Nour's Creative Corner

A story inspired by this post by @softersynths I hope you enjoy it!

(also on ao3!)

Limp legs swung in the air. Suspended by a rope that groaned with each swing. Clothes tattered to a thread. Bone visible despite the present belly. Eyelid shut yet the reflection of his face still haunted Stanford as he stood in the doorway. He had reached for his brother to help him deal with Bill. It had been years, but grasping for the last straw he had left, the older twin had hoped this would succeed. That the man he once trusted unconditionally would redeem himself for faults of the past. Holding on the cold door handle, Stanford’s hand twitched.

Stan Pines was dead.

Stanford couldn’t deny this fact. He had observed it himself. He only wished he knew the source. Had it been Bill? Had that accursed demon possessed him when Stanley had arrived and pushed him to the end of his life? His hand twitched. The cold metal against his fingers made him shudder. Rubbing his eyes from under his glasses, Stanford tried to will himself to be awake for longer. When he pulled his hand back and readjusted his glasses, he didn’t understand what he saw. 

The room that felt cold and dark was empty. 

No swinging legs. No groaning rope. Just a mess that was meant to be cleaned months ago before something distracted the researcher. His fingers twitched. He knew his brother was dead. He saw his body. But where? Pacing through the house, Stanford paused when he saw a red car from long ago parked outside his house in the snow. 

Trudging out, Stanford appraised the empty vehicle. The windows were freezing over. Almost enough to hide the seats and floor that were covered in food wrappers, old clothes and blankets. The doors were locked, keys nowhere to be found. From his position by the driver’s side, Stanford could see that the trunk was not closed properly. A memory of the trunk door resting more flatly flashed in his mind. Contradicting what he saw between the falling snow.

Reaching for the handle, Stanford fumbled against the cold metal. With five shivering fingers, he pulled the latch. The trunk opened easily. Revealing a cold corpse in a rood jacket. Skin blue, and eyes frosted closed, hands tied behind his back, ankles tied together.a cloth around his neck. A broken piece of the trunk lining stuck out between the blue lips. Holding up the trunk, Ford’s fingers twitched.

Stan Pines was dead.

He wasn’t sure when he walked back into his house. He only realised his surroundings when he stood in front of his landline phone. The dust covered receiver beeping into his ear in one hand. In the other, held in four fingers, was a hastily written note of an address in town. The phone call was asking him to identify a body in town. 

Pulling on a coat, Stanford forced his hands into his pockets. Loathed to stay in the echoing corridors of his home. Stanford let his mind fade away into the snow until he found himself standing outside a chain link fence. Slumped face-down in the snow was a man in a red jacket. Surrounded by a pool of dark red snow, Stanford recognised the brown curls that his mother would compliment him on. A gun had tangled into the fence before him. Numbness unrelated to the cold weather flashed through him. His fingers twitched.

Looking at the note, Stanford read the address once more and bit his lip. The white snowy ground before him was ignored as he made his way towards the coroner’s office. Colder Than the snow, Stanford numbly let the coroner walk him towards the table where he saw his twin laying. Eyes closed. Tag on toe. Clothes replaced with scrubs. With three fingers he reached for the side of the table. At once the face of his brother swirled into the face of a stranger he never met. The coroner’s voice sounded angry as they physically dragged him away from the cold metal table. Ford’s fingers twitched.

Back at home, Stanford opened the door to his study. Laying, slumped against the wall, leaving a bloody trail was the same man in a red jacket with matching features to the suffering researcher. His face scared from something piercing his eye. Hardly familiar with the twisted look of agony as the last moments were torn out of his head with a lead bullet. Holding on to the door Stanford’s two fingers twitched.

Stan Pines was dead.

Stanford knew that. He had watched it happen first hand. The man he trusted more than anyone in the world had fallen. Wasted from famine. But he was shot. Frozen to death. But he was murdered. Stanford knew his brother was dead. 

“Did you forget how it happened?”

A voice mocked.

Looking down with horror. Stanford pines was met with the sight of his brother. Crossbow bolt sticking out of his chest. Skin dead white. Smirk just as smug.

Stanley Pines was dead. 

"Hello to you too, Pa." Rosie said, her words were as bitter as her expression.

"Rosie I-"

"Cannit." She interrupted.

Stan, Dipper and Soos remained silent, the tension of the room too tense for any of them to make a move.

"Auntie Rosie is that-" Mabel looked between the disheveled man that stumbled through the broken portal and her usually gentle aunt.

"Not now sweetie, I've somethin' important to deal with right now." Rosie said, she gave Mabel as best of a calm smile as she could before turning back to Stanford, her expression falling the instant her eyes left Mabel.

"Please, darling, I know I was wrong I'm so-"

"Don't you try to apologise Mister." She spat. cutting down her father's words with her stare. "30 years. 30 long long years yer brother an' I toiled at this blasted machine trying to get you back. I told 'im it weren't worth it. I told 'im you got what you deserved. but he didn't listen. I couldn't watch Uncle Stan throw his life away workin' on this accursed portal. He didn' deserve that. but he was stubborn. Too bullheaded to listen to reason. Just like you."

"Rosie-"

"You hold your tongue. you don' get to call me that anymore. not after you ruined my life!" Rosie stamped her foot. her voice rang through the portal chamber.

Stanford held his tongue.

"Ya notice anyone missin' here Stanford? Anyone you promised to support through sickness and health? You didn't did you? Just like ya did back then too. I had ta watch pa lose his mind and become worse and worse till he couldn't recognise me no more. Do ya know what that's like? Goin' to visit a man who held me when i was afraid, only for him to chase me out of his shoe box shanty 'cause he don' recognise me?" Rosie cried. he glasses began to fog from her tears, her cheeks burned red as she spoke.

"I- i didn't know." Stanford said in a small voice. his shoulder hunched as He tried to meet his daughter's gaze, but she refused to grant him that luxury.

"Ya didn't know 'cause ya didn't wanna know! We were working swell. ya both had amazin' jobs but ya threw it all away and for what? so that some demon could promise you the moon and stars? Was Pa not enough? Was I not enough?" She choked out between tears.

She fell to her knees. tears flowing freely as a damn built over 40 years finally broke. after so long she had finally reunited with her father. she had wanted to be happy, she had wanted to rebuild what she lost. But seeing the face of the man who had thrown everything away dashed those dreams in an instant.

Stanford stood silently, his gaze cast down in shame. He reached his hand out to Rosie, but he could hardly recognise her. He watched as Stan walked up beside her and laid a hand on her shoulder to comfort her. She instantly pulled him down into a hug, crying into his shoulder. The sight of his daughter crying Stan's arms cut ford deep. it should have been him that was comforting her, not Stan. him and fiddleford. But he watched As the two children and the strange gopher walked to her side and embraced her in a family hug. Just like he and Fiddleford used to give her when she was awoke from a fearful dream.

Standing on the far side of the cold portal room. Stanford realized that despite escaping Bill's domain, he had yet to truly awake from his nightmare.

----

art by @stephreynaart

The third chapter of my fic based off of @reaganwarren's red hood better world au. Mabel is brought to the ship at Dipper's insistence, but random crashed ships are often what police are called for. Perhaps this was just a short chapter in their lives. Or did someone sneak something home? (also on ao3!)

“This sure is a shipwreck,” Mabel said. Dipper had dragged her down the beach, she hardly had time to explain to their parents where they were going. She looked around the mouldy wood and held her nose. “Did it always smell like this or was it only after you got in here?”

‘Honestly Dipper could be so silly sometimes.’ She thought, shaking her head.

There wasn’t much to the ship, no matter how haunted Dipper made it sound. Old furniture, broken glass and a mess of ropes and papers decorated what was once a proud sailing vessel. Mabel was sure that she wanted nothing to do with the ship, it felt like anything she touched would have crumbled to dust in her hands. And not in a fun way like those balloons that were filled with glitter.

Unforutanly, the pair of almost teens exploration was cut short when their parents pulled them out of the beached shipwreck. Saying something about ‘dangerous spaces’ and how ‘they were being reckless.’ The twins couldn’t get a word in when all four Pines heard the sound of something rattle. The sound was unsettling, as it echoed through the cabin. Turning their heads, the four caught sight of bones, next to a picked clean human skull.

The twins didn’t get home until really late that night. 

“Who knew police questioning could take so long?” Mabel’s voice was muffled by her pillow. She rolled over onto her back. “But hey, now that all that hooey is over, you ready to be king and queen of middle school?”

“More like jester and scholar.” Dipper rolled his eyes.

“C’mon Dip, this is going to be our last year of middle school. We gotta take any advantage we can get!” Mabel jumped up and pulled her brother into a side hug. “Just imagine it. Cutting in line at the cafeteria, borrowing unlimited books from the library, we’ll even get that private senior lawn!”

“Okay okay, maybe there will be some good things to look forward to.” Dipper pushed his sister away with a chuckle. “But that doesn’t stop Carl Spencerson from being a jerk.”

“Think of it like this: Just one more year and then you’re free of him.” Mabel clapped her hands together before slowly spreading them apart. “Like a nerdy butterfly, you just need to stay in your cocoon for a little while longer.” 

Dipper sighed and pulled himself into bed. He retrieved the leatherbound book he had found on the shipwreck from under his pillow.

“Isn’t that the creepy book you found in that creepier ship?” Mabel asked. She had hoped back into her bed. “I thought the police took everything.”

“I - uh, you gotta promise not to tell mum or dad alright?” Dipper looked at the door to their room nervously.

“I mean,” Mabel looked at her brother’s nervous expression before offering him a beaming grin. “Sure! How did you hide it?”

“I uh, slid it under the party table when mum and dad took us back before calling the police.” Dipper said. “I also hid this there as well.” he lifted up the old red hoodie.

“Ew! Dipper that thing stinks.” Mabel held her nose. “Why did you even hide a jacket? I get the book but what’s the deal there?”

“I don’t know. That’s the thing. When mum and dad said they were calling the police I felt this chill down my back. I knew they wouldn’t let me keep the book. I wanted to find out what it was doing in that ship wreck but if the police took the journal, there’d be no way to figure it out. So I kicked these under the snack table until we packed everything up after the police questioning.” Dipper said. 

“Huh.” Mabel tapped her chin.

“You’re not going to tell them right?” Dipper asked nervously.

“Why are you worried about that?” Mabel asked. “You told them about your conspiracies before. What’s different about this?”

“I-,” Dipper scratched the back of his neck. “I don’t really know. Something came over me I can’t explain it.”

“You don’t think that book is haunted do you?” Mabel asked.

“No? Maybe.” Dipper looked at the cover. His face reflected in the six-fingered hand. 

“Do you feel haunted?” Mabel asked.

“I don’t think so?” Dipper shrugged. “How would that even feel?”

“Maybe a really bad headache.” Mabel suggested. “Because that’s where the ghosts have to be to control you.”

“That doesn’t sound right.” Dipper scratched his temple.

“Well anyway, your secret is safe with me bro-bro.” Mabel gave a cheerful smile and placed her hand on her hips.

“Thanks Mabel-”

“But on one condition.” She leaned her forehead against her twin’s. Her cheerful tone dropped as before she continued. “You’re washing that jacket first thing tomorrow morning.”

“What? Oh come on, it doesn’t smell that bad!” Dipper insisted. “Look!”

He held the red jacket against his nose and took a deep sniff. He tried to hold his face, but didn’t last more than a second. The smell of sea salt, mixed with rotten wood and decay filled his nostrils. The intense odour overpowered his mind forcing the now 12 year-old to cough repeatedly.

“Point proven.” Mabel teased. She danced to her side of the room. With a smug grin she picked up a scented marker from her night stand and took a small whiff. “Ahh, the smell of being right.”

“This proves nothing.” Dipper coughed.

“I think it proves you’re a sweaty nerd.” Mabel rolled her eyes. 

“C’mon kids, Lights out!” Their father, Ali, called from down the hall.

“Aw, but it’s our birthday! Don’t we get to stay up late?” Mabel called back.

“You did stay up late! You’ve been up for two hours past your bedtime.” Ali leaned into their room. Dipper quickly hid the journal under his bed sheets.

“Aww,” Mabel whined.

“If you don’t sleep soon you’ll be too tired tomorrow.” He gently stroked her hair.

“Not if I get enough sugar to keep me going.” Mabel grinned.

“We’d go bankrupt if we fed you the sugar you’d need. And then how would we be able to afford your art supplies.” Ali smirked.

“Not my yarn!” Mabel clapped her hands on her adorable cheeks.

“C’mon, to bed.” He smiled, picking her up. “That goes for you Junior, and now after dark reading. Don’t think I can’t tell when you stay up to read.” He nodded to Dipper.

“But-”

“No butts except for yours fast asleep.” His father wagged his finger. Mabel giggled as she dangled over Ali’s shoulder. “Got it?”

“Yes pops.” Dipper sighed.

“Pops? That’s a new one.” His dad chuckled.

The twins settled into bed, their long day finally catching up with them. Their eyes felt heavy with their heads against their pillows. In his last moments of being awake, Dipper felt someone running their fingers through his hair, before he shut his eyes.

Durxqg wkh zruog dqg dfurvv wkh vhd

D vwrqh wkurz dqg d olih wlph dzdb

zdv wklv glvfryhub dv vdih dv lw vhhphg

ru lv wkhuh juhdwhu gdqjhu bhw wr eh vhhq.

While Dipper explored the beach, Mabel was busy keeping their birthday party alive. (Also on ao3!)

Mabel Pines wouldn’t call herself someone who kept track of things; that was always Dipper’s department. Whenever they’d go anywhere he’d have his checklists ready to make sure they’d packed everything, Mabel would act as the voice of reason and point out anything that he’d missed, like snacks for the day they went to the park, or extra paper for when they had that big revision session at the library for their tests. While Dipper’s skills were analysing and piecing together the bigger picture, Mabel’s talents lied more so with the finer details.

So it wasn’t odd for her to notice the sudden lack of her twin’s laughter among the party goers on the beach. In fact, she suspected that the party was suddenly Dipper-less when Carl Spencerton had that smirk on his face as he started to prowl. She knew that smirk, it was the smirk he wore whenever he was in a naughty mood. It was the face he’d pull when he was going to try and knock Dipper’s cap off when passing him by. 

The sight of that twisted expression that failed at passing at a smile instantly kicked her ‘big sister’ instincts into action. Her eyes quickly scanned the beach, trying her best to locate the dark green capped boy. Mabel’s eyes instantly latched onto anything of a similar dark green tone, first was Steven Carmichael's swim shorts, the second was Jessica Turnpike’s rash shirt, the third was some seaweed down by the rocks. 

As her eyes drew away from the seaweed, Mabel found herself looking at a set of single footprints that led off towards the cliff. Subtly dancing her way over, Mabel was able to get a closer look at the foot prints. But that wasn’t necessary, one glance at how the footprints had a smaller set of animal tracks told her that these were Dipper’s thongs prints. “The animal foot prints will make anyone following me think I’m just a dog or something and not lose interest.” he had stated when he had picked the pair of thongs. “And mine have smiley faces on them so that when I walk on the beach it’ll be left smiling!” was her reply.

Mabel’s eyes trailed the footprints, they led down the beach; but she couldn’t follow them for long. She could follow the footprints and find out why Dipper had left the party, especially when they were starting to give out snacks. But then again, what kind of party host would she be if she didn’t stick around to make sure everyone was enjoying themselves? Not to mention the fact that her mother was currently bringing out a plate of snacks that Mabel had made. Happy with the knowledge that her brother was safe from Spencerton’s antics; Mabel skipped along to grab one of her patented Mabel brand sugar biscuits “now with more sugar!”

* * * * *

The sun was starting to set and most of the party goers were getting tired. Snack plates were empty, the games had been played and the streamers that were tied to the palm trees were beginning to fall. All this was starting to signal to Mabel that the party was ready to conclude. Despite wanting to give her guests a great send off, Mabel found herself stalling for as much time as possible. Dipper still wasn’t back, and she needed him to be here to make sure this party ended perfectly. The ‘pin the tail on the donkey’ board was in tatters and everyone was too weak in the knees for another dance off. Her options were running out as was her time, Mabel desperately looked around her. There had to be something that could buy Dipper time to get back. With a grin of delight, Mabel caught sight of the digital camera Dipper had been gifted. An idea was brewing in her mind.

“Goodbye pictures!” she cried out. Grinning even wider at the shared confused look worn across the beach. “C’mon! Let’s take a picture to remember today by!” 

That somehow got everyone excited again. Getting in silly poses and making equally silly faces as Mabel ran around snapping pictures with a giddy smile. With so many people at the party, it was guaranteed that Dipper would be back from wherever before everyone had to leave. In fact, he’d probably make it for the finale photo with everyone at once! 

However, as time crept on; and the limited memory on the camera began to fill. Mabel realised that she couldn’t stall forever. With an accepting sigh, Mabel called all the attendees together, friend or otherwise, for one last photo in front of the setting sun. As they huddled together, Mabel set the camera onto one of the snack tables and ran over to the group, sliding into a photogenic pose at the last minute.  Putting on the biggest smile she could muster, As the camera’s flash went off.

Getting up Mabel, thanked everyone for attending and wished them a great evening. As She was about to see the last guest off, who just happened to be Carl Spencerton, she heard an audible puff. Turn her head with a speed that should have broken her neck, Mabel saw her brother lying face first in the sand. His arms flailing wildly trying to pick himself up.

“Ha! Way to stack it nerd!” Carl Spencerton jeered as he left to his parent’s car. Leaving Mabel to help her brother.

She made her way over to Dipper, who had managed to lift his head from the sand. Without missing a beat, he jumped up and grabbed his sister by the arms.

“M-m-mMabel! Skeleton! Ship! Book! Lightning! AHHHHHH!” Dipper screamed as he shook his sister.

“Woah woah woah,” Mabel said, breaking out of her brother’s hold and grabbing his shoulder with one hand. The sudden contact distracted him long enough for Mabel to poke his nose. “Boop!”

“Ah!” Dipper cried in shock 

“My turn!” Mabel said cheerfully before she grabbed Dipper by his shoulders, “WHERE THE HECK WERE YOU? YOU MISSED THE DANCE PARTY!”

“I was tak-” Dipper tried to cut in as his sister shook him. 

“And then I had to take pictures with our new camera and you missed out on that and now I don’t have any scrapbook pictures of you on our 12th birthday! That’s one of the most important ones!” she interjected, “How are we going to remember our 12th birthday?”

“This!” Dipper cried, pulling himself free of Mabel’s hold. He pushed the journal into Mabel’s face. 

“A dirty old book?” Mabel asked. Her face twisted with confusion. “How’s that going to help?”

“The ship I found this on. We could go check it out. there was a ghost I swear!” Dipper waved his arms wildly. 

Mabel looked around. There was still light. Plus Dipper seemed really distressed. Like more so when his favourite space show was cancelled before the season finale. 

“I guess we could check it out.” Mabel said. Just in time for Dipper to grab a hold of her hand and rush her down the beach.

A brief look into Bill's life working in the shack. (based on the @handymanbill au by @losanpostle and @waty_mot on twitter) (also on ao3!)

The old mop squelched against the older wooden floor as Bill swabbed away. Cleaning up a stain left a careless tourist. The floor that never stays clean for more than a day. Day in day out, The sun rose and fell, tourists entered with full wallets and exited the Mystery shack with lighter pockets but heavier hands. Working in the tourist trap for how long as he had, Bill could recognise returning customers. Higher pitched voices that children shard with their parents. the same terrible taste in outfits and trinkets that that were passed down much like blonde hair or brown eyes. 

He had tried working the crowd. Using his unusual appearance to lean into the persona of being Mr Mystery. But the dullness of the brainless guests wore on him. The hands that passed over his head trying to find the strings pulling him as though Bill Cipher of any being was a puppet. The tedious questions, the ridiculous attractions, when given the chance to return to handy work he couldn't slip on his over-sized green shirt fast enough.

How Stanley had done this job for 30 years stunned Bill to this very day.

The Pines family were averse to him working at the shack at first. In truth so was he. But, seeing that he was powerless, Stanford at the very least was willing to let him remain. The others were harder to sway, of course Bill knew why Ford relented. The shack no longer being his was one reason. Although the triangle doubted that Soos would have had the backbone to argue with the Pines if they told him that Bill could not remain. The true reason that Ford allowed Cipher to remain was because of who placed him in the Shack to rehabilitate.

The Axolotl. 

If arguing with Bill was a waste of time, then arguing against a decree by that pastel salamander was pointless. The obnoxious thing knew even more than Bill did. Much as the triangle was loathe to admit that fact. It had stated that working at this sham of a business would help with his rehabilitation. Bill scoffed at the idea at first, but the idea of finally leaving the dull halls of the theraprisim was a deal he could not refuse. Losing is powers was a great price to pay, but anything was better than dealing with freaks in friendship circles all day.

Of course the arguments about him staying were far behind him, years in fact.

When the Ramirez family drove him out to the Stan twin's funeral Bill didn't know what to do at first. His gut feeling was to laugh, the grand hero of the multiverse, dying of a heart attack before his 'greatest enemy'. But Bill didn't do that. It didn't feel right. The thought of laughing in Ford's cold dead face, while hilarious felt bitter and unsatisfying. When he was in the padded cell in the theraprisim Bill had dreamed of being the cause of these two men's deaths. And while he was not the cause, looking at their peaceful faces in their coffins, Bill only felt hollow.

on the drive back to the shack Bill didn't know why Soos refused to get back to work. The shack felt somber, the usually upbeat couple of soos and melody were quiet. The pair had told bill that they were taking the week off and that he was free to do as he pleased, not even bothering with a warning of staying out of trouble. 

With the whole town as his oyster, Bill could have caused all kind of trouble. Instead he sat in the gift shop, ruminating on the familiar feeling. His mind was drawn back to something that happened eons ago. his first crime. When Soos is Finally able to don the suit, bill is thankful to have work to push his thoughts out of his head.

Even that was many many years ago.

The town out outside the window of the shack has grown much larger, the new populace long ignorant to Bill and his history. The title of 'Mr. Mystery' had been passed down many times. The Pines name is only remembered by the graves outside and the portraits on the walls. Bill is certain that if it wasn't for the heritage of the shack it would have been demolished decades ago.

Bill had seen small blue embers arise from his hands every so often. Part of him wondered if his own power was what kept the shack in place. Generations since his sentence at the shack had been declared, surely some spec of his power would return. If that was not the case then the axolotl must have been keeping his new 'prison' present intact permanently. 

my polaroid piece for @eregyrn-falls-art's multi-artist lyric comic!