Gravity Falls: The Mystery Shack
In the living room of the old and worn shack, walls adorn either by rough stone or crumbling purple plaid wallpaper, Dipper Pines was beginning to stir from the deep slumber that usually followed the full moon, a night of romping through the forest leaving him exhausted.
He lays face down on the khaki colored carpet, body as stiff as a plank, Dipper right index finger first twitches, then his whole body moves, joints unlocking, and muscles coming back alive. Sputtering and spitting as he realizes his mouth is full of the filthy carpet, he rests the right side of his face on the floor, gaze facing left. Blinking a few times, processing the yellow recliner Stan usually sat in, and the false shrunken heads, dusty and shriveled, resting on top of the aquarium that still housed Mabel's lobster, Dipper realized he was lying on the floor in the living room.
The moment he made that connection, memories of last night's full moon came surging through his mind like a river washing over a mound of stones. They weren't the same as human memories, with more emphasis on smell and action, and he couldn't always make sense of everything that happened the night before; however, he remembered the long runs, the inability to find food that night, and another werewolf guiding him home. He thought his tail was wagging, until with a pang of frustration he remembered that he didn't have a tail at the moment.
Grunting, Dipper got up, flecks of dirt clinging to his red shirt, hair messy and tangled from a night of running wild. He rubbed his eyes which had grown slightly puffy sleeping where he had, taking his first step forward, his balance wobbling as he's not sure he's doing it right. That always happened after an entire night as The Wolf, and it took him a minute or two to get back into the rhythm of walking upright.
Walking straight forward from where he lay, he entered the staircase hall, taking a left and walking up the mildly dilapidated stairs. He reached the upper floor, heading down the hall he heard a slight gurgling sound on his right, and stopping at the bathroom, he peaks inside to find Mabel spitting out the water she had been gargling.
Mabel stood before the mirror, and running her toothbrush under the faucet she was very glad she still had a reflection, unlike some vampires. Putting her toothbrush away, she put on a big smile before the mirror, showing she big white teeth, fangs still wet, a slight glint to them in the bathroom's low light. They were long and menacing, the sharp points perfect for making near surgical puncture wounds in the chosen victim. Slowly her smile faded, the fangs a grim reminder that she had to drink the blood of others to survive. When they first came in, they had popped her braces right off, which only served as a further reminder of what she was. They actually had plans to see a dentist about her braces soon, just to get her teeth looked at. Her gaze fell from her reflection, drifting downward to the floor and the filth, heart sinking a little.
"Hey, Mabel." Dipper said, standing in the doorway.
"Dipper!" Mabel said excitedly, perking up and jerking her head around.
"How was-Whoa!" Mabel rushed him, throwing her arms around her brother and hugging him tight, the force of her vampiric speed knocking his back slightly, causing a little stumble that he caught himself from. Dipper laughed a little, hugging back.
Mabel withdrew, planting her hands firmly on Dipper's body shoulders and holding him at arm's length. "You were a very naughty doggy last night, running away like that. Shame on you!" She lightly bopped his nose. "Bad dog!"
"Mabel!" He exclaimed, swatting her hand aside, slightly annoyed.
"Ah, lighten up, Brobro. You know I'm just joshing your hambones."
"Wait. What?"
"But seriously, Stan was up until like, two, while I looked for you. So… bad dog!" She said, bopping his nose again.
Dipper gave her a half-hearted glare. "Well then next time don't lock me up. Or at least lock me up and don't fall for the puppy eyes."
"Hey!" Mabel jammed a pale finger at Dipper's chest. "You were adorable and you know it!"
"How many times do I have to say it? I am not adorable, I am-"
"PLBRTPLBRTPLBRT!" Dipper was cut off as Mabel blew a loud, sloppy raspberry, spraying his cheek with a disgusting mist of spittle. She stepped around her brother, exiting the bathroom. "But seriously, have fun last night?"
Dipper stepped out with her. "Yes, actually. I met another werewolf in the woods, and he was like, super nice. Let me eat a rabbit he caught."
"Awww, did the Dipper-puppy make a new friend?" Mabel said in mock baby talk.
"Okay, Mabel, that is seriously getting old."
Mabel laughed a little. "Hehe, okay, okay. Geese, Dipper! Would you say I'm making you a MAD DOG?!" She burst into a fit laughter.
Dipper stood this, fists clenched and arms pointed straight down at his sides. "Okay… That one was a little funny. Satisfied?"
"Oh Dipper…," Mabel placed her arm around her twin brother, "I'm never going to get tired of this." She giggled some more.
"I'm sure." Dipper said, slightly exasperated as he lifted Mabel's hand from around his shoulder and let it drop.
Mabel booped his nose, which Dipper swatted aside. "So who was super nice werewolf you met last night? Someone we know?"
Dipper thought it over. "I don't… well, maybe." He scratched at his chin. "I mean, we could. Normally I can smell it, and he didn't seem familiar. Though I could have always misplaced it, or in his human form he could be masking his scent with something."
"What?" Mabel inquired. "How does that work?"
Dipper tried finding an appropriate and understandable example. "...Like how Robbie smells of aftershave and anger. That's not necessarily how HE smells, which is still terrible, but he covers himself so thoroughly in other smells that I can't differentiate the layers to the scent. Someone like that could be the werewolf, and there'd be an off chance that other werewolves couldn't smell him. Get it?"
"Nope!" Mabel smiled, only half truthful. She did get the gist of it, but she wanted to make sure she had everything so she didn't look dumb later. She hated seeming dumb compared to Dipper.
"Well…" Dipper tapped his index finger to his lips, line of sight drifting up to the ceiling. Getting it to simpler terms, he looked back down to Mabel. "He could stink so bad I can't smell anything else. Make sense?"
"Oh, totally."
"Good," Dipper said, piecing together what he remembered from last night, feeling the need to elaborate , he added,"Though this isn't a guarantee. We could genuinely have never met the guy, and the wolf did smell clean enough. So… it's a toss up."
"In that case," Mabel's eyes narrowed, and she got a mischievous smile, "Want to go werewolf hunting?"
"...Yes. Mystery Twins style?" Dipper asked, raising his clenched fist, knuckled facing Mabel.
"MYSTERY TWINS STYLE!"
They knocked their fists together in an incredibly epic moment representing their unity as twins.
Later
Dipper had compiled a new list of potential lycanthropes, putting together a new conspiracy board, with little red strings connecting potential traits with potential suspects around the town. "He was obviously an adult male, very young and healthy. Probably an athletic build, at least six feet, most likely with brown hair."
Before him a number of names were listed with pictures to them. The traits that made them potential suspects noted. They had the Hank, an unnamed man who was fond of a red cap, Reginald, and surprisingly, Nate, all as highly chance suspects, placed at the top above the others. Under them were the less likely individuals, such as McGuckin's son, an unnamed teen wearing a hat near identical to Dipper's, Emmet, D'Shawn, Jimmy, Jean-Luc, Mikey R., Gary, Sergei, Steve, and a hipster that stuck around after Woodstick. Finally, underneath them were names that had came up that were just too ridiculous to even consider, having been crossed out in bright red. Those names included Pizza guy, some freak named Alex Hirsch, and deputy Durland.
If it wasn't anyone in the first row, they were going to have a lot of trouble searching for everyone else.
Mabel pet Waddles as she looked at the board, the little pig enjoying the physical contact and its ultimate meaning, closing his eyes in bliss as he pushed his head against Mabel's palm. "We put that together quick."
"Yeah," Dipper said, writing down all the information they had about these people, "We must be getting good."
"Or you have next to no social life and spend all your time stalking people to gather information and give yourself an unrealistic sense of control and importance."
"Yes." Dipper said, turning a page in the notepad and continuing to write without looking up.
Mabel shifted her position, holding Waddles above her at arms length while she laid on her bed, turning her head to the left to look at her brother, deep brown eyes narrowing in mock-contempt. Sometimes the best way to irritate a sibling was not to fight them, as Dipper demonstrated by avoiding her trap.
Dipper placed the pen down, looking from the board to his notes one more time, then nodding as he adjusted his hat. "Let's hunt some wolves."
Mabel placed Waddles down. "Dipper, don't even try puns. That's my thing, and you just failed at it."
"Ah come on, it's appropriate for the-"
"FAILED!"
They left the room, going downstairs as Stan emerged from vigorously scratching himself in places that shouldn't be mentioned. Eyes thick and crusty with yellow rheum that collected in the deep bags that gathered under his eyes from a night of restless sleep, his expression placid and slightly unfocused, mind half in the ether, he reflected that unsound sleep of the night before. His white tank top and vertically striped boxers filthy with sweat, and reeking of what may have been other fluids.
"Hi, Stan," Mabel waved, "We're going to look for a werewolf Dipper met last night."
Stan blinked a few times. "...That seems like a reasonable and safe thing to do that a semi-responsible caretaker would allow, but I haven't been getting much sleep the last week, so I could be wrong. Fifty-fifty."
Dipper patted Stan's back as they walked by, whipping the hand he used on his shirt as they were down the hall and to the door. Mabel making sure to grab a large black umbrella, the perfect means of keeping the sun off.
Later: Downtown
They stopped at the end of the street, getting a clear view of the park where the family had been having a picnic, Mabel remaining under the shadow of her umbrella while she kept an eye on their first suspect from a distance with her opera glasses. "And you made fun of me for always carrying these things." She said with a smug little smile.
Dipper rolled his eyes as he worked out a plan to get close enough to a man named Hank for him to get a good smell in and see if he was the werewolf or not. "Yeah yeah... Lets just focus on getting close enough for me to tell if he's the guy we're looking for."
Mabel's eyes narrowed in concentration as she tapped her chin. "... So here's what I'm thinking: we find and mug a delivery man to get his uniform. You take refuge in one of his boxes, while I, now dressed in the uniform, deliver said box to them claiming its for the man. That's when you burst out, gasping for air and claiming to have been shipped from Abu Dhabi, where you had lived the first five years of your life as an exotic child dancer for a low ranking-"
"Mabel." Dipper snapped his fingers in front of Mabel's face, breaking her out of the trace she had been held in while explaining her plot. He pointed to where the family had been sitting, a thick wooden picnic table standing in a patch of emerald green grass, the relentless rays of the summer sun blocked out by an adult maple tree, large green leaves casting shade over the family, swaying lightly in a gentle breeze that rolled over the town, providing them with an extra reprieve from the heat. Hank, a large barrel chested man with a stubby brown mustache and slightly oversized nose, rose from the table. The father of awkward round boy, and uncle of two really weird kids named Shmipper and Smabbel, he left his wife and children as he got up from the picnic table and walked to the bathroom.
"We could do that, or we could just wait outside of the bathroom for him to come out and not assign some horribly degrading backstory to me." Dipper said, patting Mabel's back.
"Oh..." Mabel trailed off, her buzz dying a little. "Yeah, that could work too, I guess."
They went and stationed themselves in front of the public restrooms, the sound of running water and whistling coming from inside the occupied quarters as Hank whistled while he thoroughly washed his hands.
The flowing water soon stopped, and there was a click as the door unlocked, Hank opening the door as he stopped whistling, paper towel still working over his hands as he got them nice and dry. The second the door, the metaphorical dam holding back the bulk of the smells, was opened, the sea of scents inside spilling over the twins, carried out by the difference in air pressure within the cubed room. Dipper immediately inhaled through his nose in a series of short, quick sniffs the moment those scents washed over him. It was surprisingly clean smelling in there, the pungent and pervasive order he'd expect to assault his nasal cavities, with a light pine air-freshener added to mask whatever foul stenches may arise within. It made the man's own scent much easier to discern, and after a few seconds of Hank looking in confusion between the kids that stood before him, Dipper shook his head and started walking off.
Mabel glanced at the large, confused man, and the moment he opened his mouth ran off to catch up with Dipper, umbrella bobbing above. "Not him?"
"Nope." Dipper said, hands in his pockets and eyes forward. He pulled out the notepad and crossing Hank's name off.
"You sure?"
Dipper grabbed ahold of his nose as he walked off, gently tugging it a little. "Yeah. Glad he was clean. The smell went right up my nose."
"Haha… yeah, not like it would be hilarious to watch my werewolf brother freak out when he got a snort of Stan-musk up his right nostril."
Dipper glared at his sister, saying with a slight growl, "Don't even joke about "Stan-musk!"'
Through Mabel's hysterical laughter and Dipper's righteous outrage, neither of them noticed that pass the fence surrounding the park, across the street and to the right of the Gravity Falls museum, a young man watched the kids, his skin tanned from long periods outdoors and dark brown hair carrying hints of auburn for the same reason. He grinned a little, a small laughter in his throat. Watching siblings tease each other like that was thoroughly adorable. When the twins left the park, heading back the way they came, the young man, just out of his teens, followed, light blue jeans, torn and grubby, hung at his waist, the dark green brown of his loose v-neck dampening his presence, the soft color not flashing in the vision of onlookers. He kept back, minding his distance and staying on the other end of the street, his footsteps making no noise save for the slightest of clicks as his black sandals met the concrete, stride soft, and experienced in the ways of moving unnoticed, the result of years prowling through the wilds.
He would remain far back, walking calmly and unfocused, hands in his pockets, turning down a different road, then circling around to get another view of them. The "Dipper" boy in particular.
Gravity Falls: Southeast
The next person was easy enough to find. Reginald, a dark skinned man with a little out of style soul patch, walked down the street with his girlfriend in arm. The woman he wrapped his arm around was seemingly entranced by the shiny new ring on her finger, both distracted and walking cheerily together. It was easy for the twins to get close, walking parallel to the sidewalk that the couple strode over, only going the opposite direction, they went right past them, letting Dipper get the smell.
The boy sniffed a few times, processing all that information. "...I don't think so."
"Positive?"
Dipper shook his head. "No, they have each other's scent all over them."
"Awww." Mabel said, bringing her free hand to her cheek, semi-squealing at the cuteness.
Dipper lightly rubbed his neck. "Kind of gross, actually."
Dipper you spoil-sport.
Mabel watch the path the couple followed, and saw the shade of a walnut tree up ahead. "Idea! Come up behind them, Dipper." Mabel ran up ahead, leaving Dipper blinking two or three times in confusion before running after Mabel.
The young couple continued on their stroll at a their brisk, but unrushed, pace, the day's peaceful rhythm prompting no need to hurry as the soft melody of the summer breeze met their ears. Once they neared the shaded spot they slowed when they saw the little girl carrying an umbrella in the summer sun jog ahead of them.
Mabel bound past them, stopping in the heart of the walnut's shadow and spinning around on her heel, arms spread wide in greeting, left hand holding the umbrella far to her side, its length tilted out at a mild angle. "Greetings, ladies and gentlemen, my name is MABEL!" She said with a shout, lowering her left hand, then jerking it up with a start, hopping a few inches off the ground as she threw her umbrella into the air. As parasol hung several feet above their heads, air catching in its folds and holding it aloft, Mabel dropped onto the light grey sidewalk, stone having grown cool in the sanctuary of the shade, her hands connecting against the rough flat surface, slowing her falls and balancing her out as she pushed off and began break-dancing, which, as anyone who had seen her at the last Mystery Shack party could tell you, she had mad skills in.
She sprang back up, right as her umbrella descended back down, the brolly moving through the air slowly as if it was sinking through a viscous substance. Mabel snatched up her parasol as it came down, doning it over her shoulder, "Tah dah!" she said, taking a large bow before the couple.
The couple let out ooos, ahhs, and hushed exclamations of wonder, applauding as they laughed. Reaching into their pockets they took out loose change and bills, throwing it to Mabel, most of which landing around her feet. While they were occupied with Mabel, a sudden street show on the sidewalk making any day out more pleasant, Dipper came up behind them. Leaning forward, face inches away from the man, he got a good sniff of Reginald. Taking a step back as he processed the layers of smell, he sorted the scents of the man and the woman, separating them and finding the core elements of the man's smell. Taking a few more steps back, his head tilted upward, looking at the clear azure sky, he was convinced that this man wasn't the werewolf they were looking for.
Mabel skipped up to Dipper as the couple continued on their stroll, counting the money she had made, the man and woman leaving them behind as they disappeared around the corner of the street and into the muggy afternoon day. "You know," Mabel said, carefully adding up the pennies and the dimes to the dollars, "We need to do that more often. It could help pay for my sugar habit... if I can still digest raw sugar, that is." She pocketed the money, feeling very content and approving with the course today's events, she asked with a slight smile, skin unearthly pale under the shade of her umbrella, "Was it him?"
Dipper shook his head, looking down at the grey sidewalk, summer heat radiating off it. "No, not that dude. Though I think he could use more citrus in his diet." He rubbed his chin, eyes narrowing in contemplation. "Hmmm... not sure how I can come to that conclusion from how he smelled…"
He would shrug off that thought, the question slipping away as they went down the sidewalk. The next person would prove harder to find. They didn't even have a name on him, they only knew that he seemed to carry large glass panels around a lot as an occupation. This actually made it seem more likely that he was the werewolf in question, as it wasn't uncommon for those with conditions like this to keep a low profile, some even go on to live like animals: the result of either fear, guilt, a strange savage thrill, or some combination of three.
Because so little information about this man was at their disposal, they had no literally no idea where to start looking. It wasn't like there was a store in town with a big sign that said "Gravity Falls glass panel delivery;" however, if they had done a ten second internet search with those exact words, they would have been taken to a website where you could order glass panels and have them delivered within Gravity Falls. It even had an address where the company was based.
They didn't have internet access though, so that was a bust.
They did however get incredibly lucky, and spotted him walking on the other side of the street near a baseball field, red cap pulled back and red shirt flashing in their vision, standing out against the background field's dull brown.
Now they just had to figure out a way to get a good sniff.
There was a thwack, then a swoosh, and finally a smack as a baseball hit at home plate flew up through the air and over the field, coming down in a long broad arc, then striking the red capped man in the back of the head. He stumbled forward slightly, dazed, eyes going cross as he finally fell forward on his face.
Wow, the Twins were just having one stroke of luck after another.
"He'll be fine!" Mabel said poignantly as they scurried across the street.
Once on the other side Dipper crouched down over the man's unconscious body, and smelled him.
"Hmmm… Nope, not him." He said, standing up and scratching his right side. "Though I like the deodorant he's using."
"That's weird, bro." Mabel said, pulling the man's wallet out of his back pocket and proceeding to check the contents. "...His name's Dalton?! I thought that was banned by the Geneva Convention!?" She closed the black leather billfold, and placed it back in his pocket.
They got out of there right as the teams playing baseballs started to arrive, some of them noticing that the ball knocked a man unconscious.
Gravity Falls: Nate's House
Now for this one they at least knew where to start. Walking up to the porch, past the roughly overgrown boxwood bush wedged in the edge made where the sidewalk joined the driveway, and noting that the lawn could use a trim, Mabel enthusiastically rang the doorbell to the tacky fuchsia house while Dipper stood next to her. There was movement inside the house, the bumpbump of heavy footsteps from behind the oaken door lightly gracing Dipper and Mabel's ears.
With a click, and a creak, Nate opened the door, hair a mess, the blue cap that normally covered it missing. It looked like he had just gotten home from someplace, took off his hat and ran his hands through his dark brown locks to get rid of the hat-hair. Smiling as he looked down at the two kids, he scratched the stubble on his chin as he said, "Yo! Maemae and Dipperdude! What's sup?"
Dipper wasn't sure about the nickname "Dipperdude," but the shot of nostalgia he got right into the brain from having one of the cool older, "mature," kids give him a nickname smothered any protest he might have put up. Mabel quite like "Maemae," and had actually used that as an alias on a few other occasions. She smiled up at the older of the trio, saying, "Yo! Nate! Can you lean forward a little?"
"Sure." He did, bending forward until his head was on level with the kids' own, inches from their faces.
Dipper stood on the tips of his toes, stretching his frame and neck up as he tilted them forward ever so slightly, raising his nose, now angled just above Nate's hair, he took a few sniffs. He fell back on his heels as he got a nose full of Nate's scent, deconstructing an analyzing its makeup. "...Nope, not him, though he could use a shower." He said, waving the stench away from his face.
"Ahwell. Thanks Nate!" Mabel said, taking a step back and waving.
Nate drew himself up, waving back with a slight smile. "No problem! See you guys!"
The twins walked away, going back to the sidewalk and moving down the street. After about a minute, Dipper looked to Mabel. "Okay, I'm not the only one who thinks it's strange that Nate had absolutely no problem with me smelling him, am I?"
"I know right?!" Mabel explained, jerking her head towards Dipper. "It's weird!"
Later
"Well," Dipper said, looking over the list, "that crosses off our prime suspects, and there are a lot of runners up, so," he folded the notepad up, placing it under his arm and holding it there, pressed between his upper-arm and side, "we may have a busy day ahead of us."
"Awwww," Mabel pouted. "Do we have too check them all? I don't like being out when I'm hungry."
This was mostly true, though Mabel was almost always hungry. She hadn't been getting enough to eat with objections about biting down on cute, fuzzy forest creatures, and as a result she had been losing weight.
"Ah… okay, Mabel." Dipper's heart sank, more from knowing how much vampirism had affected Mabel than anything, and how much she'd been hurting for it. "Well… yeah, okay! Lets get you home. I can search myself, and later tonight we can find you a snack!"
Mabel smiled smally at her brothers burst of enthusiasm and resolve to see that she was okay. "Thanks, Dipper." She said, sheepishly
Dipper placed a hand on her shoulder, then rested his arm on it as she turned, walking with him.
They started to make their way back to the Shack, having spent a better part of two hours out in the town, but they stopped when they heard a "Massy! Stop!" from past the end of the street and on around a corner from another block, the sound dampened by the distance between the twins and it. Around the corner at the end of the street, a tiny white and grey mass of flowing fur came bounding towards them. More rat than dog, the little mutt's tiny legs carried it over the sidewalk at an impressive speed. Through the flopping hair around its eyes it saw the two kids not twenty feet ahead of it, and a high-pitched, piercing yap went out from it again and again and again as it charged them.
Yap-yap-yaap-yap-yap-yap-yip!
It charge right at them, screeching to a halt as it neared them, the stupid little yip and yap continuing as it looked up right at them, seemingly fixated more on Dipper than Mabel as it bounced around, its incessant yapping assaulting their ears.
The kids took a few steps back, the little rat-dog jumping forward, Dipper's hand going up, palms facing out and exposed in a defensive manner, "Whoa there! What… w-" Dipper's voice stopped, form going ridged. His right eyelid hung down, halfway closed as he was dead silent, mouth opening, his lips peeling back to reveal his teeth as his jaw was stretched out like he was about to sneeze. His fingers curled in, clenching hard against his palm then unwinding out, and finally his jaw snapped back down with a firm clunk as he bit air.
"Oh no." Mabel said, a note of dread tugging in her chest. She had learned to recognized what behavior like this meant. "D-" was the only syllable she managed to get out before a gust of wind blew through the street.
The little dog's barking cease, all sense immediately picking up something in a way no human could ever understand. It took a few steps back, eyes locked on the brown canine much larger than it that stood where the suspicious looking boy had been a second ago. Its ears up and perked forward in interest as it stared at the little dog, shoulders held broad and tail hoisted up, swishing left then right as excitement built in the other animal.
The Wolf took a step forward, yellow brown eyes trained on the little dog. he small mutt literally turned tail, running away in a frenzy of tiny sprinting limbs.
The wag in The Wolf's tail increased, and he began to pant.
Sensing what was about to happen, Mabel reached out a hand for her brother, "Dipper NO!"
Before her skin even touched his fur, The Wolf was off, sprinting after the little dog at a nimble pace, tongue flapping against the side of his mouth with each great bound, sleek and lean body bolting down the road like a bullet. He cornered even better than the little dog, despite his larger size, as his legs where longer, more flexible and coordinate, and sturdier for that length, big paws gripping the ground. So while the little dog tumbled over itself as itself as it scrambled around the end of the street to make it back it its owner, the pup near gracefully was catching up.
Soon Dipperpup was upon the little dog as it raced back to its owner, yapping that high-pitched, piercing yap one again as it panicked, tiny padded paw over tiny padded paw; however, the speed The Wolf had built up carried it right past the smaller dog. Slowing to a trot, The Wolf jumped around to face the little dog, intending to play, but the small mutt raced right between his legs and was snatched up by his owner. Dipper bent his neck down, looking through the gap underneath him that the dog had sprang through. Catching sight of human legs Dipper yanked his head up and jumped around, tailing wagging as he ran around the man holding the scared little dog in his arms.
"Hey there, boy-ha-hey! Get off me!" The man responded to the pup prancing around him, then jumped up onto his leg. The man shook his leg, but Dipper jumped up again, excitedly playing, the rush of the chase sending doggy-adrenaline right to his brain. Simply put, he was wound up and to play. He continued jumping on the man, who wasn't exactly opposed to the pup's play, but found the constant badgering to be an annoyance.
He gave the little brown "dog" a slight kick the next time he jumped up, docking him off. When The Wolf's front paws were planted back on the ground, he lifted his fuzzy head up to look at the man, tail now still, ears perked up, and yellow brown eyes wide as he looked at the man not expectantly, or curiously, but rather, knowingly.
Turning his attention elsewhere and lowering his head he trotted off, light gait building into a run as all fours carried him down and across the street right as Mabel arrived and called out for him. It was hard to run as fast as you could in the summer while wearing a sweater and carrying an umbrella.
And lets not forget she hadn't been eating as much as she should have. All in all, this probably slowed her down and gave time for Dipper to disappear down the end of the street.
Heart pumping, nostrils wettening with mucus as a result of the exertion, and fur pressed back against his lean body as the air washed over his form, Dipper sprinting off the sidewalk, over the asphalt, and onto a stretch of grass that ran next to a home. Ducking between a line of bushes he emerged onto a field, having entered a more rural area of town. Sprint not stopping, the pup's youthful energy propelling it through the tall wild grass, big paws and claws digging into the ground. Back legs drawing forward as he pulled himself onward, then pushing out when they came down in a spasm of muscle, launching him forward, the dry yellow grass tinted golden in the mid-day sun crunching under paw.
Nearly gliding over the field with the majestic grace only a true wild predator could posses, Dipper exploded through the grass on the other side and running through the nearby treeline. Taking a sharp he continued to run parallel to the treeline, moving as it moved with the rise and fall of the land. He would stop for a few minutes to catch his breath, sniff the area, and roll around in some very interesting smelling pine needles. His chest burning as his lungs craved air, he panted heavily, exposing his tongue to the warm air, exhaling excess heat and letting the saliva evaporate in his mouth to cool him down.
Once he felt slightly renewed, and thoroughly smelled of whatever he had just rolled in, the young Dipperpup was off. If he had been in a pack he may have taken the time to scent mark, a behavior lone wolves do not exhibits as it would give their location away. And after a few run-ins werewolf packs, he decided he'd much rather not get harassed by snotty wolfmen and women.
Weaving in and of the trees, stopping to gaze out over the landscape from the treeline, despite his long distance vision not being quite as good as it was when he was human, he would wander the wildplace. This was… right. Being like this was right. Yet it wasn't quite right. Even without the same level of higher thought a man had, somewhere deep in it's mind The Wolf still wasn't quite as sure if it was acting as it should. Wasn't sure if it's movements were quite right, and if it shouldn't be walking on its back paws instead.
It would shrug it off though. That long, and quite possibly passionate, romp it had up to here had gotten it used to the movements, and whenever that sense of unease and animal uncertainty filled him and he couldn't understand why, he'd just go back to the motions, burying himself deep in wolf behavior. When he did this any doubt he had disappeared as he did as his form was always meant to do.
To lose that sense of dysmorphia, all he ever had to do was be The Wolf.
Trotting over pine needled, dry twigs, pitch, and dirt, he reach the peak of a hill, smelling decomposing grass feed and corn on the wind. Human or wolf, you remember the smell of a farm. It's not exactly pleasant to either one, though the wolf would find it more fascinating. and given that it was still Dipper, fur and all, he was curious. Peaking past the treeline he saw the outline of the farm not a mile away, and he continued along the treeline, staying out of the open as he went to investigate.
Drawing closer an old memory played in his brain as he made out the setting. Sprott's farm was dull and fairly inactive, the petting zoo not open today, and most choirs done for the moment. The place was nearly a cut and past imagine of what you expected a farm to look like: dark red barn with white roof, windmill stretching to the sky, blunted propellers turning slowly in the occasional dull gust of wind, and animals napping in the shade to escape the midday heat.
Crouching low as he looked over the homestead, the young wolf crept forward, he prowled to the fence, and sliding under he snuck along the side of one of the farm structures: a shack. Ears perked up and on alert for any dangers, he came around the corner slowly, padded feet dampening sound. Finding no one the general vicinity, no humans anyway, he came out from behind the shack, sniffing and looking around.
One smell and sight attracted him in particular: the chicken coop. Seeing the pen a memory fire in his mind. Recognizing the easy prey, and looking around to make sure no one was watching, Dipper snuck towards the structure that housed the flightless bird. Getting close he silently circled around it, the tall chicken wire blocked off all entry save for a gate at the front, a successful deterrent for most predators.
But a werewolf was not most predators.
Seeing the bolted latch on the gate, another memory fired in the wolf's mind. He didn't have the same mental capacity as his human form normally did, but he had all of his human memories and understanding of what a thing was that he normally did. Rearing on his hind legs he rested his front paws on the gate. Budging and biting the latch he pried the handle up and locked his jaws. With a little effort he slides it back, dropping back down onto his paws as the gate swings open, the young wolf lightly treading in.
Going up the ramp to the elevated coop, paws touching down tenderly and slowly as he draws himself near. He slides his head in through the small square opening in the pen, this was one of the low hanging coops where the ceiling was just lifted up and the farmer could pick out eggs and chickens as they saw fit, making a single long row on either side, chickens lined up like they were on display in the isle for a predator's grocery store.
Unfortunately only some where asleep, and when they saw The Wolf's head peering through their front door an alarm of clucks went up through the coop as the chickens panicked. Sliding his small frame through, The Wolf's vision locked on one and it sprang, teeth flashing and powerful jaws biting down. There was a panicked screech from the capture fowl, driving the rest of the coop wild. Its wings flapped and its body spasmed as it tried desperately, yet futilely, to get away. Dipper pulled the poultry to him, pinning it under his paws as he unlocked his jaw and went for a more a more appropriate kill at the neck. The feathered food let out another horrified screech, tiny brain washed over with dread as The Wolf's jaws came down.
Dipper shook the kill in his mouth a little, making sure it was good and done.
"Emmit! Go get the gun! I say, go get the gun!"
The young wolf's head bolted upright, dropping the chicken that had been dead in his mouth as his ears shot up. Spinning around in the limited space he poked his head out the small door.
D'Shawn held the gate closed, back turned to the coop as he commanded Emmit who stood behind him. Dipper tail went between his legs, his ears going back flat against his head, while the hair on his back began to stand up defensively. He crawled backwards deep into the pen, chickens racing around him and tumbling over each other to be the first ones out the door and away from the predator. Deep in his mind, the werewolf knew that this was very, very bad
"I've got the gate, now get that bloody gun before that heir damn coyote kills more hens! Stop being ah git, and-Oh sweetholyshit!"
D'Shawn's voice was overwhelmed by a sudden deep and aggressive snarling, the sounds of huge forms running, tripping, scrambling up, screaming, and cursing were followed by vicious snarling and dangerously feral barks.
Dipper remained in the back of the coop, its only resident now save for a few unhatched eggs. The gate could be heard being forced open, the chickens panicked and confused clucks growing even more so as they parted for someone. The top of the roof shook a little, Dipper whimpering as he shook at the very back, looking up at the ceiling as something moved it. Finally with a large skrush the roof was pried open, and a young man dressed in a loose green brown shirt hoisted it up and held it open, letting rays of piercing summer sunlight bombard the inside.
Dipper winced as it was open, unsure of what to expected, the noise, movement, and figure frightening to him. Whoever this was looked down at the cowering werewolf, then over to the chicken he left abandoned near the entrance. He reached over a tan hand, and grabbed it by its scaly legs. He pulled it up before him, its dead frame swinging back and forth slightly in the air.
"...Well?!" The man about a year or two out of his teens asked impatiently. "Come on!" He jerked his head to the left, motioning out to the exit and gate. "Get your fuzzy butt moving!"
Dipper instantly scrambled over the wooden floor to get out of the pen, black nails scraping over the boards as he ran for the exit. The man let the roof drop as the young werewolf slid his slim wiry frame though the small square opening and bolted for the gate. The tall man ran with him, and together they went out, jumping over the fence and disappearing into the forest.
Gravity Falls: Mystery Shack
Mabel sat at the table, little keister planted in the chair while she laid her face against the old flat table. Depression was a kind of deflating feeling, as if what's holding you up is seeping out of you, and gravity is pulling your whole form down. She was hungry, a vampire, couldn't get any food at the moment, and had lost Dipper again. So yeah, she was sad. And laying there she felt as if she just wanted to go flat and melt over the table as her cheek squished against wooden surface, turned head fixing her gaze on the clock, body completely stationary as she watched the hands move little by little.
After she hadn't been able to catch Dipper or find him, she called Grunkle Stan, then animal control. There was a werewolf working for them, and she got what Dipper was going though. Venkman made sure Dipper always got back to Mabel, and she had even been nice enough to give her a ride back to the Mystery Shack.
Mabel hoped they found him soon. He had ran off like this on a few occasions before, he was a wolf after all, a wild animal, not a dog, but he hadn't done it two times in a row or when she was there before.
The doorbell range.
Mabel sat up. "I'LL GET IT!" She yelled through the house, sliding back her chair as she dismounted, she walked out from the kitchen and into the staircase entryway, going for the door. She turned the the handle and opened the door, putting on the best smile she could muster, and squeezing out as much enthusiasm as she could. "Welcome to the Mystery Shack: home of mystery, wonder, annnnnd you're kind of cute!" She said, tone and demeanor changing as she trailed off, staring up at the tall young adult in front of her, semi-transfixed on his face.
"Thank you," he said, a note subtle charisma and actual gratitude in his tone, "Yes I am." He lifted up a very young brown wolf, hands hooked under the fur covered armpits, its long lupine body hanging down, back paws resting on the ground to support it's lower half as it panted in excitement, tail wagging as it saw Mabel. "This your brother?"
"Dipper?!" Mabel gasped, grabbing her brother and pulling him into a crushing hug while the pup licked her face. "Bad boy!" She squeezed him some more, swinging him from side to side as she snuggled against him, his little legs rocking in the air as she held and swayed him. "Do we need to have you chipped? I think we need to have the bad boy chipped!" She petted his head, his fuzzy brown brow scrunching up as he squinted his eyes in pleasure, tail wagging as he leaned forward, planting lupine kisses on Mabel's cheek. Touch was an intimate act among most mammals, especially social ones like wolves and humans, so this tender moment was made all the more important to the twins as they embrace.
She looked back to the tall young man standing patiently on the porch, smiling with a little grin as he looked on to Dipper and Mabel's display of sibling love, laughing as little as he watched the cute enthusiastic parade of affection. She blinked twice. She was missing something. Something that he said. And it took her moment to place it. "Wait, what did you mean by "bother?'" She laughed nervously. "Haha, whaaaaaaaat? That's ridiculous! This is my dog. I mean, hahaha, he's more like my... hapless little baby than my brother."
If you remember the incident with the truth teeth,, you'd know she's a terrible liar.
The person standing over her's mouth twitched, and though it was clear they was trying to hide it, he couldn't stop his facial muscles from peeling his lips up in a big grin that was knowing, smug, mischievous, and reflected a deep sense of being entertained as he watched her.
Mabel laughed nervously again, glancing from side to side, and feeling inexplicably warm in her sweater all of a sudden.
The young man thought this out. "Heh, okay..." he said, scratching the side of his face, nails racking over the skin and stubble. "I really don't know how to respond to this, so I'll just try saying it." He lowered his hand, placing it in his pocket causally. "I know about the werewolf thing. I just caught him killing a chicken at Sprott's farm." He took a step back, feeling a little uncomfortable with the poorly done reveal. He turned to the right to look at the dead chicken that was laying in the dirt. Dipper had taken it from him on the way back. The pup hadn't seemed to be interested in eating it, so he must have had other plans judging by how proudly and deliberately he carried it. "You said his name's Dipper?"
"Yeah. How'd did you... oh... Ohhhhhhhhhh!" Mabel's face lit up with a big smile, letting go of Dipper she pointed right at the dude's chest, The Wolf going and picking up the chicken. "You're that werewolf he met last night!"
He smiled wolfishly, as cliche as that sounded, nodding forward with a grin and a sly wink. "Yep. What gave it away?"
"Just a hunch." Mabel shrugged, Dipper returning to her side with the chicken's corpse dangling in his mouth.
"Good hunch." He said, taking his hands out of his pockets and tapping his thighs just bellow them. "I was keeping and eye on you guys since last night and followed you into town."
"Creep. Why?"
He titled his head in a dog like manner, looking down at Dipper with a calm warmth. "Hey!" He exclaimed in a slightly indignant mannor, gaze still on the younger werewolf. "If I hadn't he would have been dealing with some very angry farmers. The complete reason why is a little more 'complex.'" Raising his hand on level with his shoulder, letting it hang limply from his wrist as he tossed it around in a circular motion with the last two words. "Mind if I come inside?" He stopped the motion with his hand and grab his pocket again. "It's little awkward just standing out here."
"Sure." Mabel said, making way for him. "Name's Mabel!" She offered out a hand enthusiastically. "Mabel Pines!"
"Thank you." He said, taking a step inside, and shaking her small hand firmly. "My name's Ben. Benjamin Geraust."
She smiled as they went inside, placing her hands on her hips, gaze narrowing suspiciously as she looked at Ben with a sly smile. "That's weird last name."
"It's German. They're all weird."
Mabel laughed all the way to the living room, missing that Dipper had just brought a dead chicken into the house until he dropped it in her laps when she sat on the recliner. "Whoa, WHAT?!" She yelled, looking down in shock at the dead fowl slumped in her, then to Dipper sitting on his haunches, looking at her expectantly. "Um... thanks, bro?"
His tail began to wag, swishing back and forth in wide sweeping motions, his breath became a pant with anticipation, hot and moist as he exhaled each rapid puff, eyes wide with excitement. This all translated roughly to Yay! You eat now!
Ben scratched behind Dipper's ear as he looked down at Mabel. "I think he wants you to eat it."
"What? Ewwwww!" Mabel stuck her tongue out in protest and disgust, squinting as she scrunched up her face and eyes for good measure.
Ben was quite as he watched Mabel's display of indignation, calmly looking over her then sniffing the air a little. "...You haven't been eating very well, have you?" He said, gently. "And if you're uncomfortable with the vampire thing, I already know about that too." He traced a circle in the air around his nose. "Can smell it. Plus, the pointy ears and fangs are a dead give away."
Blushing, Mabel quickly cupped her hands over her ears, glancing down and avoiding eye contact with the guy in embarrassment, being sure to keep her mouth closed tight to conceal her fangs too.
"Whoa now," he said softly, raising his left hand up defensively, as if to show he wasn't a threat, instantly seeing that he had hit a sore spot for the poor girl "It's aright. I get it," he crouched down, lowering his hand and resting it on his knee as he leaned forward towards Mabel, his face, smile, and shiny eyes kind and gentle, understanding even, "You're talking to a guy who grows a tail, has to resist sniffing dog butt, and deals with the compulsion to pee on things to mark his "territory." Which is basically the house and any place I feel comfortable if I'm at there for too long I get it. It can be uncomfortable and embarrassing for other people to see, but if you're really hungry, it will help. No need to be embarrassed or ashamed."
Dipper placing his head on her leg whining slightly knowing something was wrong. Mabel looked up at Ben, staring for a few seconds quietly before removing her hands from her ears. Without going into vast detail: she ate it. Plucking a few feathers she drained all the blood she could. It was disgusting, much better when it was fresh, but blood was still good a few hours after it had been drawn or the animal in question had died, and though it really wasn't that good, underneath the forced consumption she couldn't help but jokingly think to herself, "it tastes like chicken."
The blood wasn't all that filling. She was still very hungry, but this could at least hold her down for a while.
"Feel any better?" Ben asked calmly.
"Yep!" Mabel responded, putting a little extra effort into making it sound particularly satisfied as she patted she stomach.
"Well good. Do you think Dipper will want the rest? Dry chicken is still chicken." They both looked at the young werewolf, who seemed more interested in being petted than anything else, so they wouldn't bother. Ben raised his right hand, stretching his fingers out from his palm, muscles in it going ridged as they stretched, "Well then, lets get him here so we can talk." He placed his hand down firmly on the young werewolf's furry head.
The Wolf's yellow brown eyes went wide as they glazed over, losing focus on anything in particular and just facing forward. His ears drooped down, hanging limp on the sides of his head, the movement his tail stopping as it laid flat on the floor. The lights in the Shack flickered, and in less than a second Dipper was sitting on his bum where The Wolf had been. Ben removed his hand from Dipper's head covered in thick brown hair, the boy looking around in bewilderment, momentarily disoriented and trying to get his bearings.
"Hello, Dipper," Ben said as he stood up, Dipper jerking his head to face the source of the unfamiliar voice, "We met last night."
"Hey, Dipper! Glad to have you back, you naughty dog." Mabel said with a smile, Dipper jerking his head to look at her too.
"Wai-what?!" He said exasperantly, blinking repeatedly as he looked from Mabel to Ben, mind trying to process this sensory information, but hitting a wall each time. "W-what's going on!"
"Well to recap," Mabel raised her hand in front of her and began counting off her fingers, "We were looking for the werewolf you met last night. A tiny dog charged us barking and that set you off. You ran away. Made it to Sprott's farm. Got in trouble. Had Ben save your fuzzy butt and bring you back here. And finally it turns out he's the werewolf we were looking for, and he was following us because he wanted to keep an eye on you and ask you some stuff."
"Oh..." Dipper blinked a few more times, rubbing the side of his head, looking at the dead chicken. "Oh yeah... I remember. Something with fields and chickens." He looked up at the tall young man. "So you're..."
"Ben," he said, taking Dipper's hand firmly and lifting him up, "and I wanted to talk to you."
"Whoa!" Dipper yelled, legs wobbling as he stood upright, not quite used to standing on hind legs after a long run as The Wolf. He threw his arms out, balancing himself before looking over to him. "What about? And why? Not to mention what's going on and all the general "what the heck" questions that should just be raised right now?"
Ben took a step back, clapping his hands together as if he was limbering up for a race while he walked around him. "A lot of reasons, actually," that note of charisma he had when speaking to Mabel returning. "It was pretty obvious that you hadn't been a lycanthrope for very long, I could smell that you were bitten instead of born with the condition, and you clearly had very little experience. Plus, you were a little guy alone in the woods when I found you. Naturally I wanted to make sure you'd be alright, and find out more about you. Make sure you could handle yourself, and maybe offer deeded guidance from someone with more experience." His words flowed out very fast and fluidly while he made little hand gestures and motions, fingers always moving and fidgeting with something, be it themselves, his shirt, or a little soft steel cross he had tied to a strap of leather wrapped around his neck. Mabel noted how his demeanor seemed to fluctuate since they met. Starting out as charismatic, then slightly awkward, then soft and warm, then serious then back to charismatic and passionate again. "So," he said, clapping his hands together, "Since I've had lycanthropy my whole life, I thought I could offer you some help if you were interested. Teach you to control it and such." He opened his hands and held them out on level with his abdomen, as if holding something in each palm, offering whatever was in them to Dipper.
Dipper glanced at the man's smile, then to Mabel, then to the hands, saying after a moment of staring, "Umm... thank you, but... no thanks!" He raised his hands defensively, turning his face to the side as he kept his eyes trained on him. "I mean, really, I like that you took the time to look into a werewolf kid you just met cause you were concerned, and I really appreciate the save at the farm, but I'd rather not take werewolf lessens from someone I don't know. And even then I'm not entirely sure I'd want werewolf "lessons" at all." He a stepped back, placing his hands in his pockets. "Thanks again, but I don't really want to learn how to be a werewolf. I just want this thing to be over with."
"Ah...," Ben nodded his head. "I see. Understandable." There was a silence between the three of them, the awkwardness in it escalating with each passing second. "Well, I should be going then. It was very nice to meet both of you. Sorry I can't be of assistance. I'll take care of the chicken." He picked up the chicken by its scaly feet, turning to walk out, waving slightly.
Mabel sprang up. "Whoawhoahwhoa, WHOA!" She waved her hands around in large circular motions, building up momentum with each "whoa." She jumped around, turning in the air to face Dipper with an explosion of disbelief. "Bro, you sure about that? A werewolf whose really nice, brought you back home when you were lost, and is offering to teach you how to live with your furry self fell into your lap, and you're saying "no thank you?"' She held her hands out to Dipper pleadingly, Ben taking a step away behind her. "I mean, what the heck, man?!"
"I..." Dipper trailed off, sinking into his mind defensively, then stopping as a fire lit in his chest, knowing why he said no but to afraid to vocalize it. Clenching his hands into fists in resolve. "I don't want to be MORE of a monster!" He blurted out, getting light headed as he filtered out his anger from his words. "I want this to go away and never come back, just like you do. I don't want it to be a bigger part of my life, I want it to be gone. Thanks, but, no."
Mabel looked at him for a second, blinking once, then twice. "Oh... I'm sorry."
"It's aright, Mabel." Came Ben voice from the archway to the stairway entry. They looked over to him, his hands in his pockets while smiled kindly. "It makes complete sense. I wouldn't want to learn from some weirdo either." He let out a small chuckle. "Though I don't see it as a curse, but I've had it my whole life, so I guess I'm bias. But Dipper, if you ever change your mind, I'd happy to show you why I it can be a blessing." Though it sounded like a cliche thing to say, it seemed right to Ben. His wolf half was part of him for his whole life, and he couldn't agree with someone who wrote that intrinsic part of himself off as lesser.
Dipper grabbed the bill of his hat, bulling it down over his eyes, preferring not to look at him for the moment. "Thank you."
Ben stepped out, heading for the door. "See you later. It was very nice meeting you both." He waved, his voice genuine, the dead chicken he intended to dispose of in one hand.
Mabel growled a little in frustration, shaking slightly as she held still in place before she rushed out to the front door. "Wait."
Ben turned around, a step outside the door and into the hot summer atmosphere, just about to close it behind him.
Mabel opened the door back up. "Dipper's a big doofus. Come on, I bet we can convince him to listen." After running away twice in such a short time, Mabel was very open to the idea of Dipper learning to control his animal half. If it happened again he might get hurt one of these times, or get lost and never find his way back.
Ben pondered it for a second. "...No." He said, very flatly. "Probably would only build up his resolve if he's stubborn like that. You can try to convince him though." Seeing Mabel nod, but expression sink a little, he continued, "but how's his: get me a pen and paper and I'll give you my number in case you convince he of otherwise, he changes his mind, or you guys need help?"
