#Great job Dipper!! Someone in your bed and the best you can do is kinda grimace. Real sexy.

[tswwwit]

Wait, does the cheating thing on the bond always works? bcs that would be kinda freaky for R!Dipper like imagine you get pinned down by someone in the corner of a br or smthng and then said person kissed you and proceeded to explode into red mist and you literally have no idea what happened.

Also, would the constellation mark be a "cursed" Mark over the years, like you would give birth to a baby and the doctor says "😟 I am so sorry ma'am,,, I'm afraid your baby has the Cipher Companion mark. ( could also be something equally as science-y like Ursa Major, Constellation Calamation, etc idk)" And you just burst into tears.

Would that mean that dipper would get into a special program(demon wrangling program or smthng, demonologist? Maybe)? Or would the parents hide it away hoping that Bill would never take their child away?

(Sorry this au is just very interesting to me,,,, I hope u get more motivation, keep writing author 💪)

These are all options! The fun part of reincarnation AU being left ambiguous is that technically any of them could happen.

[thepeanutbutterwizard]

Precipice Chapter 3: Piece by piece

What’s this?  A wild update has appeared!

Sorry this took so long, but here it is, chapter 3!

In which Ford gets confused, several times, Soos needs a hug, and Abuelita makes an allusion to Mary Poppins.

Word count: 3,686

Chapter 2     Chapter 4

       Ford wasn't sure when he had fallen asleep, leaning sideways in the hospital chair with one of the books Wendy left sitting in his lap.  He was hovering on the fringes of unconsciousness, that dreamy state where he could feel the awkward position of his neck and the lackluster padding of the hospital chair and hear the distant voice that was coming from near his brother, but he just didn't care. 

       Slowly the voice became clearer, and Ford grabbed onto it like a life preserver, pulling himself back into consciousness.  Something stirred in his chest- panic, joy, fear, shame guilt guilt guilt- that he couldn’t quite pin down until he was able to identify the voice as belonging to the hairless gopher man-child.  Ford started to sit up, but something in Soos’s voice made Ford pause and listen, feigning sleep. He opened his eyes a fraction and peered through his lashes, the man-child not having noticed him moving before.

       "-and don't worry, the Shack is open today.  Ford was staring at the back of Soos’s head, but he didn’t need to see his face to know that the handyman was still just as upset as he had been yesterday.  Ford could hear it in his voice, see it in the way Soos mashed his baseball cap between his meaty fists. “Mabel’s in charge again, and Dippers doing the tours. You'd love to see him go Mr. Pines, he does a great job.  But not as good as you dood," Soos said with a little sniff. Or, well, a rather loud sniff  “no one can compare to the original Mr. M-mystery."  Soos's voice broke on the last word, and through barely cracked eyelids Ford saw the young man's shoulders tremble.

       "We're all really worried about you Mr. Pines. Dipper and Mabel both cried themselves to sleep last night, and Wendy is low-key freaking out.  We were texting until like, two in the morning cause neither of us could sleep."  Soos took a trembling breath before continuing, “We all really need you to wake up soon dood. I mean, without you, who's gonna read out of the joke book? And who's gonna punch zombies and pterodactyls for Dipper and Mabel? Who's gonna complain about Waddles eating the attractions? Wendy won't have anyone to call a crappy boss anymore, and she's gonna get like, sent up state and you know she doesn't wanna do that. And I-" Soos's voice broke into a sob, and Ford watched the young man break down in front of him, twisting his hat between his hands "I really can't have my dad leave again. So-so you gotta wake up soon." He gave the hat in his hands a final twist before tugging it back onto his head “Please Da-ad."

       Ford was tense in his seat, hands gripping the armrests, but he was able to collect himself enough to relax before Soos turned, scrubbing his eyes dry.

       "The kids'll be here soon. Wendy and Abuelita are gonna be bringing them. I just had to come check right now, in case you were up. You always get up early, so I thought you might’ve decided to wake up now.  I'm gonna go use the bathroom dood, brb." Soos walked off, leaving Ford alone with his jumbled thoughts and his comatose brother.

       Ford felt like an intruder. Which was ridiculous, absolutely ridiculous! Stanley was his brother, his twin! Soos was just the handyman at the Shack.  If anything, Soos was the intruder here. Ford had known Stan all his life! 

       Even though they had only seen each other once in the past forty years before now. 

       And sure things weren't the best between them, but still, how big a part of Stan's life could this simple employee be?  Soos couldn't mean as much to Stan as his actual family, as Ford and the kids do, could he? Family had always been everything to Stan.

       But what makes someone family? A voice echoed in his head

       Blood relation Ford replied

       Really?  Blood relation didn’t stop your father from throwing Stan out, did it?  Would family do that?

       I don’t-

       And what about Fiddleford?  He was the first real friend you made after Stanley betrayed you, wasn’t he?  He was a stranger that came to be like another brother to you.  Don’t you think Stanley can form connections outside of you?

       ...well-

       He seems to have made some connection with Soos.  You’ve seen how much the children adore him.  Even Wendy, his cashier is amazingly loyal to him.  Why is that so hard for you to accept?

       ...

       Are you afraid?

       Afraid? Ridiculous! What do I have to be afraid of here?

       That Stanley doesn’t ne-

       “Oh, hi Mr. Dr. Pines." Soos came back, and disrupting the intrusive thoughts "how long have you been up?"

       Ford hadn't even noticed he had sat up. "Oh, ahem, uh just a few minutes. Wha-when did you get here?" Ford fibbed through his teeth.  Tear tracks still shone dully on Soos’s face, and his eyes were ringed red.  Ford pretended not to notice.

       "I think twenty minutes ago dood?”  Soos said, sounding almost as cheerily oblivious as he normally sounded  “Or maybe two hours? I don't really know, what time is it?" Soos looked at his wrist.

       "Um, you aren't wearing a watch.”  Ford noticed, giving the man-child an inquisitive look.

       “Oh, I know dood.  I just kinda like pretending I have one until I can fix mine.”  Soos gave a small smile and a shrug.  “The small gears are really hard to use duck tape on.”

       “Ah.  I see.”  An odd silence filled the room, partially amiable, and partially awkward, punctuated by the sounds of the machines surrounding the bed.  A small part of Ford’s chest ached, filled with questions that he longed to ask this stranger that knew his brother.  But how in the multiverse could he start that conversation?  By the way, I was just eavesdropping on you as you were emotionally baring your soul to my comatose brother, and I’m mildly confused. Could you please explain to me, in great detail, the exact nature of your relationship with Stanley, as well as give me a timeline of your life, a pedigree chart that goes back five generations, and any other information you can think of that will help me understand why you referred to my brother as your father?  Even Ford could tell that that was tactless.

       And so they sat in silence and waited. 

It wasn’t more than a few minutes before door was opened and Mabel came whirling into the hospital room, Dipper close behind.  Stan’s fez was perched on Mabel’s head, and for the first time she was wearing a sweater Ford had already seen her in, a dark pink sweater with purple puzzle pieces decorating it.  Ford started when he saw Dipper; the boy was wearing a miniature version of Stan’s absurd ‘Mr. Mystery’ suit, complete with a flipped up eye patch and his hair slicked back looking far too much like a younger Stanley for Ford’s liking.  Mabel’s almost too-wide grin contrasted sharply with Dipper’s deep frown.  Mabel immediately went over to Stan’s side and started babbling to him cheerfully, not seeming to care that Stan was unable to hear her. 

       “No hat today?” Ford asked Dipper as the boy came to stand by him.  Dipper quickly turned away from Ford, keeping his eyes down on the floor.

       “Lost it at the-the thing yesterday.” Dipper muttered.  Ford was puzzled by Dippers actions. Surely the boy was shaken, but could an event like this really start to drive him away from Ford so soon after the two had started to bond?  

       “Ah, you must the other Mr. Pines that my Soos has told me about.”  Fords attention was drawn to an elderly lady holding a rather garish carpet bag he hadn’t noticed come in.  She came over to Ford and extended a hand “Ramona Ramirez, so nice to meet you.”  Ford hesitated a moment before giving a handshake.

       “Stanf- Stanley Pines.” Ford said.

       Mrs. Ramirez made a small noise in the back of her throat.  She gave Ford a limp handshake, barely grasping his fingers.  

       The rest of the visit went by in a blur.  Before Ford knew it, Mabel and Dipper were giving him tight hugs and heading out of the door.  Soos gave Ford a small buck-toothed grin as he herded the kids out.  Wendy didn’t acknowledge Fords existence, and he returned the favor.  But, to his surprise, Ford wasn’t alone with Stanley after the door shut.  Soos’s grandmother was sitting in a heavily padded camp chair next to Fords seat.  And she was holding a bundle of clothes in her arms.

       “It is good to see you again Dr. Pines.  Although you probably don’t remember when that happened.”  She rose and shoved the bundle of clothes into Fords arms with more force than he would have expected.  “You smell terrible and look a mess.  Go clean up.”

       Ford gaped at the woman as she sat back down, and started rummaging through her carpet bag.  He...really didn’t know what to make of this.  He was positive he had never met this woman before in his life, and why was she even still here?  Who did she think she was to stay here, invading both Stanley’s and Ford’s privacy, bossing Ford around with the gall to say he needed to clean up, excuse him for having more important matters on his mind than trivial grooming when his brother, his twin, was in a hospital, hurt and vulnerable and he wasn’t there to protect him and-

       “Dr. Pines, you can say what you want to me, but after you freshen up.”  Mrs. Ramirez had looked up from her bag when she noticed Ford hadn’t moved. “You...look rather run down at the moment.  I am sure that the children noticed as well that you are not doing too well.  They are worried about you.  I believe they will worry less if they see you with a shaved face and clean clothes when they come by later today, don’t you?”  She gave him a look that made him think of his own mother when she spoke.

       “I...suppose you have a point.”  Ford said, feeling his heart rate start to drop and his hands unclench (when did he tense up in the first place?).  How could he have not thought of that?  No wonder Dipper didn’t want to look at Ford, he must be a mess.  And now that he thought of it, the children’s hugs had been rather brief.  Ford felt ashamed for upsetting them, and the blood started rising in his cheeks.  He turned on his heel before Mrs. Ramirez could notice and retreated into the small bathroom in Stan’s room.  Ford pushed the door close, but hesitated before letting in click into place in the door frame.  The last time he let Stanley out of his sight, all of this happened.  The Incident (the details of which Ford didn’t have fully at the moment, but he couldn’t bear to press Dipper and Mabel about it when they were sobbing to him about it in the waiting room), the time spent fretting in the waiting room being useless and helpless, wondering how could this happen, why did this happen to us, why wasn’t I there, I could have stopped this, the shock of seeing the quiet, still man in the bed and realizing that that was Stanley and that he was hurt-

       Ford dimly noticed that his hands were shaking.  Calm down Stanford, a gruff voice echoed faintly in his ears. You’re getting wrapped up in yer own head again.  If ya don’t calm down, yer never gonna get this to work.  They were words from years ago, when Ford had worked himself into frenzy over...over...over something.  He couldn’t remember, he couldn’t think, he was-

       The bundle slipped out of his hands.  Ford stared at it on the hospital floor for a moment or two before moving to grab the scattered contents.  He used the task to ground himself.  Ford was frazzled and on edge, but he didn’t know why.  Surely some of it had to be stress from everything that had happened...yes.  That’s all it was.  Just a little stress throwing him off his game, making him even jumpier than normal.  Ford just had to keep his head, keep on top of it.  He had to be strong for the kids.  For Stanley.  With a solid nudge, Ford closed the door behind him.

       Fifteen minutes later, Ford was feeling calmer, if a little drained, and wholly uncomfortable.  Mrs. Ramirez had given him, along with the clothes (which reeked of mothballs) a small can of shaving cream and a razor, a hairbrush, and a travel bottle of shampoo.  Ford was tempted to simply change and ignore the other items, but he was mildly afraid that if he did Mrs. Ramirez would simply drag him back into the bathroom and wash him herself.  

       His hair was quickly washed in the sink and brushed through.  Shaving is what took the most time.  Ford found it tedious to have to use a razor, but without his usual supplies he was unable to shave any other way.  He nicked himself twice, but avoided tossing the razor at the far wall until he had finished.  Ford didn’t know where Mrs. Ramirez had obtained the change of clothes for him, and he wasn’t sure he wanted to find out.  The stench of mothballs had been bad enough before Ford had put the clothes on; now it was so overwhelming that he could taste the mothballs.  The shirt, a wrinkled button-down, was barely wide enough in the shoulders and too large around the middle.  The pants were large too, and long; Ford had to roll up the cuffs of the pant legs, and cinch his belt tight around his waist to keep them from tripping him up.  He couldn’t tuck the pant legs into his boots, so he left them out.  A quick look in the mirror showed that the collar of Fords borrowed shirt didn’t quite cover his tattoo, so when he throws his trench coat on, he tugs the collar high and hopes for the best.  Normally Ford would have worried more about the horrendous tattoo, but he had already been away from Stan for too long, so his trench coat would have to work for the moment.

       As soon as he left the bathroom Ford was struck by how ridiculous he looked.  He was close to ducking back inside for a few minutes, if only to collect himself.  Ford had worn outfits that were much more uncomfortable and embarrassing whilst traveling through dimensions with little shame.  This, however, felt worse than the other times.  Ford supposed he was ashamed at the thought of Dipper and Mabel seeing him in this state when they came to visit later tonight.  And Stan wouldn’t let him live it down if he saw Ford dressed so ridiculously.

       If Stan ever wakes up that is.  The words fill Fords head without warning.

       NO!  Stan will wake up!  Ford’s heart picks up again, a small swell of panic picking up again.

       Are you sure?  You may not be a medical doctor, but you know enough to know that he doesn’t have very good odds, especially at his age.  With every day that goes by his chances of waking up go down, and his chance of making a full recovery if he does ever wake up is already low.  Stop deluding yourself Stanford, and face the facts!  You’re the smart one after all.  It’s what you’re supposed to do.

       Shut. Up.  Ford wrestles with the intrusive thoughts, shoving them down into the back of his mind.  Stanley will wake up.  He’ll be alright.  He’s strong.  He can make it.

       Ford resumed his spot by Stan’s bed, carefully avoiding looking at Mrs. Ramirez’s face as she took his clothes from him.  “I will wash these for you and bring them back later.  Now you eat.”  To Ford’s surprise a napkin and a plate were dropped in his lap.  The plate was soon filled with several tamale’s, which were still warm.  Ford looked up in time to see Mrs. Ramirez putting a Tupperware box back into her carpet bag.

       “Urh, yes thank you, but I really must ask you-” Ford started to say

       “I’m sorry if the clothes are uncomfortable.  They were my husbands, and I didn’t have it in me to get rid of them after he died.  And anyway, they fit my Soos so nicely now that he is all grown, so it is not a bad thing.  Lemonade?”  Mrs. Ramirez procured a small thermos and a few plastic cups from her carpet bag.

       Ford decided to ignore the fact that he was wearing dead stranger’s clothes, opting to focus on the seed of annoyance that was growing in his gut. “What, no.  Anyways, could you tell me-”

       “Such a shame.  It’s very good lemonade.”  She poured a cup for herself. “Are you sure you don’t want any of-”

       “Yes I am quite sure that I do not want any lemonade!”  Ford snapped “What I want, Mrs. Ramirez, is for you to answer my question.”

       Mrs. Ramirez didn’t respond to Ford outburst.  She simply took a long drink of her lemonade as Ford sat fuming in his chair.  She finished and placed her cup on the ground, then met Fords glare with a matronly look.  “What is it that you are so eager to know, Dr. Pines? And, please, call me Ramona.”

       Ford sucks in a tiny breath, trying to calm himself, keep the tremor out of his voice.  “I would like to know what you meant earlier.  When you said it was nice to see me again.”

       “Ah.  I knew you wouldn’t remember.  It was over thirty years ago.”  Mrs. Ramirez gave a small smile.  “You had barely moved into town at the time you see.  The Corduroys’ had just finished your cabin, and you were moving your things in.  My friend Susan and I liked to welcome newcomers to Gravity Falls with pies and quilts.  And we brought my daughter, Maria, along with us.  She was only five at the time.”  A small, proud smile lit up Mrs. Ramirez’s face as she spoke of her daughter.  “She was a fiery, energetic child, always wanting to meet new people, make new friends.  That’s actually why I remember this visit so well.  When you opened the door, Maria started introducing the three of us, chattering on and on.  You didn’t quite know what to make of her, or any of us really.”

       The tiniest bit of memory tickled the edges of Fords mind.  If he thought about it, he could vaguely recall an incident involving a pie when he was first moving in.  His first encounter with the gnomes had been them breaking into his kitchen to steal the pie, and now that he thought of it an old quilt he had seen in the Shack did look vaguely familiar.  But Ford had a hard time remembering anything about two women coming to call with a toddler in tow.

       “I tried to come around a few more times, but you were always so busy. Eventually I stopped.  But Maria kept asking me to take her to visit Stanford Pines, the six-fingered science man again.  She was quite enamored by you, you know.”  She pointed at the plate of untouched tamales in Fords lap.  “Please, eat Dr. Stanford.”

       Ford took a bite of one of the tamales to appease Mrs. Ramirez, before a sudden revelation had him chocking on it.  A glass of lemonade was placed in his hand, and he took several gulps from it to quell the coughing.  A small part of him felt bad for snapping at Mrs. Ramirez; it was very good lemonade.  “Have-” Ford wheezed “have you know that Stan wasn’t me this whole time?”

       Mrs. Ramirez smiled.  “Yes.”

       “...oh.”  Ford turned his attention back to the tamales.  He and Mrs. Ramirez sat in silence as he ate.

       And then Ford had an idea.  “So, your daughter, Maria.  She’s Soos’s mother I presume?”  Ford tried to sound casual.  Stan would be able to pull this off.

       Mrs. Ramirez gave a sad smile “Yes, she was.  She loved little Jesus so much.  But she left this world far too soon.  She is with the angels now, waiting to greet me and the rest of her family when our time’s come.”

       Ford, Jewish by birth and a scientist by choice, decided not to give Mrs. Ramirez his two cents on that matter.  He instead asked a question that had been on his mind since he woke up.  “What about the boy’s father?”

       Ford wasn’t prepared for the long stream of rapid, vehement Spanish expletives that came from Mrs. Ramirez.  Her tirade increased in volume as she went on, before ending with a statement in English “That man didn’t deserve my daughter, or Jesus, and I am glad to be rid of him!  If he ever comes back here I will make him wish he was never born!”

       Ford wisely decided not to comment on this outburst, and instead decided to focus on his tamales.  Well, at least that rules out Stanley as the boy’s father.  Unfortunately, this revelation only left Ford with more questions, questions that he would have to save for Stanley, if when he woke up. 

       Mrs. Ramirez spoke as Ford finished his meal.  “I should be going now.  I will be bringing you your own clothes tomorrow.  And Soos and the children will be here later today.  Wendy will probably bring food, so there will be no nasty cafeteria food for you”  She took Fords plate and napkin, then folded up her chair and stowed it in her carpet bag. Somehow.  Ford was puzzling over how she could fit everything that he had seen in the average sized bag when Mrs. Ramirez said her goodbye.  It occurred to Ford that he probably should have said farewell.