Ton of other stuff going on ATM and I don't have the available time to do prompts. Sorry everybody!
HOWEVER, as raincheck for this, there will be three, possibly four large normal-length multipart stories coming SOON once the new year dawns, including:
1) Signal (The final installment of mine for the Aftershocks AU)
2) The Mabel Spectrum Goes On Vacation (Based on the idea discussion on here a few months back)
3) The Horny Ghosts Ride Again (you all knew this one was coming ;) )
And depending on time and how I feel the outline is coming along, what I'm aiming to be as my largest or one of my largest stories yet: Trinity.
Feel free to shoot me questions in the meantime and I'll be more than happy to answer as quick as I can! Happy holidays!
So, story-wise I have one more prompt I have planned to write for this year; again, thank you everyone for the awesome and wonderful prompts!
Also, my apologies for the quality of the last couple prompt stories; I have been severely decaffeinated, which leads to me being half-awake as I write, and I think the last two stories in particular werenât finished in the way Iâd have wanted them to be.
As a result, Iâve reworked the endings of And A Happy New Year and Precious, so please be sure to give them another read-through and see if you like the new versions better. Keep an eye out tomorrow night for the last Pinesmas story before we usher in 2017!
âCome on, itâs Bigfoot! With proof! Along with photographic evidence that the Gobblewonker was a fake, translations from the caves surrounding Gravity Falls that detail a demonic presence, and even instructions for beating off gnomes!â
The bookkeeper made a face. âLook, kid, ignoring how that last one sounded, I just canât make fifteen-hundred just for a single journal, regardless of whatâs in it. I can give you seven hundred for it; sound good?â
Dipper felt like his soul was being tugged in half as he made the counteroffer. âA grand.â
The owner sighed. âFine. But just this once, kid,â he said as he began thumbing out a stack of bills. Dipper reverentially laid the stained and scratched composition-book journal on the counter, and couldnât help but sigh as he watched it be whisked away to be stuck into a locked drawer somewhere.
The owner caught his gaze of wistfullness. âSo, what are you planning on getting with all that then?â he asked, nodding towards the wadded fistfull of money. Dipper grinned.
âA triple-reinforced graphene cable, compatible with most major brands of pneumatic grappling hooks.â
The owner blinked, nonplussed, then shrugged and smiled. âWell, whoever is getting something like that must be worth it, huh?â
Dipper just nodded as he pocketed the money and stared off out the shop window to downtown Gravity Falls.
âYeah, she sure isâŠâ
Two weeks before Christmas...
âYou want to pawn off a what?â The biker stared incredulously over the desk at the girl in the sweater, as she gestured again in his general direction with the device. He kept wanting to duck, getting the vague feeling that an improbably large amount of energy was stored in such a small handheld tool.
âI said,â Mabel repeated, with more than a little annoyance in her voice, âthat this is a Stirling and Sons Triple-Climber Automatic Pneumatic Handheld Grappling Pistol, that itâs in like-new condition, and that itâs well worth a thousand bucks.â
The biker chuckled, trying not to let his spark of sudden worry show as he ducked his head to one side to avoid being directly in the pass of the grappling hook gun. âListen, missie, I can give you maybe five hundred tops for it. How does that sound.â
Mabelâs mind flicked back to the price in her mind, for the item on the custom-order marketplace, and the four-figure sum sheâd been quoted. âNo can do. A thousand.â
The biker sighed. âSix-fifty; best offer youâll get all day.â
She shook her head. âNope. One thousand.â
âEight hundred, final offer.â
Mabelâs solid stare caused him to chuckle again, this time with noticeably more nervousness than before. âLittle miss, I donât think you quite know how haggling works. Youâre supposed to change your mind and meet at a fair price.â
THe Pines girl didnât budge a muscle, but she did smirk a little and say in an even voice âWell, a thousand is a fair price for a piece of equipment thatâs three thousand new, and in any case youâre the one changing your mind on your price, not me.â
There was a prolonged moment as both parties weighed the other.
The biker broke first, sighing and looking away for a moment as he rubbed his neck. He knew heâd been beaten; this was hardly the first time heâd been outmatched, and he could tell that there was no way heâd be able to turn down such a unique find, and also no chance heâd be able to get her to budge within the decade.
As he started counting out the money after putting the grappling hook on top of the pile of pistols and knives in the counter, he asked conversationally âSo what is a little lady like you planning on doing with all this?â
Her mind raced back to the online creatorâs website, of the beautiful leatherwork they did, of the back-and-forth discussion theyâd had to get a quote, and of her sticker shock and reluctant acceptance of the hefty price tag sheâd been quoted for the beautiful blue star-and-constellation-inlaid leather journal cover.
âA gift for a good friend.â
The biker nodded, and asked no more.
Christmas Day...
It was supposed to be a day of surprises, and both twins had eagerly awaited to see what their sibling would think of the unbeatable gift they had planned. They had both opened their gifts, and while they did have stars in their eyes, they were intermingled with tears of confused joy and happy frustration.
âBut I sold my journal so you could get that cord youâd wanted for your grappling hook gun!â
âWell I sold the grappling hook to get you the cover from the designer youâd freaked out about last year.â
They hugged each other, chuckling and groaning as they clenched the gifts from each-other. The gifts were perfect, no denying it, and despite neither of them being able to actually use their new treasures, they were almost content enough to just know their twin knew them so well and cared enough about them to think of such a thoughtful present.
Then there was a tap on their shoulder as Grunkle Stan nudged them both with two last wrapped gifts.
âHere, kiddos. Think you might be able to use these right about now,â he said, smiling as he handed out the two packages. Grunkle Ford sat forward, intrigued and confused; he had helped his brother wrap all of the gifts last weekend, everything in the white-and-red-striped paper. Yet these gifts were in a black paper lined with squiggles of Christmas lights instead, and his eyes narrowed as he watched.
The younger Pines twins dried their tears as they pulled off wrapping paper, only to find-
âMy journal!â
âMy grappling hook!â
His face still incredulous, Dipper turned to the older man. âGrunkle Stan, how did you know?â Behind Stan, Ford rolled his eyes, folding his arms over his chest.
Oh, this ought to be good, he thought to himself with a bit of a huff.
Stan just snorted dismissively as he caught sight of his brotherâs disapproving glare. âSoon as you two were moping about, I knew something was up. Asked around town a bit, and I just-
Three days agoâŠ
Grunkle Stan towered over the biker, despite being two feet shorter than the hulking man. A finger spun a crowbar as easily as someone else might twirl a pencil, but this crowbar had a menacing array of scratches and colorful smears that indicated a colorful history, possibly as far as a self defense against extradimensional horrors.
âAnd so, again I remind you, that I am quickly running out of patience. Where. Is. It?â
The owner swallowed, weighing his options again, and knowing for the second time in as many weeks that he had been beaten. The first time, with the girl, it had felt like trying to duel someone who refused to pick up a weapon.
This time it felt like duelling someone while every instinct in your body screamed that you were facing someone who had trained for decades longer than you had, poisoned their blade, and carried a loaded pistol just in case.
Eyeing the heavy weight in Stanâs coat pocket, the biker realized that last part of the duelling metaphor might not be that much of a metaphor after all. There was a pointed finger, followed shortly thereafter by a tinkling of glass. The flutter of a stack of bills left on the glass that remained unbroken was a welcome surprise, even if the stack was a third of the size it should have been.
Christmas dayâŠ
â-made a few purchases-â
Three days agoâŠ
A light can be seen in a darkened office. The hooting of an owl and occasional passing car are still not loud enough to drown out the noise of rustling boxes and shuffling papers. There is a gentle metal set of clicks as lockpicks slide into a latch with practiced ease, then the smack of a desk drawer sliding out to hit into a palmed glove. Stanâs voice can be heard with a muttered âEureka!â, and the sound of something papery being stuffed into a bag.
A set of footprints with too-long of feet and too-few toes led into the nearby woods, and leading to a spike in both Mystery Shack customers as well as tour offers for the amateur cryptozoologist. When the dayâs accounts and donation envelopes had been tallied, including the single large lump sum stuffed into one of the smaller envelopes, he almost ended up making back the value of the misplaced journal.
Christmas Day:
-and here we are.â
Grunkle Stan avoided the disbelieving look from his brother, glowering in his easy chair, but did have the decency to swallow in embarrassment when his gaze drifted meaningfully over to the two wooden footprint-makers covered in snowy mud in the corner by the hat stand. Stan scooped the twins onto his shoulders.
Mabel laughed as she cried out the line, echoing through the cramped and otherwise-empty Mystery Shack:
âMerry Christmas, one and all!â
Outside, peeking in through an unfrosted edge of the otherwise-opaque window, a shaggy and hulking shape smiles at the happy faces inside. With feet that seemed much too long and with far too few toes, the creature stomped off into the underbrush, and vanished from sight.
Prompt from an Anon: gift of the magi with mabel and dipper, 3rd person's gifts to them are their traded for possessions, because they were such obvious dorks
While technically they had family around for the last three days, it hadnât hit Dipper until he put their names in for the Christmas gift exchange.
âDIpper! Honey, you put your sister and you in the wrong jar! That was the âCouple'sâ jar,â their mom had said with a smile.
âOh, right. My bad!â he had replies, palms sweating as he realized what his mistake could have done.
He had taken his mug of spiced mead, sitting on the back porch and watching the reflections of the blinking lights reflected against the mottled and patterned glass of the kitchen window. Partly he watched to try and let his mind go blank, even as the rest of him tried to analyze and figure out a solution to the problem.
The result was a jumble, a veritable train-wreck of internal attempts to find calm and center on nothing at all as he simultaneously tried to guess and determine all likely scenarios of their relationship, and how others might react.
Calm Maybe they might ship us off to other sides of the country calm or what about just shipping one of us off and leaving the other here with them calm they might send us to live with the Grunkles calm but not together at least if they knew how we felt about each-other calm but oh god what about legality calm could we be looking at jail instead? Calm the only thing worse calm than us alone on other sides calm of the entire country would calm be us across the country calm in prison calm calm calm-
âWhatcha up to, brobro?â
Mabelâs voice snapped him back to reality as she came across him in the midst of thought. She sat next to him on the rocking swing on the porch, as close as possible without being too close if anyone peeked out a window and saw them. More than anything, Dipper wanted to put his arm around her, hug her close, kiss her cheek and see the twinkle of her eyes under those brown bangs he loved so much.
Damn it. Caution to the wind and all, he muttered to his internal warning monologue, and he reached up and brushed her cheek with his hand, his thumb rubbing along her cheek as he smiled tenderly at her. She looked back in surprise, followed shortly by an equal and appreciative smile, before it quickly shifted to a furrow of concern. Her hand had been on his, caressing it in response, but now it quickly dropped, pulling his hand with hers to drop down into his lap as she released him.
Without turning, Dipper could hear the sliding glass door rumble open, their dadâs voice immediately audible as the conversation and laughter from inside filtered out. He mentioned a brief greeting to the twins, before continuing on his borderline-bragging to his brother, their uncle, and their uncle-in-law as well, about the barbeque he got as an early Christmas gift.
As his voice droned on, Mabel reached over to where his hand had fallen, giving it a little squeeze and smile of encouragement. Dipper smiled and tried to inject honesty into the grin, but it just wasnât there, and he could see that Mabel could tell. The squeeze tightened, and the intensity of Mabelâs smile dropped a notch, but stills he held his hand, only breaking away when their father and his rapt attendees came away from the barbeque and started to look over at the closed hot tub.
She stood, her hand lingering on his long enough to distinctly tug his hand, before dropping away. His sister gave Dipper a smile, nodding her head in a follow-me gesture as she headed back into the house. He obeyed, leaving their father behind on the porch with some of their guests as the twins went back inside.
Within, the house smelled of roasted and sugar-coated nuts, of cinnamon and spiced meat and most of all of holly and pine. The tree was artificial, as it had been for almost the entire last decade, but their mother had insisted on loading the living room with automatic plug-in air fresheners that loaded the scent of the false tree to such a degree that it threatened to overwhelm even the fresh-baked scents wafting in from the kitchen.
The living room had their grandfather and grandmother from their momâs side; their grandpa and the Grunkles from their dadâs side were unable to attend this year. Regaling them with a story of the trials and tribulations of a computer programmer was their cousin Cindy, and Dipper followed Mabel down the side of the living room and into a hall adjacent to the kitchen.
Within the kitchen were the remaining aunts, uncles, and their mother, like the star that all the planets rotated around. The evening Christmas Feast was being prepared, a grand undertaking that rivalled only Thanksgiving in scope and fare; Dipper much preferred Christmas, as there was more candy and less stuffing.
Still, though, the thought stung him. For Thanksgiving at least, when their parents had asked what they were thankful for, they had been unable to see the hidden hands under the tablecloth, holding each-otherâs hands as the looked at their partner twin and said âIâm thankful for my sibling.â
For Thanksgiving, at least, they had been able to sneak away after dinner with the remaining bottle of champagne when their dad left for his weekly Thursday poker game. They had snuck it to Mabelâs room, and from there to the flat spot on the roof they werenât supposed to go up on but still did anyways, watching shooting stars overhead.
For Thanksgiving, at least, the chances for privacy were constant, while here, with so many people, they were fleeting and far between. Even as they ducked into the hallway, even as Mabelâs leading hand suddenly became a pair of lips locked on his, it felt hollow.
The kiss was broken, the siblings separated again to a chaste distance when the keywords âto the bathroomâ were uttered aloud. The aunt that spoke them passed, and again her hand sought his.
âDip, it will be okay. One day, we wonât have to do this.â
He closed his eyes, scrunched tight, wishing he could believe her. He tried to avoid hysteria as he replied, well aware of how raw his feelings were on the matter even now.
âMaybe. Hopefully.â His eyes met hers. âBut what if we do? What if our life-if us-â he cut off as the aunt returned, passing by them again as she returned to the kitchen. âIf we were like this forever because weâre siblings?â
Mabelâs eyes went wide, but she shook her head, her lips in a firm, determined smile. She was always tougher than Dipper when it came to convictions, unwavering, almost never flagging in her beliefs. In a lot of other things,s he would come to DIpper for advice, for support, but when it came to their relationship, Dipper always felt like he was trying to build a castle on quicksand, while his sister saw their love as something built on nothing but solid bedrock.
She grabbed his hand, leading him to the living room, passing their grandparents who had gotten up to join the rest if the family in singing a few traditional songs. Staring up at the bedecked tree, she stood behind him, head on his shoulder as her fingers intertwined with his.
There was a long and lovely time that they stayed like that, as the rest of the family bounced from a punch bowl to a can of homemade peanut brittle, to a jar of freshly-cut fudge that was enjoyed with gummed-shut mouths. Nobody paid the twins any heed, looking for all the world like two siblings simply taking a break from the holiday madness, and just enjoying the beauty of the tree and each-otherâs company for a time.
Indeed, thatâs exactly what they were doing.
As the first song began and a dozen voices joined in ragged and slightly-drunken unison, his sister spoke in a low voice, turning to him with a loving smile in her eyes:
âListen, Dip. Someday weâll have our own place, be with friends and family who support us as us, and have all of the stuff we want, all of the happiness we deserve.â He could feel a knot form in his throat as she squeezed his hand in reassurance. âAnd to be honest with you? Our life wonât be perfect. There will be things that suck, that hurt us, that are unexpected and painful. But-â and she ran a finger for a fleeting moment along his chin before patting him chastely on the back with that same hand, â-those things will happen anyways. Thatâs life, and it will always be a storm, whether the waves are ten feet high or a hundred.â
There was a peal of laughter from the kitchen, and excited giggling from the cousins who had assembled to play some sort of card game at the dining room table. His sister pulled on his hand, turning him to face her even as his vision began to blur.
âAnd when you have doubts, when you start to worry about us and the future, just remember that Iâll always be there by your side, and weâll face whatever life can throw at us in stride, hand in hand. Weâll brave the storm, ride the waves, bail out whatever water splashes over and sail onwards into the new morning.â
Dipper could tell he was crying a little; not enough that those folks in the dining room would be able to see, but definitely enough that Mabel spotted the silver trickle. She kissed him on the tear trail, and Dipper could see that she had an identical trail on her face he kissed away too, thankful that the kids at the table were oblivious and that the adults were busy with songs and drinks in the other room.
âI love you, Mabel Pines.â
She grinned, and kissed him briefly but with a cinder of passion on his lips.
âI love you too, Dipper Pines,â she said with an edge of a giggle.
She gave his hand a squeeze as the latest song faded from the kitchen. Dipper turned, her hand still held firmly between their bodies, hiding it as being anything other than a chaste hug between siblings rather than a sign of comfort between partners.
Dipper sighed deeply, feeling stress heâd been holding for weeks, months, melt away like fresh snow. His sisterâs words had calmed him to a degree that his own personal meditation had been unable to accomplish, and her logic of support was undetailed but carried an underlying current of truth.
No matter what happened, theyâd be there for each other. And that was all they really needed, in the end. Every doubt, every worry Dipper had, always faded when he remembered that the trials and troubles they faced ahead would be faced together.
As the voices from the kitchen began again, he could feel his raging mind and heart were finally at peace. Squeezing her hand and giving her a quick and daring kiss on the cheek, Dipper began to sing along, and Mabel joined in with him as the entire Pines family raised their voices in song.
âSilent night, holy nightâŠ.â
From an Anon: wreaths you lovely darling!! do you think you could write me something that involves the twins having a hard time hiding their relationship while surrounded with extended family for the holidays? thank you so much in advance!!! <3
Mabel had been so busy getting ready for helping Dipper pack and leave his dorm for the holidays that she had completely forgotten to do her shopping. Dipper was leaning back, taking a break from loading boxes as he chuckled.
âMabes, we can stop by somewhere on the way out of town, get what you need there. What were you making anyhow?â
Mabel stopped pacing, took a deep breath, and said âMy banana bread. If we were heading home it wouldnât be a problem; short of bananas themselves, mom has great stocks of everything in the cupboards. But since weâre going to the Shack, our Grunkles, wellâŠâ
She let the words hang, and Dipper nodded in agreement. Stan and Ford had an approach to cooking and eating that could politely be called âuniqueâ and impolitely called âincredibly inconsistent and borderline illogical.â He had seen Stan cook everything from eggs and toast to something unspeakable that used, as he described it, âA few odds and ends from a Russian fishing buddy who owed me some dough.â The twins had escaped and ordered some pizza, giving a few pity slices to Ford as his years of extradimensional foraging for survival failed him in the face of a bowl of grey almost-stew.
Mabel sighed, and went back to helping Dipper pack the last few boxes. âWell, I suppose getting the supplies wonât take too long.â She glanced at her brotherâs mini-fridge. âHey brobro, do you have any supplies I can steal from there?â
He shrugged. âKnock yourself out,â and took the last set of boxes out towards the dorm elevator. Cracking open the fridge, Mabel rifled through a few almost-empty bags of buns and bread loaf ends, finding nothing of use. She was about to give up in frustration when she found a ziploc baggy in the freezer drawer labeled âBUTTERâ in a handwriting she didnât recognize. It looked like it had melted, but someone had poured it into the bag to solidify.
Mabel shrugged. Butter was butter regardless of shape, and this looked like enough to cover the multiple sticks she needed for a large pan of her bread. She pulled out the bag, grabbed Dipperâs last suitcase and his keys, before leaving the dorm and locking the door behind her.
A few minutes later, a key entered the lock, and the door swung open as Dipperâs roommate entered, carrying a stack of boxes in front of his chest. âHey Dipper, I just wanted to let you know I left-â He stopped as he saw the empty room, and deposited the boxes on his bed. Pulling off the business jacket, he made a beeline for the mini-fridge, checking the freezer drawer and sighing with relief.
âAh, whew, he found it.â Grinning, he sat back on the bed, pulling out a vape stick and taking a pull as he did. âMan, Dipâs going to have a hell of a holiday.â
Meanwhile, Mabel was wagging a finger under her brotherâs nose.
âNope, mister, you stay in the car! Iâll just be a few minutes.â
Dipperâs forehead creased in confusion. âMabels, if thereâs a lot of stuff to carry, I could help. Why donât you want me to-â He cut off as she ducked in front of him, wiggling her outstretched fingers and murmuring âSeeeecreeeetsâŠâ
Snorting, Dipper shrugged, and Mabel bounced off into the store as he pulled out his phone and began browsing.
She quickly found her supplies for the banana bread, but then came the second half of her trip. The half that was her reason for insisting Dipper stayed out in the car.
It was almost a mantra, as she visited the aisle for alcohol she was finally able to purchase outright rather than âborrowâ from their Grunkles, a rainbow of energy drinks, a few trips down the over-the-counter medicines aisle for a few specific boxes, a single item from the cleaning supplies aisle, and finally a packet of food-safe glitter and a bagged set of small, colorful plastic dinosaurs.
On top of that she threw a trio of jugs of âBlind Hobo Eggnog,â a particularly strong-flavored brand sheâd discovered last year and experimented slightly with.
Everything purchased, she deposited them in the trunk, ignored the questioning looks from her twin, and gunned the motor towards the highway north.
âKids!â
âGrunkles!â
Hugs were exchanged, and Stan and Ford both insisted on helping unload the car. Mabel made a trip by herself to deposit the groceries and bag of butter into the kitchen, placing them out of immediate line-of-sight of the hallway. As they were almost finished taking boxes and suitcases up, Mabel offered to start cooking her banana bread, and encountered no objections.
Of course, as soon as she had a bowl filled with some flour and placed in a conspicuously visible spot, she had retrieved a large plastic bucket from under the sink, and washed it in the sink with vigorous scrubbing.
Theoretically what she was about to put into it would sterilize it of any and all germs, but it didnât hurt to be safe.
From there, the Pines twin began pouring in cans and snifters of energy drinks and alcohol, carefully measuring out specific amounts and in some cases pouring them through metal scrub-pads she got that were usually used for cleaning pots. Ingredients mixed, tinging the nose, and finally the punch bowl was about half-full. Mabel added the cartons of eggnog, the yellow-beige liquid quickly absorbing and concealing the vibrant pink-red color of the brew she had made in the bowl before.
Lastly, she added a pinch of glitter and a single dinosaur to the concoction. Mixing thoroughly, the glitter likewise disappeared, and the dinosaur slowly sank out of sight. She was trying to be sneaky, but Mabel felt that there were just some elements you just shouldnât compromise on.
âNogâs up!â she called, and received a bevvy of appreciative noises from the Grunkles and Dipper. The doorbell rang, and a distant âDoods!â could be heard as Soos arrived as well. She pulled out glasses to go with the bowl of nog, and returned to finish making the bread. Soon, she was joining the other with carols, laughter, stories, and plenty of drinking from the punchbowl. Mabel was careful to sip in moderation, but as she watched the smell of bananas wafted into the living room, along with a tinge of a skunky aroma.
Soos leaned up from where he was trying to lick his elbow, and sniffed the air like a gopher. âUh, doods? Is something, like, burning or something?â
Wrinkling her nose, Mabel swore under her breath and sprinted to the kitchen. When she whipped out the bread, though, it looked perfectly fine, and the aroma was heavenly, even if it did have a bit of a foul smell a an afterthought.
She shrugged, and began cutting the loaf into little slices and arranging them on a plate. Bringing the array of bread out next to the bowl, she announced âSnacks are served!â, and brought a slice over for her Grunkles and Dipper to try.
Dipperâs eyes went wide at the smell, and then he frowned slightly.âMabes, um, did you add anything, uh, extra to this?â
She froze, mind racing as it panicked thinking he was about to ask her about the eggnog. Instead she shook her head. âNope. Why?â
Dipper just looked at the piece for a long moment before finishing it off. âOh, uh, no reason. Just thought I tasted something.â
Grunkle Stan, sitting in his recliner, had the corner of his mouth up in a smile. âHere, Mabel honey, let me see a slice of that stuff. Smells great, kiddo.â
He took it, and began smelling it like it w as a fine wine, swirling it around a little bit on the palm of his hand, before murmuring his appreciation.
âDamn fine stuff. Paraguay, if Iâm not mistaken. Iâd recognize that anywhere.â He grinned, and took a hearty bite out of slice of bread, devouring it in a few bites. Mabel just cocked her head.
âGrunkle Stan, what do you mean? The bananas are from Paraguay?â
He snorted. âHow should I know? Nah, itâs the, uh, special ingredient Iâm talking aboutâ he said, waggling his fingers in exaggerated air quotes.
Mabelâs uncomprehending face caused him to just lean back. âListen, kid, trust me on this. If I can tell you spiked the eggnog, I can tell you spiked the bread too.â
Mabelâs grin had quickly faded to a tight-lipped look of alarm as Dipper sputtered, mid-drink, and turned to his sister. She could still see the nogstache on his upper lip and an errant crumb of cake at the corner of his mouth.
âMabelâŠâ he said, drawing out the word. âWhat did you put in the eggnog and banana bread?â
She shrugged helplessly. âI donât know! I didnât put anything in the banana bread other than the stuff you use to make banana bread!â She hoped Dipper wouldnât notice her omission.
Dipper noticed.
âAnd the eggnog?â he said, his voice holding an edge of accusation.
She had to come clean. âUh, itâs actually about fifty percent Mabel Juice.â
Dipper groaned, carefully setting the half-full cup of eggnog down as if it might detonate at any moment. Eyes shut, he said âWhat version of the Juice?â
âTwo.â
Dipper groaned again, this time in a slightly higher pitch, and with a careful finger he nudged the glass away by a further few inches. Mabelâs turned to Grunkle Stan.
âWell, you seem to know what I must have added, Mr. Paraguay!â she said in the most accusing tone she could muster. âWhat was it?â
Grunkle Stan laughed, slapping his knee, before turning to look at his watch.
âEh, I figure you guys will find out in about, oh, half an hour or so.
Soos looked up, mouth still full from the six slices of banana bread as he asked in a muffled voice âFind out what?â
âSo Sheriff, what do you suppose happened?â Deputy Derland lifted up an overturned and empty bowl, the white residue of eggnog still staining the inside. Letting go, the bowl flopped back onto Soosâ stomach as he groaned and rolled around a little while half-conscious. Blubbs was just standing next to the couch and the sleeping occupants on it, chuckling. Theyâd gotten a noise complaint but it had been a few hours back, and now the house was dead quiet.
Apart from the snoring, and Soosâ delirious mutterings.
Stan Pines came around a corner, chipper and alert, with a huge grin on his face. It grew slightly as he caught sight of the two policemen, and he approached them with wide arms. âAh, officers! Anything I can help you with?â
Blubbs mentioned the noise complaints, and Stan waved it away with a chuckle. âAh, there was some cheering, but I got it all settled. Donât worry about it!â Seeing the two police suitably mollified, he gave them a wink, mentioned something about a bowling appointment, and ducked out of the door before Derland could ask him what, exactly, had just happened.
âYou know, we could ask these folks, but they look plum tuckered out after this here party.â He smiled, looking down on Dipper and Mabel, both snoring as they laid on the couch. Both shirts were missing: Dipperâs was in a heap on the far side of the room, while Mabelâs had been stretched over a lampshade and was now helping shed baby-blue light into that corner of the Shack.
Derland grinned. âAw shucks, theyâre so peaceful!â Waddling over to the table, he dipped a pinkie into the half-empty cup of eggnog, tasting it and letting out a whoop. âWhoo-ee, Sheriff, this nog stuff packs a wallop! You suppose we might be able to have an eggnog party back at the office tonight, Sheriff Blubbs?â
Blubbs just chuckled, squeezing the hand of his deputy. âI just imagine we might, Deputy. I just imagine we might.â Derland let out another whoop of excitement, and sprinted out the door to start the car. Blubbs gave them another chuckle and grin as he quietly shut the door behind him as he left.
On the couch, the twins shifted in their sleep, and Dipperâs hand slid up to run along Mabelâs back as her hand stroked the stubbly edge of his jaw. Unbeknownst to either of them, their thoughts at the moment were identical.
This is probably a dream. But while it lasts, this is a really, really good dream.
Two prompts inspired this story:
1) Mabel spikes the eggnog at the Mystery Shack Christmas party.
2)I had a thought that mught be fun. Dipper has a stoner college friend that gives him a bunch of cannabutter, mabel accidentslly uses it for holiday banana bread and shares it with dip. Chaos ensues. -totally not Pan
Tis the season! Please send me any pinecest or just general holiday Gravity Falls prompts you'd like to see me write a short story for. The prompts will be open only for about 24 hours, so make sure to tell your friends and get your prompts in sooner rather than later! Feel free to submit prompts that are innocent, NSFW, or anything in between. After the prompts close, I'll start writing for the prompts. In the past I've shot for about 7-12 fulfilled prompts usually hitting around 10 or so. Of your prompt didn't get selected, don't despair! I'll be doing more prompt writing for Angstmas on April 15th and Smutmas on August 15th. Thanks, and I can't wait to see your prompts!
Just to remind anyone who might be interested, I'll be accepting prompts for Pinesmas 2016 starting on December 15th! Prompt submission will be open for just 24 hours, so be sure to get your winter and/or holiday themed prompts in before submissions close!
From an Anon: âCan you do aa kind of sequel to "Aisle of the near door" or prequel to "Very Happy 60th" for Pinesmas? Something like the first cristhmas with the twins married or with kids?â
âFinally got him sleeping, Dip?â
Mabelâs voice was weary, tired from half a year of duelling against their son, as he screamed and kicked and refused every attempt to go to bed at a reasonable hour. Tyrone certainly had inherited his sisterâs rebellious streak, and after the fiasco heâd had to clean up this afternoon with the christmas cookie batter and Dipperâs fountain pen, it looked like heâd inherited his dadâs knack for destructive curiosity as well.
He nodded, cupping a hand to brush the little floof of hair on the sleeping infant, watching his chest rise and fall and his leg wiggle as something in the dream prompted him to kick out. Dipper felt like he could sit here forever, being a sentinel for his little boy, but at the same time the bone-deep ache and exhaustion from the day was creeping up on the back of his mind like a wave. Better to get some rest now, and avoid collapsing in exhaustion in another half-hour of wakefulness.
Ty was starting to sleep more reliably through the night, but when heâd napped for a bit too long while they were remaking the cookies this afternoon, there was the very real risk of a cranky scream echoing through their apartment at the buttcrack of dawn or earlier and zombifying Dipper and Mabel into a semblance of attentiveness.
Mabel was watching him from the open doorway, and Dipper carefully got up, stepped over the incredibly squeaky teething ring and fuzzy ratty dog toy Mabel had passed on to him. He wrapped an arm around her, giving her a smooch before half-faking a collapse of exhaustion against the wall of the hallway. She gave him a mischievous smile, and with a bit of a teasing voice, she said âTurns out the cookies from this afternoon werenât a complete loss!â
Remembering the veritable puddle of blue ink and the unappetizing blue it had dyed the shortbread mix to, he cocked his head in confusion. Grinning, Mabel presented the fountain pen with a flourish, and Dipper let out a little excited gasp. It, along with a long-since-filled hardbound journal, had been a surreptitious wedding gift from Ford f;or him. Their parents were still fairly...raw about their âunnatural and sinful relationship,â and Dipper was fairly sure the Christmas letter Mabel had just mailed out yesterday would find its way directly into the trash, as the one sheâd sent last year and the year before probably did as well. Still, he was glad she wasnât giving up hope, and her optimism was a bit infectious for him as well although he wasnât sure he could admit to saying so out loud.
The pen was clean, sparklingly so, and Dipper could see that the nib was free of the frosted dough that had clogged it this afternoon, seemingly beyond all hope of repair. Mabelâs hands were ink-stained, but her grin was tired yet triumphant. Dipper gave her a little excited kiss, before setting the pen on a very high shelf before turning to twirl her and pull her into a deeper, far more passionate kiss than theyâd exchanged a moment ago. The twins both giggled, and Dipper could see her shoulders sag with the exhaustion he too felt.
Then she patted his but, giving him a grin as she said âAfraid Iâm a bit tuckered out from the little one for some more roughhousing with his dad tonight,â she said with a wink and a poked-out tongue, and Dipper gave a rueful chuckle as she continued. âStill, thatâs not to say I wouldnât be up for some shenanigans with âLittle Dipperâ tomorrow, after we get some much-deserved sleep,â and Dipper smiled, his spirits lifting a little even as he groaned at her pet nickname she knew he thought sounded ridiculous.
âCâmere. I want to enjoy this for a moment.â She grabbed his hand, dragging him after her into the living room. There, a little pine tree sat bedecked in cheap, sparkly tinsel, glowing lights, and a scant handful of blown-glass ornaments. Dipper grinned as he saw it, illuminating the otherwise-dark corner of their modest living room, with a dozen or so gifts crammed underneath where space permitted them.
He hugged Mabel close, feeling and hearing her sigh happily, and he gave her a kiss on her head as she leaned on his shoulder. With a quiet giggle, she looked over at the glowing clock displaying a few minutes after midnight, and said âMerry Christmas, Sir Dippingsauce.â
He grinned in the darkness, kissing her again on the forehead before gently turning her to look in her eyes as he said âMerry Christmas, Lady Mabelton.â He touched his forehead to hers, leaning his lips downwards to meet hers as-
-A screaming wail started up, barely a few seconds of rising fussing to give warning before the cries began to poke straight through Dipperâs ears to grate directly against the base of his spine. They both sighed in frustration and mild amusement, and Dipper gave her a brief kiss on the forehead. She followed him to Tyâs room, squeezing his shoulder briefly before going to their bedroom to probably crash into bed and fall asleep.
Dipper scooped up Ty, already cooing and singing a wordless tune under his breath as the fussing cries slowed. Finally, as the cries faded into burbled giggles and after a painfully long time shifted to gentle quietly-grunting snoring breaths, Dipper laid him back in the crib. As his son gurgled and shifted bonelessly in his hands, he leaned close, kissing him on his soft, warm forehead as he said âMerry Christmas, Captain Tyger.â The he smiled, stood, gave him one last look from the bedroom doorway, and shut off the light.
