Tw: Bill is mentioned. (I don't know if that will trigger anyone, but just in case...?)
This is an AU where Dipper takes Ford's apprenticeship offer, Stan moves out and begins working at Pines Pawns, Weirdmageddon never happened, and Mabel is living with Stan at Pines Pawns.
Gravity Falls, Oregon
May 3, 2018
11:08 a.m
The Shack still looked the same.
It was still a wooden, old, broken down shack in the middle of the woods in the small town of Gravity Falls. It still had the strange face-shaped rock propped up in front, and the signs declaring Mystery Shack just ahead! (No refunds) for miles down the road, even if we planned on taking them out soon. The Mystery Shack sign had been taken down, and it lay in the front yard, abandoned yet still glittery. The S was even still crooked. The trees surrounding the Shack swayed in the morning breeze, and a few were still weighed down with confetti, streamers, and banners from our goodbye party. Obviously, no one had taken the time to clean up recently. It was a junkyard, as always.
I walked off the bus and began making my way towards the front of the Shack.
The front door creaked on its hinges as I stepped over the threshold and took it all in. There was that old 80's television, the remote propped up on the sofa across from it. The sofa was worn down and dusty, its cover scratched and chewed in places from Waddles. It didn't have any stuffing left inside it, so the cushions were flat and wrinkled with age. The old dinosaur fossil head was still there next to the sofa. It even still had remnants of food on it, and an empty Diet Pitt Cola can laying on its side on top of it. Then, further back, was the dining room table, our favorite card game splayed out and the lights flickering above it. To my left was the kitchen, where Stan would flip Stancakes and Ford fixed the lightbulb. I flicked the switch, and the purple-blue bulb lit up, casting its skin softening glow unto my body and emitting its thousand-year-span light.
I then walked up to our attic bedroom. Mabel's empty bed was on the right, the yellow flower symbol etched upon its wooden headboard and her glittery posters crumbled up in little balls all around it. On my side of the room were a few fountain (thinking) pens, chewed on and thrown randomly into the trash can at the foot of my bed. My Who's The Author? board peeked out from under my little bed, along with a sack of books and old papers.
It brought back many old memories. Some good, some not so good. Waves of emotion washed over me, almost making me gasp aloud in surprise.
That dent in the corner, that's when Mabel had launched the grappling hook at the lamp...
That glittery spot of the ceiling was made the night Mabel had her sleepover, I can still remember the feeling of Mabel's body when we swapped minds the next day, gross...
And over there was the closet, slightly cracked open and the invisible wizard's boots peeked through...
The overlarge chess piece was still crammed in the corner...man, I had been vain, now I realize just how little size should mean to me...
The last thing I noticed was the triangular, stained-glass window, still creepy and Bill-shaped. That brought up the worst memories. Bill, my enemy, a man I've despised since the beginning, who possessed my body just to keep me from winning. The crazed, chaos-ridden, weird, singular-eyed dream demon who wrecked people's souls and permanently damaged anything he came in contact with. He could be the most charming of beings one moment- just to turn around and wreck it all the next. The deals he made were the worst, most twisted things I'd ever witnessed. He could always spin some tale to make you believe he was the victim. Every deal he ever made always ended up in his favor, no matter what it was. I wouldn't be surprised if Bill and Stan became friends, they were both silver-tongued, cruel, and con-men.
Actually, on second thought, maybe I would be surprised. Bill was our enemy, and Stan becoming friends with him? Not a chance.
Finally, I pushed away and ignored the onslaught of heavy thinking my brain threatened to wash me over with and instead began the hard task of renovating.
The first thing to go: Stan's dirty laundry.
He hadn't even washed it before he had left. Yikes.
This was going to take a while.
Glass Shard Beach, New Jersey
May 3, 2018
11:15 a.m
"Guess who's Mabel?! I AM! Care to learn more?! I bet you do, you like to learn- OW!"
I was sitting on the counter-top of Pines Pawns, waving at innocent bystanders and customers alike, and enthusiastically crowning anyone who got within arm's reach of me with a golden trophy sticker from my scrapbook sticker collection.
Pines Pawns sucked. It was barren, cold, dry, and old. It reminded me of the Mystery Shack, and that SHOULDN'T BE HAPPENING.
So I glittered it up.
Instead of a boring window sign that flashed in bright red letters OPEN, I replaced it with a bright, neon sign that was twice the size, kept constantly, randomly, changing colors, and blared out PINES PAWNS COME ON IN BEST SHOP EVER at unsuspecting passerby. I laughed each and every time someone fell over in the streets by accident from looking at it.
And now, replacing the metal, flabby, so very ultra-boring regular cash-register, there sat on the check-out table a nifty, glittery pink laptop that Stan used to ring people up. This also made people fall over. (Not from surprise though, it was from the exorbitant price of the items they were buying). This was where Stan could work his conman-y magic. I also stuffed the drawers of the desk with bags of Toffee Peanuts for him to munch on.
There used to be a normal sitting room/lounge towards the back of Pines Pawns. Not anymore. That, too, was renovated and spiced up. I quickly whisked the shabby, gross, old-people-y couches away to GoodWill, then spruced up the room with red and gold leather sofas and a new flat-screen t.v. Stan enjoyed this. He had all his favorite, old-timey shows, plus the newer ones on extra channels. (I have no idea how they make new old shows, but they do, so.)
Now you might be wondering right about now how the hecky-poo I got all this switcharooey newey stuffs. Well, I'll tell you.
STAN WENT TO SCHOOL.
I didn't believe it at first. I think your reaction might be similar to mine, so I won't elaborate on just what I did when he told me this. Let's just say that his ears are still ringing, and there are now local wolves nearby who are very confused.
I was shocked. Stan Pines, master con-artist, super duper Grunkle, and master lock-picker, going to school?!
I asked him why. He responded gruffly that he didn't exactly know and left it at that. Every time I asked him, again and again, he avoided the question.
My theory: we needed the money. Either that, or we were poor. Or maybe he just wanted me to buy new sparkly stuffs with his income to spice up his shop.
The last one. I think the last one is the most accurate.
Anyway, I had been talking to a new customer with wavy, golden-blonde hair and shockingly bright blue eyes, by the name of Gabs, (He was pretty cute, I had given him my tester paper that said Do You Like Me? and he responded absolutely! I had squealed.) but then had unceremoniously fallen off the counter and bruised my knee while trying to slap my trophy sticker on his forehead.
Well, so much for that romance. Gabs had walked away and left me after I had screeched "I'M OKAY!" and attracted the attention of everyone in the room.
I got the feeling he wasn't one for public attention.
Grunkle Stan walked in just then. "Jeez Louise, kid, I think they heard you all the way in Russia. You alright?" He smelled like cologne, stinky clothes, and Diet Pitt Cola.
"Grunkle Staaan!" I shrieked. Then I grasped his wide, calloused and bruised hand, and pulled him up the rickety and creaky wooden stairs to the bathroom.
"Kid, where're we goin'? What the- hey, let goa me! Stop it, I don't need a...oh no, oh no no nonono!" He started panicking when it became clear where we were headed. I slammed and locked the bathroom door behind us, then started up a warm bath.
"Grunkle Stan, you need to clean up. And you know the only thing that can help you?" I began to soap up the water in the tub.
"Praying that you will be merciful and let me outta here?" He started breathing heavy and backed away, cowering against the door frame.
"Um, no. It's The Power of Mabel! Copyright Mabel."
He sighed. "Kid, nothing you ever do will ever fix this hairy old beast."
"Well, we'll just have to see about that..."
Gravity Falls, Oregon
May 3, 2018
12:47 p.m
I stopped cleaning after I had finished emptying the attic and sat down for a lunch break. The day was sunny and clear out, so I decided to sit outside on the porch and eat my PB&J sandwich. That's when Ford arrived in McGucket's pick-up truck, along with the man himself.
"Hot doodly-banjo strings! This place looks worse than my funeral!" McGucket jimmied his way out of the truck and began unloading his various science instruments and furniture out of a storage unit that was hooked up to the back of the truck.
"McGucket, you never had a funeral. You're still alive." I chuckled.
"Well, if I did die, it woul' look a bit like this, jus' not so wooden-like!" His southern, hillbilly accent echoed as he clambered out of the storage unit carrying a sack of science lab equipment and tools.
Ford had gotten out of the truck, too, and quickly hugged me, then pulled away. I think he was embarrassed for hugging me. (Was he blushing ever so slightly?)
"Hey kid, how's it going out here? Sorry, we couldn't get here sooner, Fiddleford here wanted to bring some equipment back to help set the place back up."
He grinned at me, his hands hidden behind his back, and his glasses lopsided and cracked in the corner. They shone with the light of the afternoon sun, and his fluffy salt-and-pepper hairdo swayed in the slight breeze. He looked very owlish at that moment.
I grinned back. "That's alright, Great Uncle Ford. While you were gone, I started emptying the Shack out. The attic's clear if you want to start there."
"Brilliant, my boy! Here, help me- ugh- with this..." Ford groaned as he feebly tried to lift a heavy wooden desk out of the bed of the pick-up truck. He was visibly struggling- and sweating.
"No! Here, let me do that..."
So we got to work.
Glass Shard Beach, New Jersey
May 3, 2018
1:00 p.m
"And... Vee-ola!" I spun Grunkle Stan around in his chair to face the mirror.
He was silent for a moment, probably gasping in awe at his glorious hairdo that I had just floofed up for him.
Then he grunted. "Um, what exactly am I supposed to be lookin' at here?"
I sighed and tugged on one of his many fabuloso curlies I had curled around his head. "Grunkle Staaan! It's your hair! I did it up for you! I also shampooed it, cut it, and made you smell nice. Now you don't smell so old-man-y and you look decent enough to not scare customers away every time you open the door!"
He nervously touched his sparkly hair. "Okay...I still don't understand the need for so many sparkles. It's burning my retinas."
"Shush your mouth! Grunkle Stan, it's sparkly hair-spray! It's what every person needs to look their very best, says so here on the bottle!" I tapped the bottom of the bottle, where it was written in bold letters underneath the brand name, WHAT EV-HAIRY PERSON NEEDS TO LOOK TH-HAIR VE-HAIRY BEST!
"That explains the clouds of smoke that rise up every time I move. Kid, I think you used so much you burned a hole through the ozone layer."
I looked up, expected to see a giant gaping hole of ozone, but instead was greeted by the usual old wooden ceiling.
"I don't see no hole."
"Figuratively, not literally, sweetie." He sighed. I always took things literally. Something I knew I shouldn't do, but did out of habit.
"Oh." Silence. Then,
"Also, that was a double-negative."
I turned to look at him, utterly befuddled. "Excuse me?"
"Meaning you contradicted yourself. 'Ain't no' means you do, basically."
"Woah, look who's Mr. Smart-Guy all of a sudden!"
"I can still con the heck out of you in 20 different ways."
"Oh, yea?" A quirked eyebrow, a playful shove, "I'd like to see that."
"You're on!"
Gravity Falls, Oregon
May 4, 2018
3:45 a.m
I was awoken in the middle of the night by a large thump, coming from directly below my bedroom. I jerked upright in my bed, having been interrupted in the middle of a very sweet dream in which Wendy had asked me to marry her. Groaning, I rubbed my head, which had hit the wooden ceiling in my haste, and staggered out of my perfectly warm blankets. I jammed my black-framed glasses up the bridge of my nose and read the clock by my bedside. It shone out in bright, neon green letters: 3:45 a.m. Who would be up at this time of night?
I stumbled down the stairs, still clad in my stars-and-moons pajamas, and flicked the kitchen light on and peered around. There was no one there. So where had that noise come from?
Thump. There it was again, coming from below and slightly behind me. I knew where it was: the basement. And there was only one person who ever really went down there anymore.
Ford.
I traipsed across the room and entered the Gift Shop, the Employees Only sign swinging and squeaking on the door behind me. When I arrived at the machine, I typed in the code and headed down there in the elevator.
First level...second level...third level appeared before me, and I hopped out and rushed into the room.
"Ford?"
He was standing over by the glass window, looking into the room with the broken and damaged portal. His gaze was blank, his eyes non-seeing. His mouth was drooping and partially open, his fluffy hair standing on end. It was silent, the only sound coming from the dozens of controls lining the walls, the endless droning of electricity almost lulling me to sleep. I touched his shoulder hesitantly and said his name again.
"Great-Uncle Ford?"
He ignored me, still gazing. I was getting seriously creeped out now. Why was he standing here, alone, in the middle of the night? I rubbed his fluffy hair and pushed his glasses, which had been falling off his face, back onto his nose. Then he spoke, surprising me and breaking the endless silence.
"Bill." His gaze turned to me, still blank.
"What?" I asked.
He nodded, not seeming to hear me.
"Yes, he's here."
"Who-"
"No. Nevermind" He suddenly snapped out of his trance, seeing me standing there for the first time, and gasped in shock. "Dipper?"
I nodded and patted his hand half-reassuringly. "Yes... Great-Uncle Ford, are you alright? What were you talking about? Were you with Bill again?"
"Oh gosh, I didn't mean to say that!" He mumbled to himself, haphazardly picking up random items around the room and tossing them every which way. Finally, after watching him do this several more times than I thought was humane to do, I grabbed him firmly by the shoulders, making him gasp in surprise and look me in the eye.
"Great-Uncle Ford, stop! You're making yourself go insane!" I yelled at him, then demanded he sit down and talk to me. He needed to vent and get it all out.
So he walked over and slumped into his chair by his desk, looking like a sad, tormented owl.
"I had been dreaming...then I-I suppose I sleep-walked, I have no idea how I ended up down here...but I had seen him again, and he had asked me for something, I don't remember, but I refused, and I woke up down here with you..." He trailed off, his face one of shock and horror.
"I still get memories of Weirdmageddon,...the tragedy...the horror...the endless, meaningless slaughter..."
I approached him again, taking his hand in mine. I didn't know what else to do. I mean, sure, Mabel got this way sometimes, she needed therapy and continual reassurance, but this was different. This was Ford, strong-willed, always fighting, a survivor. He wasn't supposed to- he shouldn't- he was reminiscing about Bill and this wasn't supposed to happen to him!
"Yes, we all get those sometimes. It's okay, Great-Uncle Ford, you're safe now." I told him, although not entirely believing it myself.
"But what if we're not? What if he's still out there...hiding, waiting, in pursuit of us?" He turned away from me and put his head in his hands. I reached over to turn him around but thought better of it. What he really needed right now, rather than the truth, was reassurance.
"Great-Uncle Ford, it's alright, it really is. I'm here, Fidds is here, we'll be okay. We defeated him."
"Weirdmageddon...it was all my fault...all of it..." Oh no. Here we go again. Always with the self-deprecation and angst- when would it stop? When would Ford realize it really wasn't his fault? This depression was getting out of hand, honestly.
"We can't avoid the inevitable. It was bound to happen. It was a chain of events, not a singular person or instance."
"But what if it wasn't? What if it could've been avoided?"
"Great-Uncle Ford...no..."
But he slumped in his chair, weightless, mindless, and I knew I had lost him again. He always got this way, ever since that time. The guilt of the Armageddon caused by his muse caused him great pain, and he had to go to therapy every week. All because of Bill. But I didn't dare travel down that path of oblivion again.
I knew his unresponsiveness was my signal to leave, so I rose and walked slowly back towards the door.
I looked back at him. His fluffy head of hair was flat, and he was resting face down on his desk in defeat. His chest rose slowly up and down, and soon a soft snore emanated from him, filling the room with the sound of purring. I sighed in content. At least in his dreams, he could be worry-free.
I, on the other hand, had work to do. I needed to figure out why Bill was haunting Ford again. This shouldn't be happening.
I got to work.
Gravity Falls, Oregon
May 4, 2018
3:45 a.m
Grunkle Stan and I sat in the living room, playing video games. He sat on a vintage leather sofa that had long since lost its signature gleam, and I on a faux zebra rug on the wooden floor. Grunkle Stan was playing the character of Rumble McSkirmish, who looked vaguely familiar to me but which I hadn't voiced aloud. My character was the allusive Dr. Karate, who was apparently Rumble's mortal enemy, whatever the heck that meant. I guess because he had killed Rumble's father or something? Sometimes, those cut scenes didn't make much sense to me. I had just randomly pulled out a video game with no regard for what it was. Just some game of Dipper's, probably.
Grunkle Stan, bless his little heart, was trying the best he could with his wrinkly old man fingers, but alas I got the best of him.
"Boo-ya!" I shouted with glee as Rumble was taken down by Dr. Karate yet again. "Mabel for the win!"
"Yea, yea, ya got me kiddo. Now off ta bed with ya, we got a busy day tomorrow and I can't have ya falling all over the place from lack of sleep." He pulled me off the couch and shoved me towards the stairs.
I obeyed, albeit noisily and reluctantly, but when I turned to say goodnight to Stan, something had come over him. He stood stock-still, his eyes blank and staring off into the distance. I tried calling his name a few times but to no avail.
Looking closer, I realized he was mumbling something under his breath, over and over again, the same words. The words I never ever wanted to hear again.
"Bill Cipher."
Terrified now, I shook him.
"Stan! Grunkle Stan! Snap out of it!" I shouted at him.
He kept talking, however, looking at me but not really seeing me.
"Yes, she's here." His voice became panicked. "What do you want with her?"
"Who-" I began nervously, but Stan straightened up.
"No. Never."
He was really making no sense! And so, using the age-old method for a critically on-the-edge-of-being-insane person, I slapped his cheek. He jumped at once, snapping out of his trance, the words gradually fading together until his eyes refocused and he saw me. Seeing me standing there for the first time, he gasped in shock. "Mabel?"
I nodded and patted his hand half-reassuringly. "Yes... Grunkle Stan, are you alright? What were you talking about? Were you with Bill again?"
"Yea- no! No, that's nothin' for you to worry about." His voice was strict, harsh. "You should be in bed."
"Yes, Grunkle Stan."
His voice softened when he heard my worried voice. "Don't ya worry 'bout me, kiddo. I'm alright. Just get to bed. I love you."
"I love you too."
But I still wasn't reassured, and I wasn't planning on going to bed just yet either. I needed to figure out why Bill was haunting Stan again.
This shouldn't be happening.
As soon as I got to my room, I dialed Dipper's number.
Three rings later, he answered. "Yes?" He sounded tired, but just as worried as I was. Vaguely wondering if the same thing happened to Ford, I didn't bother beating around the bush.
"Stan's just had a little chat with Bill."
"So has Ford." He sounded slightly surprised, but almost as though he was expecting this and hoping he wasn't right.
"We need to talk."
AN: I don't actually think this will continue, but maybe if enough people inspire me? Idk. Gimme some ideas people, I'm stuck. (And if I do decide to continue, it probably won't be for a while because I probably won't be able to get it out before school starts :/)
Anyway, just a little fic that randomly came to me in the dead of night. It's not finished, I don't think, so I may change some stuff every now and then when I feel like adding some more detail.
Thank you to anyone who reviews and leaves a comment! I always appreciate support and love from other fanfictioners like myself. ;)
Please review, like, or follow if you enjoyed this! Please let me know if there's any errors I should fix or anything I shoudl change. Thank you!
-Fantasy