#dipper killed fresh dipper

[tswwwit]

How would bill feel if dipper reincarnated as an incubus?

Thrilled. Delighted. Tickled pink! Partly because hey! That's a great look for him! Inhuman and demonic and oh-so-cute. Another part because of all the demonic subtypes he could end up as, this one has to be the most ironic, a bit of him thrilled just because it's good to see him again -

And of course, a Big Ol' Chunk of delight for the other obvious reason.

[astro-b-o-y-d]

Also speaking of the clones, I think I finally found something Bill and Dip have in common between only just the two of them and no other Pines; both had no qualms about using Dipper-shaped beings to accomplish their goals before disposing of them/planning to dispose of them in admittedly pretty cruel ways.

Of course, Dipper melting his clones was a complete and total accident, but they were still sentient enough to count as deaths. Plus he was still totally fine with making them to help accomplish his goals, and Tyrone outright implied that original Dipper could always just melt him with water if he retaliated, so it's not like that was just a last resort idea.

[ckret2]

Chapter 26 of human Bill doing his best to arm-twist his captors into doing anything he wants, featuring: the gang going to the mall, where Bill tries on some of the most ridiculous outfits known to mankind, to Mabel's delight and Stan & Dipper's despair.

(please click on the second image, you can't imagine how long it took to make those two patterns. (Okay you probably can, it was a couple hours.))

####

Bill said, "Well, you can tell Stanford that if he's got a problem with my drinking, I'd like to see him try to get a good night's sleep in an alien body without some kind of sedative! I've got a fresh new liver, three little cans of cider a day won't kill me before one of us finds a way to get me out of this body!"

Exasperated, Mabel said, "Why do I have to tell him? Just talk to each other."

"You think I don't want to? He's the one who's put two doors, an elevator, and a trick vending machine between him and me."

Mabel supposed that was true. "Okay, fine. More importantly: what do you think of going shopping?"

Bill shrugged. "Sure. I'll take any opportunity to go outside. It'll be a good test run for other trips."

Mabel frowned, clearly disappointed by the reaction. "That's it? I thought you'd be more excited. You can finally get more clothing!"

"How much clothing do I need?" He gestured down at himself, wearing his hoodie and a borrowed skirt. "I'm not naked, what more do you want from me?"

"To like your clothing!"

"Oh, right. I keep forgetting you have a whole thing about people other than you being happy."

Mabel socked his arm. "Do you just not care about clothes? I didn't expect you to be like Dipper about it."

Eugh. "It's not that I don't like fashion in general," Bill said, eager to distance himself from the household wet blanket. "I have very strong opinions on other people's fashion! It's just..."

It was just that he didn't relish the idea of standing in front of a mirror, partially nude, staring at the bone-caged skin prison he was locked inside.

He still put towels over the bathroom mirror when he showered.

"Well," he said, "isn't the whole point of fashion self-expression? And my self can't be expressed in this body." He tugged on the collar of his hoodie, "This is as close as it's gonna get."

"Does clothing have to express your self? Can't it just look really cool?" Mabel asked.

Bill considered that. "I do like looking really cool."

Maybe he didn't have to see it as dressing himself. Treat it like inflicting his design whims upon a helpless human puppet. He'd done that before, he liked doing that. He was lucky, at least, that as far as puppets went, this was an incredibly good-looking one. Aside from the neck.

"Do I have to wear that, though?" Bill skeptically eyed the knit garment held in Mabel's hands.

"Yep! Grunkle Ford's orders! It's to make sure you don't talk to people."

"Can I put it on over my hoodie?"

"As heartwarming as it is that you love it so much: no, you've gotta take it off."

"How come?"

"It's safer this way! Your hoodie might freak people out."

"Freak them out how?"

####

Soos trudged into the kitchen at 3 a.m., yawning, and turned on the lights.

The Bill Cipher, triangular and angular, gold-bricked and one-eyed, hovered in the air.

Soos screamed. "He's back! Everyone watch out! You stay away from my family, you—" Soos picked up the nearest weapon and chucked it at Bill.

The spatula bounced harmlessly off his chest and clattered to the floor. Bill took his hood off. "Wow. Thanks for getting my hopes up, Questiony."

"Oh, whoops. Sorry 'bout that. At a quick glance, that hoodie makes you look a lot like... you." Soos looked Bill up and down again. "Hey. How come you're standing on the kitchen table in the middle of the night?"

"Eh." Bill shrugged. "It passes the time."

####

"Sometimes I curse your species's overactive pattern-detection instincts." Bill snatched Mabel's offering out of her hand and trudged to the bathroom to change.

He emerged a moment later wearing the tank top Mabel had knit for him, and tugged out the hem to examine it. She'd cross-stitched on the chest: "STAY BACK! I BITE SALES PEOPLE!"

"I'd be pretty insulted," Bill said, "if this wasn't the funniest thing I've ever worn."

####

Stan pulled the old Diablo near the porch to minimize the amount of time Bill would spend in open air between confinement in the shack and in a vehicle; then waited leaning against the car, glowering at the ground like the world's surliest chauffeur (he'd even put on his suit), for Dipper and Mabel to escort the prisoner outside.

The second Bill stepped off of the porch, he looked up in amazement. "What is that?"

Dipper and Mabel looked at Bill's face, then in the direction he was looking. He was staring straight into the sun without squinting. Mabel said, "The... sun?"

"No, not the sun! I mean the—" Bill gestured toward the sun. "Whatever it's doing."

Mabel looked skyward again. She didn't see anything else Bill could be referring to. "Shining?"

"I know what sunshine is!"

"Then what are you asking about!"

Bill studied the sky a moment longer. Finally, he said, "Guess I don't know what sunshine feels like! It's been a long time since I've been naked in the sun."

Stan's head snapped up to stare at Bill. Bill was still completely clothed.

After another few seconds, arms outstretched, staring in blank-faced wide-eyed wonder at the sky, Bill concluded, "I think I'm photosynthesizing again."

This time Dipper looked over. And, Bill was still completely human—a species notoriously well-known for not photosynthesizing. "'Again'?"

Bill didn't respond. Instead, with a shrill cackle that startled the nearby birds out of the trees, he took off at a full sprint.

"Hey!" Dipper tore after him. Stan tensed up, but then grunted, leaned back against his car, and waited for Bill to trip.

Bill's run was the awkward bouncing gait of a moon astronaut on fast forward: someone who at some point had definitely learned how to run, but clearly wasn't used to doing it in this body on this world. He switched to an odd sideways crab-walk gallop—which was, surprisingly, faster—and then attempted, and failed, a cartwheel. Dipper dove for Bill, Stan laughed at them both, and Mabel shouted encouragement at Bill from the porch; Bill hopped back up just before Dipper could catch him.

He attempted a second cartwheel but was caught in the middle by an invisible force jerking his wrist. He yelped and tumbled to the ground. "I think I twisted my arm!" He sounded way too giddy about this.

Mabel looked down at her own wrist and the chain bracelet. She wasn't being actively pulled toward Bill; but nevertheless she couldn't pull her wrist any further away from him. "It worked."

"Of course it did!" Breathing heavily, Bill got to his feet and leaned backward on his heels, using the tension of the bracelet around his wrist to keep from falling. "What, did you ever doubt me?"

"Yes," Stan said. "Always," Dipper said. "Every time you open your mouth," Mabel said.

"You're all haters."

Mabel took a flying leap off of the porch. Bill toppled on his back again.

Once they were all loaded in the car—Dipper in the front glaring in the rear view mirror, Mabel and Bill in the back with Bill making faces at the mirror—Stan said, "Okay. I'm not getting you anything nice, because you're not worth it."

"Aww. And after I made you almost five grand?"

Dipper's jaw dropped. "He what?! When did—"

Raising his voice, Stan went on, "So we're going to Shop Thrifty. Any complaints?"

Bill said, "You don't wanna go there."

Stan turned to give him a dark look.

"You don't," Bill said. "They were robbed this weekend. Security's gonna be high."

"No they weren't, you can't know that. You're making that up. I'm calling your bluff."

Dipper cleared his throat. "Actually... yeah, they were robbed. I've been investigating the possibility that it might've been..." At the sight of Bill's keen gaze in the rear view mirror, Dipper trailed off into mumbles.

Bill waited a second longer to ensure Dipper was properly cowed; then said, "See? You can trust me! But if you want to go to the thrift shop..."

"Ha." Stan drummed his fingers on the steering wheel; then reluctantly said, "I guess we could go to the mall—"

Mabel pumped her fists in the air. "THE MALL!"

"Yes! Finally!" Bill dragged his hands down his face in relief. "Civilization! Other people!"

"Hey!" Stan turned around to point threateningly at Bill. Bill held up his hands to block the accusatory finger. "This still isn't a social trip. Talk to anyone and we're going back to the car."

"I know, I know. I just wanna look at people. That's all!" Bill said. "You know that feeling when you come out of a couple weeks in the hole? When you're grateful just to see anybody?"

Stan's frown deepened; but he didn't say anything. He just turned around, ignored Dipper's curious look, and started driving.

Mabel and Bill high-fived.

####

As the car pulled into a parking spot, Mabel handed Bill a pair of mirrored sunglasses with one lens popped out. Bill rolled his (yellow, slitted) eye, but he switched his eyepatch over to the lensless side of the sunglasses and put them on. "Nobody'll notice my eyes. They only look inhuman at certain angles."

"We're being extra cautious," Mabel said.

"If you're gonna make me wear shades any time I'm in public, can I at least pick a pair I like while I'm here?"

Mabel said, "Sure!" at the same time Stan said, "Not a chance." Dipper looked between the two of them, and said, "I'm with Stan."

"I wasn't taking a vote." Bill leaned forward to shove Dipper's hat over his eyes, and followed Mabel out of the car before Dipper could retaliate.

Bill's grin got a little wider and his gait a little bouncier the closer they got to the mall, until he was practically skipping through the automatic doors. "Look at this place! I can't remember the last time I visited a bazaar this booming in person! Two stories, even! Wow!"

Dipper and Mabel exchanged a glance. Gravity Malls was, by far, the smallest mall either of them had ever visited. You could see from one end of it to the other in a straight shot, and the anchor store was just a more popular chain's discount outlet location. Dipper muttered, "He's trying too hard to talk up the place."

Mabel giggled. "Maybe he's easily impressed."

Bill evidently didn't care. He was too busy taking in the sight of all the stores and all the people who didn't hate his guts (or, at least, didn't know they did). He chipperly said, "Hey there!" as he wove around a haggard teenage kiosk salesman.

"Hello?" Snapping into sales mode, the kiosk kid said, "Are you interested in genuine gold-plated signet rings? We have rings with dragons, eagles, Chinese characters, American flags, football teams..."

Bill did a u-turn without slowing down. "Boy, am I! You got any secret societies?"

Stan wrapped an arm around Bill's shoulders—"No, you're not interested."—and dragged him away. He lowered his voice. "What happened to no talking to anyone?"

Bill laughed. "Sorry, I got excited!"

"Uh-huh. Get 'excited' one more time, and I'll assume you're 'forgetting' the rules on purpose and we're going home."

Bill stopped laughing. "Okay, fine." He trudged alongside Stan, sulking.

####

Stan tried to direct them toward the discount outlet store; Bill looked wistfully at Edgy On Purpose; Mabel overruled them both by grabbing Bill's hand and bodily dragging him to the coolest store in the mall: 18th Century, the place where the almost-and-barely college kids shopped, and Mabel's newest fashion avatars now that she'd had a year to explore "teenage" fashion and had gotten over it. "You can tell it's for college kids, because they also sell bedsheets and inflatable furniture," she explained as they entered, just before abandoning Bill with Stan as she ran off to start collecting clothing on Bill's behalf. Bill and Stan side-eyed each other, and Bill drifted off toward the small home goods section.

"Ooh, Dipper look." Mabel pointed at a sales rack. "Out-of-season prom dresses! Those are the fanciest dresses!" She dove in eagerly, checking the size tags.

Dipper hovered behind her, hands stuffed deep in his pockets, trying to stand far enough away that it didn't look like he was an active participant in this shopping trip but not so far away that people might start wondering why a thirteen-year-old boy was in the dress section by himself. "Are you shopping for B—for Goldie, or for yourself?"

"For Goldie, obviously! He likes having a triangular silhouette, he needs dresses!"

"Does he want dresses?"

Mabel made a vague I dunno sound. "I haven't asked him yet."

"Maybe you should?"

"It's fine, I'm going to! He can tell me when he catches up!" Mabel pulled out a sequin-studded dress that looked like it had been constructed out of fluorescent pink peacock feathers. She paused. "Okay, it's not exactly his style, but do you think he might try it on anyway?"

Dipper groaned. "Mabel, he's a guy, he's not gonna try on a dress. He wears top hats and bow ties, remember?"

"I know, but... just for fun...?"

Dipper shook his head. Mabel sighed.

Bill rounded a rack of clothing, using a curtain rod he'd claimed out of the home goods section like it was a cane. "Hey, star girl. I know we're here on a focused mission, buuut do you think we could spare a minute to try something just for fun..." He trailed off as he and Mabel simultaneously realized they were both holding a pink peacock dress. Bill's face lit up. "Where have you been all my life?"

"Shut up! How are you this cool!"

"Where's the dressing room."

They took off for the back of the store, Bill tripping over a whole clothing rack as he went.

Dipper watched them uncomfortably, decided he didn't want to follow, and picked his way to the front of the store, where Stan was leaning in the doorway with his arms crossed tightly and a sour look on his face. Dipper asked, "Does it worry you how well Mabel and Goldie..."

"Ohhh yeah."

####

Bill swung open the dressing room door. "Well? Whaddaya think?" He fanned out the feathers as best he could with his hands. 

"It's so beautiful," Mabel said.

"It's hideous," Stan said.

"It's kinda baggy around the shoulders and chest," Dipper said.

Bill shrugged. "I've got the shoulder span of a snake and the hips of a sumo wrestler, what do you expect?"

"It's okay, I can tailor anything we get," said Mabel, who had never tailored anything in her life but was sure she had a book on it in Piedmont.

"Tailor nothing," Stan said, "we're not getting this! What, are you crazy?"

Bill said, "Obviously."

Stan gestured at him. "What in the world would you wear this for?"

"Who cares? It looks cool and this body is merely a meat armature to drape coolness upon." Bill stepped back into the dressing room to eye the dress in the mirror. "Color's a little uniform, though. I'd need some accessories to break it up."

"I think you're right," Mabel said, stroking her chin. "You know what color goes best with hot pink?"

Simultaneously, she and Bill said, "Lime green," then cracked up and pointed at each other excitedly. 

Stan and Dipper exchanged a tired look.

####

"How about this one?" Bill looked at Stan and Dipper, who were standing guard while Mabel searched for more clothes. "It's obviously the best shirt in the store, but is it me?" Bill was wearing a loose Hawaiian shirt covered in bright multicolored triangles with animal skin patterns—leopard, zebra, tiger, checkers—and a pair of black jeans that fit his hips but consequently drowned his ankles. "Trick question. It's me all over!" He laughed. His laughter petered out. "It's... it's more me than I am. Wow."

Dipper and Stan didn't laugh. "I'm a Hawaiian shirt kind of man," Stan said, "but if the choice was between that thing and going naked, I'd go naked."

"Keep your nudist fantasies to yourself, Stanley." Bill studied his reflection again. "The shirt's great, but they make the pants look dull. I need something that coordinates with it. But what..."

Mabel returned while Bill was musing on his shirt. She wordlessly held out the pair of cheetah/tiger print rainbow leggings she'd been retrieving. It matched the shirt perfectly, in the sense that they both had so many colors on them that inevitably some of those colors were accidentally the same.

Bill accepted the leggings with an expression close to awe. "You're a fashion genius," he said. "Are you sure you don't want your own planet?"

"Not from you," Mabel said.

And for a moment, Bill actually almost looked hurt.

####

Bill held up several shirts thoughtfully. The first was an eye-searing abomination; the second was a retina-burning nightmare; and the third was about the same, but it was covered in smiley faces, and somehow that made it worse.

"I feel like they'd all have the right psychological effect on my enemies," Bill said, "but all three is a little redundant, isn't it?"

Not looking, Stan asked, "Is the effect you're trying to have boring your enemies to death? Because it's working."

Bill scowled. He chucked all three at Stan's face. "Fine! Stick them in the 'maybe' pile, I'll narrow them down later." By this point, the "maybe" pile in Stan's arms was almost too big for him to carry.

"My willingness to indulge Mabel is losing to my annoyance at indulging you," Stan said. "I thought this was going to be a quick trip."

"Yeah, well, I'm kinda getting into it."

"Well, would you get out of it and dress like a normal person?"

"Okay, fine. I'll try on something subtle—"

"Goldie!" Mabel ran up waving a ruby red jacket over her head. "Look what I found in the clearance bin! Glittery vinyl!"

Bill's eyes widened.

Reverently, Mabel said, "It looks like a 50's diner booth."

"Is the picture on the back a—?"

"Yeah, it's a puking kangaroo."

Bill snatched the jacket from her hands. "I'll try something subtle after this."

Stan groaned. "I'm gonna stretch my legs." He dropped the "maybe" pile on the floor. "Dipper, make sure the demon doesn't try to end the world while I'm gone."

Dipper resigned himself to the fact that this shopping trip was never going to end, and curled up on the floor to wait to die.

####

"Now, this is a keeper," Bill said, examining the summer dress in the mirror. With Stan gone, Bill had a moment of leisure to properly inspect the way the fabric moved and draped. He was using the opportunity to grab the skirt and twirl it like a three-year-old who'd never worn a dress before. "It really speaks to me."

Mabel asked, "Is it because it's covered in—?"

"It's because it's covered in yellow triangles. I know what I like!" He spun around to see how the skirt flared out, tripped and fell over—"I meant to do that!"—and heaved himself back upright with his curtain rod cane. "I'm fine, shoo." He waved off Mabel's attempt to help, and brushed off the dress. "Too bad it looks weird with pants. I'd prefer my legs covered, but dresses are the only thing most human stores carry that flatter my shape, so what're you gonna do."

"What about more leggings?" Mabel asked.

"Do they have any black ones that don't look like cheap spandex?"

"I think I saw some that look like jeans!"

"It'll do. Good thinking, star girl."

"Any time, triangle... guy." Mabel paused. "Hey... just out of curiosity—since I don't think we ever really covered this, since you're an alien and all—aaare you a guy or a girl?"

"I'm a triangle! C'mon, you already know that."

Mabel opened her mouth to protest that Bill hadn't answered her question; hesitated as she realized that maybe, in fact, he had; and instead asked, "Is a triangle more like a guy or a girl?"

Bill paused as he gave the question a moment of contemplation; and then he said, "No, not really."

Dipper, who'd been using the "maybe" clothing pile as a pillow and pretending to ignore everything Bill did, finally gave in to the urge to glance over curiously.

Mabel concluded a triangle must be either in the exact middle of the scale, or else outside of it completely. "Oh! Okay."

Bill elbowed Mabel and said, "Keep this bit between you and me," blithely ignoring the fact that Dipper was totally within earshot and now seething about being ignored in return. "But if anyone else on this planet asks, I'll usually imply I'm a 'man,'" he put the word in finger quotes, as though he wasn't wholly convinced that "men" really existed, "but—that's strictly for business."

"Business?"

"You know, work stuff," Bill said dismissively. "It makes things easier. See, for the last few millennia, most humans have taken a male's suggestions a bit more seriously than a female's, even when the entity they're talking to is an all-knowing extra-dimensional divine alien angelic muse. Crazy, right?" He said this like he was imparting some great secret he'd figured out by himself.

"Ugh, yeah," Mabel groaned. "Sexism."

"Sexism," Bill sighed, as if he had any dog in this fight at all and wasn't just pretending he could commiserate with his only local friend. "So I figure I can get things done faster as a Bill than a Jill. But honestly? Your local gender system doesn't make any more difference to me than it would to you if somebody asked how many sides you have."

Mabel considered the matter of her hypothetical sides. "I feel like I'd have seven sides."

"Oho! I stand corrected." Bill laughed. "I would've pegged you as a pentagon. I'll remember that."

Mabel had no idea what information she'd just conveyed to Bill, but she felt like he was impressed she had an answer at all.

####

"How about this one?"

"I love it. It's so mysterious," Mabel said.

Stan said, "I thought you were gonna try on something subtle?" 

"What's more subtle than camo! That's the whole point of it!"

Dipper said, "You're not wearing camo."

Bill looked down at his galaxy print tank top, galaxy print button up, galaxy print skirt, galaxy print leggings, and galaxy print sneakers. "I guess what counts as camouflage depends on the context."

"Wh—" Dipper blinked at Bill in disbelief. "In what context could this possibly qualify as camouflage?"

"Is that a trick question?"

Drily, Stan asked, "You got travel plans taking you to outer space anytime soon, pal?"

Bill's shoulders slumped.

"Now put on something you might actually wear," Stan said.

####

Bill opened the dressing room door with four sets of basic black leggings and pants, a couple shorts, and several plain tops in various shades of gold and yellow. "Okay, done."

"Not gonna model each of these for us?" Stan asked.

"Do you want me to?"

"No."

"Fine! You kids don't need to weigh in on these—they're not as fun as the other outfits you were busy unappreciating." Bill shoved the whole pile against Stan's chest, burying the "maybe" outfits he'd insisted he would narrow down. "Okay, let's go."

Stan scowled. "How many outfits did we agree to get you?"

"You didn't." Bill headed to the front of the store.

Mabel started to follow him, paused, glanced back at Stan, and said, "Maybe you can just... toss some of it back on the racks?"

"Maybe you can toss most of it," Dipper said. "How much does he really need, like two shirts and two pants?"

Mabel laughed. "Shut up, that's what you wear!"

Stan rolled his eyes, but headed to the front of the store with an armload of clothing.

The cashier smiled as Bill approached, read his "I BITE SALES PEOPLE" shirt, and quickly turned her attention to Stan. "Hi! Did you find everything you needed?"

"Yeah, and then some," he grumbled, shooting a look at Bill and Mabel. He dumped the pile of clothing on the counter with a heavy groan proportionate to the emotional weight of carrying Bill Cipher's shopping, and shoved his hands in his pockets. "Where'd I put my wallet?"

As the cashier scanned the clothes, took off the security tags, and stuffed them into bags, Stan alternated between snatching up the bags to sling them over his arms—looking grumpier with each one—and searching for his wallet. "I'm sure I put... ah-ha!" He withdrew it triumphantly. "There! I know I've got a twenty in here somewhere."

The cashier immediately stopped scanning to give Stan a perplexed look. Hopefully, she asked, "Will you be paying for the rest by card?"

"What do you mean, 'the rest'? How much could this stuff—?" Stan grabbed the price tag on one of the shirts, squinted at it, and grabbed his chest. "Holy moly! For one shirt? This is robbery!"

Mabel winced. "I guess it's a little bit pricier than the thrift shop, but it's not that bad—is it?"

"Not that bad?! For prices like this, it'd be cheaper to get a boat ticket to Taiwan and rob the sweatshop where they sew this stuff! Forget it!" He started sliding bags off his arms and tossing them back on the counter. "Keep them! We're not shopping here!"

"But Grunkle Stan!" Mabel grabbed his coat. "We just found a bunch of stuff that's perfect for Goldie! Please?"

"Do you think I care? He'd be wearing potato sacks if I had my way! We'll go to the outlet store, those are the prices he deserves."

Dipper groaned. "Do we have to do this whole thing all over again?" He and Mabel both looked pleadingly at Bill, waiting for him to protest the return of his carefully-curated wardrobe of tacky golden horrors.

Bill shrugged. "If he didn't bring enough money to the mall, there's nothing we can do about it now."

"Hey! This isn't on me! If it wasn't for you, we'd be at the Shop Thrifty right now!"

Bill scoffed. "Come on, Stanley. It's the 2010's. Even at a thrift store, how far do you think a Jackson's gonna carry you?"

"I think it'd get me a sock I could cram in your mouth, how do you like that?" Stan tossed the last bag on the counter, told the dismayed cashier, "And he looked ugly in everything he picked out, anyway," and stomped toward the door.

"I'm so sorry," Mabel said to the cashier, and hurried after Stan with Dipper. "But Grunkle Stan, we found so many nice things here! We could at least get a couple shirts or leggings..."

"Hey," Bill said. "It's okay, kid."

Mabel shut her mouth, but she didn't look happy about it.

The party trailed behind Stan past a couple of stores, before Bill sped up to walk alongside him and asked, "Well? What's our haul?"

Stan grunted. "What?"

A slow, sly grin spread across Bill's face. "Come on. You can fool the humans, but you can't fool me. What's our haul?"

"I don't know what you're talking about."

Bill raised a brow.

Stan only lasted a couple of seconds before he cracked a mischievous smile as well. "Oh, did you mean this haul?" He rummaged in his pockets and pulled out a pair of leggings. And then another pair. And then, from his other pocket, a Hawaiian shirt. And—

Mabel gasped. "Grunkle Stan," she hissed. "You didn't!"

"Aw, man." Dipper smacked his forehead. "So all that was an act?"

—and three pairs of socks out of his jacket sleeve, and a dress from his inner coat pocket, and— "Yeeep. I've still got it."

Mabel and Dipper exchanged an exasperated look.

"And you were gonna hit the thrift store." Bill lifted his sunglasses so Stan could see him roll his eye.

"Hey, they've usually got less security than the mall. It's a safer score."

"Cheaper, too."

"You shut up! I'd like to see you do as well."

A bright smile snapped across Bill's face. "Would you! Then get a load of this—" He showed off the front and back of one empty hand, then the other; curled one into a fist; pushed his fingers into the fist and plucked out a corner of fabric; and then, like a magician revealing a long line of scarves tied at the corners, pulled out one garment after another, shirts and skirts and pants. Mabel buried her face in her hands. Dipper looked around like he expected mall security to run up and immediately arrest them all. Bill said, "What'd we lift, almost half the stuff I picked? Neither of us managed to get the kangaroo jacket, did we."

"How did you..." Stan trailed off, jaw dropped.

Bill smugly stuffed the clothing back under his tank top. "All that, and... these." Bill lifted one foot and wiggled it, showing off the yellow foam clogs he'd changed into.

"You just walked out with those on?"

"Sure! You'd be amazed what you can do in plain sight—as long as you don't call attention to it."

"Where the heck are your sandals?"

"Not my problem." Bill gestured vaguely back toward 18th Century with his curtain rod cane. "From the lost-and-found they came, to the lost-and-found they shall return."

Stan, having had his attention called to the curtain rod cane, snatched it out of Bill's hand with a muttered "No weapons," and tossed it in a nearby trash can. Bill watched it go with an expression of miffed resignation. Stan said, "Okay, but how'd you get the security tags off all of those?"

And Bill's grin was back. "Maybe I'll show you—if you show me how you got all that clothing out of those bags into your pockets."

"I thought you were watching."

"My eye is better than my physical coordination. Give me a couple pointers and I'll give you a couple."

Stan looked doubtful. "I just saw you hide half a suitcase under a tank top. I don't think you need any more help with..."

"I'll sweeten the deal," Bill said. "I'm not really a clogs guy. You set me up to walk out with a pair of proper dress shoes, and I'll help you grab a couple rings from that booth at the door?"

Stan scowled. Bill grinned wider. "Come ooon. I know you were eyeing those rings too."

"If we get caught and you throw me under the bus, I'm dragging you down with me."

"I wouldn't dream of it! I don't think either of us can afford to show up on the police's radar, do you?"

"All right, fine. You've got yourself a deal, Cipher."

Mabel silently slid her cell phone over to Dipper so he could text Soos and Ford about this unsettling development.

####

(Thanks for reading!! As always, if you made it this far I deeply appreciate any thoughts & comments you want to share! Stay tuned next week for the unsettling development to get Even Worse.)

[your-very-rude-neighborhood-ace]

pg-13 remake of gravity falls where everything is the same except dipper can say fuck and also kills dippy fresh

[justonecitizenoftheearth]

So, I wrote this story a while ago:

This is a fanfiction about an old norse text! My friend proofread my final thesis about men who used a certain kind of magic in ancient northern Europe. This kind of magic is very strongly connected to women, so men using it were seen as unmanly, or ergi in old norse, which is also a term used for gay men. There is one story in the Heimskringla, a text about the first kings of Norway, about 80 wizards who practice this magic called seiðr living together. My friend liked the gay wizard commune very much, was very disappointed by their gruesome end, and asked for a fix-it. So here it is: The Saga of Rögnvald réttilbeini!

AAANNND: It has a sequel now (or more of an addition)!! You are holding in your hands (metaphorically):

The Travels of Rögnvald Rettilbeini

When Rögnvald leaves the oppressive enclosure of living with his disapproving family and community, he sets out on a travel through the Wilderness of middle-age Norway. Alone with nature around him, he learns to listen to the voices of the forest around him and trust his instincts and intuition. He makes it through a beautiful summer and a tough winter, but questions start to plague him when the loneliness of his solitary life becomes more and more of a burden. Is he cursed to only find shelter away from other people? Will he never belong anywhere but the solitude of the forest?

Read it on AO3

Rating: G

WARNING! This is about wilderness survival, and that includes hunting and killing animals, as well as processing their bodies. If that is something that you don´t want to read about, this story is unfortunately not for you.

@disorganisedautodidact

@fiifuchs

At the gate, Rögnvald hesitated. He was about to leave his home behind. His whole world, up to this day. His heart clenched, thinking about his grandmother. Rögnvald was about to turn his head, to look back at the long hall of his father, and the rest of the town. But then the memory of all the harassment, the bad looks he had endured for years, the pressure and disappointment flooded back. This was not a home. This was no place to stay. Solveig was gone and he would never be free to be who he was if he stayed here. With a deep breath, Rögnvald stepped over the threshold. The mountains were calling, and he had to go.

The forest embraced him like every time and soothed his wounded heart. The soft rustle of leaves and branches, the hum of insects and the occasional call of a bird welcomed him, and he lifted his head from his feet to watch the sun filter through the clouds and trees to paint intricate patterns onto the mossy forest floor. Rögnvalds steps were effortlessly soundless as he moved on, without haste, but steadily upwards. The wind carried the smell of the ocean up to him, salt and algae and freshness and he took a deep breath and smiled. This was home, and it was everywhere. With a new confidence in his movements, he lifted his head up to the sky.

The bright summer night found Rögnvald sitting on the edge of a small, but steep river. He crouched down on a rock, with his fishing spear in one hand and the other hand pressed against the wet stone. He closed his eyes and listened to the song of the water, the many different voices of it´s symphony, the wind whistling over the gorge, the flutter of a bird’s wing. He felt the force of the river striving towards the sea and the creatures in it, reading it´s direction, following or opposing it´s strong current. The heard the splash of a Dipper diving into the water and shortly after reemerging with its catch, struggling for a moment to climb to shore. He heard an eagle, a bit upstream, waiting for its chance. Slowly, he opened his eyes, just a slit, motionless he waited, part of the land, part of the hunt. He felt his prey approaching, before he saw a single scale. He caressed the fish with soft thoughts, coaxing it closer and closer and with a single movement, he speared the trout. Carefully, he pulled the fish out, marveling at the colorful body. “Thank you”, he whispered to the wind, before he took his catch back to his little fire at the ground of the gorge.

Rögnvald didn´t have a plan where to go, he didn´t have anywhere to be. He stayed close to the gorge for three days, then he moved on. He slept under the stars when the weather was nice and clear and under fallen trees and big boulders when it wasn´t. Some of the boulders he knew weren´t his to use and he avoided them. Sometimes he had something to leave there, a nice rock he had found, a feather, a piece of fish or meat. He left it at the edge of the rock and good things always followed. Either he found an even better spot to spend the night, or he stumbled upon a batch of or wild strawberries, or he had a particularly good hunt that evening. He learned to respect the forest folk and they respected him. Rögnvald learned to listen to all the voices of the forest, his inner voice included. With every day, he trusted his instincts and intuitions more until the decisions he had to make every day to ensure his survival came so naturally to him that he stopped realizing they were decisions. He started living like one of the other forest creatures, free and without worries, without plans and without a real sense for the time passing. He sang with the birds and wolves, danced with the wind and leaves, hunted with the bears and eagles, hid from stormy weathers with the hares and mice or endured it with the pines and willows.

Of course, it wasn´t always easy. Sometimes the fish and game ignored his calls and he had to go hungry, since it wasn´t time for berries or mushrooms yet and wild herbs did only get him so far, but in this situations, he often remembered something that his grandmother had told him, but that he hadn´t used since then. When he stomped through an overgrown meadow, the smell of the crushed plants rose to his nose and he realized it was ground elder. Together with the stinging nettles he found, it made a rich dinner[1] . The geese came back to breed and he had eggs and the occasional goose. Summer came in all its richness and he drank blueberry soup until his lips were permanently blue. One precious day he found a nest of wild bees and the stings were worth the feast. When he left the place, he saw a bear trot out from the trees. Cautious, Rögnvald stopped, but when their eyes met, he saw a kind of companionship that he hadn´t expected. Part of the forest, part of the dance of life. He smiled and licked his honeyed lips.

Life around him flourished and the days were long, there was no darkness anymore, just a soft twilight in the quiet hours of the deep night that soon blossomed in another bright day. Rögnvald swam in the mountain lakes and cold rivers, then he lay in the sun until it had dried and warmed his cold skin. He was lean and muscular, tanned of the countless days under the summer sun. His step was soft and sure and his eyes calm and keen as a wild animal´s. He seldomly talked, not even to himself, he rather imitated the many beings around him. His days in the constricting closeness of the town seemed to be bland and far, far away.

The mountains around him rose higher and higher up into the sky. Rögnvald kept to the valleys at first, following the rivers coming down from the heights. He fished and hunted, collected berries, made tea from the fresh new tips of spruces, and dug for edible roots. Summer followed him up the mountains, making life flourish around him. One morning, he looked up at the barren summits of the surrounding mountains and took up his staff. He left the valley, finding a path between the overgrown trees and boulders in the forest. He climbed up over steep passages, moving left and right to find the safest way up to the top. The trees around him dwindled, they lessened in height, then in number, opening a path for him. He had to balance over the cover of blueberry bushes and needed his staff more than once when he stepped into an invisible hole. But the vegetation around him grew shorter and the wind sharper. He looked up and saw a wondrous land. Grim and rough, but full of a foreign beauty. Barren rock and low bushes lay scattered over the plateau. He saw water glittering in the distance and the wind whistled over the open land. A few reindeer grazed in the distance and the clouds moved fast over the blue sky. And then he turned around.

The view was breathtaking. Far below, he saw the valley of the river that he had followed. Only in a few places the trees drew back enough to allow the glint of the water to reach Rögnvalds eyes. The forest below swayed in the breeze. The mountains on the other side of the valley rose up even higher into the sky then the ones that he had just climbed. A white sheet of snow and ice covered their tops, and ran down into the cracks in the mountain sides. On the way down, the ice crumbled, crevasses crossing and breaking up the smooth surface, unveiling a shimmer of the deepest blue. Rögnvald stared at the mighty glacier, following the lines of the breaking ice. Cloud shadows drifted over the snow-covered surface and drew patterns on it. The wind changed direction and carried the icy cold over the mountains, raising goosebumps on Rögnvalds arms. He tilted his head and when he looked at the glacier again, his newfound instincts started to ring an alarm in his head, louder and louder. This was not his place. It looked beautiful and smooth, like a walk on a fluffy cloud, but the bitter cold and the multitude of cracks in the ice were a warning to all who would hear it. This was not a place that would suffer a living being setting foot on it. This was the land of gods and giants. Rögnvald bowed his head in understanding and turned around again, to face the barren tundra he had worked so hard for to reach.

The mountain plateau was littered with little lakes and wetlands. Rögnvald saw a multitude of different birds, he heard their warning calls, and they fluttered around him as he explored the new land. After the weeks in the forest, he felt exposed in this open landscape, the wide-open sky a stark contrast to the cover of leaves he had rarely left. The reindeer avoided him, but he saw a wolverine following their tracks and kept his distance. A polar fox looked at him curiously, but then continued to hunt for ptarmigans. The traveler considered to follow his example, but looking around, he found that he would not find enough material for a fire, so he decided to wait until he would make his way back to the valley. The plants he found were so interesting though that he forgot about time.[2]  He found blueberries, lingonberries, and cloudberries. It seemed that the vegetation on the protected southern slopes was completely different from the barren tops or the northern slopes and Rögnvald collected and explored until the sun sank behind one of the flat mountain tops. He frowned, since he hadn´t planned on staying in the open tundra throughout the night, but he had come prepared anyways.

Rögnvald found a grassy, dry spot next to a stream where he sat down. The birds settled for the night and fell quiet one by one. Nothing could be heard except for the wind and the murmur of water. Rögnvald spread out his fur and blanket and ate some of his dried provisions while the shadows grew deeper. He closed his eyes and stretched his mind to the land in a gentle plea to leave him in peace during the night, as he would bring nothing but peace during the dark hours. Then he curled up in his blanket and fell asleep to the sweet song of the running water close to him.

A strange light woke him up at an unusual time. He was used to the light summer nights, but they had been diminishing, the darkness crawling back in the small hours. But now, as he opened his eyes, he was met by a clear sky, littered with stars. The northern horizon was still a bit light, but the dark sky above him, unobscured by trees, houses, or the shine of torches, looked like a coat covered in diamond shards. Never had Rögnvald slept under a sky that open and for a moment, he dug his hands into the grass underneath him, scared of falling in the endlessness above. But then he did nothing but marvel, until the eastern horizon turned pink with the dawn of the new day and the stars blinked out. Then Rögnvald fell asleep again, feeling richer and smaller than ever before.

On the way back to his valley, Rögnvald shot two ptarmigans, as he had planned. He couldn´t help but notice the first leaves of the dwarf birches turning yellow. “Autumn always sends his messengers ahead of time”, he thought, already dreaming about the ptarmigans sizzling over his fire.

Until he woke one morning, and the world was covered in a thin layer of white. It melted soon enough, but winter would come, and he had to be prepared for it. So Rögnvald turned around and made his way towards the shore, out of the mountains that would turn into a frozen wasteland soon enough. The fjords always bore the risk of meeting people, but at least they would stay open during the winter. Rögnvald found a cave next to a small river that he would be able to follow down to the Sørfjorden, and he began to prepare. He collected grass and dried it in the last warm days of the year. He collected more firewood than he could think of ever needing, and wild apples, berries and mushrooms, which he dried as well. One more time he made his way up to the high mountains to hunt. He got into a terrible snowstorm and only the familiar valley singing its sweet song led him back to safety, but he was dragging a reindeer with him to the cave.

Drying the meat and working on the skin of the reindeer took days of hard, frustrating, and dirty work and when Rögnvald looked up again, the forest floor was covered with fallen leaves. It made it easy to hear the rustle of paws and Rögnvald hunted smaller prey, rabbits and deer, the work seemed never ending and the shortening days were filled with preserving everything he had collected. He dried the sinews of the animals and kept them smooth with their fat, then used them to sew gloves, a hat, and gaiters for himself. He coated his leather boots with the same fat to make them waterproof and added an inner layer of duck down, so they would keep himself warm. The nights turned frosty, and the edges of the river wore ice in the mornings. The sun only peeked over the mountain tops in midday and barely warmed Rögnvald anymore. The land grew quiet, and he grew anxious. Had he done enough? Had he forgotten something? How long would the winter last in this part of the land? Would the fjord stay open, so he would be able to live off of the sea if nothing else? He desperately missed Solveig and not being alone. For the first time since he had left, he missed the voices of other people around him, the comfort of not being the only human being in an unforgiving and harsh wilderness. He awoke at night with wet cheeks and an aching chest and wondered if that was the price for being himself and if he was willing to pay it.

Winter came, unforgiving and uncaring and more beautiful than Rögnvald remembered. The glittering snow and ice made him reach out more than once in wonder, only to have the unique crystals melt on his gloves. Then the days turned dark and bitingly cold for real and Rögnvald barely left his cave. He barred the entrance and only left space for the smoke of his fire to escape. The inside of the cave turned smoky anyways and he sank into a kind of waiting slumber. He slept most of the time, having dark and light and wonderous and frightening dreams, barely noticing whether it was night or day, eating when he was hungry and watching a spot of light that came through a hole in the cover of the barricade wander of the side of his cave when the sun shone for precious few hours. One day he thought with a smile that he would never look at bears and squirrels the same. His thoughts became slow and drowsy, but one night he startled awake and knew that the longest night  had come. He felt dark powers stir and struggled out of bed to relight the fire. With a stumbling mind and shaking fingers he fought with the reluctant embers, mumbling invocations to the forces of nature and the gods of life and fertility. He strew sage into the flames and the fresh smell lifted the fog in his head a bit. With the clarity came the crushing awareness of how alone he was. The deadly forces that awoke in the darkest time of the year screamed and whispered cruel things in his mind and he swayed back and forth in front of the flames. Then he heard a different voice, the voice of his grandmother. He heard her soft songs of live and growth and warmth and with a breaking voice, he joined in. Singing and crying, he made it through the night.

Rögnvald stayed more awake during the dangerous days between the years, and every day, the sun stayed longer. But the cold wouldn´t retreat for a long time and he looked at his shrinking provisions with worry. He had known that they wouldn´t bring him through the winter, but he hadn´t expected his own apathy. Now he would have to go out again to hunt and forage what he could find.

Rögnvald started to lay out traps for snow hares and birds and made his way down to the fjord. He collected clams and oysters, but getting his hands wet was painful and dangerous. He tried to fish, but the fish stayed in deeper waters where he couldn´t reach them. At least he could keep the kelp that he pulled out of the sea to eat. On the way back he checked his traps. One had been successful, but a lynx had found his catch before he did, and he found just one foot and some bloody fur in the snow. Rögnvald shrugged, he was not the only being trying to survive the winter. He would try again the next day. He made soup out of the clams and kelp and dozed off, tired from the walk through the high snow.

The next day came with howling winds and snowdrifts. With worry in his belly, he ate the last of his soup. He still had some provisions, but they wouldn´t last much longer and if he got sick or hurt, he wouldn´t survive without them. So Rögnvald kept to tea and decided to wait.

The storm lasted for days and after that, it was nearly impossible to leave the cave. Rögnvald swallowed hard when he saw the wall of frozen white that awaited him in front of his door. His heart clenched painfully, and he knew instinctively that  he would have to fight for his survival from now on. He dug a way out into the snow, but soon understood that it would be impossible to get down to the fjord in one day. Instead, he dug his way to the river and hoped other beings would find their way there, but it was frozen and wouldn´t provide water to any being. Fear gripped his heart tight. Would this first winter be his last? Why didn´t he prepare sooner? Why didn´t he think about winter when there was an abundance of everything? Why had he been so stupid, stupid enough to die in the winter of the first year he had tasted how sweet life could be? He felt his chest getting tight and he stood in the freezing wind, tears cooling on his skin and gasping for air. Then he balled his fists. His blood was still flowing, and his arms were not yet stiff and cold. He was not dead yet! 

Rögnvald wiped his face and closed his eyes. He forced his fear back until he was as indifferent to it as to the rustling of the wind in the bare branches. He listened with all his senses. He listened to the wind above him and searched for life in the river below. He thought of the lynx that could hear mice rustling in their burrows, even under the ground and a snow cover half as thick as a man tall. He thought of the raven, soaring above, and searching the white wilderness for signs of carrion. He thought of the wolves, following the scent of reindeers for days. He listened deep into this vast wilderness. There was a lake, and still fish in the depths of it. There was better weather coming, no tinkling of new snowflakes came from the clouds above. There were still animals in the woods around, and he would find them. He would survive!

Rögnvald prepared fishing rods and bait, he took his axe and made his way up to the frozen lake. It was hard work to hack a hole into the thick ice, but when he lowered the bait on the hook into the dark water and filled his waterskin with it, he couldn´t help but hope. He searched the surrounding forest for tracks and laid out traps for rabbits, foxes, or other small game. Then he waited. He huddled himself in the fur and shuddered. The wind drew mesmerizing patterns into the snow. The sun was veiled by a thin layer of clouds, casting a shadowless half-light from its position low over the horizon. Rögnvald listened to the gurgle of water, the groaning of the thick icesheet under his feet, the whisper of the wind. He heard the low rustling and thumping of snow falling off of trees. He heard the bright tingling in the clouds, almost out of his hearing range, the sound of snowflakes being swept away, blown off the mountains in the harsh wind. He closed his eyes and listened. The wind. The snow. He heard a snuffling under the snow and the quiet, so quiet squeak of a mouse. A crunching sound in the forest spoke of big paws that broke the surface of the snow. A lynx, listening to the same quiet sounds of life that he was. Then he sent his attention to the water that was splashing against the sides of the ice hole, already starting to freeze over. He breathed deep as if he was about to plunge into the freezing depth, and sent his spirit down. It was dark. Cold. Nothing moved. He moved deeper. There, a dark shape, flowing in a weak current. Some kind of seaweed. And then, a fin. A plump body. Slow movements. Rögnvald almost heard the voice of his grandmother. He felt a power rush through him, the ancient drive to survive, the hunger, the desperation. And something different. Something more than he was, more than he could understand, but he gripped it tight, and called. He coaxed and tempted, gave the plump body some of his power, some of his hunger, showed the way to the bait, gave the fish an impression of the satisfaction that he had felt eating the same food. Begged and threatened and poured everything he had into making the fish do something that he wanted it to do. And he startled awake back into his body when the fishing rod in his hand started to jump.

That night, Rögnvald curled up as close to the fire as he dared, sucking every bit of meat off the thin bones of the fish, while trying to ignore the bit that was wrapped in a bit of bark. He would be glad for it the next morning. And he was, since the traps came back empty, and he didn´t find a fish to call. Everything became a struggle. Digging the way to the shore. Keeping the fire going. Finding enough wood to feed it. Going out to find food, day after day. He felled a birch, taking the outer layer of bark for the fire and scraped off the soft bark underneath, baking dry bark bread. The cold sapped him of energy and he tried to spend as little time outside as possible, laying down and resting whenever he could. He became cold easier and longed endlessly for light and warmth as snowstorms howled around his shelter and let him shudder. He rolled himself tighter into his furs. A deep-seated instinct told him that if he should fall sick, he wouldn´t see the green of a new spring. He ate any animal that he could catch. He didn´t hesitate to, in his drive to survive he thought as little about morals and fairness as the lynxes and wolves whose trails he found in the snow.

Rögnvald saw the sun rise higher every day. He soaked up the light and warmth, sitting in front of his cave and hiding from the frosty winds, capturing every bit of energy that was sent his way. When the snow started to melt, he had an easier time moving around and could roam farther to look for food and firewood. He watched the snow melt with a grim satisfaction. He had outlasted the winter.

The first green of spring found Rögnvald thin as a bear waking from winter hibernation. His clothes hung loosely around his frame, his face was sharp and angled and his eyes had a wild, intense look that would have taken aback even the fiercest warrior of his town. But there was no one around to witness him fall to his knees when he found the first dandelion, digging it up with the roots, wash it and look at it, disbelieving, until he ate it, leaf by leaf, until he devoured the root in tiny, grateful bites.

The snow persisted still in shadowy spots, defying the strengthened sun and the regular rainfall, when Rögnvald left the cave. He made his way down towards the fjord, and following it on narrow paths north. He didn´t go long each day, still trying to preserve his energy, painfully aware of how little reserves his body had left. But he found progressively more food and with warmth and life returning to the sea, he had more plentiful meals and regained his strength quickly. The warm spring days revived his spirit, and the more varied food did wonders for his body. Soon, he was running through the forest with the deer, as sure on his foot as they, he danced with the birds and called out to the geese returning from their winter quarters. He bathed and washed the grime and fear of the long winter off in the icy melting water that streamed down the mountains and laughed at the glitter of the water drops in the bright light. He found another cave and spent a few rainy days there, just languishing in the knowledge that he wouldn´t have to go far to find food this time. It took Rögnvald some time to follow the fjord up to Hardangerfjord, and he followed even that, but then had to decide whether to stick to the coast or to face the cold and wet mountains. He also found more and more signs of humans and realized that he didn´t know anymore how to meet them. He hid from their view, but listened to the voices, the songs and laughter of the people in their small settlements, a deep longing in his chest and his throat tight. He lounged under their windows, listening to them talking about banal things, banal everyday things that had never seemed sweeter and more precious than to this lone traveler, hiding in the wet grass and biting his hand to not cry aloud at the sound of children playing and their mother´s laugh. Never, he thought, never had anyone been lonelier. But when he heard steps on the threshold of the house, he melted into the forest, as effortless as any animal.

Rögnvald looked at himself in the reflection of a lake, his wild beard and hair, the angled face underneath, his torn and repaired clothes, the rough fur that he wore on top. They would not welcome him, not like this. Also, he didn´t have any money to buy anything and would be treated as a beggar. He still started to comb and braid his hair and beard, so he could travel on the streets without calling attention to himself, but he saw in the eyes of the people that he met that they could feel something was different about him. He avoided their gaze, their confusion, fear, and hostility, even their curiosity. But he didn´t get attacked and sometimes, only sometimes, someone greeted him, and so he decided to take the way through the next town. But almost as soon as he stepped foot into it, he knew that he shouldn´t have. Or at least should have seen this coming.

The road was muddy from the last rainfall, and his boots made a sucking sound every time he took a step. As did the boots of everyone else. The cacophony of people walking and the echoes catching between the wooden wall around the town caught Rögnvald off guard. Then a bunch of children came screeching and giggling around a corner and made him jump. The neigh of a horse and the rumble of a wagon made him flinch away and he knew that people looked at him suspiciously, so he tried to walk away, into the town centre. The sharp angles of the houses seemed to cut into his perception, making the sounds jump into every direction, the narrow passages tightening his chest. He passed by the market, the constant rush of voices, pitchmen trying to sell their goods, clamoring, bargaining with their customers, children, chiding mothers, farm animals grunting, neighing, and clucking. It was unbearable, impossible to grab a clear thought[3] . The smell of humans, food, feces, animals, and the rough ground made him gag. Rögnvald hid behind a corner, pressing his hands over his ears and his back into the solid wall, trying to grasp a clear thought, waiting for his frantic heart to calm. When a hand touched his shoulder, he almost lashed out, but instead threw himself to the side, where he lost balance and dipped into the stinking mud. His eyes flew open, and he stared into the insecure, but unafraid eyes of a young woman.

“Are you alright?”, she asked, slowly crouching next to him.

“I think… I don´t…”, Rögnvald tried to find his footing, in every sense of the word. While he got back up to his feet and waited for her to do the same, he thought about what it was he really needed.

“Do you know the way out of the town? Towards the east?”

She was taken aback for a second, but nodded and bade him to follow. He focused on her back in front of him, her curly light hair, her shoulders, the sound of her steps. It helped him to get through the ocean of sounds and smells. When she turned around to face him, he saw that they had reached the wooden gate. There were a lot less people around and the narrow road led into the forest, towards a steep gorge. He looked back at her. “Thank you so much.”

She shrugged. “My brother gets overwhelmed by too many people, too. Hurts his ears and head, he says.”

Rögnvald smiled. “But I´m not your brother and yet, you helped me.”

The woman shrugged again. “Most people think he´s insane. I know he isn´t, but nobody believes me. I didn´t want anyone else to find you like that.”

Rögnvald nodded. He had heard of people like her brother, and knew they often were ostracized. He reached into his pack and pulled out a small figure, a raven that he had carved in the endless winter hours in his cave, one that had been too well made to leave behind. He gave it to the woman with a little bow. “I hope your kindness returns to you sevenfold.” She took the figure automatically and marveled at the detailed work. When she looked up to decline or thank for the gift, she didn´t know which was appropriate, there was no one there. With a shudder, she stuffed the raven into a fold of her dress and turned away from the dark and mysterious forest, in which the dark and mysterious stranger had disappeared without a trace.

Rögnvald ran, his feet barely making a sound as he darted down the road and into the depth of the fresh new foliage. When he reached the stream at the bottom of the ravine, he stopped on a narrow bank of gravel, letting the rushing of the water and the rustling of the leaves in the wind calm his frayed nerves. He didn´t think it would be like that. He hadn´t known he had forgotten how to be amongst his own kind. He didn´t think it possible and it frightened him, to know that he didn´t know how to be amongst other humans. Was that his lot? Did winning the forest mean losing his own kind? Did he have to pick? Was there no other way? Shaken and wounded, he unbuckled his pack and lay down at the edge of the river. He let the whispering water sing him to sleep, while longing and dreading other voices, voices out of human throats and hearts.

Rögnvald found that the heights of the mountains were still wet, in the middle of thawing, but passable, so he slowly made his way east, crossing the mountain plateaus as fast as he could and spending more time in the lush valleys between them. It seemed to him that every time he came down from a few days of wet and cold, sinking into swamps and resting under bushes whose leaves barely showed as little green buds, the green valleys had more gifts to give. The first strawberries were a welcomed surprise, as were goose eggs and wild garlic. Live became plentiful once more, the nights light and the days warm. Soon, he was swimming again in the warming water of the lakes, and resting on the sun-warmed rocks beneath. He watched goslings and fawns taking their first steps into a bright and green world, knowing nothing about cold and winter. Rögnvald moved slowly, without a real goal, without knowing where exactly he wanted to go, turning east towards the broad river valley. He soaked up the glory of summer, the memory of the harsh winter still fresh in his mind, although it seemed absurd to him how he could have been that cold and that lonely. It was hard to forget how he had felt in the town, how overwhelmed and uncomfortable he had been, and with the bustling life all around him, it wasn´t as lonely. But he was also aware that he didn´t want to spend another winter like this, didn´t want to risk it again, didn´t want to face the terrible game of life and death, the darkness, the cold, without another soul at his side. He considered taking a wolf pup as a friend, but when he had finally found a litter and watched them play, watched their mother and the whole pack coddle and care for them, he knew that it would be cruel and wrong, so he left empty handed. He went to a little waterfall he had found, and looked at his thoughtful reflection in the water. He searched his features for traces of his grandmother, wanted to feel like her wisdom did live in him, needing her close. Missing her so much that it felt like his heart was going to rip apart. “What should I do, grandmother? Where will I find someone like me? Where do I go from here? Or am I cursed, doomed to live alone forever? What am I supposed to do now?” He whispered all his fears and feelings and the thoughts that plagued him at night out into the open air, to be washed clean by the brook he was sitting at, and when his thoughts had finally cleared and he had spit out all fears that had poisoned his mind, he could hear Solveig speak, as if she was sitting right next to him. “Go north and west. North and west. North. And. West.” It was clear. It was simple and he arouse lighter and surer of himself than he had come.

Knowing that he was on the right path gave Rögnvald the peace of mind to enjoy the gifts of summer around him, to light a big fire and dance around it when midsummer came, even though he danced alone, he felt the invisible forces of the forest rejoice with him at the victory of the light. The bustling life around him kept him company and he continued to learn and listen to all the voices of the forest around him. He noticed the days getting shorter, but warmer still, and the world bloomed around him, and with every step north-west that he took, he nurtured his hopes, and a conviction grew in him that he would find what he was looking for. He wasn´t in a hurry. He had found his inner voice, and it was unwavering and infallible, and he followed it north and west in his own time.

The days passed on, he could gorge himself on blueberries and wild vegetables, caught fish and rabbits that were more than skin and bone and lean muscle, he collected the first wild cherries and carrots. Time passed on and every day was shorter than the last. The land grew steep again and Rögnvald crossed another mountain range, harsh and beautiful as life itself. When the land started to lower under his feet, he knew he was nearing the coast. A little nervous voice asked him what would happen when there was nothing but the sea in front of him, when nothing but icy waves awaited him north and west. He asked himself if he was supposed to take the long journey to Iceland, if that was where fate was leading him, and wondered how he could make that happen. But his conviction was strong. If Iceland was the place he was supposed to reach, to Iceland he would go.

When Rögnvald awoke, his breath in front of his face came out as a white cloud, mixing with the fog around him. The sun was a dim speck of light behind the veil, and his reindeer fur was glittering with droplets. Shuddering, he tried to relight the fire from the day before, his hands clammy and his teeth chattering. It had been some time since sleeping outside had made him feel that cold. The hot tea, made of dried mint that he had found the week prior, revived him though, and the sun soon dissolved the fog. He looked back up the mountains that he had crossed, and the steep flanks glittered suspiciously. Frost was creeping back towards the land, and he remembered how he left the high mountains for the first time the year before. “Autumn always sends his messengers ahead of time”, he murmured to himself, smiling at how confident he had been. The smile died though when he thought about the fact that he hadn´t started to prepare for winter now, either. He hadn´t planned on it. He had been convinced that he would have found wherever his feeling, his intuition would lead him, before that was necessary. It was too late to go to Iceland that year, by the time he would have found someone willing to take him onboard, autumn storms would have made the North Sea unpassable. With a deep breath he banned his anxious thoughts. There was a reason he had come here. There was something waiting for him, and he would be fine. Something. Or someone. He grabbed his walking stick, smooth from the many hours in his hands, and started to walk.

Rögnvald made his way downhill and towards the Sognefjord. He was sure footed and the rising temperatures as the morning turned into midday lifted his mood. He still had time. When the day reached its end, Rögnvald reached the edge of the forest and stepped onto a meadow, still littered with flowers. From here, he had a wide view of the fjord, the glittering water spreading out underneath him, and the mountains rising in the north. A huge ice cap covered the mountain range west to east, like a sign: You can´t go further north. This is the end of your journey. Peace settled over Rögnvald, a peace and contentedness that he couldn´t explain. He stayed for a moment longer, enjoying the view and watching a few sheep around him graze. Their bleating made him smile.

The rustling sound of steps behind him made him turn around. A man smiled at him; his face alit by the soft glow of the setting sun. Rögnvald noticed long blond hair, shining green eyes and a firm grip as they greeted each other. The strangers´ voice was deep and rich as he announced his name:

“Frodi”

“Rögnvald”

They smiled at each other and Rögnvald followed back to Frodis hut.

[seven-stars-in-his-palm]

hi mania. i am so tired and bored. im gonna spam yew with stan gifs because he is the guy ever and i think about him frequently

tbh this above gif is so parallel ford coded. he would fuckinh say that, probably with different wording but also he is so Issues. imagine if the kids gave ford the truth teeth somehow. i mean it technically wouldn't rlly work because unlike stan he Still Has teeth but imagine like hypothetically if it happened. imagine the Horrors. like

"hi grunkle ford :) how're you feeling today?"

"oh! good morning, mabel! i'm just grieving the loss of my brother whom i haven't seen in 30 years. i feel personally responsible for driving him away and possibly leading to his untimely death! how are you doing today :]"

"😶"

tbh. in canon truth teeth stan wpuldve probably let something slip about ford but it's a cartoon gotta Suspend ur Disbelief to imagine that somehow didn't happen

actually like. how do the truth teeth work that way. the wearer clearly has no problem with what they're saying. do they not realize they're telling the truth when they didn't mean to??? do they think they're still giving the same answer as they would've pre-truth teeth??? is lying by omission possible??? could you just pull a Selective Mute and not say anything and avoid telling the truth that way . i mean given you knew you were wearing the teeth but

actually that doesn't even make sense bc in the gif i just sent stan started getting existential Completely unprompted. that makes the chances that he didn't allude to ford that day Even Lower. again it's a cartoon so i'll accept it but like wow

god i sound like dipper rn. sorry for dumping a full analysis in ur inbox LMAO. speaking of dipper here's a gif of the storyboards where he kills dippy fresh bc that shows up if you search stan pines gifs and scroll reallu far down ig

this should've happened idc 💔 letmmy boy KILL

I’m thinking about truth teeth now…. Like what I thought happened was what u said, which is that Stan doesn’t know what he’s saying at all so the truth is completely unaware but also prompted. like I guess it goes both ways where if he’s asked a question he’ll answer unwillingly because well it’s FORCING you to tell the truth, and whenever he has a particularly truthful thought it just comes out. Which is even more odd why ford wasn’t mentioned….. hmmmmm. unlike you I Questioning that, especially since alex knew stan was gonna have a secret twin for most of this….. hmm. HMM. anyways. Yes Yes Yes on the ford thing. They all need therapy. God

[i-am-blue15]

Mystery Kids: Classic Monsters Headcanons:

Dipper: Werewolf

.Transforms at night regardless of the moon’s phase.

.Often becomes ridden with fleas and ticks, so he takes frequent baths and has a faint scent of oatmeal.

.Like with Coraline and Lili, he can’t eat with silver spoons, forks, or knives, so has to use plastic utensils.

.Has the urge to chase animals like the cat and waddles but never kills them.

.Chews random objects like his pen, the TV remote, pillows, etc.

Mabel: Witch

.Is in charge of finding a cure or reverse spell to change the guys back, with little success.

.Often recites different phrases and quotes from movies involving magic and witches.

.Throws enchanted kitchen dance parties with plates flying, loud music (jump in the line) and playing limbo with her broom. 

.Goes foraging for ingredients with Dipper and his sense of smell, either looking for hair from a gnome, fungus from a gremlobin’s shoulders, sweat from a manotaur, etc (Yeah, just about every gross thing you can find in Gravity Falls. Poor Dipper)

.Attempts to convince the others to try her new spooky makeup ideas like carefully braiding Lili’s sentient snake hair or applying goth makeup for Coraline’s pale cheeks, lips and eyelids.

Coraline: Vampire 

.Doesn't need to drink blood but finds herself eating and drinking red stuff like apples or cranberry juice.

.Her eyes have become more sensitive to bright lights and colors. She even wears more darker clothing as opposed to her usual fashion to make it easier on them.

.She can transform into different animals. (Such as a bat, cat, mouse, wolf etc.)

.Crawls up walls and hangs from ceilings. Sometimes you can find her ranting while pacing upside down.

.She doesn't have a reflection in mirrors and is bummed about it but Mabel support her by saying, "Girl, you look good in everything! Even with blood red eyes and a ghostly pale face."

.She can mesmerize others but this requires her full concentration to keep them under her control and can only hypnotize a few people at close range.

Wybie: Reanimated Corpse (Frankenstein’s Monster)

.Runs on electricity so needs to recharge every so often. When he’s low he becomes sluggish and unproductive with making his projects.

.Can’t feel pain so he doesn’t notice one of his arms rips off again or even if he’s on fire from another failed experiment.

.He can transfer his electricity to machines, appliances and even his own inventions.

.Can also collect energy from outside sources but has to be mindful of much energy he’s absorbing. If not released, his behavior changes as he is more hyper and aggressive and can burn himself out.

.Luckily he is filled with cotton, but this leaves the others perplexed on how he can eat and drink if he doesn't have a stomach.

Norman: Dullahan (Headless Horseman)

.Aside from his head, the rest of his body is merely a whole suit of armor. 

.Like with Wybie, he can also eat and drink despite not having any organs below. Where does it all go? Maybe we’ll never know.

.He has the power to summon an undead steed to get around. He will only ever let Norman ride him and is is rather affectionate towards him.

.If his head is lost or misplaced, it can be called back to his body using some sort of “spectral tether”.

.His head is engulfed in a green spectral flame. These flames either weaken or rise depending on his emotions.

Neil: Gargoyle

.Like Coraline, he can't survive in sunlight or else he'll turn into a lifeless statue unless he's pulled back into darkness.

.He's extremely tough and durable. If he were to ever fall from a great height, the crash would barely leave a scratch.

.He can change from gargoyle to human, not completely though.

.He can breath fire but if he spews too much in a short time, he'll become lightheaded and dizzy, since it takes a lot of oxygen and carbon dioxide.

Raz: Swamp Creature (Creature of the Black Lagoon)

.He’s thrilled his new form allows to enjoy being water (Though only in fresh water).

.It also gives him to opportunity to further expand his hydrokinesis.

.Due to being amphibious, he can’t go too long without water (whether by swimming in or drinking it) and gets dehydrated quickly.

.Often gets static shocked by Wybie just by standing next to him.

.Gives him an idea for a new stunt for the circus like” The Flying Fish Boy and his rings of water!".

.Can't eat food containing a lot of salt or else his mouth and throat will dry.

Lili: Gorgon (Medusa)

.The others are immune to her petrifying gaze as they were all cursed with the same spell.

.Often makes death threats like paralyzing them with her venom or constricting them with her long tail.

.Her hair snakes express her emotions like whenever she kisses Raz's cheek, they give him little pecks all over his face.

.Gloats about being technically taller than Coraline now.

.Has to wear a blindfold when people are around. Luckily, her clairvoyance makes up for that and also has Raz to guide her while holding his hand.

[wanderingspirt47]

Warning: 100% a joke, please don’t get mad. Also spoiler for CIDR and Danganronpa as a whole.

Who you think is the character 1 killer says about you (CIDR)

Dipper- you want someone else to be the protag.

Mable- your favorite Danganronpa class trial was v3 chapter 1. That or you love angst.

Ed- same thing with mable but you can’t wait for chapter 4 to kill the “big strong guy”

Eddy- you just want him to have a cool execution. That’s it.

Carman- you were on of those people who actually believe nagito was the killer in chapter 1 of Danganronpa 2

Charlotte- you love to watch Mikan edits.

Vendetta- you love watching Celestia edits. That and you want a cool execution for her as well.

Dib- your a shuichixkaito fan who loves angst, and your inpatient.

Zim- you believe that thechessyb will kill his favorite son first chance he can get.

Gaz- you just hate her. Like that’s it-

Blossom- you look at the leader character as fresh meat.

Bubbles- you think her snapping is more possible than Charlotte, I mean your right…

Kyle- you DONT want Carman to be the antagonist. Also your favorite death/character arc was miu.

Morty- there’s 3 options. 1. Your either a person who thinks way to much on CIDR, 2. You the person who read the whole post on Mortys theory. Or 3. You are a people pleaser who just wants SOMEONE to die.

Jenny- you want to bury the gays as fast as you can.

Star- you loved both chapter 1 and 4 for the original Danganronpa. That and you just want star to survive.

CIDR belongs to thatcheesyb on YouTube. Check it out!

[harpydrawsstuff]

Wirt and Morty despise each other at the start when they meet, because:

1. Morty’s bad at social interaction and usually comes off as rude or people are so intimidated by his cold nature they don’t talk to him at all

2. Some people think Wirt is arrogant and snobby with how he dresses and how well he does at school, he’s pretty confident with his scholar abilities but he doesn’t talk much either

3. SO THEY JUST SIDE EYE EACH OTHER AND THINK “Who tf is this guy what the hell”

4. In the end they manage to get along and Morty acquires an older brother figure (that he never had) :)

I dunno, maybe I’ll even make Wirt show up sooner in the AU, because he doesn’t show up until they’re all 16 and I haven’t even come up with EVERYTHING that happens when they’re 14 💀

By the way, Wirt just fucking killed the Beast in this AU, because he does have his own magic and a ceremonial axe his father has gifted him, so lord forgive he doesn’t use it.

I also doodled something, just to potentially show how Wirt and Morty getting along could go :)

Just Morty opening up about his past as a child soldier in his old dimension, it’d make more sense if he would’ve met Wirt earlier on to tell him about it, but that’s still in the works.

THE THING IS

I’ve had this AU for a year, but I’m just now figuring things out for the characters, so everything’s still relatively fresh.

I’m planning to make Coraline and Mabel of higher importance too, since beyond their art school being shit and kind of being like Matilda there’s not much else.

So yeah. The ask just really made me think and I appreciate that

I may introduce Wirt earlier in the story now, because well. Morty, Wybie and Dipper are the main trio, but then Wirt gets added.

But the AU is called Mystery Squad, not Band#4 so. Shoves Mabel and Coraline in there as well. I highly doubt that Wirt would join them on space adventures until they’re 16, but there’s a bunch of paranormal stuff THAT I HAVENT THOUGHT ABOUT

man

Anyways

[itsthemysterykids]

The Mystery Kids switch cliques!

Coraline- Geek

Locker full of comics

Prefers to go by Cora

Tells people she’s a water bender

Always going to ComicCon

Cosplays whenever she can

“I’m not a nerd, I’m a geek! Learn the difference!”

Marvel and DC shirts

On good terms with Mabel, Neil, and Raz, seeing as they’re the ‘Loner Squad’

HATES BeBe ever since he trashed her fingerless gloves on a school morning announcement segment

Stan Lee and Chadwick Boseman shrine in her bedroom. Mourns them every Saturday morning

Dyed Mabel’s hair and paints Raz’s nails whenever he asks

Wybie- Prep

Goes by BeBe. No one knows his real name

Sarcastic

Mean, but he has a heart… It’s somewhere

Head anchor on the school’s morning announcements and has a segment where he roasts students’ fashion choices

Selfie. King.

Best friends with Lili

2 cool 4 u

Slaying in heels

Fashion icon

Desperately wants to give Mabel a makeover

Only knows Cora because her parents are renting one of his grandma’s apartments

Norman- Jock

Norman Babcock, captain of three teams. His mom is LOADED. She’s a divorce lawyer

Captain of the football, basketball, and baseball team

LOUD

Himbo

Willing to take on any dare

Count on him to bring the whole school to a party when you only invited like a few dozen

Carries Lili and BeBe on his shoulders during game days to build up his strength

Makes sure to give BeBe his letterman jacket during football games since he gets cold the easiest

Doesn’t seem like it, but he’s the mom friend of the popular kids

Neil- Nerd

Always gets Straight A’s

Hates tutoring since he lacks the patience

Has had his lunch try smacked away by Norman countless times

On good terms with Mabel since they’re always paired up for writing assignments

May or may not be coming up with revenge plots to use against the popular kids

Will give you the answers to a test… Only to snitch on you later

Has all his school textbooks on his tablet

Not sure how he got swept up in his friend group, but isn’t complaining

Carries a thermos full of coffee

Dipper- Skater

Goes by D-Fresh

90s kid at heart

One of the Popular Kids

Pretty good at rapping

Has a YouTube channel where he just posts his best moment on the halfpipe

Skates through the school halls

No one knows Mabel is his sister and he doesn’t bother bringing it up

One of the very few people allowed to take a selfie with BeBe and Lili

Always creating new slang everyone starts using

Mabel- Emo

Prefers to hang back while her brother soaks up the attention

Always seen in black or dark red

Reluctantly hangs out with Coraline because of Raz, but grows to like her when she walked into school wearing a Corpse Bride shirt

Liberated the live frogs that were going to be dissected

Feels a pang in her heart whenever Dipper ignores her at school

Neil is her life preserver in this hell hole they call school

Secretly wants to set Lili and BeBe on fire

Loves Monster x Human romance novels and wishes one would wisk her away

Secretly wishes she had Carrie’s powers

Raz- Goth

“I’m not a damn Emo! Mabel is!”

Became friends with Coraline when she helped fix his nail polish and sort of brought her into his group

Pretty good friends with Mabel despite their rival cliques

Owns a few spell books

Anarchist

Had a crush on Lili… What was he thinking?

Likes to crash the popular kids parties and play a bunch of death metal over the speakers

Helped Coraline throw an ‘Uncool Party’ for the social rejects at school

May or not be staging a revolution against the popular kids

Secret love for theater

Reads Stephen King novels with Mabel

Lili- Cheerleader

Captain of the squad

BSFFs (Best Shopping Friends Forever) with BeBe

Girl definitely owns a pony

Has that ‘Perfect Princess’ vibe going on

Runs the yearbook

Has over 10K followers

Everyone would kill for her to sign their yearbooks

Has every guy pining after her

Has spots in the yearbook reserved for her friends

Makes sure to tussle Norman’s hair for good luck before every game

“As your school president, I vow to get rid of exams, cafeteria food, nerds in ugly clothing.”

[sansxfuckyou]

An old friend

Summary: It has been years since anyone last set foot on Stans property, every since he had been hospitalized.

Dipper is planning on changing that with help from his sister, and maybe someone else.

Warnings: Cloning, hospital mention, implied suicide, abandoned buildings, implied blackmail, check tags for further warning.

Tagging: @max-the-hecker

Authors Note: I just watched the episode Double Dipper, trying to savor the 41 episodes, and let me tell you, the possibilities this opened up for me to write.

Hands in the pockets of his worn out navy vest Dipper walked out of the hospital, eyes stuck on the cracked pavement, he couldn't help but wish he could do something to fix Stan. He knew he couldn't, and he knew he shouldn't wish on it, but he couldn't help but care so much, Stan was his family after all. He kicked a rock across the ground before coming to a complete halt, taking note of the sound of footsteps rushing towards him. He stayed still while Mabel caught her breath, leaning on Dippers shoulder, she could practically feel the stress emanating from her brother.

"Do you, uh, do you wanna get some ice cream...?" Mabel asked, hoping it would cheer up her brother, she knew it wouldn't but, might as well try.

"No," Dipper replied with sharply as Mabel straightened out her posture and the two continued walking down the street. "I want things to be good again, I want Wendy to come back from the beyond, I want to go back home."

"Hey, Dip, it's gonna be ok," Mabel said, rubbing her brothers shoulder, brushing the tears from his face. "I can ask mom and dad to drive us back as soon as possible-"

"No!" Dipper snapped, expression quickly dropping as he tried to revoke his statement. "I-I mean, not really, I kind of want to head back to the, the Mystery Shack, or our old attic."

"Dipper, it's been shut behind chainmail fences, barbed wire and padlock upon padlock for years." Mabel said as they took a turn, coming up to the motel their direct family had rented two rooms in for their most recent visit, coming once every month just in case Stan doesn't last.

Gravity Falls has become stale, nothing new has happened in forever, Dipper and Mabel suspect the creatures have fled. Wendy is no longer in town, in a better place for lack of better terms, leaving both Mabel and Dipper with a fresh wound their parents don't understand whenever they bring up the trapper hat. Soos is still in town, but he's moved on from the Mystery Shack, holding onto the book Dipper once possessed for safekeeping, having returned it to the lad when he noticed Dipper back in town.

With a heavy heart Dipper swung open the door to the back seat of the car, Mabel slid in first till she was against the door opposite of the one Dipper opened. Dipper hopped in second, slamming the door shut and crossing his arms, pulling the comfort blanket from under himself and tossing it over to Mabel. Normally he would be fine leaning against the window and just sitting silently while the two wait for their parents, but today he was especially broken. He forcefully slammed his torso into Mabel who was unfazed by her brothers aggressive plea for attention, she simply wrapped an arm around his shoulder before draping the comfort blanket over him.

The two sat, marinating in the humid heat of the car, one window open just enough so they wouldn't suffocate in the mid summer heat of Gravity Falls. The silence drilled into Dippers head, maybe it was the blanket draped over his shoulders causing to much heat, was he getting heat stroke? No, he knew what heat stroke felt like, this most likely wasn't it, he sat up before twisting around a bit so his feet would be pressed against the window Mabel sat by, his torso on leather seating.

"Moms gonna kill you if you scratch the window." Mabel said, Dipper opted to rest his legs on the headrest behind Mabel who didn't seem to mind as she slouched against the window, one leg dropped nearly to floor behind the drivers seat, which was opposite to her, the other one resting on Dippers abdomen.

Dipper tossed the blanket on Mabel who tossed it back, they sat tossing a balled up blanket back and forth until their parents arrived and gave them the key to their room. The two rushed to reach their AC filled room, they found the key wouldn't fit perfectly due to the extreme heat causing the metal to expand. They took turns jamming the key into the door trying to unlock it, Mabel got closest to unlocking it before putting out a hand expectantly, Dipper reluctantly handing her the spare bobby pin he had learned to keep on hand.

When Mabel swung open the door they were greeted with a gust of chilling wind, they both heaved a sigh of relief as they dashed inside, Dipper ending up on the pullout couch before Mabel could take the preferred bedding. Mabel found herself throwing a half frozen root beer to Dipper who was greeted with an aluminum can to the face, he groaned in pain before popping the tab and taking a long slurp. Mabel swung her legs over the end of her bed, a can of orange crush in her hand, tongue stained the shade after she finished chugging the can with a satisfied sigh.

"You want to go to the Mystery Shack, right?" Mabel asked, the sudden question shocking Dipper into snapping up, ending up spilling soda on his shirt in the process, he quickly shed his orange shirt before the liquid could hit his skin.

"Yeah, kind of, but, I mean," Dipper said as he put his soda on the carpeted floor, tossing his now sticky shirt somewhere else. "But it got taken away from society when we could've kept it going."

"Dipper, we were fourteen-" Mabel tried to counter, be cut off sharply by dipper.

"Legal in some parts of Canada!" Dipper snapped, pointing a finger at his sister in an accusatory manner, Mabel rolled her eyes, Dipper giving a weak 'Sorry.' before lying down once again, propping his head on the arm rest at an angle that would cause problems later, he wished he could go back to working at the Mystery Shack like the good days, but no, just cause Stan got hospitalized the family business got driven into the dirt.

"Dip, do you want to go to the Mystery Shack or not?" Mabel asked sharply, Dipper nodded, unable to muster a proper vocal answer.

"Yeah, I do, but it's locked up." Dipper said with a sigh as he reached for a light blanket and turned away from Mabel, pulling the blanket over his head as he did so.

"I'm sure we could just, break in." Mabel offered, Dipper sat up slowly, still draped in blanket.

"Mabel, thats illegal." Was all Dipper had to say with a sigh of disappointment.

"Technically it's family property." Mabel stated as a counter argument, that gathered Dippers attention fully, he practically jumped to his feet as he tore through his suitcase for a fresh shirt.

"Then pack your fucking bag, let's go." Dipper said matter of factly before Mabel grabbed her backpack, emptying a few unneeded items, making sure she kept a battery pack, why she had one, no one was quite sure, but she knew she would need it one day.

---

Here we find Dipper and Mabel alike standing at the bottom of a chain link fence, barbed wire coiled in spirals at the top. Dipper put out a hand, Mabel handed him a pair wire clippers, he started working at the lowest possible row of wires, leaving only a foot to crawl through, up and down. Mabel crawled through first, able to slide through with ease, Dipper ended up ruining his hat

"Wow," Was all Dipper had to say. "They really let this place go to shit."

"Yeah man, they abandoned this place." Mabel said, nudging her brother with her elbow, smirking a bit before walking to the front door, Dipper followed close behind.

"Mabel, they didn't leave the door unlocked," Dipper said, Mabel jiggled the handle until it gave way and fell from its socket, that's certainly welcoming. "Mabel, you broke the door handle."

"I'm sure we'll be fine." Mabel said before pulling open the door slowly, a loud creak sounding off as rusted hinges fought to stay shut.

The two were greeted with a cloud of dust and a room coated in webs, some cob and others active. Oddly enough the light shining in from windows was enough to keep the room well lit, they even found that most of the souvenirs were still in place. Out of sheer curiosity, Dipper attempted to turn on the lights, finding the bulb flickered aggressively in an attempt to stay on, enough electricity for just barely one bulb.

"Mabel, can I have that battery pack," Dipper asked, Mabel gave a questioning look at his brothers question. "Please give me the battery pack, Mabel."

"Alright, I'll be on the roof if you need me." Mabel said before handing Dipper the battery pack and jumper cables, one can't simply go without the other.

"Kay, I'll be downstairs if you need me." Dipper said before sliding the battery pack and jumper cables into his own bag, tossing Mabel a can of cream soda, she caught it before walking up the now breaking ladder, Dipper heading to the basement.

Dipper pushed open the door slowly, finding that their was no light in the basement and the stairs faded into darkness. With a sigh he reached for his flashlight and flicked the switch, a cone of light shining down and lighting the way. The roof and stairs were covered in webbing, all of which cob, along with sticky and dried substances, he chose to believe were spilled pop. He took one step onto the first step, a loud creak sounded off, one that could've turned to a crack, he was lucky it didn't as he stepped further down.

When he reached the last step he realized how cold it was, he blindly reached for a light switch, flicking on the single light. It wasn't exactly bright, but it helped, he started on his way to the closest lamp that shone more light than the actual light in the basement. He found that nothing much had changed from what he remembered, one item was underneath a sheet though, and without anything better to do in an abandoned basement, he reached for the sheet and yanked it off.

Dipper was greeted with the sight of the old copy machine, the one that could copy human flesh and bring life to it.

He remembered what this machine had caused, he hated to think of it, he knew three and four were probably still out their living their best lives, none the wiser to Stans case.

He kicked the copy machine with a grumble, never wanting to see it again.

But, he might as well see if it still works, he did miss his copies.

He pulled off his bag before crouching and pulling out the needed items to try and jump start it. He unplugged the machine before hooking up each jumper cable to their respective location, unsure if this was even a mildly ok idea. Without a second thought he started the battery pack, everything was silent before the machine started to hum in contentment as electricity started to flow.

Shakily was how he lifted the lid of the machine, it snapped off, he hoped he could fix that as well. Hoping it wouldn't break under his weight he hopped on and laid down on his back, pressing the button on the side of the machine. He took note of the how the green strip of light tingled against his skin despite the vest and pants he wore, he had to refrain from squirming as his genetics were copied.

He heard the sound of paper being shot out as the green light shut off, he slid off the glass screen before waiting for the paper to finish printing.

As the paper fluttered down to the floor he stood expectantly for something good to happen.

Dipper sat on the creaking floor as he waited, nothing happened for quite some time, maybe he was wrong hoping that the old thing would work. He picked up the paper and held it in front of him, nearly dropping it when the copy started to push from the paper, he did fall back when he was hit with the full weight of his double. The internally rotting floorboards nearly snapped under their combined weight, they shared a look of fear.

They both scrambled to move from the floorboard, Tyrone ending up slamming himself into the copy machine, he gave a weak groan as his still forming body ached. Dipper ended up knocking the lamp off the edge of the counter, the bulb shattered with a high pitched sound as the metal cooled and dimmer. The two sat in near perfect darkness and silence, relatively heavy breathing the only thing that could be heard.

Tyrones heart beat pounded in his ears, suddenly back again after so long, how long had been out for?

Oh, he was confused.

He couldn't believe he had been brought back, a swarm of fresh memories hit him. His confusion turned to grief and stress in a second as he crossed his arms loosely.

"So, I guess you've forgiven me after so long." Tyrone said as he stood up, plain blue and white cap in his hands.

"Yeah, one could put things that way." Dipper said before standing up, rubbing one of his arms nervously.

"Ha, it's kind of awkward you know, I haven't been in existence for so long, yet, I'm back again, in your time of need, again," Tyrone said nervously, looking to the side as he rolled his eyes. "If you could call Grunkle Stan dying in a hospital a time of need."

"Guess so, it's been really rough lately, and I guess I wanted to see someone who would understand." Dipper said quietly.

"Do you want a hug or something?" Tyrone asked, considering he had only existed for only four and a half hours, he had no clue what was socially acceptable in this situation, didn't help he was Dipper, that only made things worse.

Dipper nodded slowly, nearly on the verge of crying, if it weren't for the distance he would've felt safe to body slam Tyrone as a hug substitute. Instead of a body slam he took a running start, knocking Tyrone back onto the printer, the battery kicked out of the way in the process. The edge of the printer dug into Tyrones back, but he didn't complain, simply attempted to comfort Dipper instead, not one hundred percent sure of how.

"Hey Dipper, do you have any more cream soda?!" Mabel shouted down the stairs as she slowly stepped down, coming to a complete halt when she reached the bottom.

Ever so slowly she raised her phone, smirk growing wider as Tyrone silently begged her not to, she ignored his silent plea as she snapped the picture.

"I guess my brothers gay for his clone."

"Mabel, this is nothing like what it looks like."

"Sure."

[skyfcx]

now we don’t have time to unpack all that. / dipper!

Content! Come get’cher content! || Prompt

     “......”

     Now, he was no expert in the FIELD, but... The vicious entities that he went up against during the daylight hours were mainly machines of various shapes and sizes whipped up by a mad doctor with a knack for robotics. 

     That? That was a nightmarish entity that lunged for the duo from the walls like it was footage for an upcoming horror movie. The wooden boards of the room shifted like skin and muscles; it was silent, stalking like a tiger with nary a sound. The very slight indication that danger was afoot had been the smallest quivers of delighted anticipation flexing through the floor. The tension of suspense, he felt the monster’s elation in his feet. The very same an animal comfortable with the hunt received before pouncing on its prey. 

     Did the face he’d seen in the walls own eyes? Did they slit with the joy of another fresh catch? Was his life about to be snuffed out in the throes of stunned confusion, never even fully grasping or processing what it was that had cut his existence short?

     ...Perhaps, if it wasn’t for Dipper’s hand grasping his, the clutch and following yank forward pulling the kit both back from the present dangers and back into reality. Sky-blue eyes blink once, twice...

     And those twin-tailed namesakes activate with a wild vigor, his friend’s words serving as all of the explanation he needed for a lifetime. “Truer words have never been spoken! I don’t want to be here anymore!” Curiosity wasn’t killing the kit this time! In the battle of fight or flight, flight won the polls by a landslide! And, in Tails’ case, the victory would manifest in the most literal of terms.

     It’s a flash of motion and a sudden transference of weight    gloves shift and clasp around the boy’s hand tightly as the leader of the dynamic took a sudden change in formation. Feel your shoes lose their footing as Dipper’s body was lifted off of the ground by the flying fox. Then? Brace yourself for a windy flight, the surroundings of this monster house becoming nothing but blurred colors with vague definition, sonic speed achieved faster than a snap. The fox’s furred turbines kicked it into high gear like that, an eye-watering trail utterly blazed for the exit!

     ...When he got out of here, he needed to give Eggman a thank-you... he’d take robots over this any day!

[phantom-howl]

Whats your favorite Pines

(Im talking Gravity Falls-)

.............

I stole his name lmao. It's Dipper. I like Dipper a lot as a character.

Still fully believe he should've been able to kill Dippy Fresh but that's me lol

[queenclaudiabrown]

Rooftop Remedies

Fandom: Falling Skies

Pairing: Hal Mason x Maggie/Margaret

Content warnings: canon age gap, mention of canon injuries and canon-typical death/violence, that should be it

Word count: 446

Author’s note: set between 2x5 “Love and Other Acts of Courage” and 2x6 “Homecoming”

     The hospital seemed to drain a bit out of Maggie every day, like it was killing her slowly.  Weren’t hospitals supposed to do the opposite- you know, heal people?  Make them feel better?

     She was finally healed enough to be out of that awful room, thank God, but as she wasn’t healed enough to go on patrols yet she was still confined to the building, and the rest of the hospital was only a little less suffocating.  It was too cold to open windows, even for fresh air, so Maggie found herself hanging out by the doors, clinging to the occasional gust of fresh air when they opened and the sight of the outdoors.

     On this particular evening,

     “I thought I’d find you here.”  Hal’s voice came.  Maggie turned in her swivel chair to see him striding down the hallway.  “Don’t suppose any Skitters have checked in with bullet wounds?”

     Maggie smirked.  “Afraid not.  I’d’ve prescribed them with death if they had.”

     “That’s my girl.”  He replied.  “C’mon, there’s something I want to show you.  Up for a walk?”

     Maggie shrugged.  “Sure.”

     She stood, taking his proffered hand.  He hooked his arm through hers and walked her to the stairwell door, where he opened the door for her.  “Such a gentleman.”  She joked, heading up.

     Upon reaching the roof, he opened the door for her again.  What she saw wasn’t what she had expected.  There was an air mattress with a handful of blankets- not hospital sheets, real blankets- piled on it, two pillows, a backpack, and a half-dozen lanterns scattered around the area.

     “Hal, what’s this?”  She asked.

     “Well, I heard you telling Lourdes that you wished you could go outside and be in the fresh air, and it occurred to me I can’t take you to dinner properly… so I came up with a compromise for both.  C’mon, sit down.”

     She eased herself down on the mattress, leaning back but keeping herself propped up with her arms.  Hal sat down next to her and opened the backpack, producing two hospital cafeteria trays, two bottles of water, and several miscellaneous food items.  He let her pick first and took the rest, and they dug in.

     “In about half an hour, we’ll be able to see the stars.”  He told her.  “I found both Dippers and Gemini last time I looked.”

      “My favorite is Leo, I think.”  She mused.  “Wonder if we’ll find him.”

      “Leo?  That your sign?”

      Maggie shook her head.  “I just thought it was cool.”

     “Well, I have no idea what he looks like, so you’ll have to point him out to me so I can decide if I agree.”

     She smiled.  “Deal.”

[earth-opal2]

Just a reminder that this dude can break your neck if he wants to

[letsgetgordangerous]

Nobody:  Kon-El arriving on the scene during Reign of the Supermen: