I've been awful and totally ignored the mountain of requests, I'm so sorry! I'm super busy this week and next week though, so I can't promise updates immediately. You all are fantastic and amazing readers, and I can't believe so many of you love these one-shots as much as you do! (Also, Lea Valdez posted a thing about me in her "Critique of the Week" on her profile if anyone wants to check it out. Thanks a billion to you, Lea!)
From SophiaCrutchfeild: "Can you do something like Dipper gets attacked by all manner of monsters and beats them, so why can't he lift a stick in Dipper V/S Manliness?"
As in, why he couldn't lift that stick during the episode? Sure, I'll give it a try! Enjoy!
Loser
Dipper wasn't the strongest kid on the playground as a small boy or the biggest and most intimidating boy in general. He knew that easily after he tried to fight with one of the biggest bullies in elementary school to stop them from teasing him about his birthmark. It didn't end well - for Dipper, that is. The bully got out with a suspension and a scratch or two, at the minimum. He wasn't expecting to grow muscles anytime soon. He had accepted that these noodle arms were here to stay for quite some time.
Somehow, this didn't comfort the preteen as it usually did.
He lay on the grass, stick resting upon his chest as he stared glumly up at the clouds. Dipper was still trying to shake off the laughter ringing in his ears, a sound that he couldn't forget after the incident in the diner. It had been humiliating and he didn't think he could possibly face Stan or Mabel after seeing how they'd been dying of laughter.
Why am I so weak?
The boy flinched as soon as that depressing thought burst into existence. He felt an ache in his chest, a dull pain that just didn't want to go away, and glanced back at the stick. It looked so simple to pick up, so light.
Yet as he grabbed it, a heavy weight fell upon his shoulders. There was no physical burden but Dipper definitely felt something weighing down his small body. He recalled the laughter from his friends, his family, everyone in this town - it was always him, it just had to be him - and his noodle-like arms found the, selves struggling to benchpress the stick.
He just couldn't do anything right, could he?
Panting, he managed to get the stick up as high as possible.
Dipper knew it wasn't that this stick was heavy - which it certainly shouldn't have been - but more of the fact that these taunts and the laughter... they were the things weighing his arms down.
He was so weak. He couldn't even lift a stupid stick.
He flinched at the memory of Stan and Mabel dying of laughter after he got humiliated with that manliness tester. They were only teasing, he knew they were, but it still caused an ache inside of him.
Maybe I'm just not manly enough. Maybe they're right.
He rested the stick on his chest. On the whim of a nonsensical hope, he peeked under his shirt for any sign of chest hair, and upon seeing none the boy groaned.
What was the secret to being so macho and tough? And why couldn't he be more like that?
Sorry, sort of short because I got writer's block for a few days as well. I hope I did a good job!