Thanks To @marypsue For That One Convo On Text Like Two Months Ago That Helped Me With This Idea And

thanks to @marypsue for that one convo on text like two months ago that helped me with this idea and now i’m actually writing it out, 12/10 friending

——-

He looked at the clock. 2:44. 

Though this was his third sleepless night in a row, Henry could appreciate Mabel snoring away next to him. Nothing got between Mabel and a good six to eight hours of sleep: not a demon brother, or Stan’s poker nights, or three babies suffering from colic all at once-

Or one of their children being kidnapped.

Or what Henry did to get her back. 

A split second memory, of the feeling of bones breaking and healing and breaking and healing over and over in rapid succession as his body got the orders to grow, of the anger that fueled that growth…

He had been so angry.

No.

Henry turned over and away from Mabel, as if doing so would let him ignore the flush and heat of his skin that still hadn’t gone away, the twitchiness of his muscles that let him know it could happen all over again-

He still was. 

That wasn’t the problem. 

There was a small part of him (and indeed, in his head that part of him looked just like he did in kindergarten, black t-shirt from K-mart and unruly hair and missing baby teeth that didn’t all fall out on their own) that was always angry. That had started being angry when he was three and already had learned not to talk back, and had only grown in strength since then.

He was used to that.

He was used to ignoring that. Hell, Henry prided himself on never acting on that anger. And even when he did lose his temper, he never raised his voice, much less his hands. He swore to himself, long ago, he would never do either.

Henry couldn’t say that about himself, not any more. 

It didn’t matter that it was “for the best possible reason” (as Mabel had put it this evening.) Maybe this time it was- but what about the next time? And the next time after?

Because, Henry had a sick feeling there would be a next time. And a next time after that. And after that as well.

Because 45 years of fighting had fallen away, all too easily, in one second. And he had done everything he did without a second thought, without any hesitation at all. 

He looked at the clock. 2:46. 

Do Henry or the Triplets ever manage to have time travel adventures?

“So.”

Ugh. Acacia hated when Hank used that tone on her.

Hank pushed his glasses up on his nose. 

“You think it’s a good idea to go with this weird guy-”

“Blendin Blenjamin Blandin!”

“-the weird guy who accidentally killed Time Baby.”

“I did not kill Time Baby, Time Baby did not die and further more-”

Hank shot Blandin a look he totally stole from Dad. Acacia was surprised that it worked.

“Anyway, you think it’s a good idea to go with him to, what was it?”

“GLOBNOR!!!!!”

Mom mentioned Blandin having a mute button, why didn’t she say where it was? 

“Come on Hank!” she pleaded. “Remember all the games Mom and Uncle Dipper mentioned? The lightcycle races? The hot dog eating contests? Testing your mettle against monsters from across the galaxy? Five dimensional chess? Doesn’t that sound cool?”

“It sounds dangerous,” Willow finally chimed in, plopped in her bean bag chair and reading a magazine.

Acacia huffed. “Okay, doesn’t it sound fun?”

Hank shook his head. “For two seconds until you remember that Mom and Dad would ground us forever.” 

Willow looked up from her magazine at Acacia with a slightly vacant stare. Acacia tried not to squirm. When Willow looked at people like that…she usually was seeing things that people didn’t want her to see.

Finally, Willow looked back down and flipped a page. “I think your version of fun is different from ours Caci.”

Time for the big guns. “Don’t either of you want a time wish? That’s, that’s a big fucking deal right?”

Hank snorted. “Our uncle is a demon. Why do we need a time wish?” 

Not looking up from her article, Willow said, “Look, just admit you want to get into a fight, and you’ll be a lot happier.”

“I- what?” What? That was totally not the reason. Not at all! Acacia couldn’t believe that her own sister said that.

“Are any of you coming?” Blendin asked.

“Unlike these boring babies, I am!” Acacia looked at her siblings to see if her sick burn landed, and was disappointed to see neither of them were looking at her.One last chance. “Aren’t you all worried about me going off on my own?”

Hank was fishing under his bed for something. “I’m worried about the massive grounding you’re going to get.”

Willow finished her magazine, and leaned over to get another one from the pile. “I’m worried you’re going to come back covered in other people’s blood.” 

“That is a highly specific concern!” Blendin said, completely unnecessarily. 

Acacia rolled her eyes. “Whatever, let’s just go.”

(she had never had more fun, never felt more alive. And when Uncle Dipper finally appeared to get her, she had no idea why her saying that made him turn ghost pale.

Willow was right. She did have blood all over her darnit.)

Correction

Here’s my angst-riffic fic for the anniversary. Fair warning: it ends on a cliffhanger and the second part may not be out for a while. 

Read on Fanfiction.Net [here] and on AO3 [here]

It was supposed to be a summoning just like any other.

It wasn’t.

Part 1: Dipper

It was a fairly ordinary night in for the Pines family. Henry was out for the weekend at some kind of librarians’ convention, and Mabel was grocery shopping (and with seven people to feed and one of them a demon, long trips to the grocery store were common), which left Dipper and Stan to watch the kids.

So, naturally, they’d summoned Dipper to the physical plane with a bag of lollipops and were playing Monopoly.

Technically, Dipper was only the banker, because house rules said that no one with omniscience could have a pawn, but that rule said nothing about auctioning off hints or specified rolls of the dice to whoever offered the most candy in return.

One far-too-easily-purchased Park Place and a couple trips to Jail later and the game had devolved into more of a shouting-and-auctioning match with the occasional throw of the dice, but the kids weren’t running wild over the entire house, so Dipper considered it a success.

Of course, it wouldn’t have been a weekend night at the Pines house without a summoning.

Keep reading

HC: The "Don Pines" thing started as a joke, the people that hang around Hank most and are close enough friends to do it started calling him Don and bowing or kissing his hand as a greeting to mess with him. He got used to it and it became a running thing, and then one of the others saw it and was like "Holy crap this is a mob guys we've accidentally joined a mob" and then everyone started doing it. Dipper once showed up, called him Don Pines and kissed his ring in front of everyone.

He does it in front of some n00bs too, and Hank looks at the way too overawed look in their eyes that is going to take forever to get rid of and god damnit Uncle Dipper

Two people walk into the hospital.

(there is something to be said about being induced and not having to live out fifty ‘woman in labor’ cliches is one of them).

The woman has her hair done in a million tiny braids and is wearing a sweater emblazoned with a massive explosion and the words “READY TO POP!”. She’s not walking so much as she is waddling with purpose, and looks, for lack of a better term, like a big grape stuck through a toothpick. Her face is painted- literally- in red glitter paint.

(“It’s my battle face!”)

The man next to her is somehow even more noticeable. A few months ago, that wouldn’t have been the case; usually it was the laugh beat of ‘tall guy short girl’ before looking back at Mabel.

Even now there was no real reason to stare at the man, not when the woman next to him had started letting out Xena yells. Yes he was rather tall, and crowned with an impressive mass of curly red hair. But he is dressed rather plain in comparison to his wife- black jeans, a long black collared shirt, with black boots and belt. Nothing out of the ordinary, no reason for people to conspicuously get as far out of the way from the couple as humanly possible, and yet-

(a weight on the air, like a great and terrible storm is rolling in, and eyes in a blue that is not usually human standard, and above all, the force of will that keeps everything in check…)

They check in, Stan and Dipper following behind them carrying bags of fast food- even though both Mabel and Henry had explained that this was only going to be three or four hours as opposed to nine or twelve.

Dipper has brought his Switcheroo, his laptop, and four books. Stan has a pack of cards.

Henry looks at Mabel, who shrugs. Three hours is a long time after all.

(it’s not, really)

Keep reading

In his career as a paranormal educator, Dipper publishes a book, perhaps a layperson's guide to interacting with the paranormal safely and ethically. Its dedication: "To Grunkle Ford, without whose intellect I would not have this knowledge to share, and to Grunkle Stan, without whose courage I would not be alive to share it."

This is perfect and all the mods are squeeing