i wrote the last chapter for you

Mabel worries about Dipper.

She knows he's having a hard time readjusting to the level living in Piedmont after surviving a localized apocalypse. And it's not like it's just that easy for her, either. She doesn't have a magic raygun that blasts away bad thoughts (though that would be so awesome).

But Dipper doesn't have the support in Piedmont that she does. Mabel has Louisa and Haley and Sarah and Phoebe and Michelle and Tammy and Tina and Pooja and the girls from the knitting club at the rec center and Waddles. Sure, she feels like she's not quite the same person she was when summer started. Sure, she feels like she's left an important part of herself in Gravity Falls. And yes, all those friends of hers don't understand how she's changed, and she doesn't feel as close to them as she used to. But they're still her friends, and they are still there for her. And she texts Candy and Grenda and Wendy and Soos all the time, and messages them on social media, and commented on every single picture Grenda posted from Austria. Mabel misses them and her grunkles so much, but they aren't gone, not really.

And, yes, sometimes she wakes up in a cold sweat and sees triangles in the shapes of the shadows on her ceiling. But she'll be fine, because she believes she will be.

She knows that Dipper probably misses the journals. Getting to read through all of them after they'd been restored by the reset of Weirdmageddon had been wonderful for him. He had let them go easily enough after Grunkle Ford decided to throw them in the bottomless pit. It had been a clean break, which seemed like something they all needed then (burning everything with Bill's image on it had helped, too).

But even if that had been best for Grunkle Ford, maybe it hadn't been best for Dipper? He has his new journal with the pine tree symbol on the cover, but he's barely touched it since they returned. It's true that Piedmont doesn't have as much to write about, obviously, but still… It hadn't been only the mystery of the book inspiring him. He had loved keeping a journal.

She wonders (though not often, because the thought is painful) if Dipper should have stayed with Grunkle Ford. Maybe he would have been happier pursuing anomalies or whatever it is Stan and Ford are doing. She's been watching him, and even though everything seems more or less the same, she knows it's not. He's hiding himself just enough to keep Mom and Dad from noticing, but now they are starting to.

It's harder for him; Mabel understands that. Dipper is all about Gravity Falls and its weirdness. He'd been obsessed with the journals and monsters and magic. It all changed the way Mabel sees the world, too, she gets it, and leaving the Falls is one of the hardest things she's ever done—

(and deep down, where thoughts are almost unarticulated, she suspects—as Dipper also must—that she can't really go back to how it was, that the weirdness is a part of her now in ways which will manifest in time, she's not done changing, and her attempts to rebalance herself in Piedmont are just a temporary necessity until she finds the Falls again)

—but it is done, and they have a life to return to. It's not like it's a bad life. Just… not as exciting.

She looks out her window at the backyard, where there's neatly trimmed grass, two trees, and not a single fairy, and thinks, Okay, maybe he has a point.

Unlike Dipper, Mabel has a very limited tolerance for introspection. She's had more than enough deep thinking for one day, so she flops off her knees to land next to Waddles, who is half-asleep at the foot of her bed. She presses her face close to his and his eyes open. He sits up, ready to be the center of her attention.

"What do you think, Waddles? Will Dipper snap out of it?" She pushes her fingers against his chubby cheeks, slightly opening his mouth in time with her words as she intones, "'Of course he will, Mabel. He just needs our help.'" She drops her hands, pauses, then puts them to his cheeks again to add, "'Oink oink!'" She grins brightly at the pig. "Waddles, you always know just what to say."

She watches Dipper closely for the next week. He seems something close to normal at home, but when she sees him at school it's like he's only partially there. He's always been prone to boredom at school, the sort of student who needs to be challenged by honors classes just to maintain his interest. But even those don't seem enough to keep him engaged anymore. Maybe now that he's spent a summer grappling with the kinds of equations and mysteries that led to magic and multiversal monsters there's not really anything eighth grade can throw at him that's worth his while.

Mabel's not worried about his grades. Dipper's too smart for that, he can pass without trying. What worries her is how, as a month slips by, his friends and interests slip through his fingers. Dipper has never been a social animal, but he used to put forward at least some effort. She's glad he's texting Wendy and Soos and replying to the sporadic contact they have from their grunkles. She's glad he's clinging to the family they made during the summer, just as she is. But she watches as he sits on the edge of every lunch table conversation and she knows what he's doing, even if he doesn't.

He's letting go of Piedmont.

Which is a problem, because they still have to live here. And because Mom and Dad are getting more worried about him by the week, and it's probably only a matter of time before they send him to a therapist he can never be honest with.

Mabel wants Dipper to come back to her, too. She wants them to be engaged in something, together, to be the Mystery Twins again. She spends time with her friends and talks and knits and bezazzles her face to impress them, but afterward she'd really like to see Dipper grab his journal and send the both of them off into an adventure that will change something, even if that something is just them.

Her inspiration comes from the local morning paper.

Her dad is reading it while he's eating a bowl of boring whole-grain-bran-dad-flakes and drinking juice without any plastic dinosaurs in it so what's the point. On the back page is a small, special interest column. Mabel catches the words 'abandoned' and 'ghost' and asks if she can see it when he's done. Dad is momentarily taken aback, having never been asked for his paper before, but he obliges.

The article is a rather tongue-in-cheek piece detailing a pair of homeowners who fled their domicile after what they claimed was a haunting; the author assumes it is a publicity stunt of some kind, possibly courting the attention of less-than-reputable reality shows like Ghost Harassers. But what if it isn't? And even if it is, Mabel doesn't care, because she and Dipper are just the team to prove it either way.

What Dipper needs is to get back in his groove. Maybe a pine tree journal is good enough for normal stuff, but Mabel has this idea that it isn't good enough for weird stuff. If Dipper is missing Gravity Falls and everything that comes with it, then she thinks she might be able to bring a piece of the Falls back to him, even if only in a small way.

First, she gets a ride from her mom to an arts and crafts store, where she buys the nicest, leather-bound, real-parchment journal she can find. It costs more than she has, but when her mother questions why she wants it so badly and she explains it's for Dipper, Mom gets that same look in her eye that she and Dad have had since the end of summer when they're thinking about him. Mom buys the journal.

Mabel takes it back home and sets to work in her room, digging through her crafting supplies for glue and gold vinyl. Late that night, she sneaks into Dipper's room and traces his hand on a blank sheet while he's asleep. She spends a solid hour trying to decide if the new journal is number one or number four.

Eventually, it becomes Journal A.

She waits until the weekend to spring it on Dipper. She's not good at waiting or keeping secrets she wants to share, and her energy levels overcompensate. By Wednesday, Dipper suspects something. By Friday, her parents take away her Mabel Juice.

Saturday morning, she pops the lock on Dipper's door, smears a dollop of honey on his cheek with a plastic spoon, and tosses Waddles into his bed. The pig eagerly sets to work, licking the honey up and bringing Dipper sputtering and flailing into consciousness.

"Waddles! Come on!" he protests, trying to hold the pig back from his face. Waddles' hooves wave determinedly in the air as he surges forward.

"But Dipper, you're just so sweet!" Mabel proclaims, poking his knees until he pulls his legs up.

He rolls over and hides beneath his comforter as Waddles roots around for another way in. "Ugh, Mabel. This is one of two days we get to sleep in. Why would you do this to me? Or yourself, for that matter."

"Because… big reveal—" she tosses the newspaper article at him. It lands on his shrouded head, and Waddles, never all that picky, begins to chew on it. "It's ghost hunterin' time! And I know you ain't afraid!"

Dipper cautiously peeks out of his protective cocoon. "Ghost hunting?"

"Uh, yeah, only the best thing to hunt, like, ever. Woop woop!" Mabel clambers over him until they are face to face. "Pack it up and move it out, bro-bro. This train is rollin' non-stop to Spooksville!"

Dipper tugs the sloppy remnants of the article out of Waddles mouth and examines it. "…Wait, you think this is for real?"

"It's in the paper, Dipper! That's what old people who care about boring stuff read so it's chockfull of truthiness!"

He looks doubtful. "I don't know. It's just not weird around here like it is in Gravity Falls."

Mabel has already anticipated this reaction and dug through her memory for the perfect counterpoint. "No, but Grunkle Ford said he went to Gravity Falls because it had the most anoma-whatevers, not the only ones. Besides, remember that grody old spider-lady?"

She can see him start to come around and her excitement grows.

"Well, I think that was still in Roadkill County, but… it would have been outside the barrier. And, yeah, he did say that…" Dipper sits up. "Mabel, I think you're right."

"I'm always right," she happily reminds him.

"Yeah, because eating all that Smile Dip was clearly the best decision," he says.

She feels slightly nauseous just thinking about the pink powder. "It wasn't a mistake if I learned something."

"Such as?"

"That it was banned for a reason, and it tastes much worse the second time around." Her grin falters. "So much worse."

"Okay, let's stop talking about that," Dipper says quickly, probably recalling the sound of her vomiting late into that night.

"Instead, we should talk—about—this!" Mabel reaches back and grabs the journal, presenting it triumphantly.

Dipper squints. "'The Sibling Brothers in The Magical Mystery of the Mythical Museum's Mystical History?'"

"Whoops!" She tosses that book aside and reaches back again, making sure her fingers close on leather this time. "Talk, about… this!"

"What is…" Dipper trails off as he takes in the sight of the new journal. "Wait, did… Mabel, did you make this?"

She holds it even closer to his face in response, waggling it enticingly.

He is speechless. He reaches out and takes it, rubbing his thumbs over the new leather. Frowning, he places his hand over the golden one on the cover. It's a perfect fit. "That's why there was magic marker on my fingers." He cracks the journal open, breathing in the scent of fresh parchment. "Mabel, this is amazing. You are seriously the best."

"Oh, stop it, you," she playfully demurs, waving a limp sweater arm at him. "I figured you'd need it when we get to ghost harassing. I know you have the other one already, but—"

"This is better," he interrupts, placing his hand on the cover again. "This is… I don't know, it's just right. I was trying to start over and be different with the whole pine tree thing, but… I think a part of me never really wanted to."

Mabel couldn't be happier. "A journal just isn't the same without a creepy hand on it, that's what I always say!"

Dipper, who is beginning to appear more interested and engaged than he has since he stepped off the bus, suddenly looks crestfallen. "But I don't remember everything. There was a lot on ghosts, I can remember… some of it. Maybe not enough."

She refuses to believe that. "Yeah, right! There's probably only a million ghost facts rolling around in your giant smarty head. You just need to get out there, Dipper! Use it or lose it!"

His disappointment morphs into determination, and her heart rises at the sight. "We can at least see what kind of ghost it is, if there is one. I'll email Grunkle Ford just in case. He probably won't get back to me in time for it to matter, though."

"It'll matter next time," Mabel says slyly.

Slowly, Dipper smiles. "Yeah. Next time."