhere. She starts mumbling to herself, but is interrupted by the decapitated head of Larry King who just happened to be in the vents nearby. Mabel isn’t surprised at all to see he survived, and when Larry King starts "interviewing” her about the issues she was mumbling about, she complies. Some time later, while Soos is cleaning up the floor, he overhears Mabel complaining about Bill being a jerk on purpose and making Dipper seem like a terrible person, and ends up hearing pretty much the whole story that way, without Mabel knowing. Soos proceeds to tell Wendy what he heard, helping them putting two and two together-- all the while understanding why Mabel didn’t warn them, and why they should stay silent as well. They decide not to tell Mabel they know her secret; but when Bill comes back later, just as Wendy’s shift was about to end, she has just one thing to tell him:

Wendy: “Tomorrow 6PM. My place.”

Night time; Bill is annoyed, but not very surprised by the fact that Soos is sleeping with him  for the night, in the room on the ground floor where Dipper had relocated. Bill is at least glad he no longer has to pretend to be Dipper around Wendy and him.

Soos proceeds to ask Bill what his intentions were; not just in the present times now that the switch occurred, but also before it.

Soos: “So you really are that triangle guy from two weeks ago?”

Soos: “Now that I'm thinking about it… A lot of things happened two weeks ago. That's when it began to get all wrong. Well, it was already wrong before that, but… That's really when you came that everything started to get all weird and… bad.“

Soos: “It all started because of that Summerween night. What did you want with us?”

Soos: “Why did you tell Dipper that Gideon summoned you?”

Bill: “It was just a job. Jobs are boring. There’s no fun in it if nobody’s trying to stop you.”

Bill: “Oh, and you wanna know the best part? If you’d taken Shooting Star along with you instead of going just the two of you, perhaps you would’ve had an opportunity to beat me.”

Soos: What did you do with Gideon two weeks ago? Dipper and I knew it wasn’t a coincidence that those government guys showed up just the next day. 

Bill: “Something that neither Pine Tree nor I want anybody to find out, I bet. Also if I were to tell you, you'd either faint or spend the next fourteen hours trying to explain it all to Red. Funny, but not worth it.”

Soos is disturbed by Bill’s attitude, because of course he tries to both troll and traumatize at once, and given how Soos was already terrified of Bill because of the Summerween night (”I’ve had nightmares for weeks!” from an earlier comic page), it doesn’t help. Soos tries to ask Bill about the deal he made with Gideon -- more specifically, he asks what Bill wanted in return for stealing the code from Stan’s mind. However, Bill doesn’t answer and instead opens the bedroom door to reveal that Mabel was trying to eavesdrop.

Mabel was mostly there to make sure that everything was alright, and deduces that Bill hadn't slept at all during the first night and that he intends to never sleep at all, even after she tells him that humans need sleep to survive. Thankfully she came prepared with a “surprise gift from Candy and Grenda”, and sprays Bill with Fairy Dust.

Mabel: “There’s probably enough in that bag to knock out a gremloblin in an instant, so I think he’s good for the night. :p”

Once Bill is asleep, Dipper takes this chance to come to his Dreamscape and talk to him one-on-one; and, he is not happy at how Bill treated Mabel so far. Still, after a certain point the conversation gets to a more pressing topic.

Bill: “You saw it happen, didn’t you?”

Bill: “Weirdmageddon. You saw it, right?”

Dipper: “. . .”

Bill: “Oh-ho, even better! There’s a timeline in which YOU make it happen, isn’t there?”

Dipper: “That’s not gonna happen.”

Bill: “Look kid, take it from me. The more you try to actively prevent a specific outcome, the more likely you usually make it happen.”

Dipper: “You can’t make something happen if you specifically stop everything that can lead to it from happening first.”

Dipper: “Even if it includes lying to Mabel…  I saw it. If she learns there’s a way to get me a physical form, she’ll try anything to make it happen and disregard the consequences. I bet she trusts me to keep things under control, but everything else? There’s just... There’s too many variables. We can’t let her know anything about the portal. Or Weirdmageddon.”

Bill: “Well, that doesn’t change anything from my original plan anyway.”

Bill: “So you’re just gonna stay in the Nightmare Realm forever, is that it?”

Dipper: “That’s not much of a plan so far, but that’s still an effective way to save the world.”

Bill: “Don’t mess with me. You DO know that if you don’t make your way to another dimension eventually, you’re just going to die, right?”

Dipper: “... W-what are you talking about?”

Bill: “Wait. You REALLY didn’t figure that out yet?”

Bill: “The Nightmare Realm is unstable. It’s just gonna collapse one of these days, destroy everything in it. Could be in a billion years. Could be tomorrow.”

After leaving Bill’s Dreamscape, Dipper decides to visit Wendy’s and tell her everything. He confirms her doubts, tells her the whole story with the carpet... And he tells her about Weirdmageddon and what Bill just told him about the Nightmare Realm.

Dipper: “I mean, it’s better this way for everyone, and of course I’m not gonna go with Bill’s original plan to destroy the laws of physics or whatever, but… I-I just don’t wanna die, you know?”

Wendy: “Don’t worry. We’ll find a way.”

> Summary of chapters 3 and 4

[nataliedanovelist]

GF - How A Star Is Born ch.IX

Hercules AU, founded by @evaroze, whom this fic is a gift for. I hope y’all like it!

ch.VIII - ch.X

AO3 link

~~~~~~~~~~

Mabel never thought the day would come when Grunkle Ford would ask her to go down to Earth. Sure, she was allowed to go visit as long as she was hidden and back at Olympus at a certain time, but she never thought she would be standing before her father-figure and be asked to specifically go down to Earth, but here she was.

“I… I want you to check on Stanley.” Grunkle Ford asked solemnly. “And Mason, too, for that matter. See if they’re alright.”

“Um… okay.” Mabel was a bit unsure if she dared believe his instructions. “You want me to go down there and pay them a visit?”

“No.” Grunkle Ford said. “I’m sorry, but no. I want to project yourself onto the art of Thebes and see if they’re alright. Bill says Stanley isn’t… with him, but he is very busy thanks to a small war in the Middle East. Do not make yourself known, simply see if they’re both okay.”

Mabel smiled slyly at him. “You want me to spy on our mortal family members?”

Grunkle Ford sighed and nodded. “Yes.”

“YES!” Mabel cheered and punched the air. “Finally, a chance to use my sneaky peaky spy skills!” And she ran out of the temple, tripping and breaking a vase along the way.

And so Mabel went down to Earth, traveling from statue to statue, painting to painting, floor art to floor art, all throughout Thebes. She had never been to the Big Olive and was excited to see the new place and to find Dipper and Stan’s home.

It was well into the night at this point. The stars twinkled and the night air was warm and soothing. Mabel thought he heard a familiar voice filled with laughter, and she looked down the street and grinned widely from the stem of a birdbath. She was ecstatic to see her brother on a date with a beautiful young lady; she decided to follow them and listen carefully. This was also good reassurance that Stan was okay; Dipper wouldn’t have left his side otherwise.

“Wow, what a day.” Dipper sighed. “Dinner by the ocean, that play… oh boy, I thought I had problems.”

Pacifica and Dipper both laughed, but one was having to force it more than the other. Slowly, steadily, Pacifica could feel herself becoming distracted. She had to focus. Her freedom was on the line. Still, as much of a nerd Wonderboy may be, able to tell the measurement of an item by glancing at it and solve impossible equations in his head in a second, he was actually a really nice guy. Getting tired of pretending, she decided to try a bit harder to find Dipper’s weakness so this whole thing could end.

Walking down some steps, Pacifica faked a trip at the last step. Dipper caught her swiftly and Pacifica winced. “Ugh, I think I stepped funny, landed on my ankle wrong.”

“Ouch,” Dipper sympathized. While he may have super god-like strength, that didn’t mean he never twisted an ankle or bent a wrist wrong, a small pain but no damage or hardly an injury. “Here, we can sit for a sec.” And he scooped her up gently and carried her to sit on the edge of a giant water fountain, the same water fountain Mabel was projecting herself into the heart of the small wall, eagerly hoping her twin would at least get a kiss.

“Oh. Thanks.” Pacifica was a bit taken back by his extra effort in manners, but quickly reminded herself that with strength like his picking up a girl was nothing. So she moved on with her plan. “So, do you have any issues with weak ankles?”

“Hm? Oh. No, not really.” Dipper chuckled.

Pacifica giggled alongside him and sat closer. “Really? No trick knee?” She asked slyly. “No bad shoulder?”

Dipper was blushing heavily, a bit uncomfortable with the praise and trying to remain humble as he gave an honest answer. “No, I’m… I’m pretty healthy…” And his smile dropped at remembering that the same couldn’t be said for Stan.

Pacifica rolled her eyes, ready to give up on her quest. Bill would just have to find some other way to kill him. She then noticed how down Dipper appeared, much more so than he had been all night, and before she realized what she was doing, she asked, “Hey, you okay?” Pacifica instantly bit her lip. Why did she say that? And why did she actually care?

Dipper looked at her with heavy eyes and sighed tiredly. “It’s Stan. He’s… He’s not well.”

Pacifica softened a little. “Oh. I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay.” Dipper looked up at the stars to make it easier to talk. “It’s just… he… I dunno. I was raised in an orphanage until I was twelve and went looking for him. Stan’s looked after me ever since, and… and he feels like family. I’ve never had one, and… it sometimes feels like he’s all I got.” Dipper was being very careful not to talk about the fact that he had a family waiting for him, but after only talking to Mabel here and there for so long, having never met them in the flesh or been at home, it sometimes felt like Stan was truly the only one there for him.

Pacifica scoffed and stood up to make some distance. “Family isn’t that great.”

Dipper blinked and stood to follow her down the street. “What do you mean?”

“I dunno, people just make such a big deal over families or whatever.” Pacifica complained. “It’s not all it’s cracked up to be. They’re just a bunch of people who would turn their backs on you just as quickly as anyone else.”

Dipper was a bit taken back by the harshness of her tone, but he shook it off to try to comfort someone who was clearly hurt. “That’s not true. Some families, sure, maybe. But not all families are like that.”

Pacifica gave him a sharp look. “How would you know?”

Dipper was a bit hurt by that, but it only made him more determined to change her mind. He took her hand as they were at the doorstep of his home, and he said firmly, “My family might be really small, and kinda broken, but it’s still an amazing family. We look after each other. We care for one another. And… And you could be a part of that.” Dipper bit his lip. Why did he say that? And why did he actually mean it?

It was Pacifica’s turn to be dumbstruck. She shook her clear to try to clear it and said, “I gotta go. Goodnight, hero.” And she kissed his hand, let go, and hurried down the street.

Dipper’s mouth was open so wide a fly nearly threw in, but luckily he coughed it out before he accidentally swallowed it. He brought his lucky hand up shakingly to smile at it, swearing he would never use it for anything ever again. Okay, maybe for one thing.

Mabel, meanwhile, knew that Pacifica liked Dipper and hurried after her, ready to perform a musical number to convince her to admit it and follow her heart and say she was in love, but as Pacifica hurried into the outdoor museum full of art, Mabel felt a chill go down her spine. She stopped at a brick wall-art of the sun and hid herself behind a bush, remembering her grunkle’s orders to stay hidden, just in case.

A small pyramid glowed yellow and with a small poof the triangle with a black toga appeared, smiling (as much as one can without a mouth) at Pacifica. Mabel stared, a little confused; this must be Grunkle Ford’s friend, the one Uncle Fiddleford didn’t seem to like very much. Instantly she could understand why Uncle Fiddleford didn’t like him, but so far Bill hasn’t done anything to learn Mabel’s dislike, so she kept an open-mind and listened.

“Hey-o, Llama, so whatcha got?”

“Nothing.” Pacifica said coldly, her arms crossed.

“Nothing?” Bill repeated.

“Nothing. No weak spot, no bad nerves, no tricks. Nothing. He has no weaknesses.”

Bill growled in his throat, floating back and forth in a pacing kind of way, his black hands behind his back. “No! Everybody’s got a weakness! We just gotta find it!” The demon stopped as he looked at a statue of a couple in love. “Maybe… Ugh, if only Sixer wasn’t so overprotective of Shooting Star. We could use her as bait.”

Pacifica snorted. “Yeah, good luck getting your hands on her.”

“But maybe…” Bill held his… well, he doesn’t have a chin, but he did put a hand to the front of his body in that type of manner. “... there’s someone we can get our hands on.”

“What?” Pacifica asked, not seeming bored for the first time in this entire conversation. “You mean Stan? I guess… Dipper did say he was like family.”

Bill cackled. “Oh, if only he knew.” The triangle gasped and punched his hand with the side of his fist in thought. “Hey! We can use that! Great work, Blondie. Now c’mon, we got a whole galaxy to conquer!” And he swooped himself and Pacifica away in a burst of blue fire.

Mabel had both hands over her mouth to keep herself quiet. She had so many questions and was confused on a few things, but she did know this: Bill wanted to hurt Dipper. Bill wanted to take over the galaxy. And he was lying to Grunkle Ford.

Without another thought, Mabel dashed as fast as she could for home. She accidentally gave herself such bad tunnel vision out of fear and desperation that she didn’t hesitate until she was at the entrance of her shared temple with her great-uncle. The young lady peered his office to find him hunched over his work, finding it hard to concentrate with the fate of his brother on his mind. Mabel didn’t know much about Bill, despite being a fellow god, but she did know that Ford considered him a friend, so this would be difficult news to deliver.

Mabel gently knocked on the column beside her to alert her guardian of her entrance. He turned and smiled genuinely at her. “Mabel, I’m happy to see you’re home safe. How… How is Stanley?”

Mabel winced; she had completely forgotten to check on her long-distance uncle in the excitement of her brother’s date and the harsh discovery. “Grunkle Ford, I need to tell you something.”

Immediately Ford feared the worst. It was too late. He would never see Stan again, and it was all his fault. Mabel sat on the desk and took his six-fingered hands. He bit his lip and braced himself as Mabel looked down, trying to find her words. After a moment or two that nearly killed the immortal god, the young muse asked carefully, “Bill… Is he your friend?”

Ford felt the wind being kicked out of him from the shock. He could have cried, he was so relieved, but instead he laughed and nodded. “Yes! Yes, my dear, Bill is an old friend of mine. If it wasn’t for him, the world would still be in complete chaos. My leadership position, and really the existence of you and your brother, is all thanks to him. He helped me save the world.” He praised.

Mabel looked even more nervous; Ford had hoped that this answer would assure any worry she had, but clearly this wasn’t the case. Before the god could ask what was wrong, the muse said quietly, “I think he only helped you save it so he could have it someday.”

Ford blinked like a confused owl at her. “What… What are you talking about?”

“I… I think… no, I’m sure that…”

“STANFOOOOOOOOORD!”

Mabel and Ford turned to the direction of the call and ran for the exit of their temple. They watched Fiddleford use his super speed to dash to them, pale and stuttering with fear. “HONEY FOGELIN’, SALT-LICKIN’ SKULLDUGGERY! OH, WE’RE IN TROUBLE! OH!”

“Fiddleford, buddy, calm down.” Ford gripped him by the shoulders to give him a chance to breathe and adjust his small glasses. “What’s the matter?”

“We’ve got an army o’ monsters that are practically at our gates!” Fiddleford informed. “There’s only a few minutes until Olympus is overrun!”

“What?! Alert the other gods! Prepare for a counter attack! Go, go!”

“Gone, babe.” Fiddleford said sarcastically with a roll of his eyes and ran as fast as possible as he blew his trumpet loudly throughout Olympus.

“Mabel, sweetie, I want you to go keep an eye on your brother.”

“But…”

Ford whistled loudly and the giant goat, Gompers, came trotting toward. Ford lifted her like a child and ignored her kicking and squirming. “Grunkle Ford!”

“I’m not asking!” Ford growled and gave her a firm look. “I can’t lose you! I just can’t! Now I’m ordering you to go check on M-... on Dipper. Now go!” And he smacked Gompers to make him gallop off the mountain and down to the mortal world.

~~~~~~~~~~

Just a few minutes after Dipper arrived back home, thinking about his amazing date with Pacifica, he decided to check on Stan. After making sure he was nowhere else in the luxurious house, Dipper gently knocked on his teacher’s bedroom door. “Stan? You okay?”

Praying the old man was at least wearing a toga, he carefully opened the door, but was a little surprised to find the bed empty. After a quick look around the lavish bedroom, Dipper concluded that Stan wasn’t here. He closed the door and turned away, wondering if Stan had gone outside for some fresh air, but was suddenly greeted by a high-pitched laughter and the lit torches made of stone were now blue. Dipper looked all over and was startled to find a huge golden triangle with one eye staring at him.

“Hey there, kid, name’s Bill, big guy of the Underworld, nice to meet you.” Bill said, a smooth-fast talker like a chariot salesman.

“Uh, hi.” Dipper greeted with a small, hesitant wave. There was no way the Ruler of the Underworld, the most mysterious god of them all, would be paying him a visit unless it was important or he wanted something.

“So, listen, Pinetree,” Bill said, wrapping an arm around his shoulders and floating alongside him, walking like they were old friends catching up. “I’m an old friend of your great-uncle, Stanford. He’s a fun guy, great god, you’re a lot like him, you know that? Anyway, so, as a friend of the family, I need a favor from you.”

Dipper wasn’t sure what to make of this. This was his first time meeting a god apart from Mabel, and now to be needed by one was a bit confusing. Why now? Was it possible he was on his way to becoming a true hero? Was he almost a god again? Was this a test? He smiled nervously and shrugged. “Uh, sure, what do you need?”

“Oh, boy, look at this guy! A real trooper he is! You’re alright, Sixer Jr!” Bill laughed and clapped his shoulder. “Now, I would be eternally grateful if you took a day off from this hero gig. I mean, c’mon, monsters, natural disasters…”

All hope that this visit was a good thing died. Dipper scowled and shook his head, shoving Bill’s hand off his shoulder. There was one reason and one reason only someone would want him to stop being a hero, even if it was only for a short time. “No way��”

“Not so fast,” Bill said coolly and he locked his own fingers cunningly. “Cuz I have something that might change your mind.” And he snapped his fingers.

Out of thin air an old man appeared in chains, on his knees. “Stan!” Dipper gasped.

“Dipper, what the h-...” And more chains covered his mouth.

Dipper ran for his teacher but Stan was gone before the young hero could help. “Let him go!” He dove for Bill, but only fell through him, like the demon was made of mist.

“Here’s the deal: you give up your strength for the next twenty-four hours,” And Bill snapped his fingers again and Stan reappeared, gagged and trapped. “And Knucklehead here is as free as a bird and safe, we dance, we kiss, we schmooze, we go home happy. Whatcha say, c’mon?”

Dipper stared at Stan, who was shaking his head. The young man looked away and then back at Bill. “People are gonna get hurt, aren’t they?”

“Nah,” Bill dragged, flicking his wrists downward and then instantly shrugging with his hands behind his back. “I mean, maybe, there’s a possibility, it happens cuz, y’know, life sucks. So what?” The triangle joined Stan and cupped his face teasingly. “Isn’t your great uncle more important than they are?”

Dipper opened his mouth to order him to stop, but his jaw fell and his voice was stolen from him. Bill smiled excitingly and asked, “Oo, struck a nerve, did I?” He laughed maliciously. “You seriously didn’t know he’s Sixer’s brother?! Oh, man! This is sad! Ever wondered why he had a grudge against Fordsie? Ever wondered why he even gave a worthless orphan the time of day to begin with? It’s cuz he only barely cared cuz you’re blood. Duh.”

“You’re lying.” Dipper said firmly. “Stan, he’s making it up, isn’t he?” He begged, his brown eyes on Stan, the same eyes that matched his own. “Because… you would have told me if it’s true… wouldn’t you?”

Stan looked away.

“Daw, don’t blame him, kid. It’s not his fault you didn’t inherit Mr. Lightning Bolt’s brains. Now, c’mon, you really wanna lose another pwecious famwy member?”

“OKAY!” Dipper yelled to get Bill to fall silent. There was a moment of pause and Stan stared at his nephew. “Okay… okay… But you gotta swear Stan won’t get hurt.”

“Fine, whatever. Stan won’t get hurt.” Bill said and walked towards the birthmarked hero, leaving Stan alone for a moment. “Otherwise you’ll get your strength right back, fine print, blah blah blah. It’s a deal?” And he held out a hand encased in blue fire.

Dipper hesitated, looking down at it, and that made Bill a little irritated, a dangerous game to play. Bill withdrew his hand. “Y’know I really don’t have time to bat this around, I got places to be, people to see, I need an answer, like, now. Going once, going twice…”

"It's a deal!" And Dipper ceased Bill's hand.

At once, the demon's thumb sharpened, cutting into Dipper's hand and seemed to be sucking the strength out of him. The young man sagged and Stan fought harder than ever to break free, but it was too late. Bill let Dipper go and he fell to his knees like a puppet with his strings cut off. One could say Dipper should have made sure he agreed to only give away his "god-like" strength, rather simply "strength," for this loophole left Dipper far weaker than any man, arguably weaker than an infant.

Bill cackled as he held his three-sided body and wiggled his legs in joy. "Thanks for the favor, Pinetree! Now if you'll excuse me, there's an entire cosmos out there with my name on it! Oh! Right, can't forget." Bill snapped his fingers and Stan was set free from his chains. "The guy ashamed to be your family is all yours, hero."

He instantly ran to Dipper's hunched-over body and rubbed his back. "Easy, buddy boy, I got you. It's okay."

Dipper swatted his hands away and groaned from the effort. "Stan… why… why didn't you say…"

Stan was hurt, but pushed it aside to focus on how hurt his nephew was. He rubbed the back of his neck. "I… I wanted to. Believe me, kid, I wanted to, but… I couldn't."

"Oh, and one more thing. Lil'Llama, thanks for the info." Bill sneered, curling a finger from the shadows to himself, and his slave emerged with her head down in shame. "A deal's a deal, you're free to go."

Dipper stared, heartbroken more so than ever. "Pacifica?"

"Hey, that's the blonde damsel from the river." Stan growled. "Tramp. C'mon, Dipper, let's get you to…"

"Don't." Dipper snapped as he steadily got to his own feet. "I… I can take care of myself…"

Stan withdrew his hand and took a step back, letting Dipper hold himself up by leaning on a column, catching his breath. The proud uncle bit his lip and was distracted from his misery and shame when a big bang could be heard outside.

He stood outside his home and his mouth was open as the sky was an unnatural sea of colors and the ocean was raging with waves that seemed to make everything it touched weird. Bushes were coming to life and eating ghosts. Old women were being turned into furniture. Men were going delusional and eating their togas. Stan cringed at the weirdness, and it only got worse when some big goblin-looking monster with Eight Ball eyes was bringing havoc to Thebes.

~~~~~~~~~~

The planets aligning created a weak spot in the dimension, and in the depths of the sea, Bill peered down and could practically see his old minions in the Nightmare Realm. “My friends!” He called, pointing a finger at the weak spot and tearing a whole in space-time. “We finally have a new home, boys! But one guy stands in our way. An obnoxious poindexter with six fingers. So, since I’ve given you guys a stable home, whatcha gonna do about it?”

“DESTROY HIM!”

“Good answer.”

And so, when Fiddleford was disturbed from his nightly slumber on a low cloud outside of Olympus, he screamed and ran as fast as he could to alter his friend and the leader of the gods. Huge monsters scaled the mountain. Flying eyeballs flew like bats and screeched, turning fighting gods into stone and flying them away.

With Mabel gone and no longer terrified for her safety, Ford stood on a tall cloud just inside the gates of his home and shot down bolts of lightning with his golden crossbow. The monsters were sturdy, and while the attacks did slow them down, the battle was not looking good for the gods. Ford caught his breath and was very disturbed when a giant gray-blue loaf of bread with arms and legs but no face broke down the gates.

“What’s our status?!” Ford asked his best friend.

“Everyone’s bein’ turned t’stone!” Fiddleford yelled as an eyebat shined a beam down at him. “Even me!”

“NO!” Ford threw his last bolt at the eyebat, but it swerved out of the way and scooped up Fiddleford’s frozen body.

Ford looked left and right, waiting for an idea to come to him, but he was too clouded with anxiety and worry that he failed to notice the huge, now three-dimensional demon behind him. “Fordsie, I’m home.” A shrill voice sang.

“Bill?” Ford breathed, his eyes narrowing in anger and he shook with rage. He should have listened to Mabel and knew he was behind this. He growled like an angry bulldog and tried to throw a punch, but with a lift of a finger Bill had total control over Ford’s body and made him float lifelessly in front of him.

“Well well, looks like you truly are as dumb as you look. Tell me, did you really think such a powerful being would ever be friends with a six-fingered monster?” Bill laughed evilly and moved two arms close, creating lava and ice to work together to encase Ford in a stony prison. “This dimension is mine, Sixer, and it’s all thanks to you.” He said as Ford climbed and crawled to try to escape, but was steadily being encased, like quicksand. “Now all I need to do is make sure those brats stay out of my way.”

“NO! NO!” Ford screamed. “NOT MY KIDS, YOU CA-...” And he was completely covered.

“I’m the one giving orders now, Freak.” Bill sneered and sat in his new throne the eyebats had made for him, made entirely out of gods and goddesses. “And I think I’m gonna like it here.”

[krisseycrystal]

rated: t

fandom: Gravity Falls

prompt: “Locked in a Freezer” + Stan & Dipper (& Ford)

requested by: @trashgoblinonyourporch

SO MY AMAZING FRIEND PAX SENT ME AN EXCELLENT CHALLENGE because i have never written a Gravity Falls fic before, w/ my choice of Stan, Dipper, or Ford locked in a freezer and I like to challenge hurt myself even further so i picked Stan & Dipper and had Ford cameo at the end

it’s a Time

hope you enjoy! if you want more angst, feel free to request something! i still have four prompts available on this bad boi alsdkjflkjsf

- o - o - o -

Gelid [Read on AO3]

- o - o - o -

“HEY!”

Maybe the first thing Stan should have felt when the thick door swung shut at their backs was panic. Maybe stupidity--he knew that ugly bastard with the toothpick between his teeth was lyin’ when he denied that there were ghosts in his quote-unquote “historic” bar; he knew it--but instead, all Stan can feel is a ravaging, crater-deep guilt. 

“Grunkle Stan?”

It was his idea to invite the twins along on this summer trip to the East Coast. It was him who first said, hey, whaddya know, we’re passin’ through their part’a town, Ford. Whaddya say? Let’s pick up the kiddos, have ‘em stuff their duffels in the back and let ‘em tag along on our haunted haunts tour ‘long the New England coast. They’re probably all goofs, anyway. What’s the harm?

This bar.

With its fucking deep-ass freezer.

That’s the harm.

After frantically pulling on the long handlebar once, twice, then heaving as hard as he could and throwing his shoulder into the door, Stan finally steps back and wraps his arms around himself. His faux-gold rings with their cubic zirconia catches on the cloth of his sleeves as he vigorously rubs his forearms. “Kid, do you wear anything else other than those dumb shorts and tee-shirt?”

Dipper’s already mimicking him, smart kid, but his teeth are chattering. Not a good sign. “It’s not like I have access to my bag right now to change! If I’d known some ghost was gonna lock us in a freezer, then I’d have worn something a little warmer!”

Stan rolls his eyes. “Got that fancy new cell of yours, don’tcha? Just call your sister!”

Dipper’s eyes light up. Had he forgotten he had it? Go figure. Shermi’s daughter had been so hesitant to give the twins cells, but after they turned thirteen, well…he’s sure Dipper and Mabel worked their own case pretty hard. It certainly paid off. It’s going to pay off.

It has to.

It only takes a few seconds tapping on the screen with shaking fingers to make Dipper’s face fall. “No service.”

“What? Let me see that.”

Dipper doesn’t fight when Stan swipes the dinky device out of his hand. But he does watch, unimpressed, tiny hands rubbing his arms, as Stan pretends to recognize what the hell it is he’s looking at on the screen. Fuckin’ tiny-ass white blobs. What do those things mean? Is that a percentage? Is 35 good or bad?

He tosses it back, grumbling. They need to get out. Fast. What’s the first thing to get frostbitten? How long does that take?

“Look, kid,” Stan huffs, his breath a white cloud glittering in the dark. “I’m putting you on cell duty. Your job is to think of a way to tell the others we’re down here so they can come rescue our asses.”

Are Dipper’s cheeks pinkening because of the cold, or because Stan cursed in front of him? Hard to tell. “Right.” 

Dipper bows his head over his phone, the bill of his blue pine-tree hat obscuring his face. His thumbs tap madly away; how the hell does he do that so fast? Then he turns, tremblingly striding the length of the walk-in freezer back and forth. At each corner, Dipper stops, raising his cell high above his head with a tight grimace. He stretches onto his tip-toes, waves the device right and left, and with a look of consternation, begins the process over again in a different corner. 

Stan watches his hands for a second more before it clicks.

“Dipper, take off your socks.”

“My what?” 

“Your socks.” Stan hurriedly bends over to do the same, peeling off his holey socks from his shoes before shoving his feet back inside. “Put them on your hands. Your dumb fingers are gonna get frostbit before anythin’ else and that ain’t gonna take more than two minutes.”

“B-but, Grunkle Stan, you just told me to I gotta use--”

“--do you want to lose your digits or not, kid?”

Is it a mercy or a worry that Dipper doesn’t fight him on this?

With his mouth set in a thin line, Dipper hands off his phone to Stan and squats to untie his shoes. Every passing second, the kid’s teeth chatter harder and harder; his fingers shake so much, he fumbles with the strings, pinching them and dropping them over and over again. He tugs and tugs to undo the shoelace, but it doesn’t budge. “G-Grunkle Stan, I can’t--I--”

There’s a terrible, terrible break in the kid’s already squeaky-ass voice.

Like an echo, a ricochet, something else breaks and cracks in the center of Stan’s chest.

He shoots forward, falling to his knee before he thinks better of it. His weary bones scream in protest, but not as badly as his skin does. It only takes seconds for the wet chill of the freezer floor to seep through his pants. He shoves Dipper’s phone in his pocket and doesn’t see the way the screen lights up as he does.

“It’s okay. I’ve got ya, kid,” he mutters and yanks the Converse laces loose himself. 

When Dipper’s hands are covered with twin stinky, middle-school white ankle-socks, Stan breathes a sigh of relief. Standing, he finds, is much worse on his creaky body immediately after kneeling.

“Remind me not to Cinderella you again, kid,” Stan groans, placing a sock-mittened hand in the center of his back.

Dipper chuckles, but it’s weak. The kid’s eyes shine a little too brightly in the dark, unshed tears making his eyelashes sparkle with frost. “Y-yeah. That was…awkward.” He clears his throat and holds out his socked hand expectantly, still shivering uncontrollably.

“Hm? What? Oh.” Stan fishes the kid’s phone back out.

Dipper’s face lights up at the same time as his screen does. “Grunkle Stan! Grunkle Stan we did it! We got a message through!”

“What?”

Dipper hurries over, pressing close to his side, and shoving his phone in his face as if he’s supposed to be able to read the tiny black font printed inside those grey boxes. 24%. There’s a funny, probably candid, photo of Mabel beside each one. Her cheek is pressed up against a wooden table with her tongue hanging out of her mouth, her face the utter look of someone who has eaten far too much cake and has icing all around her mouth to prove it. Does she even know Dipper took that picture? Who cares; it’s priceless.

“What am I supposed to be lookin’ at?”

“What Mabel said! She and Ford are on their way! They’ll be here in fifteen minutes!”

Fifteen minutes. Fifteen minutes.

“Kid, you tell her to tell my brother to step on it. We could be popsicles in fifteen minutes!”

“Y-yeah, but--”

“--and then as soon as you're done, come over here.” Stan didn’t want to have to do this, but it looks like he has little choice. He turns around, hunting for loose, broken-down cardboard boxes or crates and finds a stash of them pinned between a steel shelf and the wall. Hell yeah. “If we’re gonna last ‘till then, then we gotta hunker. No if’s, and’s, or but’s about it.”

“H-hunker?”

Stan throws several sheets of unfolded cardboard on the floor and covers the floor as much as he can.

“Hunker,” he confirms. 

- o - o - o -

The first five minutes aren’t horrible. Dipper is reluctant to huddle close and wants to stand and move around instead of sit down on a makeshift mat of cardboard. The kid admirably performs a few back-and-forth laps of high-knees and jumping-jacks before exhaustion kicks in and his body shivers too hard to do a single rep more.

Stan doesn’t even need to say anything. He holds out an arm and Dipper comes stumbling over back to him, shaking so hard, skin wane and pale, he might be as blue as his hat.

The second five minutes are spent clutching at each other, shivering tightly in a teeth-chattering huddle. In the end, Stan burrito-wraps his jacket around Dipper and pulls him over to curl against the pudge of his front. His socked hands run up and down, up and down the kid’s back as quickly as they can.

At the end of the third five minutes, Dipper begins to cry and Stan knows it’s because some part of him--his nose, probably--has frostbite setting in because it’s settling in on his nose and ears at the same time.

“Shit.”

“I-it--” It’s damn near pathetic the way the kid can barely talk. “--i-it h-h-hurts, G-Grunkle S--”

“--y-yeah. I know; I know…” 

Dipper’s breath is thin and quick under the tightness of his tears. He gasps for air, breath puffing up over and over again against his face. It’s pathetic. The way his thin shoulders are pulled up to his frozen ears; the way he can feel the tremors wrecking the kid in the middle of his hold. This entire damn thing is pathetic.

…and so is he, he thinks.

“I-I’m sorry,” Dipper stutters, voice so small. “I-I shouldn’t have--w-we s-shouldn’t have c-come here--I w-was stupid to th-think that--”

“Nope. None of that,” Stan clutches the kid tighter. “Shut up. Now.”

Dipper’s socked hands dig into the thin fabric of his button-up. Whether or not Stan actually meant to bring him to silence, that faltering apology is the last thing Dipper tries to say.

Twenty minutes pass.

- o - o - o -

Ford’s voice, when Stan finally hears it or thinks he hears it, is distant, like a dream. It washes over Stan with all the cotton-balled effect of damaged stereo speakers. Or maybe that’s just his hearing aids going out.

There are mittened hands on his shoulders, separate from the ones trying to pry away the huddle locked against his chest. As soon as the loss of a kid finally registers in his dumb, befuddled head, he writhes and fights. He rears up a socked fist to throw it--but it’s easily caught in a broad, six-fingered hand.

“Stanley. Stanley. It’s me. It’s okay.”

It takes monumental effort to crack open his eyelids and peer up. Something chilled and grainy falls down his cheeks. “Poindexter?”

“Stanley,” and the relief is so great and thick that any bitter anger Stan had in his chest at their belated rescue fizzles. “Oh, I’m so sorry. The ghost was…trying, to say the least. Mabel and I had to exorcise it before we could even get down to the basement. It…the entire process took much longer than it should have. And that never should have…I’m…” 

Dipper is pulled away from him and this time, he doesn’t resist. He can see the cool blue-black of police uniforms and the yellow jacket of paramedics.

“We tried to call you, but I suppose Dipper’s phone must have died. It went straight to voicemail.”

“Can it with the s-stupid apologies, will ya?” Stan sighs and his body shakes hard before stilling. “T-tired of it. Shit h-happened. W-we got locked in a f-f-f-fucking freezer. Just…get us the fuck out of here before I th-think about h-how I might sink s-some cruise ships.” 

Ford’s smile is rueful and exasperated. He looks over his shoulder at the paramedics that approach with a thick blanket in hand.

“I’ll make sure to keep you away from oceans, for a while, then.”

“W-water and ic-c-c-e in general. Th-thanks.”

“Noted.” Then the humor slips away and something else, something soft, gentles Ford’s face. It’s disgusting. Just like the blanket the paramedics wrap around Stan’s shoulders. “You’re going to be all right, Stan.”

“Yeah…” Stan’s eyes slip left, looking at the freezer’s now-open doorway.

“Dipper, too.”

Stan sniffs. When the paramedics pull Ford back to reach out and take his arms, he nods at his brother in wordless thanks. 

[detectivejigsawpines]

A mind is a terrible thing to lose

“What other choice do we have?”

For a moment there was silence between the two old men.

Then Stan looked at his twin sharply.  “Tell me somethin’, Poindexter.  Have you ever made a deal with the triangle that didn’t end with ya bein’ screwed over one way or another?”

Ford blinked.  “Well-no, but-”

“Yeah, but nothin’.  I’m not doin’ that.”  With that, he began shrugging out of his suit jacket, and then untying his tie after he shrugged out of the sleeves and let it drop to the floor.

Ford’s expression was a comical depiction of disbelief: eyes popping, mouth hanging open, eyebrows up in his bangs.  After a second, though, he remembered how to use his mouth.

“Stanley, what are you-have you gone mad?!”

“Probably.”  Stan pulled his tie off, and began unbuttoning his shirt.  “I’m gonna need your sweater.”  He looked down at their respective pants.  “...Both black, so he might not notice if they’re the same, but I’ll need your boots too.”

At which point Ford finally caught up with his brother’s thought processes.  “...You can’t be serious.”

“Watch me.”  The younger twin held out his clothes.  “We don’t have much time, hurry up!”

“Stanley, you don’t understand!  If I use the memory gun on you, you’ll be-!”

“And Bill will be gone forever, and the kids won’t have ta grow up in this hellhole!”  With his free hand Stan gestured at the chaos of the world around them.  “It’s worth it, Stanford!”

Ford looked like he’d been poleaxed.  “Stan…”

“It’ll fix everything,” Stan insisted.  Ford feared that there was an unspoken, And you were gonna kick me out at the end of the summer anyway, so it’s not like I’ve got anything ta lose at the end of that sentence.

But he finally gave in to his brother’s impatient glare and removed his coat and sweater, handing them over and taking Stan’s clothes.  Then he silently exchanged their shoes and put on Stan’s fez, while Stan fluffed up his hair and worked on changing his voice to match Ford’s.

“Heh, this is gonna be like that time when we tried ta fool Ma so you wouldn’t haveta go ta boxing,” he said with a gruff laugh, clearly hoping to pretend that his hands weren’t trembling a little as he pulled on Ford’s gloves (stuffing the extra finger holes with pieces of wadded-up tissue that had been in his pocket).  Then he admitted more sheepishly, “...Course, we better hope Bill’s less perceptive than she was.  From what I’ve seen, though, he’s gonna be too busy gloating about ya ‘giving in’ ta notice much.”

Ford didn’t say a word.  His mouth started to open as they grabbed onto the bars of their cage again, but then Bill was back, with the kids clutched in one hand, and there was no time for him to say what he’d been thinking.

It’s not worth you, Stanley.

********

Grunkle Stan wasn’t gone.

He wasn’t completely back... but he was there.  He’d been found again.

The despair that had enveloped the family in the forest began dissipating as they laughed over Mabel’s eccentric scrapbook entries.

After a while Stan, Mabel and Soos dozed off, all relaxed against each other and drooling shamelessly.

Dipper, exhausted as he was, wasn’t ready to join them just yet.  Gingerly he slipped free of the armchair, and began making his way through the debris towards the kitchen.

“Dipper?  Where are you going?”

The boy froze up at the sound of his other uncle’s voice-and was startled by the feeling of his fists inadvertently clenching.  Quickly he opened them and said, keeping his voice low, “Just gonna see if we have anything salvageable to eat.”

He went on into the kitchen, and tried to pull the door closed behind him-except that only half the door was still there.  Dipper sighed, and got a chair to help him climb onto the counter and begin searching the cupboards.

Nothing...nothing...a few cans of partially eaten brown meat (ugh)... and nothing.

Dipper forgot about eating and went out to sit on the front porch.

Ow, everything hurt.  He rubbed his sore arm, and wondered if the hospital was open-if so, it was probably crowded with everyone else in town.  Soos had said that as far as he knew, they were all still alive, but his primary interest had been finding the Pines family as soon as the chaos ended so he didn’t know for sure-

Ford stepped outside, looking far less stiff and straight-backed than normal, and joined Dipper on the sofa.  And without warning, Dipper looked up at him and asked, “How could you?”

His tone was more devoid of awe than it had ever been when he was addressing his idol before.  Ford froze, breath hitching, and stared down at him.  Dipper continued, voice rising a little, “How could you do that to him?!”

Logically, Dipper knew why, of course.  The metal plate in Ford’s head meant that they couldn’t erase Bill out of it, so Stan was the best choice for that course of action.  But to be able to use the memory gun on your own twin, and basically destroy everything they were-he could never imagine doing that to Mabel, no matter how messed up things might become between them.

Ford let out a choked sound, and his shoulders drooped even more.  “It was our only option left, Dipper-”

Something exploded in the boy’s brain, and he leaped to his feet.

“IT WOULDN’T HAVE BEEN OUR ONLY OPTION IF YOU HADN’T TRIED TO CORRECT HIM ON HIS STUPID GRAMMAR!”

It had been a rough indeterminate amount of time for Dipper recently.  He’d spent three days (sort of, since time didn’t really exist during Weirdmageddon) constantly fleeing for his life and hiding from everything, nearly lost his sister to an evil bubble, gone through the entire emotional spectrum several times over, and been forced to watch his family and friends almost be destroyed by a giant Dorito in a top hat.  All his pent-up anger and hurt wanted someone to blame for all that, and it had just found a perfect target.

“YOU COULDN’T STOP FIGHTING WITH HIM EVEN THOUGH THE WHOLE WORLD WAS AT STAKE!”  Dipper couldn’t remember the last time he’d yelled at someone like this, waving his arms in the air and just ranting every angry thought that came into his head like an ugly tidal wave.  He was surprised the others hadn’t come out to investigate the noise; maybe they were so tired they were sleeping through it.  “YOU JUST KEPT HURTING EACH OTHER, OVER AND OVER, AND NOW GRUNKLE STAN BARELY REMEMBERS ANYTHING ABOUT WHO HE IS BECAUSE YOU-”

The tirade was brought to a halt by the most unlikely sound: a small, quickly drawn-in inhale through the nostrils; specifically, a sniffle.

And when he looked at Grunkle Ford again, he was horrified to see silent tears spilling down his face.

It was the second time Dipper had ever seen Ford cry.

The first time had been when he was holding Stan, but all he’d really seen of that were his uncle’s trembling shoulders, and when he finally pulled back there’d been damp trails on his face and on Stan’s (technically his) coat.  Seeing it happening right in front of him, though, was more than a little frightening.

“No, Grunkle Ford, I-I didn’t mean it-!”

“You’re not wrong.”

His uncle was holding himself, huddling into his trenchcoat and burying his fingers in the sleeves, and he was still crying.

“No, I’m sorry!”  Dipper climbed back onto the sofa and, unsure of what else to do, began digging around in his vest pockets in the futile hope that he might have some tissues.  “I didn’t mean what I said!”

“You did mean it, Dipper,” Ford corrected him softly.  “People who are angry are more likely to be honest about their feelings.”

“But it wasn’t fair to you!”  Dipper finally found a scrap of cloth that seemed relatively clean-he wasn’t sure where it had come from, but decided not to worry about it for now-and offered it to him.  Ford looked at the cloth in confusion for a moment, then took it and used it to rub under his eyes and clean his glasses.  “This wasn’t all your fault-Grunkle Stan could’ve calmed down, or I could’ve not fought with Mabel, or a lot of other things could’ve happened instead to fix all this.”

“But a great deal of it is my fault-specifically, everything that happened to Stanley because I trusted Bill.”  His hands shook, and he balled the cloth into one of them in a tight fist.

Dipper wasn’t sure what he should do...until at last he decided to act on his instincts, Mabel style.  He climbed into his uncle’s lap, and hugged him gently around the middle.

********

When they had both calmed down somewhat, Dipper murmured, “...I think I need to go back to Piedmont with Mabel.  I’m sorry, I know you really wanted me to stay, but-”

Ford shook his head.  “That is completely fine, Dipper.  I wouldn’t want to be taught by myself either.”

“No, I wasn’t-I was thinking maybe when I’m a little older, like after we finish high school and Mabel’s gone off to some fancy art school in New York or something-”  both of them laughed-  “then we could talk about that apprenticeship again...but I don’t want to be separated from her for the rest of our teenagehood.”

Ford nodded thoughtfully, and leaned back against the sofa.  After a moment he said, “You’re a wiser man than I am, Mason.”

Dipper didn’t know if he agreed with that, but he leaned against his uncle’s chest with a small sigh, and finally allowed his eyes to close.

[redwoodwrites]

Being There

AO3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11890179

Summary:  Stan and Ford stop for a drink while traveling the sea. Unfortunately, things do not go as planned.

A/N:  Hello! This is actually my first fanfiction ever, and of course I had to do it on two of my favorite characters. I hope you enjoy it!

“We're gonna get so drunk!” Stan shouted, fist-pumping the air.

“At least we won't have to drive home,” Ford said with a smile, stepping out of the boat. They'd been sailing for weeks, and Stan had made him promise they'd stop at the first port they came to – which just so happened to be lined with grungy-looking bars. Ford had never been indulgent of alcohol. The closest he'd come was the (probably spiked) punch at their high school prom. Stan hadn't done much drinking, either, but his whole face had lit up like a menorah as soon as he saw the bars. How could Ford turn him down?

Stan threw an arm around his shoulders. “This is gonna be great! We're gonna get drunker than a couple of college frat boys!”

“'Drunker'?”

“Yo, Ford, you know what happens to people who correct grammar...”

Ford winced, and Stanley grinned.

“THEY HAVE TO PAY THE TAB! WOOHOO!”

Stan led them straight to the first bar. It looked like Stan's kind of place: dark, dirty, with a sign out front that said Fish: $20.00. Beer: Almost free.

The bar was small. There was barely room for the four tables inside; to make up for it, they had stools instead of chairs. There were a couple of slope-shouldered fishermen in the corner, but otherwise they had the place to themselves.

Ford wrinkled his nose. The place smelled decidedly rank.

“Stan, maybe we should patronize a diff-”

“YO BAR GUY!” Stan yelled. “What's cheap and filled with alcohol?”

The bartender turned and squinted at Stan with rheumy eyes. “A vodka with extra rocks,” he said.

“Nope – THIS guy!” Stan laughed, pointing to himself. “Or I will be as soon as I get that vodka!”

“I'll have the same,” Ford added. “And a plate of fish, please.” He had, after all, done his reading. A full stomach slowed the intake of alcohol. He'd indulge his brother, but it always paid to keep one's wits about.

They sat at a table by the window. Ford set his hand on it and instantly regretted it; the table was sticky, and he pulled his fingers away with a slight sucking noise. He sincerely hoped his chair wouldn't do the same when he finally stood up.

“Aw, man, you ever see a place this dirty?” Stan said loudly.

“Stan!”

“And the lighting! Those bulbs are dimmer than a Mystery Shack tourist! I bet this guy pays squat for maintenance!”

Somehow while he was talking, the lightbulb in the lamp above their table mysteriously vanished. (Not that it was any dimmer or brighter than before; most of the light came from the sunshine glancing through the window.) Still, he was pretty sure he saw the bartender watching through slitted eyes.

Ford grinned, leaned over and plucked the bulb from his brother's sleeve. “Let's not steal more than we want to pay for. We still have to buy more supplies and rations tomorrow.”

“Aw, don't be such a spoilsport, Sixer!”

The bartender arrived before Ford could answer. He hastily replaced the bulb as the man slammed down their orders and stalked back to the counter, muttering about the quality of his clientele. Not that Ford could blame them – when Ford glanced down at the table, his fork had disappeared.

“Stan!”

His brother grinned, making no attempt to pretend innocence, and waved the fork under his brother's nose. “Missing something, Sixer?”

“Give me that,” Ford laughed, making a grab for it. Stan snatched it back and dangled it again, teasing him. “You're not even drunk yet!” Ford protested, making another grab. Stan kept it just out of reach and Ford leaned over to get it. Stan was laughing so hard he could barely keep a grip on it anymore, and Ford grabbed it and then pulled Stan's beanie and pulled it over his face for good measure.

“And let that be a lesson to you!” Ford joked. Stan roared with laughter. Ford had seldom seen him look so happy, and he hadn't even gotten drunk yet. He glanced at his cup, wondering what they'd be like when they became...inebriated. Well, he planned to keep from getting too drunk, and with that thought, he cut the fish with his fork and took a bite.

Fire!

Ford had never expected the fish to be spicy but it was instant, the ghost pepper sending pain like hot knives under his tongue, cutting the roof of his mouth, burning his eyes. He gagged and spat the fish into his hand.

“Whoa, Ford!” Stan started pounding on his back.

Ford's eyes dripped tears, but the pain wasn't alleviated in the slightest. In desperation, Ford grabbed the vodka and swallowed, holding a block of ice on his tongue. The fiery oil felt like it was searing the very jelly of his eyes. He covered his face with his hands, as if he could rub out the agony. It burned beyond belief, there was a roaring in his ears, his tongue felt swollen and his eye was stinging, it was burning, it was dripping blood –

He jerked back from the table and scrambled for the door, half-blind with tears and panic. Stan and the bartender were yelling and then there was a pressure on his arm and the bright light of the sunlight suddenly hit his face. The added pain made his bile rise and he gagged.

“Ford, Ford, just talk to me,” Stan was saying.

“My eyes are burning,” Ford gasped.

“That bad? Hang on, I got this –”

Stan half-dragged him towards a blurry building farther down the street. Ford grabbed his brother's shoulder, gripping it tightly in one hand while he scrubbed brutally at his eyes with the other. He wanted to claw them out, he wanted to end the burning, they're bleeding my eyes are bleeding he caught me again I can't fall asleep get out of my head get it out get it out –

Stan shoved something into his hands, but they shook too badly to hold it, and Stan guided it to his mouth. Some kind of bottle. Ford chugged whatever was in it until it was empty, and Stan handed him another one. He couldn't even taste it, but it was thicker than water, like a smoothie or a syrup. He drank the next bottle, and the next, and the next.

It wasn't until the sixth one that the agony began to ebb. He noticed they were sitting down, leaning against something hard that poked at his back. He tried to look around, but his eyes were still watering too badly.

“Tilt your head up a minute,” Stan said, and gently poured water onto his face, soothing his eyes. Ford hoped fleetingly that Stan used bottled water, but it was still so painful he couldn't hold onto the thought.

“It's okay, Ford...I know it hurts, but you'll be alright,” Stan murmured, his gravelly voice soft.

Ford realized that he was crying.  His shoulders were shaking less with pain than with fear. At least the continued production of tears would help wash out the spice, he thought distantly. It was as if his mind had divided into two: one half paralyzed with fear, the other a cold observer. He couldn't seem to stop crying. Stan handed him another drink, and another, and another. He drank them all and still the tears came. He hadn't expected to recall his experiences with Bill quite so strongly. He tried to catch his breath.

“That bartender can forget a tip,” Stan joked.

Ford managed a smile, more for Stan than anything else. He tried to talk but his voice cracked with a sob. He sank forward, covering his eyes with one hand.

“C'mon, Ford. This isn't just about the fish, is it?” Stan asked. Ford shook his head, still hiding his face.

He'd never gotten around to telling Stanley about the...events that happened before Stanley's arrival in Gravity Falls. It had just never come up. And now that it was finally relevant, Ford couldn't bring himself to find the words. Shock and shame burned in his throat.

There was a long pause.

“Alright,” Stan said finally. “Just...just tell me what you need.”

Ford held up the empty bottle with his free hand. Stan replaced it with a full one and Ford drank it down. When that was gone there was a new one in his hand before he could ask. Stan stayed right next to him, one arm resting on Ford's back, handing him drinks whenever he needed them.

After a long time, Ford felt the stinging spice begin to ebb. His eyes watered, but no longer dripped tears, and he could almost feel his tongue again. He took several deep breaths, wiped at his eyes, and straightened up.

It was some kind of convenience store. They were sitting on the floor in front of the soft drink section, over a dozen empty bottles littered in the aisle around them. The wrappers indicated he'd been drinking some kind of fruit smoothie. Looking left, Ford could see a part of the window at the front of the store; it was just down the street from where they'd started.

“Well,” Ford rasped, “so much for getting drunk.”

Stan laughed, playfully slapping his shoulder. “I dunno, I think one of us sure got a lot to drink!”

Ford chuckled a little. Based on the vacant spot in the shelf, they'd pretty much cleaned out the smoothies.

Stan was ready to put the empty bottles back and hide them behind the few remaining ones, but Ford insisted on paying. He didn't want to do anything to cause trouble, especially in a foreign country, or make them wanted men. He'd had enough of that sort of life on the other side of the portal.

The mood for drinking was thoroughly ruined, so they bought their supplies and headed back for the boat inside an hour. They decided to stay docked until tomorrow, in case they wanted to actually get drunk, but until then Ford had plenty of work to keep him occupied – several samples to check and compare against yesterday's observations, checking Dipper's homework on the spread and extinction of klatoblepones in Europe, assigning him work on the hypothetical introduction of supernatural species via airplanes, responding to the comments left by his scientific colleagues on his most recent essay eliminating narwhal as a relative of the unicorn...

Stan kept him company, playing paddleball, sleeping at the table and doing general puttering things. Ford wasn't really paying attention, but he was deeply grateful for the company. He knew he had to give Stanley attention tomorrow, maybe actually get to the 'drinking' part of the bar experience, but for now he needed the distraction of his work. He really didn't want to think about...

It didn't matter. He had work to do.

 It was well past 2 AM when Stan woke up, hunched awkwardly over the kitchen table. He blinked groggily, wiped the drool from his lip and groaned as he sat up straight. Being old was a real pain in the...

“Ford?” Stan said. Last thing Stan remembered, his brother was sitting across from him, clicking away on the computer. The laptop was exactly where he'd left it, but Ford was nowhere in sight.

Stan got to his feet, gritting his teeth as his joints popped and ached. This far north, the cold was not easy on his arthritis. He made a mental note to get some painkillers at the drugstore before they left. Make that two bottles, since Ford might need them, too.

He poked his head into the bunk room, but both beds were empty.

Great. The nerd was probably freezing his butt off on deck. Why didn't he just stay down below? Stan wouldn't care if Ford was still shaken up over what happened earlier.

Not that Stan really knew what happened in the first place. It obviously wasn't about some bad fish.

This wasn't the first time something like this happened, either. Once, they'd docked at a little town in Canada to get some supplies, and decided to check out the local tourist trap just for fun. Ford had taken one look at a little glass prism and practically bolted out of the shop. Or the nightmares – last week Stan had woken up to screaming in an alien language. He'd shaken Ford awake, but his brother wouldn't tell him what the dream had been about. It was like some part of him still thought he had to do the “lone wolf hero” thing.

It was driving Stanley crazy. Didn't his brother know how much Stan loved him by now? He wouldn't care if Ford was all shaken up. Heck, he wouldn't care if Ford cried on his shoulder like Dipper after a fairy bit him. Ford was his brother. They were supposed to stick together, to trust each other. Not that either one of them were good at the whole “sharing feelings” crap, but still...

“Stupid genius,” he muttered. Grabbing a jacket and a blanket from his bed, Stan headed out the hatch and onto the deck.

Ford was leaning against the rail, staring at the lightening sky. His back was to Stan, but his shoulders looked stiff and hunched.

“How long you been out here, Sixer?”

“Not – not long.”

He came up beside his brother and raised an eyebrow. “Ford, you got frost on your face.”

Ford scrubbed at his cheeks.

Stan stood next to him for a while, looking over the ocean. It felt good to be beside his brother, but he hated watching Sixer hurting. Whatever that spicy fish had triggered for him, it wasn't anything good.

This is driving me crazy! Why doesn't he ever just tell me what's wrong?

“Oh yeah – I brought a blanket,” Stan remembered suddenly, holding it up. It was one of Mabel's knitting creations, soft as kitten breath and pink as an embarrassed flamingo. “Let's go siddown and cover up, huh?”

They settled themselves on the bench nailed to the outside wall of the cabin. Stan spread the blanket over their legs and sat back. He was literally biting his tongue, trying to keep from bugging Ford. If he's not ready to talk then shut yer yap, he thought like a chant. Shut yer yap, shut yer yap, shut yer yap...

This was just killing him.

He thought of a question that felt safe to ask. “Are you...ok now?”

Ford sighed. “Yes.”

“Have you even slept? You look like you could really use the rest.”

Ford leaned back with a sigh.

Stan made himself let it go. “Hey, remember when we shared a bed at Aunt Sheila's as kids?” he said. “We always thought it was so awkward because she made us sleep in the living room...so we stayed up and built pillow fort mazes for hours.”

Ford smiled a little. “I do. Complete with booby traps. Remember the nacho chips?”

“Oh, man!” Stan laughed. “By the time we finally found 'em they'd gone way past green and hit purple mold!”

“Exactly the same color as her drapes,” Ford said.

“I guess the one good thing – after Dad chewed us out – was that we never had to go back after that. I hated being away from the Stan O' War.”

Ford didn't say anything for a moment. Then, to Stan's surprise, Ford leaned against him a little. He was sort of hunching, like he didn't quite know how to do it.

“Hey, Sixer?”

“It brought back memories of being possessed by Bill,” Ford said bluntly. “I know you've been trying not to ask. I'd rather...I'd rather not go into detail. But I wanted to tell you...I...appreciate your being there, and not pushing me for information. The smoothies were a great idea.”

The way Ford's head was angled, Stan couldn't see his face. He just stared at his hair for a minute. Appreciate? Did he really just say that? Was that nerd-talk for 'Thank you'?

“Well...sure, Sixer,” he said. “Anytime.”

“And I am sorry I ruined our drinks.”

“Come on. You see the state of that dump? Guy probably spits in a glass and calls it vodka.” Stan waved a hand. “There's a dozen other bars on the street. If you're up for it later, we can always grab a gin or something somewhere else.”

He wrapped an arm around his brother. In a few minutes, Ford started to nod, and then his head dropped softly onto Stan's shoulder. Stan leaned into him a little, balancing them. This could work, he thought. Ford liked that Stan had helped him. Ford trusted Stan to help him. Even if Ford wasn't ready to tell him everything, Stan could work with this. Just being there for his brother. It's what he'd wanted to do the whole time, anyway.

Stan smiled, listening to his brother's light snoring, and watched the sun rise.

[anistarrose]

If The Sky Comes Falling Down (GF One-Shot)

Summary: Stan’s (and Ford’s) birthdays throughout the years.

Word Count: ~2300

Warnings: none

AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19226707

Happy June 15th! (Title is from Hey Brother by Avicii!)

***

Stan and Ford are ten years old, and every one of their birthdays has been shared.

Every year, from the second the final school bell rings and onwards, the twins’ number one priority is planning the best birthday ever — what type of cake they want, which comic issues each of them should beg their parents for in order to maximize their combined yield, how they want to spend the day in order to make it the best day of the whole year.

Other kids at school seem to feel sorry for them, like having to share your birthday ruins all the fun of it, but to Stan and Ford, sharing has always been the whole point. With a twin, you’ve always got someone just as dedicated as you are to making your birthday perfect.

They’d never want it any other way.

Stan and Ford are seventeen years old, ready for their final year of high school, and as always they spend their birthday together. Today, they’re using the morning to work on the boat.

Freedom is tantalizingly close — just one more year of school, one more year of putting up with Dad. It feels just barely out of reach, just barely over the horizon.

If they time this thing right, and put in enough work, they might be able to complete the repairs just in time to sail out of town on the very day they turn eighteen. It’ll be a poetic and dramatic exit, as they journey onwards to clearer waters and grander adventures.

Just the two of them, going wherever they want to go. Stan can’t wait.

Stan (and Ford) are eighteen years old, and they aren’t spending their birthday together this year.

Ford is probably with his family — or maybe he’s already headed out to college and made new friends replacements there, for all Stan knows…

No, don’t waste time thinking about that, it won’t end well. The only thing Stan knows is that for the first time in his life, he’s spending his birthday alone, and he doesn’t have any idea what to do. Birthdays without Ford are a foreign concept to him, like an entirely new holiday that he’s never celebrated before, and he just feels empty.

Eventually, he settles on going to the nearest comic store and blowing his dwindling supplies of cash on the installments he’s missed over the past few months. He ends up not even having enough money to both get fully caught up and eat tomorrow, so he only buys a few issues — but it’s still enough to put a smile on his face that evening, even if that smile is only brought about by indulging in denial, by pretending he’s back home and everything with Ford is just as it’s always been.

Stan (and Ford) are twenty, twenty-five, thirty years old, and Stan still treats himself for his birthday however he can most years — if not the fifteenth, then the eighteenth, or even the twenty-eighth if it takes him that long to get ahold of a few spare dollars. And many years, he enjoys himself, but on others it just isn’t worth the painful memories that always tend to surface.

He’s realizing that sharing your date of birth with someone isn’t so fun after all, if you’re not sharing the celebration too.

Stan is thirty-one years old, and he doesn’t know if Ford is too because he doesn’t know if Ford’s even alive.

Summer is peak tourist season, so he has plenty of cash to spare, but he doesn’t do anything to celebrate when his birthday rolls around. He briefly has the notion that he should buy a cake and bring it downstairs to the portal room, but he discards the idea just as quickly. It just hurts to much to acknowledge.

Stan is fifty-two years old, and has been for nearly a month now as he gives Soos a reassuring pat on the back. The kid’s tears slow down a little, but not enough.

“Hey now, what’s the matter? Do you need to go home, ‘cause… well, it pains me to say this, but you haven’t missed a day of work since I’ve hired you, and I guess I could give you one day off with full pay…”

Soos shakes his head. “Nuh-uh. I — I don’t wanna be at home today.”

“Uh…” That surprises Stan, because as far as he knows Soos has a pretty idyllic home life with a grandmother who does nothing but dote on him — but if Stan has to curse out an old lady for reducing Soos to a bawling wreck, then he’ll do it, damn it. He’s cursed out stranger characters before.

There’s a sharp rap on the door — specifically the door to the private side of the Mystery Shack, not the side that’s open to tourists.

“Shoot, I gotta get this. Be right back,” Stan tells Soos, tossing him a box of tissues on the way out. Soos makes no effort to catch them, and the box bounces off his shoulder with a thwack as Stan cringes internally and hurries to the back porch.

And speak of the devil, it’s Soos’s Abuelita who’s waiting for him there, anxiously fidgeting with the straps of her apron.

“Has Soos come into work today?” she asks. “He said he would take the day off for his birthday party this afternoon, but he is not at home!”

Oh. So it’s a birthday thing.

“Yeah, I think I saw him swing by today,” Stan answers slowly. “I’ll go find him for you.”

“Thank you! I was so worried…”

Stan heads back inside, and sits down on the ground next to Soos even though his back protests against him with a burst of pain.

“Hey, kid. Your Abuelita’s looking for you.”

Soos buries his head in his hands, and mumbles something incomprehensible.

“Not a fan of birthday parties, huh? It’s okay… I’m not either.”

Soos looks up. “Really?”

Stan looks away. “Yeah, they’re just… not my thing.”

“My dad always promises he’d come visit on my birthday,” Soos mumbles. “But then he never does…”

“Oh, kid. I’m so sorry about that.” Stan pauses, and then throws an arm over Soos’s shoulder.

“I get it,” he whispers. “When it’s supposed to be the greatest day of the year for you, but then the people you care about — or the people you want to care about you — aren’t there, year after year, then it… it really wears you down.”

“Does your family never visit you on your birthday, Mr. Pines?”

“Uh… yeah. Yeah, something like that.”

Soos wraps his arms around Stan’s chest, trapping him in a surprisingly tight hug.

“I thought I was the only one who hated my birthday,” he whispers. “I’m sorry your family’s like that, Mr. Pines, but… I’m glad I’m not the only one.”

Stan is sixty-one years old, and he’s perfected the art of doing nice things for himself in early June and then lying to himself about it.

The party’s just a moneymaking scheme, nothing more. Getting to dance all night and eat marshmallows and other junk food? Those are just bonuses, and the timing? Falling exactly on the fifteenth of June? Well, that’s definitely just a coincidence.

Mabel is a whirlwind of energy and excitement on the dance floor, having apparently made some new friends, and Dipper is who-knows-where, probably off shirking his responsibilities and making trouble. They’re both good kids — their weirdness and stubbornness and just general twin-ness is a comforting kind of familiar on some days, and a worrying kind of familiar on others, but that’s not their fault. They don’t know.

Something about the presence of the younger twins tells Stan that it’s this summer that everything will finally change, though. That this is the last birthday that he’ll spend alone, unable to share.

Stan and Ford are both sixty-one, and all of those years have only led up to this. To the sky being ripped apart, and a demon burning the town to the ground.

“We used to be like Dipper and Mabel,” Ford says. “The world's about to end and they still work together. How do they do it?”

“Easy, they’re kids,” Stan tells him. “They don’t know any better.”

Ford stands up, a determined but wistful look in his eyes.

“Whoa, where you going?”

“I'm going to play the only card we have left — let Bill into my mind,” Ford explains. “He'll be able to take over the galaxy, and maybe even worse… but at least he might let the kids free.”

“What? Are you kidding me?! Are you honestly telling me there's nothing else we can do?!”

“Bill's only weak in the mindspace. If I didn't have this darn plate in my head —” Ford makes a fist and hits the side of his skull for emphasis, producing a metallic clang. “— we could just erase him with the memory gun when he steps inside my mind.”

“What if he goes into my mind? My brain isn’t good for anything.”

Ford chuckles sadly. “There's nothing in your mind he wants. It has to be me. We need to take his deal, it's the only way he'll agree to save you and the kids.”

“Do you really think he’s gonna make good on that deal?”

Ford sighs. “What other choice do we have?”

“You could… holy shit, Ford, quick! Put on my clothes!”

“Excuse me?!”

Stan takes off his fez and slaps it on Ford’s head. “If we switch places, Bill can go in my mind and then you can erase him! If it fooled all our teachers, why can’t it fool a demon?”

Ford throws the fez to the ground and grabs him by the shoulders, and Stan braces himself for a reply of you idiot, that’ll never work, don’t you think I would have thought of that myself if it would? — but he’s left completely unprepared for the words that actually come out of Ford’s mouth, quiet and slow and afraid in a way Stan hasn’t heard in decades:

“Stanley, that won’t just erase Bill. It’ll erase you.”

“But will it work?” Stan doesn’t even need to ask — Ford has a certain gleam in his eyes, a certain look of awe upon his face that only appears when he’s truly blown away by a revelation that never occurred to him, but makes all the sense in the world. It’s a look that’s partially obscured behind an expression of fear, of guilt, of desperation — but it’s definitely there.

“It will work,” Ford whispers, “but I don’t want to lose you.”

“It’s either erasing one idiot’s memories or letting a lot of people die, Ford! We’re — we’re running out of time, damn it!”

Ford stares at the ground as he begins to pull off his trenchcoat. “I’m so sorry, Stan.”

“I am too, Ford.”

A man wakes up in a clearing and remembers nothing, least of all his age.

Strangers approach him, cry over him, call him a hero and hug him uncomfortably tight, and he doesn’t know what to do. He doesn’t know what to say.

Ford, the older man, tells him that his name is Stanley, and that the two of them are brothers, that they’re twins, but something about the realization rings hollow. Any connection Stan might’ve once had with this man has since been severed, leaving them to share a face, a birthday, and nothing more.

…Or at least, that’s what one would think, because surely a disoriented and confused shell of a man with ill-fitting clothes and no memories can’t be a brother to anyone, not in any of the ways that truly matter — but when Stan looks at Ford and sees him staring off into the distance with a defeated frown on his face, looks at any of these strangers and sees them in anguish… his heart feels like it’s about to be torn in two. So maybe, just maybe, some fragment of a connection has persisted.

He tries to lighten the mood, to no avail, and tries to remember the scenes in the scrapbook the girl shows him — and when words start spilling out of his mouth on instinct, he’s relieved not for himself, but for the others. (For his family.)

He’s relieved when he sees them start to smile, to hope, and finally thinks Yeah, these faces look familiar.

Stan and Ford are sixty-two years old, and they blow out the candles on their birthday cake together as Dipper takes pictures and Mabel showers both of them in confetti.

“Mabel, sweetie, that’s kind of a fire hazard,” Stan warns her. “You know, with the candles and all —”

“Oh, it’s fine,” Ford cuts in. “We all know where the fire extinguisher is, don’t we?”

“Yeah, because you’ve already come seconds away from blowing us into the stratosphere twice this summer!”

They laugh, and then Stan and Ford argue over who gets to cut the cake, but there’s no malice behind the words. It’s just the usual sibling banter — one of the many little things that Stan and Ford have found themselves appreciating more than ever this past year, after having gone so long without it.

Everyone is stuffed except for Stan, who’s cleaning out the last few spoonfuls from a tub of ice cream, when Ford pours one last glass of milk and raises it towards Stan like one would for a toast.

“Here’s to more birthdays together,” he says, and Stan hastily picks up his own cups to clink it against Ford’s. It’s not a very satisfying clink, since both cups are plastic, but it’s good enough. It’s the sentiment that really makes the toast, after all.

“To more birthdays together,” Stan echoes.

***

Endnotes:

Thanks for reading, feedback and reblogs are appreciated as always! I realize Stan acted in Blendin’s Game like he didn’t know what caused Soos to hate his birthday, but I feel like it’s plausible he wouldn’t have wanted to share something so personal with the others if Soos clearly didn’t want to talk about it (and also I wrote that scene before realizing this potential continuity issue and just really wanted to keep that dialogue).

Anyways, I could go on and on about how much these two stubborn old men mean to me, but to keep it brief, thinking and writing about them has helped me through a bunch of rough patches, so I felt like it was about time to write something for their birthday (which I’d hoped to do last year, but writer’s block was a bitch). I’m so proud of this whole dumb fictional family, and I had the biggest smile imaginable on my face while I was writing that scene of pure fluff at the end :’)

[dontyoudarejudgemesworld]

The Apple Doesn’t Fall Far: Chapter Seven: New Things

Hey y'all I hope your well. So sorry that it's been a minute but as we all know the world is in chaos. I am currently the only one in my house working and trying to support three others who are high risk. Due to that I've been massively stressed out and busy. Still I finally managed to get this together to go up. 

As always you can find it here on AO3

Hope you all enjoy it. Be safe out there and take care of yourselves and others.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

“...and next ladies and gentlemen we have a creature so rare…so illusive that only the truest explorers have seen it. I give you the Cucuk-ig,” Billie said with a flamboyant flourish at a hog with wings carefully attached to its back, “Now I know that it may seem too good to be true but I assure you I personally brought this specimen back from the deepest bowls of the Amazon,” she told the tour she led leaning towards them as though imparting some great secret, “You see most people believe that the phrase ‘when pigs fly’ was coined to refer to something impossible. But it actually comes from the people of the Bulspita region where these creatures live. You see the phrase actually refers to early July when these amazing creatures migrate to their breeding grounds. The natives coined the phrase in reference to their harvest season which aligns with their migration,” she said her voice carrying the tone of a scholar looking around at the rubes a few of which looked skeptical, “Now of course when I heard the locals claims of flying pigs I scoffed but a native man offered to take me to see them. And so we embarked on a four week trek into the deepest groves of the Amazon. It was slow going as we cut through undergrowth so thick….,” she said launching into a story of grand adventure.

Dipper couldn’t help but think she looked like she had walked out of the jungle; heavy tan cargos were slung low on her hips, a black tank top hugged her form under an unzipped grey green cargo vest, and worn heat boots served at the basis for her persona. Fingerless black gloves and a red bandanna tied loosely around her neck sold the Laura Croft vibe along with her heavy black curls spilling in a wild mess about her face and shoulders. He noticed that her southern drawl had changed into a smooth English clip lending to the mysterious adventurer role. Dipper knew that to be roped into Stan's show you had to have a costume and he was kind of jealous of hers, it was a far cry better then gluing dog hair to yourself and dancing for money.

“Man she is really good at this,” Dipper observed from the counter where he leaned next to Wendy, “Like she kinda puts Stan to shame.”

“Oh yeah man,” Wendy said as they watched tourist eat up the black haired woman’s words leaning in as she spoke, "The stuff she shows up with is actually pretty cool, and she comes up with stories that could totally be a comic book. She’s like one of the coolest people I know. I mean I know that she's a total sham like Stan but sometimes I wonder if she really does go off on super cool adventures like some kind of Iowa Jane. Even my Dad thinks she's a bad ass."

"Really?" he said as he watched the for group scramble at shove money at her as she touted only $5 to get their picture taken with the pig. More then a few asked her to pose with them which she did gladly flashing winning smiles and peace signs for the camera. Watching her he couldn't help but think she looked like he though the author would; adventurous, daring, and brave.

"Hey...so I was thinking. You know how Billie has six fingers, " He stared causing Wendy to raise a brow her eyes shooting over to him.

"Yeah dude but she's kinda sky about it so maybe not..., " she offered quickly and he held up his hands shaking his head.

"No, no! Listen, " He said quickly, "The Journal has a six fingered left hand on the front. She has six fingers on her left hand, " He said and she shot up from her slouch on the counter to stare at him.

"Dude! Do you think she's the author!?! " Wendy asked her eyes wide and eager as they shot over to Billie who was now telling the eager crowd about the mermaid Stan had, "She totally could be. I mean she's a PI but who knows what she's actually investigating. It would totally make since."

"Well that's what I thought but Mabel pointed out that the book is super old. So Soos thinks she might be the authors daughter, " He told her bouncing in excitement at the redhead's sudden enthusiasm, "Mabel found out that her Dad grew up with Stan, but he died when she was young. The Journal Author said he hid it because he was in danger. What if her Dad was the Author and she came here looking for answers...for the Journals?" he said his own excitement bubbling up as he shared his theory with his favorite person.

"Whoa..., " she said looking down at him, "We have to ask her! She could be the key to figuring it out! "

"No, I mean not yet, " he said quickly, "I mean what if she's not? I think we should do some investigation first. I mean look at Gideon. He got a hold of one of them and went nuts. And the shape shifter...well you we're there. I think we should be careful here, " he said glancing over at the woman.

"Well, I mean I know Billie and she's pretty cool. She helped Tambry and I out... " Wendy started.

"What’re you two over here conspirin’ ‘bout ? " Billie's voice broke in causing both of them to jump. She seemed to have dropped the fake english accent her heavy drawl replacing it as she eyed both of them a lazy half smile pulling at her lips.

"Nothing! " they said in unison causing Billie's lips to twist in amusement as she cocked a brow. Eyeing them let let out a hum of disbelief.

"Yeah, y’all look as innocent as a fox in the hen house, " she drawled, "I'ma go pick up some burgers at Greasy's y’all want anything?” she asked as she leaned against the counter.

“Heck yeah. Double cheese burger please,” Wendy said with a laugh. With a nod Billie turned her emerald eyes on Dipper who stood staring up at her with red ears.

“What ‘bout you Bud?” she asked cocking a brow and he blushed even deeper as one hand came up to scratch the back of his neck. Just like his Grunkle, and her if she was honest. Must run in the family, she supposed.

“Uhhhh, sure. Thank,” he said as he shook himself slightly looking down to his feet before glancing up at her sheepishly, “Want me to come along to help?” he asked and she blinked in suprise. She seemed to hesitate as he waited anxiously; if he went with her maybe he could ask her some questions. After a minute she rolled a shoulder and gave a nervious smile.

“Sure, an extra pair ah hands never hurts,” she replied after a second and was rewarded with a beaming smile, “Well, get a move on. I aint waitin’ all day,” she said as she spun and headed out to the door to the El Diablo. Dipper looked at Wendy who widened her eyes and looked after Billie.

“Go dude,” she said and he scampered out the door after her. Clamering into the car he quickly pulled the seat belt on an watched as she slid into the front seat and started the car. Pulling out of the drive way she headed towards town. Glancing in the rear view mirror at the kid in the back seat. He was fidgeting as he stared at her from under the brim of his hat. A heavy silence filled the car as both of them seemed to think of something to say. After a few tense moments Billie cleared her throat.

“So…Stan says you like weird stuff,” she said breaking the silence and he let out a nervous laugh.

“Yeah,” he said looking up at her in the rear view mirror, “The stuff around here is crazy. You said you’ve seen the gnomes, right? On our first day they decided to kidnap Mabel and make her their queen. When she said no they tried to kidnap her. Did you know that they can stack themselves into a giant mecha gnome?” he asked and she rolled her eyes and left out a huff of laughter.

“No, I didn’t,” she told him, “I know they’re nasty little varmints that’ll try an steal anything not nailed down. I like the ‘lil campfires that scuttle ‘round the woods, though,” she told him and his ears perked up.

“I haven’t seen those,” he said eagerly, “Do you think you could show me one. I’d like to add it to the jor…letters I’m writing home,” he caught himself his voice cracking. She cocked a brow at his stumble over his words but decided to leave it be.

“Sure, there’s one that seems ta hang out in the woods behind the Shack. I give it marshmallows every time I come visit so he’ll usually show up if I shake a bag an’ whistle,” she told him, “You’ll ‘ave ta show me some o’ the weird stuff you’ve found. We just wont tell Stan since he likes ta pretend that ‘weird’ ain’t a thing,” she said and he let out an uncomfortable laugh.

“Yeah, it took me raising a hoard of zombies to get him to admit it,” he said causing Billie’s eyes to fly open wide and her head to jerk back to look at him.

“What?!” she said before remembering that she was driving, “That’s…alarmin’ on a few levels kid,” she told him and he turned red as he scrunched down to hide in his vest causing her to wince, “I mean zombies being real and all,” she said quickly even though she had to wonder how the hell he had managed to raise the dead.

“Oh yeah, but you can cure the it with paint thinner and cinnamon,” he said and she had to bite her cheeks not to say anything, “We fixed Soos up after and he’s fine,” he added as she pulled up to Greasy’s. Turning around she handed Dipper a hand full of bills.

“I called Susan already. Go grab the food,” she told him, “And try not to summon any zombies on your way,” she told him and he grinned as he nodded hopping out. Watching him go she shook her head, she was going to have to ask Stan about the zombie thing. And figure out how in the hell he knew how to summon zombies, that didn’t seem safe for a 12 year old to be doing as a past time. Great more homework. Maybe she should just do full investigations on the whole damned family and save herself some time.

~*~

Billie sat on Wendy’s hide out one leg dangling over the edge head resting in her hand as she stared at her lap top. She was reading Filbrick Pine’s service record. And man was it a read, apparently Grandpa was a bad ass who’d served honorably kicking some serious Nazi ass in WW2. While she had Stanley’s life pretty well plotted out from 18 and beyond, that didn’t help her figure out why his whole family had erased him. To understand that she needed to understand her family, which meant learning the in and outs of it. And what she was finding was slowly paint a picture of dysfunction that made her feel slightly less out of place.

Idly she pushed the thick glasses up her nose. It was late and she had changed into her basket ball shorts and t-shirt after the kids had gone to bed, and her contacts had been bugging her. Normally she hated wearing the stupid coke bottle lenses but she was blind as a bat without them. Sticking her pen between her lips she chewed on it lightly in between jotting down notes in the book beside her. So far she had pieced together that Filbrick had served front lines for most of the war, and done it stoically. He’d been one of the first ones on sight of three concentration camp liberalizations, and his psych eval.s suggested that he had repressed most of the trauma from such service. Though he met much of the criteria for PTSD as laid down by the APA.

Depending on the severity of it he would have…her eyes snapped open as she jerked up. She’d been dozing, it was late and a day spent hustling for Stan was more tiring then one might think. Sighing she set the laptop aside and brought the cigarette in her fingers to her lips taking a long drag  the cherry flaring to illuminate the bright blue paper of the barrel of it. Cracking her neck she looked out over the yard and out into the trees. A heavy mist had descended around them obscuring the shapes below; changing them into shifting twisting shadows. The horrors of her subconscious just waiting to rise up and consume her if she let them. Good thing Lucid dreaming was a thing; if it wasn’t she’d probably be a full blown alcoholic instead of just a functioning one.

“Well, well, well, you’re new,” came a voice from behind her that sent shivers down her spine. It was soft yet reverberated around her and one that she didn’t recognize. She knew her demons and this wasn’t one of the. Taking another drag she held the cigarette up and cocked her head watching the smoke curling up and away into the stars that spiraled lazily above them.

“So are you,” she said after a moment with out turning. A chilling laugh came from behind her as the demon moved circling her. She didn’t look up to follow it’s progress but she saw it; a yellow pyramid with a giant eye. The dapper little bow tie and top hat added a touch that was both sinister and comical.

“Hmmmm, you don’t fit,” he said as he stopped in front of her, “A real Wild Card. Nice hand, I love freaks,” he laughed and she finally looked up at him cocking a brow he lips twisting in boredom.

“Huh, guess I’m running out of imagination. I’d think my subconscious would be able to come up with new material,” she sighed rolling her eyes, “So what are you? New form of self loathing? Manifestation of trauma? Representation of budding Body Dysmorphic Disorder?  she asked and he laughed as he looked down at the mist and the figures that swarmed there.

“As delightful as that stew of crazy is I’m not part of it,” he laughed floating lazily around her, “No, I’m something so much more,” he assured her stopping hover over the pages of her notebook and looking down at them, “Looking for Pine Family secrets, huh? I could help you know,” he laughed as he raised his hand and the pages exploded to float around them, “I know things, lots of things,” he added his voice distorting to a deeper growl as his body began flashing a million images at once, some she recognized and a lot more she didn’t, “I could help you you know. Infinite knowledge and all it takes is a hand shake,” he said his hand bursting into blue flames as he offered it to her. She stared at him her face expressionless except for a single brow twitching as the pages swirled around them each displaying a picture of her family moving in mute memories.

“Okay enough of that,” she said snapping her fingers the pages returning to a normal notebook causing Bill’s eye to widen slightly as she looked up at him a vicious kind of smile pulling at her lips, “Look here Bill. This is my dream. I don’t know what you are but I don’t make deals without knowing the stakes. So whatever you are you can leave. My whole job is finding out secrets and I don’t need no help. So crawl back under what ever walk you came from. I’m waking up now,” she told him snapping her fingers again.

Billie jerked awake finding the stars over her fixed in their proper places. Shaking herself she sat up and looked down at her notebook the pages fluttering in the light summer breeze of the night. There in the corner of the page was a simple doodle of a triangle with a top hat.

“Well that’s new,” she said looking down at the lines.

[bluecoffeemugs]

Seven Minutes in Heaven

-a billdip oneshot-

As summer arrived and classes ended, Gravity Falls Highschool’s teenagers started to make summer parties almost every day. Almost all of the town’s teens would gather somewhere and have fun until the sun began to rise. Everyone wanted to go to these parties, but there were some parties not everyone was invited to. For example, the one happening tonight.

“Mabel, for the tenth time,” Dipper sighed while laying comfortably on his bed and not looking up from the journal, “I’m not going.”

“Oh come on, bro bro!” Mabel exclaimed, “It’s gonna be the party of the summer!”

“You say that to every summer party,” Dipper argued, hearing his sister pacing around the room.

“I’ll clean the dishes for a week!” said Mabel, making Dipper put down his journal and furrow his brows.

“Why do you want me to go so badly?” He asked, genuinely confused.

“For one, you haven’t been out of the shack since summer started,” she said sincerely, “and two, because I don’t want to go alone!”

“Can’t you go with Candy or Grenda?” Dipper continued stubbornly, making it obvious that he really didn’t want to get out of bed.

“They’re both out of town,” Mabel said looking down, “And! I wanna go with you, dip-dop!” She finished happily, trying her best to convince her brother.

Dipper sighed heavily and very loudly, “Fine.”

Mabel jumped from the excitement and started cheering.

“Just please take a shower,” Mabel said, reaching the door handle to go out of the bedroom, “and try to wear decent clothes.”

—

The twins arrived to the Northwest’s summer house, which wasn’t a surprise to Dipper; the Northwests probably owned an island. It was a little out of town, near a river and surrounded by the forest. There was loud music blasting from the inside of the house that could be heard almost miles away. 

“Mabel, I really don’t want to be here,” Dipper yelled, trying to talk louder than the music, but his sister still didn’t understand him well, so she just dismissed him and began to look for Pacifica and her other friends.

It was funny how Mabel and Pacifica were once rivals, as years passed, it looked like they were really becoming... close.

Soon enough, the twins found group of people sitting on a a circle, some on the floor, others on the couch, and others on chairs. The room was a lot more quieter than the center of the house, which was where the music was playing. Somehow, this room had some sort of soundproof walls that made the music a lot less loud. The room was a little old fashioned, but still really fancy. A chandelier hung from the ceiling, and there were a few doors around the room. It looked like a sort of living room and Dipper figured the doors probably lead to the bedrooms.

The people from the circle were obviously recognizable to Dipper, they were all either popular or troublemakers, or in some cases, both.

Dipper felt uneasy at the sight, his first thought was “run”, but when he looked over at Mabel, who was already sitting down next to Pacifica, he had nowhere else to go without looking awkward, for everyone in the room had eyes on him. So he just grabbed an empty chair and sat down a little outside the circle.

A particular blonde boy, whom Dipper recognized immediately, kept glancing over at him, making his stomach turn. 

“Lets play seven minutes in heaven!” Someone said suddenly, and there were immediate cheers in response.

Dipper’s heart raised, he had never been a participant in these types of “party games” as he, well, never really went to parties. Mabel had told him before what this particular game was about, and he was not a fan of it. He didn’t want to play, because with his luck, he knew he would be the first one picked by the bottle. 

The bottle was spun.

It didn’t land on Dipper. He was safe. For this round.

“We have three guest rooms!” said Pacifica joyfully as the first duo was picked and they closed one of the three doors, “Let’s spin the bottle two more times, so more people get picked!” 

Once again everyone cheered and the bottle spun.

Not Dipper.

He sighed, he only needed to survive one more time.

The bottle spun one last time.

“Fuck.”

Bill smirked as the bottle landed on him as well. Everyone went wild, not knowing what was going to happen, but eager to know.

“No!” Dipper exclaimed, his blood running cold. Bill got up from his seat and began to walk towards him, “I won’t do it.”

“Rules are rules,” Cipher continued, as smug as always.

Everyone started to demand and almost beg Dipper to stand up. And after a long debate with himself, he did.

They didn’t have to do anything behind that door, right?

— 

Bill carefully closed the door behind Dipper and locked it, leaving both of them in a classy, dim-lighted room.

“You do know, we’re not going to do anything here, right?” Dipper said, wishing Bill just dismissed him and sat down to wait for the seven minutes to be over. But of course, that didn’t happen.

“Who said that?” Cipher said, taking a step closer to the brunette, “I’m not going to waist a single minute.”

“Bill, with all sincerity, I don’t like you,” Dipper said, his words spilling out of his mouth before he could think, “you could almost say we mutually hate each other actually.” 

The blonde smirked again and took another step closer to the boy. Dipper could feel his breath on his skin, making heat rise to his face.

“That’s even better,” he took one more determined step forward, making Dipper hesitantly step back only to realize there was a wall behind him, leaving him with nowhere to escape. “Besides, this way you can stop pretending you don’t want to kiss me every time you see me.”

“I don’t—” Dipper began, but lips smacked against him. It happened all too fast, and he didn’t know what to do. He just knew one thing: he didn’t want it to stop. 

He kissed Bill back slowly, earning a soft noise of pleasure from the other boy. Dipper didn’t really have any experience with kissing, let alone making out, but it seemed like Bill did, so he just let Bill do whatever he was doing and follow his lead.

Bill began to gently flick his tongue on Dipper’s bottom lip. The brunette felt a thrill of satisfaction and slowly opened his mouth, enabling Bill’s tongue to slide inside his.

It was a completely new sensation to Dipper, an involuntary moan escaped his lips. He was embarrassed, but Bill seemed to be pleased by it. So in response, the blonde deepened the kiss. He pressed his body against Dipper’s, and grabbed him by the back of his neck, caressing his soft, brown hair. Dipper’s breathing became heavier, grabbing Bill by his waist and slipping his fingers under his white, button-down shirt.

Bill shivered when the boy’s cold fingers touched his back, but he loved the sensation. The blonde began to unbutton his own shirt, suddenly breaking the kiss. Dipper opened his eyes, not knowing what caused the interruption. When he noticed what Bill was doing, he felt the blush on his face increase abruptly. As Bill noticed him staring, he grinned and seductively licked his lips, causing Dipper’s breath to hitch. Then, Bill proceeded to take Dipper’s shirt off, to which the brunette was too lost in his eyes to think twice.

As soon as both shirts were on the floor, Bill resumed to kissing the boy in front of him, bodies pressed against each other. However, this time, Bill began to tease Dipper, filling him with anticipation. The blonde kissed the skin just beside his lips, some times more passionately than others. Next, he kissed his chin, his other cheek, he very lightly brush his lips against the boy’s; making both of them release hot breaths at each other’s faces. 

Then, the blonde began to lay soft kisses on the brunette’s face, starting on his lips, then right beside them, then further to the side, until he landed on his jawline. Once there, Bill began to make his kisses more wet and more passionate, making Dipper’s knees tremble. He softly bit his neck, making circles with his tongue on the spot right after. Then he began to suck on his pulse, planting some love bites here and there. The brunette moaned faintly, as he felt shivers down his back, grabbing onto Bill’s dirty blonde hair. And Bill liked that. He suddenly sucked harder, causing Dipper to inhale sharply and moan a little louder than before. That would definitely leave a mark. 

After that, Bill began to kiss his way down Dipper’s torso. The brunette was trying really hard not to squeal with pleasure. Bill’s rough hands were also caressing their way down his back, sometimes gently, sometimes a little more harshly. The kisses Bill planted on him were soft, some passionate, some hot. Either way, it was making Dipper squirm. 

Bill kisses were almost all the way down his stomach, he was about to reach Dipper’s jeans waist band, when there was a sudden knock on the door.

“Guys! The seven minutes are up!” Pacifica’s voice said through the other side of the door. 

It made the two boys stop abruptly. Bill stood up and regained his composure quite fast. A little too fast, for Dipper’s liking. But he figured it was probably because he was startled and hadn’t realized how far they had both gone in such a short amount of time. Anyway, Dipper straightened his back and reluctantly reached for his shirt. Bill had almost finished buttoning his own white shirt, his cocky smile and posture returning.

And with his iconic grin and his breath still hot on Dipper’s face, the blonde said, “I guess we’ll finish this another time.”

[littlemonstersau-blog]

The Feels Awaken, Interlude: Attack of the Clonesuit

Written by @jkl-fff, illustrated by me

PART I  - PART II [Interlude] (you are here) - PART III

————————————————————————————–

Ford, leafing listlessly through notes: … Suppose I could go out and look more into this anomaly … or that one, any of them, really —anything’d be better than just sitting here … moping. Yes, moping, that’s really what I’m doing right now. All that I’m doing right now. Moping … [sighs heavily, stands up and paces around room aimlessly; roving eyes land on a shelf of scientific glassware with several empty decanters among them; swallows drily] Damn, a drink would really hit the spot right about now … Gah, no! How pathetic can I be, wanting a drink now, after decades of sobriety! Still wanting a drink at all, just because … just because I’m missing the kids … Damn it, man, pull yourself together! [takes off glasses with one hand, slaps self with other] Are you a scientist or a sentimentalist?! [slaps self again] Focus on your intellect! [slaps self a third time] They’ll be back here soon enough to visit for Fall Break, you can look forward to that, so stop all this … this sniveling! [resumes pacing] … Gah, that Demon’ll probably sour their visit for me, too. Just like he’s soured everything else in my life of late … Besides, he’s already had too much influence over them as is, and them coming back risks him gaining even more of one; would be far, far better if they never came within 100 miles of him ever again … I can … I can go to them, anyway. Stan and I. We can go down to Piedmont and see them safely that way, or … or I can call or use that skyelp program just about any evening … Yes … Yes … So no more of this sniveling and moping and such …

Bill, through the elevator intercom: Hey, Stanford?! I’m coming down now, so … uh, put away the crossbow and the dirty magazines! Haha … ha … um, yeah …Th-that was just a joke, by the way! Except for the part about the crossbow, obviously, ‘cause I would appreciate it if you put that away instead of putting a bolt in this vessel! So, um … yeah, here I come! (79 Hells, that was awkward …)

Ford, muttering and jumping back to desk: Grrr! Now?! Pigcrap fucksnorkel, this is the last thing I need right now! [sits in an exaggeratedly nonchalant pose; turns and glares as Bill steps out of the elevator] What is it, Cipher, can’t you see I’m very busy?

Bill, holding up two cans of Pitt: Thought you might, I dunno, like something cold to drink? [sets one can down on the desk]

Ford: … Why are you wearing a sock puppet?

Bill, shrugging: I could ask you the same thing.

Ford: No, you couldn’t.

Bill: Sure, I could. It wouldn’t make sense, but I could. [cracks open own drink, takes a sip] So, um, how you doin’?

Ford: You still haven’t answered my question.

Bill, shielding his mouth with non-puppet hand, whispering: He just showed up on his own, and I can’t get him to leave no matter how many hints I drop.

Ford, turning away: A feeling I relate to on a deep, spiritual level. [pretends to resume reviewing notes]

Bill: Now you still haven’t answered my question. How you doin’?

Ford: … Tired. And getting more and more tired with every second I spend in your company. So I repeat, what is it? What do you want?

Bill, sighing, leaning against the desk: I just … wanna talk is all, I guess? It gets kinda lonely, y’know, without the Twins here. And I do know y’know about that.

Ford, hiding embarrassment: What are you implying?

Bill: C’mon, Ford. We all miss them. And, I dunno, that’s got me all sentimental about … [takes a deep breath, looks at Ford, lets himself be vulnerable] about other people I miss spending time with, too.

Ford, looking away: Yes, well, if you burn a bridge, you can’t really complain about not being able to cross back over again, can you?

Bill, through sock puppet: Bridges can be rebuilt, can’t they?

Ford: …

Bill, through sock puppet: Can’t they?

Ford: … Not some bridges. Now leave me alone, please, because I have a lot of work to do.

Bill, stiffening up: Fine, if that’s what you want. Sit down here and brood in the dark, ignoring all the people who’re concerned about your health and happiness.

Ford: Pff, right! Sure, you are.

Bill: I am, though! I’m concerned about your health! So are Stan, Soos and Melody, and the Twins would be, too, if they could see you like this—Mabel and Dipper!

Ford: I’m fine, Cipher. You don’t know what you’re talking about.

Bill: Me and Stan’re especially concerned about you, I think. Prob’ly ‘cause we know you the best.

Ford, reddening: I asked you nicely to leave me alone once already. I won’t ask nicely again.

Bill, through sock puppet while stomping towards exit: I guess you would know about burning bridges, right? I mean, you’ve been slowburning a bunch of ‘em lately, haven’t you?

Ford, raising his voice: What’s that supposed to mean?

Bill, through sock puppet: How many years d’you spend missing your brother so much it ached, huh? I mean, you had me play him in your fantasies hundreds of times—literally. 872 times with him as a major character by my count over the years we spent together! [whirls around at the elevator door and points, which looks especially accusing and grotesque coming through a hand puppet] Yet, even though he’s back, you won’t even enjoy your time with him just ‘cause I’m around!? Just ‘cause he doesn’t spit and hiss at the sight of me like a Vampire at sunlight?! You murmur and grumble and carry on and act … act mean and bitter at him for that?! Well, Fordsy, if that ain’t slowburning a bridge, I don’t know what is!

Ford, stung: Y-you … Shut up, Cipher.

Bill, pointing petulantly at the sock: It’s not me. It’s him. [speaking through the sock again] And you’re doing it to everyone else! Including the Twins!

Ford, on his feet: Get. Out. Now.

Bill, whirling on his heel: We’re already gone! [storms back into the elevator and upstairs with it]

Ford, covering face to contain fury: That little, monocular— No, Stanford. D-don’t let him get to you … fffff … Don’t let … that smart-talking shitass—No, d-don’t … fffff … don’t … [eyes land on decanters again; desire for a drink spikes, which makes fury explode inside of him] Graaaaargh! [stomps over, seizes first decanter, hurls it at wall; it shatters] That greasepainted, crap-piling, illuminati fuck hat and [hurls second decanter at wall; it shatters] cyclopes poseur in a mustache-twirled, pan-licking ass wad [hurls third decanter at wall; it shatters] of a grephew’s face-stealing TURD BREATH! [stands huffing and puffing for a moment; leans against wall, slides down until sitting on floor, buries face in hands]

Ford, eventually beginning to calm down: Says he’s “concerned about my health and happiness”—pah!—right … Heard that one before, haven’t I?

[remembers from more than 30 years ago …

Bill, inside Ford’s mind: Uh, you sure this is a good idea?

Ford, scaling an improvised novi-wave receiver: Sure! *cough* Why do you ask?

Bill: Let’s just say I’m concerned for your health and wellbeing.

Ford, shifting a bag of materials, climbing higher: Huh. What for? I’m not *cough cough* sick at all.

Bill: Only ‘cause of the major storm—strong winds, pounding rain, and constant lightning—raging around you while you climb up a structure made of conductive metals that doesn’t have a lot of really solid hand and footholds for your gravity-bound meatbag.

Ford, laughing: Oh, that! Don’t worry, this’ll only take another *cough cough* minute or two.

[lightning cracks nearby]

Ford, still laughing: Whoa! Haha! That one was close! [foot slips on wet metal; catches self] Whoops! Heh, clumsy me … Better hurry up! *cough*

Bill, obviously worried: Y’know what? I think you should just leave it for now. Wait until the storm clears, do something about that wet cough like … like have some ginger tea!

Ford: The forecast said it’s *cough* to continue all week. If I *cough* don’t fix this now, we’ll lose all that work time.

Bill: Yeah, but if you fall and break one of your fleshsticks, we’ll lose even more time. Assuming a fall doesn’t, y’know, do worse. Like kill you. Also, you getting pneumonia is a thing that could cause us to lose even more time.

Ford, dismissively: It’s fine. I’ll be fine. *cough*

Bill, almost desperately: Hey, know what? Not being able to work the rest of this week might be an okay thing! Like, you could take a break. Relax a little, get several full nights’ sleep. Eat a few square meals at regular times with all that nutrient stuff you meatbags need, stave off scurvy and other illnesses you could catch as a result of skipping meals and sleep. Doesn’t that sound like fun? We could even have extra play sessions in your mindscape! Eh? Eh?!

Ford, tempted: You’re a *cough cough* good friend, Bill, but I need to concentrate on this right now.

comes out of his memory …]

Ford, sitting in the lab: Heh … I did fall in the end. Didn’t break anything, just got the wind knocked out of me and was bruised for a bit, but still … Was that when Cipher first recommended I get an assistant? Someone who’d help me build his infernal portal? [sighs, admits] No, I thought an assistant could help me build the portal. Cipher said I needed one to stop me “dying like an idiot during monster hunts” and make me “perform basic self-care for meatbags” from day to day. I was the one who thought it could be someone to help with the portal. [face turning red with shame] I … It was me who made the Electron Carpet to try to switch him— Fiddleford, someone I dared call a f-friend—with Cipher … That was entirely me … When I suggested we use it for that, he actually told me it was a terrible idea—told me Fiddleford was there to help keep my “moments of near suicidal dumbassery in check” and ease my workload, not increase both of them … [chuckles incredulously] That was the first time Cipher and I ever had an argument … He said he was worried about me, and the thing I invented the most was new ways to make him worry …

[remembers the argument, which ended with both of them screaming “FUCK YOU!” at each other in different voices until it stopped being angry and started being hilarious …

remembers flashes from times he and Bill worked together, succeeded together, advanced SCIENCE! together …

remembers flashes from times he and Bill laughed together, played together, bonded together, had so much fun together …

remembers flashes from times he and Bill spent inside Ford’s mindscape, and how good it felt to relive his memories of better times, to play out all his wild fantasies …]

Ford, resting head against wall, gazing at dark ceiling: Cipher’s not … not the only one who misses spending time with … other people … who misses the old days … And—Moses!— I’m so, so tired from always being on guard … from always reminding myself what he really is … what he’s done, what he could do if he got the chance … So tired from always keeping myself angry and bitter … from always stoking this animosity … So tired from always pitting myself against him … Well, against everyone else, too … [heaves self upright and dusts off coat; rubs temples; sighs heavily] Could I be entirely wrong about Bill? Is it really possible he has changed, and I’m just being a stubborn, old fool? Am I making everyone else … Am I making myself unhappy for no real reason? [sighs heavily again] Not the first time I’ve asked that question, and the answer’s the same as always. I can’t afford to take that chance—this whole dimension can’t afford for me to take that chance. And it’s selfish of me to even consider it, given the stakes … What’re my desires and my health and my personal happiness against the safety of this whole dimension for the rest of eternity? And … what’s the happiness of my family, even? [shakes head woefully] I want to believe Bill, but he has conned me before … Besides, he’s immortal; he can afford to play a long game, just wait until I die or waver … That’s why I can’t give in. I just can’t … ever …

[sound from overhead like heavy objects being rearranged]

Ford, flopping into chair at desk: Fffffuck, I wish … I wish there was a solution to this dilemma … a way to untie this Gordian Knot … More than anything in the world … [picks up Pitt, cracks it open, takes a swig; eventually looks at pile of shattered decanters] That’s going to be a bitch to clean up …

Stan, through the basement intercom: Poindexter, you down here? I’m comin’ down, so get out the crossbow and the dirty magazines! [takes elevator down to the lab, notices pile of broken glass and Ford’s drained expression] Yeesh, what happened here? You try playin’ jenga with champagne flutes, or something?

Ford, sighing: … Had a … a temper tantrum, guess you’d say. Threw all the old decanters against the wall because they reminded me how badly I want a drink sometimes.

Stan: Well, darn. We could’ve sold those; some of ‘em were really nice crystal … But, more importantly, you feelin’ better?

Ford, taking a reflective sip of Pitt: … Not really, no. I loathe how much, even now, even still, sometimes I want a drink more than anything in the world … Makes me feel like … like …

Stan, walking up to rub his shoulders: Yeah?

Ford: Like nothing’s changed—maybe more like I haven’t changed— not really, even after everything … Mmm, that feels good, Stanly …

Stan: I can understand the feelin’, Sixer … Some days … Well, some days are just bad days. Some days, all the crap from the past tumbles outta the closet in your head, and there’s nothin’ much you can do about it. [leans down, lightly kisses top of his brother’s head] But there’s also nothin’ wrong with takin’ some time off from all the crap, either, on those days.

Ford: Yeah?

Stan: Yeah. I been thinkin’ we could use some time off. All of us. Chance to disconnect and decompress from day-to-day life, y’know. We should do a movie day—just spend the rest of today together watchin’ some far out flicks, not worryin’ ‘bout anything in particular. Whaddya say, Sixer?

Ford, wavering: All of us, you said? Well … [sighs] Yeah, sure, okay. Why the heck not? What’re we watching?

[steampunk-magicalgirl]

Mason Pines and the revival of a maffia

The city of Portland, Oregon has always been strange. But with pro-nats rallying in the streets and the supernatural population constantly fearing for their lives the tension has never been higher!

The city needs the dinner crew, but the dinner crew is currently inactive.

It's time to do something about that!

(yet another transcendence au fic lol) 

on ao3

´´BAN ALL THE MONSTERS! BAN ALL THE MONSTERS! BAN ALL THE MONSTERS!´´

She tightened her grip on the pole and held the sign up higher, the sound of sirens in the distance drowned out by the people all around her screaming.

´´BAN ALL THE MONSTERS! BAN ALL THE MONSTERS!´´

Warm bodies pressing closer to her own, she attempted to take a step forward, only to be pushed back by the behind of a large man slamming into her.

´´BAN ALL THE MONSTERS! BAN ALL THE MONSTERS!´´

Something seemed to be forcing the line of people back, in the split second that the man in front of her stepped aside she managed to catch a glimpse of several police officers decked out in heavy protection gear and wielding shields forcefully pushing her line of protesters back. Swept along with the sea of people, she struggled to stay on her feet as one of the protesters raised a small object up in the air and tossed it.

´´BAN ALL THE MONSTERS! BAN ALL THE MONSTERS!´´

Eyes tearing up, she struggled to take a deep breath as gas filled the air around her. People were pushing from all sides now, desperate to get away, but nobody able to see a damn thing! She could feel her chest tightening and heart beating faster as she threw her sign on the ground and started frantically trying to push her way through the sea of fleeing people.

´´BAN ALL THE MONSTERS! BAN ALL THE MONSTERS!´´

After what felt like forever, but what was in reality probably only about a minute, her outstretched hands finally made contact with a cold concrete wall. Following the wall she soon found herself stumbling blindly into an alley. She sank to the ground almost immediately, trying to calm down and catch her breath while rubbing furiously at her eyes.

Well, this was a catastrophe. At least dad didn’t know that she had gone here, he’d no doubt freak out once the gassing incident reached the news. Now she just had to make her way home and pretend that this never happened, maybe that she’d been out with a friend.  

A hand grabbed her from behind.

Fuck.

 *

 Robert Pines had been having a great day so far. The sun was shining, bird were singing, and all the bills had been payed on time, so yes, all in all a great day. That was, until the police came in with his daughter in handcuffs.

´´You sure are lucky miss. If you’d been anyone else you’d be spending the night in a jail cell.´´

´´Thank you so much for bringing her home then officer. I  promise that this won’t happen again,´´

´´hmph´´ the officer reluctantly uncuffed and handed over Robert’s daughter, before he turned around and headed out the door. Once the police were gone, Robert turned all his attention to the sulking teenager in front of him

´´I can’t believe you Mason! You should know better than to put yourself in danger like that!´´

´´…sorry,´´ Mason said quietly ´´it wasn’t that bad though,´´

´´Not that bad? You literally just came home in handcuffs! ´´

´´Yeah, unfair isn’t it? Doesn’t it make you mad-´´

´´Mason,´´

´´- it wasn’t me who should have been wearing them, those pro-nats -´´

´´Mason! Listen to me!´´ the girl went quiet, but kept her gaze focused on Robert ´´Thank you. Now, stop trying to change the subject and think for a second. I may not agree with their ideology, but what those people were doing was completely lawful – ´´

´´you mean trying to ban innocent people from existing?´´ Mason mumbled angrily, but Robert chose to ignore her

´´  - and anyone could have figured out that just waltzing up there and screaming in their faces would have ended badly.´´

´´but-´´

´´No buts! You’re grounded for the rest of the week, now go to your room!´´ Mason shot Robert a look of pure disbelief before she turned on her heels and marched angrily towards the stairs. Before she went up them though, she stopped on the bottom step and turned once more to face her dad

´´What a great Don you are. You’re not even trying to protect your own crew members.´´ Robert didn’t say anything, Mason didn’t either, they just held each others gaze for a few seconds longer than necessary before the girl turned around again and finally made her way up the staircase.    

Robert let out a heavy sigh and sat down on the living room couch.

Protect your own crewmembers, sometimes Robert really worried that Mason was taking the whole dinner crew thing to seriously. Yes, he had hear the stories, and yes, he knew exactly what the organization had been like in it’s glory days, but that was hundreds of years ago! Right now, the dinner crew was just a little more than an urban legend, giving the Pines family a special place in the eyes of the law and some level of respect from Portland’s oldest citizens but nothing more, and Robert fully intended to keep it that way. With things being the way they were, the world didn’t need more vigilantes roaming the streets.

If only his daughter could understand that.

  *

  Mason wasn’t angry at her dad. Sitting at her desk, scrolling aimlessly through social media, she knew that she should probably be more upset about the whole thing. Oh she was upset with the police for arresting her and taking the actual offenders side, she was angry at the protester who’d thrown that damn gas bomb at them and ruined everything, but dad? Dad meant well, he really did. And she knew that he was just doing his best to look out for her but really, she was almost 18, she could take care of herself! Dad should be more concerned with the preternaturals that the pro-nats were threatening. Wasn’t it the dinner crew’s job to protect them? Wasn’t that why her great-great-something grandpa had founded it in the first place? So no, Mason wasn’t angry but she was… disappointed. She liked another cat picture on her screen, and kept thinking. Dad really had to start taking his job as the Don more seriously. Sure, he insisted that there wasn’t much for him to do, with the crew having been very inactive for years now, but couldn’t that just be because no one had tried to put it back together yet? Really, how hard could it be, Mason bet that even she could do it!

Hey, maybe she should do it! Now would be a good time, right? But how would she manage to do that? Dad would certainly not approve, let alone help her. And Mason had no contact whatsoever with already existing members, not to mention that most of them had left Portland long ago. No, Mason needed help if she was really going to pull this of, the question was who would be able to help her…

 *

 The answer came to her 3 weeks later, while working on her personal project of compiling the family tree. She had already made it as far back as great-great-something grandpa Hank’s branch, and there she had noticed a bit of an… oddity. Namely, her g-grandpa’s old documents almost all contained mentions of an uncle. Someone who, according to every official record, should have been long dead and gone at the time of g-grandpa’s birth. And yet, here Hank was talking and writing about him as if though he’d known him personally. This piqued Mason’s interest, and the deeper she dug into it, the more she managed to find, until she was almost certain that she could link this mysterious uncle to another unexplained yet prominent figure in the family’s history.

Alcor.

It felt right. Even though all her internet searches had turned up nothing noteworthy when looking more into it Mason felt confident that she’d reached the right answer. Alcor was a Pines, and even better, Alcor had apparently been friends with Hank, aka the original Don Pines. Meaning that he’d at some point been involved with the dinner crew, meaning that any and all of the oldest members most likely knew him! Alcor was the person Mason needed to make this plan happen, no doubt about it.

She just needed to find a good way to talk to him.

 *

 He hadn’t planned to answer this summoning at first. The summoner had used a very basic circle, and the sacrifice used was nothing more than a half-eaten candy bar. Such a sloppy summoning was rarely done seriously, and the few times that they were well… what could a person with no means to find a better sacrifice than their own leftovers possibly have to offer him? However, this one felt different. Something about the feeling he got from the tugging at his being told Dipper that he’d better answer this one, so he went to have a look. He went to have a look, and was pleasantly surprised at the sight of his nephew’s current incarnation standing with her hands resting on her hips and a smug smile on her face in front of him. Still, Dipper didn’t know this person, better to play it safe.

´´W̢҉͜H̀̀͢O̷ ͟͡͞D̶͢A̛͟R̵̢͝E̷̛S ̸̡҉S͏U҉͏͘M̸̨̨M̴̷͟ON҉ AL͜C̢O͠R̡̀̕ T̵H̢E̵͏ ͝D͜RÈ̷A͜͠M̕͘B̧E̸N̡̡D̴E̴̛R?̢͞҉´´  

´´Greetings Alcor. Or should I maybe say, hi uncle Dipper?´´ a cold shiver ran down Dipper’s none existing spine, but he was careful as to not let the surprise show on his face. Did she know? How? She shouldn’t be able to remember, and while her aura emitted a sense of slight familiarity towards him, it was nowhere near the level that one would expect from a child that they’d practically helped raise. His surprise must have still shown though, because the girl grinned. ´´I’m right aren’t I? You really are Dipper Pines! I knew it!´´ Dipper raised an eyebrow and peered suspiciously at the girl.

´´… w̧h̷o ar̕e y̨o̴u͡?´´

´´Sorry, how rude of me.´´ the girl made a move to extend her hand, but seemed to think better of it and opted to give a little wave instead ´´Mason Pines, nice to meet you!´´ internally, Dipper laughed. She was a Pines! Of course! She was a Pines and her name was Mason! Externally though, he recovered from the surprise as best he could and tried to keep the mask on a little longer, because this may have been one of his niblings (in more ways than one apparently), but she was still a person that Dipper hadn’t met before. And she’d used one of his more well known circles, not the family one, so he doubted she’d summoned him just to hang out. Not to mention that it had been years since he’d last interacted with this particular branch of the family.

…it couldn’t hurt to be a little friendly though.

´´ Mason Pines huh? Well then, girl who shares my name, what can I do for you?´´ Mason’s face lit up a little as Dipper confirmed her theory, then it quickly darkened.

´´I need your help with something, but first I need to confirm something,´´

´´Oh? And what would that be?´´

´´How well do you know the dinner crew?´´      

[mcraked-blog]

resume.

Halston sage, (she), bisexual. did you hear ? Pacifica Northwest, a ( canon) character in ( Gravity Falls ), went deviant 9 years ago ! now she’s a 22 y/o waitress. people either think she is SNOOBY and PRIDEFUL or BRAVE and LOYAL but associate her w/Money, luxury, the forest, mini-golf, sense of fashion, and defiance either way. they DO remember pulling down the lever to let the town in to the Northwest manor ( Paz, she/her,ctm.) 

Pacifica Elise Northwest is the most popular girl in Gravity Falls and great-great granddaughter of supposed town founder Nathaniel Northwest who for her entire life was brought up to use her family's high status to treat others poorly.

YOU WERE RIGHT ABOUT ME... I’M JUST ANOTHER LINK IN THE WORLD’S WORST CHAIN!

BIRTHDAY: July 4th

ROMANTIC ORIENTATION: Pansexual

SEXUAL ORIENTATION: Bisexual

LANGUAGES: English || French

OCCUPATION: Student || Popular girl in town

physical traits

NOTABLE PHYSICAL TRAITS: Dark blue eyes

EYE COLOUR: Dark Blue

HAIR COLOUR: Blonde

BODY BUILD: Petite and delicate.

TATTOOS: None

PIERCINGS: None

personality

INTELLIGENCE: 8/10

TEMPERAMENT: 7/10

LIKES: Llamas, Mini-golf, being set apart from the other Northwests, being the best, Sev'ral Timez, hot pink, ponies, videogames, rpg Dipper Pines

DISLIKES: Losing, the pits in Pitt Cola, being wrong, her family's negative history, Mabel's silliness, being called a fake

VICES: None

CHARACTER TRAITS: Decided, calculative, interested, manipulative, popular, elegant, refined.

relationships

PARENTS: Preston Northwest (Father) || Priscilla Northwest (Mother)

SIBLINGS: None

CHILDREN: None

FRIENDS: Dipper Pines and Mabel Pines

ENEMIES: Bill Cipher, her parents.

PETS: Princess (Golden Retriever female dog) || Kiki (Chiken) || Pear & Amethyst (Ponies)

Get to know Gravity fall’s princess! (Pre-deviancy bio)

Pacifica Elise Northwest  was stuck-up, egotistical, sarcastic, arrogant, snotty, and mean. She was a stereotypical popular blonde girl, having money, style, and talent, feeling like a diva and looking down badly on "weirdos".

Her parents spoiled her and seemed to encourage her behavior which had greatly affected her psyche, to the point of valuing what her parents drive into her: money, winning and looks. In her youth Pacifica was taught only looks and money are important by changing the story of the 'Ugly duckling' and ripping the pages where the duckling was abandoned and lost by it's looks alone, this lead her to become inredibly shallow and superficial, which is also despicted by how she styles her hair excesively and uses more make up than a girl her age should have when she was 13, due her strict education and isolation from other common children Pacifica posseses a certain naivety in regards to common acts of kindness such as sharing, or even actions that are unfitting of the upper class such as eating in the car.

During the events of Northwest party on her 13 years it was revealed she acted the way she did because her parents keep her in line with their tight standards on what being a Northwest entails using negative Pavlovian behavioral conditioning combined with abuse of some sort, to which Pacifica was always forced to obey despite her objection.

Even taking this in consideration she made a breakthrough by setting herself aside from the other Northwests, displaying altruistic traits. When her parents tried to dissuade she ignored them and it lead to a complete change of heart towards everyone and becoming a friend to the common folk of the town and the Pines family. Later on she faced the ‘end of the normal world’ in Gravity falls by the entity of the dream real (demon) Bill Cipher becoming one of the few survivors.

After loosing all her money to Weirdmageddon she started working with Lazy Susan during her school breaks.

The lost princess of an unexistent town (Post deviancy-verse)

It was on her 14th birthday when she realized something was off, days seemed to go on eternally. Wake, do yoga, wash, make up, eat, school, come home, dinner, wash, repeat. 

Wake, do yoga, wash, make up, eat, school, come home, dinner, wash, repeat.

Wake, do yoga, wash, make up, eat, school, come home, dinner, wash, repeat.

A blink... the presence of something in her dreams, laughing at her, laughing at her sense of dread and boredom everyday, as if the knowing eye was aware of something she wasn’t and he found it hilarious. She sometimes would have a strong sense of Deja Vu take over her, looking at her phone everyday became an habit.

September 2. 

Wake, do yoga, wash, make up, eat, school, come home, dinner, wash, repeat.

What day it was? Had it been monday forever? She hated mondays... the laughs in her head were stronger each time she wondered why she felt so bored, so... tired of things that she had not seen or experienced yet, something invisible would pull her... to act against  her better judgement to do something out of the norm... anything that would make this sense of dread dissapear. It started of with a text, she sent it with trembly hands and felt anxious the whole day, as if she had done something out of line... as if some unknown entity would come and ring the bells to punish her.

[Text ; Dipper Pines] : Hey dork... don’t get excited or anything I messaged you, I just have a doubt... how long has it been since you left Gravity falls?

Nothing happened... in fact... she had sent nothing and when she realized she had awareness of sending something that never had come to be, a light came and she was out... when she woke, she was a lonely child in a place she wouldn’t recognize alone from the madness of Gravity falls and in to a greater one, because she couldn’t find any of the people she knew... she was alone.

Reaching Blue creek

After her deviancy Pacifica kept most of the memories from her life as an animated character, save the apocalypsis brought by the demon Bill Cipher which she forgot on a self defense mechanism to not face the horrid nightmares that would keep her awake at night, however to this day she would find him and the horrors he brought on her mind, waking aggitated without remembering a thing.

She was taken to a foster home in Blue creek by the authorities when she showed them the paper with it’s name, having them believe she was a lost and very imaginative child talking about an unexistent town on Oregon (which she would call: Gravity falls) and an unexistent famous rich family (the Northwests). She grew up to the majority of age, not being adopted due her difficult attitude and snooby manners, eventually she was out and seeked a work as waitress in a bar where she works from 6 to 6, while keeping her studies in mornings.

Not being trusted as a child has made Pacifica very unwilling to share her past and she tries to keep her thoughts about the past hidden, pretending she has always lived in Blue creek and lost her parents in an accident, however the more time passes the more she needs someone to partake her insecurities to. 

OUR FAMILY NAME IS BROKEN AND I'M GONNA FIX IT!!

Will she kept on a facade to a woman who was left alone due unfortunate circumstances or will she seek the truth of what has happened to her and how it did?

[marypsue]

Something Borrowed, Something Blues 7 / ?

Part One / Part Two / Part Three / Part Four / Part Five / Part Six / Part Seven / Part Eight / ?

So I have to apologise for the unannounced, unexpected month-and-a-half hiatus. I found out by trial and error (mostly error) that I can’t consistently update two longfics while also consistently working on a novel. I’m going to finish this and Imbalance, but after that, I’m planning to take a step back from fic to focus more on my original fiction. I hope you’ll check out @katesummervsthemultiverse  if you’re interested in what I’ve been getting up to!

I’m also on AO3 as MaryPSue!

...

The first thing that caught the eye, entering Gravity Falls, were the cliffs.

It had been true in 2012 and it was true now, a little over a thousand years later. The valley in which the town nestled sloped gently downwards, only to abruptly terminate in a towering wall of rock. The cliffs loomed over the valley like enormous sentinels, keeping watch over everything that lay before them. One of the huge outcroppings of bare stone that hung over the valley had lost its top, a chunk of rock almost the size of the town itself sliding off and crashing into the base of the opposite cliff, but the distinctive UFO shape could still be made out, if you knew what you were looking for.

Gravity Falls had changed too much, and not at all. 

The landmarks that Dipper remembered, like the cliffs, had all been weathered or beaten or even completely broken down by the inexorable passage of time, the one force in the universe that even he couldn't overcome. And yet, when you looked at them with an eye that knew what they once had been, it was impossible to miss the way the new still wrapped itself around the bones of the old.

The borders of the town had sprawled out into the encroaching forest (and fought some pitched battles to do so), but at its core it remained the same small town Dipper remembered. The people, if the handful of locals he'd run into since arriving could be considered statistically significant, hadn't stopped being quirky and full of personality - and almost preternaturally unobservant. The original building housing Stanley Pines Memorial Library of the Supernatural had long ago disappeared into the forest's depths, but the town was still a go-to for scholars of the supernatural. The storefronts had changed, probably hundreds of times, but the layout of the streets in the centre of town were the same. Dipper could stroll through the town core with his eyes closed, and only have to worry about cars and hovercraft and the occasional pedestrian. 

He wasn't closing his eyes on this particular walk through downtown, though. He had a breadcrumb trail to follow.

The path that Mira had taken into the woods was clear, bright as a trail of searchlights leading down the street from the hotel and out to the edge of town. They were getting closer and closer to the cliffs, Dipper noticed uneasily. He very, very gently let his ‘Tyrone’ disguise slip another few notches, just enough to see the world through a few more senses humans didn’t have.

Mira’s trail flared to brilliant life before him, a rainbow of glittering colours the height of a human trailing down the street. Dipper breathed out, long and slow, when he didn’t see any traces of yellow or gold hanging around it. There was a thread of brighter green twining its way around the rainbow, a little like ivy, but it didn’t smell of Bill.

He could have seen more, of course, if he’d been able to shuck the human suit altogether, but -

“How can you tell which way she went?” Sun-mi...’complained’ wasn’t the right word. Maybe ‘demanded’ was closer. “I don’t see anything but street.”

“I think my senses are probably a little better than yours,” Dipper muttered, not particularly caring if Sun-mi heard him. It wasn’t all that unusual for someone to look human and not be, or to look human and not be entirely. He’d found over the years that it was much easier to misdirect people into thinking he was a different, more benign supernatural entity than he actually was, rather than trying to convince them that he was 100% authentic hand-squeezed human. 

Of course, he wouldn't have had to bother pretending anything if the only one of Mira's friends who didn't know about him hadn't insisted on coming along, but - fine. This was fine. He probably wouldn’t have been able to stay behind and let somebody else handle things if his best friend was mysteriously missing either, even if anyone else could have found Mira in the first place. Or, at least, found her trail, which was the problem. 

Dipper should have known exactly where Mira was. Her soul belonged to him, for Pete’s sake! He could always find her!

The fact that right now, all he could find was her trail did not exactly give him confidence in his decision to let - to help her come to Gravity Falls. He'd let his own nostalgia blind him to all the red flags. He'd thought, irrationally, that they'd be safe here. That Gravity Falls, despite all evidence to the contrary, wouldn't let anything happen to Mizar. He'd thought - 

Well, it didn't matter what he'd thought. Because he'd thought wrong. 

And now Mira was missing and it was all his fault.

"Werewolf?" Sun-mi asked, a trace of interest breaking through the irritable worry in her voice. It took Dipper a moment to backtrack far enough in his train of thought to figure out what she was talking about.

"Kind of a personal question, don't you think?"

"Are there any questions I could ask to learn more about you that aren't personal?" Sun-mi shot back. "How did you and Mira meet? How long have you known each other? Why hasn't she ever mentioned you? Who are you, anyway?"

"Not a werewolf," Dipper muttered, turning back to the trail.

...

The path ahead of Mira brightened slowly, from dark to dim grey to rosy, dappled with bright spots of gold where the sun slipped through the endless trees. The curious hush of the sleeping town was slowly but inexorably filling with birdsong. It was getting closer to morning the deeper she wandered into the woods.

Maybe she should have turned back the moment she'd realised the sun was starting to rise. Everyone would be worried - she hadn't left a note. 

Even as the thought crossed her mind, though, her feet still carried her forwards, the soft patter of her bare soles against the packed earth never faltering. Something swelled strange and fierce and triumphant in her chest, even as she ducked to avoid an overhanging branch. She wasn't sure if she remembered why, but - let them worry about her a little. She'd done enough worrying, for what felt like far too long, and the woods were peaceful and calm.

And welcoming.

...

The line between town and trees seemed weirdly abrupt.

Ian stared at it distrustfully. It stared distrustfully right back. If a solid wall of dark green could have a facial expression, he'd say it looked smug.

It absolutely wasn't frightening. Ian wasn't scared to go in.

"You're sure she's in there?" he asked, and Alcor - 'Tyrone' - grimaced.

"I'm sure she went in there." 'Tyrone's' eyes flicked over to meet Ian's, and Ian caught the unspoken flicker of worry in his expression. It was the opposite of reassuring.

"Then we're going in there too," Ian said, and started forward. Nobody tried to stop him, and he reached the treeline in only a few steps.

The pines and spruce towered overhead, like the walls of some huge fortress. A breeze eddied past, carrying the fresh scent of greenery, and for reasons he couldn't explain to save his life, a shiver danced up the back of Ian's neck. 

Somewhere above him, where the treetops took jagged bites out of the blue overhead, a crow's coughing cackle mocked Ian's bravado. Go on, then, it seemed to be saying. If you're so tough.

Ian gritted his teeth and stepped into the shadow of the trees. And then took one more step, into the forest.

The moment he lost sight of the sun behind the evergreens, it was as if he'd stepped into a cave. The air around him turned cold, the summer heat he'd taken for granted fizzling away into the cool, green, underwater dimness of the woods. The light shifted, shimmering through the trees and picking up a pale greenish hue as it fell. Even the background noise of the town seemed suddenly muted, like someone had turned the volume most of the way down. Ian had never been particularly outdoorsy, but he was pretty sure the entire atmosphere around him wasn't supposed to change that fast.

He turned, half-expecting to find himself alone, with only miles and miles of forest stretching out behind him, as far as he could see. But there was Gravity Falls, just the same as it had been half a second ago when he'd walked into the trees. Alcor was just a step behind him, Rosa and Sun-mi trailing a little further behind.

"This way," Alcor said, passing Ian and pointing them towards a bend in the path. Sun-mi hurried after him, dogging his heels, while Rosa slowed to wait for Ian.

"Doin' all right there?"

Ian managed a grimace that might, in the right light, be mistaken for a grin. "Don't worry about me. We've got a Mira to find."

"You know that don't make me worry any less, right?" Rosa said, looping her arm through Ian's and all but dragging him after her.

"There's just something creepy about these woods. Something more than just the fact that they apparently ate my fiancée," Ian admitted. "I feel like something's watching us."

Rosa jerked a thumb over her shoulder, to where a pointy red hat was just visible in the undergrowth.

"Ha ha," Ian said, yanking his arm back from Rosa. Or trying to, anyway. Her grip was like iron.

"Beale -" Rosa started, but Ian cut her off.

"Rose, please, I asked you to stop calling me that."

Rosa recoiled, looking stung, and then scowled. "All right. I'm sorry for that. But I'm just tryin' ta help -"

"Yeah, like you helped last time?" Ian muttered, and Rosa's scowl deepened.

"Fine. Be a miserable cuss if it makes ya feel better. But Mira's my friend too, an' I'm not sittin' round with my thumb up my ass whinin' while she's missing."

With that, she hurried ahead to catch up with the other two, leaving Ian alone with the feeling of eyes on his back.

...

"Changeling?"

Dipper paused, shut his eyes, and opened them again to a world overlaid with aura colours. Mira's trail was getting harder and harder to find in the layers of green, and somehow that worried him almost as much as the cave in the cliffs. Mira's trail should have been growing stronger as they got closer to the source, not fainter. True, they were in what was probably the most magical forest the world, but...

"What kind of changeling?" he asked. At least Sun-mi's incessant questions were a good distraction.

"Mm." Sun-mi was silent for a beat, surveying Dipper, which was not a good distraction. "Not troll, I don't think. Fey, maybe - I mean, you did just lure us all into the woods. I suppose there's also deal-born, though most of the deal-born meet unfortunate and ironic fates around puberty, it doesn't mix well with demon magic."

Dipper took a breath and let it out carefully, making sure it didn't sound too much like a sigh of relief. Mira's friend was just a shade too knowledgeable for comfort. Dipper was just lucky she'd been knowledgeable enough to talk herself out of getting too close to the truth.

"Not a changeling," he said, and paused. Ahead of him, the trail forked, and though he could still make out the vibrant colours of Mira's trail through the thick, cloying green of the forest's own magic, something made him stop and drop an arrow of gold light into the trampled-down earth and leafmould of the path, pointing back in the direction they'd come. It shone preternaturally bright in his second sight, but even as Dipper watched, that green crept in and around and over it, dimming its brilliance and dulling its sharp edges. Well, that probably wasn't good.

"Wizard?" Sun-mi asked. "I know they're not naturally gifted in the senses department, but there must be spells -"

"Sun-mi, A-Tyrone, how're we doing?" Rosa interrupted, throwing an arm companionably over Dipper's shoulder. Judging by the expression on Sun-mi's face, Rosa had done the same to her with the other arm. "Please tell me we're gettin' close."

"Hard to say," Dipper answered, grateful to have something to talk about other than magical-creature-twenty-questions. "You know how they say Gravity Falls is the most magical place on Earth? The town's got nothing on the woods. It's making it really hard to tell where Mira went or even how long ago she came through."

"The forest's magical field interferes with your tracking abilities?" Sun-mi said, and Dipper gave himself a sharp mental kick. "Interesting."

Rosa shot her a confused look, before turning back to Dipper. "That don't mean you can't find her, though, does it?"

Dipper wished he could take it as her being spoiled and demanding, and ignore the note of plaintive worry in her voice.

"I sure hope not," he muttered, and, before anyone else could ask any questions, plunged forward down the path where Mira's trail had gone.

...

The path, Mira noticed with interest, had all but disappeared under her feet. A soft, plush carpet of fallen leaves and moss cushioned her every step as she wound her way around the trees, brambles and low bushes almost seeming to curl back out of her way with every step. 

They were growing fewer and farther between, though, as the trees grew larger and farther apart. A vague memory from a long-ago science class told her that as she moved deeper into the forest, she was also moving back in time. These trees must have been here for hundreds, if not thousands, of years. Their branches arched overhead like the vaulted ceiling of an ancient cathedral, a reverent hush gathering among the enormous trunks.

Even without a path, Mira found, it was impossible to get lost. Her feet seemed to know where they wanted to wander, and she was content to follow them. 

It was strange. She'd left her hotel in the middle of the night to walk into the woods, without leaving a note or telling anyone where she was going, with no clear plan or destination in mind. And now it was morning, and she was still walking, into the very oldest depths of the most magical, least trustworthy forest on Earth. She could swear that the plants were moving to guide her and clear her way, and she had the faintest feeling that the movement she'd been seeing among the trees wasn't only birds and squirrels and gnomes.

And yet, she wasn't afraid. She wasn't even worried. That in itself might have worried her, but - how could it? She wasn't lost. She didn't exactly know where she was going, but her feet knew how to get there. And Dipper would always know where to find her. 

And the woods weren't frightening. In fact, much like the clearing they'd first arrived in, they felt - not friendly, maybe, but welcoming. Familiar. Like - like an older relative's house she'd visited lots when she was younger, well-known but still a little bit mysterious, but still safe, still comfortable. Almost, but not quite like...

Home.

...

The path Alcor had been leading them down had long ago faded into the underbrush. Ian's arms were scratched and bruised where he'd tried (with varying degrees of success) to push the brambles and bushes out of his way. He really hoped he didn't have any ticks embedded in his legs after all this tromping around in the brush, but he wasn't going to count on it. Rosa's petticoat had gotten so hopelessly snarled that they'd all had to stop and untangle her twice, and Sun-mi had finally conceded defeat and tucked her silky scarf away in her purse after it had caught on a branch and nearly strangled her.

"Can't you do something about this?" Ian grumbled to Alcor, once he was sure Sun-mi's attention was fixed on liberating her scarf.

"I'm trying," Alcor muttered back, turning to look at Ian, and Ian took a sharp step backwards before catching himself. 'Tyrone' looked terrible, pale as death but with a bright fever-spot of red on each cheek, and his eyes - they looked normal, at first glance, but when you were paying attention and knew what you were looking for, it was obvious that the yellowish cast to his skin was at least partly due to the glow coming off his eyeballs. "But it's fighting me."

"I thought you were the most powerful -" Ian started, his voice rising, but Alcor glanced pointedly over in Sun-mi's direction and Ian swallowed the rest of the sentence. "Are you saying this patch of trees is stronger than you are?"

"No! I'm saying the further in we get, the harder it is to keep this forest from doing what it really wants to do and just throwing us out!" Alcor reached up, like he was going to adjust the brim of a hat he wasn't wearing, then huffed out a frustrated sigh and ran his fingers up into his hair instead, grabbing a lock so that it stood up in all directions. "Okay, maybe that does mean this patch of trees is stronger than I am, but it was here before I was Al- was me, and it's had more practice!" His voice went suddenly small as he added, "Believe me, I'm doing everything I can."

Ian managed to bite back the complaint that had been lining up on his tongue, ready to spill out. It wasn't like he couldn't see that Alcor was trying. Or like he didn't know Alcor wanted to find Mira as much as or more than he did.

"Okay," he sighed. "Is there, I don't know, anything I can do to help?"

Alcor started to shake his head, and then stopped. "Actually, if you and Rosa can keep Sun-mi distracted so she stops trying to figure out what I am and how I fit into Mira's life -"

Ian nodded. "Say no more."

...

Ian stepped away from Dipper's side, and Dipper breathed a mental sigh of relief. It was enough work just keeping 'Tyrone' intact while holding the forest at bay, trying to hold a conversation at the same time was borderline impossible. And he hadn't actually lied to Ian, but - it probably wouldn't increase anybody's confidence if they knew that the further into the forest they went, the weaker Dipper was starting to feel. 

Of course, that still made him more powerful than ninety-nine percent of demons, but - this wasn't supposed to happen. He'd gotten so used to being the strongest that suddenly having that pulled out from under him was not a fun or pleasant experience. Nothing was supposed to be able to do this to him anymore! And yet, he could still feel the slow, steady sucking that was draining his power, little by little, growing stronger the closer they drew to the heart of the forest - and, if his sense of direction wasn't as clouded as his sixth sense was, the cliffs. 

Just as it had with Mira and her trail and the breadcrumb arrows he'd left along their way, the thick green web of the forest's power obscured Dipper's Sight, making it impossible for him to tell what it was that was leeching off his power. Unfortunately, Dipper thought he had a pretty good idea what it was anyway.

He cast a wary glance back at the trio following him, his eyes landing on Ian's back with a wince. It probably hadn't been a good idea to bring him. If Dipper wasn't putting two and two together and coming up with paranoia, then Mira'd been taken as bait. Bait to get him within range of the thing that was stealing his power. Bait to get Ian up to the cliffs.

Bait to get them all assembled, again, in a place where Bill Cipher could be summoned.

Rosa let out an uproarious laugh about something and punched Ian in the arm, and for a moment, Dipper was forcibly reminded of another trio who'd trailed after him like this, so many lifetimes ago. Just being here was dragging so many old memories he hadn't thought about in forever back out of the depths of his mind, and Dipper had to admit that it was bittersweet. Everything had changed so much since the last time he'd set foot in these woods.

Well. Almost everything.

Dipper turned back to the faint echo of Mira's aura hanging in the air. It was all but swallowed by green now. They'd have to make better time.

And he'd have to figure out what he was going to do once they reached the cave.

...

The trees and the undergrowth finally started to clear, but while it made it easier to walk, it didn’t actually make things better. Mostly because it meant Ian could now see the birch trees all around him. Hundreds, maybe thousands of big black eyes surrounding him on all sides, boring into his back no matter where he turned. 

It was unnerving enough on its own, but that wasn’t all. The first few times he saw it, Ian thought it was just trees swaying in the wind, that he’d glimpsed out of the corner of his eye, green sweeping across his peripheral vision and then vanishing again. He’d only realised it couldn’t possibly be trees when one of them flickered red. 

After that, they were impossible to miss. It didn’t take long before the others started to notice, too. Rosa’s elbow in his side and raised eyebrow said everything, to Ian. Sun-mi was a little less tactful.

“We’re being followed,” she said, shortly. 

“No, we’re not,” Alcor said. “I lost Mira’s trail fifteen minutes ago.”

There was a moment of quiet as everyone tried to work out what he meant. The creatures following them, the lightening undergrowth, the way the forest had seemed to stop fighting them -

“You’re saying we’re being herded,” Ian said. 

Alcor just grimaced, and kept walking.

...

It felt like hours, or maybe days, before Mira's feet slowed and then came to a stop, hours that still somehow passed in the blink of an eye. Time seemed to have bent dreamlike around her, leaving her here without a real sense of how she'd gotten there.

For the first time since she'd entered the forest, Mira paused and looked around. The sunlight finally burst through the canopy in full, pouring down around her and flooding the clearing laid out before her with golden light. Every blade of pale green or gold grass, rippling gently like a shimmering sea in the faint breath of breeze, every needle on the branches of the towering evergreens and every silver-coin-flashing leaf bursting from the birches that ringed the open space, every delicate petal of the explosion of multicoloured flowers filling the clearing, were gilded with light.

But, beautiful as the whole scene was, one thing inexorably drew her eye.

The tree standing at the centre of the clearing was unlike the other trees around them, and not only because it was the only apple tree Mira had seen so far. Nor was it simply because it looked like the oldest apple tree in the world, so fantastically gnarled that it almost looped in on itself, its explosion of branches twisting like serpents. There was something about it that seemed to have its own gravity, strong enough to draw her all the way from town into the middle of the woods. It was in full leaf, its branches laden with perfect fruit. Mira's mouth watered at the sight of them.

She took a step forward, into the clearing, her mind empty of everything but the brilliant red glint of sunlight off the flawless skin of the apples.

And that was when she saw the figure standing at the base of the tree, its bare, branching antlers almost hidden by the leaves.

...

The half-glimpsed green creatures left them at the edge of a clearing. Ian could still see their flowing garments and shocking red hair peeking out from behind the birch and spruce that ringed the small circle of grass, though. The message was clear: there would be no going back the way they came.

He stepped reluctantly out into the clearing, uneasily watching the birch trees watching him. He'd had nightmares that started like this. Lots of them, in fact. Ever since he'd had a lifetime's worth of memories that didn't belong to him dropped into his head.

Ian's attention was so focused on the trees that he didn't notice Alcor had stopped walking until he collided with Alcor's back. Alcor was frozen, staring at something in the centre of the clearing, and if it could make the world's most powerful demon look like that, then Ian wasn't so sure he wanted to look and see what it was.

He finally forced himself to step out from behind the demon, to confront what Alcor had seen. If it had anything to do with what had taken Mira, then he had to face it, had to know what it was.

At first, though, he wasn't sure what the big deal was. All he saw was what looked like the oldest, ugliest apple tree in the world, the dark wood of its trunk twisted and knotted until it almost looked like it had been carved into the rough shape of a crouched human body, the bare branches springing from the bulbous knot that represented its 'head' pronged like antlers. Someone had left an axe leaning against it, and though the handle was weathered silver and half-overgrown by the tree, the blade still glinted deadly sharp.

Then it opened its eyes.

Twin blue stars flashed to life in the middle of the creature's face, blue stars flaring in the depths of impossibly deep sockets, like gazing into infinity. They seemed to bore straight into Ian, as though they were looking into his soul and out the other side.

The creature slowly unfolded itself, its body wrenching away from the tree, Ian now saw, it had begun to grow into. And it kept unfolding itself, unnaturally long limbs extending, until it towered over the four assembled searchers, seven feet or more of gnarled dark wood and inexplicable malice. One of its gangling arms ended in a clawed hand, fingers like questing roots, pointed and irresistible. The other ended in the axe.

Rosa gasped, grabbing Ian's shoulders. Sun-mi also gasped, though it was an entirely different-sounding gasp, and took a step forward, one hand scrabbling blind for her phone, her eyes never leaving the creature's face. Only Alcor didn't move, didn't react, almost like he'd known this was going to happen. Which, Ian reflected, he probably had.

The creature's knot-face cracked, splitting right across the middle, jagged edges like sharp teeth, and it let out a bone-shattering roar. Crows scattered from the treetops around them, the trees around them shook, even the ground seemed suddenly unsteady under Ian's feet.

Sun-mi jumped back, and Rosa ducked down behind Ian's back. Alcor didn't move. He stood, perfectly still, until the creature's roar slowly petered out into a curious sound, and then stopped altogether. Ian couldn’t see any real change in his appearance, but Alcor still somehow seemed taller, almost towering. Ian could feel the press of Alcor’s power on his skin, not unlike the pins and needles of blood flowing back into a limb, insistent and uncomfortable and impossible to ignore.

In the ringing silence after the roar, Alcor's voice was like a bell tolling.

"Woodsman. Where is my Mizar?"