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incomingalbatross · 4 months

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Five times Stan saw Ford in Dipper

(and one time he saw somebody else)

To be honest, Stan didn't think there was that much to see, at first. Sure, Shermie had said more than once how much the kids reminded him of Stan and Ford, but Shermie remembered them as a pair of gremlins under his feet. Of course another little pair would bring back those memories. Stan...remembered Ford as his own size, so it didn't work the same way for him. And Dipper, with his snark and his cynicism and his general attitude, was a fun little pain-in-the-neck, but not much like Stan's brother at that age. On the other hand... finding him glued to the Used To Be About History Channel and taking notes within his first few days at the Shack brought back some memories.

Yeah, okay, so Stan felt a little bad brushing off Dipper's rants about wax murderers, or old-timey conspiracies, or living arcade characters, or whatever the kid had tracked down this week. So maybe that burning enthusiasm in his eyes when he tried to convince everyone around him to care about the world's weirdness was a little familiar. It was fine. The kid had Mabel glued to his side (sometimes literally, after crafting accidents). And the kids had friends! Wendy and Soos and... Mabel's girl-posse... and honestly most of Gravity Falls, it seemed like, had their backs. Dipper didn't need his Grunkle's validation.

And then the whole Wendy musical-mind-control debacle came up, and that one Stan did jump into with both feet because hey, that wasn't Gravity Falls-level Weird, right? This was something he could admit he found plausible. Probably. And Mabel was obsessing over her boy band and Soos was out, and he liked Wendy and hated Robbie and somebody had to back Dipper up on this. Even if the kid was wrong, Stan could handle plain old Girl Problems. And... and it was kinda fun, maybe. Backing up the kid on one of his conspiracy projects. It wasn't exactly a Ford thing, because Ford didn't have friends who were girls, let alone get close enough to a girl to have her "stolen" from him. But supporting Dipper through the rejection part, after, reminding him he wasn't alone... that was maybe more familiar than he realized. Until Dipper looked up with a grateful, almost-shy little smile of appreciation at the reassurance, and Stan had to stop for a split second because Oh. Holy Moses. There he could see Sixer.

Things had gotten better, in some ways, since the zombie thing. He and the kids weren't hiding any of the general weirdness from each other, so he didn't have to pretend not to listen to stories about tiny golf-people or infinite pizza. He could do crazy things with them, even. That was fun! It was refreshing. The family that fights monsters together stays together, or...something. On the other hand, he was still hiding other stuff from the kids, and it got more important every day. And he was pretty sure they were still hiding Other Stuff from him, too. Which made it kind of a race. And it also meant that even while he was seeing more Pines in both kids than ever, in good ways, he was also seeing Dipper staying up all night and muttering into his Journal and wandering around with bags under his eyes that you could use to smuggle contraband. The stubbornness? The refusal to let go? That, Stan could relate to. The obsession and the twitchiness and the occasional haunted look, though... He'd really never wanted to see that Ford when he looked at Dipper.

Good news! Dipper's paranoia and skittishness had, in fact, gone way down since he'd met Ford and heard the full explanation of Stan's secrets. Bad news: It felt like everything Stan saw when he looked at Dipper nowadays was some kind of funhouse mirror of Ford, like all they were was the same person - the science, the schemes, the nerd games, the enthusiasm, just two brains on the same wavelength forever and ever - and that wasn't right, was it? Stan wasn't crazy, right, Dipper hadn't always been a total mini-Ford, so why did it seem that way now? It felt wrong. Felt unfair, somewhere, to somebody. But Stan couldn't pin down anything concrete in Dipper that wasn't in Ford - this Ford, anyway, and this Dipper. Maybe he was going nuts. Or maybe he hadn't known either of them quite as well as he thought he had.

+1:

"Hey, Grunkle Stan?"

"Yeah, what's up, kid?"

Dipper looks hesitant. "I... had a question. But it's okay if you don't remember the answer."

"Eh, lay it on me," Stan shrugs. It's near sunset, out here on the porch. Ford and Mabel are in the kitchen - he might have heard something about refining the Mabel Juice formula, but that's terrifying, so he's not gonna think too hard about it. They'll be out soon anyway, or he and Dipper'll head inside, and then they can check on any potential abominations.

"When... Okay. You know we were in your head, right? Before Gideon took the Shack?"

Stan squints. That was... yeah, that was a weird memory, but it was there. "Yeah."

"Okay, cool! We, uh. Never actually talked about that, so good to know. Anyway." Dipper takes a deep breath. "I sorta saw some memories when we were in there, but obviously you were still hiding some big childhood stuff then, so I was wondering now..." He fidgets. "Were you really a wimp as a little kid before you started boxing? Was all that true?"

Stan looks down at him, blinking. Dipper's head is ducked, face hidden by his cap. This matters to him, for some reason.

"...Well, yeah," he admits. With a laugh, he hurries to add, "I know I seem like I must've been born this awesome, but turns out, no! I was a pretty wimpy little kid to start out. 'Course, then I figured out punching meant I could take out anyone who looked at me and Ford funny - still, took a while to get good at it, even then. So yeah, there's your Grunkle Stan's deep dark secret, kiddo: he started out as a bona fide weakling." He flicks up the kid's hat brim, still a little nervous about why he even cares -

And Dipper looks up, beaming at Stan. He's bright-eyed and happy, and he says quietly, as if he's just been given a present, "Kinda like me."

Oh.

Okay then.

Stan squishes Dipper into his side with one arm before the kid can comment on all the dust that's suddenly in Stan's eyes. "Like you were, maybe," he corrects him gruffly, knuckles rubbing into his hat. "I think you're comin' along pretty good, you know that?"

Dipper, squirming and laughing, shamelessly hugs him back. "I hope so," he says, apparently because this is Honesty Hour. "I guess - I guess if you didn't start out awesome, there's hope for all of us, right?" And it's probably still the laughter that's making the kid's breath hitch but - either way, Stan realizes he means it.

Seeing Ford in Dipper was just a thing that happened. It's probably never gonna stop happening - they're nerds, and they're family, and they're Stan's family, of course he's gonna see when they echo each other. He knows - he's always known - that they're alike, and also that they're two different people, and that he likes them that way.

But it's maybe been a while since he looked head-on at the moments when he can look at Dipper

(snarky, sarcastic, always ready to mouth off, latching on to every friend he made, stubborn, scrappy, insecure, throwing himself like instinct between his family and anyone who looked at them funny)

and see, uh, well. Somebody. Who isn't Ford.

And getting faced with the idea of Dipper apparently... a little bit... looking for himself in that-somebody-who-isn't-Ford?

These kids are gonna give Stan a heart attack in the few days left between now and their birthday. Seriously. It's gonna happen.

"Shut up, squirt," he sniffs for now, and decides to stop pretending this isn't a hug. "Didja not hear me the first time?" Months ago, inside his own head - yeah, okay, so he could probably stand to say it to the kid's face. "I'm already proud of you."

#my stan & dipper feelings have compelled me #i can't decide where to put the readmore blargh #gravity falls

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asterkiss · 5 months

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Dating Profile

Mabel "helps" Bill set up an online dating profile. Hastily written random thing.

It stared with Wendy asking the girls to assist in scoping out the matches on her dating app. The redhead got a lot of matches and after connecting her phone up to the television in her room she, Mabel, Candy and Grenda all sat around eating popcorn as they metacilously reviewed and carried out judgement on each match.

'Ooh, he has nice eyes, you should totally date him!' Mabel gushed.

Wendy made a face. 'He has a furry costume on in his third pic.'

'At least you know he likes animals!' Candy qupped in.

The older girl glanced amidst the trio of eager faces and offered a slightly strained smile. Maybe asking these three to help her pick out guys hadn't been the best idea but she'd been eager to hang out after coming back from college for the Summer. 'Let's uh... put him down as a maybe and move on.'

'Maybe we should make dating profiles,' Grenda suggested.

'Don't you have to be eighteen?' Candy asked. All three of them were a few years shy of that still.

'Ooh, we could make one for Grunkle Stan!' Mabel cried, clasping her hands together. In that moment her phone began going off, playing an upbeat boy band tune. She picked it up only to groan.

'Bill?' Wendy asked.

Mabel nodded. 'Bill.' With a shrug she hit ignore and put it back down on silent.

And then Candy had a fiendish idea.

'Hey girls, why don't we make a dating profile for Bill?'

There was a pause. An exchange of glances. An arched eyebrow and thoughful hum.

Then the real fun began.

'What do we put down for his age?' Grenda asked, the group of girls huddled around Wendy's computer.

They'd made a start on the profile. Mabel had a few snapshot pics of Bill she had managed to load up, namely Bill laughing manically as he set off fireworks inside the diner whilst several blurry diners in the background ran out screaming.

'He's like a billion years old, right?' Wendy drawled. Though the demon still acted like a petulent child or rowdy teenager at times. He didn't didn't come across as a mature adult.

'Let's stick with twenty,' Mabel said, keying in the same age Grunkle Stan had put down on his fake ID. 'Done. Hobbies?'

'Making children cry and kicking puppies,' Wendy said.

Mabel elbowed the older girl. 'He's gotten a little better! It's been like eight months since he made a kid cry.'

'Uh huh.'

'Let's say he likes poetry and reading young romance novels, that'll get him tones of matches!' Grenda insisted.

'You're gonna end up tossing some innocent chick to the wolf if you do that,' Wendy said. 'At least make the profile honest.'

'Hm, does it have to be a "chick" though?' Candy asked abruptly, looking thoughtful as she hovered over the "orientation" section of the profile. 'Why not a handsome man, as well? Why not anyone?'

'Oh my...' Grenda said.

'I'm pretty sure gender doesn't matter to him since he's a demon,' Mabel mused aloud.

'Pansexual, it is,' Candy decided.

Wendy looked on as the three girls really got into it, smiling wryly. 'This is gonna end so badly.' She made no move to stop them.

A week later Bill was set up on a date with a biker named Greg. Mabel invited Bill out on the pretense of them hanging out together, but it wasn't her waiting at the diner. Oh no. It was the dashing young man Gregory.

Mabel sat in the bushes opposite the diner, binoculars held to her face as the three girls watched the scene play out through the diner window. Bill's date had just appeared, confusion spreading across the demon's face at the strangers arrival before he received a text message from herself wishing him luck. She watched Bill's face shift as he read the text before he snapped his head up and glared right at her.

Eep.

She ducked down, dragging the two girls with her.

'Do you think he saw us?' Candy whispered.

Maybe just a bit.

'What the heck is this profile?' Bill snapped, looking through the thing. 'It's not accurate at all! Why isn't manipulating humans and sording discord listed in my hobbies?'

'Well, we kinda thought that might scare potential suitors away,' Mabel said sheepishly. 'But look! We did mention you dislike tickling! And hey, you got so many matches! You're super popular with the guys.'

He sent her a withering glare. 'I don't need some stupid dating app to get a date. I'm Bill Cipher, I've been tricking humans into stupid descision for thousands of years!'

Mabel laughed again. Well, if this was as far as his reaction went she got off pretty lightly.

At least, that's what she thought.

'Anyway, since you had so much fun with this, I went to the trouble of making a dating profile for you as well, kid.'

She blinked. 'You did?' A pause and the teenager leaned in with an intense gaze. 'Did I get any matches? How many? Are they cute?'

'Just the one.' Bill held up her phone that he had apparently borrowed, and Mabel's smile froze at what was displayed. Uh. Her gaze flickered back up to his, where he was watching her with a predatory smile.

'Your first date's in two hours, better go get ready. I've heard this guy doesn't like being late.'

The demon brushed past, dropping the phone into her hands as he left her alone. Mabel stared down at the phone, eyes wide and heart thudding rapidly against her chest.

Oh boy.

Matching with Bill Cipher could not end well, right?

#drabble #mabill

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messinwitheddie · 7 months

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Kimber "There's a lady bug?! Aw! She's so stylish. Is she's one of Zim's reinforcements too?"

Dib "No, she hates Zim. They operate seperately, but she is another invader."

Kimber "That's counterproductive. They should hug it out and team up"

Dipper "Probably better for us in the long run if they don't."

Dib "I've been able to translate some data about Irken biology, their language and their homeworld from Tak-er- Tak's ship, but she's not very cooperative to put it politely."

Mabel "Well, a girl's body and downloaded personality interface is her own dominion."

Kimber "That's right, baby doll."

Eben "I spent many a night UFO watching when I was but a lad, but I've never seen a ship quite like a--?"

Dipper "Voot Runner."

Dib "That's the name of Zim's ship. I don't know the name of Tak's ship model to be honest. She has her schematics hidden behind a BITCH of a security wall. It took months to get her airborne after she crashed."

Eben "And she's parked in your old man's garage?"

Dib "I'll let you look at the ship up close when you visit on spring break next year."

Dipper "Dude, I can't wait."

Eben "I would have given my left nut to try to hack into an alien ship at your age."

Kimber "Eben!"

Eben "It's the truth, babe. These two, never would have happened. If you boys feel ambitious, capture the recon bot."

Dipper "The SIR unit?"

Mabel "He has a name... I forgot it."

Dib "Gir."

Eben "Yeah, Gir; capture Gir and bring to me. We'll reverse engineer him, collect all the useful data he has stored. Then I'll drill four chambers in his head and turn him into a hookah."

Dipper "Dad, come on. This is serious."

Dib "Zim would HATE that. We're totally doing that. We would have to sanatize Gir though; that thing is a garbage disposal."

Dipper "Okay, the more I think about it, the more awesome that sounds."

Eben "It would make a handsome father's day gift, that's all I'm saying. When you all graduate high school, we'll all take a toke together."

Kimber "Don't you dare hurt Zim's little recon buddy."

Eben "He's a robot! I'm not going to hurt him, just modify him."

Mabel "What if he doesn't want to be a hookah? And what if stealing his data makes him feel like a failure because he let Zim down?"

Kimber "You didn't think of that, did you?"

Dipper "He's a robot, you can't hurt him or his feelings."

Mabel "But he's an advanced alien ai bot. And he's cute."

Dib "Advanced is a generous word for Gir."

Kimber "Don't be mean to Zim or his robot. He'll go back to his home planet and tell everyone what horrible people we are."

Eben "He's probably done that already."

(Conversation starts to sound like distant static)

Dipper "Dib?... Hey man, are you okay?"

[A continuation of this post.

This is the point where this whole flashback starts to take a turn for the angst--

When Dib realizes his best friend's dad shows far more interest and support for his paranormal studies than his own dad ever has or will.]

#invader zim #gravity falls #crossover #dib #dipper #mabel #the pines family

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thereareeyesinsidethetrees · 7 months

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Making a playlist for my fangame/AU for you to try and analyze because i think it'd be v interesting to see! Also i will totally take you up on the offer to ramble about AU's if it's still available,,,

okay, let's see how close and/or far i get

starting with the songs i know:

Come Along by Cosmo Sheldrake. now i've never actually looked up the lyrics of this one (just been guessing at them which. i often mess up with), but according to the ~internet~ it's meant to be a sort of invitation away from real life's static-ness, to instead live with a bit of whimsy. one source also says it's also about "embracing the present and cherishing life's fleeting moments"

so, one possibility is that this is related to the au/fangame in an "escaping your real life and jumping into the whimsy that is this gravity falls game" sort of way. if we're counting the second bit, part of the story could be about refusing to let the game go? always coming back to it, never truly letting it end?

alternatively, the "cherishing life's fleeting moments" is about the show and "embracing the present" is about finding new joys in life. third possibility is that i'm overthinking this

A Sadness Runs Through Him by The Hoosiers. okay, i can connect this one to a few characters:

-the stan twins (or just one, lots of people just go with one)

-the player character (going hand-in-hand with the "not wanting to let the game end" thing)

-...bill cipher? (again, if you can't let the game die, you can't let any of it truly die, and that includes the antagonist. the lines 'asked me to pray to the god he doesn't believe in' and 'don't look at me with those eyes' work especially well for bill, with the former possibly being linked to the axolotl. considering that he called out for the axolotl to revive him and, in this scenario, he came back without its help. or maybe it's just. an actual god. who knows what bill believes)

Two Birds by Regina Spektor

-Mabel and Dipper or Stan and Ford work, of course. however-

-Bill and the player??? i'm sorry i caught this string and i'm refusing to let ago until i get to a song that proves me wrong

-adding third idea after reading back through this: one bird is the player, the other is representative of either the show or other people in the player's life. the player doesn't want to let go, and ends up in an unfortunate situation as a result, with the other "bird" leaving without them

Ruler of Everything by Tally Hall

I'm gonna say this one is also related to Bill Cipher, for a few reasons- one, the line "do you like how my face disintegrates into chalk?" well. it did kinda do that when stan punched him didn't it

second reason is because the whole back-and-forth section of the song could be between the player and bill. "i saw you slobber over clovers on the side of the hill, i was observing the birds, circle in for the kill" could be a reference to bill's death, with him becoming a stone statue in the woods. in the final episode, you see a bird land on his hand- hence, i was observing the birds. "circle in for the kill" could be the player, rightfully, not trusting him not to try mass murder again

there's also "i've been you, i know you, your facade is a scam" coming from the player. they've watched the show, they've probably interacted with discussions about it, fanart, fanfiction, possibly even made some of their own. they know bill as a character and, more importantly, they know he's not an honest one

(the rest of these are songs i had never listened to before now)

Tom's Diner by Suzanne Vega, DNA

i'll be honest i've got nothing for the lyrics. i suppose there's just too many ways i could interpret it- for example, applying the "player theory" to this one, the player could be the singer or the person outside the window. bill could be the dead person in the newspaper, or it could be someone unrelated. the singer could be one of the characters (leaning towards ford, considering he is the coffee guy) and the waiter is the player, or the person outside the window is still the player, or the person exchanging hellos is the player. you see what i mean?

Obstacles by Syd Matters

mmm not entirely sure about this one, but i think it could be from the perspective of the characters? the blizzard/changing weather is the world the player's trapped them in, the foreseeing obstacles is the player themselves, and the playing hide and seek in waterfalls represents the world before the game. the world as in the show (especially considering that the cave behind the waterfall is pretty important whenever it comes up)

Constellations by The Oh Hellos

ditto, but a little more optimistic (the mention of "good intentions", assuming that the player isn't refusing to let the game end out of maliciousness + "everything you thought you knew will fall apart, but you'll be alright" acknowledging that what's happening is terrible and it's not likely that life for the characters will not return to normal, but they will persist throughout it)

Willow Tree March by The Paper Kites

i lied i have heard this one i just never knew the name. bonus points for having one of my favorite songs in your playlist and therefore helping me rediscover it. anyway, continuing with our player theory, this one could be a more...guilty approach to it? guilty in that the lyrics ("with your lust and your greed weighing down" and "and you weaken your love and you hold it above your head" for example) seem to be more accusatory, and the repeated lyrics "we all still die" and "this tree, it will die (without leaves)" make me think the singer represents the characters, trying to get across the idea that it doesn't matter how hard the player holds on to the game, it'll inevitably die anyway

Just A Man from EPIC: The Musical

not entirely sure about this one either. possibly, the player realizing that not letting the game end is hurting the characters and reflecting on that?

Viva La Vida by Coldplay

this feels like more of a bill song than a player song

Conclusion!

alright, so my guess at this au is that it's sort of about a self-aware game? the player plays through the game, then plays it again and again and again and refuses to let it rest. overtime, this starts to wear down on the characters and causes things to go wrong, such as reviving bill cipher. at some point, the characters begin to directly plead with the player to let the game end and, possibly after some sort of tragedy or new route via bill that kills or otherwise harms the other characters, the player start to realize that it's their own actions that are causing the game to break down. what exactly happens after that? depends on the player

no idea how close i was, but! good playlist i thoroughly enjoyed going through it :]

#also the offer is always open :]#i said that already but. not to the other tumblr folks so i'm saying it again here #oh wow that was a bit of a long one huh #(not tagging this one because i wasn't sure if you'd be opposed to me doing that or not-)

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morrigan-sims · 10 months

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7 & 16 for 5 of your personal favourite Sims ❤️ (ily morri)

Ahhh, thank you!! (ily too!!!)

7. Does your oc collect anything? What about of knowledge or facts? How big is their collection?

Avra collects knives/daggers. She has at least 10, and usually is wearing at least 4 of them on her person at all times. Ellie collects knowledge. She has her spellbook where she keeps all the spells she knows, along with her notes on them. She also has a notebook where she keeps any other interesting facts that she learns. Zen collects jewelry, specifically rings. They have a lot of rings, and all they always have at least one or two rings on every finger. Tessa collects bottles and vials. Not necessarily on purpose, but she's acquired a lot of them over the years. She has a huge cabinet in her rooms that is full of little bottles holding different potions and ingredients. Captain Blackthorne collects people. Not in a weird way. He just ends up becoming a father figure to a lot of his recruits. A lot of people join the guard because they don't want to be at home and don't have the money or support to strike out on their own. And Blackthorne is very aware of this, and does his best to make sure all of his guards feel comfortable. So a lot of them end up seeing him as a father figure.

16. How affectionate is your oc? How do they convey their affection? By being touchy, or through more subtle ways?

Fallon isn't super affectionate, at least not loudly so. She shows her love mostly through quality time with the people she cares about, as well as subtle touches. Hand squeezes, quick hugs, etc. But she's not super showy or flashy about it. Captain Blackthorne is more touchy than most of the others. He likes touching people, and would gladly hug Fallon if she'd let him. With his recruits, he's more likely to give them a pat on the back or a shoulder squeeze than a full-on hug, but that's mostly to keep an air of professionalism. His biggest way he shows his affection (much to Fallon's annoyance) is being concerned for and protecting the people he cares about. He always is worried about Fallon, which drives her up the wall sometimes. And while he's not stereotypically over-protective, he does worry a lot for her safety (though his concerns aren't totally unfounded, based on what happened to Rosalynn...). Tessa shows her love by taking care of the people she cares about. Asking if they're okay, anticipating what they need, etc. She enjoys taking care of people, which is part of the reason she became a healer. She's not very touchy though. She doesn't particularly like hugs or most forms of physical affection, to be honest. Mabel hates touchy-feely things. She likes to pretend that she doesn't care about anyone, and will go out of her way to act annoyed by people who try to hug her or expect her to hug them. Her main way of showing her love is cooking for people. Learning their favorite foods and making them. (For example, she knows all of Fallon's favorite foods, and will make them whenever she gets the hint that Fallon is having a rough time. She refuses to admit that she does that on purpose though, and if you questioned her about it, she would insist it was a coincidence.) Ellie shows her affection by sharing the things she loves. Which usually means info-dumping on people. If she finds out someone likes something, she'll do her best to learn about it, and tell them facts about it, or ask them questions about it and give them a chance to talk about it. She does not like to be touched, for the most part, because of her sensory issues from her autism. The only one who really gets to touch her/be touched by her is her cat familiar.

#latteaki #ask morrigan #oc asks #🖋#oc: Avra #oc: Zen #oc: Ellie #rtq: Fallon #rtq: Captain Blackthorne #rtq: Mabel #rtq: Tessa

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gatorinator · 2 years

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Ok The House (netflix) has been living in my head rent free ever since I saw it last night and I just—

Ok I was upset that the three stories didn’t connect somehow, but I’m just a creature who likes things to make sense and tie together so that’s forgivable. Anyways.

There’s something about the tone, in each of the stories. The way the first one, from the start of the deal and the POV of mable, just feels you with dread and unease. The ever changing house, the dolls, the frankly insane architect laughing. The horror at watching the parents so quickly forget their children and become obsessed with the house. I saw someone compare it to a dark fairytale, and yes it totally is. I think I gasped the first time I Mabel saw a builder, the way he froze and stared at her was so ominous.

Ok the second one— that one I cannot stop thinking about. Gosh, just the way he poured his whole life into this house and watching his desperation in trying to sell it. The way he took care of the bugs, and the realization that this problem went much deeper— the very structure of the house was overrun. And I’ll be honest it took me a hot second to realize the odd couple were shaped like the bugs, but my gasp when I did. And the way they said “we are very interested in this house” I knew they weren’t buying that bad boy. And they did such a good job of just immersing you in the world that you forget he’s a rat! So then the end, he inhales the very stuff he’s been using to kill the vermin infesting the house and it almost kills him. And the “let’s go home”, the music in this, the bug dance, the inevitability and horror at the end as they just absolutely destroy this house. Cuz they are pests. That’s what they do. The way he scratches off the earpiece, and scuttles into the oven and down a hole he’s clearly dug. THE DENTIST that was the funniest reveal. Gosh this one is both the most fascinating and the most disturbing.

I didn’t like the third one at first. I think I wanted the house to be left, or destroyed. But it was going for a hopeful tone, and I think that’s what Rosa deserved. The worldbuilding in this one was insane—the opening shot shows you a world completely flooded, save for the house, and then Rosa trying to collect rent from her tenants. Me and my friend were like “why doesn’t she kick them out, what the heck is this terrible contract where they can get away with paying in fish and crystals”. And then you realize that Rosa is absolutely delusional, because there is literally nowhere else to go but the house! Where would they get money? Where would she use money??? It was very funny. I loved the water rising, and the mist moving in. I think I’ll appreciate the ending more when I watch it again, with the idea of the house representing not a malicious being, but the owners obsessions. But I wish I liked it the first time around—I think i want at least most of the house destroyed and left behind, as Rosa moves on. Idk.

This movie was so good and I can’t stop raving about it. Watching it felt like watching art, both in the amazing animation and in the storytelling itself. So good.

#the house netflix #the house #als movie reviews #I guess #y’all this movie #this movie man #it was something for sure

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portalford · 3 years

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I Can Picture You So Easily

AO3

It hits Stan at the stupidest times.

Well. That makes it sounds like Stan just forgets, when really it never quite goes away — sometimes it’s just more.

Like now.

He’s looking in the mirror — he found it tucked way, way back in a closet (and he’s gonna skip right over that because when he got here the mirror in the bathroom was broken, cracked until you couldn’t see a thing and why was Ford—nope) — and he’s trying out a new look for Mr. Mystery.

Gotta keep it fresh, right? Accessorize?

Glasses aren’t accessories, unfortunately. He can’t go without them anymore.

(Really, he needed them years ago, but he was too stubborn to admit it, or too broke, or whatever, but he’s literally tripping over his own feet now. Needs must).

Ford wouldn’t be caught dead in this getup. No sense of fashion. So that’s fine.

The glasses—

(Ford started wearing glasses when he was six. Stan had laughed himself silly when they went to the drugstore and tried on the biggest, most obnoxious frames they could find. Ma had scolded, but she’d been too distracted checking price tags to do more than scold.

In the end, they went with some cheap horn-rimmed frames that Stan wouldn’t be caught dead in even now. Old-man glasses, at six. But that was Ford all over).

—they bring some stuff up. The twin thing sucks, sometimes.

(Looking in a mirror and seeing the changes, the lines in his face, the grey in his hair — does Ford have crow’s feet now? Is his hair going silver? It was always unmanageable — is it thinning like Stan’s is now, or is it still thick and flyaway, like it was when Ford was sixteen? Did he even live long enough to get lines in his face and aches in his joints, or is he forever twenty-eight, dead somewhere in the universe?)

Time to stop thinking.

Notice the differences.

Stan’s ears and nose are bigger than Ford’s, always have been. He’s heavier and his shoulders are broader.

(Has Ford gotten bulkier, fighting to survive? Or is still he halfway to gaunt, like the last time Stan saw him?)

Definitely time to stop thinking.

Stan flashes a smile, and yeah, that’s all him. Cheerful, magnetic, and a hundred percent fake.

Time to work the crowds.

*****

There’s an ad for the nice ink pens Ford saved up to buy when he was fourteen.

Stan turns it off.

*****

Mabel finds a picture, once.

“Grunkle Stan!” Her eyes are all lit up as she shows him the torn photograph. “I found this under a floorboard in the attic!”

If Stan ever had any doubts about his poker face, he can lay them to rest now. It’s all on the ropes and his expression is perfectly level, maybe even a little curious.

Mabel is still talking. “I didn’t know there were pictures of you before you were all old! Do you have any others?”

Oh.

Stan still forgets sometimes, even after everything, that most people can’t tell him and Ford apart.

He knows better.

The young man in the photograph is unmistakably Ford, taken while he was living in Gravity Falls. He’s got his head bent over that journal of his, but the photographer managed to catch the eager light in his eye, the edge of his smile.

Stan wonders who that photographer was, all those years ago.

A tug at his shirt reminds him he’s not alone, and he definitely can’t get messed up about this picture of his secret twin brother.

Mabel’s face has fallen a bit. “Grunkle Stan? Are you okay?”

Stan gives himself two more seconds to look at the picture — Ford just looks so happy; Stan can’t even remember the last time Ford looked like that, even before it all fell apart — and turns to Mabel.

“Yeah,” he says. He smiles and ruffles her hair. “Pretty good picture, huh?”

*****

The name is the worst.

Stan never thought identity theft could involve so little fun.

Usually he can get away with just “Stan Pines,” and that’s fine. That’s his name. That’s who he’s supposed to be.

Sometimes, though, that’s not enough for whoever’s asking.

“What did you say your name was again?”

He smiles. Lays it on thick. “Stanford Pines.”

“Could you sign here?”

He does. His blocky, uneven handwriting looks even worse than usual where he’s expecting to see neat, flowing script, the way Stanford Pines is supposed to be written.

“This is Stanford Pines,” someone will say. “Mr. Mystery.”

Stan smiles some more. Yes, Stanford Pines is certainly that.

Gideon is the worst. Stanford this and Stanford that and Stan’s never wanted to punch a child so much in his life.

“Stanford Pines!”

He smiles, and he lies.

*****

Dipper halfway drives him nuts sometimes.

It’s not like the kid’s a mini-Ford — he reminds Stan enough of himself, sometimes, though Stan’s not sure that’s great either — but he’s got the brains and the stubbornness and the love of weird nonsense, for sure.

He’s also got that obsessive edge, the drive that sent Ford right off the metaphorical cliff.

Usually Mabel tags along on the weirdness hunts — they make a day of it. They go out, just the two of them, and come back laughing and joking and shoving at each other.

That’s enough of a painful reminder, but sometimes Stan will catch Mabel sitting by herself, coloring or crafting with a little less energy than usual, and he’ll realize that Dipper’s buried himself in monster theory again.

He tries to keep the kid busy with chores and hustle, but it’s a losing battle.

It was the first time, too.

*****

There’s this old song that Ford used to love when they were younger.

It’s got no words, and Stan used to make fun of it — what's the point of a song with no words? But Ford insisted it had Meaning, capital M.

It comes on the radio now and then.

Depending on how masochistic Stan is feeling that day, he might let it play.

He still wonders what Ford heard in this song, and if Ford would hear it now.

*****

He realizes, one day near the end, that he’s been Stanford longer than he’s been Stanley.

What’s the point, really? What does a name matter if it’s so easy for someone else to take your place?

(Did Ford matter so little, in the grand scheme of things, that not one person could recognize him in a place he lived for six years?

Does Stan, in a place he’s lived for almost thirty?)

If he could just stop catching Ford in his reflection now and then, that’d be great.

*****

It’s not any better once Ford gets back (once Stan brings Ford back, the ungrateful bastard).

“Stanford!”

Stan’s got a smile on his face before he even turns around, and what’s wrong with him that he’s halfway made this lie into a Pavlovian response? Someone calls him Stanford, he smiles and lies.

(Stanford — the real Stanford — is in the basement right now. He doesn’t even exist, as far as anyone else is concerned. Stan is Stanford, Stanley is dead, and Ford is a nonentity.

What a life this is).

*****

“So how was it?”

Stan grunts. “How was what?”

Ford rolls his neck, wincing a little as he works out the unavoidable crick from hunching over a drawing for twenty minutes. “Being me.”

Stan shrugs. “Wasn’t hard. We’re basically the same person, y’know.”

Ford snorts. A long time (a lifetime) ago that comment might have gotten him worked up, but he’s steadier now, softer around the edges. “Very funny. I saw your lease renewal. You didn’t even change your handwriting, for heaven’s sake.”

“Ford, I rolled up to town, said I was you, and started a tourist trap. You had a total personality transplant and nobody noticed.” Stan grimaces. That sounded really bad.

Ford’s expression has gone rueful and a little sad at the edges, but he doesn’t seem like he’s about launch into full-blown self-recrimination, so that’s fine. “Yes, well. That’s what happens when you isolate yourself for six years and your only friend erases his mind to cope with the mistakes you made.”

And that’s Ford trying to shoulder all the blame again, but Stan keeps his mouth shut. They’re both too comfortable to argue right now. “Being honest — for once — it kinda sucked.” Ford’s looking at him, open and encouraging, so Stan keeps going. “Everyone thought I was you, and it—I wasn’t. I didn’t want to be.” Stan shrugs. “I wanted you you.”

Ford smiles, and it’s a little more worn than Stan remembers, but it’s real, and it’s him. “I understand. I met a few parallel versions of you on my travels, and they were you, but — they weren’t really you.” Ford closes his journal (his new one) and sets it aside, tipping his head back over his chair. More playfully, he adds, “I wouldn’t want to be you either, Stanley.”

Stan laughs. “Yeah? Couldn’t handle the salesmanship?”

“Have more self-respect than to wear any part of your wardrobe.”

“Says the man who wears sweaters in the summer.”

Ford lifts his head and smiles, and this time it’s almost exactly how Stan remembers — quick and a little crooked. “Fair enough.” Ford stretches, rolls his neck again. “For what it’s worth, Stanley, I am glad to be back.” A wry look. “Even if it’s going to take ages to sort out the criminal record you gave me.”

Stan slouches deeper into the couch. Any further and he’s going to slide off, but that’s a risk he’ll take. “Yeah, yeah. Talk to me when you’re legally dead.”

“You did that.”

“And?”

“I legally don’t exist.”

“I was trying to learn theoretical physics at the time, Stanford; cut a man some slack.”

Ford laughs, quiet. “Did I ever thank you for that?”

Stan cracks an eye open. He didn’t realize he closed them. “What, learnin’ physics? Because I’m pretty sure that’s some of the stuff that’s not coming back.”

Ford rolls his eyes. “For saving me.”

“Hm.” Ford’s thanked him several times, but lately it’s been less Ford kicking himself and more Ford cautiously trying to engage in the old back-and-forth they used to have, and Stan can get behind that one. “I dunno. Might have to say it again.”

“You’re burning through my gratitude very quickly,” Ford says mildly, “but all right. Thank you for saving me. You knucklehead.”

Stan never got called that when he was Ford. He thinks he’s missed it, at least the way Ford says it — like it means something completely different.

“Uh-huh.” Stan’s eyes are closed again. He figures he’ll just leave them closed. “Missed you too, nerd.”

And maybe there’s something to be said for being your own person.

It feels pretty good.

#gravity falls #gravity falls fanfiction #stanley pines #stanford pines #back on the angst with a happy ending train #feat. a side of introspection and melodrama!#i love it here

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seiya234 · 4 years

Text

thunder only happens when it’s raining

for @feferipeixes, even if they’re a big jerk who calls me out on my tropes.

Prompt: “Dipper, pre-2012, has intermittent visions of the far, far future. He doesn't understand them and he's scared.”

To be honest, by the time the twins were two, Anna slept through any noises that she heard from their baby monitors.

Not that she thought that they really needed them any more but it had taken them such a long time to get the kids on a decent sleep schedule, and they were still having to give a bottle to Mabel to get her to sleep and shit her teeth were going to come out all fucked up and it made Mark feel better and...

Well. Anyway. Being the mother of twins meant as a defense mechanism Anna Pines had trained herself to sleep through any weird bed noises she heard the kids doing at this point in order that she could get some sleep.

The bloodcurdling scream that came from Dipper’s monitor at two am however? That not only had her awake, but tripping over the blanket in her hurry to get out of bed and into his room, her heart thumping painfully in her chest because what was wrong with him, what was wrong with him?

(this wasn’t I woke up and I don’t like it. this wasn’t even I had a nightmare. this was adult fear. Anna couldn’t tell you how she knew that until it was far too late.)

She ran into his room and turned on the light, not even caring about keeping the light low to help ease him back to sleep, she needed to see him, she needed to make sure he was okay.

Outwardly, he was fine, though he all but leapt out of the crib in his attempt to get at her, soft baby fat cheeks glistening with tears. She picked him up, and he nuzzled into her chest. Anna laid her face on Dipper in turn, smelling the sweat of the playground in his hair, the spit on his pajama collar, the playdoh under his nails...everything that made him him.

“Baby, did you have a bad dream?”

“Reh!”

Anna’s brow furrowed. “Are you saying... red?”

“Reh! Reh! Red! Reh!”

That was definitely what Dipper was saying. But what could he have dreamt of that was red that scared him so? A fire truck? Strawberries? Blood?

Wait. Blood? No. No that was ridiculous. He had barely ever seen blood, how would Dipper know what that was?

Anna sighed as she sat down in the rocker with her still crying son. “I told your daddy that Clifford the Big Red Dog was going to scare you. It’s okay. Momma’s got you now.”

(if Dipper was twelve instead of two, he could have told his mother that he had a dream where he was covered in blood. swimming in blood. drinking blood. drinking and laughing and crying blood and everything, everything was fucking blood.

But Dipper was two and all he knew was he didn’t know what he just dreamt about, just that he didn’t like it.)

----

"Fuck, kid, you look like Ford at this age.”

Dipper looked up from the blocks that he was stacking impossibly tall. “Bad word,” he said primly.

The woman in the long purple dress started and looked at him. She looked different than anyone Dipper knew in his life. She had big chunky gold earrings and smelt weird and had a short stick in her hand that gave off smoke like one of the candles Daddy would occasionally light.

“Kid, you shouldn’t be able to see me.”

“Why not?” Dipper knew that dreams were a time where he could do whatever he wanted.

(”ah, lucid dreaming my boy! a valuable skill,” a grand uncle told him years later, before the world ended)

“Because you don’t have the right eyes,” she said. “Look, I’m going to go and figure this out, you be a good boy now you hear?”

----

“WELL WELL WELL WELL WELL IF IT ISN’T PINE TREE.”

“You’re a triangle,” Dipper pointed out, slightly disgruntled. He had been having a very good dream, one where he was allowed to eat a second and third slice of cake, and he wanted very much to return back to that.

“WHAT’S THE MATTER? CAT GOT YOUR TONGUE?”

Dipper knew without knowing how that as soon as the weird triangle snapped his fingers something bad and owwy would happen to his mouth. Dipper did not want that to happen. So he looked at the mountain in the distance and pulled stepped back before the triangle got near him.

The triangle snapped. Then he snapped again. Then his eye got angry looking when Dipper just started eating cake while watching him.

“SO! YOU THINK YOU’RE CLEVER DON’T YOU?”

Dipper didn’t answer. He wanted to take advantage of eating as much red cake as he could before he had to wake up.

“WELL, I GOT PLANS FOR YOU DIPPER PINES! B͟I͙G̱̖̭̞̩̗̙ ̴͚̹̘͚̝̥P̩̝̞LA̕Ņ͍͇̤̮̘͔̳S͈̜. A STORM IS CO-”

“Are you going to keep shouting or do you want some cake?”

The triangle stopped talking for a second, twirling his cane in thought, and then said, “SURE. I’LL HAVE SOME CAKE. EVERYTHING IS GOING TO BURN SOON ANYWAY.”

“You make no sense.”

“I MAKE PLENTY OF SENSE! YOU JUST DON’T KNOW IT YET!”

----

At the end of every month Dipper and Mabel’s teacher would pack up all the drawings they did in their pre-k class and send it home with them.

Mark was of mixed feelings about this. On one hand he enjoyed his children’s drawings and seeing what was going on in their heads. On the other hand, they insisted on having all of their drawings either pinned on all the walls or saved.

(anna threw a few away once, mabel found them in the trash, and there was no living with the twins for a week after.)

And then there was the subject matter....

For Mabel, everything was on fire. Everything. Every thing. She drew an apple tree... but on fire. She drew their visit to their grandparents... on fire. Their kitchen... on fire. Mabel and Dipper playing... with a fire in the background.

The teacher assured them that was normal, a lecture on fire safety having stuck in Mabel’s mind....

He couldn’t explain Dipper’s drawings to Mark however.

There was blood (it was very definitively not just coloring with only the red crayon.) There were rudimentary organs (and how did Dipper know what the liver looked like? Mark asked and Dipper was uncomfortable and then started to cry and Mark felt like a dick.) There were knives and candles and shapes that made Mark’s head hurt.

Mark knew what the problem was.

He resolved to ask his Dad to stop letting the kids watch Unsolved Mysteries.

(but he knew deep inside that that wasn’t really the reason why.)

----

“Dipper there’s a lady here.”

Dipper looked up to see the lady in the purple dress again.

“Hello,” he said politely, before going back to building a sand castle with his sister.

“That’s... that’s really your sister.”

“Mmm-hmmm,” Mabel murmured, filling a bucket with wet sand.

“Huh.” The lady tapped out her weird smoking thing, and brought it to her lips before speaking again. “I should have guessed there would be some bleed over. Any way kid- look, what’s your name?”

“He’s Dipper and I’m MABEL!” Mabel said, pulling Dipper around the neck for a big hug.

“Huh. And you two are-” her eyes unfocused for a second- “Shermie’s kid’s kids.”

“You know Grandma?!”

Dipper didn’t know until now that a smile could be sad. “Yeah, I sure do. Look, I came here to say that I figured out your-” she pointed at Dipper, “deal.”

Dipper didn’t say anything, because he didn’t understand and he knew Mabel would do it for him.

“What do you mean?”

“Yeah, so, your shit’s fucked darling. Totally ass over teakettle bad. Sorry lovey but, that’s just how it’s going to be. That’s how you can even see me.”

None of this made any sense to Dipper, though he saw Mabel mouthing along to what the lady in purple was saying and saving the Bad words for later.

There was a moment of silence and then Mabel asked “So.. Things bad?”

“Yes.”

“Why you tell us then?”

The lady in purple looked at them for a solid minute without saying anything. The stick in her mouth dropped on the ground and she ground her foot over it.

“I...Fuck, I’m sorry kids. Look, do you want a candy cigarette?” She proffered two sticks to them and they took them.

(yes she was a stranger. But this was Dipper’s dream and they would always be safe in here, and also...Dipper had the feeling she was and wasn’t a stranger. Not really.)

The weird lady ran her fingers through her hair.

“Look kids... Christ, I was never good with talking to kids. Barely managed talking to my own, and look how-”

She saw their blank looks, and said “Never you mind that. I guess just... look, not gonna lie Mason-”

“Dipper.”

“-Dipper, things look really, really rough for you going ahead. But-” And now she kneeled down until she was eye level with him, and her hands were on his shoulders, and her nails were digging into his skin and it was uncomfortable but he didn’t let it bother him because he knew, somehow, that this was Important.

“The bad? And trust me, there’s a whole lot of that, but....It’s outweighed by the good, I promise.”

She turned to look at Mabel, who was currently eating sand because she could get away with that in dreamland.

“She’s a lot of your good. But remember to not only rely on her for your good. That’s not fair to her. And that’s not fair to you. Promise... Can you promise me to remember that?”

“I promise.”

The woman in purple looked into his eyes, then grimaced. “No. No. No, you’re going to forget that, you won’t remember, you won’t listen-”

Her hands began to hurt.

“I’m- I’m sorry-”

She paused. Her hands released from his shoulders, and instead she grabbed him into a hug.

“Bubbeleh. My love. You never, never have to apologize to me, okay? There’s.... there’s so much that will happen to you but here and now, don’t apologize, okay? It will be okay, okay?”

She was crying and Dipper didn’t understand, and he looked at Mabel and he could tell that she didn’t understand either so all he said was, “Okay,” and let the weird lady who was weird yet kind of like Grandma Shermie hug and cry on him.

---

By the time Dipper was in kindergarten, the dreams had ended.

That was probably for the best.

#transcendence au #seiya writes!

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heartofether · 3 years

Text

Bonus Episode #4 - Irene's Inauguration TRANSCRIPT

[You can listen to the show wherever you get your podcasts, or go to our “Listen” page if you’re on desktop.]

AUTOMATED VOICE

Please state your message.

[INTRO MUSIC PLAYS FOR SOME TIME BEFORE FADING OUT.]

[PHONE BEEP.]

[INT. THE BREAK ROOM, MIDDAY, AROUND LUNCH.]

[IRENE IS SITTING DOWN AT THE TABLE, WHILE ADEN IS LEANING OVER HER SHOULDER. THERE ARE VARIOUS OFFICE AMBIANCE NOISES HEARD IN THE BACKGROUND.]

IRENE

I don’t think I need your help setting it up, you know. I’m pretty sure I can figure out how to use an app.

ADEN

Sorry, sorry, I’m just—excited, you know? It feels like you’re about to take a big step, and I get to be the one to watch it happen.

IRENE

[SHE SCOFFS.] As if this is a major life milestone.

ADEN

Hey, I think it is! In a way. You know? It’s not common for someone your age to not be active on social media—

IRENE

Hey.

ADEN

Not that that’s a bad thing! You’re like, joining the masses though. It’s like an inauguration.

IRENE

Yeah, sure. Whatever.

ADEN

And, I’d also like to witness the outcome of my months of pestering you.

IRENE

Hey! I kept saying I was going to—

ADEN

So have you come up with a username yet?

IRENE

Um, not really? I’m guessing just irenegray is taken.

ADEN

Mmmm, probably. If it helps at all, I added a word to my username that I thought sounded nice. Kind of like, something cool and aesthetic, you know?

IRENE

See, that’s part of the problem. You actively have an aesthetic you’re trying to maintain. I’m just kind of, you know. [SHE VAGUELY MOTIONS.]

ADEN

Hey, I think that’s great that you're authentically yourself and you don’t adhere to any restrictive subcultures.

IRENE

If you wanna call it that… honestly though I just hadn’t thought about it. I mean, you know I’m mostly doing this for you, right?

ADEN

Yeah, yeah, whatever. Just pick a word you like and pair it with your name to see if it sounds nice! Maybe, like, an adjective?

IRENE

Hm. [SHE THINKS FOR A MOMENT, THEN] I kind of like the idea of it being something forest-themed.

ADEN

That would be cute! What if you did, like, the name of a tree? [BEAT] Ooh! You could do something like cedarirene, as in red cedars, you like those, right?

IRENE

[THINKING] I kind of like that, they’re pretty… [beat]

ADEN

[HE LAUGHS AT HIS OWN JOKE] Or you could do, like, irenefir, as in Douglas-fir? Those are pretty common in this part of the states.

IRENE

[SHE CHUCKLES, THEN, HUMS IN THOUGHT.] Yeah, I’m not sure I’m going for the Christmas tree route today.

ADEN

Hey, if you end up deciding you don’t like it, you can always change it later.

IRENE

That’s a good point. [BEAT] But I think cedarirene is good.

ADEN

I like it, too.

[A PAUSE AS SHE TYPES.]

ADEN

Then just add your email and password—don’t worry, I’ll look away for this part… [KEEPS TRAILING ON AS AN AFTERTHOUGHT WHILE IRENE TYPES] Even though I’m fairly certain it’s the same login info you use for everything… which you should really work on by the way, you know that really isn’t the most secure—

[MORE PHONE TYPING.]

IRENE

Got it.

ADEN

Then you’re done!

[A BEAT.]

IRENE

What do I do now?

ADEN

Now, you get to customize your profile. You know, add your name, your bio, a profile picture—oh, actually hold on, give me your phone real quick.

IRENE

Why?

ADEN

I want you to follow me! Here, just let me search for my username.

IRENE

[SHE CHUCKLES.] Sure. Go wild.

[ADEN IS HEARD TYPING IN THE BACKGROUND.]

ADEN

…and done. Oh, actually, while I’m here, I should have you follow Carol and Julia. [HE STARTS TYPING THEIR USERNAMES IN.]

IRENE

[IN SHOCK] Carol has Instagram?

ADEN

Uh, yeah.[beat] You seriously don’t understand just how behind you are, do you?

IRENE

[SHE GAPES IN FAUX-OFFENSE] You act like I’m withering away into a pile of dust just for not using social media.

ADEN

[GIGGLING] I’m kidding, Irene! I know lots of reasons why someone may want to go off the grid. I mean, social media can be kind of, er…

IRENE

A cruel and unjust place full of corporate marketing and unattainable standards?

ADEN

Yeah. Also, it can be kind of addicting for some people. So just, I mean I doubt you’ll have that problem since you don’t really seem to care, but just—be careful.

IRENE

Don’t worry, I doubt I’ll even use it that much.

ADEN

You better at least open the app every now and then. I want to send you stuff.

IRENE

[SHE LAUGHS.] I’ll keep notifications on for you, bud… If nothing else.

ADEN

Right, so, back to your profile. I’ll let you do whatever you want for this part. Oh, you should put your pronouns in your bio, though.

IRENE

Got it. [A PAUSE, THEN] Uh, what else should I put?

ADEN

Anything you want, really. Some people like to put their age, their job, sexuality, a fun fact about themselves.

IRENE

I mean, I don’t really want to share my entire personal life with the internet.

ADEN

Then don’t. Just put some totally random fun fact.

IRENE

Hm. Okay.

[A PAUSE AS IRENE TYPES.]

ADEN

Is that… did you actually drink three cups of coffee in less than one hour before?

IRENE

It was finals season.

ADEN

[CONCERNED] I can only drink one cup, and that still makes me shaky. Were you okay?

IRENE

Gonna be totally honest, I don’t remember a damn thing from those twenty-four hours.

[THERE’S A BRIEF PAUSE BEFORE THEY BOTH LAUGH FOR A FEW SECONDS.]

ADEN

[THROUGH FADING LAUGHTER] Okay, okay. Now you just need to set a profile pic.

IRENE

I mean, I don’t really take selfies ever.

ADEN

It doesn’t have to be a photo of your face. Do you have any pets?

IRENE

Not unless my dead betta fish from three years ago counts.

ADEN

Hm, okay. Some people just make it a color they like, or if you just have a nice photo in your camera roll you want to use, you could do that. Some people use characters they like, art pieces, pictures of buildings, yada, yada, yada. Just pick something.

IRENE

Where do you get all of your info about Instagram accounts, anyways?

ADEN

Oh, it was actually my minor in college. “Aesthetically Pleasing Profiles 101.”

[THEY BOTH LAUGH.]

ADEN

I’m joking, of course. It’s just…I don’t know, the internet was kind of a safe space for me for a while? When I first moved to Daughtler, I didn’t have many friends, and my constant state of anxiety was far from helpful. Online, I could be myself and find people with similar interests way easier than I could around town, without ever having to worry about my weird real-life mannerisms that might drive people away.

IRENE

[SINCERE] That makes a lot of sense. It’s good to have support like that. I, uh, probably could have used something like that in college, honestly. I just got kind of used to isolating myself after a while, I guess. [A BEAT.] Though, if it helps at all, I think you’re pretty cool offline, too.

ADEN

Thanks, Irene. [A BEAT.] So, about your profile pic.

IRENE

Do you think Carol would mind if I made it a picture of Mothman?

ADEN

I— [HE GIGGLES.] You know what? I think she’d think it’s cute. Do it.

[IRENE GIGGLES. SHE SETS THE PROFILE PIC.]

ADEN

Welcome to the digital world, Irene Gray.

IRENE

Please, I’m not a grandpa. I know how the internet works.

ADEN

I know, I know. I’m excited to see what you post, though.

IRENE

[THINKING] I honestly hadn’t given it much thought. I guess we’ll find out… if I remember to.

ADEN

Don’t think about it too hard, alright? Just be your authentic self.

IRENE

I’ll certainly try my best.

[PHONE BEEP.]

AUTOMATED VOICE

Today's quote is: "Love is a leash that goes both ways."

Becca De La Rosa in Mabel, Episode 36, 2019.

[OUTRO MUSIC AND CREDITS PLAY.]

#heart of ether transcripts

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miraculouscontent · 4 years

Note

Just a random thing from your tags, do you not like Gravity Falls? If so can I ask why?

I don’t, like, hate it exactly, but it’s definitely not my brand of show. It’s not that I can’t see why people like it, but I’ll be completely honest, I went through the entire series and I could only tell you very basic plot points because I retained very little. After the finale, I feel like I just wiped a huge chunk of it from my mind.

To explain without going into huge amounts of detail about it:

I really like Dipper but it feels a lot like a Marinette situation (Marinette has it way worse, mind you, but still) where he has to keep giving up his happiness for other people, and the finale just pushed that to eleven. I was really invested in Dipper and Ford’s relationship and just to have it end like that??? With Mabel (who I already disliked based on character type alone) throwing a tantrum and then literally causing the weirdmageddon out of her own selfishness? The ones that come to mind at the moment are whenever she mocks Dipper so badly that he tries to go out of his way to “fix himself,” and then the episode where she gets him fired to save Mermando (yes, she’s saving a person but I don’t see why she couldn’t have found a way where it didn’t cost him his job; also she took that “blackmail” picture and ugggggggh). There’s also the time she guilted him into helping her with her “crush-of-the-week” to the point where Bill freakin’ Cipher was able to throw it back in her face.

Take the pig episode, for example, where she gets Waddles. Dipper has to give up a lot for Mabel and sometimes it’s based around him giving up something with his own crush, and when Mabel tries to help him with his own, it boils down to, “Let me lock you in a room with Wendy even though you’re not ready/don’t want to, even if you literally bang on the door and scream to be let out!”

Oh, and her casually replacing Dipper in her fantasy with “a back-up Dipper with a more supportive attitude,” (her words, not mine, and they are forever burned into my memory; also, had she been totally under Bill’s control, they wouldn’t have been able to convince her to leave, so yeah, she did that) along with her trusting Stan over her own brother, which caused the dimensional rift (yes, it got Ford out but just like--her own brother????).

Also, she never learns that weirdmageddon was literally her fault because the writing wanted her to avoid as many consequences as possible. How the writing basically handed Bill Cipher a perfect opportunity to ruin the circle (”HEY GUYS GUESS WHICH ONE IN THIS CIRCLE GAVE ME WHAT I NEEDED TO CAUSE THIS RUCKUS IN THE FIRST PLACE BECAUSE SHE’S STILL SUPER SELFISH AND CAN’T BE HAPPY FOR HER OWN BROTHER’S APPRENTICESHIP.”) and then didn’t use it is honestly baffling.

And of course it’s only after Dipper has basically done all the work to get her back that she’s all, “oh if you wanna take Ford’s apprenticeship then that’s cool” (which isn’t an apology by the way). I hated that entire courtroom scene because it was just Dipper giving up on everything he wanted the entire series (I’m not against twists like that but they have to be done well) for his selfish sister who got them into this whole mess in the first place.

He was even like, “Spend my entire teens cooped up in a basement with a labcoat? How ridiculous is that?“

Well, first off all, Dipper, that sounds like something you’d love because you’re a nerd and I liked that about you before you threw it away when I was never once invested in your sibling dynamic with Mabel, and secondly, exactly WHAT about Ford made you think that you’d be stuck in a basement all day considering all the adventures Ford had to go on to write those journals???

I feel like I have really bad luck with shows. It’s like Miraculous but reverse the genders, where I really like one character and want them to be happy but then they end up glued to another character who hardly learns and who I despise seeing with them because I know that something bad’s gonna happen like 75% of the time.

#other: non ml talk #other: ask and answer

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transcendence-au · 4 years

Note

r!Pacifica tricks Dipper into running a booth at a TwinCon. He comes across an r!Mabel and an r!Henry who meet at his booth. (Also, brownie points if it’s a Mizcor booth)They both talk about how much they love Alcor and want to date him, and Dipper helps them realize that the traits they’re projecting onto ‘Alcor’ are actually traits they can find in each other. SO WOODZAR HAS BLOSSOMED IN THE PLACE OF MIZCOR

Mod F got really excited about this and ended up writing a thing! (Here it is on AO3 too)

===

Dipper looked toward the entrance of the convention center, at the large banner proudly proclaiming “WELCOME TO TWINCON 2896″, and slammed his head face-first onto the table.

Damn Aubrey. Damn her to the deepest pits of the Nightmare Realm for making him run a booth at TwinCon. He couldn’t believe he’d let himself get taken in by her evil tricks and wily ways; couldn’t believe he made a bet with her and lost. That was the last time he trusted Pacifica’s soul. And he totally meant it this time! Way more than the last eight times Aubrey had tricked him. He definitely wasn’t going to immediately go back to being friends with her. This was the last straw.

A loud creak announced the opening of the main con doors, and the room was quickly filled with a flurry of excitement. Dipper picked his head off the table with a sigh and prepared himself for a long day of peddling garbage. He considered how he must look – a sad demon sitting under a sign reading “MICOR MEMORABILIA” and surrounded by perverse figurines, body pillows, and graphic novels.

And then his curiosity got the better of him. He conjured a mirror in his hand and immediately noticed his top hat was askew, so he reached up to straighten it out. Perfect. He actually looked pretty good that day if he did say so himself. His hair was fluffy, his suit was pressed, his teeth looked sharp. Nice and presentable. He was so busy making faces in the mirror that he almost forgot he was at a convention, until -

“Excuse me, sir?”

“Ack!” Dipper yelped in surprise, his hat shooting high into the air. Despite this, he didn’t take his eyes off the mirror. “What do you want?”

“I hope I didn’t frighten you! You’ve got some lovely merch here. I was just wondering how much this comic would cost.”

“Check the price tag,” he responded gruffly.

“I- I tried, but it doesn’t look like there is one.”

Groaning, Dipper flicked his eyes away from his own beautiful reflection so he could see exactly what depraved nonsense the voice wanted to purchase, and -

Mizar smiled sweetly back at him.

The mirror shattered in his hand. Oh no. Oh no no no no no. This wasn’t happening. Why was she here? What was going on?

“I’ve heard about this series before,” he suddenly realized Mizar was saying, “but I never had the chance to check it out before. It’s a coffee shop AU, right? It’s so inspiring that fans can take the framework of Twin Souls and make even more beautiful stories based off of it.”

Dipper’s head was too filled with buzzing to really make much sense of what she was saying. All he could think about was how his sister’s soul was apparently a fan of the worst book series in the universe. It didn’t even seem like she was doing it as a gag like Mabel did – the girl in front of him was radiating nothing but enthusiasm and sincerity in her aura.

“Oh, I’ve read that!” another voice piped in. “It’s dope as fuck, although the first volume’s got a bit of a Woodzar focus. But if you can power through that, it’s high key Micor there on out.”

Okay okay okay. He could do something about this. Maybe he’d take Mizar aside and have a talk with her about why being a Twin Souls fan was a sin of the highest calibre. Dipper tore his eyes away from her for a moment to tell the newcomer to go away, but no sooner did he get a good look at them than he felt all the air kicked out of his imaginary lungs.

“Don’t get me wrong, man,” Henry’s soul continued, a sly look on her face. “Woodzar is a fine ship. There’s a lot of good Woodzar fic out there and I don’t fault anyone for writing it. But if we’re gonna be honest with ourselves, it’s pretty obvious that Alcor and Mizar belong together. Their romantic chemistry is off the goddamn charts. Remember when they finally kissed in the first novel? Oh, fuckin’ heart palpitations, man.”

The blood drained from Dipper’s face. What in the world was happening? Why were Mizar and Henry both Twinners? What was the universe punishing him for this time??

“I know, right?” Mizar replied with a giggle. “My name’s Minty, by the way. It’s nice to meet you.”

Henry’s soul grinned back. “Halley. Nice to meet you too. I knew coming to this con would be a good idea – it’s the perfect place to find like minded people.”

“What about you?” Minty asked, and it took Dipper a minute – so embroidered was he in querying his omniscience to see exactly what traumatizing thing had happened to Minty and Halley that made them turn out this way – to realize that she was talking to him.

“I, uh, I’m… not a… Micor is bad,” he said finally.

Halley frowned. “What, don’t you love Alcor too? You’re running a booth at TwinCon and your cosplay is on-point! That suit must’ve been expensive, and the wings look almost real!”

Puffs of steam shot out from Dipper’s ears and he flared his wings. “It’s not a cosplay, I just look like this! And I’ll have you know that I would’ve never in a million years gone to a TwinCon if my friend Aubrey hadn’t pretended to be really bad at hula hooping and then made a bet with me that she could beat me in a hula hoop contest and then absolutely kicked my ass into the stratosphere with her nutty good hooping! Graggh!” He slammed his forehead into the table again.

“Awwww,” Minty cooed. “Stage fright is the worst. I know I sure was nervous the first time I went to a con in full cosplay. That was awful nice of your friend to convince you to go anyway!”

Dipper’s head shot up and he stared slack-jawed at the two of them just as Halley nodded. “You’ve got this man, you know? Like I said, your outfit kicks ass. And hey, thanks for opening up to us. That can’t have been easy.”

“B- but I- you WHAT-” Dipper stammered.

Minty squeaked and clapped her hands together. “Yeah! I feel like I’ve made some great friends at this con already.”

“I’m- n- no you’re WILDLY mistaken- this isn’t-”

Both Halley and Minty turned their backs to the increasingly flustered demon and leaned against the stall, looking off into the rest of the hall with pensive expressions. “Friends are nice,” Halley murmured, “but what I wouldn’t give to meet Alcor at this convention. He’s everything I want in a partner. And then I wouldn’t be so lonely anymore.”

Minty put her hand on Halley’s shoulder. “I know what you mean! He’s so confident and protective. Loyal to a fault. If Alcor was here, I’d ask him on a date!”

“What makes you think Alcor wants to date any of you humans?” Dipper grumbled. “Or anyone at all?”

“Don’t be such a pessimist, man!” Halley responded. She patted Dipper on the back, surprising him into coughing out a little cloud of yellow sparkles. “Alcor is real and he’s out there. As long as there’s the smallest spark of hope that he might love me back, I’ll follow him to the ends of the Earth!”

Minty slapped her forehead, startling Dipper out of the silent terror written all over his face. “Oh, duh! He’s cosplaying as Alcor because he’s here to find his Miiiizar! That’s why he’s not interested in Alcor’s love! I connected the dots!”

“No, you haven’t connected anything!” Dipper tried to cut in, terror returning in full force because the situation was spiralling rapidly out of control, but Minty kept going.

“Ah, if only I was Mizar,” she trilled as Dipper watched her soul dance traitorously in her chest. “Then it’d only be a matter of time before Alcor came to ask me out. We’d go to the coffee shop he works at and someone would cover his shift. I’d get a hot chocolate; he, an iced latte.” She sat on the table, sending a set of Mizar action figures toppling over onto Dipper’s lap. “I’d tell him all about how art school’s going and he’d confide in me some dark secrets about how the 2801 moon landing was faked because giant aliens were playing golf with the planets and accidentally knocked the moon into a black hole. And then, finally, he’d give me a dainty kiss on the cheek, and I’d make a little squeaky noise, yknow, and he’d blush and ask me if it was alright for him to do that, and then I’d say I’d rather you kiss me on the lips instead. And then -”

“Okay, I think I’ve heard enough of your fanfiction!” Dipper shouted, cheeks going completely scarlet, claws making deep gashes in the table from how tightly he was gripping it. “I didn’t- I’ve never- No one needed to hear that, it’s- I feel lightheaded.”

“I know what you mean, man,” Halley spoke up, an obvious wobble to her tone. Dipper and Minty looked up to see her staring off into the distance, eyes red and puffy, hands crossed over her heart. “I’m feeling it too. That was so beautiful, Minty, you sure as hell have got a way with words. And yknow, I- I work in a coffee shop, actually. I’d totally take Alcor there. We’d talk and laugh – damn, he’s gotta just have the most heartwarming laugh in the world – and I’d straight up offer right there on the spot to be his Mizar. I wanna protect the world, but I also wanna protect him, I know he’s got a sensitive side, I just know it. I’d chew steel for him.”

No no no no. This had to stop. Mind racing, Dipper struggled to find something they’d said to latch onto. “Hey, uh, Minty!” he interrupted. “You like coffee shops, right? Halley… works in one! You should go there with her. Instead of being here.”

“That’s a great idea!” Minty squealed. “We should all meet up for coffee after the convention!”

“No!” Dipper blurted. “I meant, you two should go. Together. Without me.” All he got in return was blank stares. He ran his hand through his bangs nervously. “Listen, Minty, Alcor doesn’t work at a coffee shop, because no one in the country will hire him. His claws make awful screeching noises on the mugs, and also he’s a demon. But Halley does work at a coffee shop. Maybe… there’s something there?”

Minty and Halley traded glances. “I don’t understand,” the former finally said.

Dipper facepalmed. “Okay. How about… Halley, you want to protect Alcor. That’s ridiculous, he doesn’t need protecting, he has so much magic. But Minty goes to art school, she probably needs someone to, I dunno, support her during tight deadlines. That’s like… mental health protection.”

Minty shrugged. “I guess that sounds nice…”

“And, uh, Minty, you want someone who’s loyal, which sounds to me like what you really need is a dog, not a romantic partner, and I’m not- Alcor is not a dog. Also, again, he’s a demon, he’s only loyal to himself. But if you’re really set on getting that kind of loyalty and trust from a sentient creature, well, Halley’s offered to chew steel for love.”

“Hey man, don’t put words in my mouth, I said I’d chew steel for Alcor,” Halley countered, putting her hands on her hips and staring Dipper down. After a moment, though, she looked back at Minty, who had a starstruck look on her face, and drew back. “I- I mean, don’t get me wrong, I like you Minty. I just don’t want to be alone anymore. How can I trust someone other than Alcor not to get tired of me?”

“Kinda toxic, but also big mood,” Dipper muttered. “Trust isn’t something you can or even should have for people you don’t know. Not just for romance – in any kind of relationship, trust is something you build up through getting to know someone. I should know; there’ve been so many times when I made the mistake of trusting someone – say, not to snuggle body pillows with half naked pictures of me on them – without even knowing them, just because of my preconceived notions about who those people are. Relationships are always a risk, but they’re worth it when they work out. You’ll miss out if you’re too afraid to take that risk.”

He beamed at them, extremely proud of his little speech he’d managed to pull together. Minty and Halley stared back, mouths agape, probably blown away by his emotional maturity.

Then they launched themselves at each other and started furiously making out.

“Oh my stars!” Dipper yelled, recoiling from the mass of flailing limbs. “You literally just met each other! Go get a coffee or something first, holy shit!”

They broke apart, faces red but grinning. “Wow,” Minty breathed.

“Yeah. Wow,” Halley echoed. “Um, would you maybe want to walk around the convention with me? And maybe go get some coffee together afterward? I do work at a coffee shop nearby.”

Minty squealed again and grabbed Halley’s hands. “That sounds wonderful!”

“Yo, dude,” Halley said to Dipper, who was clutching his chest and hyperventilating. “Thanks for the advice. You’ve got some dope emotional maturity. Your friends are lucky to know you.”

Dipper, still trying to calm down, opened his mouth to make some words and only managed to emit a weak gurgle. He settled for giving them a nod.

The two of them started to walk away, but Minty paused and turned back. “Oh wait. We never got your name.”

“I’m Alcor the Dreambender,” Dipper grunted without a second’s pause. “Go away.”

Halley laughed. “Sure you are. You’re really committed to the character, I love it! Maybe we’ll see you around.”

Dipper gave them a strangled half-smile and waved them off, to which they finally made their departure. Finally alone, he collapsed onto the table out of exhaustion. He was relieved that he’d managed to turn Mabel and Henry’s souls away from being Micor shippers, but after a few minutes of lying there the reality of what he’d just done started to sink in.

“Oh stars, I just shipped my sister and her husband,” he moaned. “What is my life. Please, universe, let me get through the rest of the day without anything else happening. Please.”

Naturally, someone immediately started talking to him. “Yo, sleeping guy, wake up.”

“Whatever it is, please just use the credit card swiper and move on,” he responded.

“Dude, what swiper. Help me out.”

With a groan, Dipper picked his head up, and then he froze, his every hair standing on end like a terrified cat.

“This body pillow rocks,” Soos’s soul said, hugging one of the models that had both Alcor and Mizar on it, half naked and blushing. “You gotta hook me up.”

“Ohhhh, I have that pillow! You won’t regret it!” came another voice, and Dipper looked over to see Melody’s soul walking up to the table. “You’ve got good taste. Micor forever, am I right? Bro, there’s some really good smutfic I could recommend you if you’re interested.”

Dipper slid out of his chair and curled up into a ball under the table. “Damn you Aubrey,” he whispered. “I’ll fucking get you back for making me do this.”

(As it turned out, giving Aubrey a dream about being stuck at a convention where everyone was attracted to her did not adequately “get back” at her, and it was a full week before she stopped laughing about it.)

#fic #dipper #mabel #henry #pacifica #soos #melody #reincarnation #twin souls #mod f #Anonymous

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athingthatwantsvirginia · 4 years

Text

A Dash of Morticia

PART THIRTY-SEVEN OF THE DO YOU SEE HER FACE? SERIES

Pairing: Jess Mariano x Original Character (Ella Stevens)

Warnings: discussions of anxiety/panic attacks please read with caution, yelling, mentions of familial abuse, plentiful pop culture references

Word Count: 5K

Summary: After an argument with Jess, Ella storms out of the apartment.

A/N: The descriptions of panic attacks in this chapter and in this fic are based on research and my own experiences. Everyone is different. If you need to talk, I am always here. I just felt Gilmore Girls always kind of ignored Jess’s trauma, and the after-effects it would have had on him.

A few stray streaks of blue paint had dried on her forearms, but Ella was eager to get home and had done a haphazard job of washing up after class. She had sent the kids home with their final projects, the extra time at the end of the day used for free painting time. It was bittersweet to say goodbye to the kids she had spent all three months with, exploring all different mediums through the summer art program at the college. But she was glad to be only two weeks away from the beginning of her final year of grad school. The end of her time as a student was so close, she could almost taste it. Still, though, she found it hard to believe at some point her life wouldn’t be dictated by study guides and test scores.

Her keys stuck slightly in the lock, as they always did, as she entered the apartment. The clock read half past six already; Ella had been too caught up clearing out her room at the college to leave anywhere near on time. The walk home had been calming, the sky just beginning to turn a pinkish orange hue. Her heart was light as she set her keys on the counter and bag on the coat rack. Jess sat on the couch with the third draft of his book in his hands, a crease of concentration between his brows and a red pen in his hand. He hadn’t looked up at the sound of her coming in, but she wasn’t surprised. Lately, he had been totally absorbed in his work.

Over the course of the summer, she had watched his nerves growing over the new project. Though she did her best, she found it hard to understand why. He had already sent preliminary published copies out to certain vendors, and most responses were enthusiastic. The more she found him startling awake in the middle of the night, or snapping at herself or their friends over the smallest things, or growing quiet at things he would normally have spoken to her for hours about, the more she suspected his behavior had little to do with the book. Even when he wasn’t working on his writing, he was stand-offish. Distant. It was though he was somewhere else. A place which made his hands shake and his eyes dart around anxiously.

She chewed at her thumb nail as she approached the couch. The longer she felt out of the sync with him, the more frustrated she grew. If it had been anybody else, she would have told him off months ago. But she knew she needed to be patient. Each time she felt the old, familiar anger rise in her throat, she reminded herself of where they had come from and the way he always listened. But she would be lying to herself if she didn’t admit her faith in his ability to recognize what had been going on with him for more than just the past few months was wavering.

Letting out a small sigh, she plopped down on the couch next to him and ran her nail-bitten fingers through the ends of his hair, her hand on the back of his neck.

“Hey, cutie,” she said quietly.

Still, he didn’t look over at her. But he let a small smile cross his lips. “Hey.”

“We got Thai last week, so do you wanna get Chinese or Mexican tonight?” she asked.

He shrugged. “I don’t know. I’m not that hungry.”

Ella furrowed her brows and scoffed in disbelief. “But we always get takeout on Friday. It’s universal law!”

“Well, you pick,” he said, underlining something on the page.

Biting the inside of her cheek, she took a long pause and a deep breath. “Jess, just take a break. You’ll make yourself nauseous reading it over and over again.”

“You’re one to talk,” he shot back distractedly.

“At least look at me,” she continued, insistent.

He heaved a sigh and finally tore his eyes away from the words. He smacked his lips together and raised his eyebrows expectantly as he faced her. “I’m looking at you.”

Ella took a look back at him. She just couldn’t help it as she rolled her eyes and stood up from the couch. “God, you’re such a dick sometimes.”

“Great, so I guess we’re fighting now?” he asked, tossing the manuscript on the coffee table in annoyance.

Ella turned back to him before she could make it to the bedroom, crossing her arms over her floral t-shirt. She huffed out a breath. “Yeah, I guess if that’s what it takes to get you to talk to me.”

“Okay, Norma Desmond, since apparently we’re acting like we don’t talk to each other every day, what do you wanna talk about?” He shot her a thin, sardonic smile. “You wanna talk about how you’re allowed to get invested in your work but for some reason I’m not?”

She narrowed her eyes at him. For a moment, she thought about apologizing and letting it go. But, then, she realized she didn’t know what she would be apologizing for. The gnawing hunger in her stomach after a long day of work did nothing to help her mood, either. She’d come home excited, ready for some dinner and to celebrate her last day of summer camp. And Jess had played the part of the storm cloud over her head once again. She’d had enough of it.

“Y’know what?” she wagered.

“What?”

“You don’t get to do this,” she said, shaking her head. “You don’t get to act like you wouldn’t feel the same way if I was doing this. If I was barely saying a word and being a jackass to everyone and having nightmares almost every single night!”

Jess ran a hand over his mouth and rose from his seat. “Oh, I don’t get to, huh?”

“No, you don’t!” she said, voice raised. “This thing of ours is a two-way street! You can’t shut me out like this!”

He sighed. “Eleanor-”

“Stop it, Jess. Just stop bullshitting me. Just tell me what’s really going on.”

“Look, I’m sorry if this book thing is bothering you, but I-”

“It’s not about the book!” she yelled, cutting him off and throwing her hands at her side in anger. “I know publishing a book takes time, okay? Hell, I’ve edited the book twice already! But something is up with you! Something’s been up with you for months! Just spit it the fuck out!”

“Nothing is up with me!” he countered, matching her volume. His brow was heavy with agitation. “I’m just trying to get the damn book published! What can’t you understand about that?!”

She shook her head again. “I am so sick of you making excuses, Jess! Just tell me! If you tell me, I can help you, alright?”

Something passed across his face and Ella could practically see the walls go up around his heart. “You are so much like Luke sometimes.”

“What are you talking about?” she asked, exhausted and dejected.

“Maybe I don’t have a problem, maybe you have a problem,” he said, crossing his own arms defiantly. “Maybe all of this is just so you can ignore how upset you are about what happened at Adam’s graduation.”

Ella almost took a physical step back, surprised at the accusation. “I’m not upset about that.”

“Really?” he scoffed. “Have you called your brother since then? Or Lane? Or anyone in Stars Hollow? Or have you just been too busy here trying to create problems to solve instead of the ones you already have? I mean, just look at your hands! You’ve barely got any nails left!”

“Stop trying to change the fucking subject!” she spat out, a bite growing in her voice. “What the hell are you so afraid of? Why can’t you just tell me what’s wrong so we can figure it out?”

“I’m not a project!” Jess shouted. “You can’t fix me, Eleanor!”

“I’m not trying to fix you, Jess! I’m trying to figure out what’s wrong...I’m trying to get you to talk to me before I wake up one morning and you’re gone!”

For a moment, neither of them spoke. They stood across from each other, the coffee table in between. Outside, the light continued to wane. Jess’s face flushed in embarrassment and anger.

“That was five years ago! I was a kid! My dad showed up after-”

“I know!” she shrieked. “I know! Believe me, I know! You were upset, so that made it okay for you to leave me without saying a fucking word, I know!”

“That’s not what I said!” Jess matched her volume, breathing hard.

“You didn’t have to!” she shot back. “And maybe I wouldn’t have to worry about it if you weren’t pulling your Holden Caulfield bullshit again, but you are! This is just like it was then! But, guess what? I’ve been trying so hard, but I can’t deal with it anymore! I’m not doing it again!”

His eyes darkened and a frown deepened on his face as she stormed towards the door. “Where are you going?!”

“I don’t know! Maybe to California!” she growled, tugging on her converse and throwing her bag over her shoulder again. “When you’re ready to grow the fuck up and be honest with me, then call me! If not, then just leave me the fuck alone! You’ve been getting pretty good at that recently!”

The door shut with a hard slam! behind her before Jess had a chance to respond. As soon as she was out of sight, his chest became tight. Out of breath, he felt his heart beating hard against his ribs. He almost ran after her, but he chose to relish in his anger at her instead. Clenching and unclenching his fists, he struggled to decide what to do with himself. After a moment, he looked down off the balcony and saw her car was gone. Satisfied at the low chance of running into her on the way out, he grabbed his keys and stomped out of the apartment, a five-dollar bill burning a hole in his pocket. A pack of cigarettes from the corner store was the only concrete thing on his mind.

. . .

Thumbing through Mabel’s copy of A Streetcar Named Desire, Ella tried to quiet the restless buzzing of her nerves. Almost two whole days without a call. Not that she’d expected him to come grovelling to her, begging for forgiveness. But she hadn’t expected to stay at Mabel’s the entire weekend. The air was balmy and the sky was full of thunderheads, but no raindrops had yet fallen. There was the constant threat of a summer thunderstorm, but it hadn’t yet come. She was sprawled across the light pink couch, doing her best to concentrate on the words in front of her.

Outside the window, she caught a flash of lightning out of the corner of her eye. A rumble rolled through the air, vibrating the ground. Ella sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose for a moment and staring up over at the vintage French ad hung up behind the couch. The apartment was beautiful; decked out in feminie floral patterns and extravagant accents. Mabel had welcomed Ella with open arms, even after Ella insisted she would just find a motel or something. Or perhaps go back to her and Jess’s apartment. But the idea of stepping foot through the door without Jess calling her made her blood boil. She could no longer feign ignorance, especially when she knew something was wrong. Tough love. That’s what she told herself. He just needed a dose of it, along with a bit of his own medicine.

His words echoed in her head. It was true, she hadn’t called anyone in Stars Hollow since the graduation. She didn’t care to. The thought of ever visiting the town again made her stomach do a flip, as did the thought of seeing her father once more. She had hardly had time to decipher what her actual feelings were, between the summer camp job and her worry over Jess. She only knew they were unpleasant, and she didn’t much care to dwell on them. Was it worth it to think about it more? Was she just projecting? Certainly she wasn’t. Something was up with Jess. It had been for a while and there was no denying it. But she couldn’t shake the pit of guilt in her stomach. Part of her knew he was right; at least somewhat. It would all have been better if she had been able to talk it out with Jess, if they were able to press pause on the fight somehow and just be best friends. But they couldn’t. It was the hardest part of being away from him, and it made her feel even more bitter.

Everything would be so much easier if he didn’t loom so large in her heart. She would care less about her constant, sinking worry about him leaving. About him realizing he wasn’t happy and taking off for somewhere new without a word. Or any other consequence of whatever his recent problem had been. His inability to open up to her as he once had. An amorphous, nondescript fear which was recently always whispering in the back of her mind. Having the time to ruminate on her thoughts for such long periods of alone time, with Mabel off at work, seemed to only be making her feel more conflicted. And Ella was aware actors sometimes had erratic hours, but Mabel had been at Sunday night rehearsal for five hours.

Her sketchbook had not seen such angry, horrifying drawings in a significant number of months. At times, the thought that this was the fight which would break them up crept into her mind. Surely he would be able to find someone less quarrelsome, who would be more patient for him. She wasn’t it.

The sound of her cell phone broke through her train of furious and fearful thoughts. She jumped slightly, startled at the noise. She put the book aside without saving the page; it was no use trying to read. Her heart jumped into her throat for a moment, wondering if Jess had somehow managed to call her just as she was thinking about him. But when she made it to the kitchen table and looked at the screen, she deflated. It was Matthew.

“Hello?” she answered, hand on one hip of her faded blue dress, borrowed from Mabel. Mabel was taller than her, and the dress hung loosely on her frame. The only clothes she’d brought with her were the ones on her back as she left the apartment, now stale and stuffed into her purse.

“Ella? Are you still at Mabel’s?” Matthew asked, voice with a slight, frantic edge.

She furrowed her brows. “Yeah? Why?”

“Look, Jess said you guys are fighting. So, I don’t know and I...can you get over here?” Matthew said, struggling to get the words out.

Ella felt her nerves beginning to course through her veins. “What’s wrong?”

He sighed through the receiver. “We were at Truncheon having a few drinks. Everything was normal. But then Jess started getting really upset and now he’s saying he can’t breathe and he’s shaking like crazy. But he won’t let us take him to the ER or anything, and-”

“Okay, just hang on. I’ll be there in ten minutes. Try to get him to drink some water and tell him I’m coming,” Ella instructed him, phone between her ear and her shoulder as she slipped her shoes on and grabbed her bag.

“Is he okay? He said he was fine, but-”

“Yes, Matthew. He’s fine. Just don’t panic and keep him calm until I get there,” she continued hastily, locking Mabel’s door and shutting it behind her. She’d have to shoot Mabel a text as soon as she got off the phone. She was just starting to pick up on the slight slur in Matthew’s words. He could handle his alcohol much better than Chris or Jess could, but she still felt herself doubting whether Matthew was capable of helping Jess through a panic attack at all if both of them were plastered.

“I’ll try,” Matthew said, noncommittal, before bidding her goodbye and hanging up.

Her face was set in determination as she rushed down the stairs of the apartment building, texting as she went. As she hurried out the front door and tried not to let her car keys slip through her fingers, she felt the first drops of rain finally falling.

. . .

The drizzle had turned to a downpour by the time Ella made it to Truncheon, nearly tripping on the sidewalk in her worn converse as she ran from her car to the front door. She was met with the aged, familiar smell of the main room as she entered, immediately heading for the stairs. Her steps were heavy and she was damp and out of breath when she made it to the door of the apartment. She didn’t bother knocking. Instantly, she saw both Chris and Matthew huddled together across the living room, casting nervous glances at Jess, who sat on the couch with his hand on his chest. Several empty green beer bottles sat on the coffee table, glowing lowly in the yellowish light of the lamps. A full glass of water, untouched, also sat on the table directly in front of Jess. Ella shook her head softly and clicked her tongue in concern, throwing her bag down by the door and going to Jess.

His eyes were glassy, and she saw a couple tear tracks shining on his stubbly cheeks. The words tumbled from his mouth in short, panting bursts. “Elle...you...we’re fighting...don’t-”

“Hey, Mariano, don’t worry about it, okay?” she said, offering him a small smile. She sat down on the couch next to him, so close their knees were almost brushing each other. She kept her tone and face even as she looked over her shoulder at Chris and Matthew. “How long has he been like this?”

Chris blinked at her hard a couple of times before processing her question. He squinted down at his watch. “About twenty minutes. Maybe more.”

Ella nodded, facing Jess again. She could smell the scent of beer wafting off of him. It was the drunkest she had seen him in a long time. “Okay, that means the worst is probably over. And you’ll be fine in just a few minutes.”

He shook his head, hands trembling violently. Chills rolled through his body, making him shake more. The palms of his hands were slick with sweat. His chest was tight and painful, and there was a wild fear in the back of his mind that he was having a heart attack. He had never had a panic attack which felt so intense before. Intoxication certainly wasn’t helping. When it first started, he had truly wondered if he was about to die.

“I…” he began, swallowing harshly, “I told them...not to call you...I-I don’t…”

“Cutie, don’t worry, okay?” she repeated, soothing and slow. “Can I touch you?”

“Y-yeah,” he replied after a moment, shaking so bad his teeth were nearly chattering.

Her kind smile grew a little as she cupped his face with her hands, wiping his tears with the pads of her thumbs. “Hey, just listen to me. Everything is fine. You are wasted. And you’re having a panic attack. But everything’s okay. You are okay. All you have to do is breathe, Jess.”

“I can’t-”

Before he could continue, she shifted her hands from his face to his wrists. Gently, she brought his hands to her chest and began breathing, long and slow, just as she had at the courthouse months earlier. He began to mimic the rise and fall of her chest as soon as he recognized her movements.

“Breathe with me, honey,” she said. Then, she began counting in fives as she inhaled and exhaled. She could feel Jess’s tremors with his hands in her grasp.

About five minutes of breathing, and the fire in his lungs finally began to burn out. He was still having trouble catching himself and his breath, but the tears had stopped. He did his best to choke out even words.

“I’m fine, Elle,” he said.

“You sure?” she asked, releasing his wrists.

His gaze was wavering, but he nodded and sniffled, running a hand over his mouth. “Yeah.”

“Okay. Good. You did so good, James Dean,” she murmured, leaning in with her hands on either side of his face again, pressing a long kiss to his forehead. She smoothed circles over his back as he turned forwards again, finally taking a few sips of water. From their spot across the room, Matthew and Chris still looked unsure, nervous. Ella shot them another smile. “Everything’s fine, guys. Thank you for calling me.”

“And here’s hoping you’re both too drunk to remember this tomorrow,” Jess muttered, downing the rest of his water and staring down at the carpet with a flush of embarrassment reddening his cheeks.

Matthew only shrugged sheepishly.

“Oh, I definitely am,” Chris said, nodding. His eyes were bloodshot against his pale skin, and he had a goofy grin on his lips.

Ella rolled her eyes. “Shocker.”

Breathing a sigh, Jess rubbed drunkenly at his eyes with the heels of his hands.

After another moment of slightly awkward silence, she rose from her seat and held a hand out to Jess. “Let’s go home.”

Jess bit at his bottom lip, his mind swimming. “Really?”

“Really.”

. . .

In the morning, rain was still pattering steadily on the roof of the apartment building. Drops raced down the window in the bedroom, glistening with muddled gray light from the cloudy sky. The constant shower warmed Ella’s ears, mixing with the whisper of her name, as she crawled out of her dreamy sleep. For a moment, her heart sank into her stomach. She wondered briefly if Jess was waking her up because of another nightmare, another panic attack. But her fear dissipated as she cracked her eyes open, blinking a few times, and saw Jess sitting upright on the side of the bed, facing her.

He didn’t look particularly rested, but his brown eyes were clear with sobriety, if red. She could see the slightly greenish tint of his skin. The severity of his hangover didn’t surprise her. After practically dragging him up the stairs, he’d collapsed on the bed before she could shove any pills down his throat. The best she could do was prop him on his side, pillows in a protective wall behind his back as he snored. The recovery position. She remembered it from the times he’d put her to bed.

“Hey,” he said quietly as she finally awoke.

She cleared her throat, sitting up against the headboard. “Hi.”

Licking his lips, Jess brought one nervous hand out from behind his back. In it, he held a bouquet of dark purple tulips. Slowly, she took them, raising a doubtful eyebrow. It was still pretty early, and she wondered if the sun had even been up whenever he’d gone out to buy them for her.

“There’s thirteen,” Jess said as she inspected the flowers. “For good luck.”

She laughed half-heartedly. “Thank you,” she said, taking one last look at them before placing them on the nightstand beside her. “Pretty Nora Ephron. Even for you.”

“Look,” Jess began, glancing away from her with shame. Her voice didn’t have any anger, but also held no amusement. She sounded tired in a way that struck him and made even more guilt weigh on his shoulders. “I’m really sorry. About all of it. I know I’ve been kind of a wackjob. I’ve been freaking out and having those nightmares and-”

“That’s not anything you need to be sorry for,” Ella interjected, tone firm but not unpleasant. Her face was stoic as she waited for him to continue, raking her fingers through her hair.

He swallowed thickly, then went on. “And I’ve been shutting you out and...I’m sorry I didn’t call. I started to about a million times, but I just...I didn’t want you...to be disappointed in me. Though I know you already are. I wasn’t ready to...have to hear it.”

She felt slightly taken aback. Such naked, plain speech seemed like a rarity for Jess. Usually, his inner world was cloaked in metaphor and wit as a makeshift mask. But, in the gloomy light of the morning, she was seeing him just as he was. And, this time, he was actively deciding to show her.

“Jess, I’m not…” she paused for a moment to take a deep breath and collect her words, “I’m not disappointed in you. Not even a little bit. I’m just...I’m so worried about you. And it’s fucking...it’s just so fucking difficult to have to sit back and watch you...put yourself through something you don’t have to be going through alone.”

“I know,” he said solemnly, nodding.

“And I know I push you. I mean, I’ve pretty much always pushed everyone. I’m sorry I’m not patient enough with you sometimes,” she said, biting at the inside of her cheek. “But, seriously, Mariano, I feel like I kept quiet as long as I could on this one.”

Jess let a small, fond smirk pass over his lips. “I know, Stevens. It’s not your fault. I didn’t mean to...sometimes it’s just hard for me to actually listen when you’re telling me something I don’t wanna hear.”

She matched his smile. “Well, that’s because you’re a jackass.”

He shrugged. “I’ve made my peace with it.”

Ella chuckled in response, smoothing her hands over the gray quilt which still covered her lower half. “As valiant of an effort as the flowers and the apology were, Jess, I’m still more interested in what’s wrong. Whatever it is...it’s okay. Just...please tell me.”

Nodding again, Jess ran a hand over his mouth. He brought his legs up from the side of the bed and sat cross-legged in front of her, their knees only inches apart. “Ever since Doula was born...I just can’t stop thinking about my mom and...everything that happened in New York. I mean, when Liz was pregnant it wasn’t great. But since we met Doula? Since I actually got to see her...it’s just been so much worse. When I think about her having to...fight with a stepdad, or get left with some stranger across the hall, or wander the library alone all day while Liz goes off to work or God knows where else…”

Ella placed a hand on the knee of his jeans as he paused. He bit down hard on his lip again. He didn’t feel as though he deserved that kind of affection from her after what had happened over the past few days. But he swallowed down the nerves which rose in his throat and continued.

“I just keep remembering and thinking about it and...I can’t get it to stop sometimes. And now I’m even remembering in my sleep...I’m remembering so clearly. It’s like...there’s never gonna be an end. I’m never gonna actually get away from it all,” he explained sheepishly, fighting the lump in his throat and the way the tips of his ears burned.

“Hey, James Dean,” she said, and he finally looked up to meet her eyes again. “You did get away from it. You did. I know it doesn’t feel like that sometimes, but you did. No matter how bad you’re feeling, you’re safe now. We’re both safe now.”

He scoffed out a doubtful, tearful laugh, but managed to keep himself together. Sometimes, the simplest reminders hit him the hardest, shocked him the most.

“And we can figure this out, okay?” Ella continued earnestly. “I know you still don’t have insurance, but this is a big city. There’s bound to be some kind of free service somewhere. And even if we can’t find anything right away, I’m always here. You can talk to me. Whatever it is. Whenever it is. I’m not gonna be as good as an actual counselor, but I’ll do my best until we can find you one. I’ll do some research.”

“Okay.”

“Seriously, Jess,” she said sternly. “I need you to hear me on this. I want you to talk to me. Nothing you could say would disappoint me, or anything like that. I mean, I know you got attacked by a swan. What could be more embarrassing than that?”

He rolled his eyes, shaking his head a little, though he couldn’t hide his amusement. “My God, every chance you can get...”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” she said. “But it’s just too easy sometimes.”

“Says the girl who once took a bite out of a decorative apple.”

“Says the boy who took a whole month to figure out how to pull a coin out of my ear,” she retorted.

Then, with a moment of giggles exchanged between them, Jess’s expression shifted back to one of sincerity. “I’m sorry, Elle.”

“It’s okay,” she replied easily. “I’m sorry, too. I know it’s not like it was in high school. I know you’re not gonna leave. I trust you. Sometimes...I just get so caught up and I don’t...sometimes I forget who we are now and I go back to being the little girl whose mom died overnight and whose dad never calls.”

Jess tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear with an affectionate gaze. “But, hey, she turned out to be the next Georgia O’Keefe. With a dash of Morticia Addams.”

Ella shrugged. “Her boyfriend exaggerates, but she’s trying.”

“Thank you,” he said after a comfortable beat of silence. “For last night and...pretty much everything else since the day we met.”

She snorted a laugh at his hyperbole, rolling her eyes. “Don’t mention it.”

#jess mariano #jess #mariano #gilmore girls #gilmore #gilmore girls fanfiction #jess mariano fanfiction #jess mariano imagines #jess mariano x oc fanfiction #jess mariano x oc #gilmore girls au #gilmore girls oc #jess mariano au

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feferipeixes · 4 years

Note

Mizar doesn't exist in heavy Quarantine. Mabel prefers not to get involved, aside from helping children Dipper will bring back. She never makes a name for herself, at least not one associated with Alcor, and the Woodsman wouldn't exist either. Twin Souls wouldn't exist, and many thing like RRR or SYWTBAD would never happen. Dipper is almost always in a 12 year old form, and his alias, Alcor, was something he had come up with while held in the basement, as a way of giving up.

YO GET READY FOR A LONG-ASS POST

Goshhhhh I could so easily see this being the case? Especially if you don’t consider Dipper to ever really make a recovery (like in this post’s version of events). If he’s forever trapped in that “more demon than human” state, if his mind is too broken to make a full recovery, then absolutely.

Mizar doesn’t exist because going with Dipper to enact vigilante justice isn’t really an option. Dipper is too rogue to be good at that kind of thing, and to be honest, in this version, there’s a part of Mabel that screams at her that she can’t trust Dipper not to let her get hurt. It’s not like in main TAU where the two of them knew from the start that they wanted to use Dipper’s newfound magical powers to go around helping people. Here, Mabel gets reunited with a crazed brother who seems to care more about hurting bad guys than helping innocent people, and that makes her very uncomfortable. She’ll help the children he brings back, but to be actually involved with the action is quite a different matter.

And yeah, the non-existence of Mizar has quite a ripple effect on the rest of Dipper’s future. Twin Souls wouldn’t exist because why would it – Alcor’s never been seen with a mysterious female companion. He doesn’t even have the playfulness he exhibits a lot at summons in main TAU, when he decides to mess with people by showing up at summons playing a sousaphone or carrying children. There’s much less of a reason for anyone to see anything good in him at all when all he is known for is murderdeath (although as we know from the real world, that doesn’t really stop people from loving those kinds of people…). RRR wouldn’t happen because, even if he ends up owning Mabel’s soul, he wouldn’t necessarily care too much about growing up with it again. Even if he did, I doubt it would go very well. He could end up stuck in a very childlike state even in his facsimile human body. (Orrrr it could even be bigger angst if you look at it from a nature vs nuture viewpoint and say that Dipper Sterling is pretty human, and that once he breaks apart and becomes Alcor again all of that is lost and his family is heartbroken).

There are so many other Mizar arcs too that just wouldn’t happen. He’d have a lot of other ways to entertain himself over the years, especially if he’s more comfortable with letting his demonic nature loose than he is in main TAU. And SYWTBAD wouldn’t happen because he’s just not whimsical in this timeline. He doesn’t think “oh it’d be fun to make a bunch of friends and graduate from school.” He wouldn’t already be friends with Lucy Ann, so no one would’ve been there to dare him to do it anyway. And yeah, the Woodsman wouldn’t exist. Why would he? Willow didn’t survive being born, so there was no one who needed saving in Caney Patch that day. T_T

And finally yesssssss “almost always in his 12 year old form” is suuuuper angsty and I think entirely appropriate, because it represents how he doesn’t feel like an adult. That’s a rather human concept, anyway, adulthood and maturity, and there’s not too much humanity left in him. He’s got the odd flight of empathy for children and Mabel, but he doesn’t truly feel it. If he ever takes on an adult form, it’d be only because he thinks it’ll help him con a summoner better. Naming himself Alcor while his mind is dissolving is also BIG ANGST. It comes at the point at which he knows he’s never getting out of there, when he knows Ford won’t trust him or believe him and even worse when he’s cognizant enough to realize that something’s happening to his mind, it’s deteriorating and he doesn’t know why and he’s scared. He thinks he’s dying, and in a way, he’s right.

—

All that being said, my hc is that Dipper is able to recover in heavy Quarantine. It’s a long and difficult road, but Mabel and Henry and Stan (especially Mabel) are able to regain his trust. They’re able to show him that it’s safe to be a person, that he’s still Dipper underneath it all, and moreover that he can regain all the love and humanity he lost. And in this version of events, I think things turn out very differently.

Mizar and cultbashing look very different here than in main TAU, but I still think they’d happen after a while. There’s just so much injustice in the world and so many cultists trying to do bad things. I hc that Mabel still gets into boxing and working out in this timeline even before she finds Dipper, so it wouldn’t be like she’s entirely unprepared to go cultbashing with him. He definitely wouldn’t want to do it at first but as he gains more access to his empathy again I think it’d be hard for him not to. There’d be a lot of close calls, and sometimes they’d face something that would set Dipper back a lot (a mean cultist with a binding circle that feels just a bit too tight around his neck) and it’d be another long night with him in his 12 year old form rocking back and forth and Mabel comforting him but not hugging him because when he gets like that he can’t stand to feel constricted.

Speaking of his 12 year old form, I really love the idea that he looks like a 12 year old when Mabel finds him. He’s had no template (Mabel) to age himself up with, and moreover he’s had no reason to change how he looks. He’s just trying to get himself out of this prison he’s been trapped in and as time goes on he cares less and less about his appearance. I hc that his demonic puberty coincidentally happens at the same time as his mind starting to deteriorate, and that Ford takes this as a sign that he was right and that this demon’s masquerade is falling. The awesome @diddlydarndoodles drew newly freed heavy Quarantine Dipper as having blackened hands/claws and his forearms having brickwork markings on them, like he’s a little bit into his void form, and I love this. He’s still Dipper, he’s still recognizably Dipper, but he’s so injured that he’s even starting to forget how to maintain his appearance. And it’s so horrifyingly angsty for Mabel to find him this way when she does. How he looks is a representation of his state of mind and it just goes to show both how small he feels and how injured his mind is. So to me, him starting to take on a more adult look as he makes strides in his recovery is massive. It represents him actually being able to feel like an adult, which, for someone as traumatized as him, speaks volumes and I love it so much.

Twin Souls would be different, considering how Alcor, in many early appearances, looks like a child whereas Mizar looks like an adult. I hope and pray that it would be less of a popular thing, if it exists at all, than in main TAU. The Woodsman might exist, because Willow survives in this version, but Dipper isn’t as involved in the triplets’ early lives (because he’s still recovering, still easily overwhelmed, and until he’s recovered enough to go out and about I’d say any time he spends with the triplets is supervised so that both he and them are safe), and because of this, there might be fewer pro-nats trying to take out the Pines family. Thus, the Caney Patch Massacre might not even happen. If it does, the Woodsman might happen (and I’m sure that would be a Huge setback for Dipper because now he’s scared of what he’s done to Henry), or it might not and everyone would just get a taste of how truly frightening and vicious this poor traumatized demon Dipper can be when his family is threatened.

SYWTBAD could still happen, especially because after he recovers, Dipper is pretty sad about all the stuff he wanted to do as a human and not only never got to do, but never even got to watch Mabel do. Lucy Ann might still dare him to go to college as a demonologist, and he might still do it and just be a lot meeker. He could still make friends, but gosh I think the whole scene with him and Elisabeth and Thomas getting kidnapped would go a lot worse. And finally, RRR? That would totally happen and I think it would be beautiful. He’d again be a much meeker child, but he’d finally get to have an upbringing where he feels safe and loved. I want all the happy endings for this sweet, hurt child.

Anyway! Hope you enjoy this HECK TON of HC’s for two different versions of the heavy variant. If you can’t tell, I love Quarantine AU a lot. ✨

#gravity falls #transcendence au #quarantine au #heavy variant #long post #my stuff #anonymous #although i'm pretty sure you're jinx :)#Anonymous

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catxtopia · 4 years

Text

Lips Of a Stranger} Chp. 10

Author: catxtopia

Ship: Billdip ((fluffy))

Characters: Dipper Pines, Mabel Pines, Bill Cipher, Gideon Gleeful

Summary: The Night Vale AU no one asked for.

Author notes: I am back on my bullshit, lets finish this.

Read: ao3

((HOHO Betcha thought you saw the last of me.

Four years late but hey I fricken finished this shit! I sat down literally yesterday after a kind person commented that they still wait for updates on this story (srsly so sorry and you're so sweet holly heck, never say comments don't totally motivate a writer) and finished this. I already had this chapter written many years ago but I didn't wanna post it until I finished the rest (so sorry for my dumb past self). So this one sounds pretty much the same as the rest of the story, however cannot confirm for the rest of the work.

I haven't written in ages, I don't particularly like writing anymore if I am being honest. I am not great at it but I have a lot of ideas lmao. So I just wanna preface that the ending... probably not great lol. I will have a full report on the last chapter, however, on my old ideas for this story and what I thought it could be. There is probably a lot of plot holes and unanswered things but I tried^^;;;

Anyways, I'll upload either every day or every other day depending. But this shall finally be finished lads! (also no beta, we're animals here)))

“You found it!?”

Lying still, yet menacingly, on the kitchen table was a maroon journal with a black number 1 inked firmly in the center. It was larger than an average book and much worse for wear, the red leather was ripped and mystery blotches were smudged in several different locations on the cover. Mabel and Dipper stood around the object that had been of desire for so long. Neither made a move to touch it, treating it like an old relic—which it very well could have been as far as Dipper knew.

“Yeah, it was in this wired compartment in a tree outside.” Dipper scratched lightly at his chin, eyes roaming over the book. His fingers itched with curiosity for he had yet to open and examine the contents inside. He wasn’t sure if he should, waiting for Cipher seemed like the logical option but that required calling the man, followed by seeing him again, and the thought of meeting gold eyes sent his stomach through all kinds of loops. Thus, his phone stayed promptly in his pocket where it felt like it weighed a thousand pounds.

“Compartment in a tree, huh?” Mabel repeated, a confused look crossing her face. She, too, moved her hand to rub lightly at her chin in thought. “How’d you come across that?”

Dipper stiffened ever so slightly, and then casted a glance at his intrigued sister. He cleared his throat and shifted to stuff his hands in his pockets roughly. “I just, ya know, fell against it.” He shrugged, trying his best to remain cool—which was, to say, impossible when it came to Dipper Pines.

“Fell against it, hm?” Mabel’s eyebrow slowly started rising.

“Yes, I fell against it!” Dipper sputtered, looking away towards the book again. “The details of how I found the book aren’t important. What is important is that I found it !”

Mabel stifled her giggles as much as her lips would allow. “Whatever you say, Bro bro.” She mused and leaned over the dusty object, intentionally ignoring the tomato that was now her brother beside her. He’d been through enough teasing this morning, she’d let him off the hook this once. “What do you thinks inside?”

Dipper leaned back against the kitchen counter, crossing his arms over his chest. “No idea.” He quietly thought back to the times he and Cipher were looking for said book. A distant memory of going to the junkyard and the words black magic and demons , danced in the back of his mind but he elected to ignore those warnings. If the book really was dangerous, there was no way Cipher would be looking for it. At least that’s what Dipper told himself.

“Are you going to open it?” Mabel quirked a brow, eyes not leaving the book.

Dipper shifted against the counter. “I don’t know, Mabes. Maybe we should wait for Cipher to open it first.”

Mabel pursed her lips and squinted at the book.

There was a long pause, the only sound being whispers from the TV playing in the other room. Then Mabel, with a big intake of breath, announced loudly: “I am gonna open it.” And quickly flipped the front cover open.

“Mabel!” Dipper yelped, but his words fell on deaf ears as the young girl turned another page, and then another. “Mabes, seriously, be careful with it! We don’t know what it is, it could be super old and crumble at human touch! Who knows what—”

As Dipper rambled on and on, Mabel’s quick movements tentatively began to slow. She flipped only one more page before stopping and taking in a soft gasp, voice riddled with distraught. “Oh my gosh.” She whispered breathlessly. Dipper paused in his ranting, staring at the back of his sister's head since he couldn’t see the book around her. “I can’t believe this.”

“What?” He inquired, a drop of unease plopping into the pits of his stomach. Mabel’s shoulders were tense; body rigged with what Dipper could only assume was fear. She looked as though she was witnessing a demon rise out from the pits of hell, or at the very least like her sweaters were being set aflame. And throughout it all, all Dipper could hear were McGucket’s warnings ringing loud and clear inside his jumbled head. “That books bad news I tell ya! Black magic, raising devils, kinda bad news! Nothin good ever came out of that thing.” Dipper cringed at the voice. “What is it?”

“It’s terrible…” Mabel whispered, leaning further over the book. Her hair draped over the yellowing pages, eyes hidden behind thick bangs. “Cipher, he’s…”

“What? What about Cipher?” Dipper stepped closer. He could feel his heart thump a little faster with each step he took towards his sister.

“He’s a…” The girl moved back, turning swiftly to face her brother. Her face was red and cheeks puffed out, eyes leaking frustrated tears and— “ He’s a giant nerd just like you!” She exclaimed dramatically, throwing one hand towards the opened journal and another over her stomach as she doubled over laughing.

Dipper stared, dumbfounded as his sister flopped onto the tabled to keep from falling onto the floor. She was wheezing and stomped a foot every so often, trying to regain her breathing. He couldn’t believe this. “Mabel.” Dipper squinted hard at the girl. The only answer he got was more laughing and a few arm flails. “Mabel, you jerk.” Dipper sighed, but a small smile was tugging at his lips.

“Oh! Oh!” Mabel giggled, laughter beginning to die out into soft gasps. “Oh my gosh, yo- your face!”

“Yeah, yeah.” Dipper rolled his eyes. “You got me.” Behind his ribs, his heart was still pounding with adrenaline. He willed his limbs to stop their jittery shakes and calm the hell down. There was nothing to worry about, Mabel was just being her usual dork self. He looked towards the open book finally, now being able to get a good view of it. “So what’s in this thing, anyways?”

Having calmed down a bit, Mabel slipped across the kitchen in her fluffy pink socks, clamped onto the fridge handle and yanked it open to retrieve a can of Pit Cola. She juggled it in her hands, closing the door again with her hip. As she snapped the can open she explained lightly, “Looks like a dictionary for supernatural stuff to me. Really wired, it’s all hand written and stuff.” She paused and took a big gulp of her drink.

Dipper nodded and examined the scribbles and notes about different creatures. His eyes widened the further he flipped from page to page, completely entranced with the object sitting before him. It was no wonder Cipher wanted this thing, the stories he could produce with the book would be endless!

“This is amazing.” Dipper breathed. Gnomes, Zombies, Ghosts, this book was like a paranormal junkies Holy Grail.

Mabel hummed and jumped up onto the counter. “It makes sense why Cipher would want this. I am sure he will be happy you found it.” She mused, swinging her legs back and forth to the rhythm of a song stuck in her head. “Now you guys don’t have to go searching anymore! That’ll probably be a big nuisance off his shoulders.”

Dipper hummed absentmindedly as he drew his finger along the edge of the book, a thin layer of dust bunched up and latched onto his finger. He pulled his hand back, pinching the ball of dirt between his thumb and index finger till the grains rolled off his skin. He wondered briefly how long the book had been in that tree for, and for what reason.

“No more long hours trekking through stores and the occasional dumpster. I wonder if this old thing will help him with his work, or if that’s even what he wanted it for.” Mabel muttered against the rim of her soda can.

Dipper’s fingers instantly stilled, entire body freezing like someone had pushed a pause button on the boy’s life. No more long hours trekking through stores and the occasional dumpster . The words bounced around in his head several times and every repeat left a horrible taste in his mouth. He gulped and dropped his hand, brushing it harshly against his faded jeans. “Yeah, don’t know.” He bit out.

A minute ago he’d been excited to see Cipher’s reaction to his discovery, because damn it he was proud! And maybe boasting a little in the ego department. Now dread was filling up his core. No more time with Cipher…

Mabel slurped at her drink loudly, oblivious to the way her brother scooped up the book with a hesitant hand. “So, when are you gonna tell him?” She looked up past her wavy bangs, confused to find Dipper retreating towards the stairs at a quick pace. “Dipper?”

.:.:.

Dipper paced along the length of his bedroom, feet scuffing against the hardwood floor. He could practically feel the wood splintering away with each step he took. It was only a matter of time before he’d run a rut in the floor. He could hardly bring himself to care; however, as he gnawed at his thumbnail in a simple attempt to help distract his brain.

This was stupid, Dipper was stupid. He could hardly believe he was even thinking about the train of thought that he was. Not telling Cipher about the book? What kind of nonsense was that? He had to; it was his moral duty to give up the journal to the radio host. Otherwise, everything they’d done together thus far would be for nothing. The whole reason Dipper was being kept around was for the sole purpose of finding the book.

And once you give the book up, you won’t have a reason to be around Cipher anymore , Dipper thought sullenly. He turned once he paced as far as he could towards the door, changing direction to continue shuffling back the route he came towards the triangle window above his bed. It was a vicious cycle, this back and forth, back and forth. All the while he kept his eyes glued on the ground. He paused when his irises caught sight of a neatly folded pile of clothes at the end of his bed. Black jacket, pants, yellow scarf… A flash of blonde hair and the feel of rough bark against his back blurred past his eyes.

There would probably be no more of that once he gave up the book. Dipper lightly drew a finger against his chapped lips. If he thought hard enough he could still feel the pressure Cipher’s smooth lips had left against his own.

“Oh man.” Dipper mumbled aloud. Here he was worrying over some scraps of paper sewn together, while he should be questioning the fluttering in his chest from earlier interactions.

Cipher had kissed him and he’d be lying if he didn’t say he thoroughly enjoyed it. Both Mabel and Pacifica will be delighted to rub it in his face once they find out.

Dipper dropped onto his bed with a frustrated groan. Everything was happening all so suddenly, so fast he couldn’t make left or right of the images flashing before his eyes. And it was all because of that darn radio host with his perfect golden hair and otherworldly eyes. Not to mention his lean body that fit so right against Dipper’s the night before, warm like a blanket and oh so comfortable… Dipper shook his head quickly, expelling any further thoughts of Cipher’s body.

Really, Cipher was too handsome for his own good. It was practically supernatural.

Dipper snorted at the thought and fell back against the bed. He stared up at the ceiling, a soft sigh fluttering past his lips. What to do, what to do. He slid his hands up to rest on his chest and began tapping his fingers against his worn shirt.

“So you tell him.” Dipper muttered to himself. “You tell him about the book. It’ll make him happy, probably further his show somehow and bring in more listeners, which will make his work life better.” His fingers paused in their tapping, then slowly started picking up a rhythm again as he let another thought enter his mind. “Or you don’t tell him, you continue looking for the book as if you haven’t already found it and grow closer. Eventually he’ll forget about the book and move on, which will make his personal life better.”

“You don’t tell him and possibly ruin his career .” A voice that sounded eerily similar to Mabel’s rumbled in the back on his head. Ah, the voice of reason. It was bound to come poking its ugly face in here eventually.

“I don’t necessarily know if it’s for his show.” Dipper grumbled, sinking a little further against his bed. Great now he was talking to himself.

“What else would he need it so badly for?”

“I don’t know, curiosity? For a collection, maybe? His life revolves around the supernatural; it’s not that farfetched to want a journal filled on the subject.”

“So you’d rather keep the object of his desire away from him, in the hopes you become that object for him instead. That’s quite selfish.”

“Well no one asked you.” Dipper huffed and rolled onto his side. He stared aimlessly out the triangular window nearby. The sun had already begun to drip close to the tree line, casting an array of colors throughout his room. It was beautiful, really, all oranges and reds, and the occasional pink glow scattering across the shack's rustic interior. His eyes followed the colorful trail of light right back to the pile of clothes at the end of his bed. He stared at the yellow scarf for a long while before he worked up the strength to reach for it.

The fabric was so soft, softer than anything he’d felt before. It was probably really expensive. Dipper tugged the material fully into his palms and laid back down. He held onto the scarf like a blanket, running the pads of his fingers over the kind stitching. “Maybe he won’t leave once he has the book.” Dipper thought aloud once again. He was starting to make a habit out of talking to himself apparently.

It wasn’t like he wanted to keep information from Cipher, especially news that’d make him happy. The paranoia engraved deep in his soul that the man would eventually forget about him if they had no reason to be around each other was just too overpowering. Even though there was a good chance Cipher liked hanging around Dipper for Dipper and not just for his searching skills. It was a big chance, honestly. You don’t just kiss someone you plan on ditching. Cipher seemed like a better person than that, anyways.

But doubt was always louder than hope.

With a quick glance at the clock—which already read 5:10PM—Dipper decided he’d allow himself to sleep on it. It was already late so there was no use calling up Cipher now; he wouldn’t be able to come by until tomorrow anyways.

Settling on that, Dipper rolled over and closed his eyes. Super wouldn’t be ready for another hour or so and a nap sounded like a pleasant idea in the meantime.

.:.:.

Three days.

It’d been three days since Dipper found the old journal hidden in a tree. The journal, which a certain radio host had yet to know, was within Dipper’s possession. It had been shamefully tucked away in the brunet’s desk under a pile of scrap papers. It wasn’t the greatest hiding spot by any means, but Dipper didn’t feel comfortable leaving the relic under his bed or somewhere in his closet. At least in his desk, the book didn’t face any chances of getting ruined.

He stuck the poor book in the bottom drawer with the intention of returning to it in a week – because a night to sleep on deciding to give the book to Cipher just wasn’t enough. He simply wanted a little more time with the radio host to assure he wouldn’t ditch him. That was reason enough, right? In one week time, the book would be given to the blonde man. Until then, Dipper proclaimed he’d live with the guilt and enjoy some downtime with the host.

And what a glorious three days it had been so far. Cipher had been spending a large majority of the days hanging around Dipper’s work again. They’d continued their little routine, but the silence was filled with a lot more bashful glances and sly smiles. The kiss hadn’t been officially mentioned, but the implication that both of them equally enjoyed it and wouldn’t mind doing it again was pretty clearly expressed.

When Dipper wasn’t shackled to his job at the bookstore – and Cipher by extension – they usually ended up spending time around town or the radio station. Very rarely were they away from each other’s side. Not that either was complaining. However, every so often when Dipper would glance Cipher’s way, he’d feel a ball of guilt nibbling away at the core of his stomach. He couldn’t help thinking about the things he was hiding from the man. It didn’t feel right, but at the same time he couldn’t bring himself to do anything about it.

“Do you like your job?”

Cipher blinked open his eyes and tilted his head a little towards the brunet lying somberly beside him. They’d been lying outside on a patch of drying grass a short ways from the radio station, simply enjoying the last few drops of autumn. The sun was high above them, basking them in a nice enough warmth that they only needed light jackets. Cipher was currently wearing the sweatshirt he had borrowed from Dipper a few days prior, having yet to give it up. Not that Dipper really cared, he felt slightly prideful seeing the radio host wearing something of his.

Cipher shifted his arms, which lay beneath his head. “Yeah, I guess you could say that.” He looked back towards the calm blue sky. “It’s fun, I like being able to talk about whatever the hell I want for a living. I am not the biggest fan of having to hide behind a curtain all the time, but it comes with the job.”

Dipper hummed, mulling over that information. He flicked his fingers against the zipper on his jacket. “Why do you have to be so secretive? I doubt anyone would like… attack you or something if they knew who you were.”

Cipher chuckled and turned on his side, arm bent and hand holding up his head. Dipper moved in a similar fashion so that they both faced each other. “There are a few reasons. Gideon thinks having me be unnamed makes me more mysterious, that not only the show holds secrets but even the host does.” He shrugged. “Plus, I like being able to live my life without interruptions. I would get annoyed pretty quickly if people were stopping me on the streets or spewing nonsense about me in teen magazines.”

Dipper twirled his fingers around a few blades of grass, tugging them lazily as he listened. “And here I thought you liked attention.”

“Oh don’t get me wrong, I do! I would love people bending at my every need, but I have standards. I wouldn’t be able to sit here with you like this if I was open about my identity, and that’s not something I am quite willing to give up.”

“I guess that… makes sense.” Dipper pondered. “So you’re a man full of secrets then?”

“I am a man with many angles and lots of knowledge of various topics, who happens to also like having a private life, so if that makes me secretive then I guess I am. However, since I like you I’ll tell you my secrets,” Cipher leaned forward, lips curving into a seductive smirk. “for a price~”

Dipper’s cheeks flushed a soft pink, “Oh really? And what’s your price, Cipher?” He mused, putting up his best confident front.

“Hmmm,” Cipher’s eyes flickered from Dipper’s eyes to his lips then quickly back again. “I don’t know, it’d probably have to be something really pricey since I’ve got a lot of secrets.”

Dipper snorted and rolled his eyes, “What like my soul?” He joked and playfully wiggled his eyebrows.

If one were to have blinked in that moment they probably would have missed the way Cipher’s eyes widened and sparked with wonder for a fraction of a second. He continued to smirk at his companion before rolling onto his back to stare up at the sky once again. “Something like that.” He hummed pleasantly. “I am sure your soul would be a beauty.”

Dipper scoffed and flopped over onto his stomach, arms crossing beneath his chin. He closed his eyes and snuggled a little deeper in his jacket. “Don’t all souls look the same? Like a smoking white ball.”

“I think you’ve been playing too many video games.” Cipher flicked at the edge of Dipper’s ear, earning a small yelp and glare from the boy. “Souls come in all colors and shapes, kid. The more corrupted the soul, the worse it looks. What the world considers ‘sinners’ usually look black, less smoky, more goopy. Like a ball of hot, bubbling tar. While good people are bright, wispy, and usually emit a color.”

“You seem to know a lot about this.” Dipper mumbled into the curve of his arm.

Cipher chuckled under his breath. “Call it a passion of mine.”

The two fell into a comfortable silence after that, lying happily beside each other with only the whispers of wind and occasional tweet of a bird filling the silence. They lay close enough that their arms brushed and with a little maneuvering their hands slipped into each other without question.

It was nice, being able to be together like this without any distractions. To simply enjoy each other’s company. Dipper really didn’t want to let this go, and yet as he peeked past his bangs at the still figure beside him, he knew that he would.

“Hey, Cipher.” Dipper said just barely above a whisper. He watched the blonde’s eyebrow twitch but his eyes remained closed.

“Hm?”

“I gotta tell you something, it’s kind of important, it’s about the b—”

Just as the words were about to flutter out of his mouth, a shrill ring of a phone smacked Dipper’s train of thought straight from his head. His lips latched shut and eyes looked down at Cipher’s glowing pocket, which the man was quickly moving to reach.

He flicked the device on and squinted at the screen as if it had personally offended him. Whether that was because it had interrupted Dipper or not, the boy wasn’t sure.

“Sorry, just an email.” Cipher’s expression lightened considerably as he turned the screen to face Dipper. “Look at this cat jumping in and out of boxes! Giffy sent it. Cats are so silly!”

True to his word, there was a cat hopping into different sized boxes with a small message from Giffany at the bottom of the screen. Dipper smiled softly at the ridiculous video. Of course Cipher would find cat videos funny, what doesn’t he find funny? Dipper thought for a moment and came to the conclusion that, nope, Cipher could get a kick out of anything.

As he watched the video play through, Dipper couldn’t help his eyes wandering to the corner of the screen where a list of information sat. At the top of the list was a name, one that had Dipper’s heart stalling. “Uh.” The boy muttered very intelligently.

Cipher tilted his head to the side and furrowed his brows at Dipper’s odd expression. “What? Don’t tell me you don’t find cat videos funny. Cause I don’t think this relationship can work if—”

“Bill?”

#it's done bby #two more chaps #shall update tomorrow #billdip #my writing #lips of a stranger #billdip fic #fanfiction #fic

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