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feferipeixes · 3 years

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Still Alive

After Dipper learns that this whole "being a demon" thing means he's going to live forever, he and Mabel talk about the future, and what he's going to do when everyone he knows dies. It's not until much later that he starts to realize that they'll never truly die -- just like he'll never truly get sick of ice cream.

Thanks to @toothpastecanyon for beta reading!

(See the most updated version on AO3!)

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“If you could choose one project to do and be guaranteed that you’d finish it eventually, no matter how long it took, what would you do?”

“Hmm....” Mabel replied, itching her scalp with a plastic hand clapping toy. “Oh! I’d get my hands on the Ultimate Magical Shimmering Rainbow-splosion Fluffykins doll! There’s only five hundred in existence -- they’re super duper rare!”

“No no no,” Dipper countered. “That’s too easy, and too short. All you’d need to do is set up some eBay alerts, bribe a few people, maybe sneak into the FluffCorp factory building. Not even -- you could just snap your fingers -” (he snapped his fingers for effect, causing a puff of blue flame to momentarily appear) “and conjure it.”

“I can’t -” Mabel started, but Dipper kept talking over her.

“I’m talking about something really unprecedented. Something that would take a long time, something you wouldn’t ordinarily be able to do. Something that would change the world.”

“Oh, I get it now!” Mabel tossed the toy aside and flipped over, letting her head dangle off the end of her bed. “I’d call you a dork a million times.”

Her brother scowled at her and jumped out of his chair and into the air. “Hey!” he yelped over Mabel’s laughter. “I'̼͚̻͓͎̲m̡̖̰̘̣͎ ̖͇̕n̛̻ơ̰t̷̟͇̱ ̝̺̻a̳̦ ̪̟̮͖ḑor̞͓̭k̟̤̖!̛͍ And even if I was, that wouldn’t take you very long! At, uh, a rate of, let’s see, you could probably say ‘you’re a dork’ at least 30 times per minute, and if you didn’t ever sleep…”

Mabel watched the red tinge fade away from his features as he paced around in mid air, doing math in his head. “Yeah. You’re totally not a dork, Sir Maths-a-lot. You sure showed me.”

“- It wouldn’t even take you a month,” Dipper finished. “Besides, how would that change the world?”

“Hmm, well if I call you a dork enough times,” Mabel answered, “maybe my big scary demon brother would decide he doesn’t want to be a dork and instead he’d do something with his cool magic powers that ends up making the world a better place!”

“Mabel?”

“Yeah bro-bro?”

Dipper frowned at her. “Your face is turning purple.”

“Touche,” she replied, rubbing her chin very seriously. She slid the rest of the way off the bed and clutched her throbbing head. “Owww…”

“That's what you get for giving me dumb answers,” Dipper quipped, arms crossed.

“You mean for giving you fun answers,” Mabel corrected, and then winced at another sting of pain. “Why are you asking me these weird questions anyway?”

A panicked look flickered across Dipper's face, and his feet touched the ground. “I don't know what you're talking about.”

Mabel, still massaging her temples, pushed herself semi-upright to give her brother a look. “Come on. ‘What would you do if you had all the time in the world?’ ’What movie could you watch a million times and never get sick of it?’ ’Do you think Stancakes have a shelf life longer than 100 years?’ Something is clearly up.”

Dipper giggled awkwardly (was there any other way he could giggle?) and stared at the ceiling. “Nothing. It's nothing!”

“What, are you really not gonna tell me?” Mabel pushed. ”What if I tickle you?”

Her brother recoiled in horror. “You wouldn't.”

There was a tense silence as the two twins considered whose was the stronger will: the expert fighter with a plethora of torture tactics at hand, or the demon. Mabel narrowed her eyes. Dipper sharpened his claws. No words were exchanged. The room was perfectly still.

Mabel jolted forward half a foot and Dipper shrieked.

“Okay, you win, just don't tickle me!” he begged, throwing his hands up. “I'll tell you!”

“Good,” Mabel replied. “Things were about to get ugly. Spill it, bro-bro.”

Dipper sighed. He dusted himself off -- a habit he'd gotten into lately even though he was pretty sure nothing he could do would make his orange shirt and vest look any less weird with his new body.

“Remember… Remember the thing I told you the other day, when I had that infodump and learned more about my powers?”

“Oh yeah,” she said. “You found out that your omniscience tells you whenever anyone farts.”

“No!” he squeaked. “Although, you are right, it does do that and it's annoying, especially because now I can smell it from like a mile away.”

He wrinkled his nose, staring off into space for a minute before shaking his head. “But that's not what I mean. I'm talking about… how I'm never going to die.”

It had been about a week since Mabel had walked into the living room to find Dipper writhing and sobbing on the floor. She remembered the way he’d looked right through her, how he hadn’t seemed to even notice her presence when she sat him upright, how he kept muttering “still alive, still alive” over and over again, and it hadn’t made any sense to her then, but when he finally snapped out of it and was able to vocalize what he’d seen…

She shuddered at the memory of it.

“Since then,” Dipper continued, “I’ve been thinking about how I’m going to deal with it. And I had this idea that I could come up with things to do to fill the time.”

“What, so you’re going to plan out your whole life?” Mabel asked, incredulous. “Let me guess -- you’re making a checklist? Hah! Can you imagine?”

She giggled, and then he reached into his vest and pulled out oh sweet Moses.

“I’ve already got some good stuff on here,” Dipper said, ignoring or not noticing his sister’s flabbergasted expression. “I’m gonna learn how to make a sword by hand. I’m gonna watch all of Tiger Fist backwards to see if there are any hidden messages. And there’s this spa getaway weekend that the Multibear invited me on -- shoot, wait, he’s gonna be dead by then, umm…”

Mabel raised an eyebrow as her brother started scribbling on the checklist. “Dipper. This is obsessive even for you.”

“What would you know?” he shot back. “You’re not the one who’s immortal.”

“I know how to have this thing called ‘fun’,” she replied. “Maybe you’ve heard of it?”

He grumbled at her, eyes locked on his checklist. He couldn’t believe he forgot that the Multibear spa trip thing was a limited time offer. That kind of stuff was slipping his mind more and more these days, like the time Mabel asked him to play cards with her and he was so busy alphabetizing his Sibling Brothers books that he neglected to respond to her for three days.

Although, now that he thought about it, that might’ve been before he became a demon.

Something damp and cold hit Dipper in the face, and he spluttered in surprise. “What was that?” he shouted. One of his flailing hands happened to close on the object as it fell, and he held it up to the light.

“It’s a popsicle, doofus!” Mabel said. She’d fetched two from the minifridge in their room while he was distracted, and was busy licking away at her own, which was chocolate. “Remember those?”

He wrinkled his nose. “I don’t have ti-”

“I’ll throw another one at you,” Mabel interrupted.

“- I guess I could have some ice cream,” Dipper finished.

He floated over and sat on the floor next to his sister. He removed the paper from the popsicle and gave the object a sniff. The aroma of orange and vanilla caressed his sensitive nose, and he realized how long it’d been since he had any sugar. Without a second moment’s thought, he threw his head back, stretching both his neck and jaw further than they were supposed to go, and placed the entire popsicle -- stick and all -- into his gaping maw.

“See, what’d I tell you?” Mabel said, smirking at the satisfaction on her brother’s face. She reached up with her popsicle to scratch an itch on her nose, and then went right back to eating it. “I always know what to do with my time. I wonder what it’d be like if I lived forever…”

Dipper eyed the glob of chocolate ice cream on the bridge of her nose. “The world would probably be a much more chaotic place.”

“You mean a much BETTER place!” she declared. “Everyone would have fun and ice cream all the time!”

He grinned. “You’re right. It would be a much better place. Because my best friend would be there.” Mabel looked at him, a twinkle in her eye and ice cream all over her face, and his grin fell away. “I guess this is what you felt like when I said I was going to be Grunkle Ford’s apprentice, huh. I’m such a shitty bro-”

Mabel at once had her hands on his face, squishing his cheeks together so he’d stop talking. “Nuh-uh. Bro-bro you’re gonna stop hating on yourself Right. Now.” She was still smiling, but her tone had twisted into something harsh. “Okay, sure, I’m gonna die someday and then you’re gonna have to figure out what to do on your own. But I’m not ready to think about that and neither are you! We’re hecking 13 years old! We should act like it, while we’ve still got the chance. Please don’t make me think about dying yet.”

Dipper winced, and she let go of him. “I’m sorry,” he murmured.

“S’okay.” She patted him on the back, harder than he’d been expecting, and he was so surprised that he coughed up the popsicle stick he’d eaten earlier.

For a minute, neither of them said a word. Dipper lifted a hand to his face, where he felt something sticky.

“You got chocolate on my face.”

“Yeah. On your vest, too.” She stuck her tongue out at him. “What are you going to do about it?”

He looked at his hands, still small and smooth like a child. With a thought, he bathed both hands in a blue flame, searing away the chocolate and leaving them clean, just the way he liked them. Then he cleared his throat.

“I’m gonna chase you around the house,” he stated matter-of-factly.

Smiling ear-to-ear, Mabel jumped up and ran to the wall. “You’re nuts if you think you can catch me, even with demon powers!” Cackling, she threw the door open, which bathed her in a blinding white light.

Dipper thought about his infodump from the other day, thought about the part he hadn’t told Mabel, the tiny glimpse he’d gotten of his sister when she’d been old, pale, and still -- too horribly, horribly still. It was just a glimpse, but it haunted him -- the thought that one day there wouldn’t be a single trace left of Mabel Pines anywhere in the world. She was right -- as always -- that he was obsessing, that he was letting a thought hurt him when it didn’t have to.

He wasn’t ready to think about growing up yet, either. No matter how strong the pull to obsess was, he had to find a way to fight it.

“You can’t get away from me!” Dipper roared, and flew after his sister into the future.

---

"Wahoo! That was a great idea -- getting ice cream -- Dipper! I feel so much better! You always know how to cheer me up."

Dipper, clad in his usual human disguise, collapsed onto the bench with a grunt. "I dunno, this stuff tastes off. You’d think with all the technological advancements since the Transcendence that they’d have found a way to perfect ice cream."

His friend Arin, who was somehow managing to carry five popsicles in two hands, nodded with a serious look on her face. "Yeah. Oh sure a lot of old timey diseases were eradicated and we've got flying cars and stuff. But not one of these ice pops actually tastes like orange!"

She stared at him for a beat longer, then finally broke into snickers. One of the popsicles fell out of her hand, and a stubby arm immediately shot out from under the bench to catch it.

His face twisting in confusion, Dipper bent over to look under the bench. There were two gnomes right beneath him -- one of them hissed when they saw him, making him jump and making Arin laugh even harder.

"Ha-ha, okay," Dipper said, hand on his chest like his heart was racing. Despite this, he couldn't keep a small smile from creeping onto his face.

So much had changed in the last five hundred years, and yet so much else had stayed the same. Wars were fought, societies had formed and collapsed, but people were still people, and Dipper was still Dipper. Even though he’d had more than a few incidents where his demonic nature overcame his humanity, he always seemed to land back on his feet again eventually. Sometimes all it took was a friend.

Right now, his friend was a girl named Arin who he’d saved when someone else had tried to sacrifice her to him. He remembered how grateful she’d been, how she gave him a hug despite him being a void black monster splattered with blood, and how she then spent 20 minutes chatting with him about dragons even though she’d just had a very traumatic experience. She seemed, in other words, cool. So he later presented himself to her as fellow undergraduate student Dipper, without revealing that it was him who’d saved her that night, and they’d been good friends ever since.

Arin sat next to him and started taking bites out of her ice pops. "Yknow, the Transcendence-era wasn't that great," she said, although with her mouth busy it sounded like she was drowning.

Dipper's brow creased. "What do you mean?"

She gulped down the hunk of ice in her mouth. "No offense -- I know you're totally obsessed with Transcendence history stuff -- but that was soooo long ago. There's no one left who was alive back then, except like vampires I guess. But vampires don't eat ice cream so it doesn't matter."

Dipper bit back the urge to say "I know a vampire who loves ice cream as long as there's blood in it". What came out instead was "So?"

"So!" Arin shoved an entire popsicle into her mouth, and then had to take a minute to cough up the stick. "S-so," she continued amid gasps, "no one knows for sure what ice cream tasted like in the year 2012. And that includes you, Mr. Argues-With-The-Teacher! For all we know, old timey ice cream tasted like sawdust!"

Dipper considered his chocolate popsicle, which he's barely looked at since the first taste. "I guess you're right." He gave it another wary lick.

It didn't taste like chocolate the way he remembered it, but it was close enough.

"Do you ever think," he asked, unable to meet his friend's eyes, "about all the stuff that used to exist but doesn't anymore? All the ideas and food and... people?"

Arin groaned. "Is that what this is about? My best friend of the past 2 years -- secretly one of those 'I was born in the wrong century' people?"

"No!" he shot back, before taking another lick of the popsicle. "I just think it's sad that stuff goes away and no one's there to remember it."

"Well, maybe no one remembers that stuff, but that doesn't mean it's forgotten."

Dipper looked up. "Huh?"

Arin scarfed down her remaining two popsicles, which had begun melting onto her hand. "People die and ideas change and the world moves on. It happens constantly! But those people influenced their friends and their family and their coworkers. Who in turn influenced other people. Those people might be dead, but they live forever in the words and actions of everyone who came after."

Dipper just stared at her, jaw dropped. "Where did that come from?" he managed to get out. "Five seconds ago you were gagging on frozen sugar! You're not allowed to be this insightful!"

"Sugar rushes always make me super thoughtful," Arin said, patting him on the back. "It's 'cause I'm a genius. I'm probably gonna crash hard later though. Also by the way your ice cream is totally melting."

"Ah, shoot." Dipper hurriedly tried to catch the melting ice cream with his tongue, and Arin giggled again.

"The point is," she said, "if you've always got your head stuck in a history textbook, you're gonna miss out on the present. If you're always thinking about the dead guy who invented ice cream, you won't be around to eat any with me."

"Yeah, I guess you're right," he said. He felt an itch on his nose, so he wiggled it. "Thanks, Arin. I feel better- why are you looking at me like that?"

Arin was indeed staring at him with a perplexed look on her face as if she was not the one who'd just swallowed a metric ton of ice cream. "Why do you do that?"

Dipper frowned. "Do what? AGH-"

He yelped as Arin whipped out her phone and snapped a photo of him, blinding him with the flash even though it was a bright, sunny day out. "What was that for?"

She didn't say anything, simply handed him her phone. It certainly was not the best photo ever taken of him. It was blurry, his hair was a mess, and his mouth was contorted in shock.

On the bridge of his nose was a dollop of chocolate ice cream.

"You do it every time we get ice cream," Arin said, taking her phone back. "I mean, you call me weird, but I'm not the one always itching my nose with an ice pop."

"Oh," Dipper said. He paused and looked at his fingers, which were all chocolate-y too now. "I didn't even notice I was doing it."

"Suuure, weirdo," Arin chuckled. She stood up, wobbling a bit as she did so, and steadied herself on the back of the bench. "Listen dude, this was fun but I think the sugar's starting to hit me. I'm gonna head back to the dorm before I collapse. Wanna hang out later?"

"Definitely!" Dipper replied. "You should get some rest! Try not to give psychological counseling to anyone on the way -- you're gonna burn out your brain!"

He waved at his friend as she staggered away, and watched her until she turned a corner around a building. Then he sighed, and wiped his nose with his finger.

"Hey Mabel," he whispered, looking at the chocolate he'd collected. "It’s me, Dipper.”

A passing jogger sent a pointed look at the young man who was talking to his finger, but Dipper ignored them.

“I seem to remember you saying something to me about living forever. You said that one day you’d be gone, and I’d have to find a way to carry on alone.” He thought about Arin’s words, and felt something swell in his chest. “But I guess you’re still alive after all.”

He sniffed, and looked up at the sun as it started to bathe the sky in the pinks and purples of evening. He saw people in flying cars, people rushing through pneumatic tubes, people high fiving on jetpack because it was a wonderful day to be out. And he thought about what Arin said; thought about all of the sicknesses he'd seen friends and family afflicted by that no one ever had to suffer from again. He thought about all the preters he saw walking freely and happily on the campus, without worrying that they'd be attacked.

"And you were right," he said. "The world is a better place."

Dipper licked the remaining chocolate off his fingers, and got up. As he headed back toward his dorm room, he wondered what other legacies his loved ones had left in him.

(AO3 link)

#gravity falls #transcendence au #dipper pines #alcor the dreambender #mabel pines #fic #my stuff #long post

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kindafooey · 5 years

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Blood Chains - Chapter 22

Prologue

Arc I: Chapter 1 // Chapter 2 // Chapter 3 // Chapter 4 //Chapter 5 // Chapter 6 // Chapter 7 // Chapter 8 // Chapter 9 // Chapter 10 // Chapter 11

Arc II: Chapter 12 // Chapter 13 // Chapter 14 // Chapter 15 // Chapter 16 // Chapter 17 // Chapter 18 // Chapter 19 // Chapter 20 // Chapter 21

Arc III: Chapter 22 // Chapter 23 // Chapter 24 // Chapter 25 // Chapter 26 // Chapter 27 // Chapter 28 // Chapter 29

Epilogue

Entry No. 23.

Who would've thought... that I was the one in need of liberation?

“…so in this particular instance, physical anomalies can manifest –“

“Wait. Did you hear that?”

At Dipper’s words, Ford raised his eyes from the research notes on the table and pricked his ears with a frown. He, too, could make out discordant voices from outside the house.

He huffed heavily through his nose. “This again?”

“Sounds like the usual”, Dipper confirmed and rose from his chair. “Well, time for another intervention.”

“I suppose there’s no other choice.”

The scene that awaited them as they rushed to the yard had indeed become slightly too commonplace in the past few weeks.

“Just what do you want from me?” Stan shouted at Bill, shielding Trevor with his body and forcing him to back away from the demon. “What do you want from this family?”

“Dunno what to tell you, pal! You’re asking the impossible questions here!”

“Gunkl Stan”, Trevor piped in, stomping his small foot to get the old man’s attention. “Bill fren.”

And just like in all the previous occasions, Stan couldn’t believe his ears. “Friend? No, kid, listen…” He knelt down and took a hold of Trevor’s tiny shoulder. “This guy?” he gestured at Bill. “Not a friend. Nuh-uh. He’s a big, dangerous schmuck is what he is! He’s floating garbage and not even a real person!”

And once again, Ford had heard enough. “Stanley, listen to yourself!” he exclaimed, quickly running out of patience despite knowing where Stan’s accusations were – or weren’t – coming from. “You cannot talk to Trevor like this! If he wants to play with Bill, you must let him and leave it at that. I assure you Bill has never done anything to harm the child in any way.”

Bill made a sound. “Well…”

“Ha, fat chance!” Stan barked over him. “Remember Shermie’s grandkids? Remember when we were all trapped and he was damn near about to –“

“Grunkle Stan”, Dipper interrupted, visibly alarmed by how unaware Stan appeared to be of his presence, “I’m right here, see? We’re fine.”

“Stanley, please, try to stay in the present”, Ford joined in rather more rigidly. “Explain yourself. What exactly did Bill do that made you suspect he might hurt Trevor?”

“I don’t know! I don’t know and I don’t like it!” Stan almost roared. “I have no idea what’s happening in this house, and I don’t like it one bit!”

“It’s okay, Grunkle Stan”, Dipper started in a conciliatory tone – but to his surprise, the rest of his words were drowned under Ford’s voice lashing out with a sudden fit of irritation.

“Then you simply need to accept it!” the man thundered back at his brother. “Just like you had to accept me upon my return! If Bill has no place in this family, does it mean you are questioning mine as well? Our bond cannot be severed, and you know that.”

“You know I don’t know what I know anymore!” Stan yelled.

“And yet”, said Ford, the volume of his voice rising to meet Stan’s, “last year, when we were in the hospital, you had the audacity to reject me and claim the exact opposite –“

“That’s enough!” Although not nearly powerful enough to drown his grunkles’ voices rumbling in the yard, Dipper’s shout did the job, making the two fall silent. He gestured Ford to join him to discuss a little distance from the others. The old researcher followed him, letting out a frustrated sigh as he turned away from his still grumbling brother.

“Great uncle Ford, have you considered the possibility that maybe you’re the one forgetting things?” Dipper asked rather sharply. It wasn’t the first time he’d vocally opposed his mentor – in fact, they’d gotten into quite a few verbal spars towards the end of the spring. This time, however, his tone of voice was nothing short of hostile, and it left Ford stupefied.

Then, defensive. “And what exactly am I forgetting, Dipper?” he asked, unable to keep anger from seeping into his voice.

“You know – the past?” Dipper spread his arms. “Blackmail, possession, manipulation, haunting, stalking, causing the apocalypse, an attempted child murder, and everything else that crazy triangle did?”

Ford frowned darkly. “How could I ever forget?” he said. “And how is any of that relevant to the situation at hand? Bill has changed… as have I, as well as you. All of us have changed.”

“No. We’ve grown”, Dipper retorted, “while Bill has just adapted. You know it’s all circumstantial at best, and it could be just pretense for all we know! Who’s to say he’s not going to go back to his old ways the moment we let our guard down? Grunkle Stan has a point. You’re – you’re losing your edge.”

Ford took a step back. “I’m losing my edge?” he repeated; that was the only comeback his disbelief allowed him. He’d always encouraged Dipper to practice critical thinking wherever he could, to openly express any concerns he might have and to point out any flaws and errors regardless of his opponent’s status, but this… He could’ve never prepared for himself to be so ruthlessly attacked.

Now even Dipper seemed to slowly realize what he’d said, and to whom. But he stood his ground. “Yeah”, he nodded sternly. “So maybe, uh… you should think about that for a while, okay? I mean… Yeah. You should think about it. Think, man!” He grimaced, evidently biting down an all but compulsive apology. “…Too much?”

But Ford was already walking away from him, heading inside the house with Bill in tow.

“Hey, I’m just saying – grudge loves company. If you need to let off some steam, I’m here to co-complain!”

Ford knew Bill was the last person he should open up to and expect to understand his struggle, but the storm gathering in his chest was tearing his moderation apart.

“Am I really that insignificant?” he eventually spat out. “Is my mere presence in this family the only worth I am allowed?”

Bill crossed his legs, looking intrigued. “Care to elaborate?”

Ford sat heavily down on his bed. “I always thought…” he started in a bitter spur. “I was always convinced that a family was a privilege beyond the reach of someone such as myself. After every mistake I made… It’s not that I’m ungrateful”, he then added hastily, talking mainly to himself. He knew the very concept of gratitude was something Bill would never concern himself with. “Not a day has passed since my return to this dimension when I haven’t found myself in awe of my luck to be a part of this family. And yet…”

He stared bleakly down, the muffled voices carrying from downstairs adding to his feeling of alienation. “Ever since your resurrection”, he muttered, aware of Bill’s gaze fixed on him, “I’ve felt my voice has gone unheard. Granted, most of the family has learned to live with my decision to bring you back, but it’s quite clear I never had any part in that process… Mabel made her peace with you on her own accord, and the Ramirez, well, they’re the Ramirez. But what of my brother and my young apprentice, whose trust I’ve fought the hardest to earn?”

“They’re the ones who made you bend over backwards for it”, Bill pointed out. “Sounds an awful lot like the good old game of chain-yanking and carrot-dangling, but hey, what do I know?”

The words stung; by now, Ford knew Bill’s sarcastic quips were never completely devoid of truth. Was trust ever anything but conditional, if not downright weaponized?

“Why is it”, he continued his bitter outburst, “that after all this time, your presence – our presence – remains a matter of dispute? Stanley has an illness that renders his judgment faulty at times, that much I understand. But the knowledge of his condition does little to the fact that I still must suffer his questioning almost every day.” Despite himself, he glanced at Bill in search of support. “Can I really be blamed for growing weary of it? It’s… unreasonable, isn’t it?”

“Mhm”, hummed Bill in an agreeing tone. “Knowledge meets reality. That’s a showdown fast to push you off the idealist high horse, amiright?”

“I fear the little progress he made during our first summer is long gone”, muttered Ford. “The way he is now, it’s like nothing has changed from the night he threatened to kick me out of the house. And Dipper? He has been there to witness your progress all along, all the way to your contribution in saving this realm from its annihilation.”

“You’re really twisting it there, Fordsy”, Bill put in a little irked, “but I get the gist. The kid’s got no excuse, unlike old Finger Guns and his shriveling brain.”

Ford shook his head in disappointment. “I have done everything in my power to make him understand my reasons, but now… I can no longer so much as be honest with him. I am not sure if he even wants my honesty at this point. And if that is the case… What will become of our scientific collaboration, let alone kinship?”

“Leeching?” Bill suggested. “Kid’s getting all that good brainy currency from you, and what do you get? Backtalk and suspicion. Ain’t much of a fair trade, I gotta say!”

Ford didn’t know why he’d asked the demon’s input in the first place. He tried to disregard his sneer. He really tried. “Stanley, he – he will forget me eventually. As for Dipper… He must come into his own one day. I cannot expect Mabel to always depend on me, either… And the Ramirez have their own lives to lead, with my presence as extended family being my only means of interaction.” He let out a sigh heavy with frustration. “In the end, I am nothing but a permanent guest in my own home. And at times like this, I cannot help but feel as though I’m overstaying my welcome.”

He turned to face Bill. “What exactly am I to this family?” he asked, knowing the absurdity of his question. He knew better than to expect sympathy or support from the demon, and yet…

Bill raised his hands slightly and danced them around, as if pulling something along with each of his fingers. His meaning didn’t miss Ford.

The man frowned. “Bill, please”, he swished him off and looked the other way; but he couldn’t deny that some of his irk wasn’t entirely out of disagreement.

Yes, he had made mistakes. Grave ones, with no hope of reversal… Irredeemable, perhaps. But did it mean those mistakes would define his worth for the rest of his life? Was he really expected to be content with what little forgiveness others could muster for him, and never strive for anything beyond acquiescence?

With a deep breath, he unclenched his fists and stared at the twelve fingers. In the past, his pride had been his downfall. Was he falling under the same delusions all over again? Or was his inner conflict just another one of Bill’s… no.

All he wanted was the common courtesy of respect, nothing more. And he deserved respect, just like anyone else.

He glanced at his companion.

Like anyone else.

He cleared his throat softly. “Bill, I don’t think I’ve ever…” He gulped. “…apologized to you.”

Bill turned to stare at him for half a second, then burst into loud laughter.

“Oh boy”, he cackled, “you just made a U-turn so steep it did a 360! Good going, Fordsy!”

“For the restraints our bond has forced upon you, that is”, Ford hurried to add as the demon’s laugh was starting to gain unhinged notes. “Not sincerely, at the very least. I… I admit I’ve always held a sense of selfish gratitude for the fact that we’re bound to each other. I still do. That being said, I truly think you deserve freedom, in… some certain way. However, I cannot grant it to you simply due to my own weakness… I still can’t seem to trust you to survive on your own, should you ever leave me. For that, I apologize. I am aware it –“

“– doesn’t mean jack or squat, right?” Bill took the lead in the middle of the man’s sentence, wiping off an imaginary tear of laughter. “Then what’s the point? Aside from letting yourself off the hook, of course!”

“Well… I suppose…” Ford felt like a fool. Bill was right as always, but for a rare chance, it gave the old researcher no epiphany. “Nothing. There’s no point.”

“There you go, finally starting to ditch the sad, passive, utilitarian excuse of a moral code! Look, if you’re really feeling the weight of your wrongdoings, just do yours truly and the Multiverse a favor and take status quo for a spin! You’ve got the know-how, all you need is to figure out the go-how! And good old Bill is here to help!”

Ford glanced at Bill. “Very well…” he started slowly. “If you have any suggestions, I’d be glad to hear them. With precaution, of course.”

Bill snorted. “Forget precaution, try hindsight instead!”

“What do you mean?”

“Easy – just rewind back to the latest catastrophic series of events brimming with the potential of change! I’m pretty sure some other Stanford Pines out there saw it best to throw away his guns instead of sticking to’em and go with the flow instead! Unimaginative and lazy, no question there, but sometimes you gotta sit back and let the show carry on!”

“Are you suggesting an alternative timeline where the superanomaly crisis was never stopped?” asked Ford with a frown.

“Gee, I dunno! Are you?”

“Well, now that you brought it up, I… cannot help but wonder…” He felt a small shudder at the mere thought of such a reality; but at the same time, he was oddly fascinated by it. Peace had been restored to Gravity Falls through an immense effort to fight back – but what if that effort had never been made?

Perhaps, they… could steal a glimpse of it. Technically speaking, there was nothing stopping Bill and himself from visiting an alternate timeline. Surely it was in no way comparable to the fatal expeditions of his crazed counterpart… right…?

He startled at the vivid memory of eyes identical to his, drained of all joy of living.

He shook his head, earning a displeased squint from Bill.

“Chickening out of that one, huh?”

“I’ll admit my morbid curiosity”, said Ford rather bleakly. “However, to the Stanford Pines of that dimension – assuming we somehow survived the apocalypse – it is a world where everything was lost. The thought of yet another encounter with my broken self is unbearable. I cannot risk it.”

“Whoa, what happened to the whole carpe diem mentality you swept your last bad egotrip under the rug with?” Bill provoked. “Did that persistent mantra of yours about being your own Stanford Pines run its course already? Did you just unlearn every lesson that whole Ford & Ford Show shoved down your throat and go back to hiding from that one time you looked bad in the mirror?”

“Gravity Falls is my home”, Ford retorted bluntly. “I do not wish to see its destruction under any circumstances.”

“So danger zone tourism is fine and dandy as long as your own nest doesn’t get dirty in the process? Sheesh.”

“What about you? Would it not affect you in the least to see this place in ruins?”

Bill laughed. “Maybe I’m insane, but even I’m not loony enough to grow an attachment to some stupid hillbillyville that’s effectively keeping me prisoner!”

“Are you sure?” asked Ford with a small smile.

Bill shrugged in a grand, melodramatic gesture. “Can’t be sure of anything these days, my friend! Certainty is for the all-knowing, and I’m no longer a member of that clique, thanks to you!”

Ford scratched his chin for a moment in deep thought. Suddenly, he stood up.

“There is something I must do”, he said. “It might take a while, so feel free to go to sleep ahead of me if I’m not back before bedtime.” He left without further notice, leaving Bill grumbling to himself about not needing the man’s permission to call it a day.

Bill wasn’t too happy when Ford woke him up in the small hours of the following night, either; but his disgruntled mood was gone in a blink as he recognized his companion’s heavy traveling gear and a smile beaming with childlike enthusiasm that made up for the lack of daylight.

“I know it is early”, said Ford with a grin, “but would you like to join me for a cup of tea?”

Bill was up in an instant. “A cup?” he repeated. “A cup won’t cut it, Fordsy! Where we’re going, we’ll be swimming in tea!”

“Just what we need”, Ford laughed. “What you said last night is true… I have neglected your wanderlust for too long, as well as my own. It is time I acknowledge that as one of my responsibilities, as vital as any other.”

Bill raised his brow. “Really? So you’re done babysitting the sapling and the old-timer?”

“They’ll do just fine without me for a day or two. I left them a note, so they should have nothing to worry about.”

“That’s the spirit! Now, enough with the schmesponsibilities – I say do it for the hell of it!”

“You are absolutely right”, the man nodded. “Are you ready?”

“I came into existence ready”, said Bill and held out his hand, which Ford took with a smile.

“Then, lead the way.”

“Truthfully, I thought you meant ‘swimming’ as a figure of speech. I wasn’t expecting something quite so literal.”

Bill gave him a rather peaceful look of sneer. “You think tea is just a beverage in the Tea Dimension? Think again! Down in this joint, everything is tea, and tea is everything! Even you’re part of the tea yourself!”

Ford opened his eyes slightly to study the tub resembling a large teacup he was bathing in – though he couldn’t exactly call it bathing, as the substance the cup was filled with only somewhat resembled liquid and didn’t possess the quality of wetness.

“You make it sound as though I’m a mere ingredient in this infusion”, he thought out loud. “As if some of my essence is being diluted into the tea.” If he wasn’t so perfectly relaxed, he would’ve found the idea rather unsettling.

“Talk of someone who’s got no skin in the game!”

“Well… Granted, I have always been more of a coffee drinker.”

Bill sat back in his separate, smaller tub floating next to Ford’s. “Look, smart guy, if you’d spent a tiny fraction of the time you’ve put into guesstimating the unknown into the social funk and high arts of your species, you’d know better than to think tea is just freshly squeezed leaf juice – in fact, it’s more like a soup! A small universe in a cup, if I may be so bold! Just because you’re in it doesn’t mean your essence is being bled right outta your own egoistic little self, and you’re not more special than any other measly speck that adds its own flavor into the mix anyhow!”

“True, but you wouldn’t have alphabet soup without the alphabets”, Ford pointed out humorously.

“That’s where we slip from matters into semantic matters, Fordsy!” said Bill. “I’d also like to mention the link between mortality and egomania, but that’s a whole ‘nother storm in a whole ‘nother teacup! Pun intended, in case that wasn’t clear!”

“How fascinating.” For a moment, Ford got distracted from their conversation in favor of studying the mystifying space around them. Everything was in bafflingly large scale, and gravity was nearly nonexistent and seemed to obey a fickle law previously unknown to the scientist: there was no solid ground to speak of, and their surroundings were traversed by floating yet strangely convergent currents of this pseudo-liquid amidst large-leaved plants swaying peacefully in warm, calm winds that never ceased completely.

This dimension, Ford thought, was the epitome of tranquility similar to what he’d experienced during his first encounter with Bill; right now, he understood perfectly why the demon had chosen to serve him tea.

As if reading his thoughts – Ford wouldn’t have been surprised if that was the case – a wispy creature descended from above to hand Ford a teacup, regular-sized this time and so delicate in appearance that it felt like holding petrified silk in his hands.

Ford smiled and thanked the creature in the lingua franca of this particular corner of the Multiverse. It had been nearly a decade since the last time he’d said a word in this language, and a revisit to the dormant part of his memory where the everyday necessities of his interdimensional travels were stored was as refreshing as their journey itself.

He couldn’t believe he’d delayed this opportunity to explore dimensions beyond his own for nearly a year… Then again, perhaps he’d had to admit first that he needed this just as much as Bill did.

Out of a habit, his hand reached for the breast pocket of his traveling coat folded next to him, searching for his toxin detector. He stopped as he recalled how outdated his survival gear was – besides, should he really have to worry about being poisoned in a dimension as thoroughly hospitable as this?

He looked at Bill, who had received his own teacup and tipped his hat appreciatively to their server.

“Are you sure this tea is safe to drink?” he asked the demon, who seemed amused by his caution.

“You think our everloving hosts are trying to poison you?”

“No, not at all”, Ford hurried to correct, realizing how rude his concern must’ve come off as. “I do not think anyone has been tampering the tea. I’m just wondering if it’s safe to drink for mortal beings such as myself, that is all.”

“Well, sheesh, lemme think! If all the tea you’ve downed so far in your sixty-eight years of being hasn’t killed, crippled or otherwise incapacitated you yet, I’m sure this cup here isn’t out to break the pattern, either! I mean, why would you guys invent something you can’t drink yourself?”

Ford sipped his tea – once again, he was vividly reminded of their teatime in the Dreamscape – while thinking back and forth on everything Bill had said. “What do you mean, we invented?” he asked at last. “Surely tea was first conceived in the dimension whose entire existence is defined by and devoted to it, right?”

“Time for a multiversal tidbit, Brainiac!” Bill straightened his relaxed position slightly to gain more power in his lecturing voice. “As you might be able to tell from the not-exactly-liquescent form of your drink of choice, what you’re holding in your big old freak hands is a cup of nothing less than the bare concept of tea materialized and cultivated to the finest form it can possibly take! Well, at this point of spacetime, anyway! They’ve had a few thousand years of active existence to master their craft, who knows what they’ll cook up in a few thousand more!”

“This dimension has only existed for a few thousand years? I assumed it had been around much longer. Wait…” Ford considered Bill’s earlier words and did the math. “Are you saying this dimension was born the moment the concept of tea was first invented in our realm?”

“More or less! To be fair, it was more of a hand-in-hand kinda deal! And I gotta give the credit where it belongs. See, it all began with a friendly heads-up from yours truly!”

“Are you saying…”

“I sure am!” Bill confirmed cheerfully. “As fast as the human imagination runs from time to time, you guys wouldn’t have gotten the hang of it without a little Dreamscape intervention featuring the all-seeing eye and the freshest news from a possible future!”

“So you… peeked into the future dimensions and saw this one, shared your visions with a human and urged them to invent tea, which in turn… gave birth to this realm.”

“You got it!”

“That makes no sense”, Ford pointed out, perplexed. “It’s nothing short of a paradox.”

“Hah! That’s what she said, and everyone else who was trying to keep me in check. A paradox, huh? I’ll drink to that!”

Ford leaned towards his companion. “Well, don’t leave me in suspense”, he urged. “Who was trying to hold you down? You must tell me the story behind this.”

Bill shrugged. “Ain’t much new to tell! You could just spin it together from what you already know, but since we both know introspection isn’t your jam, guess I might as well save you the trouble!”

“Wait… Slow down. Introspection, what do you mean by that?”

“What I mean is what it means! You’re proving my point as we speak – you’re the kinda guy who seeks answers by asking more questions instead of focusing on the question itself. Not judging, by the way, just stating a fact that’s actually relevant to what we’re going for here! The all-seeing eye is just that, a boring old eye meant to witness and process every cause and effect that takes place in the Multiverse, and only horn in when those causes and effects don’t line up the way it wants them to. But as you know, Bill Cipher was born a delinquent! What’s the point of dealing the cards if you’re not allowed to shuffle the pack first? What’s the point of having hands – figuratively, of course – if you can’t get hands-on with your day job?”

“But you do have hands, non-figuratively”, Ford pointed out.

Bill flailed his arms around. “Oh, these old things? Didn’t have them until after I started taking some liberties and meddling with you guys in person. Spoken language was still figuring itself out back then, and the folks of old didn’t feel like getting palsy with what was just a big googly eye before my folksy makeover.”

“Were you forbidden to interact with mortals?”

“Nah, that was my job! Having scored a personality was an unexpected eyesore, but a guy’s gotta do what a guy’s gotta do. We were supposed to keep the Multiverse in check, after all – that’s how knowledge works, it knits everything into nice, boring, concordant packages! Straight parallel timelines, with no twists and turns allowed!”

“But why?” asked Ford.

“When in doubt, take a look back to the nineteen-twenties! Tell me, why did production numbers blow up when your questionably brilliant namesake from the last century came up with assembly lines?”

“That must be because organizing the workforce by tasks makes the work easier”, Ford thought out loud, and then: “Oh… I see. Control.”

Bill closed his eye. “That’s right! Uniformity through specialization, all for absolute control! There’s a whole compartment in the Multiverse for that! The M Dimension, the one we’re lounging in now, Lottocron Nine, you name it! All because it’s easier for the top brass to make everyone sing the same note and discard the dissonant flunkees instead of going through the effort of teaching a quadrillion screaming voices to harmonize!”

Ford said nothing, frowning in deep thought.

“Hah, tell me about it!” Bill said cheerfully as if seeing right through Ford’s silence. “You humans even have a word for all that, handpicked from the funkier parts of your political history! But I digress!”

“Is that what you ultimately rebelled against?” Ford asked, seeking Bill’s gaze. “The rotten flaws of the Multiverse?”

Bill let out a brash laugh. “Ha! Please, Fordsy. The only freedom I’m fighting for is that of my own! Just because other crooks and freaks – even the ones with useless extra body parts”, he added with a wink, “– get to ditch their chains in the patchwork reality I advocate for doesn’t mean I would lift a finger for anyone but myself! Which begs me to ask: what do you call a guy with no agenda who somehow ends up freeing the enslaved anyway? Hahaha!”

“A patchwork reality, huh?” Ford repeated the demon’s words with a small smile. He had to admit he quite liked the sound of it. How could he not, when he himself had been an irregular piece in the puzzle of social expectations since birth? Bill certainly didn’t have any grand ideals or noble ambitions, but he was far from being wrong in his rejection of absolute cosmic order.

And if the status quo was cutthroat tyranny that only accepted those it deemed faultless… was anarchy and chaos truly any worse of an option? Who could blame Bill for revolting against such a merciless system?

Despite being mere narcissistic excuses of a harbinger of chaos, it was as though Bill’s reasonings were slowly starting to make… sense.

“Anyhoo”, said Bill, making a rewinding motion with his wrist as if to hark back to what they were discussing earlier, “long story short, somewhere along the line I decided to break the mold a bit! All I did was drop a hint at possible futures that didn’t exist just yet to a few humans whose Dreamscapes I dropped by, and suddenly the entirety of Omniscience was breathing down my figurative neck! Get this: ‘paradox’ was the cuss of the day, and consequences were swiftly turning into non-sequences! Turns out my little series of heads-ups had knocked over a whole row of dimensions, and the rift was getting out of hand! Wasn’t exactly their first time at the rodeo, though, so they managed to seal it and morph it into a dimension of its own – I give thee the Paradox Dimension, thank you very much – and the empty, lawless void that was left after a bunch of timelines were put into a quarantine was lovingly named…”

“…the Nightmare Realm”, Ford filled him in, eyes wide. “In other words… You broke the law of causality by letting mortals glimpse at futures yet to be fully established, creating a time paradox… which was then sealed away, but the Multiverse had been thrown off balance for good.”

“Don’t forget to give me credit for kicking off the first Time War on the side, too”, Bill put in in a profoundly amused tone. “The paradox turned all the time giants into babies, and it was all award-winning comedy gold downhill from there! As for me, I was thrown into the Nightmare Realm because they didn’t know what else to do with me – hah, so much for ‘all-knowing’ – but wait, there’s more! Those suckers never caught on to the fact that I was still keeping in touch with you guys, and when they did, my little dealings had swerved way beyond their beloved control!”

“That is truly… bewildering.”

“Real gist here is even this mellow dimension wouldn’t be up and running without the dicey enterprises of good old Bill! If the rest of Omniscience had had their way, we wouldn’t have tea! These astral pals would be good as gone! And as far as the small steps and giant leaps of humanity go, this leaf soup isn’t even the tip of the iceberg. Your kind would still be in caves without me! So you’re welcome!”

Ford looked around him. “It is hard for me to understand how all this could have been given birth to by the mere concept of tea”, he mused.

“That’s culture for ya! Part of the charm in ratting the Multiverse out to you guys is how you take every piece of information you can get your grabby hands on and run to the hills with it. Besides, tea was always social trickery more than a beverage, so these wispy pals have been inviting guests over from the get-go. Ain’t no culture without cultural exchange!”

“Is that why you introduced us to tea in the first place?” Ford asked with a smile. “To have company?”

He half expected a sneering answer, but instead of outright denying it, Bill made a long, half-hearted ‘meh’ sound. “To be real with you, your pal Bill wasn’t much of a people person back then. Took me a whole lot of faking it before making it – I just wasn’t that into your species just yet! Didn’t really care for the talks, all I wanted was to see some good old cause and effect spinning out of control! See, maybe I couldn’t get hands-on with the physical realm in person, but I did fancy thinking that at least some of it was my influential handiwork!”

Ford was tempted to ask if he was any more “into” the humankind now, but as he saw Bill raise his teacup to the creatures hosting them as a subtle gesture of appreciation, he settled for deciding that the just yet had been enough of an implication.

How strange it was to see this respectful side to Bill… even if he was simply faking it, as he’d said. It reminded him of the demon’s first interactions with Melody, and how baffling – and none the less irksome – their mutual cordiality had been for him to witness at the time. Now, he could understand their seamless bonding over a cup of tea a little better…

He smiled. It seemed some distance from their daily life and usual bickering did help him see a whole new side to his companion. What else could he still learn of him during their journey?

“Since we’re already here”, he started, “and nothing is stopping us from exploring the Multiverse further… Is there any place else you would like to visit?”

Bill glanced at him with a smirk. “Ha! I knew you wouldn’t be able to resist. Not gonna naysay, though! So let me get this straight – you’re giving me full control of the wheel? Never occurred to you that I could technically steer us right into the pit of imminent death?”

“You are as physically vulnerable as I am”, Ford reminded him, “so I trust you won’t take the risk. Of course, should your destination of choice not be safe for the both of us, I’ll be forced to seize your powers and take us back home immediately. Other than this precaution, I promise not to interfere with wherever you decide to take us.”

Bill weighed his options, but not for long. He turned to face their hosts while Ford got up to gather his outerwear and traveling equipment.

“Well, this has been great, but every teatime has to end! Hats off to the crew, you certainly lived up to your timeless reputation! My fellow freak and I have places to go, but we’ll be back before you can say pot and kettle! Right, Fordsy?”

“Absolutely”, Ford agreed with enthusiasm as he straightened up with his packed gear. “Any kind of store-brought tea has been ruined for me after this visit. We will certainly make this a regular excursion, if you’ll only have us.”

“You heard the guy!” hollered Bill, receiving a muffled cheer from the wispy aliens. “Keep up the good work, and we’ll meet again some sunny day!”

They left the dimension feeling splendidly rejuvenated, but not before the dimension’s inhabitants had filled the pockets of Ford’s coat with little souvenir scones.

Fast-paced, jazzy music was the first thing Ford’s senses could grasp as they reached their second destination.

“What is this place?”

“Dimension MT-T4 at your service!” Bill did the introductions. “Also known as the Showtime Dimension, the cradle of light-duty live entertainment! As picky with its audiences as the audiences are picky with its supply!”

Ford looked around the rather small and murky room they’d arrived in. “I see…”

“Oh, you haven’t seen nothing yet”, Bill promised, rubbing his hands together. “You got the prop?”

“The prop? Right, you must mean…” Ford reached for the pocket on the side of his backpack, pulled out Bill’s cane and handed it to his companion. “Well then”, he continued without giving further thought to the seemingly out-of-place request, “let’s find our seats, shall we?”

“You can find whatever you want, pal”, Bill threw back. “I didn’t come here to sit politely in the audience.”

Ford blinked. “Then… what did you come here for?”

And as he turned to face Bill, he could see something he’d practically never witnessed before: the triangle demon looked as though he was about to burst with excitement.

“To steal the show.”

Before the man could react, Bill was already flying forward with a very clear intent to invade the stage.

Ford almost expected to see guards rushing in as Bill settled a little to the side from the current performer, an octopus-like alien playing seven instruments at the same time, but no interruption came. With an unapologetic yet almost graceful motion, he stretched his occupied hand towards the performer – and, as the audience gasped in surprise, yanked the unsuspecting creature off the stage with the hook of his cane.

“Ladies, gents, normies and freaks, and none of the above! Have a fantastic evening, my good pals!” he hollered over the silence the abruptly paused music had left in its wake. “You know what time it is? Two times, actually! One for a stage coup, the other for a game of Guess Who! Now if you could kindly take a good look at your surprise guest star – oh, what’s that? Do I hear a bell ringing? You, sir!” he pointed at the nearest member of the audience. “Take a wild guess!”

“…Cipher?” the hippo-shaped alien with humongous floppy ears suggested in pure disbelief. “Bill Cipher?”

“BAM! A hundred points to Dumbo over here!” Bill yelled into the mic he’d snatched from the octopus, who was still shaking its tentacle curled into a fist at him. “It’s me, your old pal Bill! The all-seeing eye you’ve all met in your worst nightmares! The mastermind behind the most agonizing dystopian future every guy and pal in this room has had the questionable joy of dreaming up in my charming company! And, of course, you all know what I’m capable of! I COULD PUT YOU ALL IN CAGES AND START MY OWN LOSER CIRCUS, OR TURN YOU INTO A WHOLE NEW SPECIES OF FUNGUS THAT ONLY GROWS IN THE ARMPITS OF GNOMES –”

By now, Ford had stood up and raised his hands in preparation to assure the audience of Bill’s harmlessness; but when he looked around, he couldn’t see frightened faces or escape attempts. Instead, the crowd listened to Bill attentively, almost expectantly.

Baffled, he turned his eyes back to Bill, who seemed to know exactly where he was going with his maniacal manifest. “ – WATCH YOU SLOWLY FUSE TOGETHER INTO A CLUSTER OF LUNGS ENDLESSLY SCREAMING INTO THE EVERVOID! But, well, I’m not going to!” he suddenly whooped in a delightful tone, turning the mood of his speech upside down. “Would I enslave my own people? What do you take me for, a backstabber? Oh, sorry, Stabislava, didn’t see you there!” he waved at a spectator that, quite honestly, was just a knife in a frilly dress. The creature giggled at the sudden attention and waved back, earning a couple of docile laughs from the rest of the audience. “Stab all you want, sis, I’m not judging!” More laughter.

Bill waited until all eyes were on him again and started floating casually back and forth the stage. “Good to be here, my fellow space ravagers!” he announced into the mic with an amiable smirk. “Lotsa familiar faces here – hey Torch, who let you out of the Nightmare Realm? Is that a pacifier up your nose? And here I thought your gang couldn’t get any more embarrassing!” he sneered at another member of the audience. For a moment, the spotlight moved to a drum set in the back of the stage, and an iconic ba-dum-tss echoed across the room.

Bill turned around and stared angrily at the lonely drum set that seemed to play itself. “Hey, cut that out, will ya? This is not that kinda cartoon, and besides, that wasn’t even a joke. It’s just the way I talk! Moving on…”

“As you all know, your old pal’s been awol for a few, which, of course, isn’t anything new in this company! We’ve all had time in our hands, some of us more literally than others! Which reminds me, make some extra noise for our ex-convict department in the corner who dragged themselves all the way out here tonight!” An applause rang through the room. “You guys got your ball and chain, and I’ve got mine: the freak-handed guy right there! Not you, Spiderfingers! That’s right – you’re looking at Stanford Pines, the one and only! You may recognize him from old posters, or you may not, I don’t care! He’s not important, just a little running side joke leading up to the punchline! The important thing is he’s no less a felon than the rest of us here, well, except for you, Puppy Eyes! Still don’t know what sucker let you in!”

It was then, in the middle of cheering, that Ford spotted the sign announcing the theme of the occasion: ‘VILLAINS’ NIGHT OUT’.

He sat back down in awe. Bill was doing improvised stand-up comedy – and the crowd was loving it.

With just a few warm-up lines and haphazard roasts, the triangle demon had taken his audience; soon, he had them hook, line and sinker. His set was satirical, it was risky, it was brilliant. Ford found the creatures around him relating immensely to Bill’s experiences in captivity, and his nonsensical turns of phrases made them enjoyable for the man himself to listen to, even as he was repeatedly turned into the target of Bill’s mockery.

He didn’t mind. In fact, he couldn’t remember the last time he’d laughed so much, let alone at fun being made of himself.

When Bill eventually reached his grand punchline after a long buildup and at least as much meandering and sidetracking, he received a thunderstorm of applause and cheer.

Ford was eagerly waiting for him as he left the stage amidst a still continuing ovation. “Bill, that was… that was truly… You are a natural at this. I know, I know”, he said with a laugh as Bill raised his brow, “I shouldn’t be surprised.”

“You bet you shouldn’t! What d’ya think this look and all the multi-liners are for? You thought I was a Broadway dancer with an agitator side job?”

“Well, live comedy does make perfect sense, now that I’ve seen you on stage”, Ford admitted. For a moment, he broke out of his excellent mood and frowned a little. “Bill, I must ask… Aren’t you worried that identifying us both during your show could compromise our safety?”

“Hahaha! Relax, Brains, these guys don’t snitch around! That’s the weird thing about criminals, y’know. Just pat them verbally on the head in every third sentence you say, and they’re just about the loyalest bunch of kids in the Multiverse!”

“I hear you”, Ford said with a slant smile, not having forgotten how Bill’s former henchmen had treated him in the Nightmare Realm last year. “Well, I’ll admit I wasn’t prepared for you to show me the underground scene of the Multiverse, but I am thrilled you did.”

“Ha! You call this underground?” Bill chortled. “You haven’t seen underground, buddy! Hold that thought – I think I know exactly where to go next!”

“All right, this is where the real – hey, hey, hey, what the hell?”

They had certainly arrived in the dimension they were heading for, but Bill was jolted and furious at the glimmering sight that welcomed them.

“What is this? People waiting in lines? Admission fees? Harmonized music?” His glance shot up to the colossal neon sign arching above their heads. ‘Disco Dimension’? Oh, come on! You can’t just – change the name of a whole realm! What kind of a sick bastard does that? This place was designed for raves!”

“Interesting”, said Ford, scratching his chin. “So the essence of a dimension can change with time… Perhaps disco is what’s, hm, ‘hip’ in this day and age?”

Bill groaned. “What’s a guy gotta do to see a riot these days? What happened to good old escapism?”

“I’m quite sure there are other, more lawless dimensions out there we could visit”, Ford wondered. “But from what I gathered during our rescue mission last summer, you have no interest in seeing the Nightmare Realm again.”

“Not in a bajillion years!” Bill snarled. “If we’re talking buzzkill, that place just takes the cake and eats it too.” He let out a frustrated sigh. “Let’s just check out the VIP section and leave. Wouldn’t even want to have a reputation among these nerds, but I gotta at least shame the bouncer for not knowing who I am.”

That might not be such a good idea, thought Ford, recalling last time Bill had thrown a hissy fit for not being feared enough. But he decided to go along with it for now, and only intervene if needed.

To his relief, and Bill’s chagrin, they couldn’t find a VIP club, much less a bouncer – because, as a long-haired partygoer whooped drunkenly as it passed them by, “disco is for everyone”.

When Bill groaned even louder, Ford tried to be helpful and suggested a club they could see in the distance, one with a flashy exterior that oddly reminded him of the Fearamid. Fed up and disgruntled, Bill shrugged and headed to the pointed direction.

The inside of the building had absolutely no resemblance to Bill’s old castle, but at least there was a balcony from which he could ‘stare down at these yuppies with the condescension they deserve and register the state of this joint in its full misery so I can file a complaint later on’.

At least, he appeared less sulky leaning on the rail and watching the creatures below move to the disco beat. If anything, he seemed bored.

“So Fordsy”, he threw off-handedly after a while, “do you dance?”

“What? I, uh…” Ford scratched the back of his neck. “…unfortunately, no, not really.”

“Trick question, kid! Neither do I. Makes a guy wonder why we went clubbing in the first place. It even reads like a joke! ‘A nerd and a triangle walk into a bar’… Should’ve used that in my stage set. Ha!”

Ford laughed along; but something about this short exchange sent his gaze wandering in an awkward attempt to avoid Bill’s. He was suddenly reminded of Mabel’s confession last summer, and how she’d thought what she'd seen happen between Bill and him had been the two of them… dancing. He himself had gently turned down her interpretation of the scene and instead likened it to a hushed quarrel, and yet…

He secretly wished he could’ve allowed himself to find such innocent meanings in his confrontations with Bill.

He did not care for labels, and, since it was Bill, even preferred to steer clear of conventional rites and verbal expressions of… certain feelings. The current state of their relationship was more than ideal, it was beyond anything he’d ever dared to wish for – and yet he couldn’t deny the sense of something missing… something that had been there before.

Perhaps it was the decades of bad blood between them, the endless hostility and distrust? No, he couldn’t imagine ever longing for something like that.

Or, perhaps…

The odd blaze in Bill’s eye amidst a heated battle for verbal and physical dominance. The relief of being overwhelmed by something, not quite surrender but a sense of inevitability, and the disregard of common sense that followed… A mutual desperation.

Ford gulped, grateful for the dim lights that allowed the slight blush on his face remain unseen by others. The deep connection he had felt with Bill during their fleeting moments of physical contact was not something he could maintain or replicate in the current status quo – nor did he even want to. Those kinds of… acts of passion… did not come to him naturally, and were nothing but repercussions to strange spurs of moments he could no longer make sense of.

It would never be the same, and Ford was happy to cherish the mellow companionship they’d formed; but sometimes, he found himself yearning for a similar sense of intimacy, regardless of how they might reach it.

…And to reach a place…

Something flickered in his memory.

He turned to Bill, and saw he’d left his side to argue with the DJ. Whatever he was trying to convince him of – or, more likely, intimidate him into doing – didn’t seem to be suited to his or the partygoers’ interests, and when the demon lost his already tested patience and tried to meddle with the music himself, he was booed off the DJ’s station. He saw fit to present the crowd a universally recognized hand gesture before floating back to Ford.

“That seals the deal”, he grumbled as he reached his traveling companion. “Let’s roll.”

“As you wish”, nodded Ford. “If I recall our agreement correctly, it is now my turn to choose our destination.”

Bill made a face. “Oh, great. Well, can’t get much worse than this! So, whatcha got in mind?”

The man held out his hand. “You’ll be surprised”, he said with a secretive grin.

“Here we are.”

Bill didn’t look particularly happy as he inspected his surroundings. “The heck is this place? Why is everything so twinkly and cushiony and… pastel pink?” He squinted. “Wait just a damn minute… Six, you did not just drag me to –”

Ford laughed. “I apologize. This probably isn’t what you expected… Regardless, I thought you might want to see this place with your own eye, as I’m sure it is quite foreign to you.” He turned to look at Bill, granting him a smile. “Welcome to Dimension 52.”

Bill rolled his eye with a long, loud groan. “Sure, of course! Of course I’d want to ditch a former rave dimension and hop right into Big Frilly’s living room. Nothing like invading the personal space of your age-old oppressor!” He fell quiet for a moment and scratched the space below his eye thoughtfully. “Hm… Well, technically we are breaking and entering…”

“That is true”, Ford admitted. “I had to use my old Absentor 5000 to get past the dimensional border unnoticed. I’m quite certain the oracle or her associates would not allow me to bring you here.”

“Oh, I see”, said Bill, looking a little more pleased. “And why did you bring me here again? You know this is nothing new, right?”

“Right”, nodded Ford. “I’ve no doubt you know of this place. There isn’t much new you can experience, either, seeing how this is a place of tranquility with very few recreational activities to offer. However… There is something I wanted you to see, while being here yourself.”

He raised his hand and pointed upwards; they were standing at the root of a great mountain.

“The view from atop Mount Clarity.”

Bill blinked. “We’re down here, though.”

“Hm?”

“You want up, ya gotta climb”, Bill spelled out, annoyed. “And that’s one hell of a crawl for a geezer like yourself, if I may add. You could’ve just, y’know, set the top of the mountain as our destination point right from the get-go.”

Ford smiled. “I am aware of that. The climb is a vital part of the journey – I’ll explain properly when we reach the peak.”

Bill let out an unimpressed huff. “This better not be some kind of hippie crap… You do realize you’re the one who has to do all the climbing here, right? Me, I can just float up, see whatever underwhelming saccharine scenery I’m supposed to see, and be back for a refund before you can say ‘senior citizen killed in a hiking accident’.”

“I do realize that”, said Ford as he adjusted the straps of his backpack. “But I don’t see you flying up ahead of me.”

“And miss the best part of the show? Not a chance!” Bill cackled in smug delight. “If I’m gonna get anything out of this dumb little sightseeing trip of yours, it’s the sight of you caving in and admitting this alpine business has been out of your league since the late eighties. You know what, maybe this wasn’t a worthless stop after all! I’d say it’s high time for a reality check.”

Ford gazed up to the mountain’s peak; the climb wasn’t particularly high, but it was steeper than he’d remembered. “Granted, my physical constitution isn’t what it used to be thirty-seven years ago”, he said. “I am still quite confident that my endurance contests my age, but we’ll just have to try and see.” He stretched his legs and looked at Bill. “Shall we?”

“Whenever you’re ready, old man”, said Bill, his voice full of sneer. “Well then, this is gonna take a while! I should’ve brought a book. Aren't you worried about breaking curfew?”

“I am sixty-eight years old, Bill”, Ford answered briskly. “I don’t have a curfew.”

Bill smirked; but as the old dimension hopper took his first steps upwards on the steepening rock, he decided to save the snarky commentary for later, and allowed some room for curiosity instead.

Despite his confidence, soon Ford had to admit that the mockery his carefree endeavor had received wasn’t completely without grounds: he was breathless and his legs trembled with strain after only a fifteen-minute climb. But as he’d learned from his previous time on this mountainside, this was no race. As long as he kept his mind in focus and set firmly on his goal, his determination would extend beyond the limits of physicality.

As he gained an even footing and stood still for a moment to catch his breath, he shared this philosophy with Bill, and got another amused scoff for an answer.

“Hah! Let me guess, good old sister Seven-Eyes told you that? Figures! That lady’s never held anything back when it comes to deluding mortals into thinking they’ve got game in eternity!”

Ford rolled his eyes with a smile and let the demon have his entertainment. “To be fair”, he added nevertheless, “she gave me little more than a nudge to the right direction. This was an epiphany I had to discover by myself in order to stand up against you… I needed to overcome the wall of impossibility I had built around myself in fear of your power, and to gain the strength to fight back in spite of the seemingly insurmountable circumstances.”

“Whatever keeps your boat afloat, pal”, quipped Bill, though sounding less unimpressed than his words implied. “You know I’ve got an eye for ambition, even if you had to dupe yourself to get it rolling! But I think both you and that stuck-up pink palmreader are forgetting a little something.”

He floated close to Ford and placed a hand on his chest, glancing meaningfully up at the man. “This old beater right here”, he said. “It’s easy to be an everliving smartass when you’re just that, but what works for her might not work for you. No matter how tough you hang, if it takes you twenty-four more years to climb up this rock, all that willpower’s gonna total up to nothing. No, what really keeps you on the move is knowing that these drums –“ he patted the man’s chest lightly, “– are gonna quiet down eventually, and there’s no one to pick up your bucket list when that happens.”

“I suppose you’re right”, Ford conceded. “Nevertheless, the oracle’s guidance is what I dearly needed at the time, no matter what falsities it was built upon.”

“Spoken like only a human could”, Bill smirked. Ford expected him to retreat to the earlier distance, but the triangle didn’t move.

“Bill?”

“What? It’s interesting.” Bill’s eye was half-lidded, as if he was fully focused on the feeling of Ford’s heartbeat against his palm, subdued by layers of clothing. “To think the same thing that keeps you alive is going to zap you eventually.”

Ford scratched his head. “Well, I wouldn’t say that… My heart isn’t actively out to kill me. When the time comes, it will simply stop sustaining my lifeforce. It is quite different, I think.”

Bill gave him an odd look, but retreated at last, allowing Ford to continue his climb.

They proceeded in mutual silence, slow and steady. Ford took his time, sitting down and allowing himself a breather whenever he needed one. At first, Bill gave him a look of derisive triumph at the slightest sign of exhaustion, but with each time he stood back up and carried on, the triangle seemed to anticipate his complete resignation a little less eagerly. As they took a moment of rest halfway to the peak, Bill even seemed to grow a little impatient, staring at Ford as if wordlessly urging him to get back on his feet.

Somehow, their opposing goals had met each other in the middle, and the thought of it gave Ford an unexpected boost of energy to keep climbing.

“It’s not set in stone, you know”, said Bill after a while. “I wouldn’t know, what with losing the omniscient funk and all that!”

Ford turned to his companion. “What are you talking about?”

“The earlier, duh! Twenty-four years of tick-tock and all that! Look, all I’m saying is if I were you, I’d start looking into options for making that lifeforce sustain itself. Not making any promises here, but it wouldn’t hurt to try! You’ve got the whole wide Multiverse – that’s every technical and medical supply that ever existed – right here in the palm of my hand! In fact, I’m surprised you didn’t seize the opportunity the moment you put the cuffs on your old pal!”

Despite being in the middle of pulling himself onto the next footing, Ford had halted completely at these words, staring at the demon in bafflement. “I could be wrong”, he said at last after a considerably long silence, “but it almost sounds like you want me to live forever.”

Bill let out an ugly laugh. “Hah! You wish. Why would I? The longer you live, the longer I’ll be trapped in this meat thing. In fact…” He looked around for a second and pointed at the nearest precipice. “Hey Fordsy, I’m pretty sure that cliff over there has invisible stairs continuing from where you’d think the fall begins! No more climbing – I’d be tempted to give it a go if I were you!”

Ford laughed as he lifted himself up until his knee met solid rock again; he no longer found Bill’s half-hearted death lures even the slightest bit disturbing. “I am not willing to plunge myself into an early demise just yet… But I do not wish to hold onto life past the point of my natural death, either.” He heaved himself onto the next footing and let his breathing settle before turning to face Bill again. “One could say I have accepted my fate.”

“Uh-huh”, hummed Bill in a lukewarm tone. “One could also say you’ve accepted the fate of your worse half as well.”

Ford frowned. “My… worse half?”

Bill made finger guns at him, then knocked on his upper corner.

The man stared at his companion in silence that lasted several moments before turning away. “Bill”, he said, the sudden coldness of his tone sounding foreign even to himself. “Let this be the last time you refer to my brother as my worse half.”

“Oho, did that strike a nerve or –“

“I will not ask again.” For the first time in what felt like ages, he wished Bill would leave him alone, just for a moment.

He knew his rigid response must’ve been nothing short of provocation to Bill’s ears; but to his surprise, the snarky tantrum he was half expecting never came, nor did any other form of response… save for silence.

He was immediately hit by a pang of guilt as he realized the implication, no matter how unintended, of his words. “I’m sorry”, he said weakly, his eyes still averted from Bill’s. “I did not mean to threaten you. What I meant is I’d rather not talk about Stanley at this moment.”

“Suit yourself, Brainiac”, answered Bill, seemingly unconcerned. “Only thing you did was prove my point. Those pesky things only come around because you refuse to go around. As if I care.”

As they continued their journey, a strange thought occurred to Ford: perhaps, in his own way, Bill was only trying to offer his help.

…No, no, that couldn’t be. What an absurd idea. Perhaps Dipper was right, perhaps he was losing his…

…No. It was merely a passing thought. Besides, it was only natural to consider a different point of view…

…The more variables…

He shook his head, clearing his mind of the pointless internal debate. This was not the right time.

Just a few more cliffs to climb, and they would finally reach the mountain’s peak.

Ford was certainly more fatigued than after his first pilgrimage nearly forty years ago – but at the same time, he felt invigorated by the sensation of his aching muscles having regained a youthful sinew, the kind he hadn’t experienced since the end of his seafaring days. He glanced at his companion, knowing this trip wouldn’t earn him a similar satisfaction of exceeding oneself. At the very least, he hoped, Bill might find reaching the goal itself somewhat rewarding.

One last effort… He straightened up and drew in a deep breath, letting the seemingly endless scenery of this world stretching before his eyes overwhelm him.

It was strange how, after dedicating all of his strength for this strenuous endeavor, there were suddenly no steps left to take. He allowed himself a few leisure minutes until his heartbeat had calmed down before turning his eyes to Bill, who was similarly quiet alongside him.

“Well”, he said with a smile, “we made it.”

Bill shrugged. “Feel free to keep that cake for yourself, bud! All I did was goad you into a deadly leap of faith.”

“At the very least, you didn’t turn back halfway to the peak”, Ford pointed out. “Perhaps not all achievements require diligence, per se.”

Bill made a vaguely dismissive sound, but didn’t vocally disagree.

Content with this response, the man sat down with a huff and stretched his wearied legs. “This is the view I wanted you to see. What do you think? Was it worth coming along?”

Bill crossed his arms. “See, I’m trying real hard to figure out something here”, he snarled. “I’m thinking back on every bit of business I’ve ever done with you, and I just can’t riddle how I’ve ever given you even an inkling of the idea that this –“ he swished his hand towards the scenery, “– is something that’s up my alley of interests. One would think that after four decades you’d know better than expect me to go sparkly-eyed at this mushy, pink cotton candy disaster! So my educated guess is you’re pulling my leg. You knew I’d be every inch as unimpressed as when we got here, didn’tcha? You just wanted me to tag along.”

“You caught me guilty as charged”, Ford admitted with a laugh. “Yes, I lied about the view.”

Bill snorted. “Of course you did! Almost forgot who I’m dealing with for a second there.”

Ford couldn’t hold back a smile at the thought of himself being labeled the habitual liar out of the two of them.

“Granted, it isn’t the scenery that I wanted you to see, although it is quite marvelous in its own way… but I did want you to see something. Figuratively speaking, that is.”

“Pfft. You talk about seeing this and seeing that like it’s all the rage your little mortal dance has to offer”, Bill said in a humorous tone. “I don’t have a problem with that, being the eye and all, but you realize you’re not giving the blind much existential leeway here, right? Figuratively speaking, that is”, he added in mocking repetition.

Ford frowned in contemplation. “Do you mean a blindness of the heart?”

“Nah! Try blindness of the smarts, since that’s what you’re all about, IQ! You don’t have to look far for a textbook example, even more so in a few more years!”

The man felt a little uncomfortable jab in his chest. Bill was talking about Stan again.

“Life can be valuable”, he said, sounding less firm than he’d wanted, “even for those who lack the capabilities some of us have been granted.”

“Valuable? Eh, maybe”, Bill said off-handedly. “Equally valuable? Now that’s the real head-scratcher!”

Ford was quiet. He knew this was an answer that would elude itself the more he tried to wreck his brain over it – the irony didn’t escape him, either – so he decided to ignore it for now, and focus on the moment.

“In any case, there is something I wanted to tell you of this place.” He turned to gaze at the mountainous landscape covered by a tattered blanket of pale pink clouds that indeed, now that Bill had brought up the resemblance, reminded him of wisps of cotton candy. When his triangular companion expressed no mockery or insistence regarding the dropped subject, he continued.

“Upon my first meeting with the oracle, I was still young and restless… broken by your betrayal, frightened, angry – and above all, desperate for answers. She was the one who had arranged the installment of the protective metal plate inside my head, but my gratitude could not best my pride at the time. I challenged her in every way I could, blaming her for my involvement.”

“As you should”, Bill put in. “What business does she have sweet-talking mortals to do the dirty work for her?”

“That is what I thought at the time”, admitted Ford. “I accused her of having allowed your reign of terror to escalate for so long, and that she was using my grudge as an excuse to scapegoat me with the destiny to bring about your destruction. My resolve to end you was my own, and I loathed to see it as something bestowed upon me from above, regardless of my will. I did not trust her, but at the same time, I knew I needed her guidance in order to defeat you.”

“In the face of my defiance, the oracle sent me here – to conquer Mt. Clarity. Well, to be accurate, she did not like it when I referred to it as a conquest… And after I had reached this mountaintop, I, too, could see why.”

“So you did score a hippie event flag, huh?”

“I suppose you could say that.” Ford gazed at the unseen horizon. “Clarity in distance… The blessing in ignorance. Those concepts were foreign to me at the time – they still are, as I come to realize every now and then – but here, it is all very clear to me.”

“Oh yeah? And what part of oogling down at Marshmallow Land cleared it up for you again?”

“When I came back to the oracle, she told me that an all-knowing being cannot set their mind on a specific goal. This is because every answer is already there… everything is too close to a mind without the darkness of the unknown. One must distance themselves from those answers in order to make judgments, as those are what grants them the right to act as an individual, and not an impersonal agent of balance. And as you know too well, the omniscient are not allowed to be anything but the latter.”

“And not a single one of us cosmic know-it-alls has been able to resist stretching those boundaries just enough to have the bare minimum of a face, but sure, let’s go with that generalization”, Bill smirked. “They’re all a bunch of law-loving hypocrites, anyway.”

“Granted, I did not understand her words at the time, not in their full meaning, as I do now… after I learned how you came to be.” For a moment, his voice gained a shade of bitterness. “I wish she would’ve told me more about her kind, and you. She claimed my individual judgments were necessary, yet she couldn’t trust me to make them myself.”

“That’s the big matron nanny for ya”, said Bill matter-of-factly, reaching to pat his shoulder in mockery of compassion.

Ford glanced at Bill. “I must say you weren’t much better back then”, he pointed out. “The only substantial difference is that your manipulative means were a product of arrogance.”

“Meh! Still better than infantilization, don’tcha think? And if this is how we’re gonna incriminate, you’re not exactly the saint here, either”, quipped Bill.

“I never said I was”, Ford retorted with a frown.

“So you get the big idea!”

Ford was quiet for a short while; frankly, he’d expected Bill to continue his counterattack, and he didn’t have an answer ready. “Yes”, he said eventually, “I do. When it comes to arrogance, perhaps you and I are not that different. Isn’t that right?”

Bill rolled his eye in amusement. “That’s one way of saying ‘I’m a hack and aware of it, but don’t expect me to try to be any better than the next guy’, sure!”

“Isn’t that what you’ve always advised me to do?” asked Ford, gazing ahead. “Just look where my desperate efforts to better myself got me… And look how the course of my fate has changed for the better with every willful sidestep I’ve taken from my usual code of conduct.”

He shook his head with a smile. “I have learned my lesson. I recognize my flaws, and for now… that should be enough.”

“Whoa, a hack and proud?” Bill sounded genuinely surprised. “Gotta give it to ya, Fordsy – your pal Bill’s never felt less all-seeing before, because I sure as hell never saw that one coming. You mortals really do change.”

Ford grinned cautiously. “I certainly hope so. At the very least, I’m confident that I’ve learned from my mistakes… of all the times I’ve wronged those I’m privileged to call my friends and family.” He thought of Fiddleford, Stanley, Dipper, even Mabel in the clutches of Weirdmageddon. He thought of his other self, then quickly left the overpowering memory alone with a shudder.

“It appears”, he continued, “that the only way for me to shirk the unbearable guilt I have called upon myself is to assert… or perhaps admit… that I was weak enough to fall completely under your influence, which then amplified my faults into irredeemable ones.” He paused for a moment. “Am I weak? I already know the answer”, he hurried to say with a small smile before Bill could pipe in. “It’s just that weakness isn’t something I can easily associate with myself. Then again… neither is true happiness.”

“Oh, so we’re talking the big H now.”

“You abandoned me once, and I despise you for that. However, compared to those who deserted me when I was at my worst… and some who continue to do that even now…” He shook his head. “Back then, I was a brilliant young mind completely under your spell. You could’ve used my innocence to your own benefit, had you only kept spinning the web of lies you’d trapped me in. Perhaps Stanley was right in saying that you bring out the worst in me… but only because you choose to do so. You encourage the parts of me that make me vulnerable.”

“You mean like any other megalomaniac who wants their subjects powerless and at their mercy?” Bill pointed out casually.

“That is one way to look at it, I suppose”, Ford admitted. “But from my point of view, it almost feels like a form of acceptance. Be that as twisted as it may, you allow me to be weak, and stand by me regardless. I am not fortunate enough to say that of many others in my life.”

“Really? That’s the grand old happiness you’ve decided to settle for?” asked Bill.

“For now, yes.”

“’For now’, whew, saved by the bell! My slightly improved opinion of you was down for a deadly tailspin for a second there! Like I said, whatever keeps your boat afloat – as long as you don’t mistake this puddle for an ocean!”

Ford didn’t answer; his mind was too occupied with a strange, sentimental urge, one he saw little reason to fight down. It must’ve been his nostalgic return to this mountain, or the lifted weight of the words he’d told Bill, or the fact that he no longer felt any fear when confiding to him on such private feelings…

He gave the demon a swift glance. For all he knew, there might never be a more perfect moment.

Without a word, he reached to take Bill’s fingers in his, pulling them closer; and as there were no signs of opposition, he bowed down his head until his lips met the pitch-black hand.

The moment lasted longer than he’d intended. Then again, he didn’t remember ever intending to end it.

The brave thrill that quickly took over couldn't completely subdue the tingle of embarrassment in the back of his neck. As he finally retreated, he glanced up at Bill, and saw he didn't seem to mind at least. It was difficult to tell how he felt from the stare his unannounced gesture had earned. But he’d allowed it, and that was enough for Ford.

“Thank you.” The words slipped past his lips involuntarily, but there was no need to take them back.

“For what?”

The man averted his gaze, but his smile didn’t waver.

Thirty-seven years… and twenty-four more to come.

He turned his eyes back to the horizon. “The oracle told me I would return to this place one day…” he said quietly. “Little did she know I'd bring my muse with –“

…huh?

My m…

Slowly, as if his fingers had been drained of all strength, he let go of Bill’s hand. What had he just…

This couldn’t be right. This couldn’t be happening again.

He’d returned to Mt. Clarity under the belief that his connection with Bill had come full circle; but now, he could only see that same circle starting all over again. There was no closure, no end to this, it was all just another –

“FREEZE!”

The echo of a sharp roar sliced the mountain’s already disturbed peace in half.

The hand Ford had held in his a second ago was snatched violently away, and a pair of sturdy handcuffs sizzling with an electromagnetic force field locked the demon’s wrists together, rendering him immobile.

Ford blinked. “W… what?”

As soon as he could register his captured position, Bill, as was so typical of him, resorted to vocal protest and blame.

“Stanford!” he shrieked. “What did you do?”

“What… what did I do?” Ford repeated, slowly starting to make sense of the situation; he’d instantly recognized the uniforms on the two men that were holding Bill captive. “What did you do?”

“This is the Time Police”, one of the men confirmed what Ford had already guessed. “Bill Cipher, you are under arrest for your crimes against Dimension ‘46/ as well as the physical obliteration of Time Baby.”

“You killed Time Baby?” Ford repeated in horror.

“Well, duh! He crashed my party and tried to throw down! What’d you expect me to do, kiss him on the forehead and sing him to sleep?”

“In fact, I’m pretty sure that would’ve done the job”, the second intruder pointed out. “But you just had to commit infanticide, didn’t you, buddy?”

“I ’m not your buddy, pal! ”

“I’d read you your rights, but after you killed the only official of jurisdiction we had, I regret to say you don’t have any.” The other officer scratched his hefty chin. “I don’t actually regret saying that.”

“Well, this is some rich baloney right here!” Bill bristled, kicking his feet uselessly. “What’s the point of arresting me if you can’t even scrap together a legal system without that stupid baby?”

The second officer bent down to cuff Bill’s legs as well, much to his dismay. “That’ll be for the Corporate to decide.”

“The Corporate? You gotta be kidding me! Those guys don’t do court! Even the big thumbsucker had a better sense of justice, and he traded pardons for cheap floor shows!”

“Maybe you should’ve thought of that before you killed him, jackass”, said one of the men bluntly, pointing an accusatory finger at their captive.

Bill groaned, his voice getting louder until it was nothing short a frustrated scream.

The policemen shared a crabby look; but just as one was about to press an ethereal mute button that appeared in front of him, the triangle suddenly burst into a torrent again.

“So that’s it? You’re just gonna put the fire in a jar and let the arsonist walk free?” he raged. “Why don’t you ask him why he’s schlepping along in this sappy setting with a wanted criminal, huh?”

Ford startled; he was so focused on trying to keep up with the situation that it took him a moment to respond to being addressed. He swallowed his confusion and composed himself to his best ability.

“It is true”, he affirmed, quickly realizing he would be left behind if he didn’t make himself relevant. “I am the one who performed his resurrection. Hence, I am responsible of his current state of existence… and, by extension, his actions as well.”

“YEAH!” Bill hollered. “If you wanna snatch a chew toy for the Corporate, he’s your guy! Look, he volunteers and everything!”

“Bill, what’s going on? And what on Earth is the Corporate?” Ford asked him in a hushed voice, but it was too late – the mute button was pressed down, and although Bill was evidently still screaming, he couldn’t hear a word of it.

The officers were now looking at each other, muttering quietly; Ford could make out the words ‘technically, it’s not a time crime’ and ‘I’m not sure if anything is these days’.

At last, they turned to him.

“You’d better come along.” The man scratched his futuristic head. “Uh, so… Should we handcuff you as well?”

“No need”, said Ford soberly as he stepped onto the force field the other two were standing on. “I am chained as is.”

#Blood Chains #gravity falls #fanfiction #billford #stanford pines #bill cipher #dipper pines #stan pines

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parchmints · 6 years

Text

Connect-the-Dot Pictures

Relationship: Lance & Lance’s Father Words: 1,917 Rating: G Warnings: None Notes: This was my submission for @lancitozine ! My section assignment was “Pre-Garrison/Cuba” so I wrote little six-year-old Lance bonding with his dad :’)

Fic Summary:

When Lance is six-years-old, his father takes him stargazing...

[Read on Ao3]

Connect-the-Dot Pictures

Lance pressed his nose against the cold window of his family’s well-loved Buick. Outside, the tall grasses and worn fences of rural Cárdenas blurred into a hazy ocean lit only by the ebbing headlights of the car.

The night was so steeped in inky blackness that Lance felt like he was in a rocketship floating through space, instead of riding in the backseat of a classic, cobalt-colored car. The idea made the six-year-old boy’s lips tug into the bright, gap-toothed smile that his mother would regularly coo over.

“Sit back, mijo! And put your seatbelt on. That’s not safe,” Lance’s father said, flicking his eyes to the rear-view mirror. Lance, unable to ever defy the strong, stern voice of his father, did what he was told.

“Yes, Papá,” Lance said, clicking the tongue of his seatbelt into the buckle, then looking back out the window.

“Thank you,” his father called.

Lance watched the stars blur past in wonder and decided he liked the sky. He liked looking at it, and he liked drawing the sun and the moon when his big sister let him borrow her crayons. Remembering the moon, he wanted to get a glimpse but he couldn’t see it out of any of the windows.

“Papá, where’s the moon?”

“The moon is in the sky. You know that.”

“But I can’t see it. Is the moon hiding?” Lance asked seriously, looking out the windows on either side of him to try and find a sliver of glowing white.

His father let out a rumbling chuckle and looked back into the rear-view mirror with crinkled eyes.

“Yes. Every month, the moon likes to hide behind a shadow, but she’s still there.”

“Oh.”

Lance looked up through the window again and lost himself in the whooshing of the sky overhead, wanting to swim in it. He wondered if he could play a game of hide-and-seek with the moon and maybe, if he found her, she would come back out.

“Where are we going?” Lance asked, his voice soft and muddy.

“Actually, I have a question for you first.”

“You do?”

“Yes. Lance, can you tell me why you’ve been interrupting Profesora Diaz in class? She told your mamá that you’re distracting the other students.”

For several moments, the car was silent except for the soft rumbling of the car driving over asphalt.

“Am I in trouble?” Lance asked in a small voice.

“No, not if you tell me the truth. Why are you interrupting class?”

“I-I don’t know.”

“Well, think. Why do you want to do it if your profe says she doesn’t like it and asks you to stop?” Lance’s father asked and Lance squirmed in his seat. His father said he wasn’t in trouble, but it felt like he was in trouble.

“Um, it’s fun.”

“It’s fun disobeying your profesora, mijo? Is it fun making her day harder?”

Lance winced and suddenly felt very guilty. He liked his profe a lot and he didn’t want to cause her trouble.

“No.”

“Then, why is it fun?”

Soft silence again.

“The other kids laugh when I make jokes and fart noises, papá. They all look at me.”

“Ah, I see,” his father said, taking a hard right onto a dirt road.

“Papá, where are we going?” Lance asked again. His father had only announced that they were going to spend some one-on-one time together an hour ago, and Lance so rarely got time alone with his father that he didn’t bother to ask questions. Instead, he leaped at the chance to go on a night drive with him and relished the confused looks of his older siblings as he was ushered out the door after dinner.

“You’ll see. We’re almost there.”

Within a few minutes’ drive of bumpy terrain, Lance’s father parked the car. Excited to see their destination, Lance unbuckled his seat belt and groped for the door handle.

“Do you need help?” his father asked, already halfway out of the car.

“Nuh uh. I can do it!” Lance said, his small hands already finding the door handle. With his brow furrowed and cheeks puffed, he shoved against the heavy door until it opened enough for him to drop out.

Lance trotted over to his father, who was rummaging in the trunk of the car, and grabbed his pant leg to let him know he was there.

“Mijo, are you cold?” Lance’s father asked, looking down at him. The humid, Cuban night air was never very cold, but now that his father brought it to his attention, his blue rocket t-shirt wasn’t going to cut it. He nodded his head and his father threw a piece of olive green fabric at him.

“Here, Luís left his jacket in the car. Put it on and make sure you shut your door.”

Lance’s father went back to the trunk and pulled out a sleeping bag as Lance inspected the article thrown to him. He grinned as he realized it was his eldest brother’s super cool, super grown-up green hoodie. He put it on, but it completely engulfed him as the hem reached his knees and the sleeves flopped uselessly over his hands. He loved it.

He ran back to the car door to shut it and once he did, his father was right behind him holding a rolled up sleeping bag, a thermos, and a lit flashlight.

“This way,” his father said, gesturing ahead. Lance followed him and saw that they were walking towards a grassy hill that stood out among the mostly flat land.

Together they trekked up the hill until they reached the top and Lance’s father put down the supplies he’d been carrying. He unrolled and unzipped the sleeping bag to lay it on the ground and then sat cross-legged on it, the thermos and flashlight next to him.

“Sit next to me, Lance,” his father said, patting the spot by his side and Lance quickly obliged. His father grabbed the thermos, opened it, and poured a hot, dark liquid into the cap-cup. The liquid had a thick, sweet smell and Lance’s face lit up once he realized what his father had brought.

“Is that hot chocolate?!”

Lance’s father chuckled and nodded.

“Yeah!!” Lance shouted as his father handed him the cup.

“Blow on it, it’s hot.”

“Okay,” Lance mumbled before blowing into the cup, then taking a sip. His chest warmed as the drink slid down his throat and he couldn’t help but smile up at his father.

“Is it good?” his father asked, returning the smile.

“Mm-hm!”

“What do you say?”

“Thank you, Papá!”

“That’s right. You have to thank your mamá when we get back too. She made it for us.”

“I will.”

They sat quietly for a couple of moments, enjoying the cool night air and the rare treat of hot chocolate before Lance’s father broke the silence.

“Lance, did you know your papá was just like you?”

Lance looked up at him and tilted his head in confusion.

“Like me?”

“Yep, I was the youngest of six, so I had lots of big brothers and sisters—just like you, mijo.”

“But Papá, you’re so old!” Lance said with wide eyes and his father let out a bark of laughter.

“That’s true, but my siblings are even older.”

“They must be like a bajillion years old!”

“Not quite, but almost,” Lance’s father said with another laugh, “but, y’know, sometimes being the baby of the family was hard. Sometimes I felt like my mamá and papá didn’t have time for me. Sometimes I felt like I was invisible. Sometimes I would act out in class because of it.”

“Really?” Lance asked, flabbergasted.

“Mm-hm. Do you feel that way, mijo?” his father asked, looking down at him. Lance stared at him for several seconds with wide eyes and then looked down at his hot chocolate.

“Sometimes.”

Lance’s father nodded, “My papá brought me here when I was little and you know what he told me?”

“What?”

Lance’s father turned off the flashlight and brought a hand to rest on Lance’s shoulder.

“He told me to look up at the stars,” he said and Lance gasped as he did. Never in his life had he seen so many stars in the sky before. He had no idea so many stars existed.

“Whoa!”

“Beautiful, huh? Look, the Big Dipper is there! Can you see it?” Lance’s father asked and he spent a couple of minutes showing Lance the outline of the constellation.

“There’s pictures in the stars?” Lance asked.

“Yes, they’re like connect-the-dot pictures and just like with connect-the-dot-pictures, if you take away even one dot, you ruin the picture, right?”

“Yeah.”

“Well, people are a lot like constellations or connect-the-dot pictures. See, it might seem that because there are so many stars, if you take away just one, it wouldn’t matter, but that’s not true. If you take away one star, you ruin the picture. Every star is important, and Lance, every person is important.

“Each star has a role to play and so does everyone in the world. Nobody can be you but you, Lance. Remember that. You’re never invisible. You’re part of something big and beautiful, mijo. Does that make sense?”

Lance looked from his father to the stars above and then back to his father. He was a little confused, but he at least understood that his father was telling him he was important and that was enough.

“Yeah, Papá.”

“Now, will you be a good boy in class for me? You can make jokes on breaks but you’ve gotta listen to your profe when she’s teaching you. She’s helping you learn. That’s why she’s important.”

“I’ll be good, Papá. I promise.”

Lance’s father smiled and ruffled his son’s hair.

“Do you want more hot chocolate?”

“Yeah!”

Once again, they fell into a comfortable silence, sipping on hot chocolate and looking up at the stars. Lance went over what his father said in his head again, about how each star was important even though there were a bajillion-million. He looked at the stars and tried to pay attention to each one on their own but there were too many. Then, an idea struck him.

“Papá!”

“Yes?”

“Papá, I wanna see the stars when I grow up!” Lance said, pointing up at the stars and tugging on his father’s sleeve.

“Oh? And how will you do that, mijo?”

“I’ll-I’ll-!” Lance looked around for the answer until it struck him, “I’ll show you!”

He shimmied out of his brother’s jacket and brought the sleeves up around his neck. He stood and held out the sleeves to his father.

“Can you tie them?” Lance asked and his father let out a soft chuckle but obliged. With the sleeves tied around his neck, the torso of the jacket flapped behind him like a cape, and he looked for the right place to stage his announcement.

He found it in a nearby rock that was perfect to perch on and ran to it. He hoisted himself onto the rock then stood to his full height and placed his fists on his hips.

With a big, dashing smile he called to his father, “Papá! One day, I’ll visit every star in the universe and tell them they’re important—just like you said! I’ll be a super space hero!”

Lance’s father, full of laughter and pride, gave his son an amused grin and a round of applause.

“I’m sure you will, Lance. I’m sure you will.”

#vld lance #lance mcclain #voltron #vld #lance vld #baby lance #voltron legendary defender #lancitozine #lance's family #the mcclains

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codylabs · 6 years

Text

Chapter 19: The Worst of Times

Links: P 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18

An honest-to-goodness alien spaceship came careening out of the sky, directly toward the town. At the last possible second, it pulled up and curved away, close enough that the people on the streets could feel the pull of its gravity drive. Then it swerved unstably side to side through the sky, as its pilot attempted to get bearings. Soon it seemed to pick a direction, and so tilted on one end and raced off toward the hills, slicing off a couple treetops as it went. When it passed over the Mystery Shack, it took a sudden drop in altitude, hovered into something resembling a standstill, bumped once into the side of the building, and settled to the ground upside-down.

Its engines wined tiredly as it rolled itself back right-side-up, and finally came to a rest right between Soos’ truck and the Stans’ RV, like just another car in the parking lot.

The airlock momentarily opened and two sore but triumphant teenagers blinked in the light.

“Ugh…” Dipper dropped the alien instruction manual and rubbed his arms with a groan. “Ow…”

“Bro…” Wendy staggered slightly and shook her head, her inner ear still spinning from the flight’s antics. She gripped her fingers around the upper rim of the airlock, and hoisted herself out before extending a hand down to Dipper. “That was… Bleh…”

“Yeah… Bleh…” Dipper took her hand, and let himself be lifted up.

“Let’s… Uh…” Wendy set him down beside her and gave him a friendly slap on the back. “Yeah… Let’s not… Not do that again.”

They both dropped down off the vehicle’s rim, limped over to the Mystery Shack porch, and plopped themselves down on the sofa, where they could massage and stretch their sore bodies in relative peace.

After about 5 minutes of sitting there groaning, Wendy reached an arm way over in the direction of the cooler, and came back with a pair of ice cream sandwiches. One she tossed to Dipper, the other she unwrapped herself. The cool milky goodness reminded them how hot they were, and they began to unbuckle and loosen their armor. Wendy took a moment to admire all the scratches and dents she’d accumulated on her shoulder pads, and Dipper took a moment to subtly readjust his pants for reasons we won’t go into. Finally he spoke up again. “Yeah… And if we do do that again… I’ll drive.”

“What? No…” She smirked sharply at him. “That was fun, man… I mean… I mean, that wasn’t bad, was it?”

A smile twitched at the corner of his mouth. “…You drive spaceships about as well as you drive cars.”

“Yeah, well…” She struggled for a retort. “Well… You read Alien-ese about as well as you read Spanish. ‘That’s the reactor ignition’ you said. ‘push that button’ you said. ‘try those switches over there’ you said… But was it any of those?”

“No… No, we made it out by dumb luck…”

“Yeah…”

“Ugh… Sorry.”

She blinked. “Yeah… Hey, you know what, I’m sorry too. I totally forgot all about the rotation controls there during takeoff. And I guess I am a pretty bad pilot all-in-all…”

“Ahh… It’s fine… It’s just barf. It washes out…”

“Ha ha… Ooooh.” She took another bite of ice cream. “That’s gross dude.”

“Breaking news! Dipper is gross!” A new voice suddenly joined the conversation, its owner leaping out of the door to land in a smug summersault before them. With a big metal smile and a voice like a TV announcer, she held her own ice cream sandwich like a microphone. She was talking again by the time the screen door banged shut behind her. “Stay tuned next time for these and other shocking revelations, such as: grass is green!”

“Ugh! Mabel!” Dipper frowned.

“What is UP, Dippingsauce?!? Say, when did you guys get back?”

“Like… Just now?” Wendy shrugged.

“Mabel!” Dipper hissed at a volume he thought was quiet. “Go. A. Way. You were ruining the… Ermmmph…?” He nodded toward Wendy in a way he thought was discreet.

“Oh, what?” Mabel laughed. “Did I ruin the moment? I thought you were talking about how gross you were! Well excuse ME for mussing up the moment, you adorable lovebirds!”

“I…! Guh! Mabel! Go away!”

“Maybe I will, but I'll never be faaaar... Ooooh-weeEEEEE-Oooooh...!” She made a mysterious alien noise.

“Say…” Wendy interrupted, eager as anyone to steer the girl toward alternative conversation topics. “What have you been doing all day, dude?”

“Oh, ME?” Mabel smiled. “Well, I… I! I have been thinking and braining and computing, and I think I’ve finally found a way for you guys to solve your little adventure. A big, grand, happy solution! A way that doesn’t involve killing all the alien robots. I way where people are still safe, but also nothing has to be extinct!”

“Oh yeah?” Dipper glanced at her, intrigued. “And what would this big, grand, happy solution be?”

“Nuh-UH! I can’t tell you! It’s a super secrety secret that only Soos and Robbie are allowed to—SWEET MOTER OF CINNAMON IS THAT A UFO?!?”

“Uh…” Dipper glanced over his shoulder. “That? No, of course not.” He shook his head and took another bite of ice cream. “’UFO’ stands for ‘Unidentified Flying Object.’ Whereas that machine is perfectly identified. It is a nuclear-powered sub-light cargo shuttle manufactured on Trilazzxx Beta, as exploratory equipment for Colonial Vessel 4.16’\. An extraterrestrial spacecraft. Not a UFO.”

“OH MY GEEEEEEEE…! Soos, get out here! Dipper and Wendy got us a UFO!”

Soos appeared at the door with a heaping mouthful of grass. “DUDE!” He gasped some down his windpipe, and spent the next several seconds coughing it back up as he ran after Mabel toward the vehicle. “Dude it’s a spaceship! Duuuuude!”

“Duuuuuuude!”

“Duuuuuuuuude!”

“DUUUUUUUUUUUDE!”

Mabel and Soos clambered up the side and disappeared down the airlock.

“…And we’re sure that thing is harmless, right?” Dipper blinked.

“At this point? Yes. And I also took the keys.” Wendy reached into her pocket and pulled out something like a cross between a sonic screwdriver and a feather duster. “I think these are the keys, at least…”

“Ha ha… Good move…”

“Yeah…”

They were silent for a few minutes more.

Dipper took a deep breath.

Wendy took a deep breath.

“So…” He began.

“So…” She began at the exact same time. This seemed to cause some form of mutual interruption, and caused them to both stop talking.

“Go ahead.”

“No, you go ahead.”

“Okay…” She continued. “So…” She let the word hang in the air for a minute, unsure of how to follow up on it. “So… We started a conversation earlier that we never got to finish.”

“Oh…” Dipper stammered. “Oh yeah. Uh… We did, huh? Yeah…”

“About how this adventure might very well be our last. About how if we’re not careful, we might never hang out again. About how I’ll miss you and you’ll miss me and neither of us really want that to happen and, like, what should we do about that…?”

“Uh… Uh… Yeah…”

“Hmm.” Wendy grunted.

And then they fell silent again.

Finally Dipper opened his mouth. Then he closed it, cleared his throat, and tried again. “Wendy, uh… I was wondering if tomorrow… Uh… If… Uh…”

“What?”

“Uh…” A spell of dizzy itchiness seized him about that time, and it got just a little too much to bear. “Uh…”

“What?” She repeated.

“Umm… Never mind.”

“No no no no!” She insisted. “You started a conversation earlier, and now you better finish it. And you just started a sentence just now, so you darn better finish that too. If you really do have something you want to say, you darn better man up and speak up, or who knows; one of us could die in the meantime. You never know when you'll never have another chance, so take it now.”

“UH!” He squirmed nervously. “No, it’s not… Never mind. I changed my mind.”

“Changed your mind…? Really?”

“Uh…” Dipper took a breath, set his jaw, and finally said. “Okay.” Then he looked her in the eye and, with a truly monumental effort of courage, said it. “Wendy… Do you want to go on a date with me tomorrow?”

Her mouth slowly spread into a little smile as she leaned back and took another bite of her ice cream sandwich. Then she said. “I do.”

Then…!

Then… That was…

That was it… Wasn’t it?

That night Wendy came home tired, happy, and strangely optimistic… Everything seemed pretty good. Pretty chill.

Everything wasn't pretty good.

When she crawled into bed, turned out the lights and drifted off to sleep, something was wrong… It wasn't a happy sleep. A darkness seemed to encroach upon her mind, and forced upon it a new vision; a new vision, filled with darkness.

Within this evil nightmare, the day seemed to run the same way that she remembered. Just the way it was supposed to… Yes, everything was exactly the same… Until…

Until everything went wrong.

The ship exploded. Little bits and pieces flew from its port-side wing, as it tumbled for the ground. The controls fought back against her, the ground came much too fast, she missed the yard entirely, and crashed in the forest.

The ship tumbled end over end, breaking into pieces, littering the landscape with debris. Fires started. Radiation cooked the area at the atomic level. Ford evacuated people for their own protection. When he found Wendy, he had her strip to her underwear before he blasted her with the hose, trying his best to decontaminate her scarred skin.

But Ford had been irradiated himself; an even higher dosage than she. He was sick within hours, and nobody had seen much of him since. They say he’d retreated to the solitude of his lab, where he spent the hours and days doing who-knows-what.

Soos had to move his family out of the Shack. And as they sat together in a lonely motel room, he realized that there was so much heartbreak and brokenness and chaos roaming about that he couldn’t fix it. Even the greatest handyman in the world couldn’t fix it. He knew it, and the knowledge tore him up inside.

Melody had her hands full enough just trying to keep the hotel room in shape.

Abuelita found herself without her recliner for the first time in decades. The futon was a pretty big step down.

Stan found himself as a caretaker of sorts. He kept them fed and sheltered, much as he was able, kept them together and stable to the greatest of his ability. The same man who had brought them all together as Mr. Mystery now brought them together as their Grunkle. And what a Grunkle he was; but even he couldn’t reach Mabel.

Mabel.

As for her, there were no words for what she felt. It seemed that something inside her had suddenly snapped, and she’d retreated into her shell. Nothing seemed to be able to pierce through.

And Dipper…

Dipper was dead!

Wendy awoke with a sudden gasp, and found herself sitting up in bed, the sheets hot and sticky against her skin, her eyes glued on the moon out the window, her breath coming ragged and heavy.

What a nightmare that had been! It was so vivid! Almost as vivid as reality! When she tried to remember it, it didn’t elusively fade like dreams usually do; she could recall it so clearly… The image of Dipper’s bloody, broken body still hovered before her eyes, the broken lives and dreams, the sickness, the pain. She could see it almost as clearly… As… Reality…

But… Wait… Reality…?

Reality was the happy landing… The ice cream… The smiles… The awkward little invitation…

Right?

What was…?

What…

Which was the dream?!?

Wendy’s eyes slowly strayed around her room, searching in dread for the clues which would tell her.

She saw the 4 journals lying open on her desk; three red with the symbol of a hand, and one blue with the symbol of the tree.

She saw the pitcher lying next to her bed, so she had a place to barf if she again felt sick in the night.

She felt the light cotton shirt across her chest, the only thing she could wear that didn’t hurt so bad when it rubbed on her radiation burns.

She saw the little container on her nightstand, with some long, cumbersome scientific label: the pills Ford had given her to flush the latent Uranium from her body.

She saw her calendar, with its extra marks telling her she’d been bedridden 4 days now.

She saw the ‘get well soon’ cards her friends had made, lying in a messy little stack.

She saw last night’s dinner sitting where dad had left it on the foot of her bed; stone cold and untouched…

And on the windowsill directly in front of her, she saw a shattered, oil-stained axe; the axe Dipper had used to defend her to his dying breath.

Wendy’s mind, now fully awake, began to put the grim picture together: the happy ending was the dream. Instead of the nightmare, it was the good day that faded quickly from her consciousness, leaving nothing to recall it by except a vague, groundlessly hopeful feeling. The nightmare had taken its place in her memory.

And now, Wendy was struck with a sudden and powerful feeling of Deja-Vu: she’d been having the same dream for the past 4 nights. Each time, she vaguely recalled the relief, the peace, the life and love… Everything always seemed pretty chill… Then each time, she fell asleep. And the dream within a dream was a nightmare, and when she woke from both she beheld that the nightmare was true. Somehow, inexplicably, it had always been true…

Reality was the nightmare…

Bill would have been tickled pink.

Wendy would suffer no more sleep tonight. Instead she eased herself out of bed, dragging the quilt behind her for warmth. Then she flipped on the lamp above her desk, and watched the weathered pages of the journals appear before her in the yellowish light. Her butt landed on the chair, and her eyes landed on the pages, and there both stayed as the small hours ticked by.

This wasn’t right. She told herself. It wasn’t this way, and it won’t be this way. I don’t know how it could ever be fixed, but there IS a way, and I WILL find it. As she turned another page, she repeated this promise to herself a second time, and she believed it. She knew it.

Wherever you are, Dipper… Listen to me, and don’t you give up hope. Things look bad right now but somehow, somewhere, sometime, I’m coming for you. I will save you.

You had honor and grit beyond your years, Dipper. You were the one who taught me determination. You were the one who taught me heroism. Whatever it is I need to do, I learned it from you. If it had been me dead out there, you would have done the same and more for me, with neither hesitation nor doubt. And you wouldn’t have let depression or despair or a little Acute Radiation Syndrome stand in your way.

Listen to me Dipper, and hold fast.

I won’t be long.

I promise you life.

“Learn to think dark thoughts, my girl.”

These were the words Robbie had given Mabel 4 days ago, when he’d scorned her spirit and left her. These words had been given to her 23 minutes before Dipper died.

She shouldn’t logically have known of his demise on such short notice. She’d been in the van at the time, on the way to the motel, complaining and talking and joking with Soos and Melody… Then… She’d suddenly and inexplicably felt a piece of her soul shatter to pieces. Maybe it was just the minutes ticking by when nobody spoke or called. Maybe she’d suddenly put it all together: how the only place a dirty UFO could have come from is on-planet. How the only people who were currently investigating aliens (and thus the only ones who would ever find such a craft and try to land it in their yard) were Dipper and Wendy. Maybe Robbie’s words had set off a chain reaction of unreasonable, escalating paranoia.

It was probably the work of some kind of latent twin ESP.

It didn’t matter how she’d known.

She just had.

And thus did the civil war begin.

It was the spark that set the two sides of Mabel’s soul afire in hatred against the other. They donned their armor, they took up weapons, and they charged headlong into war on the surface of her mind.

The light half of her brain cried foul at the claims of the darkness; it said that Dipper wasn’t dead at all. “It’s all right!” The light half said. “What do you mean he’s dead? Of course he’s all right! He’s always been all right! He’s always been there for you, you’ve always been there for him, and nothing in the universe can stand between! That’s the way it’s always been, and that’s the way it will always be! Your love for him conquers all! And even if he is dead; so what? Together, you’ve conquered things more powerful than death before, and you will conquer them again! You’ve battled across space and time, you’ve grappling-hooked your way through demons and robots! So long as the name ‘Pines’ still dances in the sunny fields of Gravity Falls, your hope and your love will endure! Stand up and laugh at cruel fate, Mabel! The others need your strength!”

“Of course he’s dead.” The dark side retorted. “He went off alone with Wendy; he spent more and more time with her, less and less time with you, because he wanted to leave you behind! He thought you were too sweet and young and foolish for his duty, and he was right… He left you because he knew you couldn’t handle the grown-up world! The real world… It is dark and twisted and dangerous, filled with evil men, just like Robbie told you! Dipper left you for this world, and his foray into its clutches destroyed him. He should have stayed with you, growing young and stupid by your side, but he didn’t… And now what will you do, you glittery, girly little fart? You will sit down and you will cry, because bringing him back means following him into that grim world, and you are too cowardly for the task!”

Yes, it was true: only half of the mind was occupied by Mabel’s old self… The other half was something terrible and ugly and foreign… Some part of herself she’d either never noticed or always tried to repress. Where did this other half come from? How did it get into my brain? Why are you here? Why won’t you leave me alone? Help, somebody help! It’s hurting me!

No matter how the fires raged on that battleground, the darkness would not be subdued.

But that whole evening, the light side would not be subdued either. It had been holding aloft that one and singular hope: the hope and that this was all just a weird onset of paranoia. But… But what kind of person was paranoid enough to instantly become certain of a dark truth she couldn’t have known? Even Dipper hadn’t been that bad. Nobody was that paranoid, certainly not sweet, optimistic little Mabel… Certainly not sweet, optimistic, innocent, supportive, carefree, cheery, bubbly, joyous, happy little Mabel… Certainly not I…

Dipper was dead; she knew it but she didn’t know it, and that was the misery she had lived until 7:28 that night. And that was when Melody, the most adult-like adult present, got a call from Ford. She’d listened to the news with a steely frown for some 10 minutes, whispering questions just outside Soos and Mabel’s hearing.

Then she nodded, said something to Soos, and handed the phone to Mabel.

Mabel turned away before she could see Soos’ reaction, then pressed the earpiece to her head, and, in a barely steady voice, demanded of the man on the other end. “He’s dead? He’s dead, isn’t he? Dipper’s dead?”

Ford hadn’t dared to hesitate; she’d waited long enough. “Yes.” He’d said.

She vaguely remembered dropping the phone, then curling up in someplace cold and dark, pulling her head and limbs into her sweater, and crying. Deep inside the impenetrable inner sanctum of Sweatertown, the darkness gained ground. “I was right.” It said. “You are foolish, you are stupid, you are weak, and I was right. Now you are all alone, and there is nobody to help you. Your brother is gone, your uncles are just uncles, your friends are just friends, your Soos is just a Soos, and none of them know you anymore. The Shooting Star burned so bright and beautiful in its time, but a shooting star is just a falling star, and its shine is merely its vaporization. The atmosphere has torn it apart, and now a cracked, rough, beaten, cold shell comes plummeting for the ground; an impact that will surely dash it to pieces… Poor, poor Shooting Star… At last… At long, long last, it’s time for you to become something new…”

Thusly did the sweet, optimistic, innocent, supportive, carefree, cheery, bubbly, joyous, happy little Mabel slowly rot.

Robbie’s words echoed over the blackened, besieged walls of Sweatertown.

“Learn to think dark thoughts, my girl…”

Such thoughts had begun to ooze.

Dan tucked in his shirt and buckled his suspenders, as he glanced tiredly at the clock. He had to leave for work in 15 minutes… He supposed that was long enough to try once more to talk.

So he scooped a couple eggs and some sausage off the stove and onto a plate, and carried them over to his daughter’s sealed door. With one massive fist he knocked once, and waited a minute for the response that never came.

She didn’t want to talk. She never wanted to talk.

So he opened it anyway, and took a timid step within.

She was sitting at her desk, wrapped tightly in a quilt and little else, as seemed to be habit these past few days. Before her, arranged on the table like some kind of ritual, were all those old confounded books… What was she doing?

Whatever it was, she didn’t think it warranted showing to him.

Her back was turned, and there it stayed. Her gaze was forward, and there it stayed, as she flipped page after page, slowly and methodically, scanning from book to book to book to book. Occasionally she scribbled a note or a question or an answer here or there. Sometimes she checked a little chart she’d scribbled on the wall, that seemed to be some kind of code. Sometimes she fact-checked the blue one with the red ones, or the red ones with each other.

Always she was looking. Looking for what? Dan couldn’t guess. Why the sudden interest in books, when she’d never liked them even a little? Dan hadn’t a clue. What strange books were these, that could promise answers among matters of life and death? Dan hesitated to speculate. What did she believe stood to gain by pouring over scribbles all through the late and early hours? It didn’t make much sense to him. But somehow, such folly seemed infinitely important to her. Indeed, by the intensity of her studies, it seems she believed in it… WHY? He wondered again. WHAT IS THERE TO BELIEVE? WHAT IS SHE THINKING? IS SHE HOPING? HOPING FOR WHAT? AND HOW? HOW DOES HOPE FOLLOW FROM A SITUATION LIKE THIS…?

Well… He figured she probably knew a lot more about this than he did. Whatever she was thinking, he hoped to God that she was right.

He set her breakfast down on her bed, to replace her untouched dinner.

But before he left, he decided to try once more.

“…WENDY?”

No response, although her shoulders may have tensed just slightly.

“LOOK, I… I KNOW YOU DON’T WANT TO TALK, BUT… BUT. HMM. YEAH… UH… YOU KNOW, WHEN YOUR MOM DIED--”

“Was it your fault?” Dan saw his own daughter spin on him, wild and aggressive, lashing out like a cornered animal. And for the first time, Dan clearly saw that terrible, ungodly look in her eye. It was a look that shocked Dan, even frightened him into taking a step back, because he recognized it well. He hadn’t seen that look in a long time, and he’d hoped to never see it again. That was the look he saw in the mirror, when he met times of true desperation with all he had left: his anger and his willpower. When her mom died. When her brother had hit his head on a hiking trip. When the sky was red and everyone was gone. This was a look of great import.

“I don’t talk.” Wendy growled. “Because I know what you’re going to say, and I’m not gonna listen. You’re gonna ask me why the dickens I was trying to fly an alien spaceship in the first place. Why I didn’t land it properly, or why I showed enough weakness to need protection from some wimpy kid. You’re gonna tell me none of this had happened if I’d have just gotten a job like a good little girl! If I’d have just forgotten the whole thing! You’re gonna tell me I shouldn’t have tried to do this, and now ‘HEY LOOK SOMEBODY’S DEAD! HEY LOOK, NOW YOU’VE GOT ARS AND YOU SHOULDN’T BE OUT OF BED TILL YOUR BONE MARROW HEALS!’ WELL I KNOW IT, DAD! I darn well know I messed up, but I’ll have you know that we had our own good reasons for going out there, for fighting the fight we did, for flying that ship… We believed—No—We knew that we had to! But this wasn’t the way it was supposed to be! We would have lived…! And… And I don’t need another lecture from you telling me how to live my life… Just… Please, just leave…”

Dan stood there for a minute, shocked to silence.

“And…” Wendy announced. “Frankly dad, today’s the day. I don’t think I’ll find any more answers in these books, so I ain’t gonna stay sitting on my butt for one hour longer. You’re gonna leave for work in… What, 11 minutes? Soon as you do, there’s nothing to stop me. I’m gonna get up and I’m gonna head to town. Firstly to collect some equipment I lost in the crash. Secondly to get some questions answered. Third to buy a new bike, because the robot ate my old one. Forthly to visit the Pines, and tell them the half of the story they haven’t heard yet. Fifthly to just clear my head… I know Ford said to stay in bed, stay in my room, until I’m stronger; well screw him. I’m going, because this is more important. And… And that’s the way it is, so there…”

Her gaze passed off of him, as she turned back to her books.

Dan frowned for a good long time, his brain working to process all of this. He started off angry. Then he got confused. Then he stopped being confused, and he knew what he needed to do.

He could be late for work just once.

“UH…” He finally said, as he turned for the door. “I WON’T HAVE YA WALKIN’ ALL THE WAY TA TOWN IN YER HEALTH. GET YER STUFF TOGETHER, EAT YER BREAKFAST, AND I’LL MEET YA IN THE TRUCK… AND FER THE LOVE OF ALL THAT’S HOLY, PUT ON SOME PANTS! YOU’LL CATCH YER DEATH OF COLD…”

10 minutes later, she locked the front door behind her, and turned for the truck. She’d dressed herself approximately as she usually did: jeans, boots, jacket. But this time, that faded cap with the pine tree seemed more prominent on her head. And she was carrying more than an axe today; the blue journal was tucked in her unbuttoned jacket.

She was dressed for this business. But she wasn’t feeling it. The eggs and meat tumbled in her empty stomach like they didn’t belong. The chill morning air bit harshly though the inside of her stuffy nose. And her knees, of all things, hurt from so many days of sitting. In every inch of her body there lurked these subtle hardships of sickness. They made her feel thin, weak, even small. As if everything in creation, right down to her very flesh, was conspiring to oppress her. As if, in so many subtle ways, fate had made her less than everybody else.

This must be how Dipper feels every day. She realized.

“READY?” Her dad nodded from the cab of his truck.

She took one more deep breath.

Grit.

“Yep.” She nodded.

“KAY.”

Then she looked over and met her dad’s eye.

Honor.

“…I’m sorry I yelled at you.” She told him. “That was outta turn.”

“’SOKAY.”

“…You’re really not mad at me?”

“…THERE’S A LOTTA THINGS I DON’T UNDERSTAND.” He grunted. “BUT AS FER WHAT YER FEELING… THAT I DO GET. AND EVEN I KNOW BETTER THAN TA STAND IN THE WAY OF A CORDUROY WEARIN’ THAT FACE. NOW… WHERE IS IT YA NEED TA GO?”

She stepped up into the passenger seat, and pulled the door shut behind her. “Uh… McGucket’s handling the salvage from the crash, right? Weren’t you driving the tow truck for the cleanup?”

“YEAH. EVERYTHING WE DIDN’T BURY I TOOK TO HIS PLACE.”

“McGucket Manor then.”

“Hey, make it fast up there, Pumpkin.” Grunkle Stan lowered her gently off his shoulders, and gave her a reassuring pat on the shoulder. His rough, cranky old voice was the gentlest he could make it today. “Don’t wanna be around here longer than we have to… Ha ha… Radiation, and, uh… Heh heh… Y’know. All that… Just get your stuff and come right back down.”

In numb compliance, she walked slowly up the familiar creaking stairs, through the room lit red by the triangular window, and finally into the cramped attic space where all her stuff was…

And all his stuff too… She tried not to look at it.

She stopped by a small metal box that was sitting on her bed. And she stared at it for what felt like minutes, while the mighty battle of light vs. dark raged harder than ever in her soul.

Juan was in that box.

The adorable, innocent little robot that Wendy had found in the woods at the start of all this… Mabel had been the one to keep him fed and charged and happy; who had played with him, and kept him safe from the family who would have meant him harm… Somebody mysterious had even saved him from their hands, and then entrusted him to Mabel, knowing that she still loved and cared for the cub…

Hesitantly, Mabel popped the latches on the box, and looked inside.

Juan was still in there.

He’d been in there 4 days now. No electricity. No room to move. No light. No warmth. No mommy. No love.

Very slowly and weakly he looked up at her. His red eyes were glowing almost too dim to make out, and the most he could do with his legs was wiggle them side to side, as if lacking the power output to even stand up. She could tell that he was nearly dead.

“Oh…!” She choked dryly over her words, and her sight got blurry. “Oh, I’m so sorry Juan…” She reached down with her bare hands, and curled them around his tiny chest. He was even thinner and lighter than she remembered, and his legs were covered in what felt like metal shavings. (Robot poop? Gross…)

He didn’t activate his saws, even when her bare hand accidentally touched them. Maybe he didn’t fear her or hate her anymore; or maybe he was just that helpless.

She rushed over to the wall outlet, sat down next to it, and held his head right up to the socket. Soon as the creature recognized what was happening, it extended its hooks and worked them into the plug. Its entire body seemed to shudder for a moment and then relax. His legs wrapped themselves comfortably around her wrist, and the claws gently plucked at her sweater. His tail wiggled in the cutest way possible, and his entire body seemed relieved, even sleepy as he nursed.

Oh, Juan…

Such a sweet thing…

…

It’s all his fault.

If you hadn’t wandered into that bear trap… Your mom wouldn’t have left you for dead. And then Wendy wouldn’t have found you and taken you home. And then your mom wouldn’t have come back looking for you, and hurt Dan… And then Dipper and Wendy wouldn’t have gone on an adventure to find where you came from… And… And then Wendy wouldn’t have flown that spaceship, Dipper wouldn’t have dueled your mom… Your mom wouldn’t have died, and… AND… AND!

AND DIPPER WOULD STILL BE ALIVE!

Very slowly, Mabel watched her hand reach up to settle on the top of Juan’s head. I’m just going to pet him… It’s all right. I’m just petting you Juan… Don’t be afraid. You need to be… Petted…

But she didn’t pet him. As if it had a mind of its own, Mabel’s hand curled its fingers around the sides of Juan’s head. And her other hand reached around to hold his torso steady.

No…

No, I can’t do this. It’s not… It’s not really his fault. He’s just a baby… He… He… He doesn’t deserve it! What am I thinking?!? He’s innocent! I love him! He’s…

He’s guilty.

I hate him.

Mabel’s fingers tightened. In an instant, her wrists flexed, her arms straightened, and she grunted with effort.

With all her strength, she spun Juan’s head around on his body. And she held it at that terrible angle for a second, flexing with all her strength, waiting for some quiet ‘click’ which would indicate his tiny spine had cracked.

But his neck was made of titanium; it didn’t break.

Suddenly, Mabel froze, and realized what she’d just done.

She dropped Juan on the floor with a gasp, and stood up suddenly, staggering back about 5 steps. Juan shook his sore neck and glanced up at her in an accusing way.

Mabel kept retreating until her back touched the wall. That really happened. She realized. She’d just tried to murder an innocent creature. She, Mabel Pines, had really, truly, with all of her might, tried to end the life of an innocent, adorable baby animal, and all for no reason besides anger…

She broke down into uncontrollable tears, jerked the door open, and rushed headlong down the stairs. Stanley noticed her coming, and, guessing wrongly at the source of her distress, reached up a hand to try and stop her. “Hey, woah, woah, it’s okay, Sweety! C’mere, it’s—”

She blubbered something unintelligible that even she didn’t catch, barreled her way past her Grunkle’s embrace, and sprinted for the back door.

Gone, gone, gone…

Dipper was gone… And now Mabel must be gone too… Yes, something must have taken up residence in my brain, because I would surely never have done that… Surely not I…

The battle in her brain raged on, just as ferociously as ever.

And the light side was getting truly desperate. Has the darkness really won? It asked.

The dark side snickered at the protests of the light. I guess we’ll have to see… It taunted.

Beneath the battle in the brain, Mabel’s legs ran and kept running, while the tears streamed down her face. Grunkle Stan may have been running after her, or he may not… It didn’t really matter; she had faster legs than him anyway.

She ran and she ran.

I tried to kill him! The light side of her brain sobbed. Dipper was the only one I could ever trust, and now I can’t even trust myself!

Geez, this is getting sad! The dark side of her brain cringed. You weren’t even strong enough to break that kid’s neck! Dipper wouldhave couldhave done it better… Whatever you think you’re doing, you definitely need help.

Where are you, Dipper?!? Her light side cried out. What can I even do? Where are you to tease me when I’m silly? Where are you to pick me up when I’m stupid? Where are you to put a bandaid on my soul and give me an awkward sibling hug? Dipper… I need you so BAD…

She ran and she ran until she found herself standing all alone, in a small field of yellow grass. All around the field stooped a scraggly grove of Birch Trees, their trunks banded in sheaths of white bark as smooth as eyelids…

Mabel took a deep breath and wiped her tears, as she sank down into the grass.

Dipper… The light side of her brain pleaded. I would do anything in the universe to get you back…

Oh yeah? The dark side asked. …Did you just say ‘anything’, Shooting Star?

She opened her eyes.

And she saw a small stone statue.

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#The Forest Of Daggers #wendip #wendy x dipper #gravity falls #scifi #wendy corduroy #dipper pines #shapeshifter #see you next summer #fanfiction #fanart #alien #robot #ghost #wendipweek

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zonerobotnik · 7 years

Note

35 Mabcifica

35. “Why are you looking at me likethat” - Mabifica-“And so, I told him 'nuh-uh, I knowfashion and this shirt? It's not fashion. I don't know why you sellthis. Besides, this picture was totally stolen from the internet. Iknow the artist'. And he was all 'I just work here, I don't controlthe inventory' and so I—oh, hi, Pacifica!” Mabel looked up fromher conversation with her brother and gave a big smile. “What asurprise, being in the mall at the same time!”“Excuseme.” Dipper got up and grabbed Gideon's hand, pulling him up offhis chair. “We've been rescued, let's go.”“Wait, but Iwanted to--” Gideon looked towards Mabel.“If we don'tleave now, we'll end up listening to her for hours and miss theevent. Come on.” Dipper urged him.“Oh, uh, see youlater.” Gideon waved as Dipper pulled him along.“Wow.What was that about?”Pacifica sat down at one of the only chairs at the table that hadn'tbeen sat in.“I dunno, Dipper's taking Gideon to some nerdevent in the mall. Ever since he showed interest in DDMD, Dipper'sbeen going crazy with the nerd stuff.” Mabel sighed dramatically.“So anyways, how are you doing?”“Oh, I'm doing okay.”Pacifica giggled. “So, I heard you talking about something with ashirt?”“Oh, yeah!” Mabel nodded, shifting in her chairand grinning. “I was in Hot Topic the other day, because theysometimes have the cutestfashions, and a guy came up and asked me if he could help me withanything. So, I told him to show me the fashion-ist shirt they had,and he showed me this kind of ungly thing and said it was the mostpopular item! And so I told him 'nuh-uh, I know fashion and thisshirt? It's not fashion. I don't know why you sell this. Besides,this picture was totally stolen from the internet. I know theartist'. And he was all 'I just work here, I don't control the'--whyare you looking at me like that?” Mabel blinked, noticing Pacificahad a kind of dreamy look on her face.“Oh! I, uh, sorry.You were saying?” Pacifica brushed a strand of hair behind herear.“Uhm...” Mabel looked to the side as if trying toremember before she nodded, looking back at her audience. “Ah,right. And he was all 'I just work here, I don't control theinventory' and so I said 'Well, get the number of the guy who does,this is an outrage'! Then he tried to calm me down and said he wouldgive me the number, but could I please not upset the other customers?And so now I have the number for the corporate and I'm totally gonnacall when I get home, because this is just plain stupid and I have tofix it.”“Are you sure the artist didn't approve of it?”Pacifica asked.“Yeah, I already checked. So, I'm gonna dosomething about it! And buy that shirt on their online store, becauseit looks cute on their shirt design but not on the one Hot Topic isusing.” Mabel nodded.“You're such a good friend.”Pacifica smiled. “A fierce warrior.”“Yep, that's me. Afierce warrior.” Mabel smiled proudly and then sucked on her strawto take a drink.Pacifica blushed a bit as she watched Mabel'slips pucker up around the straw. Mabel was wearing some glittery,pink lipstick today that caught the lights and made them stand outaround the white straw.“Ahhh.” Mabel moved the strawaway. “Nothing like some good ol' root-beer to soothe the throatafter a ramble.” She looked at Pacifica. “Pacifica, are youeating anything?”Pacifica blushed a bit redder. Was Mabel amind-reader? No, she didn't mean it like that, stupid,they were in a cafe area. “I, uh, haven't decided yet.”“Well,do you want me to recommend something?” Mabel turned her head topoint towards one. “I personally like their--”

Pacificagrabbed Mabel's hand and pulled her to face her again, pressing herlips to Mabel's. She was right. Mabel's lips were very soft, and atthe moment they tasted like strawberries. Mabel seemed to freeze inplace and Pacifica was starting to worry that she'd made a bigmistake before she felt Mabel's rings brush against her cheek andMabel pressed into the kiss, deepening it a bit. Then she broke itgently before sitting back down.“Wow, I was wondering whenyou would get around to that. I was starting to wonder if I'd have tomake the first move. Anyways, that place has really good chicken. Orif chicken isn't your fancy...” Mabel pointed to anotherplace.“Mabel?” Pacifica asked, a bitbreathlessly.“Yeah?” Mabel looked at her.“You'renot mad?” Pacifica asked.“No. Well, I guess I am that ittook you two weeks to actually do anything about it, but you've beengiving me dreamy looks and blushing around me a while. You're kind ofan open-book.” Mabel grinned. “It's not a bad thing. Do you wantsome of my soda?” She offered Pacifica a drink,“But,you...do you...feel the same way?” Pacifica asked.“Pacifica,the only reason I didn't kiss you yet is because I didn't want toscare you off. I've been crushing on you since Weirdmageddon.”Mabel said sincerely. “Feel better about kissing menow?”“O-Oh...” Pacifica blushed. “That long? Uh...canwe...do it again?” Mabel smiled and got up, going to standnext to Pacifica. Then she pulled her up from her chair and kissedher deeply. “As many times as you want, babe.” She said withhalf-lidded eyes and a smile.Pacifica felt like she was goingto explode from embarrassment but she didn't hate it at all.End

#gravity falls #mabel pines #pacifica northwest #mabifica #writing prompts #mabel please this is in a public place #rip gideon he's gonna be dragged to so many nerd conventions now #Anonymous

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nataliedanovelist · 4 years

Text

GF - Beauty Within the Fallen ch.V

Summary: Two misfit twins come across an enchanted castle, home of a mysterious beast, and slowly begin to form a strong bond that just might survive through anything. Even evil demons.

AU and artwork belong to the beautiful and very talented @artsycrapfromsai. Go give her some love, guys!!!

ch.IV - ch.VI

~~~~~~~~~~

When the children arrived back with the master of the castle and a pig, Soos was a horrid mess and Wendy took charge. The servants of the castle helped to bring the old beast up to the West Wing and back into his bedroom. The journal watched, uncovered by glass, and listened to the children working together to take care of Stan. Mabel was soft, Dipper was strong, and they were both kind. Once Mabel made sure Stan was comfortable in his bed, Dipper accepted the large supply of bandages and washcloths with hot water and began to work on his injuries. It turned out that Stan had several bad scratches and bites on his back as well as his arm; one bite on his right shoulder was particularly nasty and probably hurt a lot.

All while the boy cleaned the wounds, the beast growled in his throat, almost like purring from an angry cat. He tried to mask his pain, but Mabel sat by his head and held his claw, telling him that if he wanted he could squeeze her hand when he was hurt. Stan gave her a funny look as Mabel petted the back of his paw, feeling the soft texture of his gray fur and smiling. “I can take care of myself.” He growled. “I’ve been doing it this long.” “We know.” Dipper said firmly, free to roll his eyes since Stan’s back was to him. “But we kinda owe you.” “You’re darn right you do.” Stan sneered. “I’ve got a long list of disgusting chores that’ll give my face a run for its money, and it’s got your names on it.” He sighed and added in a softer tone. “Guess it’s not all your fault, though.” Mabel shook her head. “It’s okay, Monsieur Stan, we shouldn’t have come into your room. We’re sorry.” Dipper nodded. “I’ll admit, I suck at knowing when to quit.” Stan snorted a laugh. “Wanna call it even?” “Deal.” Mabel accepted happily and squeezed his paw. As Dipper continued to work, Stan’s tired old body, comforted by the girl’s petting and the boy’s care, started to lose its strength again and he soon fell asleep. Mabel giggled, listening to his deep breathing, and turned to look at the journal. It was closed, so Monsieur Ford had no way to talk if he wanted to. Pitying him, Mabel got down from Stan’s bed and went to the journal. She opened it and sat it on the table, touching as little as she could. Dipper paused bandaging an injury and watched with a skeptical look. “There you go, Monsieur Ford.” Mabel said kindly. Words soon appeared on the page. Thank you, my dear. Thank you so very much for bringing my brother home. “You’re brother?!” Mabel gasped, but then covered her mouth with both hands, afraid of waking Stan, but he was too exhausted to be stirred right now. Yes. The master of this castle, my brother Stanley. “Monsieur Ford,” Dipper said, finished helping Stan, and he walked towards the journal and his sister. “You weren’t always a journal, and Stan wasn’t always a beast, right?” And he looked back at the portrait of the twin boys. That is correct. We were once human, like you, but we were cursed. “S'il vous plaît, Monsieur.” Mabel pleaded. “Will you tell us what happened?” Since you two seem to enjoy stories, I shall. You will have to help me along, reading. Ford’s tone seemed to be warm and inviting. Despite this, Mabel’s face turned red and she rubbed an arm nervously. “I don’t read very good.” “That’s not true, Mabel.” Dipper said quickly and side-hugged her. “Don’t worry, I’ll read out-loud.” I am sure a bright girl like yourself is a fine reader, Mabel. The journal wrote. </i>You remind me so much of Stanley; he too often thought little of his intelligence, but he is way smarter than others (and he) gave him credit for.</i> Mabel smiled, still red, and sat on her knees, looking up at the book. An armchair scurried up to the kids and spoke. “AH! Mi precioso, do not sit on the cold floor! Come, come! Have a seat, both of you, and relax.” Kids, this is Abuelita, as she prefers to be called by everyone. Soos’ grandmother. Ford explained as Mabel sat in the cozy chair. “Thanks!” She said to Abuelita. Dipper joined her with the journal in his hands. He laid the book on their laps and said, “We’re ready, Monsieur Ford.” Very well. Thirty years ago, shortly after our parents’ death, we became entangled in something we shouldn’t have. It was my fault. While Stanley was as strong as five men and more witty than any professor, I excelled academically and held a lot of promise. Father and so many others unfairly showed favor in me and I was ignorant to how it must have hurt my twin. I also felt out of place, alone. Notice the six-fingered hand on the cover; as a human I have six fingers on each hand. As a child I was bullied and made fun of, but Stanley was always there and told me it made me special. It became my mark as I began to investigate the strange mysteries of the woods and the wonders of the world. Intrigued, I soon met a golden triangle with one eye and formal attire. When the words slowly disappeared, they were replaced with a drawing. The kids looked to indeed find a triangle with a top hat and a bowtie and a cane, having only one eye and two stick arms and two stick legs. Bill Cipher. A dangerous demon of nightmares and a master of the mind. Ford went on. I was a fool, blinded by his flattery and games. I was falling down a very deep hole, but I was lucky to have Stanley there, like always, and he managed to con the ultimate conman. This angered Bill, and as revenge he cursed us. “How?” Dipper asked. “What exactly did he do to you?” He turned Stanley into a beast and me into a journal, and all of the servants turned as well, as we are now. I cannot walk or talk like the staff can, only communicate through writing, and I slowly lose my pages. With each page, I lose part of my memory and a part of myself. When the last page falls, I will be nothing more than an empty shell, and everyone will remain cursed forever. “This story's so sad!” Mabel exclaimed. “There’s gotta be a way to get a happy ending!” “Mabel’s right,” Dipper said. “Is there a way to undo the curse?” The journal was blank for a moment, but then these words seeped onto the page: After he cursed us, Bill only said that when Stanley loves someone and earns their love in return can the curse be undone. Mabel lit up. “Love? We can help! There’s tons of cute single ladies in our village who would love to go out with a nice, smart, strong guy like Stan!” “I dunno, Mabel,” Dipper said hesitantly. “Everyone in our town thinks we’re weirdos and make fun of us. How do you think they’ll react to Stan?” “But once they got to know him…” Your people think you are weird? The journal wrote. How come? Dipper crossed his arms over his chest. “They think we’re ‘odd’ because Mabel’s learning how to read, I don’t wanna join the army, and we like to invent things.” They make fun of you over that? I’m sorry. I think reading and inventing is no reason to be made fun of, nor is a lack in desire to fight. “Oh, I still wanna learn how to fight, I just don’t wanna be anyone’s tool.” Dipper then suddenly turned bright red. “No offense.” Ford, however, quivered ever so slightly and big capital letters spilled over the page. HAHAHAHAHA! No offense taken, my boy! Holy Moses, I haven’t… well, I wouldn’t call that laughing, but thank you for making me almost laugh for the first time in thirty years. “Thirty years.” Mabel repeated with a small moan. “Don’t you worry, Monsieur Ford, we’ll help Stan fall in love so everyone will be free.” It is not for you to worry about. “Yes it is!” Mabel insisted. “You’re our friends. We wanna help you.” “Yeah, man,” Dipper said, actually gradually siding with Mabel on this one. “Once Fiddleford finds this place we’ll go home and help find someone for Stan.” “He’s a great guy,” Mabel said. “And I’m the best matchmaker in the world! I bet together we can end this curse and kick Bill’s butt!” “Mabel,” Dipper hushed as she became overly passionate and was a bit too loud. Your enthusiasm is greatly appreciated and valued, kids, but do not fret over it. We have time. “How much time?” Dipper asked, eyeing how many pages Ford had. If I absolutely had to make a guess of how long we have left… ten years. “Oh.” Dipper said, freed from the sense of urgency. He yawned into his hand. “Still, we’ll do what we can for you guys.” The journal was blank again, like he was doing some thinking, but then he wrote, Thank you, again, but now is not the time to worry about all that. You two should get to bed. It’s late. Mabel shook her head. “Nuh, uh. What if Stan needs our help with his boo-boos? We’ll just have a sleepover right here, won’t we, Abuelita?” “Si, niña.” The armchair said and used her unusual arms to throw a blanket over the twins. Dipper took off his hat, finding Abuelita quite comfortable, and he wrapped an arm around his sister. After the scare he had earlier, he had to admit he liked the idea of sleeping by her side tonight. “Good idea, sis.” “I’m full of good ideas.” Mabel joked. “G’night, Monsieur Ford.” Goodnight, Dipper and Mabel. Sweet dreams. Mabel hugged Dipper around his waist, his arm still around her, and she smiled as she closed her eyes. She could hear his heartbeat. It was faster than it should be for sleep. Knowing just what to do, she began to quietly sing a lullaby. “Days in the sun, though your life has barely begun, not until my own life is done will I ever leave you.” Dipper chuckled, remembering the song Fiddleford and Shermie used to sing, and he muttered sleepily, “Oh, I’ll tremble again to my dear one's gorgeous refrain. You will not forever remain out of reach of my arms.” His eyes, which had been open, found Ford’s open pages spilling a poem missing it’s tune. All those days in the sun, What I'd give to give you them all, All to my love, And sing out my call. “You know that song?” Dipper asked and Mabel opened her eyes to find it on Ford’s pages. Our mother used to sing it to us when we were children, every night. Please, continue and ignore me. “You should sleep, too, Monsieur Ford.” Mabel said sleepily. She took the journal in her arms, hugged the closed book, and held him as she leaned on her brother. Ford didn’t get a chance to explain that he did not sleep, but as he could ghostly feel the girl’s warmth, he was beyond happy to be in her embrace for the night. Dipper smiled, gave Mabel a squeeze, and closed his eyes for sleep as he uttered under his breath. “Days in the sun will return, we must believe. As lovers do, that days in the sun will come shining through.” ~~~~~~~~~~ Despite the wolves, despite the darkness, despite the freezing cold and the falling snow, Fiddleford trudged on. He held his casted, broken arm close to his chest for warmth, crushing a few inches of snow with his boots. The snow was coming down hard, blinding him and making it feel like a hundred tiny knives were cutting his face, but he forced himself to keep going. The idea of his children somewhere in this snow terrified him. “Dipper!” He called out. “Mabel!” Fiddleford brought his scarf up to his nose so his breath would warm the bottom-half of his face. The familiar scents of family and love came to his schnoz. Mabel had knitted him this green scarf. In fact, she knitted him his sweater and gloves, too, but this scarf, tangled and elementary, had been Mabel’s first scarf and once Shermie’s, but when he died and left it back to Mabel, she insisted that Fiddleford have it. Every time Fiddleford went to Paris to sell the clocks and music boxes in the past, he always asked the twins what they wanted, as a way to help handle his absence better. Every time, Dipper asked for a book everyone would want to hear him read and Mabel hesitantly asked for yarn. Yarn was usually very expensive, and she knew that, but she had a raw talent for knitting and sewing. No one had taught her how to knit or sew, but the minute the materials were in her hands, as young as four, she knew what to do. She was amazing like that. Better yet, with her gift of yarn, if lucky enough to have some, she always made clothes for others before herself, knitting Dipper, Fiddleford, and Shermie sweaters and gloves and scarfs and hats to keep them warm during long winters. The first time she surprised Fiddleford with a blue sweater, she smiled at him and said, “Now you can have me wherever you go.” Fiddleford wiped his eyes dry; he couldn’t afford to cry, his tears would freeze on his face. Mabel needed him, Dipper needed him, so he continued to call out their names as the rest of the village searched behind him, much slower than the old man. ~~~~~~~~~~ Stan woke up to the sound of giggling. He opened his eyes, facing the window and Ford’s table, and he found Mabel standing there with a quill in her hand and playing tic-tac-toe with Ford. She was Xs and Ford was Os. Most of the time Mabel won, but occasionally (whether to keep her humble or because Brainiac couldn’t help himself) Ford would win, but Mabel seemed just as delighted by Ford’s wins as her own. “Yay! Good job, Monsieur Ford! Okay, you go first.” Stan smiled and slowly sat up. Dipper was by his side and smiled. “Morning, Stan. How are you feeling?” “M’fine, kid.” Stan said, popping his old back and stretching his arms. He ruffled his fur loose and gave the boy an impressed smile. “Good job fixin’ me up, I feel good as new.” “Thanks.” Dipper said. “Monsieur Stan!” Mabel called, turning away from her game with Ford for a moment. “Did you see?! IT SNOWED! We should all play outside!” “C’mon, Mabel,” Dipper said easily. “Stan’s just a hurt old man, he should take it easy.” And he gave the beast a smirk. “Old man?!” Stan barked and stood tall and strong. “That’s it, you just earned yourself a huge snowball to the face!” “And don’t worry, Monsieur Ford,” Mabel said, setting her quill down and scooting the table with Ford on it closer to the window. “This way you can watch us. If you want to.” Thank you, Mabel. The words read. Waddles oinked happily and showed his belly to Stan, lying on the floor. He glared at the animal. “And what is that?” “That’s my pet pig, Waddles!” Mabel joyfully introduced. “He found us in the woods last night.” “No,” Stan said firmly and shook his head. “No pigs allowed in this castle. They’re nothing but fat, naked jerks.” “Aw, come on,” The girl cooed and hugged her pig with big brown eyes. “Just for a few days?” Stan winced. Sacrebleu, that girl was just very manipulated. He ignored the painful reminder that the kids were only here for a little while and growled, “Fine, just make sure he doesn’t eat any of Sixer’s pages or I’m eating him for lunch.” “Don’t worry, we keep books around him all the time.” Dipper said as he petted the pig’s head. “He knows not to bother them.” Dipper and Mabel dragged Stan out by his paws and for the outdoors. Waddles climbed up on Abuelita the armchair and curled up for a nap. The kids admired the beautiful garden covered in the late autumn snow. A soft blanket coated the whole world, fluffy but not delicate. Everyone was warmly dressed and ready to play. The twins took in deep breaths and then slowly counted to three. On three, they simultaneously jumped off the short balcony and landed on their faces. Stan watched, confused, but then they both rolled on their fronts and laughed, their breath visible, and they began to make snowangels on the ground. “Come on, Stan!” Mabel called. “Yeah, c’mon, man!” Dipper shouted happily. Stan smiled mischievously, took a step back, and then launched himself into the air. He landed with his beefy arms over each kid and his head in the middle, and when he turned on his back with the kids in his hold, all three were laughing like mad. Mabel swiftly made a snowball and threw it at Dipper’s face. He scrambled up after his running sister and threw one at her. Stan sat in the snow, watching the kids play, throwing snowballs at each other and running around the yard. His tail wagged against the sparkling snow. Dipper threw one and Mabel ran around Stan, resorting to the ball hitting him right in the face. Stan shook the snow out of his eyes as Mabel laughed and Dipper paled, but wearing a kind smirk on his face, Stan gathered a snowball in his paw and threw it at Dipper, who was hit in the chest and ran. Stan scurried to his feet and ran around with the kids, throwing slightly bigger snowballs that the kids enjoyed. Stan soon made a huge snowball with his strong arms, the ball almost as big as one child, but when Mabel threw one at Stan’s face he accidentally dropped the huge ball that was held over his head and he was covered in snow. Dipper and Mabel laughed so hard they had no choice but to stop running, leaning on each other for support. Stan found their laugh more contagious than the plague and roared with joy as he shook off the snow like a dog on all fours. Mabel ran into his arms and Dipper soon followed, hugging him to warm him up and apologize without words for winning the war. Stan was surprised by their desire to hug him, but he hugged them back gently and rubbed their backs, finding their clothes soaked. “Alright, gremlins, let’s get you dry and warm.” Stan said and picked them up to go back into the castle. “We can play again later.” “Okay,” Mabel cooed as she snuggled against Stan’s chest, holding onto his gray fur. “Hm, you’re so warm.” Stan’s own face suddenly felt a little warmer. “Yeah, well, there’s some benefits to being a big ugly monster, I guess.” That didn’t sit right with the twins. From each of his arms, they exchanged looks, but an idea came to Dipper that distracted him from Stan’s comment. “Hey, can we read with Ford while we dry off? He says he’s got lots of great stories to tell.” Stan smiled down at him. “You like him, don’t you?” “Yeah, he’s pretty cool.” Dipper said, glancing away. “I thought you would. You’re both nerds.” Stan teased. Dipper shrugged in a whatcha-gonna-do-about-it style. Mabel hopped down and said, “I’ll go get him so we can read together!” And she ran up the stairs. Dipper got down from Stan’s hold, too, and was about to go to the living room, but Stan spoke and stopped him in his tracks. “Kid, wait. You really like books, right?” Dipper turned and responded with a dip of his head. “Yeah, I do. I was pretty much the only one that read the library in town, and by library I mean one bookshelf.” Stan waved a paw towards himself. “Follow me. I got something for you.” Dipper casually followed Stan down a hallway and they stopped at the double doors. The beast turned to the boy and gave him a cunning smile. “Ah, ah. Close your eyes.” Dipper crossed his arms over his chest and sneered at him with a smile. “Is this a prank?” “No, just do it.” Stan chuckled. “It’s a surprise.” Dipper gave in and closed his eyes. After testing that he truly was blind by waving a paw in front of his face, Stan opened the doors and put a hand on his back to help him walk. “Okay, okay, here we go… okay, stop.” “Can I see?” “Hold it, squirt, gimme a sec.” Stan hurried to pull back curtains and brighten the room. Candles magically came to life. “Okay, okay… open ‘em up!” Dipper opened his eyes, blinked to adjust to the newfound light, and then his jaw dropped. Towering over him, a room arguably bigger than the ballroom held thousands if not hundreds of thousands of books. Rich mahogany desks sat filled with parchment and quills and ink, globes and atlas took up some desk space, but Dipper couldn’t tear his eyes away from all of the books. Stairways and ladders could reach the books up at the very top and giant windows seeped in beautiful sunlight to ease the eyes. “Shut. Up.” Dipper said hoarsely. “I’ve never seen so many books! Look at this place!” He went to a bookshelf and gently ran a hand over the dozens of spines exposed to him. “You like it?” Stan asked, leaning by the door with his arms crossed over his chest. “I love it!” “Then it’s all yours.” Dipper’s jaw was nearly on the floor when he turned to look at the master of the castle. “You really mean it?” “Sure do, Smart Guy.” Stan smiled at him. “Go nuts.” Dipper, trembling, ran to a shelf and began to pick books to read. Mabel came in, carrying Ford carefully like he was a baby, and she gasped joyfully. “Wowie, zowie! A whole library!” She gave Ford to Stan to hold and joined her brother, helping him by holding his stack of books. Stan smiled and opened Ford to talk to him. Immediately words appeared before him. That was ingenious, Stanley. Dipper will surely make good use out of the library. “Thanks, Sixer.” Stan watched the kids from across the vast room, his smile dropping. As a twin, he knew that it was rare to have something done only for you and not you and your twin. He wanted to do something special for each of them, but each of them separately. The library was Dipper’s, though Mabel was free to use it since she obviously liked stories (Stan noticed that Dipper liked “books” and Mabel liked “stories”), but she needed something of her own. “I wanna do something for Mabel.” He whispered. “But I know nothing about what girls like. Make-up? Dolls?” My knowledge on girls is also very limited. Ford admitted. But I do know that you should consider something that sparks her interests and not something exclusively femanine. You didn’t give Dipper a gun or a sword. Stan shrugged. “Okay, good point. So, what? What does Mabel like?” Well, I can recall her saying this morning that she loves sweaters. When I asked her about it, she said she loves to knit but could rarely afford the yarn. “That’s it!” Stan closed Ford gently and held him against his chest one-armed. “Mabel, sweetie, can you come with me? I got something for you, too.” Mabel shoved the twenty-plus books in her brother’s arms and ran up to Stan. He smiled at her huge grin and walked with her down the hall. He led her to a single door. Mabel instantly took off her pink headband and tied it over her eyes so she wouldn’t be tempted to peek. “I wanna be surprised!” She squealed. Stan chuckled. “Give me your hand, kid.” Mabel did and Stan led her into the room. He opened a curtain and let go of the girl’s little hand. “Alright, you can look now.” Mabel pulled her blindfold down onto her neck and she gasped so big her lungs filled quickly. It was like a grand supply closet. There was a wall full of rolls of different patterns of fabric and silk, figurines to make clothes on, drawers full of supplies, desks full of paints and canvases and brushes, and an odd shelf of some kind, squares that held bundles of yarn, all in rainbow order. What was better yet, this room may have been only twenty feet wide, but it was forty feet tall, like a tower, and a rolling ladder helped to reach the higher fabrics and yarns. A window as tall as the room let in bright sunlight to make crafting easy. “OH MY GOSH!” Mabel cried out and looked around the room. “It’s like arts-n’-crafts heaven!” “It was Ma’s room.” Stan shared as he chuckled over Mabel’s joy. “She used to come down here and spend hours painting and drawing and making clothes. Pa used to get on her case about it. Said she didn't give the seamstresses enough to do.” “Your dad sounds like a stupid jerk.” Mabel added quickly before resuming her cheerful attitude. “This is wonderful! I love it! LOOK at all the COLORS!” “If you like it so much, then it’s yours.” Stan said. Mabel turned and Stan was clutched to find her crying. Well, not really crying, but there were tears in her eyes and one escaped each eye, rolling down her cheeks. “THANKYOUTHANKYOUTHANKYOU!” Mabel cheered and ran to him. One arm busy holding Ford, Stan fell on his butt by the impact of the girl and she hugged him around his big neck, nuzzling her face into his fur. He stared ahead in astonishment and wrapped an arm around her, petting her soft brown hair and admiring her warmth. Too soon she skipped away and climbed up the ladder for some red yarn. “I’m gonna make you a sweater first! Then I’ll make Ford one, a little book-holder to keep him warm.” “I don’t think he really gets cold anymore.” Stan said as he stood again. “Well then, I’ll go ahead and make him a sweater to wear when he’s human again.” Mabel reasoned. Stan was distracted by that statement. When he was human again. When they were human again. He had lost all hope for so long of someone ever loving him that it seemed foolish to think of the curse ever being broken, but Mabel and Dipper seemed to like him, and Ford probably loved him (for some odd reason) so maybe it was possible for him to find a beautiful mademoiselle to love and have her love him back. Stan shook his train of thought away as Dipper now joined them, six books stacked in his arms and making his limbs quiver, but he didn’t seem to care. “Mabel, what’s… whoa-oh!” Dipper awed at the room. “No way! Cool art supplies.” “Thanks!” Mabel said and climbed down with red and orange yarn in her arms and she opened a drawer full of different size knitting needles and pulled out a pair she liked. “Wanna read to us by the fire?” “Sure.” In the lounge, Stan sat in front of the huge fireplace, making plenty of room for Ford to be safe. Dipper and Mabel sat in his lap, the boy at his left and the girl at his right, and Dipper opened Ford and the journal began to tell a story. Dipper read the words out-loud, occasionally having Mabel give reading a try, only needing assistance a handful of times for bigger words, but Ford seemed to purposely use smaller words when it was her turn to read. Stan, without realizing it, was purring. The children noticed, but said nothing. Mabel nuzzled closer to him, grateful for his large body and fluffy gray fur. She thought he was wonderful in every aspect and Dipper full-heartedly agreed. The biggest mystery of them all was how Dipper didn’t see this all before.

~~~~~~~~~~

Author’s Note: This… this is where, in my humble opinion, the story actually becomes worth reading. I feel like the patience we, the audience, must have with the BatB story - seeing the Beast as he is before his change of heart, seeing Belle run away and all the obstacles before them both - make the bonding scenes even better. Gives a FINALLY sort of feeling. I wanted to carry that over here, making the beginning a little slow (though I probably lost some readers that way), but making it even more rewarding for those who read on. Or maybe I’m just making an excuse for a suck-ish beginning. Who knows. Okay, so Waddles NOT being a footstool is so that it ties in more to the canon GF storyline. I didn’t want Waddles to be some pet Stan didn’t like and only tolerated for someone else’s sake or a farm-animal that was at the wrong place at the wrong time. Rather, I had him always be Mabel’s and I also left him at home in the beginning to better parallel the show’s canon (even though Waddles is in the intro, he isn’t introduced until S1E9). I also, mainly, just really wanted Stan to only allow Waddles in the castle to make Mabel happy, cuz Imma sap that’s why. Moving on, I put both Days in the Sun and a hint of Something There at the end. When writing the snow scene, I listened to Wolf Children’s Snow soundtrack; I personally thought it fit so well. Not much else to say except Mabel’s craft-room is my idea and I love love LOVE the library scene (both in this fic and in the animated BatB movie; the live-action movie RUINED the scene!) Thank you so much for reading, and I hope y’all enjoy it!

#GF #gravity falls #ford pines #stan pines #mabel pines #dipper pines #beauty within the fallen #fanfiction #love #snow #wolf children #library #gotta love some stan twins angst #BONDING #okay but seriously HUGE thanks to everyone who's been supporting this #thank you so so much to every who's been following and leaving nice comments #love y'all!

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