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wil-is-done · 2 years

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When You’re A Mystery Kid - Chapter 36B: Assault on the Fearamid - Part 2

Summary: At summer’s end, there was a storm, one that even the demon fears. (Warning for graphic violence)

Word Count: 12.355

IMPORTANT NOTE: This is a repost.

Disclaimer: I own none of the characters featured here.

“Bill’s coming!”

Lili’s scream echoed off of the walls of the massive chamber, louder than the bickering group at the chamber’s center, and immediately silenced them all. She took off in a sprint towards them, Raz only a split second behind. He looked over his shoulder as he ran, at the gaping entrance he left behind. Bill had not appeared through it just yet, but he knew they only had maybe seconds at most before Bill arrives.

The lingering pain at the back of his head began to grow stronger. They might have even less time than he thought. “Everyone, run!” Raz yelled. “We need to get out of here!”

The group spent a moment frozen, their eyes slowly widening, gears turning in their heads as the realization of what’s happening dawned on them.

Coraline was the first of them to break out of their reverie. “You heard him!” she barked, pointing a finger towards a grand doorway leading deeper inside the Fearamid. “We gotta move!”

That managed to break the rest of the group from their stupor. They scrambled, stumbling and tripping over themselves, towards the doorway that Coraline pointed to. It was all a chaotic blur of people and movement. Dipper picked up a discarded paint spray can as he ran. Mabel had her grappling hook in one hand and Pacifica’s hand in another. Norman stayed in place for a second longer than the others, his palms turning into fists, before he followed the others. Coraline made sure everyone was on the move before she herself started running. As Raz ran, he spotted a circle of symbols from the corner of his eye, surrounding an image of Bill.

Raz and Lili finally caught up to Coraline, who stayed at the back of the group.

“What do we do now?” he asked, desperate, through panting breath, to Coraline.

“There’s a ritual that can stop Bill. We need Stan, Ford, Wendy, Soos, Robbie, McGucket, Gideon, Pacifica, Mabel, and Dipper to do it.” The determination and resolve that burned in Coraline’s eyes was almost scary to see. “We have to protect them, at all costs.”

Raz nodded resolutely. His eyes narrowed at the ten people running in front of him. He’d done escort missions before. He knew how this worked. Ten people to protect. Ten people that holds the key to saving the world. Ten people he’s prepared to die for, if needed.

He felt a sharp spike of pain at the back of his head just as he, Lili and Coraline passed through the doorway. The entire structure rumbled, and he could’ve sworn the floor began shifting. That could only mean one thing.

Bill’s here.

“You dirt walkers are trying to do a little ritual here, huh?” Bill’s voice sounds like it came from everywhere. Not like an echo, it was as if he spoke through the floor and walls and ceiling. “Tell you what; call it off and I promise I’ll only make you all suffer for a few millennia!”

Raz heard someone yelping, and even a few quiet whimpers, but they all kept running. He glanced back; the hallway behind them was still empty. It won’t stay that way for long.

“We need to find a place to try the ritual again!” Dipper’s voice came from the front of the group.

“And the time!” Wybie shrieked back. “We won’t be getting neither with Bill right on our asses!”

A terrible plan took form in his mind. Raz’s face darkened. He skidded to a halt. Lili immediately stopped next to him, joined by Coraline, then Wybie, until everyone stopped in their tracks, their attention focused on Raz.

“Raz?” Coraline’s eyes narrowed. He knew she knew what he had planned.

Raz stared each and every one of them in the eye, putting on the bravest face he could muster. “You’re on your own for the place, but I can give you the time.”

They reacted with gasps, refusals, and unadulterated horror.

“Raz, you can’t, we have to-!”

“No, no way, not in a million-!”

“That’s suicide, Bill’s not going-!”

“Don’t even try,” Raz replied succinctly, cutting them off. “Just go.”

They didn’t leave, at first, but the look on Raz’s face made it clear that he made his mind. There was nothing they could say that would dissuade him. One by one, they slowly turned on their heels and ran off ahead. The Mystery Kids was the last ones to leave, and among them, Lili and Coraline were the ones that stayed the longest.

“Kick his pointy ass for me.” Coraline gave him one last smirk, before she spun around and sprinted off to rejoin the others.

Now, the only ones left were himself and Lili.

“Lili…” Raz began.

Lili raised a hand. “Don’t even try.”

Raz couldn’t help but smile. It was stupid of him to even to try to get Lili to leave. Not to mention, rather hypocritical.

His smile didn’t last long, fading as he turned to stare down the long hallway behind him. Beside him, Lili did the same, her expression grim and determined. The rumbling of the walls, the shifting of the floor, the throbbing pain in his head; they’re all getting stronger.

Lili shifted her stance, bringing a finger up to her forehead. “We don’t stand a chance.”

“No.” Orange psychic energy pulsed to life from Raz’s taut fists. “No, we don’t.”

When Bill appeared, the pain skyrocketed. Raz’s knees nearly buckled. His vision blurred and shifted, it took everything in him to keep his focus. Just looking at Bill hurts, in more ways than one.

Bill floated forward, closing in on Raz and Lili. He looked amused. “Goggles and lily pad! Planning on giving up?” He glared, and Raz heard Lili hissing, holding back a scream. “If you do, I’ll be nice and use your skin for my new curtains! Don’t worry; I’ll make sure you’re alive and conscious for the entire process!”

“Human skin… is a terrible match… for the aesthetic of this place.” Raz forced a grin through gritted teeth. It probably wasn’t the best idea to devote what remained of his brain power for snappy comebacks, but then again, none of his decisions today were particularly smart.

“Wait, you’re fighting back?” Bill burst out into laughter. “That’s idiotic, even by the standards of three dimensional beings with overdosed minds like you!”

Raz gave Lili the tiniest of glances. On my signal…

“Sure, we might be idiotic three dimensional beings with overdosed minds,” the pulsing energy in his fists grew stronger, larger, swelling beyond the limits of what he knew was safe, “but we are idiotic three dimensional beings with overdosed minds that’s going to take! You! Down!”

Now!

Raz held both hands out, Lili extending out one. Two massive orbs of orange and pink-ish energy, each one larger than him, shot out from their palms. The knockback was enough to send the two skidding back a few inches. The orbs sailed through the air with a booming roar. Bill’s single eye widened in surprise.

“What the-?!”

Both orbs struck Bill square in his eye, the blast massive and deafening, Bill reeling back by a few feet. The entire structure shook, the corridor suddenly bathed in a kaleidoscope of orange and pink lights, almost blindingly so. Raz and Lili had to shield their eyes from the light and the sheer force of the blast.

“My eye!” Bill screamed out, clutching his eye. “Cheap shot, you psychic inbreds!”

No time to waste. Lili threw her hands in the air, eyes tightly shut, her brows furrowing in exertion. Bits of stone from the floor, walls, and ceiling was ripped out, flying to a central point above Lili’s head. Raz felt the intense heat of Lili’s pyrokinesis, and witnessed as the gathered stone bits began to melt, coalescing into a ball of molten rock, growing larger and larger as more material flew up to join it.

“Cover me,” Lili whispered through gritted teeth.

Raz nodded with a grunt. He sprinted off straight towards Bill, peppering him with small blasts of psychic energy. With Bill still reeling, he was oblivious to the growing ball of molten rock, and each blast Raz shot made sure to keep it that way. Raz easily slid under the distracted Bill, firing off a couple more psi-blasts for good measure, breaking off into a sprint again on the other side. Bill finally recovered with a grumble about his eye hurting. He quickly spun around and fired off a wave of blue flame. A levitation ball bounced Raz above the wave of searing, cerulean flame. Summoning a psychic platform beneath his feet, he used it to launch himself back at Bill. Twirling in midair, a massive, ethereal fist came to form behind Raz. He swung his fist with a battle cry, the ethereal fist flying past him, aimed straight at Bill. The fist struck Bill’s eye, impacting with a resounding, satisfying thud. Bill reeled, and Raz grinned.

Down below, seeing her chance, Lili hurled her molten boulder with a grunt of exertion. Bill remained oblivious. Raz’s grin grew wider.

Suddenly, Bill’s eye flitted left, finally noticing the molten boulder. A new arm suddenly sprouted out of his body, rushing towards Raz, rushing far too fast for Raz to react. Dark fingers clamped down tight around Raz, pinning his arms against his sides. Raz bit back a cry of pain from its crushing grip. He barely had time to even attempt an escape before Bill’s arm abruptly sent him swinging through the air towards, in Raz’s horrified realization, the path of the molten boulder. In that split second before impact, Raz hastily threw up a barrier around himself, and braced.

The impact was overwhelming. The pain was overwhelming. It was crushing, searing, melting, pulverizing, all at the same time. His vision shifted back and forth between complete darkness and a blur of shapes and colors, and it took everything in him to not succumb, to hang on to that colorful haze. His ears were ringing, so loud he thought his eardrums might burst, but distantly he could still hear the sickening crunch of something breaking, the sizzling of clothes burning, Bill’s booming laughter, and even more distant than all that, the sound of Lili’s horrified screams.

Raz felt another impact, this time not nearly as bad the first one. Some distant corner of his mind still had enough clarity for him to realize that he’s now lying face down on the ground. The appeal of succumbing, of letting it all go, has never been as strong, and it continued to grow stronger by the moment.

“Raz!”

Lili’s scream reached him once again, but only barely. It was followed a cry of panic. A cry of fear.

Something stirred within Raz. Something that pushed him to crack his eyes open.

All he saw was a blur, at first, but everything slowly came to focus as the moments ticked by. He saw Lili, standing closer than he thought she would be. She held an arm out, desperately reaching for Raz. Tears were streaming down her face. He had never seen her look so afraid before. Raz drew a strained gasp when he realized why.

Her legs had been turned to wood. Her feet turned to roots, stuck into the floor. The transformation slowly continued to spread upwards, past her hips and up to her stomach. Bill floated behind her. There was a sick sense of amusement in his eye.

“Irony is my eighth favorite form of humor!”

Bill laughed again. Lili sobbed. All Raz could do was watch.

“Raz, please, hold my hand, please,” she begged, the transformation spreading past her chest, “Raz, don’t let me go, I don’t wanna go, please, Raz, please.”

Raz raised his hand and held it out to Lili with all the strength left in him, but it wasn’t enough. Her fingertips were so maddeningly, frustratingly close to his. He couldn’t muster the strength to close the distance. When her begging stopped, her sobs ceased, and she became deathly silent, her wooden fingers were only inches away from his reach.

Raz’s hand dropped lifelessly to the ground. He choked and sobbed, hot tears streaming down his face.

“Oh, boo hoo, kid. It’s only permanent if I want it to.” Bill turned around and began to float away from Raz. “Don’t bother getting up. I can make things worse for you.”

The sight of Bill leaving, so indifferently, so nonchalantly, after what he did; it set something off within Raz. Something in him snapped, and he felt anger like he never felt it before. He had no idea how it was possible, or where he got the strength to do it, but he suddenly found himself barely standing on two feet, his fist faintly pulsing with energy.

“Bill!” Raz’s voice echoed throughout the cavernous hallway. Bill stopped moving away. He didn’t turn to face Raz.

Raz took one step forward, and stumbled. Raz took another step, and tripped. With every step he took, it threatened to send him crashing to his knees, but he didn’t care. He didn’t care that the energy pulsing from his fist fizzled out about five steps ago. All he cared about was Lili, and Bill, and how good the demon would look after Raz had beaten the shit out of him.

In desperation and rage, Raz raised a hand, ready to fire.

Bill spun around. He glared.

Pain flooded Raz’s senses. It felt like a thousand needles were piercing his skull, like two mountains were pressing against his head, like his skull was set aflame with the fires of Hell. His jaw stretched open in a silent scream. He dropped to his knees, and would have fallen flat on the floor if he didn’t catch himself, his arms barely holding himself up. Something wet, something warm, dripped out of his nostrils, then dripped out of his eyes, then dripped out of his ears and mouth. A pool of red began to form underneath him.

He could still hear Bill’s voice, mocking him.

“Look at you! I’m barely doing anything and you’re already leaking human juice from all your face holes!”

Raz had no response. He couldn’t think of any. His mind was a blank, empty of everything except for the pain.

“You’re never getting up from that, goggles.” The floor all around him shifted. “But here’s to make sure.”

Water burst out of the floor. It rose to the air before the flow bent and curled, forming a dome around Raz, tightly closing in upon him. Raz let himself collapse to the floor. His eyelids lowered and closed. He tucked his knees against his chest. He had succumbed. Bill left without uttering another word.

He had no idea how long he laid there, curled into himself, when he felt something wet tickling his back, the tips of his hair, and the soles of his shoes. He didn’t even have to open his eyes to know what’s happening.

The dome was shrinking.

“Turn right over here!”

Coraline’s voice was confident and unwavering; the group following her directions without question, taking a blind right turn in the ever-increasingly mazelike corridors of the Fearamid. Her features were etched into a mask of undaunted bravery, but even then, she still found herself shooting looks over her shoulders more than once. That loud boom earlier that rocked the entire structure; no doubt that that was because of Raz and Lili. She just hoped it turned out to be a good sign.

That right turn eventually led to the group passing under a massive doorway and emerging into an equally massive, barren room. Besides chunks of rubble, there was practically nothing to speak of in it; no furniture, no windows, no way forward.

“Oh no, dead end!” Mabel wailed. Panic was quick to swell among the group. After all, turning back was certainly too risky of an option to take.

Coraline’s eyes scanned the room closely. In spite of, or perhaps because of, her desperation, her eyes caught a glimpse of something in the far corner of the room. “Over there!” she shouted.

Coraline led the group as they flocked towards it. As they got closer, it became clear that what caught Coraline’s eye was a doorway. A normal, human-sized doorway, unlike the gigantic ones she had encountered before, that had almost entirely collapsed in on itself, but it still had just enough space for people to crawl under.

“Come on, everyone. Through here.” Coraline stepped forward and did her best to lift the collapsed parts of the doorway to create just the slightest bit more space for the others to pass through. Mabel and Wendy came up beside her and helped her with the deed. Without further prompting, one by one they crawled under the doorway, starting with Gideon, then Robbie, and so on. The Mystery Kids were the last ones to pass through, and Coraline made sure she was the last one to do it. She took a glance behind her for a moment, her eyes darting left and right for any sign of Bill or his ilk, before she swiftly ducked under the doorway.

The room beyond was rather similar to the room before in some aspects; namely that it had scarcely anything but rubble in it, it had no windows, and no other doorways forward. What was different about the room was how small it was compared to all the chambers and hallways she’d seen in the Fearamid. The height of the ceiling was about the same height as a normal room, and even the rubble here was smaller. This room was basically the Fearamid’s equivalent of a crawlspace. Despite that, it still had more than enough room for the rather large group.

Neil stepped up into the center of the room and looked around. “Hate to say it, but I feel like this room is about as safe as it gets,” he said.

“He’s right.” Coraline wasn’t exactly happy with it, but her feelings weren’t important right now. “We’ll hole up here, try the ritual again. Hopefully this time no one’s gonna mess it up.” She didn’t even bother with subtlety when she sent a glare to both Stan and Ford.

“Sounds like a plan.” Dipper nodded. He walked up to Ford, holding out a spray paint canister. “Great uncle Ford?”

Ford didn’t take the canister immediately, not at first. He was still wilting under Coraline’s glare. When he did accept the canister, he did so without as much as a whisper.

Coraline threw her gaze to the side and silently scoffed. Good.

Ford was quick to busy himself with recreating the required ritual circle from earlier in the center of the room. The other nine spoken of in the prophecy stood around in a circle, anxiously waiting until the mystical circle was finished. The rest of the Mystery Kids mostly paced around the room nervously. Coraline knelt by the entrance of the room, her eyes flitting between Ford working on the circle and the room outside.

Ford barely managed to draw a circle when a voice echoed down the hallway and into the room.

“Organ bags! Come out, come out, wherever you are!”

Coraline’s blood ran cold. It was as if time itself froze inside that room. Everyone stopped in their tracks, even Ford, looking like a deer in the headlights.

“Keep drawing!” Coraline snapped at him. He did so immediately.

“Th-that was… was Bill,” Wybie stuttered. The horror in his eyes was all too palpable. “Raz and Lili…”

Coraline tightened her palms into fists. As if the air in the room wasn’t grim already. Dipper wrapped his arms around himself, shaking his head. Mabel had her hands covering her mouth, trying her best to choke back her sobs. Neil collapsed against the wall, clutching his head in his hands. Norman stood almost deathly still in the corner. Coraline had to shut her eyes as tightly as she could. This was no time for tears. Not for her.

She opened her eyes and stared out into the room and hallway before. She just had a grim realization. “We need more time,” she stated, simply.

She wasn’t surprised when Norman immediately spoke up. “Coraline. No.”

“What other choice do we have?!” Coraline rose up to her full height, drew her mace, and gripped the weapon tight. “I’m stepping out there and buying you guys time. None of you can stop me.”

To her relief, no one actually took her up on that. However, when Wendy broke away from the circle, her brows furrowed and her axe in hand, Coraline raised her guard.

“Don’t even try, Corduroy.”

“I’m not.” Wendy raised her axe up to Coraline, handle-first. “I just thought you needed this more than I do.”

There was a beat, a moment, where Coraline simply stared dumbfounded at the offered axe. When that moment ended, she readily accepted the axe with her left hand and gave Wendy an appreciative smile. Out of the corner of her eye, she spotted Stan breaking away from the circle too, opening his mouth to speak. Coraline’s smile disappeared.

“Look, kid, before you go through with this stupid idea, you gotta-”

“No, you shut the fuck up!”

Coraline’s words were ringing, cutting cleanly across the air.

“You think you still have a say in this?! Two of my best friends might be dead, all because you two ancient, idiotic troglodytes can’t keep your hate boners in check for five fucking seconds! We could’ve-!”

Coraline held herself back from saying any more. Her eyes were starting to water.

“Just do us all a favor, and don’t fuck it up again,” she finished. Stan retreated back to the circle without another word. Not that he needed to say anything; the chastised look on his face spoke louder than words.

Coraline casted one last glance to everyone in the room, to her best friends, to the people she’s fond of, to the people she once hated, and to the people that now kind of hate. She turned, walking closer to the collapsed doorway. She paused when she realized Wybie was following closely behind her.

Coraline sighed. “Wybie. I know you know what I meant.”

“Then you’re not taking a step outside of this room.” The boldness in his voice and the finality in his tone were unlike anything she’d ever heard from him before.

Coraline spared him a glance over her shoulder. “And you’re gonna stop me?”

“I’m… gonna try.”

That’s rather impressive, she had to admit. Annoying, but impressive. Coraline set aside both of her weapons for a moment. She turned on her heels to face Wybie, finally. His brows were knit into a glare, his hands balled into fists, genuinely looking ready to do his damnedest to stop her. Gently, Coraline approached him, gingerly placing both of her hands on his shoulders. Wybie’s eyes flitted between them with a nervous glint. She grew closer and closer still, until their faces were only inches from each other, and she could feel his warm breath tickling her lips. Wybie’s eyes were wide with surprise. Coraline’s eyes were closed out of guilt.

“Neil, hold him back.”

A look of shock and confusion barely dawned upon Wybie when Coraline shoved him back into Neil, who immediately wrapped his arms around Wybie in a tight bear hug.

“Wha- Neil?! No, let go of me, you-!”

Coraline wasted no time. With one swift motion, she picked up both the axe and her mace and ducked through the collapsed doorway.

“No! Coraline, please, you can’t do this! He’s going to kill you, you crazy-!”

Coraline didn’t hear the rest of what Wybie said. She was already in a full sprint going down the corridor.

Coraline briefly wondered how long it would be until she encountered Bill, and what she would do when that happened. She didn’t wonder for long. After only three right turns and two left turns, she skidded to a halt. For a moment, she tensed, her knees suddenly weak, chills running down her spine. Another moment, she shook off her doubts and pushed down her fears, and held her weapons at the ready. There, floating at the far end of the corridor, was Bill Cipher.

Bill, from what she could tell, looked pleasantly surprised to meet her. “Doll face! Let me guess, defiant to the end?”

Coraline didn’t bother gracing that with an answer. She took off in a sprint, full speed, her mace and axe bared and eager to rip a demon to pieces.

“Oh, there it is! Hilarious!” Bill’s single eye turned into a deep crimson color. “Or it would be, if it’s not getting increasingly annoying!”

Bill snapped his fingers, the sound resoundingly reverberating off of the walls. A deep rumble shook the corridor, giving Coraline pause in her advance. There was a sudden sound of stone grinding against stone, and Coraline watched wide-eyed, as an entire section of the corridor began to rotate clockwise. Another rough grinding noise, a different section of the corridor beginning to rotate, this time counter-clockwise. Three more sections rotating clockwise, four more rotating opposite, on and on until the entire length of the corridor was transformed into an ever-shifting, spinning, chaotic mess of blocks and stone. Coraline simply gritted her teeth and leapt from one section to another. There was nothing he could do to stop her from pressing forward.

That was when Bill clapped his hands.

The clap echoed louder than the snap. Coraline paused again, her eyes darting left and right for signs of something, anything, changing. Her eyes were drawn to a tile high above her that had started moving as if it was shuddering. In the blink of an eye, the tile suddenly shot downwards as a pillar in blinding speed. Coraline barely managed to move her foot only a split second before the stone pillar struck where it once was. More and more pillars shot out of the ever-changing floors, walls, and ceiling, all throughout the corridor, adding in to the cavalcade of chaotic madness before her. Not that she’s deterred, not in the slightest.

Jump. Roll. Sidestep. Vault. Leap. Slide. Both her brain and body, and the connection in-between, pushed to their limits. The smallest misstep, the tiniest miscalculation, and it could all be over in an instant. Against all odds, against the shred of doubt that gnawed at the back of her mind, she’s gaining ground. With every pillar dodged, with every platform traversed, the distance between her and Bill grew smaller. She heard another clap. Coraline doubled her speed.

A pillar shot up underneath her feet. For this, Coraline didn’t dodge. She rode it as it carried her high into the air. Guessing she’s at the correct height, Coraline launched herself off of the pillar, both her weapons gripped tight, straight at Bill.

Bill reeled, caught off guard. Coraline swung her axe. Bill swerved to the side at the very last minute.

Coraline landed with a roll. When she looked back, she saw Bill glaring at the underside of his left arm, where a small, clean cut had exposed bits of the flesh underneath.

Coraline leered up at him. “So you can bleed.”

Bill shifted his glare to her. The exposed flesh reformed itself. He spoke, his voice low and distorted.

“YOU SUDDENLY THINK YOU’RE HOT STUFF, DOLL FACE?!”

Coraline almost laughed. Despite everything, pissing Bill off felt good.

Her leer didn’t last. The ground shook and rumbled again. Her instincts screamed at her to start moving once. She leapt, and an earthen jaw clamped down on the empty air where she once was only a split second later. She barely caught her breath when she felt the ground tremble. She rolled, and a jaw rose out of the ground, missing her by inches. They were like bear traps, made from the floor itself. Coraline quickly learned to keep moving and move quickly.

At some point, it became almost like a dance. A game. One that she’s playing with Bill, where she kept winning every round, pissing off Bill more and more. She grew rather bold. Confident. Overconfident, even.

But overconfidence is a slow and insidious killer.

Coraline leapt again, but she knew she slipped, her jump not covering as much ground as it was supposed to. Something solid clamped down hard on her left leg. Her jump cut short, she fell into a crumpled heap on the floor. Her mace and axe fell out of her grip with a clatter. Even without looking back, she knew what happened. Coraline got careless, and the jaw got lucky, catching her by the foot. She tugged with all her strength, once, twice, to no avail. She remained stuck.

A shadow loomed over her. Her heart plummeted to her stomach.

A single misstep.

“Done? Can we now skip to the part where I win and you get to enjoy an existence of eternal pain?”

Coraline’s answer was to reach for her axe and chuck it as hard as she could at Bill. The weapon found its mark right in his eye, but Bill didn’t even flinch. Coraline’s heart plummeted even lower.

“You kids have a thing for being a pain in my eye, don’t you?” Bill blinked once, crushing the axe with just his eyelid. The remains clattered to a halt before Coraline’s prone form.

“Do you have any idea how powerful I am right now?! I turned this hallway into a chaos carousel with just a snap of my fingers!” Bill gestured towards the gauntlet that Coraline had just passed. “And with another snap,” he snapped his fingers again, the cavalcade of shifting stones immediately grinding to a halt, before it reverted back to a normal corridor, “I can take it all away!”

In her endless list of terrible decisions, Coraline decided to tack on one more, by putting on her biggest shit-eating grin and snickering, “Still managed to nick ya.”

Bill actually landed, the floor beneath him cracking. His eye, blood red. His voice, rumbling and distorted.

“Your worst nightmare is that sorry excuse for a demon! My finger is enough to take her place!” Bill raised a single finger. “Here. Watch.”

Coraline did watch, as the skin on that finger peeled away into a tangled mass of endless obsidian wires. Each strand was razor thin, razor sharp, glinting in the reddish light of the Fearamid. The ends of each strand suddenly solidified, morphing into metallic needles that danced in the air like snakes. Coraline was shocked out of her macabre reverie when Bill lowered his finger to point it at her. The needles shot at her, the black wires trailing eternally behind them. As they slithered closer and closer and closer, Coraline tried once more to free her trapped foot. No avail. She braced herself for the worst.

Something suddenly stepped in front of her.

No. Someone.

She only had a split second of thought, but with that ratty, black coat and matted, dark hair, she recognized who it was instantly.

“Wybie?!”

Wybie had both of his hands held out. The mass of needles and wires quickly consumed them.

“And the wrench throws itself into my plans!” Bill bellowed, annoyed and frustrated.

Any instance of Bill being annoyed would have usually attracted Coraline’s attention, but she had other things in mind right now. “Wybie, what are you doing here?! I told you to stay put!” she shrieked.

With the needles and wires still swarming his hands, Wybie screamed back over his shoulder, “And I told you you’re not doing this by yourself! I’ll always follow you, Coraline, until the ends of the… of the…”

Wybie faltered in his bold declaration, as the swarm surrounding his hands cleared, revealing that the needles and wires had literally sewn the fingers of each hand together into a single, useless limb. Coraline gasped in horror. Wybie stared at his hands, slack-jawed, too terrified to speak.

“C-Coraline…?” His low, timid whisper was barely audible, but it set something off within Coraline.

The wires weren’t finished. They pulled at his hands, pinning his arm against his sides, before it began to swarm all around his torso like rabid wasps. Once it cleared, it had stitched the length of both his arms to the sides of his torso. Even then, they weren’t finished, immediately slithering downwards towards his legs. They circled them, swarmed them, and once they were done, his legs had been fused together into one. Wybie was not prepared, teetering for a moment, before he fell to the floor with a yelp.

The mass of wires and needles still hasn’t stopped moving. It had begun to creep upwards, headed to Wybie’s face.

Wybie locked his gaze with Coraline’s. Wide eyes filled with fear met wide eyes filled with desperation. Coraline couldn’t think of anything she could do other than to plead, to yell out his name, over and over again. Wybie’s lips quivered, like he was about to say something, but he never had the chance. A needle pierced through the upper right corner of his lips, and it quick wound its way along the length of it. Within seconds, his lips had been sewn shut. A pair of needles went a bit higher, to his eyes, and before long, his eyelids had also been sewn closed. He still squirmed, he still screamed, blindly, in his grotesque bondage.

Coraline collapsed, slamming her fist against the floor in anger, in sorrow, at her own failure, quietly sobbing Wybie’s name to herself.

“Sit still, and I might just let you die.” Bill’s voice rang, distant, dispassionate. He turned, floating away from her.

Coraline didn’t even think. She was seeing red as she reached for her discarded mace and tossed it at him with all the strength she had left, screaming bloody murder all the while. The mace sailed through the air, only to come to a dead stop in midair halfway through its arc. Bill spun in place, slowly, facing her with his eye glowing red. Despite her rage, Coraline shriveled under Bill’s imposing gaze.

“You don’t know when it’s time to quit, do you?”

She heard stones cracking, and to her surprise, saw the earthen jaw that pinned her foot crumble into pieces. However, before she could utilize the opportunity, she was enveloped by a blue glow, and she felt herself lifted up to the air. She flailed frantically, trying to escape, to no avail, rising higher and higher until she was at eye level with Bill. Her mace, still floating in midair, was suddenly, effortlessly split into two. Both halves flew at her and, before she could react, each one clamped and locked themselves around her wrists. She cried when her wrists were suddenly pulled behind her, the metal meeting each other with an echoing clang. The makeshift shackles melted and joined together, leaving her hands uselessly locked behind her. The pile of rubble below her that was once the earthen jaw cracked and crumbled even further into grains of sand. A sudden gust of wind cleared the sand away and revealed, among the dark-red tiles of the Fearamid, a small door.

Coraline’s eyes widened in horrified recognition.

The small door slowly swung open with a long, whining creak, revealing a lightless, impenetrable, unending abyss, and faintly, a singsong hum of something pretending to be a human woman.

“Run along home to mommy.”

Bill’s words rang in her ears as the glow surrounding her fades, and gravity took its course. Down she went to the abyss below, to her fated destination. Fear seized her heart in a vice, cold and unrelenting. Any semblance of composure had abandoned her. Her mask of bravery, of determination and valor, long gone, discarded. She screamed. She cried. She begged. All for naught. Plunged into the abyss, to be claimed, consumed.

“Just a little doll, afraid of the dark.”

Her scream was silenced as the small door slammed shut.

Norman could’ve stopped Raz and Lili from staying behind, but he didn’t. Norman could’ve stopped Coraline from leaving the room they hunkered down in to slow Bill down, but he didn’t. Norman could’ve stopped Wybie when he broke free of Neil’s bear hug and went out after Coraline, but he didn’t. All those times when he could’ve stopped his friends, and he chose not to. All because of a strange, vague whisper at the back of his mind told him to.

And now, that whisper urged him to leave this room and confront Bill.

He nearly acted on it almost immediately. He managed to catch himself, instead casting his gaze around the room. Ford’s progress on the ritual circle was halfway complete, and all ten of the people needed for the ritual were all here, safe and sound. Logically, there was no need to step outside of this room.

Norman watched Ford as he moved to finish the lower half of Bill’s depiction, but as he pressed down on the can’s nozzle, instead of a spray of blue paint, all that came out was a hiss and empty air.

“Oh no.” Ford frantically shook the can and tried again, only to get the same result. “This can’s empty.”

There it was. The reason.

The entire structure suddenly rumbled. Tiny chunks of the ceiling broke off and fell to the floor. Norman jumped as an all-too familiar voice filled the air.

“I’m getting really tired of these distractions, Fordsy!” Bill’s voice sounded livid. “You throw one more kid at me, and I’m gonna lose it!”

That was another reason.

“What do we do now, dudes?!” Soos shouted, clutching the top of his head.

“We can still finish the circle!” Ford yelled out. “Quick, everyone search for something sharp, something that I can use to carve out the rest of the circle!”

Everyone was quick to do so, scampering towards the piles of rubble scattered around the room. Neil did so too. Norman didn’t. He had his eyes locked on the partially collapsed doorway, the only entrance and exit to this room.

“Hey, Norman, c’mon!” Norman heard Neil say. He wasn’t expecting Neil to be suddenly standing beside him. “We gotta help look!”

Norman took one last look around the room, at everyone busy scrounging through piles of rubble, then at Neil. “Neil, promise me you won’t let anyone follow me outside,” he said.

It took Neil a second to digest what Norman had said. Once he did, he didn’t take it well. “You want to-?! Norman, why would you want to do that?!”

Norman clamped a firm hand on Neil’s shoulder. “Just trust me on this. Promise?”

Neil hesitated for a moment, but he eventually gave him a steely nod. “I do. I promise.”

Norman replied with one last smile, which Neil was quick to reciprocate. As silently as he could, with everyone but Neil still preoccupied, he slipped underneath the doorway.

Emerging on the other side, he stared down the massive, barren room he’s in, and at the massive doorway where Bill would soon emerge. One step after another he took, drawing closer and closer to the center of the room. Energy flowed from his center to the tips of his fingers, first starting as a trickle, but with every step he loosened his limits more and more, until energy were surging towards his hands. Some managed to escape his control, manifesting as quick lashes of yellow that burned at the edges of his sleeves. He was only a few steps away now. Out here, he won’t hesitate.

“Wait, where’s Norman?”

Norman stopped. Even out here, Dipper’s voice still managed to reach him.

“Neil, where’s Norman?!”

Norman couldn’t afford to take the risk. Without looking back, Norman opened his palm at the doorway he emerged. A bolt of lightning left his palm, quickly followed by the sound of lighting striking and of rocks falling and crumbling. Amidst it all, he heard Dipper’s voice screaming out his name.

Norman drew a deep breath. Now he couldn’t hesitate even if he wanted to.

Three more steps, and he was at the room’s center, standing tall, fists clenched, waiting for Bill’s arrival.

The wait wasn’t long. Bill emerged from the massive doorway, his single eye already colored a vibrant crimson. He scanned the room, until his gaze met Norman’s. Norman might only be seeing what he wanted to see, but when Bill’s eye landed on him, he could’ve sworn he saw Bill flinch.

“Ghost boy,” Bill said, his tone peculiarly flat. “Where’s the rest of your little troupe?”

Norman glared up at him. “Whatever you say to me, it won’t work.”

“Not even if I say I will make the people you loved suffer the most?” Bill asked, as if that question was supposed to be a joke.

Norman’s reply was to hold out both of his hands, palms opened. “I’ve only done this a few times so far.” He changed his stance, spreading his legs to better handle the knockback, and gritted his teeth. “This is the first time I’m not sorry for using it.”

The energy surging and building towards his palms were practically fit to burst. Finally, Norman let go of his control of it, letting it all loose. A singular bolt of lightning shot out of his palms. It split the air in a flash, crackling and hissing like a cacophony of angry snakes. Bill’s eye went wide with clear, genuine fear. Hastily, in panic, he put up his arms to shield himself. The lightning bolt struck Bill’s arm with a deafening roar of thunder, and Bill… yelped.

A quick, weak yelp. Something caused by the spittle of boiling water, or a sudden shock of static in a dry day. Not by a bolt of lightning that Norman knew for a fact was the single most painful thing someone could feel. All Norman could do was stare, frozen, dumbfounded. Even Bill seemed bewildered, staring at the spot where the bolt struck his arm. His gaze moved to meet Norman’s.

“I-Is… Is that the best you can do?” Bill asked, something almost like caution clear in his tone.

Norman was too afraid to answer, because it was a yes.

His answer must have been written clear on his face, because Bill began to laugh. It started as a low, disbelieving chuckle at first, but it quickly devolved into an unrestrained, booming guffaw. Norman stared down at his palms; at what he thought was something that could stop Bill.

“Well, you sure made me feel like an idiot, kid!” Bill mocked as his laughter died down, mimicking wiping tears from his eye. He floated forward. Norman slowly backed away.

“Here I was, worrying that I’ve got a storm coming!” Bill leaned closer, close enough that Norman nearly fell over. “But you’re still just a pathetic, little spark, aren’t you, Norman?”

Despite the demon inching closer, Norman’s eyes were drawn again to his hands. There were sparks still, surging beneath the skin. “That’s… that was supposed to…”

“Supposed to what?! Hurt me? Kill me?!” Bill’s voice rocked the entire structure. His entire body changed color into dark red, his eye turning into deep black with a shining yellow pupil. “I am beyond anything you’ve ever faced, witch! There’s no hurting me, there’s no killing me, there’s no banishing me.”

That time, Norman did fall over. As he stared up with wide eyes, Bill withdrew. His composure returned to something resembling calm.

“Let’s make this easy for everyone,” he said. His hand burst into blue flame, and he pointed it at Norman. “Tell me where Ford is, and I might not kill you.”

For a split second, Norman had the urge to cast a glance at the collapsed doorway hiding the others. He easily resisted. Instead, he rose back to his feet and, though much more timidly this time, extended his hands out towards Bill. The surging energy was still there, electricity rippling across his skin. If he couldn’t defeat Bill, then he could still slow him down.

Bill sighed. He lowered his arm, the blue flame fizzling out, much to Norman’s surprise.

“Not done, huh? Fine!” Norman thought if Bill had a mouth, it would’ve cracked into a wicked grin. “Since you’re so eager, I’ll make this easier for ya! I’ll give you a bigger target!”

In the blink of an eye, and with a terrible roar, Bill transformed. The hands that took all of Norman’s courage to hold up slowly lowered themselves at the sight. A towering beast of crimson red, his body segmented by maws ringed with yellow fangs and slobbering, black tongues. Eight yellow, shining appendages sprouted from his body; six serving as his ‘hands’, two serving as his ‘legs’. His single obsidian eye, repeated three times across all four of his sides. The eye that was facing Norman narrowed down at him.

“GO ON. HIT ME.”

Something primal at the back of his mind told him to turn tail and run. Instead, what he did was hastily raise his hands back up again. Norman willed energy to surge to his fingertips.

A bolt of his lightning left his palms.

A wave of blue flame left one of Bill’s hands, massive and all-consuming.

Everything turned black.

When his senses returned, the first thing to greet him was pain all over his body and the smell of smoke. The second to greet him was a worrying numbness on his palms. The third was how he was sprawled on the Fearamid’s floor, arms splayed wide on each side. The fourth was Bill’s voice, low and distorted.

“One last time. Where. Is. Ford.”

Norman’s intent was to give Bill the middle finger, but the numbness on his hands made it hard to tell whether or not he succeeded. Although, judging from how Bill grumbled, he was hopeful that he did.

“Fine! Be that way!” Bill sounded like he was huffing. “You should know this is the second time I’ve resorted to torture today!”

Norman heard a finger snap. The earth suddenly rose and clamped down around his wrists. Norman gave it what amounted to a courtesy struggle, but it was no use. Even if he wasn’t in the state that he currently was, he had no chance of breaking free of the earthen shackles. Another snap, and the floor he laid on began to rise and straighten, until he was perpendicular to the ground, suspended by the wrists thanks to the shackles. Through the haze and pain, Norman realized, disturbingly, that the piece of the floor he was hanging from had been shaped to bear more than a passing resemblance to a cross.

“There! Just like that fake thing you humans worship!”

Norman would’ve rolled his eyes if he could. So much for subtlety.

Bill circled Norman, all four his eyes searching the barren room. “I know you can hear me, Fordsy! I know you’re seeing this!” he bellowed. “Come on, Sixer! You know I can still make it worse for this kid!”

With his head hanging low, Norman chanced a glance at the collapsed doorway. He quickly looked away when he caught sight of three pairs of eyes peeking through the tiny gaps in the rubble.

No response came. Bill fumed, while Norman smiled in silent gratitude. “Alright, fine!” From a swirl of darkness, a giant nail materialized on one of Bill’s hands. He placed the tip against the palm of Norman’s left hand. The size was immediately made apparent, the ‘small’ tip covering the entire palm. On a different hand, Bill materialized a giant hammer. “I’m giving you to the count of three! Or this,” Bill pressed the tip harder against Norman’s hand. Norman had to bite down to hold back a scream, “becomes far more historically accurate!”

Norman glanced at the collapsed doorway again. There was still no apparent response. Good.

“One!”

Norman drew a deep breath. To say that this would hurt was an understatement.

“Two!”

Bill raised his hammer. Norman resolved to try his best to hold back his scream. Out of the corner of his eye, however, he spotted a light shining through the gaps of the doorway.

“Three!”

Bill swung his hammer down. The rubble blocking the doorway began to shrink. Norman nearly cried out in horror.

“Bill!”

The hammer stopped inches from the nail. Both vanished into thin air as Bill’s eyes lit up with glee. All Norman could do was shake his head in horrified disbelief.

Dipper stood in the doorway, flashlight held out in hand. Beside him were Mabel and Neil, both trying to pull him back into the room.

“It’s us that you want, right?!” Dipper yelled out again. “Let him go!”

There was a flash. A rift. A break in reality. For a moment, Norman saw two Bills. Another moment, and Bill was suddenly floating in front of him again. In one hand, he held Dipper, and in another, was Mabel. They struggled with all the strength they had, but there was no escaping Bill’s grip.

“Finally!” Bill raised Dipper and Mabel closer to his front-facing eye. “You kids really went out of your way to make things annoying for me! The good news is that it’s finally over! Bad news is, well, none! For me!”

Bill held Dipper in front of Norman, practically waving him around like a toy. “Couldn’t resist, can you, pine tree?” he mocked.

Norman’s gaze met Dipper’s. “Why?” he whispered, barely heard.

“I’m not just gonna let him do that to you,” Dipper replied, true and genuine. In any other circumstance, Norman would have felt happiness hearing that. Dipper cried out as Bill pulled him away from Norman.

“Now!” Bill leaned in close until his eye was at arm’s length from Norman. “How should I turn you into a corpse?”

Bill lifted Dipper and Mabel to his left-facing and right-facing eyes. “Any suggestions? Pine tree, shooting star?”

“Fuck you!”

“You jerk!”

“Just kidding! I already know the answer!”

Something fell from the ceiling to dangle in the distance between Norman and Bill’s eye. Norman’s blood went cold when he realized it was a length of blackened rope, tied into a noose.

“Just like back in the day! Isn’t that right, witch?”

Norman tried one last time to put up a fight, to will energy to surge forth once more, but even that was impossible in the state he’s in. A pair of Bill’s hands moved to wrap the noose around Norman’s neck, their motions bizarrely gentle and delicate. The noose was tightened; not yet enough to squeeze, but just enough to always make its presence known. Bill stepped back with a sick sense of pride in his eye. Dipper’s struggle heightened into a frenzy, spouting incoherent screams and Norman’s name. Mabel did the same, even as she broke down and tears started streaming down her cheeks. All Norman could do was watch their anguish as he teetered ever closer to submitting to his own.

“Going up?”

The shackles, the cross that held him crumbled into dust. The rope, the noose around his neck squeezed and pulled. It dragged him higher and higher to the dizzying heights of the ceiling. Panic quickly set in. Norman’s desperate, weakening fingers clawed against the rope that bit into his neck. Air was running out. Limbs were going numb. Darkness crept at the edges of his vision. Faintly, he heard the twins, calling out for him.

Terror, dawning. Despair, succumbing. Acceptance, settling.

Faintly, he heard Bill, threatening the twins with death.

Control, liberated. Anger, released. Hatred, unleashed.

Hatred. Hatred. Hatred.

Everything turned red.

Everything turned black.

“Last chance, Ford! You tell me how to break the barrier, or I turn these two into corpses!”

Bill’s voice was almost deafening as he loomed over the doorway into the room where the others hid, completely dwarfing it in this monstrous form. In Bill’s unrelenting grip, Dipper still struggled to break free. Despite what he had just witnessed happen to Norman, despite the pervading sense of despair within, he still struggled with all the strength he could muster. Across from him, Mabel matched his struggle pound for pound, even with her cheeks still caked with fresh tears.

“Great uncle Ford, don’t listen to him! He’ll just kill us anyway!” Dipper yelled out, his voice starting to become hoarse. He had no idea if it even mattered or not, but when no response came from the doorway, Dipper took that as a small victory.

However, that feeling was short-lived.

“Good point, Dipper!” Bill held the twins out under his gaze. “Maybe I should kill one first! Let’s take a pick, shall we?!”

Dipper turned to look at his sister, their gazes meeting with one another. Terror was clear in their eyes, for each other as well as themselves.

Bill’s pupil transformed into the shape of a shooting star. His eye locked onto Mabel, red light shining upon her like a spotlight.

“Eenie!”

Bill blinked. His pupil took the form of a pine tree. Dipper was bathed in red light.

“Meenie!”

He blinked again. A shooting star-shaped pupil. Red light shining upon Mabel.

“Miney!”

One last blink. Dipper closed his eyes. He braced for it come. At the very least, Mabel got to survive.

“M-!”

Thunder. Righteous and frightening. One that he didn’t just hear; he felt it. Shaking him to his core, leaving him feeling small and perilously mortal. His eyes shot open. A compulsion left his gaze drawn towards the sky.

Dipper looked up, and saw a storm.

A mass of black had engulfed the ceiling. It roiled and swirled, forming a tumultuous whirlpool of shadows. Breaks of light intermittently snaked from one patch of darkness to another. At its center, at the eye, was a blinding, yellow light. It looked unnatural, and it felt almost divine.

Dipper wasn’t the only one drawn to the storm. Mabel did too, staring in a mix of fear and awe. Even Bill had his gaze drawn upwards.

“What the-?”

Bill was cut off by a wraithlike shriek.

A flash of lightning. Dipper cried out when he suddenly felt himself falling. The landing was rough, but the hard ground was far more preferable than Bill’s grasp. Mabel landed the same manner, not too far from him. A few feet from the two was a shining, yellow shape, hunched over and panting. Looming above, Bill’s eye practically popped out of its socket, staring at his two severed limbs, the flesh exposed and burned, leaving a faint trail of black smoke.

Bill roared in pain as the shape rose to its full height.

The shape was none other than Norman. Beautiful, terrible lightning covered every inch of his being. It changed and shifted in every moment, nary a second of stillness. Snakelike flashes of electricity snapped and sparked at the air and the ground around him. His eyes were blank, yet filled with terrible, righteous fury. How he moved was unnatural, every motion and every twitch unnerving. Despite all of that, this was unmistakably Norman, his friend that he’d made at the start of summer.

Dipper had never thought he would ever see Norman and feel such a primal urge to run away from him.

Bill had ceased screaming. His eye glared death down at Norman. His remaining limbs burst into blue flame and he lunged.

“You deranged, little witc-!”

Norman spun around. He held a hand up, palm opened. The world turned white.

As color and sound returned, and as his sight recovered and he lowered his arms from shielding his face, Dipper jumped back in shock. “Holy-!”

The entire section of the Fearamid beyond Norman was gone. The ceiling, the walls, the hallway; all completely obliterated. In its place was a gaping hole at one side of the Fearamid, giving Dipper a clear view of the blood crimson sky of Weirdmageddon. Gale winds rushed in, already beginning to chip away the edges of the Fearamid that survived the attack. What’s more, at first glance, he saw no sign of Bill whatsoever.

Dipper’s stare landed on Norman. Could it be…?

“Hey, kid!”

Dipper couldn’t help but feel disappointed, when he heard Bill’s booming voice. That disappointment quickly turned into astonishment when he actually caught sight of Bill. Or, what’s left of him.

Out of his eight limbs, only two remained. Even then, one was already halfway gone. The entire lower half of his body was missing, and the same could be said of a small chunk of his just above his eye. Disgusting, dark red flesh sloughed and spilled off of him from every part where it was exposed. He was shaking furiously, painfully. He still had a glare fixed upon Norman, and it was one that could kill.

“You missed a spot!”

With a disturbing cry of pain, Bill quickly reformed all of his missing parts in a cacophony of horrible squelching noises. That nearly had Dipper groaning in frustration. The hope that steadily swelled in his heart came crashing back down. Even after that, Bill still shrugged it off like it was nothing. He’d imagine Mabel was thinking the same thing, based on how she slammed a fist to the ground. Norman, on the other hand, looked completely undeterred. At least, as far as Dipper could tell. He’s still having a hard time believing that the wraith of rage and lightning a few feet from him and Norman were one and the same.

Norman unleashed a chilling, wraithlike shriek; a voice that was not at all like the Norman that Dipper knew. With a burst of electricity, he launched himself and flew straight towards Bill, leaving a trail of crackling yellow behind him.

The approaching streak of light was impossible to miss for Bill. Blue flames burst into life on three of his hands. With a roar, he unleashed a wave of fire that sailed through the air at Norman. Norman easily danced in and all around the torrent. Darting around in speeds barely caught by the human eye, until he was clear of the onslaught. With another shriek, he doubled his speed, and was upon Bill in a split second. Bill desperately swerved to the side, but he wasn’t fast enough. Norman crashed into Bill’s right side, obliterating a sizable chunk of his body and two of his limbs in an explosion of flesh. The impact didn’t slow Norman down in the slightest, speeding past and leaving Bill to scream in pain. He flew up higher and higher, only seemed to be satisfied when he was among the clouds, far higher than even where Bill was. Bill’s missing flesh and limb quickly reformed. He turned his gaze upwards and glared. It was clear that neither had no intention of backing down.

The battle in the skies had Dipper so enraptured that he jumped when he felt a pair of arms tightly wrapping around him. He immediately calmed when he realized it was Mabel, hugging him, and he gladly hugged her back. A different pair of arms lifted him up to his feet. This time, they were Neil’s, who still had his eyes glued to the sky as he helped Dipper up. Not that Dipper could blame him. His attention was immediately drawn back to the fight as well.

Norman unleashed another chilling shriek, the electricity covering his skin sparking and crackling wildly, snapping against the empty air around him. The sky around Norman darkened, black clouds congregating into one, as if summoned by his cry. They grew so large that, for a moment, the blood red sky turned pitch black. It was so dark that Dipper lost sight of Norman’s shining form among the clouds. He had a feeling Bill did too.

Another shriek. The clouds burst into blinding, radiant light.

A torrent of lightning shot out of the clouds. They crackled through the air to join into one upon Norman. His form grew brighter than even the radiant clouds around him. He brought his hands together in front of him in a tranquil rage that bordered on unnerving. Energy surged towards his palms, manifesting as a chaotic mass of electricity that hissed and snapped like maddened vipers, fueled on even further by the lighting feeding into him, growing and charging until it became something truly massive. As it reached its apex, Norman fired.

Dipper shoved Mabel and Neil to the side, once he realized they were in the line of fire.

The bolt of lightning was the largest that Dipper had ever seen in his life. It looked less like a lightning bolt and more like a divine serpent that descended from the heavens. It pierced through Bill’s eye socket easily, it pierced through the Fearamid behind him, and it didn’t stop until it struck the ground. Dipper pressed himself and Mabel and Neil against the wall, desperate to put as much distance between him and the streak of light as possible. The world nearly turned blinding white again. The strike ceased; the red sky of Weirdmageddon returning and Norman’s form dimming to its normal glow.

“Again with the eye!” Bill cried out in pain, clutching the empty eye socket where his eye once was.

Dipper gaped at the mark the attack left on the Fearamid. Beside him, Mabel and Neil did the same. By this point, the Fearamid must be just a few careless knocks away from falling apart.

“D-do we… still need the ritual or…?” Neil said, nervously glancing at Dipper. By this point, Dipper had begun to wonder that as well.

He didn’t have long to think, as Bill’s furious roar broke him out of his thoughts. If it wasn’t clear that Bill had been pissed before, then there were no doubts about it after that.

Blue flame came to life from all six of Bill’s hands. He blindly fired it at all directions, flailing his arms around in a disturbing, mad frenzy, creating an ever-expanding ball of blue, fiery death. Norman was quick to dart around the flames, but even with his blinding speed, it wasn’t enough. He managed to dodge the brunt of the encroaching flames, but a stray trail of flame caught him by surprise and licked at his arm. Dipper gasped when he saw Norman veering downwards, the electricity around him sputtering out. However, it seemed he managed to catch himself, slowing down to a hover. He glared at Bill, furious, but visibly injured, one arm hanging limply at his side.

Without hesitation, Dipper turned to Neil. “Yes. Yes, we do.”

Dipper led the other two as they took off in a sprint towards the room where everyone else hid. Or, as it turned out, what was left of the room. The ceiling was gone and half of the room was replaced by a steep plummet to the ground far below. Thankfully, the ritual circle was left untouched. With the ceiling gone, everyone had a clear view of the fight that’s been occurring in the sky. Everyone, except for great uncle Ford, was transfixed, practically frozen in place.

Wendy was the first to break out of her stupor and actually notice that the three had returned. “I-is that… Norman?” she sputtered, weakly pointing at the sky.

All Dipper could muster was a slow nod.

While everyone was watching the fight, great uncle Ford was still hard at work chipping off pieces of the floor with a rock, and thank god for that. He really did take Coraline’s outburst earlier to heart.

“Finished!” Ford announced, stepping back with a relieved grin. That managed to gain the attention of everyone in the room.

The ritual circle was indeed finished. Half painted on the floor half carved out of it. The key to banishing Bill, once and for all.

“Everyone, step into the circle!” Ford shouted at the others. “Razputin and Lili, Coraline and Wybourne, Norman; they have bought us precious time! We must not waste it!”

Dipper was the first one on his symbol. “This is for them all! Let’s go!”

“For Gravity Falls! For the Mystery Kids! For the rest of the world!” Mabel grandly announced, standing tall on her symbol.

One by one, the others followed suit, stepping onto their respective symbols. This time, without needing to be told, everyone held hands with each other. Dipper wrapped his hands around Wendy’s and McGucket’s, and held them tight. Mabel did the same with Pacifica and Gideon. The only ones left that haven’t held hands was Grunkle Stan and great uncle Ford, and Dipper couldn’t but sense a horrible feeling of déjà vu. Silently, they gave each other a look; one that said more than a thousand words, more than what Dipper could infer from what he knew about the two. Still not saying a word, their joined their hands together. Everyone in the circle began to glow.

Dipper felt the familiar sensation something stirring within him, of an energy building up to a crescendo. Dark clouds formed far above, a looming vortex of shadow with the circle at its center. It wasn’t nearly as massive the clouds that formed during Norman’s attack, and it felt different too, somehow. Norman’s felt divine, otherworldly. This felt earthly. Natural.

Bill had been occupied with fighting Norman, but the growing mass of clouds finally caught his attention. His gaze shifted from the circling clouds down to the ritual circle. His eye widened.

“No!” Bill abandoned his fight with Norman, flying towards the circle at full speed. “No, no, no, no, no!”

Bill had murder written all over his glare. Dipper gulped.

A bolt of lightning clamped down on one of Bill’s hands. Seven more lightning bolts came to restrain the rest of Bill’s limbs. The streaks of electricity trailed back to Norman’s fingers, using them to hold Bill in place. Bill tugged and pulled on them with all his might, one time, two times, but Norman didn’t budge an inch. Dipper let out a breath he didn’t even realize he was holding.

The energy inside him finally reached its peak, Dipper could tell. He felt the energy leaving him; saw the glow rise from his body. The glow left everyone’s bodies, forming a circle of shapeless blue lights above their heads. Dipper watched, mesmerized, as the light above him assumed the form of a pine tree; his symbol. The other lights did the same; Mabel’s light forming into a shooting star, great uncle Ford’s into a six-fingered hand, Soos’ into a question mark, and so on. The lights had a gentleness to it, twinkling and shimmering almost merrily. Gazing upon them, Dipper felt a strange sense of tranquility washing over him. Peace. Relief.

The lights began to revolve, slowly at first, but it didn’t take long for it to gain speed. Gusts of wind picked around them, circling them, as if following the lights. The shapes lost their form as the lights revolved faster and faster still. They blurred together into a spinning, luminous, resplendent halo of blue light that grew brighter with every passing second. It began to shrink, the revolutions continuing to gain speed, condensing into a single point in the center of the circle. Bill bellowed a wordless roar. The light gathered into a radiant singularity. Dipper grinned.

He glared towards the sky, towards Bill. “Here’s to never meeting you again, Bill Cipher.”

The light launched with a high-pitched screech. A beam of blue sailed through the air. The lightning holding Bill dissipated, Norman darting out of the way in a blink. Bill had nowhere to run.

The light consumed Bill. It surged on unflinchingly towards the gaping rift in the sky. Bill pushed back against the light in a mad, frantic desperation. Pieces of his physical form began to crumble, the tips of his flesh sent back to the rift whence they came. In the throes of his enchanted banishment, Bill unleashed a roar of pure, violent rage.

“I’ll be back! Mark my words! Even if it takes another trillion years! I will return and burn this pitiful dimension into oblivion!”

More and more of Bill fell apart, dragged back to his dimension by the light. His hands, his legs, his top hat, parts of his body; collapsing into nothing but formless flesh and banished to never return. His eye was the last of him to remain, engraved into a seething glare. Dipper could’ve sworn that eye was glaring specifically at him.

“EMIT FO HTAED EHT LITNU, YTINRETE LLA ROF, REVEROF! EID DNA EVIL I, EID DNA EVIL UOY SA! ENIVID RO TLUCCO YB NEKORBNU! ENIM HTIW ECNETSIXE RUOY DNIB I!”

The last of Bill’s voice echoed throughout the land. The last of Bill’s presence in this world sent back through the interdimensional rift.

For the second time that day, the world turned white.

The sun was shining. Birds were singing merrily. Gravity Falls’ town square was packed with the townsfolk. All of them confused as to how they got there. All of them confused as to how everything returned to the way they were. All of them paid little mind to their confusion for the moment. For now, they all basked in the light.

Neil, standing up straight and tall after pressing himself against a corner for most of the ritual, basked in the light.

Wybie, spending a moment gasping in panic after suddenly freed from the terrible wires and needles that constricted him, basked in the light.

Mabel, still clutching Pacifica’s hand in a tight grip as if her life depended on it, basked in the light.

Lili, taking in a deep breath and staring in wonder at her form that now has returned to normal, basked in the light.

Raz, realizing with a start that the bleeding had ceased and the encroaching dome of water was nowhere to be seen, basked in the light.

Coraline, rubbing her unbound wrists and silently grateful to no longer be in the clutches of darkness and needle-like fingers, basked in the light.

Dipper, scanning the clear sky in search of a particular person he held most dear, basked in the light.

Norman, the one that Dipper was searching for, descended from the light. The electricity that covered his skin had calmed almost to a complete stop, ebbing away as he descended. The crowd parted and formed a circle at the spot where he would land. Dipper was the first to emerge into that circle. The rest of the Mystery Kids were only seconds behind.

Norman gently touched down upon the ground. The last of the electricity clinging on him dissipated into thin air, leaving him as regular, plain Norman. He stood there, staring blankly ahead, for all of five seconds before his knees buckled under him and his eyes rolled to the back of his head. Dipper was immediately there to catch him when he fell. He pulled Norman into a tight hug, a smile on his lips, tears rolling down his cheeks. Mabel joined the hug. Neil joined the hug. Raz, Wybie, Coraline, Lili; they all gladly piled on to the big group hug. Smiling. Crying.

No words were said. No words needed to be said.

They won.

And that was that, folks. The end of the Weirdmageddon Saga.

This was, without exaggeration, a gargantuan endeavor to undertake. While I always knew this would take a lot of work, I was still not prepared for just how much work there would be. I had to spend several consecutive nights staying up late to get this done in time. I had to wrestle with my own expectations and hopes of what this chapter is going to be to get this done at all. Not helping was the fact that I suddenly had a mountain of college work to do. In the end, I can only hope that I have done the story and event justice, I have done the characters justice, and I have done the hype I built up myself justice.

As for the chapter itself, personally, I’m overall pretty happy with how it turned out! I got to write awesome scenes that I have always wanted to write for months now, and got to write awesome scenes that popped into my head in the process of making this chapter. Not to mention, everyone actually got to do something cool in this chapter! I realized Wybie’s part in Part 1 being a highlight for a lot of people was probably because he’s the only one that got to do something cool in it. Although, full disclosure, I will admit that the power levels definitely got way buckwild near the end there, with Norman. Definitely broke someone’s suspension of disbelief. Here’s hoping I didn’t do that to too many people.

Now, while this might be the end of the saga, this is far from the end for this entire story. So, no worries to y’all who are thinking that this is the end. I’ve got stuff I’ve been concocting in the background for months now. New adventures, new enemies, and you guessed it, lots and lots of new additions to add to the team. For my plan right now, I have four more chapters that will act as sort of a bridge between this saga and the next. I’m hoping I can get them all done in December, so we can kick off the new year with a brand new saga! Get mega hyped for that, y’all!

Last but not least, I would like to thank you, the reader. To those who have stuck with ever since I started this fic like three years ago, and to those who have only recently discovered this fic, I cannot thank you enough. Your support and your kind words all this time are like the fuel that feeds my fire. With it, this fire has grown brighter than I ever thought was possible, and I am eternally grateful for it.

Thank you for reading, thank you for your support, and I hope you have a nice day!

#mystery kids #psychonauts #coraline #paranorman #gravity falls #razputin aquato #lili zanotto #coraline jones #wybie lovat #norman babcock #neil downe #dipper pines #mabel pines #ford pines #stanley pines #When You're A Mystery Kid

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thewriterisalwayswrite · 2 years

Text

“Careful with that, dear. One of those could cut a finger clean off.”

Ford had always found that once an idea had been placed in his head, nothing could keep him from it.

All he’d been doing was yard work. Basic cleanup and things like that, and some of it happened to involve pruners. He’d used pruners before, of course, and every time his mother was sure to tell him to be careful. And he was. Careful.

Everything Ford did was done with precision and with forethought. Unlike a certain identical twin brother, he always thought before going through with anything.

Which was why when he found himself alone in his bedroom at night with a pair of pruners and a first aid kit, he’d considered it carefully and come to a decision using reason and logic.

Of course, there would be no hospital visit. He couldn’t imagine his father being involved, and he didn’t particularly want to make his mother cry. Stan would be out until the next morning, which was one of the reasons he’d chosen that night specifically. Everything would be done, disinfected and bandaged by the time anyone saw it and could have anything to say about his impromptu surgery.

He took a deep breath in. Then out. He opened and closed the pruners a few times. He checked to make sure he had everything set up to be able to take care of things while in intense pain. Finally, he carefully placed the blades at the base of his extra finger and-

“The fuck is going on in here?”

Ford turned around so fast that he dropped the pruners. He felt them graze his hand as they fell to the floor and he scrambled to his feet.

“Stanley?” Ford silently cursed how quiet and pathetic his voice sounded.

“Yeah, who else would be-” the gruff voice trailed off as he moved over to Ford, roughly grabbing his hand and inspecting the damage. The knowledge of how much more damage would have been inflicted had Stan been just a few seconds later hung heavily over the both of them.

“What the hell is wrong with you?”

Ford had to admit, he hadn’t been anticipating the sheer rage in his brother’s voice as he was violently shoved back down into his desk chair. His breath caught as he stared up at Stan- he’d never been afraid of his brother, even if he was bigger, stronger, but now there was something wild in Stan’s eyes and Ford couldn’t say with certainty what he would do.

“Staney, I didn’t- I don’t- please, I-”

Ford cut himself off as he watched realization dawn on Stan’s face- he’d scared Ford, and that wasn’t something he’d ever wanted to do. Stan slowly reached a hand up to his face, scrubbing it over his eyes and taking a deep, calming breath.

“Ford, it’s okay. Fuck, no, it’s actually not okay. But I’m not mad at you.”

Ford tried to breathe, finding it a bit more challenging than it normally was. Stan gave him a few seconds to find his footing before cracking open the first aid kit and taking his brother’s hand once again.

A rough “hold on” was the only warning Ford received before an alcohol pad was dragged over the abrasion. He sucked in a pained breath. Stan didn’t apologize as he began wrapping the raw injury in a clean bandage with expert skill. It wasn’t long before Stan was finished, cleaning up and pocketing the tool that did the deed, making a note to put it somewhere inaccessible to his twin.

“Alright, come on. Start talking.”

#gravity falls #gravity falls fanfiction #fanfic #stan pines #ford pines #stanley and stanford #i'm not gonna finish this #but i thought i'd post what i have #tw self harm

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impishnature · 4 years

Text

Stray Feelings

AO3 Fandom: Gravity Falls Rating: G

A/N: Thanks anon! I hope you enjoy this <3 Also I think the prompt speaks for itself. Theres Feral!Ford and there’s fluffy animals.

Stan wasn't meant to be gone this long.

There was a strange atmosphere around the Shack as Ford paced, quick sharp steps and tapping fingers. Stan had a routine. He may not realise it but he did. Through the week he probably knew; get up, get dressed, work, go out on the porch to relax or in front of the TV if the weather was rough, sleep, rinse and repeat. That was simple, it made sense and Ford could integrate himself easily enough. At the weekend, or on days off, it was calmer and things could change if he only asked, Stan happy to jump at the chance to spend time together. But certain things were always the same, Stan got up, made himself a warm drink and sat on the porch for half an hour before coming in to make them both a breakfast that set off the rest of the day.

Only.

Stan hadn't come inside yet.

And deep down there was a voice laughing at him that it was nothing, that Stan was just taking his time and that was that. It was his day off, he was allowed, he didn't have to jump to Ford's whims and fancies.

But the much louder voices were the ones that itched to check up on him, to make sure he hadn't gone past the barrier or done something equally reckless. The alarm bells that clogged up his throat and set his heart racing so that he couldn't call out and get him to come back inside. It wasn't like Stan to deviate, he was a creature of habit and kept himself to himself, straying from the pattern set off too many warning signals for him to ignore.

And so he paced.

And the time Stan took outside stretched and stretched.

Until the 'what ifs' and awful cackling laughter got too much and he propelled himself at the door, brain ready and expecting a threat.

"Jesu- Sixer!"

The door cracked against the wooden wall and Stan yelped like he'd shot at him.

Ford blinked, the light outside blinding in it's intensity as he scouted for a threat in the distance, too amped up to wait for them to adjust. He could feel Stan in his peripheral, stumbling up from the floor and it only added to his anxious, heightened senses.

What was he doing down there?

"Easy, Ford, what's going on? What's happened?"

Ford frowned, finally turning to him as he groaned and stood up properly. He darted to his side, lifting him up and depositing him into the porch chair to another disgruntled yelp at his manhandling. Had he fallen? Why hadn't he called out for me?

Stan slapped his fluttering hands away, gently but still frustrated. "Sixer, I'm fine! Just tell me what's happened." His eyes were soft, searching Ford's face as he loomed above him. "I can't help if you don't tell me, Ford. Breathe."

"I-I-" Ford stared back at him, head tilting ever so slightly. It was easier to breathe now that it was obvious Stan was OK, and that meant the words flowed just that little bit easier. "You- uhm-"

And suddenly everything felt that much more childish and unnecessary.

The laughing, cackling voice from before suffocating the paranoid voices.

Paranoid.

"Nothing. Doesn't-"

"Oi. Don't do that. Whatever it is, it matters."

But did it really?

He didn't want Stan to worry about him more than he already did.

"Ford."

But perhaps that ship had already sailed.

"I- that is-" Ford huffed, scrubbing at the back of his neck as he stood up. "You were taking longer than usual."

Stan raised an eyebrow, though there was a strangely sheepish tilt to his mouth that he couldn't quite hide. "O-oh?"

"You usually, uhh, you tend to only stay out here for a little while-"

Understanding dawned on his brother's face and Ford's heart sank guiltily. "Or I tell you if I'm going somewhere, don't I? Shoot, sorry. I just lost track of time."

"No, no." Ford held up his hands. "I still overreacted."

Stan shrugged, an apologetic smile still on his face. "Well, perhaps next time I lose track of time, you'll remember this time."

Ford tried to smile back but he knew it wasn't fully working from Stan's expression. "Hopefully."

"Or you could always join me- maybe with less fanfare next time." Stan's smile turned more mocking, a sibling grin beginning to stretch from ear to ear.

Ford groaned. "Don't give me that look. But yes, next time, I'll- do my best to just check on you."

Stan shrugged. "Suit yourself. It's very calming out here in the mornings."

Ford stared at him for a few moments. He'd always assumed this was Stan's quiet time, away from the world, away from- well, him as well. "I'll keep that in mind."

"Good." Stan's face brightened, as if he'd just won an argument before his face fell again and suddenly he began searching at his feet. "Shoot. Wait, where'd it go?"

"...Stan?"

Ford watched as Stan almost forgot he was there, head snapping to him for a second before going back to his search. "Oh, right, well I did say I lost track of time. I kind of got distracted." He started making a strange noise with his mouth, soft clicks and pursed lips. It was a sound Ford was sure he'd heard before, but given all of his travels, everything had become jumbled together into a mix of signals, either angry or pleasant. This one came under the pleasant category at least, though his hackles still raised ever so slightly at the thought of another creature being on their porch that he hadn't even noticed.

He stayed silent, watching Stan's shoulders lock up even as he continued his hunt.

"So, right- this little thing came padding up to me while I was sat here. And I was going to come in and talk to you! But I didn't know what your thoughts were on strays and the like... so I was trying to come up with a good way to broach the subject and-"

He was starting to get agitated, and Ford couldn't have that.

It felt like he'd started this downward spiral.

"Slow down." Stan flinched and Ford hated it. "I didn't mean- just tell me calmly-"

A soft mew punctuated both of their words.

Ford watched as Stan leaned over as far as he could, a little pink nose peeking out from under the porch seat.

"There you are!"

He placed his hand within reaching distance, the little nose sniffing at his fingers before warily popping a whole head out and glancing up at Ford with worried eyes and downwards ears.

Ahh. He'd spooked it.

He squatted down beside the seat, hoping to appear smaller and less threatening, as the small creature shimmied it's way out of it's hiding spot and rubbed against Stan's hand, still watching him carefully. It was a skinny little thing, he could almost see ribs, but it seemed happy enough at the attention Stan was doting upon it. It was grey, though he was unsure on how much of that was dirt versus actual colouration, with short tufted little whiskers and big ears that it had yet to grow into. It mewed at him again, tiny teeth making their presence known as big brown eyes continued to stare at him.

"See? It's just a kitten." Stan's face was locked onto the little thing as if it were Mabel at her cutest. One of his fingers was big enough to scritch it's chin and it seemed happy to sit there and bask in the attention. "It stumbled out of the woods when it heard me. Even fell over half way along the trail like the kids did sometimes when they were too excited to just walk." He cooed at it ever so softly, Ford wouldn't have believed it if he hadn't heard it. "And- I don't-" He frowned, eyes darting to Ford. "Guess I've always had a thing about looking after strays."

Ahh.

Ford could understand that.

After everything, he could see Stan doing that.

Besides, as much as he had to fend for himself in his travels, and his hardships had been innumerable, sometimes you just couldn't resist helping someone or something else in need as well, regardless of the danger it put you in.

Ford put his hand out slowly to the kitten, extending the olive branch and waiting patiently for it to accept or reject him. It at least looked curiously at him from behind Stan's hand. "What were you worried about?"

Stan swallowed, rubbing the back of his neck. "I-I dunno. I mean, it is your house and your rules so. I guess I was scared you'd say no and I'd have to try and hide this little one on the porch so I could still feed 'em."

Ford was mildly offended. "It's our house." Stan looked at him strangely at that. Oh, had he never actually said it before? "It is."

Stan continued to stare before his smile widened again. "Alright, it's our house. But that still means it has to be a joint decision on looking after this little one until we find it a good home."

"Hmm..." Ford gave the kitten a joking once over as it slowly plodded over to him. "I mean it doesn't seem like a threat."

Stan snorted, Ford grinning along with him as he achieved what he'd hoped. "I swear to god if I find you running tests..."

"Well, you can never be too sure." Ford continued to smile as a cold, wet nose hit his finger, but his eyes trailed over to a little wonky tail and skinny legs. "Though I think any tests would be to check how healthy this little guy is."

"There's a vet for that."

"I'm better than a vet."

Ford could feel the eye roll he received but his focus was fixated on the little creature that was now too filled with curiosity to be cautious. It sniffed his hand, and then his coat, continuing up until both front paws were on his knees and a little face was stretching up to sniff his. He leaned down, letting the small creature continue its ministrations, scoping him out in a way that made him oddly proud but also oddly protective of the little child that didn't seem to understand that he could also be a threat.

He scooped the little thing up, pulling it into his chest. There was a soft yelp and more searching eyes as Stan started to tell him off but then the kitten relaxed, curling up into his arms against his chest. His heart was still beating fast from the earlier worries and the strange conversation but as the kitten relaxed against him, he could feel the tension easing.

It evaporated entirely when a soft purr emanated from the tiny body, slipping into his chest and warming him from the inside out.

"We're keeping them."

Stan beamed, fist pumping ever so slightly like they were teenagers again. "Yes! I'll go out later and grab some food and see if anyone's looking for a kitten-"

"No."

Stan paused. "What?"

"We're keeping them."

And with that Ford stood up, kitten still in hand and walked into the house, happily rejoicing at the peace the small creature was giving him as it purred in his grasp.

He heard an exasperated and confused voice behind him as Stan tried to catch up. "...Well, alright then. Guess that's that decided-"

He was sure Stan wouldn't mind.

After all, it had been his idea in the first place to look after the stray.

And they both knew deep down that once you were family to Stan, that was it for life.

He could pretend all he wanted, he'd have never been able to give the kitten up once he was attached to it.

And Ford was pretty sure from his earlier arguments and that fond expression he'd worn that it had already happened.

Yeah, he was sure Stan would forgive him.

#gravity falls #stanford pines #stanley pines #grunkle stan #grunkle ford #gravity falls fanfiction #feral!ford au

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detectivejigsawpines · 4 years

Text

Relatively Relativity-part 1 (if you go down in the woods today, you’re sure of a big surprise)

The Pineses go on a hiking trip one nice sunny day, and return...not quite how they were when they left.

Major thanks to DarylStorey for helping me brainstorm this story.

“WHOO-HOO!!!! YEAH!!!! LET’S DO THIS!!!!”

Mabel burst out the door of the Stanley Mobile like a multicolored comet, surging towards the trailhead at a speed that nearly broke the sound barrier and barely even being slowed down by the massive purple backpack she was wearing. It wasn’t until she’d reached it that she turned around and realized that her family was still taking their time catching up to her.

“C’mon guys, what’s the hold-up?” she pleaded, sprinting back across the parking lot to them. “We’ve got an adventure to go on, and lots of cool plants and animals to see! Let’s put some hustle in it, people!”

Stan stepped out of the car at a far more leisurely pace, looking less than thrilled about having to be awake at this ungodly hour of the morning (Ford had insisted that they go as early in the day as possible to avoid the heat and mosquitos). He rubbed his eyes with the heel of his hand and muttered, “Hold up, sweetie, not all of us’ve got young legs like you.”

“Ugggghhhh, you guys are so slow!” Mabel ran over to Dipper and tugged his hand impatiently. “C’mon, let’s see if we can get to the main trail before the old fossils!”

“Who’re you calling an old fossil?!” Ford demanded in mock indignation. “I can easily get there before you, missy!”

“Five bucks says you can’t!”

“You’re on!”

Seconds later they were both racing into the woods, leaving Stan and Dipper in the dust.

Stan glanced down at Dipper. “Surprised you’re not getting in on that.”

The boy grimaced. “You kidding? There’s no way I’d beat either of them. Mabel drank a whole pitcher of Mabel Juice this morning, and Ford’s...Ford.”

One bushy gray eyebrow raised, but Stan couldn’t help feeling a little pleased that the kid seemed a lot less insecure about his physical deficiencies than he would have been the summer before, when he was obsessed with trying to become more “manly.”

Now, though, he seemed content for the time being to trot along at Stan’s side, looking around for any unusual creatures that might be in the underbrush and absentmindedly clicking a pen with his thumb, while his other hand already had his pine tree journal open in case he saw something worth sketching.

Up ahead, they could hear excited crashing and whooping; seconds later there was a loud humming noise, followed by Mabel yelling, “Hey, no fair!”

“Completely fair!” Ford retorted, “You brought out your grappling hook, so I get to use the anti-gravity application on my watch!”

Stan and Dipper rolled their eyes in unison.

“Yeah, I’d definitely lose,” Dipper sighed in resignation as they rounded the bend in time to see Mabel trying ineffectively to slow Ford down by leaping from the branch she’d grappled onto and grabbing him around the legs.

********

Eventually all members of the Pines family were back on solid ground, and they began their hike. Stan and Ford told the kids stories about some of their adventures on the high seas, and in return the kids talked about what junior high school was like (mostly pretty terrible, since junior high is one of the greatest sources of evil since the Spanish Inquisition). Both old men sympathized with their struggles, remembering all too well how difficult being a teenager was, even when you’d just barely joined the world of angst and acne.

“Of course, it has its good points too,” Ford pointed out. “You don’t have to be in old creaky bodies like we are.”

Dipper harrumphed. “I’d take dealing with that over puberty any day of the week.”

“Yeah, at least then I wouldn’t have to be worried about starting my period,” Mabel said with a grimace.

All three men glanced at her uneasily out of the corner of their eyes.

“...Have you…?” Ford started to ask.

“No, but Mom says I’m old enough that I’ll probably get my first one soon.” Despite how uncomfortable a topic this was for her, she had to smother a giggle at how her grunkles and her brother all looked like they were seconds away from running away screaming.

At last Dipper cleared his throat and changed the subject.

“Besides, if I was a grownup then I could go into stores and buy pretty much whatever I wanted.”

“Yeah!” Mabel brightened. “Like age-inappropriate romance novels, or a bunch of puppies from PetsMart!”

Stan snorted, and affectionately rubbed his knuckles against her head. “Just so long as you never grow up too much.”

“Don’t worry, I won’t,” she promised, before gasping in delight and going over to the side of the trail to admire a particularly vibrant flower.

“Hey, Grunkle Ford, do you know what kinda flower this is?”

Ford came over to see it, and his eyes widened behind their glasses. “...Oh my. I’ve never seen one of those before.”

Stan and Dipper peered curiously over their shoulders at it.

It was, indeed, an exceptionally beautiful flower; it looked kind of like a wild rose, except that instead of being pink, its petals were a deep royal blue, and glowing faintly in the pale morning light.

Almost in unison Ford and Dipper grabbed their journals and started sketching it.

“It looks similar to some of the plants I saw in this one dimension,” Ford murmured, “except those were sentient, and generally tried to eat anyone who got too close.”

Dipper looked uneasy, and after a second he tugged on Mabel’s shoulder, pulling her back from getting too close to it. She was a little annoyed, but didn’t shove him off like she would have the year before.

“Do you think it’s magic?” Dipper asked. “I’m pretty sure the fact that it’s glowing means it’s gotta have some kinda magic, right?”

“In this forest, I wouldn’t doubt that it does,” Ford agreed. He sighed in annoyance. “I knew I should have packed my thaumometer for the hike! Why didn’t you remind me to pack my thaumometer, Stanley?”

“Probably cuz I was thinkin’ about more important things like how much I wanted ta go back ta sleep,” Stan retorted.

“Uh, is it just me, or is the glow getting brighter?”

It wasn’t just Dipper.

What’s more, as the four of them watched, the petals began to move, waving back and forth even though there wasn’t that strong of a breeze. As if that wasn’t weird enough, the petals started waving a little faster, and as they did, the glow that was on them started to...rise from them.

No, really; before their eyes it lifted into the air as a sort of pollen, doing a little dance in the beam of sunlight above the flower and growing into an ever-increasing spiral, showing a lot more pollen than you’d think would be possible from one single flower.

Dipper blinked, and swallowed nervously.

“Um, guys? In situations like this, this is when really bad things start to happen. Maybe we should-”

The pollen cloud hit him right in the face.

********

Apparently it had smacked into everyone else too; as Dipper closed his eyes and coughed and sneezed, he could hear his family making similar noises.

It was everywhere, getting in his hair, on his clothes, even inside his clothes and making him even itchier than usual, oh come on!

Dipper stumbled back, scratching frantically and trying to spit out some of the stuff that had somehow landed in his mouth, gross!

“Ugh, what the heck?! That stuff tastes like mothballs!”

Dipper froze.

...That voice didn’t belong to anyone in his family. It was a voice belonging to a young boy, probably someone about his age.

“...Who said that?”

Dipper clamped his hands over his mouth with a frightened squeak when he heard his own voice; it sounded...wrong, somehow. Like it had actually gotten deeper, like in that story he’d told about drinking a potion that made him sound like a TV announcer!

Hesitantly he opened his eyes, blinking away any traces of the pollen that were left, looking for his family-

And came face to face with a startled-looking old woman in a baggy purple sweater.

“Aaaah! Who are you! What did you do to us?!” he demanded, lurching back and putting up his fists. Then he quickly slipped off his backpack and whirled to pull out the knife he kept in there-he didn’t know what use it’d be against a witch or whatever she was but it was better than nothing-but then two things happened at once.

One: a sudden sharp pain locked up in the small of his back, nearly pitching him to the ground with how bad it was.

Two: he got a good look at his hands.

Something was wrong with Dipper’s hands.

They were twice the size he remembered them being when he first woke up this morning, and all weird and wrinkly-looking, with a few blue veins standing out against the knuckles.

Dipper let his backpack fall to the ground, stammering in horror.

“What-what the-”

“...Dipper?” the old woman’s voice quavered behind him. “Is that you? It’s me, Mabel.”

Dipper slowly turned back around, managing to straighten up with an effort, and looked at the woman again, more closely this time.

She looked just as frightened and confused as he was right now, with a lock of her long gray hair clenched between her fingers on the left side of her head and being wrung in her hands. Her sweater looked a lot like the one Mabel had been wearing, except older and less sparkly.

Dipper looked into her eyes.

“...Mabel?”

“Yeah, it’s me, bro-bro.” She tried to smile.

Just then something moved in the corner of Dipper’s line of vision, and he turned his head to see two boys standing there and rubbing pollen out of their eyes.

One of them was wearing a tiny tan trench coat and a red woolly beanie, and when he opened his mouth to cough out some more pollen Dipper could see he had a tooth missing. The other one wore a red turtleneck with a blue coat over it, and had a pair of large spectacles perched on the end of his nose. He staggered a little, and pushed them up with two fingers. Allowing Dipper to see that his hand had an extra finger on the end.

The boy saw Dipper staring at him in dawning horror, and his eyes widened.

“Dipper? Are you-are you and Mabel old?!”

“Grunkle Stan?! Grunkle Ford?!” Mabel crouched down and stared at the boys slack-jawed. “Are you guys young?!”

********

There was a moment of silence.

Then a flock of birds was startled by four voices all screaming in unison.

#gravity falls #grunkle stan #grunkle ford #dipper pines #mabel pines #cousin to relativity falls #age swap #next summer in gravity falls #humor #hiking trip gone horribly wrong

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quarantine-au · 4 years

Text

Hurt and Trapped Chapt 6

Hiya https://archiveofourown.org/works/23729677/chapters/57408421 :p

——

It was dark and late, and if it hadn’t been for the flashlight in the emergency supplies, Ford probably couldn’t have gotten home the same night. Frankly, Ford was happy enough to get out of there fast…

Seeing two monsters both taking his nephew’s image was something he’d rather see as little as possible.

Going back was something he’d obviously have to do, if just for the demon, of course. Its power was something he’d have to study, if he had it in him, that is. Being involved with Weirdmageddon could wildly vary its power, ranging from a simple three eyed bird to rival Bill himself. With that kind of uncertainty, runes and wards had been a must. Keeping the monster in the cryotubes had been tempting, at first, but putting in actual thought into the idea had proven it to just be a lazy and destructive idea. What if the demon had the power to escape? The havoc it could wreck could be catastrophic! So, as tempting as the cryotubes had been, as tempting as it would’ve been to just leave the whole situation alone and be done with it, keeping it around with wards seemed to be the best option.

Ford would be eternally grateful towards the Oracle for showing him the wards and runes, maybe one day he’d be able to repay her.

Shaking his head, Ford navigated his way through the forest, looking for the Shack. Tiredly walking through the dense and dark forest with only a flashlight illuminating its light across the forest, Ford found the Shack, his old cabin. It’ll be nice to have the place back when the summer is done. He’d be able to finally relax, he could even maybe try to find Fiddleford again. That’d be pleasant.

Walking to the aged cabin, Ford slowly opened the door to avoid creaking, judging from the sky, his niece is very likely to be asleep already. Hopefully Stanley would just leave him alone or be asleep already so he could just go into the basement and try to find a way to move the demon in there. Come to think of it, things would be easier that way, no Shifty, no going back and forth, and an easier way to keep his eye on the thing. Yes! He’d just set up the lab to be a holding chamber! Or maybe that could be the second level, and the basement could be utilized for experimentation! It’d be empty and unused once he got rid of the portal pieces. Maybe he’d get it to show its true form.

Maybe he could get it to show him where his nephew was.

What a comforting thought.

——

Poindexter shoulda been back by now.

It was getting dark, and while Stan knew that Ford could more than take care of himself, he couldn’t help but worry, how could he not?

He could only wish Dipper was with him, that Ford found him and was bringing him home. That Ford was only taking forever because he was helping Dipper from whatever the hell kinda situation the kids always got in.

He really just hoped Sixer came home with the kid in his arms unharmed.

The whole day was spent lookin for him, Soos and Wendy promised to join in the search tomorrow, wanting to catch up with their families. They deserved the break.

Everyone had just lived through Hell, even if his family was still going through it.

What was he going to tell the kid’s family?

Christ, what was he going to tell them? He’d either have to lie or tell the truth, each option having their own set of repercussions. Lying would mean having to deal with cover stories and what those would bring, telling the truth could go a number of ways, most being bad. What were the chances Mark and Anna would believe him? Maybe if they showed Ford to them, or the basement? Maybe even the forest-y junk would work.

Stan sighed, looking down into the cup of coffee he was drinking, taking comfort in his yellow chair.

Old, drained eyes stared back.

He swirled the cup around, distorting his image in the brown liquid.

He heard the door open and snapped his head towards the small noise.

“Ford, ya back already?”

His twin froze, sighing inwardly. “What is it-”

“Why ya home so late, Poindexter?” Stan asked rather briskly.

“Why wouldn’t I be late? Dipper’s been missing.”

“We agreed to be home by nine, idiot”

“I know the time we agreed to be home by. I just…I got caught up”

Stan glanced up to his TV, then back to his brother standing by the doorway.

“Your lucky Mabel’s been too distracted to be worried” He hissed.

Ford could only sigh, “Is that all?”

He had better things to do than bicker with Stan, dammit!

“We’re going looking tomorrow too, Mabel will be with whoever she feels comfortable with,” Giving his brother a defeated, yet accusatory look, he continued, “You can go hide in the basement now”

Ford could only stare incredulously at his former best friend.

—–

Racing through the woods, flashlight in hands, was Mabel Pines.

She wanted to get as far away from the Shack as possible, what could be even better was going somewhere near where the Fearamid had previously been.

Where it had all taken place.

Dwelling on it wouldn’t help. Just find the area and start searching again. Find Dipper where he was probably lying cold on the grassy floor and hug him to oblivion. Soon as he woke up she’d drag him home and everything would be better again. Just like it was meant to be.

God knows how much she couldn’t wait for that.

The Fearmid had been over the forest right? A bit away from the town? She didn’t need the exact location, just the area. She could just search the area.

Arriving in what she believed to be the right area, the young girl slowed down, taking time to digest her location. It was odd, being out here so late at night. It was just something she didn’t put under her liberal term of the word “safe”. It really wasn’t if any of Dipper’s nerd junk was to be true. And looking from her window, in her comfy, warm room, she wouldn’t doubt it for a second, despite the forest’s obvious beauty. She couldn’t deny it was nice out though, the ending Summer leading to chiller Fall made it a sight to envy. The silent ambiance disturbed only by the sounds of crickets chirping. It made her both content and uneasy, somehow.

She started to search through the late night and early morning.

She barely noticed as the minutes turned to hours.

Her tired mind unnoticing of the early dawn that those hours delivered to her.

Why would she?

The lone dirty PineTree hat sitting on the healthy grass kept distracting her.

—–

Thanks for reading :D

#heavy variant #fic #ford #stan #mabel #submission

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redwoodwrites · 4 years

Text

Fun Hazard

AO3 link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13368537

Summary: Before the twins leave for Piedmont, Mabel takes them on a short adventure in the forest.

“BLAAAAAH!”

Ford woke up when something large and heavy landed on his stomach. He jack-knifed to a sitting position and fell off the couch. “Ow! Mabel?”

“IT'S FUN O' CLOCK, PEOPLE!” she bellowed. “RISE AND SHINE!”

Stanley, still sitting on the couch, groaned and cracked his joints as he woke up. Ford and Stanley had fallen asleep on the porch, reminiscing over their boyhood, sharing the adventures they'd had in the forest. At some point, Ford had fallen asleep against his brother, and apparently they'd stayed outside like that all night.

Ford squinted blearily at the sun. “Mabel, it's six in the morning. You haven't been possessed by a rooster again, have you?”

“Puh-lease. You see this sweater?” She stood back. Her handmade earth garb sported a stylized purple octopus with a blushing smily face. “Ain't no rooster's got style like Mabel.”

“Actually, with a double-negative –”

“Mabel?”

They turned. Dipper had appeared in the doorway, yawning and rubbing his eyes. He was soaking wet. “Please tell me you didn't rig the water-balloon alarm clock over my bed. It's too early to murder someone.”

“Then it's my lucky day!” she sang. “C'mon, everybody! We've got two days left at the Falls and I've got BIG PLANS! WOOHOO!”

It took a few minutes, and a lot of loud singing, but eventually Ford let himself be led into the kitchen. Mabel had one hand on his sleeve and the other on Stan's old robe, with Dipper trailing behind.

“I'm gonna make you guys the best breakfast EVER!” she announced. “Smorelets and toast with jelly made from actual jelly beans and juice!”

“Fruit juice?” Dipper asked cautiously.

“Probably!”

Stanley snorted. “Yeah, no, I'm gonna cook 'cuz I ain't got a death wish.”

“I take it Mabel has cooked before,” Ford said wryly, taking a seat at the table.

Dipper shrugged. “Mostly she just makes Mabel Juice. You do not want to know.”

Stanley cooked pancakes while Mabel bounced around him, singing at the top of her lungs and pulling out every topping conceivable for said pancakes: the Jellybean Jelly, powdered sugar, Maple syrup, ice cream, and a rather frightening assortment of off-brand Halloween candy. No telling how old that was. As much as he loved the holiday, Ford made a mental note to stay clear.

Finally the meal was ready, and Stanley put a huge stack of pancakes in the middle of the table. Mabel insisted on putting the toppings all around the pancakes in a flower shape while Dipper passed out the plates. Ford, feeling rather obligated to help, offered to do the dishes.

“Sweet, now I can make as much of a mess as I want!” Mabel said gleefully. She grabbed a stack of pancakes with her hands, loaded her plate and drowned them with syrup. Ford laughed.

They settled down to eat. It was strange, eating with his family. Normally he was on the lookout for inter-dimensional bounty-hunters, and since his recent return to this dimension, he'd eaten in his lab (when he remembered to eat at all). This was different. Companionable. He found himself less interested in the pancakes than in watching his family.

Well, some of his family. Mabel shoved pancakes into her mouth at a frankly unnerving rate, so he quickly looked away. But Dipper and Stan, he noted, both ate their pancakes the same way: filling them with powdered sugar, rolling them up, and eating them like burritos.

Mabel caught him watching. “They call it the 'True Breakfast Burrito',” she said, spitting a few crumbs because her mouth was so full.

Dipper winced. “Ugh, Mabel...!”

“Don't just sit there, smart guy,” Stanley said, his mouth also incredibly full. He nodded at the pancakes. “It's a free-for-all. Take what you want.”

Ford took another pancake and put it on his plate, then scooped out a little pat of butter to put on top. He ate it slowly, listening to the breakfast conversation. Mabel and Dipper had planned a “Weirdmaggedon Outta Here” party for the supernatural creatures they'd met over the summer.

“We can do it tomorrow,” Dipper was saying. “Everybody's probably still freaked out over the whole Apocalypse thing, anyway. Betcha the hospital's packed with people.”

Ford raised his eyebrows. “The hospital? What made you think of that?”

“Oh, well...” He ducked his head. “I've, uh, been there before. Had some issues with...forks.”

“Ah.” One guess what that meant.

“Did you know Soos' mom used to be a nurse?” Mabel asked cheerfully, and poured maple syrup directly into her mouth.

Ford winced. “That can't be good for children.”

Dipper grinned. “Mabel hasn't exploded yet, but Stan and I took bets. I'm thinking she'll drop of a sugar coma by next Wednesday.”

“I've got money for this Saturday at the latest,” Stan said, putting another bottle of syrup on the table.

“Hey!” Dipper protested. “That's enabling! And cheating! You're not supposed to do anything to influence the bet!”

“Says you.”

Ford grinned. “I'm all for long shots. Put me down for three weeks from today.”

When they were done eating, the kids cleaned up and Mabel fed her pig. Stanley got dressed and Mabel hustled them all into the Stanley-Mobile car. There was a brief argument over who would stay to watch Waddles, but Mabel refused to stay behind, so they ended up squashing the pig in the back seat with the twins. They drove off, under orders from Mabel to head straight to the mall. Ford sat shotgun next to Stanley, who, quite frankly, drove as if he was half-blind.

“Are you sure you don't need stronger glasses?” Ford asked, gripping the car door as they took another wild turn.

“Sure I'm sure.” He ran over a road sign. “Just sit back and enjoy the ride, huh?”

“OOOOH!” Mabel shrieked, and Stan nearly flipped the car.

“What the Maple Syrup, Mabel?!”

“Grunkle Stan, Grunkle Stan, you have to stop the car!”

“What for?” he demanded, but Mabel opened the door and he stomped the brake so hard the car burned rubber. She jumped out, came around to Ford's door and pulled it open.

“C'mon, c'mon, Grunkle Ford, you have to see this!” she squealed.

“What, what is it?” he asked, but he let her pull him out of the car.

They'd stopped on a turnout, and the road, as ever, was lined with redwoods. Ford remembered the place dimly from his previous explorations of the forest. It was known for its weirdly glowing pink rocks and the little scampfires that liked to hide among them.

Mabel pulled him into the forest, the rest of the family hurrying to follow.

“Where are we going?” Ford asked her.

“You'll see...here!”

They came to a clearing and stopped. It was about ten feet in diameter, and most of the space was taken up with a pile of the glowing pink rocks, arranged in a distinctive heart shape. Stan came up on one side of him, panting, Dipper and Waddles close behind.

“Wow, Mabel,” Dipper said, surveying the area. “This looks like a lot of work. When did you do this?”

Mabel grinned, sweeping her hands exactly like Stan did when introducing an exhibit. “Welcome, Dipper and Gentlemen, to Mabel's Heart of Bold! I made it after that run-in with Cellestabellabethabelle.”

Ford winced. “Ugh. Her.”

“Haha, yeah...anyway, I was wandering around like a little lost kitten when I saw all these glowing pink rocks. And I thought, aw, they're like little hearts! And that's when I got this idea!”

Ford bent slightly for a closer look. “I thought scampfires collected these. How did you manage to get ahold of so many?”

“Easy! I taught them a neat trick and they let me keep the rock art until the end of the summer.”

“A trick?”

“Watch.” She stepped over to Dipper and whispered in his ear. He blushed and darted a quick glance at Ford.

“Mabel, seriously?” he whispered. “Here, now?”

She grinned. “Unless you have a better one!”

He screwed up his face, thinking, then sighed. “I got nothin'. Fine, here we go.”

The twins faced the rocks, opened their mouths, and sang:

Friday night, and we're gonna party 'till dawn Don't worry, Daddy, I've got my favorite dress on! We're rollin' to the party, the boys are lookin' our way...

At this point the rocks, which had been glowing a steady pink, began to pulse with a reddish light. The longer the twins sang, the stronger the pulses, until they were flashing pink and red. Then, under Ford's amazed gaze, the rocks began to change color. The whole heart rippled like a rainbow was flowing over it, a dazzling display of turquoise, indigo, orange, and butter-yellow. Ford caught his brother's eye and grinned – Stan's face was bathed in green light, exactly the color of money.

“Green suits you,” he whispered, as the lights played over their faces.

Stan grinned back. “Me? Look at you.”

Ford looked down. His body was glowing yellow. He stared at it for a second, then started laughing. Stan slung an arm around Ford's shoulder and Ford leaned into his brother, listening as Stan joined in the song.

Oooh-oh! Girls do what we like, Oooh-oh! We're takin' over tonight.

The song ended and the rocks gave a last burst of brilliant color, lighting up the trees like miniature fireworks. All four Pines thrust their fists in the air at once.

“Pines! Pines! Pines! Pines!”

A/N: This was just a quick thing, but I think I like how it turned out. Hope you guys liked it, too!Also please feel free to leave a comment and check out my other works!

#gravity falls #grunkle stan #great-uncle ford #family bonding #dipper pines #mabel pines #after weirdmaggedon #rock art #scampfires #power of mabel

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anistarrose · 5 years

Text

To See The Unseen - Ch. 3 (Gravity Falls)

Summary: Mabel and Pacifica both receive visits from ghosts with very different intentions.

Warnings: nightmares, brief canon-typical violence, descriptions of a hospital room

AO3: archiveofourown.org/works/20884673/chapters/50274419

This is starting to look more like a five-chapter fic because I got an idea for an epilogue, so stay tuned for two more parts after this one!

***

Truth be told, Stan had thought that entering Mabel’s dreams would be harder. He wasn’t sure if he’d been expecting her to resist, or simply that it would’ve taken more concentration on his part — but in reality, all he had to do was blink, and when he opened his eyes, he was surrounded by vivid colors and funny animals.

It frightened him the more he thought about it, knowing that it was probably this easy for Bill too, and that this was all the effort it took for him to enter someone’s mind with his surely less-than-benevolent intentions. Stan hoped that Bill wasn’t watching him now and getting any ideas — because at the end of the day, the threat of his family being tormented scared Stan more than imprisonment in a mirror ever would. It didn’t seem like that realization had occurred to Bill yet, but there was no telling what he might do if he noticed Stan poking around in Mabel’s dreams…

But there wasn’t much Stan could do about that now, other than try and get in and out of here as quickly as possible.

“Mabel?” he called, stepping over a sleeping Ducktective as he surveyed the area. “You in here, pumpkin?”

A sickeningly neon young man, who Stan recognized from one of Mabel’s favorite direct-to-VHS 80’s cartoon movies, stuck his head out of a nearby bounce house and blinked a few times, tilting his head like a confused puppy.

“Hey dude, you look suspiciously not-radical! You’re not from ‘round here, are you? What do you want from us?”

Stan held up his hands. “Look, I’m just trying to talk to my niece. Trust me, I know exactly how weird this is, and I don’t like it either! I don’t want to be invading her dreams, and I definitely didn’t mean to get turned into a ghost —”

“Oh! You’re from the real world, aren’t you? That would make more sense.”

“Uh, yeah? Where else would I be from?”

The dream boy lowered his voice to a whisper. “Mabel has other dreams besides us sometimes — hard to believe, I know. But those dreams… they’re pretty different from us. We don’t really vibe with them, if you know what I mean, so we keep our difference — or at least, we try to, but they still sneak in here sometimes. More often than usual, lately.”

“Well, that’s ominous,” Stan muttered. “Mabel wouldn’t happen to be with those… those other dreams now, would she?”

The dream boy shrugged. “I dunno, man. Why don’t you follow her footprints and find out?”

“Footprints?” Stan looked down, and sure enough, a set of tracks was visible in the golden, crystalline sand beneath his feet. The imprints were too small to be from his own dress shoes, but just the right size and shape to have been left by Mabel’s sneakers. “Oh, those prints. Thanks for the tip, uh… which one are you again? Xyler or Craz?”

“Even I don’t know, bro! What even is the self, when the only reality I’ve ever known is just a series of another being’s fleeting dreams? David Hume postulated that —”

“Alrighty then, I’m gonna go find Mabel now.” As the dream boy grew preoccupied with quoting dead philosophers, Stan set off in the direction of the footprints — following them down the hill, past a group of sledding stuffed animals, and into a forest of lava lamps. Mabel had taken a winding and haphazard path, doubling back on herself a few times, and Stan got the feeling she’d been more or less sleepwalking, without any specific goal in mind.

He exited the forest to find himself standing on a beach, where the yellow sand fizzed and popped like crystalline candy where it met the waves of a deep pink ocean. The view overhead was as clear as could be, with countless fantastical constellations animating and chasing each other across the dark purple sky, and the whole place smelled of sugar and artificial fruit flavorings.

But the whole coast was barren of life except for Mabel’s footsteps, which led directly into the water.

“Mabel?” Stan called. “Can you hear me?”

No response.

Maybe his voice was still as silent to her ears as it had been in the real world. Maybe she wouldn’t be able to hear him even if he found her.

But he couldn’t just give up now. He followed in Mabel’s footsteps towards the fizzing boundary between crystals and ocean, pinching his nose as the smell intensified, and then stepped in.

Instantly, he realized it wasn’t water. It was more like syrup, sticky and viscous and sickly-sweet, and the receding waves tugged him forwards until he was in up to his knees before he knew it. But he had a better view at what lay beneath the surface now, and he could make out a small, blurry light source illuminating the ocean from below — yellow and five-pointed, like the shooting star on Mabel’s favorite sweater.

“Is that you, sweetie? Can you hear me?”

He was up to his waist now, then to his shoulders. He stood on his tiptoes as the ocean floor slowly dissolved beneath him. Instinctively, he knew he still had a chance to struggle free and escape the dream, but with each wave that passed by him, he only grew only more and more determined that he wasn’t going to leave.

“Hang tight, Mabel. I’m coming.” He took a deep breath, and dove beneath the surface.

Surrounded by dense liquid and fizzing bubbles, it was difficult to see and even more difficult to move — but Stan imagined himself sinking towards the light, and sure enough, some force propelled him downwards. He always had been good at manipulating what happened in his own lucid dreams, and it was reassuring to know that the talent had carried over to Mabel’s dreams too.

The star was coming into clearer focus, and Stan extended an arm towards it, only to hit something solid that collapsed beneath the force of his touch. The dark purple seafloor began to crumble away, revealing an even darker chasm below in which the star still floated, and a whirlpool swirled into existence around it, catching Stan in its vortex and pulling him in —

He crashed through the earthen roof of a room he didn’t recognize, nearly hitting his head against a boulder as a deluge of water carried him down the tunnel. It took him a few seconds to come to his senses, but when he did, he instantly recognized the voice he heard echoing from within the next room:

“Take that! And that, you shapeshifting jerk!”

“Mabel!” Stan broke into a frantic run, hurtling around the corner —

He saw an alien, insectoid monster with bulging red eyes swing its claw-like arm towards Mabel, but she darted out of the way and clocked it on the head with a piece of pipe. It collapsed like a rag doll the second she struck it, toppling to the ground and slowly shrinking until it resembled…

“No,” Mabel whispered, “no, no, no…”

The shapeshifter, now in the form of Stan’s unconscious body in his hospital gown, heaved out one last breath before lying very still as Mabel rushed to its side.

“Grunkle Stan, I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean to! You’re going to be okay, you have to be okay, I didn’t mean to —”

“Mabel!” Stan rushed to her side and gently pulled her away by her shoulders, lifting her up and wrapping her in a hug. “It’s okay, sweetie. That guy’s just a nightmare — the real me is right here with you, and I’m okay, I promise.”

“What?” Mabel had instinctively buried her face in the shoulder of Stan’s suit as she cried, but she looked up now, a realization beginning to dawn on her. “Grunkle Stan? Why are you… glowing blue?”

“I had a little accident,” Stan admitted, “but you and me and your brother are all gonna fix it together. I know we can.”

He set her down on the ground, and snapped his fingers in the direction of the shapeshifter’s body, which promptly dissolved into a swarm of swarm of blue fireflies that took off through the bunker. “That’s better. Having to look at that guy was no fun, was it?”

Mabel rubbed her eyes. “Am I dreaming?”

“No! Well, yeah, but this is the real me you’re talking to — and you’ve gotta bear with me here, you can’t wake up just yet. There’s a lot I still need to tell you!”

“What happened to you? How are you unconscious in real life, but also in my dreams?”

“I… found a cursed artifact. Like, really, really cursed — it looked just like a fancy compact mirror, but it pulled my soul out of my body… hey, you know what? Let me ask you a weird question: you know Bill Cipher, right?”

Mabel immediately tensed up. “He did this to you?!”

“Not quite,” Stan corrected her. “I did this to myself — just me and my recklessness, all on our own — but Bill stopped by a while ago to tell me how the mirror worked.”

He held out a hand and concentrated, summoning an image of the mirror much like Bill had earlier, as he gave Mabel the condensed version of what had happened to him and everything he’d learned from Bill. He left out the bits about Ford and the portal, as well as the detail about how a new person scrying should in theory release him — he didn’t want the kids getting any dumb ideas. He didn’t want them trying what he’d do if their roles were reversed.

“He said that once it’s been twenty-four hours since I used the mirror — so at about eleven PM tonight, I guess — I’ll be trapped inside the portrait forever.” Mabel gasped, and he put a reassuring hand on her shoulder. “Bill said he could get me out, but only if I do him a favor — which I’m never going to do. Not after everything he’s done to my family. I’m not taking his deal.”

“But you can’t just give up!” Mabel told him, grabbing him by the lapels of his suit and shaking him with surprising force. “We need you back here with us, Grunkle Stan!”

“I’m not giving up. I never will — we’ve got that in common, all of us Pines.” Stan smiled, despite himself. “There’s only one time I’ve ever given up in my life, and that was when Gideon took the Shack — but you know how that turned out. You and Dipper saved the day, and proved me wrong.” He patted Mabel on the head, mussing up her hair. “And now I know better than to lose hope ever again.”

“But how will you get back in your body all on your own? Do you have a plan?”

“Not really,” Stan admitted. “Not yet. But I know the type of guy Bill is, and I know how he works. He’s just a big old liar, and he’s not always as good at it as he thinks he is. He’ll make it sound like I’m doomed without his help, but odds are, there’s a loophole somewhere that I can use to escape all on my own. We just need to get the mirror back from the Northwests, so you and Dipper can take a look at it and put his nerd brain, my scam artist brain, and your creative brain together to figure this thing out.”

Mabel took him by the hands. “And if we can’t find a loophole in time?”

“I do have a Plan B, if it comes down to it. There’s definitely a reason why it’s not Plan A, but… it’s always there in case we need it.”

Mabel stared into his eyes, tightening her grip on his hands. “Promise me you won’t do anything risky, Grunkle Stan? We’ve all been really worried about you — Dipper and Wendy and Soos and I…”

“I’m not leaving you, kiddo. Promise.”

Mabel hugged him. “Good.”

Her arms began to flicker, as did Stan’s, and the dream slowly faded to white.

“I can’t talk to you when you’re awake, so you’re going to have to get the others caught up. But I’ll see you again soon, don’t worry.”

He blinked, and found himself floating in the hospital room again, watching Mabel wake up and rub her eyes.

“Hey, Mabel,” Soos said glumly. He looked more exhausted than Stan had ever seen him, even on the days he’d tried to come into work sick. “There haven’t been any updates…”

“You guys, I had an idea!” Dipper practically kicked the door open as he barged back into the room, and Mabel jumped.

“We could use the mindscape spell to find Stan’s memory of how he got knocked unconscious! And if those memories work anything like the way they did last time we were in his mind, we might even be able to communicate directly — Mabel, what’s so funny? This is a serious idea —”

Mabel snickered as she shook her head it Dipper. “You’re right, it is a good idea — but the thing is, Stan kinda already beat you to it.”

***

The hospital room’s quietly ticking clock read 12:15 PM when Mabel finally finished catching the others up on what Stan had told her through her dream.

“You said the Northwests have the mirror now?” Dipper asked.

“Yeah, Stan saw Pacifica take it back to their mansion.”

“The Northwests would never willingly let us take something valuable they owned even if they had two hundred extras,” Wendy declared. “I vote we break in and steal it.”

Mabel gasped. “Okay, Pacifica may be a rich one-dimensional jerk, but she’s not a murderer! If we told her our grunkle’s life was in jeopardy, I’m sure she’d help us!”

“Break in anyway,” Stan told them. “Why are you passing up a morally justifiable chance to do crime?”

“You’re probably right, but I’m not betting Stan’s life on a spoiled rich kid’s moral compass,” Dipper told Mabel. “And even if she does want to help, there’s no guarantee her parents would go along with it.”

“I saw on the news the other day that her parents are out of town for the weekend,” Soos spoke up. “Took a big helicopter and everything.”

“Oh, that explains why they haven’t thrown a hissy fit yet about how the Nathaniel Northwest statue from the town square got stolen last night,” Wendy said. “The second they see it’s gone, they’ll probably sue the city for ruining their family’s image or something.”

Stan groaned. “We have eleven hours! Eleven hours, and you’re on track to spend all of them just sitting here torturing me by exchanging Northwest gossip!”

Dipper flipped through Journal 3. “The Author was no fan of the Northwests. I wonder if he left any blackmail material on them that we haven’t exhausted yet…”

Ford. The realization hit Stan like a truck. I’ve been stuck as a ghost for half the day and I haven’t even tried to do the thing I wanted the mirror for in the first place. I haven’t tried to find Ford!

The kids continued talking amongst themselves, though most of their words went in one of Stan’s ears and out the other.

They’ll be at this for a while — I’ve got time. I made it into Mabel’s dreams, how hard can it be to do the same thing with my own twin? I can do this. I can finally see him again…

The voices and other ambient sounds of the hospital faded as he concentrated on his brother’s face, and reached out into unfamiliar expanse of the multiverse.

***

“Here’s what I don’t get, Grandpa. Can I call you Grandpa? ‘Great-Great-Grandfather’ takes too long to say.”

Cracks formed at the statue’s shoulder and elbows as Nathaniel repositioned his stone arms into a shrug. Why not?

“Why did you only come back to haunt us now? You died almost a hundred and forty years ago, from that riding accident —”

Nathaniel’s eyes flashed orange, and wisps of smoke began to snake out from between the cracks in the statue. Riding accident? Is that what they told you? Well, it certainly did happen at the stables…

“...It didn’t have anything to do with the horses there, did it?” Pacifica realized out loud. “It was the mirror!”

Tell me, granddaughter: what else do the history books say about me? Do they talk about my discoveries in the field of the occult?

Pacifica shook her head.

Of course they don’t! Nathaniel roared. My own two children, Felicity and Eli, disapproved of my study of the monstrous. They thought our influence as Northwests should only extend to the mundane — and so, as I aged and they took more control of the family fortune for themselves, they conspired against me to hide my discoveries from the public! I was a nineteenth-century wizard, Pacifica, and they thought I was insane! I could’ve extended the Northwest’s influence to a whole new society of supernatural beings, but they called me a crazy old man and hired servants to keep me far away from the woods of Gravity Falls!

“That’s horrible! You had a vision, and they stifled it!”

It was horrible indeed, Nathaniel agreed, but the worst betrayal was yet to come.

He gestured to the lantern Pacifica had brought on her ride last night, which was now resting on her bedside table. I see you found my old lantern — did you know that with just a tiny tuft of animal hair added to the oil, it gains the power to illuminate ghosts? I developed that spell myself!

“Really? I didn’t even know this lantern was yours — you must be some kind of genius to develop that spell on your own!”

I certainly am, and it brings me no small amount of joy to see a member of my own line finally appreciating my work! One day when my overbearing children were out of town, I used that lantern to follow several spirits through the forest and out to the farthest reaches of the town, where I discovered a cave —

His voice lowered to a growl. And inside that cave, I found the beast.

The smoke escaping from his ghostly form condensed into a triangular shape, which Nathaniel smashed between two stone fists. Though at the time, I called him my Muse — I had a great many questions, and he had answers. For several months, I made discovery after discovery — capturing new anomalies for scientific analysis, charting the woods and the cave systems…

“But he turned on you too, didn’t he?”

At first, it was just simple disagreements. Different priorities. He wanted us to study other worlds, but I thought Gravity Falls still had untapped potential! More territory to annex, more undocumented supernatural residents to charge rent for their use of our lands — do you have any idea how rich unicorns are? They practically frolick in fields of golden coins! My Muse grew impatient with me, refusing to answer any of my questions that didn’t relate to gates between worlds, but I kept summoning him. Who did he think he was, withholding information from me? From Nathaniel Northwest?!

A hand made of smoke extended from the statue, taking hold of the mirror. But when I told him as much, my Muse not only ‘apologized,’ but in his infinite wisdom, suggested a ‘solution.’ He admitted that he was disinterested in my current work, but helped me create a device that would make me just as all-seeing as he was, so I could continue my research all on my own. And for twenty-four hours… the mirror worked like a charm. I was omniscient.

He flipped open the mirror to reveal the current picture — depicting a gray-haired man in a familiar suit and tie, still lacking facial features. But when my portrait was completed, I was trapped. I couldn’t see anything, least of all my mortal body. My power only grew over my years of imprisonment, and I transformed from a ghost that couldn’t touch the physical world into this powerful specter you see now, but in a cruel twist of fate, I couldn’t leave the mirror to do anything with that power.

Pacifica squinted at the current portrait. “Hang on. Is that…”

Be careful, granddaughter. Stare into the mirror with the intent to scry, and you’ll be trapped yourself. Nathaniel snapped the mirror shut.

The isolation wasn’t even the worst part, he went on. No, the worst part was thirty-two years ago, when I glimpsed freedom! A foolish young researcher was snooping on Northwest property and found my reflective prison, attempting to scry and freeing me in the process — but as it turned out, he was my Muse’s new pupil. His more useful pupil. And so that beast cast a spell over the mirror he’d instructed me to create, freeing his current pawn and trapping me back inside!

“But what did he and his new pawn end up doing? You mentioned something about other worlds — was he some kind of alien?”

If you haven’t seen the result of the beast’s plans all these years later, then he surely failed, Nathaniel mused. Good for him. I can concentrate on extending the family business to the supernatural market, and finally prove my children wrong!

He rubbed his chin. Though at least they managed to insert me in all the history books as town founder, earning me the posthumous respect I deserve! And commissioned a mighty fine statue to commemorate me, at that —

“Actually, Grandpa,” Pacifica interrupted, “most of the town knows you weren’t the founder, as of last Pioneer Day.”

They WHAT?

“Yeah, uh… a couple of kids my age, Dipper and Mabel Pines, dug up some top secret Quentin Trembley documents. Dipper especially made a big deal about rubbing it in my face and telling as many people as possible.”

A tiny bit of stone from one of the statue’s eyes liquified, dropping to the ground and hissing as it struck the floor.

Well then, Nathaniel murmured, I’ll have to let those meddling Pines children know that that’s unacceptable.

***

“I’m gonna stay here,” Soos told the others as they prepared to set off for Northwest Mansion. He pointed towards Stan’s body. “It just feels like someone should stick around to keep an eye on him, you know?”

“Good idea,” Dipper agreed. “That way, you can text Wendy if the doctors have updates.”

Mabel glanced around the room, not sure quite what she was looking for. “You’re here watching us, aren’t you, Stan? If you’re ready to go get the mirror back, can you give us some kind of sign?”

Aside from the ticking clock and beeping heart monitor, the room fell silent. No chills moved through the air, and no objects suspiciously fell off shelves.

“Well, I’m sure he’s still keeping an eye on us,” Mabel assured the others. “Let’s get going.”

***

(End notes:

Thanks for reading, comments/reblogs are appreciated as always! This is the chapter that’s changed the most from the outline so far, since I really love mindscape stuff and elaborated on Mabel’s dream a lot more than I’d planned to. Also, Nathaniel is an overdramatic monologuing capitalist asshole and writing him is very fun.)

#gravity falls #stanley pines #mabel pines #pacifica northwest #dipper pines #wendy corduroy #soos ramirez #fic: to see the unseen #rosalia writes fic

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harley-sunday · 5 years

Text

The Draw (07)

Summary: The whirlwind starts at the 2018 ACE Comic Con in Phoenix but you’re not sure where it will end...

Pairing: Sebastian Stan x reader

Warnings: Language

Word count: 3922

AN: This chapter is lacking a bit of Sebastian, but I promise I’ll make it up in later chapters :) Please let me know what you think though! I don’t have a taglist, but if you follow Harley Sunday x Sebastian Stan you should see any update I post.

Masterlist

“I have to go home,” you say again, the words leaving your mouth in a whisper, the weight of the situation finally dawning on you then and you look up at Sebastian, not sure where to go from here.

He’s silent for a moment, eyebrows knitted together as he seems to think things over before he says “Ok, what do you need?” His voice is soft and you’re not sure he even expects an answer but he continues before you have a chance to say something, “You need to get on a plane, get home, the sooner the better, right?” He looks at you now and you nod slowly, which spurs him into action.

You watch him pull out his phone and go through his contact list before he puts the phone to his ear. You think you hear him say, “Hi Julie,” but the the conversation is rushed and you are so lost in your own thoughts that you don’t really hear anything else. It isn’t until you see him pocket his phone that you notice he’s ended the call.

He turns towards you, “Can you fly?”

“I, uh,” you shake your head, eyebrows knitting together in confusion. “What?”

He drags a hand over his face before holding it out to you, “I’m sorry, what I meant was, uh, if I were to drop you off at the airport right now, do you have everything you need to fly? Passport, keys, wallet-”

“I guess so,” you say, because everything he’s just mentioned is actually in your purse and for once you are thankful that you always carry around the important stuff, more often than not schlepping around your bag when Lauren just brings her phone and maybe some money. You shake your head then, “But everything else is still in my hotel room, I don’t-”

“Don’t worry about that,” his hand is on your arm now, rubbing it gently, “If you give me your key card I promise to have everything delivered to you before Wednesday.”

“Ok,” you draw out, not sure you want him rummaging through your things per se, but then realizing that you really don’t want to lose precious time by stopping at the hotel first. You dig through your purse and pull up your wallet, handing him the key card.

“Alright, come on,” he grabs your hand and tugs you along to the exit of the marina. “I had Leo waiting for us anyway, so might as well have him take us to the airport, right?”

You can only nod, not giving the missed opportunity of what Sebastian had planned for you next too much thought, because you’re relieved when you see your driver from earlier this morning leaned against the car in front of you. Leo nods and smiles at you, but then Sebastian explains the sudden change of plans and his face turns serious, a concerned look in his eyes as he gets into the car.

Sebastian lets go of your hand and opens the door for you, watching you as you get in before he closes it again, joining you on the backseat from the other side. He turns to you as he starts to explain, “Julie’s booking you on the next flight out, which leaves at five thirty so you’re going to be at Charlotte around two local time, which is super late, I know, but the next flight isn’t until tomorrow morning and-”

“Thank you,”

He smiles an apologetic smile, “It’s the least I can do,”

The ride to the airport is short, taking no more than twenty minutes, and so you are not really ready to say goodbye when you pull up in front of the departure hall. You turn towards Sebastian, but he holds up a hand to stop you before you can say anything.

“Can you give us a minute?” Sebastian asks Leo. He turns to you once Leo’s outside, scrunching up his nose as he takes your hand in his, an apologetic smile on his lips, his thumb rubbing soothing circles on the inside of your wrist, “I just want you to know that I really like you,”

Your heart skips a beat then and you feel heat rising up in your cheeks, because Jesus, this is the last thing you expected him to say. You just nod, not trusting your voice right now.

“And that as far as I’m concerned, this isn’t the last time we see each other,” he continues, using his free hand to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear, his fingers tracing your braid as he looks at you again, “Promise me you’ll stay in touch?”

You nod slowly, your eyes darting across his face, trying to remember every little wrinkle and laughter line, until they land on his lips and all of sudden the quote “Do it now or forever wish you had” runs through your head, and before you know it you place your hands against his cheeks, feeling the stubble of his beard against your palms as you lean forward and brush your lips against his.

You feel him smile into the kiss as he leans in just a little, his mouth pressing against yours as his hand sneaks into your hair. He pulls back after a few seconds, scrunching up his nose when he looks at you, “You’re going to miss your flight,”

“Yeah,” you breathe, reluctantly letting go of him and grabbing your purse from somewhere beside you. Your heart’s racing inside your chest and you wish you could stop time for just an hour or so, not wanting to leave him just yet. All of this just feels like something that could have been, some distant glimpse into a future you’re not sure you’ll ever get to explore now. Your hand is on the door handle then but still you hesitate, turning back to him one last time, your lips placing a quick kiss on his cheek, your voice just above a whisper when you say, “Thank you, for everything.”

He just smiles, “I’ll be seeing you.”

After you’ve picked up your boarding pass at the Delta desk, you clear security in under five minutes, arriving at the gate with enough time to give Lauren a call.

She answers at the first ring, “Babe! I was just thinking about you, how are you?”

“I uh,” you start, not sure how to continue, deciding then it’s best to just bite the bullet, “I’m on my home, Laur, Nathan’s been in an accident and it’s, I don’t know, it’s not good.” You have to bite your lip to keep from crying and you can feel people staring at you, but you just look down at your feet, not wanting to see them looking.

“Jesus,” she mutters quietly before she continues, “Ok, what do you need from me?”

“Could you pick me up from the airport?” you ask, your voice unsteady because of the unshed tears.

“Of course, babe,” she replies, her voice soft, “When do you land?”

You look at the boarding card that you’ve stuck in between the pages of your passport, “Five past two.” You shake your head, “Shit, if it’s too late, I’ll get a cab, Laur, don’t worry about it.”

She tuts then, “Don’t be ridiculous, I’m there.”

“Thank you,”

“Ok, I don’t want you to get upset right now, so we’ll talk when you’re here ok?”

You nod your head even though she can’t see you.

“I’ll see you soon, babe,” she continues, “Safe travels.”

“Love you,” you whisper, still fighting the tears. You hear her return the sentiment before she hangs up and its then you hear your flight being called over the PA system, letting you know they are ready for boarding.

When you arrive at Douglas International five and a half hours later you feel tense and so you pretty much run towards the exit, not having to stop at baggage claim helping immensely in your need to get outside as fast as possible. You rush towards exit E, where you and Lauren always wait whenever you pick each other up from the airport, and sure enough, there she is, leaning against Tracy, her old but trustworthy Ford pickup truck.

She holds out her arms when she sees you and you let her envelope you in a tight hug, the tears you’ve been holding in all day finally falling. “Oh, babe,” she says, as she strokes your hair, letting you cry because she knows you’ll have to be the strong one for a while now.

You let her hold you until you’ve calmed down enough to realize you need to get going, so you pull away, and try to smile, “Thank you.”

“Babe,” she counters, shaking her head ever so slightly, letting you know there’s nothing to thank her for.

You climb into her truck and rummage through your purse for a tissue to blow your nose in. You flip the sun visor down and check yourself in the mirror as she pulls onto the road and drives towards Wilkinson Boulevard, which will get you to Carolinas in about twenty minutes. Your face is blotchy and your eyes are red, and the braid you styled so carefully this morning is slowly coming undone, but it will have to do.

Lauren doesn’t push you for any information and you’re not really ready to talk about everything yet, so the drive over is quiet, each of you lost in your own thoughts until she pulls up in front of the main entrance of the hospital and turns towards you, “Are you ok?”

“Yeah,”

“Keep me in the loop, ok?” she asks before she leans over and gives you a hug, “I’ll probably swing by after work either way.”

“Thank-”

“Nope,” she just says, pushing you out of the car.

You quickly locate the front desk and try your best to smile when you walk up to the nurses sitting behind the desk, “Hi,”

The younger one of the two looks up from her computer and smiles back, “Hello.”

“I uh,” you clear your throat, “I’m here to see my brother, Nathan (Y/L/N)?”

“Ma’am, it’s almost three at night, visiting hours don’t start until ten this morning,” she says with a sympathetic smile.

“I know, but I just flew here from L.A., and I would really like to see him,”

“I’m sorry, ma’am, but that’s not-”

“You’re Sarah’s sister-in-law, right?” the older nurse asks with a smile.

You nod, “Yes, ma’am,” realizing then that this is the hospital Sarah’s worked at before she transferred to Novant Health two years ago, so she could work closer to home.

“Oh, sweetie, don’t you worry,” she says, before turning to the younger nurse next to her, “Call up to ICU for me, will you? Tell them she’s is coming up to see her brother.” She turns back to you then, “Just take the elevator up to the third floor, sweetie, someone will pick you up from there, ok?”

“Thank you so much,”

“That’s ok, sweetie, go on,” she nods her head towards the elevator bay, “your family’s been waiting for you.”

A male nurse picks you up and escorts you through the maze of hallways, nodding his head to the waiting area when you get to where you have to be, “There they are.”

“Thank you,” you say for what feels like the umpteenth time today and watch as he walks back to the nurses station you passed on your way here before your eyes dart across the waiting area. You see your parents sitting side by side, your father’s head resting against the wall, snoring quietly while your mother is filling out a crossword puzzle in a newspaper she must have picked up at the gift shop. Sarah and Jake are sitting on the other side of the room, Jake’s head in his mother’s lap, hugging the Winter Soldier’s figurine close to his chest while he’s whispering things to himself. Sarah’s stroking his hair absentmindedly and it isn’t until you walk over to her that she notices you.

“Hi,” you say quietly, placing a kiss on her cheek, before you ruffle Jake’s hair, “Hi, bud.”

He looks up then, his eyes widening when he sees you and he leaps to his feet, throwing his arms around your waist, “Tante!”

You stroke his back and try your best to fight back the tears that have started to form in your eyes. You see your mother getting up out of her seat and she walks over to you, her hand on your shoulders as she stands next to you and kisses your cheek, “Hi, sweetie.”

“Hi, Mom,” you reply, leaning your head against hers for a moment.

Jake pulls back then and looks up at you, “Dad’s had surgery.”

“I know, bud,” you say, “Mom’s been keeping me updated while I was on my way over here.”

“They say he’s probably going to be asleep for a little while,” he continues, frowning then, “but they don’t really know for how long exactly.”

“Yeah,” you say and try your best to smile, “Dad’s probably going to take advantage of it, don’t you think? Try to sleep in, like it’s Sunday morning or something. Expecting breakfast in bed when he wakes up.”

Jake giggles then, “Yeah!”

You pat his hair and push him towards his chair, “I’ll just go see Dad, ok?”

“He’s in there,” Sarah says, nodding towards the room in front of you as she gets up out of her chair, her arms folded around her waist, hugging herself.

“Thank you,” you pull her in for a hug and rub her arms before you let go of her, hating how lost she looks.

You’re biting the inside of your cheek as you walk over to him, but you stop and hover in the doorway for a second, knowing that entering the room will only make it that much more real. You take a deep breath and push your shoulders backwards as you take the next step, a quiet, “Oh, Nathan,” escaping your lips when you see him lying there.

You stand at the end of his bed, your hands holding on to the foot board for support because you’re sure your legs will give out any second. There’s a lump in your throat that proves difficult to get rid of so you just stand there, looking at his bandaged head, when suddenly your eyes widen in shock from the realization that his injury is in the exact same spot as where you felt that sharp pain yesterday and it’s then you notice your hand’s absentmindedly rubbing your left temple. Never before have you two felt that twin-connection thing people are always talking about, but then again, neither of you have been seriously hurt up until now and so you wonder if maybe that’s why.

One of the machines beeps then and pulls you out of your thoughts and you look at your brother who’s frowning a little now and you wonder if he’s dreaming. You want him to know you’re there so you walk over to the side of the bed and put your hand on his, whispering a quiet, “Hey loser,”

You half expect him to reply with his usual, “You’re the loser,” but of course he doesn’t and you have to bite your lip to keep from crying. Your fingers fold around his and you give his hand a little squeeze, before you pull the chair behind you a little closer by hooking your foot behind one of the front legs. You drop your purse on the floor beside you and sit down, your hand still on his, your thumb stroking the back of his hand slowly as you clear your throat, because it seems silly not to talk to him.

“I know you’re not going to want to hear this, Nate, but you should really start wearing your seat belt,” you scoff quietly, shaking your head. “It wasn’t cool in college and it isn’t cool now, and really, just put the damn thing on next time you’re in a car ok?”

You gasp when you see his face scrunch up for a moment, but then it relaxes again and you wonder if you’ve imagined the whole thing or if he really did hear you. You let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding and clear your throat again, unable to get rid of that lump, “Sarah and Jake are ok, thank God, but they’re scared about losing you, just like Mom and Dad are. I mean, obviously I know that everything’s going to be fine, because you still owe me twenty bucks from that time I bet you I could fit twenty marshmallows in my mouth, so you know, I’m not letting you get away with that just because you were in an accident.”

You shake your head and drop your voice, “But honestly, Nate? It’s time to wake up, ok? I know this is probably a very comfortable bed, and it must be so good to be able to catch up on some sleep but,” you look at him, squeezing his hand, “we need you here. With us.”

“How is he?” Sarah asks once you step outside.

“Probably the same as when you last saw him,” you say as you sit down next to her. “He looks ok, though, you know?”

“Yeah,” she agrees, “His vitals are good and so is everything else, so really it’s just about him waking up and then seeing if there’s any permanent brain damage.”

“Oh god,” you mutter quietly, because you hadn’t even thought of that.

Sarah turns towards you then, “Can I ask you something?”

“Sure, anything.”

“Could you take Jake home with you for now?” She looks down at your nephew, who’s asleep, his head resting in her lap, “We don’t know how long it’s going to take until Nathan wakes up and I just, I feel like maybe this isn’t the best place for Jake to be right now, you know?”

“Of course,” you say, glad that there’s something you can help out with, instead of having to wait around the hospital all day. “Does he have school this week? I mean, I have the rest of the week off, so I can bring him and pick him up, no problem.”

“Hmm,” Sarah hums, “He does, but maybe we should let him stay home today, I mean, it’s almost morning and he hasn’t even slept yet.”

“Yeah,” you agree.

“I’ll call his teacher before school and explain what happened, and then I’ll guess we’ll just take it day by day.”

“Ok,” you smile. “Listen, is there anything I can bring you tomorrow when we come back during visiting hours? Or do you want to go home now and pick some things up now?”

She shakes her head, “I’m good for now, but uhm, if you could swing by the house tomorrow before you get here that’d be great.”

“Of course,” you say, placing your hand on her arm and giving it a little squeeze. “Just text me a list, ok?”

She nods, “Thank you.”

“Hey, no need for that,” you smile. You nod towards your parents, “I could try to get them to go home, you know, if you’d rather be here alone-”

“Oh no, that’s fine, I like having them here,” Sarah says, smiling a little.

“You ok, bud?” you ask, looking at your nephew through the rear-view mirror as you pull out the hospital’s parking lot in your parent’s car. Your mother gave you the keys when she heard you were taking Jake home, claiming that if she or your father wanted to go home they’d walk, living close to the hospital anyway.

He shrugs and yawns, not really answering your question, instead resting his head against the window and closing his eyes, too tired to even speak after you woke him up minutes earlier.

Your heart goes out to him, and you know all the events from earlier today must be a lot to take in at just eight years old. You keep glancing at him as you drive home, but after a while his quiet snores tell you he’s fallen asleep again and you focus on the road instead, even though there’s not much traffic this time of night.

Pulling up onto your driveway, parking behind your own car, you grab your purse from the passenger’s seat and sling it over your shoulder once you get out. You open the back door slowly, your hand on Jake’s shoulder to keep him from keeling over as you unbuckle his seat belt and pick him up, closing the door with your foot. He’s still sleeping and so he’s heavy in your arms, your first few steps a little unsteady until you’re used to the weight before you quickly make your way to the front door.

You don’t turn on any lights once you’re inside, instead making your way upstairs to the guest bedroom, which in truth is just Jake’s room because you don’t really have any other guests, the Spiderman bed sheets adorning the bed making that very obvious. You fumble around with his shoes, and being able to only use one hand makes untying his shoe laces a challenge, but in the end you manage and you carefully lay him down after you’ve removed the sheets. He’s still in his clothes but you don’t want to risk waking him up and so you decide that it’s ok for one night. You tuck him in and kiss his forehead, whispering a quiet, “Night, bud.”

Pulling the curtains close before you step out onto the hall, you leave the door slightly ajar and turn on the tiny light at the end of the hall so it’s not completely dark. You kick your shoes off somewhere in your bedroom and grab a hoodie and a pair of yoga pants that you change into before you head downstairs, knowing that you won’t be able to sleep much anyway. You drop your purse onto the couch and walk to the kitchen, where you find a bag of groceries sat atop your kitchen counter. There’s a note from Lauren tucked underneath that tells you she didn’t want you to come home to an empty fridge and that she picked up a few things after you called and you hug the note to your chest, wondering what you did to deserve such an amazing best friend.

You put on some water for a cup of tea and while you wait for it to boil you unload the bag, letting out a quiet, “Aw,” when you find a bar of chocolate on the bottom, carefully unwrapping it and breaking off a piece to enjoy later. Your tea is ready then and you walk back to the living room, grabbing the blanket that’s draped over the back of the couch before you sit down. You put it over your legs and snuggle up into the corner, your tea placed within reach on the armrest. Your about to reach for your purse to send a text to Sebastian that you’re safely at home, when you hear little feet making their way downstairs and when you look up you see Jake standing at the bottom of the stairs, rubbing his eyes, “Tante?”

“Yeah, bud?”

“I just had a dream that Dad had an accident,” he says, his bottom lip trembling.

#The Draw #Sebastian Stan Imagine #Harley Sunday x Sebastian Stan #sebastian stan x reader

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babybluebanshee · 5 years

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Seared With Scars - Epilouge (Mystery Nerds AU)

And here we are at the end, my friends. I'd like to thank everyone who's stuck with me through the frankly insane and arduous undertaking. I keep every single comment that people leave on my stories, and reading yours on this one is what eventually inspired me to get back in the saddle and pick it up again after two years. You guys are pretty damn awesome. I'm probably not gonna do something this ambitious again for a good, long while, but the Mystery Nerds series is far from over. So enjoy the ending, and hopefully we can all venture into the unknown once more very soon.

“Although the world is full of suffering, it is also full of overcoming it.” - Helen Keller

---

Helen hesitated only a moment as she slid her key into her front door. She knew, logically, that there couldn’t be anyone from the Society on the other side, waiting for her. There was no Society left. There was nothing to be afraid of in her home. And besides, she had to go in. Her spare pair of glasses were in her nightstand. She needed them. Darryl had graciously driven her all the way back to her house, when he had a family of his own to get back to, just so she could get them and Stan wouldn’t have to leave Ford’s side.

Plus it couldn’t be more than thirty degrees out here and she was freezing.

She had to go inside.

The sight of her keys, still stained slightly with Louise’s blood, made her gut feel things differently.

Darryl spoke up from behind her. “Want me to go in first?” he asked, his voice gentle.

“Thanks,” she muttered. Hot shame pooled in her cheeks for a moment as he walked past her and turned the key, but she stamped it down. Even though she knew that there would not be anyone in her house, she had every reason to be anxious. She wasn’t going to let shame keep her from trying to get better anymore.

And the first step towards healing was admitting that the trauma was there.

Darryl swung the door open and walked in, looking from side to side as he went. He motioned to her, an indication that he saw nothing out of the ordinary. She pooled all her courage and followed him inside, holding her head high.

The house was very much the same as she and Stan had left it. She noticed, with a wry sense of annoyance, that Stan hadn’t even pushed in the dining room chair he’d been sitting in while Darryl patched up his bleeding head.

“You need me to check your bedroom too?” Darryl asked. His tone was one hundred percent serious. Helen had no doubt in her mind that he’d search the entire house, top to bottom, if she’d asked.

“No, that’s okay,” she said. “Go ahead and have a seat. I won’t be too long.”

She started down the hall, her hand trailing down the wall to keep her steady, and immediately, a flash of memory popped into her head, of turning around and finding a stranger in a red hood staring back at her. It was followed by a stab of fear because where was Stan, what had they done to him! She felt Darryl’s presence at her side. She looked over at him and he smiled sweetly at her. He was going with her now, and it seemed like there was no arguing it.

She found that now, she didn’t mind.

There was no one in her bedroom.

There was no one in her house.

She was safe.

She had a friend.

They walked down the hallway together, and Darryl said, as casually as if they did this all the time, “I thought you might like to know the status of our friends, the former cultists. I didn’t want to say anything while we were at the hospital. Didn’t want to be overheard and stir any memories, ya know?”

“Give me details, man,” she said, leaning towards him exaggeratedly. She felt a bit silly, but she needed some silliness right now.

“Well, for starters, Louise is going on extended leave. Absolutely no word was mentioned about her coming back.”

“I would say that I’m sad we’re gonna be stuck with sourpuss Sharon for a while, but Louise did break into my house and punch me in the face.”

“Maybe they’ll actually hire some who doesn’t have staggering emotional issues to replace Louise,” Darryl said.

They reached her bedroom door, and Helen peered in. The only evidence of what had happened to her was a small brown stain on the carpet, less than a foot from where she stood at the door frame.

She had expected seeing that stain would have been what made her crumble. Miraculously, she found it elicited no thought other than she was going to have to call a carpet cleaning service on top of her optometrist and goddammit did Louise have to make her life harder?

And that thought just made her laugh quietly to herself as she crossed the door frame and walked to her nightstand.

“Also Matthews is in talks for his retirement.”

“I knew he and Andrea had been talking about that for a while before she died.”

“Yeah, everything just kinda fell through after that. But apparently his daughters have been pretty insistent. I think what happened kinda brought it all to a head. Liz has got Meg on a flight up right now.”

“Damn. I don’t think Ed’s getting out of it this time if she’s flying up here all the way from New Mexico.”

She pulled open the drawer and there, sitting on top of a pile of dried out pens and pocket change and spare tampons was her spare pair of glasses, slightly dusty with disuse, but at least in one piece. And with a relatively recent prescription.

“Right? But even they’re not playing as dirty as Ruth is right now with Muggins.”

“Oh, Leroy’s in trouble.”

Darryl laughed. “Yep. Ruth was giving him an earful right before I got to Ford’s room. Something about this job of his prematurely aging her.”

“Funny, I thought that was because she drinks grain alcohol out of a measuring cup.”

“Semantics. Point is, they’re leaving. I heard the words ‘timeshare’ and ‘Fort Lauderdale’ right before I got to Ford’s door.”

“Sounds utterly heinous.”

She slid her glasses on, and the first thing that came into view was the phone. Not for the first time since things had died down, she thought of calling the kids. She wouldn’t dream of it right now. A glance at her tableside clock told her it was barely six, and Michael would scream her deaf if she woke him up this early on a Sunday. Maybe later, after she’d gotten back to the hospital and slept a bit more. Had some more time to get her thoughts together.

She still had no idea what she was going to tell them about her battered face. It wasn’t exactly something she could explain away with a tired excuse of “I tripped and landed on my face”. Not even Amanda would buy that.

But really, why did she need an excuse?

She thought back to her conversation with Daisy the night before, the shame she’d felt at causing her daughter to worry for her, over something she’d been certain that she could handle.

She still didn’t want her children to have to worry for her. They didn’t need that kind of burden in their young lives. They needed to worry about school and friends and their hobbies, not if their mother was going to have an emotional breakdown or get into a fistfight with crazy cultists.

But, perhaps, she thought now, that worrying about someone you loved was inevitable. She’d been doing it for almost twenty-four hours now - not just about her biological kids, but about Stan and Ford and Fiddleford. No matter how old they were, she didn’t think she’d ever stop seeing them as more children for her to look after. It was just her nature.

She didn’t want her children to worry about her, but she also didn’t want to lie to them. Her lies about being okay had done everyone more harm than good, even though they’d proven somewhat useful in the end. She still smirked a bit as she thought of Blind Ivan falling for her distressed mother act hook, line, and sinker.

But now she didn’t need to lie anymore. She didn’t need to keep her pain locked up so she didn’t make other people worry for her. She didn’t need to be concerned that everyone would look at her differently. Everyone that she respected and cared about already knew, and they still treated her the same as they always had.

And if Daisy, Scott, and Amanda could be okay after what had happened to them on that awful night almost two years ago, they could handle their mom explaining why she looked like she’s lost a fight with a two-by-four.

She closed the drawer on her nightstand and turned. Darryl was leaning against the doorjamb, turning over a dog tag in his hand. His face was unreadable.

“You okay?” she asked.

He looked up at her like he’d forgotten he was in her house, and quickly said, “Yeah, I’m alright. Just thinking.”

“What about?” She came over slowly, stopping a few feet from him.

“‘Bout what you said to Matthews,” he replied, looking back down at the dog tag. “‘Bout getting help.”

“Yeah?”

“Listening to him, talking about Andrea, not being able to sleep...not being able to do anything…” He gulped heavily. “I don’t want that to be me one day, Doc.”

“It won’t be. Not after all you’ve done. You fought it when no one else would.”

“Well, I wanna make sure. And I’m gonna start by delivering this to Hank’s little brother, first thing tomorrow.” He held the dog tag out to her.

She took it, and read the words punched into the metal.

BLUBS HENRY J. A POS 91-470-441 LUTHERAN

“You might have met Little Daryl,” he said. “He works over at the Dusk 2 Dawn right now, but he’s training for the police academy.”

“His name is Daryl too?”

He gave her a wistful smile and nodded. “Hank always thought it was a riot that his best friend and his baby brother had the same name. So he called us Darryl Little and Little Daryl.” For a moment, he focused on the dog tag, and seemed to be a million miles away from her. It only briefly reminded her of Ed, but she very quickly noted a key difference.

Darryl was still smiling.

When he came back to her, he added, “Hank’s family got the tag he wore around his neck. They let me keep the one from his boot. Been carrying it with me ever since I got home. Twelve years, I been carrying that thing around my neck like a weight. I thought it was good to have, to keep him close.” Darryl paused for a moment, taking in a deep breath, then releasing it slowly. “But maybe it’s become more of a penance than a memorial.”

Helen didn’t reply. She simply handed the tag back to him.

He quickly tucked it away in his pocket. “Little Daryl will definitely get more comfort from it than I ever did,” he said.

“I think that’s a great idea,” Helen replied. “I can give you the names of a few good therapists when you’ve finished that. Especially since I’m looking up mine again come Tuesday.”

“I’d appreciate that.” He sighed heavily. “Stan was right. We are a bunch of sad idiots.”

“At least we know what we’re about.” Helen gave him a warm smile. “Now come on, I told Stan we’d swing by his house to take care of the dog, if that’s okay with you.”

“You had me at dog,” Darryl replied. He jammed his hands in his pockets and followed her down the hallway, to the front door, and out into the sunlight. ---

“So what are we gonna do with all that stuff under the history museum?” Stan asked before he tore off a hunk of sausage with his teeth. It wasn’t Greasy’s, but it would do. He’d never felt more ravenous in his life.

Fiddleford swallowed a mouthful of apple and replied, “I don’t rightly know. We definitely can’t just leave them there, but I don’t feel right watching any of them. Now that I know what the others were using them for, I’d feel...I dunno, like it was a violation of trust or something.”

“Honestly, after the hell they put up through, I think they all kind of deserve a violation of trust,” Stan replied with him mouth full.

“Well, I think I’ve had enough traumatic events to last a lifetime,” Ford said, setting his carton of orange juice back on his tray. “Maybe we could store them somewhere else. Somewhere more safe. The bunker might work, once it gets a bit warmer and all the snow melts.”

“Is the Shapeshifter still down there?” Fiddleford asked, narrowing his eyes in Ford’s direction.

“You remember the Shapeshifter?”

“You guys had a shapeshifter?” Stan said. Just when he thought these two nerds’ adventures couldn’t get any more bizarre.

“I asked you first, Ford,” Fiddleford said. He took another bit of his apple, almost menacingly.

Ford looked downright sheepish as he muttered, “Last I checked.”

“Then we’re not using the bunker, Fiddleford replied, his mouth still full.

“Fiiine,” Ford said dramatically, flopping back against his pillows, the smile was evident in his voice.

Fiddleford’s only reply was to stick his tongue out at him. Stan couldn’t help but chuckle. These two dopes were made for each other.

Then he had an idea. “What about the basement? There should be plenty of room down there once you guys get the portal squared away.”

Ford considered for a moment, and then said, “That sounds plausible.”

“It might not even take that many trips if we take multiple cars,” Fiddleford added.

“Sounds like we got ourselves a plan,” Stan said. He raised his paper cup of coffee to his lips, but at that moment, the swinging door in the hallway was flung open, and another draft barreled down the hall. It’d been happening all morning, a savage draft from the rain-chilled morning practically lowering the temperature of the entire wing. Stan set his breakfast tray off to the side, and reached for his jacket, slung over the back of his chair. “As if this hospital wasn’t cold enough,” he grumbled. “What, do they turn off the heat to make people leave faster?”

He heard the tube hit the linoleum before he ever saw it.

He’d actually forgotten the thing was in his pocket until now, as it rolled across the floor and into his foot.

“What’s that?” Ford asked, attempting to lean forward in his bed for a better look, but grimacing when he put pressure on some broken thing inside him.

“That’s a memory tube,” Fiddleford replied, straightening up in his chair. “They’re what the memories the gun erased are recorded on. Where did you get that, Stan?”

“Ivan dropped it, out at the cliffs,” he replied. “I only noticed it after he went over. Must have had it in his sleeves or something.”

“Who’s it for?”

“Some guy named Preston Northwest.”

“Wait,” Ford said. “The Preston Northwest?”

“I don’t even know how to respond to that,” Stan replied.

“The Northwest family founded Gravity Falls,” Ford said. “They’re the richest family in town, possibly in the state of Oregon. There’s hardly a thing here that they don’t have their hands in.”

“So, what, you think this Preston guy is a member of the Society that we just didn’t catch?”

“I mean, I doubt it, since he’s only about fifteen years old.”

“Why would Ivan want the memories of a teenage boy with him while he escaped?” Fiddleford pondered aloud.

Stan studied the tube a bit more, as it caught the light of the morning beaming through the windows. Despite that, it felt cold in his hand. That familiar, primal repulsion was back. He wanted to throw it out the window, let it smash against the pavement in the parking lot below.

Instead, he held the tube out to Fiddleford and said, “I guess it doesn’t matter. The only person that memory is really gonna be of any used to is currently having his body dredged out of the lake.”

“I suppose,” Fiddleford said as he took the tube. “It’s just strange.”

“Well, we’ll have plenty of time to find out later,” Ford said. “I don’t know about the two of you, but I’m pretty adventured out for a while.”

“That is an amazing point,” Stan said. “It’s been a rough night. I vote this is one mystery that can wait its turn. Whatdya say, Fidds?”

Stan saw the uncertainty pass over Fiddleford’s face as he studied the tube in his hands. A familiar look of concentration was there, signifying that he was trying hard to conjure forth any member associated with the tube, try to unlock whatever it may be hiding from him.

But it was gone in moments as Fiddleford let out a mighty yawn.

“I reckon you’re right,” he said. His eyes reminded Stan of a tired puppy, fighting sleep every moment it could. “These memories aren’t going anywhere for the time being. We can get to the bottom of them another time.”

“That’s the spirit,” Stan said. “Right now, the only thing I wanna get to the bottom of this cup of coffee, and then nap for about six months.”

“Coffee is supposed to do the opposite of making you want to nap, Stan,” Ford chuckled.

“I watched a man jump to his death, Ford. Don’t underestimate my desire to nap right now.”

Ford chewed his lip for a moment, as if he were giving the matter serious thought. “Alright,” he said. “Fair enough.”

---

In the depths of the forest, there was a river. The river fed usually fed directly in the falls, but a small tributary had branched off it over the centuries, and it gathered in a small lake. When it was first formed, it was mostly used by animals as a watering hole. But that was before the town, before people, before time had shrunk it to nearly nothing. Now, it was too shallow for anything, even for winter’s bitterness to freeze it over. It stood stagnant and brown and cold, and not even the most desperate beast touched it.

So there was nothing around for miles when Ivan finally broke the surface with a loud, gulping gasp.

He dragged himself to the bank, ignoring the burning in his arms and legs, from weary muscles that had spent an hour keeping his head above the water before giving out completely. Fortunately for him, he’d lost his strength at the mouth of this lake. He’d simply gone limp and let its current carry him here.

As soon as he felt the dry, frozen earth under his hands, he collapsed, face down in the dirt. He didn’t care that he looked horrendously undignified. There was no one around to see him, and besides, he’d earned a moment of exhausted self-pity. His plans - the Society, the gun, his army - all lay in ruination at his feet. Four months of tireless work and it’d all be destroyed by a gaggle of prying, headstrong fools.

He let an angry fire blaze through him for a minute. It gave him something to focus on that wasn’t his aching face, where he’d been headbutted and punched. Something that wasn’t his wet robe, making his internal temperature drop even faster than if he’d been wearing nothing at all. The rage that boiling in his blood made him forget all that for just a moment.

But it couldn’t last forever. He couldn’t stay out here in these wet clothes and find somewhere out of the cold, or he’d freeze.

This was, after all, only a momentary setback. He wouldn’t be thwarted. Not until he finished what he needed to do.

He rallied all the strength he had left in his body, and pushed himself onto his hands and knees. A powerful shiver nearly knocked him back down, but he ignored it. He wouldn’t be out here for a much longer. From watching McGucket’s memories, he knew that, not far from here, was a system of caves, all connected under the waterfall near Gravity Falls Lake. Inside were tiny little creatures that could make fire if they were struck together. That would suit Ivan’s needs just fine, for the time being.

With a grunt of effort, he pushed himself up farther, going slowly, until he’d gotten back to his feet. He stumbled a bit, his limbs still heavy from the time he’d spent underwater, but he caught himself before he fell. Then he pulled his heavy, wet robe over his head and shucked it off. He tossed it to the ground. Wearing it while it was soaking wet like that would only put him at greater risk for hypothermia. It wasn’t as though he needed it anymore anyway.

As he turned, he saw, over the treeline, a great manor, looming over him, perched high on the hills. It seemed to be looking down upon the humble town beneath it, proud and arrogant and fully prepared to rub the townfolks’ collective noses in its decadence. It made Ivan sick to look at, but he also knew that, with any luck, it wouldn’t be there for much longer.

He began walking into the forest, making sure the manor never left his sight. It was his beacon as he sought his shelter.

The Northwest family had so much to answer for. Not just the ones currently living, but the generations that had come before them. One-hundred and forty years of Northwest blood, building their legacy on lies and deceit and fear, reaping the benefits of their treachery and leaving the weak to wallow in whatever meager fate the accursed family had left them to.

He was going to burn it all to the ground.

---

Yl clckw uylbcpq gl rfc lgefr Ugrj Lmprfucqr Kylmp gl fgq qgefr Msp fcpmcq’ rpmzjcq ypc lmr wcr bmlc Dmp Gtyl’q qafckgle fyq hsqr zcesl

#gravity falls #mystery nerds au #seared with scars #fanfic #stanley pines #stan pines #stanford pines #ford pines #fiddleford mcgucket #helen bergstrum #blind ivan #the society of the blind eye #tw ptsd

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dubsdeedubs · 5 years

Text

An Outreached Hand [7/?]

Summary: On a cold winter’s day in 1982, Stan Pines shows up at his brother’s door with two cats tucked in his jacket and no heartbeat in his chest.

[AO3]

Notes: I actually posted this like two days ago but didn’t make the Tumblr post for it till now. Probably says a whole lot about how distanced I’ve been asojioda

There's someone staring at him from across the diner. A waitress, to be more precise, squinting at him suspiciously under heavy purple eyeshadow, a sharp twist to her expression that even his tired mind can read immediately as 'trouble.'

Ford's fairly certain that he has never met her in his life. But then again, his life hasn't been entirely his for several months now.

Lady over there's giving ya a real stinker of a look.

He can't help but start at the echo of Stan's voice in his head. It's... not something he's used to, hearing his brother in what used to be the domain of someone - something entirely different.

He thinks maybe it's something he will ever get used to.

You stiffed her on tips before or what?

Now that Ford thinks about it... no, yes, he had made a visit to this establishment once before. He's sure of it. It had been shortly after Fiddleford had left him, and around when Bill had decided to up the ante where psychological torment was involved. The memory of being surrounded by a dozen pairs of yellow-slitted eyes flashes before his mind's eye, and he grimaces despite himself.

Had this woman been there for that disaster of an attempted breakfast? Did she remember him from his frantic escape?

Not for the first time, he's thankful that for all of his brother's abilities, he either could not - or did not at all want to - read Ford's thoughts.

His left hand lifts itself up and flicks his nose, hard.

Ford flinches, more out of surprise and confusion than any real pain. It takes him a moment to make sense of what had just happened.

"Stanley -"

'Stanley' yourself, his brother says flatly, entirely unamused. You've been sitting for a full ten minutes in this place without moving a muscle. Have ya ever heard of ordering food when you're in a restaurant? Or is that something hermit scientists don't do?

Ford bristles. "I know perfectly well how to order food, I just haven't done it yet because the waitress has been staring at me for the past -"

He blinks, looks again.

In the span of this extremely distracting exchange, said waitress had disappeared entirely from his view.

Ford's mental alarm bells go off almost immediately.

He had long held suspicions about the local townspeople, which were only exacerbated by the recent appearance of mysterious hooded figures around town. And, considering that Bill was perfectly able and entirely willing to manipulate other people to get to him, being around anyone at all was a security breach of the highest magnitude..

The waitress had seen and recognized him. She must have noted that he was here, vulnerable and out in the open without any of the defensive measures he had set up around his home.

There is just one reason he can think of for her disappearing so immediately, and that was to share that information with others.

He knew this was a terrible idea, Ford thinks, heart racing.

He knew, but his brother just wouldn't listen to logic and sense (but why would he, when for all Stanley must have thought, Ford was just being paranoid? Because he couldn't know, not about the extent of Bill's powers, not about what had happened to Fiddleford, not about everything that Ford had been manipulated into being a part of -)

Ford needed to leave, the sooner the better. There was no telling how much time he had left before they - whoever they was, whether the hooded figures or a pawn of Bill or something he had not even anticipated - used his vulnerability to their advantage. He had to -

"Are those wild animals in your coat, mister?" Says a voice right behind him, far too close for comfort.

Ford jolts forward with a sharp noise of surprise that he refuses to call a squeak.

When he twists his head back, eyes wide, the waitress is staring back with a scrunched Look of deep disapproval. He thinks somewhat stupidly that the heavy magenta eyeshadow added magnitudes more to its power.

For a moment, his brain just doesn't process the words.

"Wild - wild animals?" He repeats.

She points down at the two furry heads poking out from the neck of his old trenchcoat.

Mabel - he thinks, it's not nearly as easy to tell the two apart as cats than as children - offers a single cheerful meow.

Ford stares down at them, speechless. He... had entirely forgotten they were there. How had he forgotten about two live animals tucked inches away from his own body?

"We don't allow animals in here," the waitress says with a frown. "Got a sign on the door and everything."

She points at it for emphasis. He stares after her finger for a moment too long, expression slack.

The waitress squints at him. "You alright there, mister?"

Ford, Stanley says flatly, you're useless.

Just like that, his mouth stretches into an entirely unfamiliar kind of grin, slow and flirtatious, the kind of expression Ford doesn't think he has ever made in his life.

"Sure I am, sugar," Stan says smoothly. There's an easy confidence to his words that's enough to make Ford feel just a twinge of envy. "I would ask ya the same thing, uh -" He squints at the messy scrawl on the woman's name tag. "- Susan. But I gotta say, it looks to me like you're doing just fine."

He winks. Ford cringes.

The waitress - Susan, he reminds himself - stares at them for a long moment, looking very flustered. Understandably, Ford thinks to himself, considering that from all appearances, he had switched gears from 'confused' to 'Casanova' at the drop of a hat.

"See, I think there's a little bit of a misunderstandin' here."

"How so, mister?"

"This is a family diner, yeah?" Stanley says. He gestures at the door. "Says it right there. 'Greasy's, for the whole family.' Right above that sign about wild animals."

He squints. "Why - why do you have that sign about wild animals anyways?"

Susan blinks. "Well," she says after a moment, "whaddaya know, it sure does!"

"So thing is. These two here, they ain't 'wild animals.'" His brother pauses, for what Ford highly suspects is just for dramatic emphasis. "They're family."

Her eyes widen. Her jaw drops.

Stan leans in closer slyly, going for the kill. "And this can't be a family diner if the whole family can't eat, right?"

In the privacy of his own mind, Ford lets out a deep sigh. This... was entirely ridiculous. It spoke magnitudes about Stanley that he had thought it would actually work. Everything else aside, they had snuck two full-grown cats into a dining establishment in their coat. There were - there were rules against these things, he was sure, rules that he doubted a waitress would -

"Oh hon," Susan chirps, and slaps them on the back hard enough that they choke on their own spit. "Ya should have said somethin' earlier!"

In the span of what feels like a second, the woman's demeanor had transformed entirely. Easy understanding had replaced suspicion on her broad face, and there was a new friendliness to the way she held herself.

"For a moment there, I figured you were one of those characters that come in marrying woodpeckers and kissing raccoons -"

"One of those -" Ford chokes. "Marrying what?"

"- but I can tell now, you're nothin' like 'em. Heck, I can already tell what you are!"

A chill goes down their back, and he doesn't know if it's from him or Stan. Maybe it doesn't matter.

"And," Ford says slowly, with a tone of vague concern, "what is - that?"

"A kindred spirit, handsome!" Susan winks like she doesn't know how to.

"...Oh."

Aaaaaalright, Stan announces, I did the heavy lifting. You're on your own now, Sixer.

Wait -

Somehow, he can tell that his brother is studiously ignoring him. Ford sighs.

"Family! What a perfect way of puttin' it!" Susan gushes. "You're right, why keep 'em cooped up in there? Let your kitties stretch their legs!"

"Are - are you sure that's alright?" He starts to ask, an eyebrow raised. "The sign -"

"Oh hun, this is Gravity Falls," She scoffs. "Just about everyone around here has seen much, much worse in this diner, I bet ya."

That... did absolutely nothing to ease his worries. Ford nods dumbly, more than slightly alarmed by the casual revelation.

The cats stretch out on the diner table, low and lazy. Which... probably wasn't hygienic, but considering the stains and flecks of unknown substance already present when he had sat down, he supposed a few animal hairs wouldn't do much worse to the establishment's bacterial ecosystem.

Mabel, or at least he thinks it's her, looks between him and Susan. She gives him the feline version of a wink. Ford looks at her in horror.

"What are their names?" Susan asks, drawing close, a soft expression on her face. "Your sweet little fur babies."

"They're my niece and nephew, actually," he corrects quickly, edging away, and realizes too late how odd that statement came out without the benefit of context. "But, ah. Dipper and Mabel."

Susan doesn't seem to mind the slip-up, however. In fact, judging by the extra sparkle in her eyes, that only seemed to endear him to her even more.

"Well, my oldest is Mr. Snookums," she says conspiratorially. "He's getting up there in years, maybe just a year or two older than your kitties here. And then there's Mittens, except she's the kind of lady that likes ta put a twist on things, so lately she's been trying out something new. Look, I've got pictures!"

Ford blanches.

It's after noon when Ford peers through the window of the local grocery store with an air of dawning apprehension. No one inside but a lanky teenager with a stunningly large cranium, manning the cash register with an almost physical air of general rebelliousness.

Ford swallows. "Stanley, are you sure it's fine to, ah -"

Relax, poindexter, his brother groans. I take the kids everywhere I go, and I've never run into any trouble.

Very carefully, Ford wonders if that was less about the actual regulations in place and much, much more about nobody wanting to tell a certain casually terrifying individual that he needed to leave his pets outside.

Besides, bringing the cats worked out fine in the diner, right?

"That doesn't count," he retorts immediately. "That woman was - she was obsessed with cats, Stanley, I didn't even know half the things she was talking about., and we talked for two hours."

Hey, I'm not seeing how that's a bad thing.

"Two. Hours."

Hell, I didn't even know the 'not having a collarbone' thing. I mean, it's not like the kids would have known about that. Though, Stan says thoughtfully, that definitely explains some of the crazy places they've gotten into over the ears.

"If you enjoyed it so much," Ford snips, "perhaps you should have spoken to her instead."

Nah. By the looks of you, Sixer, you haven't talked to another human being for a loooong time. Better a nice lady with a whole lot to say about cats than, uh. Mr. Potato Head inside there.

"Stanley."

What? I call it when I see it. Guy's head is disproportional.

Ford lets out a long sigh, and carefully does not admit that his brother was right about Susan. The social interaction had been overwhelming and occasionally bewildering, but it had been - a comforting sort of normal, in a way that nothing in his world had been for a very long time now.

Just chatting with a waitress in a diner about the best way to brush a cat. Nothing like his angry confrontation with Fiddleford, or the conversations he had with Bill that just thinking about made him reel with self-disgust. Nothing like everything that had happened since his brother had shown up at his door, just yesterday.

He walks into the store with his back straight, carefully ignoring the furry ears rubbing against his chin.

Then just as Ford steps over the doorway, there's a loud welcome chime.

He flinches, and jerks back with so much force that he knocks over the store display right next to him.

The cardboard figure hits the ground with a too loud thwap. The teenaged cashier glances up at him, a strangely intense look in his eyes.

"Apologies," Ford says stiffly, and awkwardly moves to stand it back up.

What the hell was that?

"I didn't expect the sound," he admits reluctantly.

"Who are you talking to?" The teenager asks, an odd look on his face. His voice is an entirely unexpected baritone, one that fits his craggy face but is strange with his frame.

"No one," Ford says, a bit too quickly. "Just - ah, just wanted to hear the sound of my own voice -"

Ford, shut up and just keep walking.

He does clumsily, and almost trips over his own feet. The cashier's stare feels heavy on his back all the way.

So. Grocery shopping. You want some of uh. Eggs, or something? Cheese? People buy cheese, right?

"...Stanley?"

You're on your own for this, pal. Look, I'm dead. I haven't had to eat for a long, long time. Thank God, because from what I remember hunger was uh.

A long, telling pause.

Not fun at all.

Ford looks up, and then even further up at the cans and boxes that line the shelves and seem almost to reach up to the ceiling. There's oats, then organic oats, then something about added sugar or reduced sodium and -

"I'm a bit rusty with grocery shopping myself," he confesses.

What, Stan says skeptically, you would rather eat out, now that you've got a college degree and big science money?

"Stanley, I told you, that's not how research funding works. I can't just spend that money on anything I want - "

Ford cuts himself off before he can go on the whole rant. He has a sneaking suspicion that telling his undead brother about the intricacies of research grants and scientific stipends was pointless.

"No," he says instead, voice clipped. "I just didn't eat."

His brother goes quiet at that. ...Well, all I know how to buy is food for the kids, and as horrible as I'm guessing your eating habits are I doubt you wanna get cat food -

Ford coughs. "Yes, not cat food would be good."

...You want stuff that doesn't go bad quickly, right? Canned stuff would be good for that, you can probably figure out how to fry bacon or something for the extra protein. Hell, you know what, eggs aren't a bad idea. And maybe some uh, green stuff. Vegetables. Spinach, kale, whatever.

"Stanley -"

Eh, what do responsible adults eat? Hell if I know.

"Stanley, that's - a great deal of food," he says carefully.

That's the point, Sixer.

"The issue is, ah. I can't afford all of that."

There's a long silence.

You can't - afford all of that, Stan says blankly. Like, you don't got enough money for it?

"Y-Yes, that's usually what it means to not be able to afford something -"

But you have money, his brother argues uncomprehendingly. You went to college, didn't ya? Isn't that what going to college is for?

Ford blinks, entirely thrown off-guard. "No, that's -" He starts off weakly, and then goes quiet with sudden realization.

He had been away from his family for years now, keeping the bare minimum of contact. So it had been easy to forget, surrounded by other college students and even more educated professors, that his household had always held a very fundamental misunderstanding of what higher education entailed.

Filbrick Pines had lived his entire life working for a living, and the idea of putting effort into studying something with no direct financial reward was entirely disjointed from his reality. Ford had smiled (grimaced, if he had to be entirely truthful) along with his father's loud boasts about how his boy was going to make the whole family rich, that his college admission meant they were all set for life.

It had been easier then to just stay quiet. Though, of course, that just meant the inevitable fallout was just that much more explosive.

But Stanley hadn't been there. He had left home long before Filbrick realized that Ford's research grants weren't free money, before the big argument that had ended with Ford admitting that no, his studies weren't going to make them rich, not any time soon, and no, that was never what college was for. Not for him, and he had gotten his degree for himself, not anyone else.

Which meant, this whole time, his brother had thought -

"Going to college didn't make me rich," Ford says at last. "It was... almost the opposite, really. Backupsmore gave me a full scholarship, but I had to take out loans and work on the side to eat and pay for textbooks. I got money to come out here for my research, and I suppose it's a large enough amount as a lump sum. But I need to justify all of my expenditures to the committee that approved me, and..."

He smiles wryly. "As it turns out, research scientists don't prioritize 'quality of life' too highly."

...Huh.

The words had come out almost terrifyingly easy, and it hits Ford suddenly that it's the most he's told his brother about his life in their years apart in... well. Very possibly ever. It's an odd feeling, one that comes with something like regret and slightly more like panic.

But mostly like relief.

Geez, Stan says suddenly, you could've just said so earlier. And here I thought you were stuck on an actual problem.

"An actual problem," Ford repeats blankly. "So you're saying this isn't an actual problem."

Sure. We can just steal.

A beat.

"You," Ford says, horrified, "want to do what?"

His voice cuts off suddenly, entirely out of his control.

You wanna say that any louder? Stan groans. Trust me, Mr. Potato Head doesn't want to care, but keep shouting about robbing this place and he's gonna have to.

"Don't call him tha - Stanley, I refuse to steal," Ford hisses under his breath, entirely scandalized.

Eh, suit yourself, his brother mutters casually, too casually. There's a loaf of bread down your shirt, by the way. And half a dozen oranges up your sleeve.

He freezes. "How did you - when did you -"

Don't ask questions you don't want answers to, pal.

"Stanley."

Stan hesitates, then sighs.

Look, I didn't have to eat, but I had to feed the kids somehow. And it wasn't like I was getting any kind of real job, with how I look. You figured out a way to make the system work for you, and guess what? So did I. Maybe it isn't as pretty. Or as legal.

He's quiet, for a moment.

...But it works. So shut it, alright?

Hearing that makes Ford's mouth goes dry. For the second that day, it hits him just how thankful he is that Stan can't hear his thoughts.

"Alright," he says hoarsely. "Do what you have to do."

"There's something wrong," Ford says quietly, about thirty minutes after they leave the store with something like a week's groceries stuffed in various pockets and folds.

Not about the stealing. The cashier - 'Ivan', as his name-tag introduced him as with an unfitting cheerfulness - hadn't looked twice at him when he paid for a single carton of eggs to keep up appearances. He hadn't seemed at all thrown off by his meager purchase, or even the two cats peeking out from the neck of his coat.

But there was a strange intensity in the way he had stared after him as he left, It reminded him of the looks the townspeople had given him on the streets that morning, how some of the other diner customers had turned to glance at his table as he talked to Susan and ate an uncomfortably filling breakfast.

"I'm being watched."

What, like right now? Stan says skeptically.

"No, this - this whole day. People have been staring at me. Following my movements."

Ford, you haven't showered in a week, you've got two full-grown cats hitching a ride in your coat, and as far as everyone's concerned you've been talkin' to yourself this whole time, Stan says flatly, sounding distinctly unimpressed.

"Still -"

Honestly, Sixer, I would be shocked if people weren't staring at you.

That... was true.

But...

For just a moment, Ford hesitates, ready to argue -

- and doesn't.

He lets out a sigh. He's tired, the bone-deep exhaustion and general stress of the past several months hitting him all at once.

Ford... doesn't want to think, can't think. Not right now.

"You're right," he says at last. "Let's go home."

They do, but it's Stan who pilots their body for most of it.

He's the one who gets the groceries put away and cooks an omelette that turns into scrambled eggs somewhere along the way, on a range that sputters and dies before the liquid gets all the way solid (Ford scarfs it down anyways - he's facing a host of much more immediate dangers than salmonella.) He piles firewood that Ford had completely forgot he still had into the fireplace, and struggles to light the flames with a box of soggy, year-old matches.

It ends with him curled up on the least destroyed armchair he has, moth-bitten blanket clumsily draped over himself, two warm bodies snuggled in and purring on his lap.

Somewhere distantly, he wonders if, just maybe, he had forgotten something.

With the fireplace roaring just a few feet away and the feeling of soft fur under his hands, Ford doesn't even notice when he falls asleep.

#gf #gravity falls #gravity falls fic #stanley pines #stanford pines #an outreached hand #next time on super miscommunication bros: ultimate #mindscape shenanigans!!#and the long-awaited return of bill #(but which one?)#my fics

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