Title: urban fantasy
A/N: For the Gravity Falls 10 years Later zine! I feel like after they've grown a bit older and living in the 'normal' world, it's easy to lose sight of the magic of that one summer. Especially with the grunkles off in a boat somewhere. Maybe they'd imagined it all. Maybe magic was gone. Maybe they're doomed to ordinary lives like the rest of us.
Summary: There were no faeries in university. There were no gnomes, centaurs, or unicorns either. Dipper hadn't seen any sign of weirdness anywhere, really, but Gravity Falls, and some part of him feared that one summer was last he'd time he'd touch the supernatural.
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There are no faeries in the University of California, Berkeley.
There were no gnomes, centaurs, or unicorns either. Dipper wasn't surprised. Most cities didn't have magic, aliens, or supernatural creatures. The few that did had only the smallest whispers of the strange, the kind of things that were easy to overlook and miss. In the ten years since his summer at Gravity Falls, Dipper could count on one hand the shenanigans he'd fallen into.
That didn't make his disappointment any less. He sighed as he meandered down the street, taking in the sprawling campus around him. Part of him had hoped that with its history, the university would prove different.
"There's no faeries here either," Mabel replied in his ear, chipper as ever. If something hadn't changed with time, it was her overbearingly positive attitude. "I even checked Central Park—you know, they have an Alice in Wonderland area? But none of the weird things that she met. It's like, are you even trying?"
Dipper stared blankly into the distance, his grip relaxing on his phone. It was like she'd read his mind. "Huh?"
Unfazed by his lack of response, Mabel rattled on, "Well, actually, I think I saw a wererat or something in the subway, but that might have just been a normal rat too. Apparently they can grow as big as a cat? Which actually is freakier than anything I've ever seen. Who'd you think would win in a fight?"
She'd always been good at filling in the silence. Even now, states apart, that hadn't changed. Ever the social butterfly, Mabel always had something to say, whether it was gossip or a discovery or her feelings on a really niche topic that no one else knew about.
On the plus side, her monologue gave Dipper enough time to process their conversation. He must have accidentally spoken aloud. His ears flushed red with embarrassment and he rubbed his neck, even though she couldn't see that through the screen. Chuckling awkwardly, he replied, "I guess magic just doesn't like cities."
"Cities?" Mabel snorted, cutting off her rant on how the commuters on the subway were the real monsters. Dipper didn't have to see her to know her hands were moving a mile a minute, as though her entire body had to talk with every word she said. "Did we ever see magic anywhere aside from Gravity Falls? Really see, and not 'I-think-I-saw-a-ghoul-but-it's-midnight-and-I'm-drunk'?"
Dipper flushed a brighter red and he glanced around. Mabel's voice was so loud, he was certain she could be heard in the next town over. Luckily, none of the other students paid him any mind, too busy trying to get from class to class to care about him. "That was one time."
"And every other time was just as sketchy!" Mabel argued with a huff. For once, she had a point. "Seriously, though, how is just one town such a hotbed for magic?" She chuckled. "Bet you'd love to write a paper on that."
Now it was Dipper's turn to laugh. He lowered his voice, trying for a mysterious husky that the women in his class seemed to like. "What makes you think I haven't?"
There was a pause on the other end before Mabel muttered, "I hope you're joking, or I'm really worried about your non-existent social life."
He flinched. There went his dreams of being enigmatic. Maybe he was wrong about the voice. Or maybe it just didn't work on Mabel. "Hey, I have one," Dipper protested, trying to keep the whine out of his voice.
"Your nerd clubs don't count." Mabel sighed. "And you don't even have me around to make sure you're cool."
"It's not like you're the expert of cool," Dipper grumbled, sulking. While Mabel was the social butterfly between the two, her sweaters had all but guaranteed that the popular kids had ignored her throughout high school. They were both dorky outcasts, albeit in different ways.
"Still cooler than you." Mabel hummed. He wondered what kind of sweater she was wearing now. Even the summer heat couldn't stop her from donning one. Maybe he should investigate her for magic. "Hey, wanna go back this summer?"
For the second time that day, Dipper stared blankly ahead as he tried to process her words. "Back?"
"To Gravity Falls!" Mabel chirped, her words spilling out of her faster and faster as her excitement grew. "The Grunkles said they'd be back in June!"
"They will?" Dipper shouted. Immediately, he covered his mouth, but it was too late. His fellow schoolmates gave him a curious look before ignoring him once more. Maybe he shouldn't have called Mabel while he was walking to class. At this rate, he was going to get a reputation.
"Yeah, said they're taking a land break." Mabel giggled, clearly amused. He hoped she wasn't laughing at him. "I wonder who got seasick. Or maybe they're becoming mermaids after being out there for so long."
"It's not like they were swimming the whole time," Dipper pointed out, though in all honesty, it's not like magic ever required logic to happen. Maybe just being on the water long enough was all it took to change.
"We could celebrate their birthday too." Mabel let out a happy hoot and he could hear her bounce. "They're what, 70 now? It'll be a lot of candles but I think we can do it."
"You don't have to put that many candles," Dipper vetoed, already picturing a cake full of holes. Seventy, huh? It was hard to think about just how old that was. His grunkles had always been old, it was part of the reason they were grunkles and not uncles. Still, when he was younger, they'd felt almost immortal. Even with the strange magic and danger and world-destroying evil monsters, it had felt like nothing could stop them.
Now that Dipper was an adult and knew a little too much about the aging process and a smattering of biology, he knew better.
And that knowledge did little to reassure him.
"You're overthinking again," Mabel said, cutting through his thoughts. Despite how nonsensical she was, her voice always had a sense of clarity and purpose, as though she could see something he couldn't.
In some ways, he was certain she could.
Dipper chuckled awkwardly, not bothering to deny it. Mabel spotted his lies easily these days. "How do you always know?"
"We're twins," she stated matter-of-factly, as though this were a law of the universe, codified in science. He could almost see her wagging her finger at him. "It's the twin connection. Twin ESP? Oh!" She clapped her hands together. "You know, maybe we're just made of magic."
Dipper snorted. That was exactly the kind of pick-me-up he needed to hear. "I don't feel that magical."
"That's cause you're overthinking things again. You're not looking at it the right way." Mabel hummed. He could hear cars in the background as Mabel threaded her way through New York City. It was a good thing the whole city was so busy; he couldn't imagine the looks she must have gotten talking like this on the subway earlier. "I mean, you never look at things the right way, but this time you're very wrong."
"Yes, yes, I'm always wrong and you're right." Dipper rolled his eyes. He stopped walking now and stretched his hand above him as he stared at the clear, blue sky. "So, how should I look at it?"
"The right way." Undaunted, she continued. Her words bumped into one another as she got invested in her new pet theory. "We are magic. You're magic. I said it, so it's true."
As usual, Mabel didn't make any sense. The tiny bud of hope he'd felt withered away. Dipper dragged a hand through his hair, his nails scratching his scalp. "I don't think it works that way."
"Of course it works that way." He could hear Mabel wave her hand dismissively. It was a miracle she hadn't hit another pedestrian as she spoke; with how animated her arms could get sometimes, Dipper had considered selling her to a power company. "It's magic, duh! It works anyway! No wonder you were having issues finding any. How would you find anything if you act like that? You have to believe in it."
Miffed, Dipper pointed out, "It's not like you found it either, Miss. High-And-Mighty."
"I can't find magical creatures," Mabel corrected. "I've always found magic."
He stared at his phone. Did he want to ask? Dipper could feel a headache forming. Even now, as adults, there were still times when he didn't quite know how to handle Mabel. Still, he'd be thinking about this all night if he kept quiet. With a sigh, he put it back to his ear. "There's a difference?"
"Yeah! Obviously!" Mabel snorted, her pig-like laughter crackling through the cellphone's speaker. "Magical creatures are like people. If they don't want to be found, you won't find them. Magic, though, is kinda a…hmmm…remember when we saw Peter Pan? You gotta believe in order to find it. It's really easy too."
"Is it now?" Dipper rubbed his forehead. He was definitely going to need Advil. "And what magic have you seen?"
"Well, that's—" Mabel gasped. "Oh, shit, I think my class is starting! Gotta go!"
Dipper shouted, "Wait, Mabel—"
"Love you!" And without another word, the dial tone returned as Mabel cut him off.
"Mabel!" he fruitlessly shouted again. Dipper grimaced as he hung up. Of course she left before saying the most important part. Of course she'd been vague and her instructions made no sense. Believe in magic? How? What would he see after?
No matter how much he mulled over it, it wouldn't make sense. Maybe he should just pack up and head to his own class.
Yet, Mabel never lied to him, not anymore. If she said she'd seen it, she'd seen it. Even if she was just mistaking something else for magic. Part of him wanted to believe. The world felt grey without the strange and wondrous.
God, he wished he had her confidence.
Dipper bit his lip. Maybe it wouldn't hurt this one time to listen to her. To just believe. He closed his eyes. Magic. Science. Paranormal. The weird. Remembering Gravity Falls, remembering that one magical, strange, weird summer, he opened his eyes.
Nothing happened. Nothing changed. Students passed by. The wind blew.
Dipper sighed. Of course it'd ended like this. He straightened up and shoved his phone in his pocket, ready to go. Just before he could take a step, a man walked past, his body lump, his steps uneven.
There was something familiar about his shape, his gait. A memory of three gnomes in a trench coat buzzed faintly in his mind. Of the first incident that had led him into an adventure he could never forget.
It was probably nothing. There were many scientific reasons for it: a man with a limp, two kids in a trenchcoat, a drunkard stumbling along the street. If Dipper reached out, if he tapped on his shoulder, he'd definitely be disappointed by the result.
It was better to go to class. He should just go to class. But—
Magic works only if you believe.
—for once, he hoped Mabel was right.
Pivoting on his heel, Dipper chased after the stranger. Maybe this summer really would be something special.