Ooh! This Is Fun! I Love How You Wrote About Ford Feeling Suffocated, It's Always Hard Finding A Balance

Ooh! This is fun! I love how you wrote about Ford feeling suffocated, it's always hard finding a balance between making him justifiably upset and making him sound like a jerk who blames Stan for everything but you nailed the balance! I especially like the example of Stan and Ford's names being so similar they're practically the same, and Ford's though process about whether their principal even knew their separate names.

And i feel like this Elijah kid mayhaps be the one Ford is about to get mixed up with? 👀

Although how could you leave us with such a cliffhanger? Why must we suffer like your dream made you suffer?? (Just kidding, I love this)

A short preface. The idea of the main story is not mine. It’s au in au.

Creator of the main story @gobblewanker

But since this is not just an artist and a writer, it is also a demon of dreams (there was a personal confession), dreams with a small alternative version of this story began to appear in my head.

It's still the Author!Stan au, but with a different storyline for Ford. Stan's line is almost the same, although it will also have small changes. But there won't be many of them

The author of the main story didn't mind, so I decided to write this. The first chapter will be a bit boring because it's introductory. And be a little lenient with me, because I wrote this in one day. But I couldn't wait to get started

Pen pals (1/?)

Chapter one “Irony has never been so bitter”

Stanford was practically bouncing on the spot: "I just can't believe it! Are so many professors of the WCT interested in anomalies?!" Of course Ford knew that they were studying the possibility of the existence of alternative worlds, but a full-fledged program for the study of anomalies was a real dream.

Ford's interlocutor laughed softly from so much enthusiasm: "I was only talking about three professors, young man. Since we are the direct partners of our government, we are dealing with the most up-to-date data. After we sign the relevant documents, of course"

"And everyone is serious about anomaly research?"

The professor was clearly surprised by this question, "Of course. We consider it bad form to treat any research with disdain if it stirs the minds of our colleagues. We do not doubt the competence of our researchers. Especially considering how often we see evidence of their relevance"

Ford couldn't stop smiling. They took off just a few hours ago, but he had already managed to talk to the professor and his wife accompanying them. They were such amazing people that Ford had been talking to them for some time without paying attention either to his very uncomfortable sitting position on the plane, or to the fact that he did not even know their names. The conversation had absorbed him too much.

They were intelligent and interesting people, without a drop of arrogance, which he was so afraid to see. After all, most of the people from the admissions committee seemed incredibly arrogant and pretentious.

With particular fear, Ford recalls how he saw his perpetual motion machine broken. Those raised eyebrows and sharp phrases. The way his name was crossed out in the list of applicants with a bold line. The members of the commission were about to leave, but one of the interested professors stopped them.

He asked Ford for a detailed account of how his invention was supposed to work. And despite his confusion, Ford managed to do it.

He also looked at all the drawings and examined the perpetual motion machine itself, concluding that apparently the school hooligans tried to spoil Ford's presentation. This surprised him very much, but he did not dwell on it. After all, he was always hated by the whole school. Of course they would have tried to disrupt his chance.

When his presentation ended, the situation changed a lot. The faces of the people from the admissions committee were very impressed and Ford's name was again entered in the list of applicants. This time with a confirmation tick.

Then they left and Ford didn't even have time to get to know any of them. At least until now. After all, right now, he was talking to exactly the professor who saved him from a shameful defeat.

"Excuse me," a young guy who was sitting between the professor and his wife addressed Ford. "Could you save me from continuing this conversation by swapping seats with me? In any case, it will be more convenient for you to talk this way, and I won't have to continue listening to it." the guy's tone was not hostile, but rather playful.

Ford looked around and realized that this guy was right. They were not even talking in front of each other, but being diagonally. In this position, they most likely interfered with a lot of other passengers who looked a little annoyed. But obviously they couldn't say anything, because it's pretty stupid to anger your own teacher. The thought of making enemies a month before the start of the school year made Ford shrink a little. It would be too much even for him. It was too much even for Stan.

The professor's wife rolled her eyes: "You're as polite as ever, Elijah, but you can't get up on the plane. So please calm down. And try not to be ironic"

Looking a little closer, it could be assumed that this guy was the son of a professor and his wife. Many facial features also matched, as if one new face had been put together from their faces.

"We are already in flight enough, I don't think it will be a big problem. Especially if you act quickly," Elijah said, climbing over the professor and Ford had to do the same. The fuss didn't last very long and now everyone was sitting in the other's place.

Elijah whispered: "You are my savior," after which he buried his nose in a book that he had apparently read before. Ford was a little surprised by such self-willed behavior, but he couldn't help but chuckle. There was something about his manner that reminded him of Stan. His carelessness and lightness, which Ford always admired

Immediately after Ford sat down next to them, the professor handed him: "My name is Charles Forrester. I'm a professor in the Department of Physics, and this is my wife Elizabeth Brown. She is a Doctor of Physics and is engaged in research activities. It is she who directs research on alternative worlds. And that little grouch you were just talking to is our son Elijah. He's also a freshman."

"Oh.. I'm... I'm Stanford Pines" Ford awkwardly responded to the handshake expecting some sharp reaction, but Professor Forrester did not react to this in any way, nor did his wife. However, when he said his name, they both laughed a little while looking at each other, which surprised him, "What's the matter?"

"Nothing, nothing, sorry, it's very rude of us. It's just that our son's full name is Oxford Elijah Forrester," said Mrs. Brown, "We started calling him by his middle name when we realized that in our circles it was impossible not to confuse him with Oxford University."

Ford laughed a little himself. Indeed, Oxford and Stanford became students of the WCT. There was definitely something wrong with that phrase.

They discussed various anomalies and phenomena for a long time, which they did not find an explanation for. Various myths and stories. It was an amazing conversation, during which there was not a single mention of his hands. It was unusual. And very nice

For the first time in his life, Ford felt a surge of hope. He can do it. He will become a real scientist who will prove to the whole world that anomalies are a reality to be reckoned with.

A little guy from New Jersey who everyone thinks is a defective version of his brother. Perhaps if he can achieve the right heights, then everyone will treat him the way Professor Forrester and Dr. Brown did. As a promising scientist who has every chance of success. And not like with a freak who belongs in a circus.

God, he had so much work to do.

It was hard to wait for the arrival to call home. Their farewell to Stan was rather strained. Ford understood that. But maybe if he calls Stan as often as possible and tells him how his studies are progressing, then his brother will understand how important it was for Ford. Perhaps he will understand his motives and will be proud that Ford has found a way to cope with his shortcomings.

Maybe after a while Stanley himself will think about moving to Colifornia. Sherman had already lived there for several years, and he had a fiancee. Ford was going to study there and most likely also stay there to live on a permanent basis. Maybe in a couple of years Stan will decide to do it too. During this time, they will become more independent personalities and will not be so dependent on each other.

They won't suffocate.

Ford felt a very old and familiar pang of guilt at the thought. His brother was always there for him when he needed it. He supported and took care of him. I was ready to jump in front of any bully for his protection.

But sometimes it became too much. They were twins, not one whole person. They had the same faces, but not the same characters. And yet they were summoned to the principal together. They always did, regardless of the occasion. Sometimes Ford suspected that the assistant principal simply did not know their names. Just the Pines Twins. One person, inextricably linked. Two halves that no one even wants to separate.

Their own father gave them almost identical names. And yes, their names had different endings, but Filbrick himself never used it. He just called them both "Stan" until Ford practically stopped responding to it at the age of thirteen. Of course, he listened to a real lecture on this topic about disrespect for his own father. But soon even such a stubborn person as Filbrick Pines realized that this was not intentional disobedience.

Is it really so bad that Ford wanted some space for himself? For his ambitions and his own goals? It's not like he's leaving his own brother, right?

It was right. Ford knew that. He understood this with his mind, but why, with all his euphoria, did he feel this heaviness in his chest? This is a concern.

Ford had had a strange premonition for some time.

When he was packing his things. When he hugged his brother weakly at parting. When she and Sherman were talking on the phone, discussing his arrival. When Ford's farewell handshake with his father was stronger than usual. When he barely managed to get out of his mother's tenacious grip, convincing her that she would see him at Hanukkah soon enough.

This feeling has always been inside. In each of these moments.

All this time, Ford blamed it on the longing from the approaching long separation.

Oh, if only he understood how right he was.

But right now, already on the plane, he felt something else. It's fear. Fear seeping under his skin. An irrational, unfounded fear that was growing stronger by the second. It was such a strong feeling that he almost disconnected from the present. Professor Forrester asked him several times if he was okay, but Ford couldn't bring himself to answer.

Something was wrong. He wasn't psychic, but what was wrong. And he couldn't figure out what exactly until....

Until the deceptively calm voice of the flight attendant asked them to remain calm.

Until he heard the first screams of the panicked.

Until he realized they were falling.

Until he realized that he was going to die.

Ah yes, the problem with teaching your niece and nephew is that they're not scared to prank you. At least Mabel isn't.

(professor!Ford belongs to @lemonfodrizzleart)

Well. Looks like I'll be stuck on a train for the next few hours. Anyone got some pen and paper sketch ideas?

Ooh! If anyone has the post reblogged or saved, I'd love to see it!

So cool someone else had the same idea! ^^

Slightly obscure (?) fairytale: King Lindworm

In a long ago kingdom, the queen gives birth to twin boys. The younger is perfectly normal in every way. The older is a Lindworm (serpentine dragon).

The main problem is what happens when the younger twin wants to go off and find a wife (or husband, that works too). The older brother has to get married first, but none of the princesses brought before him meets his criteria; mainly that none of them are willing to actually love him. After two have been killed, the king decides to find a more expendable candidate and chooses a peasant — who then succeeds in breaking the curse by showing up dressed in ten dresses on the wedding night and insisting for every dress she takes off the dragon sheds a skin which eventually strips him down to the human underneath.

It's a weird fairytale, but I kinda like it.

I'm going to say that in this au, the peasant is Fiddleford, Ford is the Lindworm, and Stan is the normal prince. The princesses don't die, but Ford does attack them when they reject him as a 'monster'. Ford has been locked up in the castle his whole life, and is unsociable and aggressive because of it. Stan is the only one able to be around him safely and calm him down when he's upset.

The Mystery and The Isosceles

Ch 3: Like a Drowned Rat

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"Let me out of here you jerks!" Mabel kicked hard at the metal bars confining her to the depths of the ship. They rattled, but—perhaps unsurprisingly—didn't bend under the force of a child's feet. They were rusted through with the dampness of the ship, but not enough to break. If she wanted out she'd have to bypass the lock.

There was that one boy who'd figured out how to pick the lock on the larder in the house they'd briefly been apprenticed at. Mabel had sweet talked him into showing her how to do it before she and Dipper ran away, but on the order of the officer the crewmen had confiscated her things. Her thin metal knitting needles were just out of reach, lying on a mossy barrel. If she could bend them they'd probably be enough to pick a lock as clunky as the one of the cell door. But her arms were too short.

She kicked at the door again and again, until her foot hurt and she was forced to stop. Her throat was raw and painful from yelling, and just maybe, a little bit of crying too. It felt like a large lump was rising in it. As if she'd tried to swallow a stone. Or maybe cough one up: One of the hundreds of stones all lying in her stomach, making her feel heavy and nauseous.

What was going to happen to Dipper out there?

Without warning, it felt as if the entire ship lurched.

A horrendous booming crash tore through the stagnant damp air, immediately followed by the sound of splintering wood and screaming men.

It was the loudest sound Mabel had ever heard. It sent her heart pounding out of her chest and made her hair stand on it's ends, the immediate contrast between solemn yet silent despair and loud confused terror. For just a second, silence fell as the ship swayed back into upright position: A hush of stunned disbelief grabbing hold of the vessel. Before another bang rippled through the planks and the sea outside. And then another, and another, and another.

Each pang was answered in bewildered shrieks and demands Mabel couldn't fully make out. Heavy footfalls pattered against the boards above her, and they rattled and shuddered with the noises. It felt as if the entire room was being batted around like a toy boat in a fast flowing stream. A toy boat that Mabel was trapped inside feeling suddenly very wary.

"Hey!" She was thrown against the bars as the room lurched. "Hey! Can anyone hear me!? What's going on!?"

She screamed at the top of her lungs, but received no reply except the still raging maelstrom of noise and movement. She could hear the ship buzzing with activity, she could feel the acute sense that something was very very wrong. But she couldn't  see . All she could see were the wooden walls outside her cell. Nobody answered her.

Mabel pulled at the door again, rattling the bars but still not budging them enough to allow her an exit. Her lungs were heaving with the effort as her breathing picked up it's speed. As it did so, another smell beyond the mold and damp moss began to make itself known to her. It wasn't one she'd smelled before, but it reminded her vaguely of charcoal. Like the smell of a newly extinguished candle but amplified by a thousand. She could still hear footsteps, but it sounded like they were travelling further from her. Ascending through the levels of the ship while she remained trapped below, unsure of what was going on but terrifyingly aware that it wasn't good.

Looking up towards the ceiling, hoping for the sight of shadows moving between the miniscule gaps in the planks, Mabel's attention was instead caught by something else: The small lamp suspended above her was leaning.

No. The lamp wasn't leaning.

The room was.

Almost in the exact same moment she made that startling discovery, her attention was ripped from what lay above her to the floor below. The bottoms of her tanned leather boots were soaking.

Mabel gasped as she realized she was suddenly standing in a small but alarmingly rapidly rising pool of water.

Recoiling on instinct to an edge of the cell that was not yet submerged, she watched the shimmering surface climb gradually higher along the wall. What had been just a few centimetres in depth was soon approaching her ankles. The tops of her feet were underwater, and that realization snapped her out of the temporary stupor panic had put her in.

She banged at the walls hopelessly, pulling at the bars with even more strength than she had mustered before.

"Help!" She screamed at the top of her lungs like a dying creature. She screamed even as her chest grew taut and her lungs burned in terror. "Is anyone there!?"

There was no answer. If her earlier guess was correct, everyone else was already up on deck trying to escape the water rushing in themselves. They'd forgotten her below, and nobody was going to hear.

Nobody was coming for her.

The booms and the crashing noises had stopped, but water was still rushing in from all around. It was almost at her waist. The barrel her knitting needles were lying on was floating, but not towards her. She tried to reach anyways, stretching her arm out as far as it would go between the gaps until her shoulder caught and held her back. She was close enough that she could brush the wet wood with her fingertips. Pulling back, she threw herself bodily at the gap between the bars and this time managed to slap her palm against the barrel.

The touch sent it bobbing the opposite way.

"No, no, no!" She whined, watching escape float out of reach. "Come back!"

The water was almost past her shoulders. Was it just her, or were they sinking faster? Why was nobody stopping the leaking?

Had everyone already abandoned ship with her in it?

Abandoning the needles, she frantically looked around the room for any other option. There were more barrels of unknown items, a stool, some ropes and a small table floating freely. Nothing useful was within reach. She looked back up at the ceiling lamp, it's oil still burning unreached by the rising flood.

Her feet were off the ground, the water raising her up towards the ceiling. There was maybe a meter of air left above her. She was a strong swimmer, but that wouldn't help once the pocket of air became filled with water.

She reached for the dangling lantern as the water lifted her high enough to grab for it. Unsure of what else to do, she grabbed the metal part and threw it at the part of the wall that was still above water. She couldn't remember if it was an interior wall or an external one, but it seemed like the only half-decent idea her chaotic thoughts could arrive at. Dipper was the one who came up with clever plans, not her.

The glass shattered, covering the exposed wood in oil and igniting. Sparks flew in her eyes but she ducked her head underwater before her hair could catch on fire. As she gulped for air once she resurfaced, she instead began coughing and hacking as smoke spilled into her lungs.

Most of the brig was flooded, what little air remained was now filling with suffocating smoke, and she was trapped against the ceiling along with a burning wall. Her lungs screamed for air.

Bracing against the steel bars, she kicked at the weakened and burning wood sending another shower of sparks into her face. The heat burned but her clothes were too waterlogged to catch aflame. Dipping her boots below she kicked again and again, struggling for air.

The water finally rose over her head, putting out the fire, and a part of her was almost prepared to accept that that was it. But she refused. The salt water made her eyes burn as she tried to see through the dark and the blur. Her throat and lungs felt like they'd been seared. But she could make out the deep ugly scorch mark on the already rickety wood wall.

Throwing her entire weight into it, her foot broke through the damaged planks. Her leg was caught in the current and pulled outside, and she was stuck again: One leg outside the ship. The splintered wood dug into her thigh but she hardly noticed. Instead she hit and tore at the splintered edges, trying to widen the hole.

Finally, under the strain of the tugging current and her own desperate pulling, the wall began to splinter and crack. The hole broke wide open, and suddenly her entire body was pulled outside the ship. She cut her temple on the sharp planks and her hands ached but all she could think about was air. She needed air. Sunlight filtered through the water and she followed it upwards until her head finally broke the surface.

She breathed in a huge gulp, extinguishing the fire eating at the inside of her lungs. But her relief was premature. She now found herself floating unmoored in the endless expanse of the sea. Behind her, the merchant ship lay half submerged in the water, a battle still raging on deck. There was another ship behind it, one Mabel didn't recognize, and in front...

The Isosceles dwarfed her as she flailed in the water and fought against the current seeking to suck her below and smash her skull against it's keel. Her skirts were sodden and pulling her downwards into the abyssal sea and whatever lay below. She was a strong swimmer, stronger than Dipper at least. Their grandpa had taught them to swim at an early age and she'd taken to it like most other sports. But the waves and wet fabric and her own exhaustion were still overwhelming factors. Her head was dunked underwater again and again and she knew it wasn't long until it wouldn't let her up anymore.

Terrifying or not, the Isosceles was the only ship she could trust herself to reach before drowning claimed her.

The lowest of the ship's gun decks was almost at the waterline, it's cannon holes shut to stop it flooding. Dipper was right, it was a heavy ship.

Using the last reserves of her strength, Mabel managed to jank one of the holes open. She pulled herself up, squeezed into the narrow opening, and collapsed onto mercifully dry flooring inside.

She was anything but safe, but she could breathe .

She lay flat on her back behind one of the cannons, unable to do anything but savour the feeling of air flowing steadily into and out of her lungs.

Her every muscle felt like it was still held down by the weight of an ocean.

Stan was the first of the Mystery's crew to make landfall on the deck of the merchant ship the kid—Dipper—had indicated as the one his sister was stuck on. Lead by example and all that. But the others were right behind him, his second and first mate dropping down on either side. Good thing too, considering what they were up against.

The sun glinted off of the excessive gold decorating seemingly every available surface of the Isosceles. The merchant ship was caught in-between the two pirate crews, and suddenly a bunch of hodgepodge redhats running blindly every which way seemed like the least of their concerns. The deck leaned noticeably under his boots, and it struck Stan how uncharacteristic it was for Bill's men to indiscriminately fire.

You couldn't sell a sunken ship.

Not that that was much of a priority right now.

"Wendy, find the girl." He snapped to the left of him. She answered with a quick nod before freeing the axe from her belt and starting down the length of the ship.

Woe be anyone who got in her way.

The deck was a confused cacophonous battlefield as the three crews clashed with one another, but it was clear the merchants weren't much of a threat. Stan instead scanned the chaos for whichever men stood out from the uniformed ones. He recognised a fair few of Bill's crew, but the man himself was nowhere to be seen.

Instead, he was about to start carving a path through the chaos towards the woman he recognised as the highest present authority—Bill's first mate.

He was stopped dead in his tracks when he noticed a significantly shorter head of brown hair zip across deck.

"The hell do ya think you're doing!?" Stan tore off through the crowd as his heart shot into his mouth, barely managing to reach Dipper in time to intercept a sword whizzing through the air towards his head. The man, one of Bill's crew, recoiled in startled surprise as their swords collided with a metallic clang.

He looked even more surprised when Stan swept his legs aside, grabbed him by the front of the shirt, and threw him over the railing.

"I told ya to stay on board!" Stan roared at the young boy, grabbing his hand in the same motion and pulling him behind himself. Dipper made a loud noise of protest and tried to brainlessly push past even as Stan fended another two men away from them both.

"Let me go! I need to find Mabel!"

The child squirmed, and Stan resorted to picking him up bodily to stop him running off. With his one free hand, he kept fighting as best he could. He was old, but he knew what he was doing. You don't survive thirty years a pirate by being easy pickings.

His back was still going to hate him when this was over.

"No, Wendy is finding her." Stan punctuated his point with a lash of the sword at a man that stepped just a tad too close. The sailors seemed to have mostly scurried to hide in whatever nooks were free—Their sinking ship caught in the crossfire between the two warring pirate crews. He met the eyes of Bill's first mate through the pandemonium. He couldn't help himself, rage bloomed inside him into an explosion. He half shoved, half threw Dipper towards Soos with a shouted order to get him back to their own ship, before he started down towards the woman. Pushing men from both sides out of his way.

"Pyronica!" Steel clashed deafeningly as he engaged her. Her misaligned teeth gritted behind pink lips drawn taut in a scowl. "Where's your captain, huh? Hiding ?"

She was caught off guard for a second, stunned into silence, before her expression turned dark and stormy with outrage.

"From you ?" She huffed, returning blows. "Delusional old man!"

The crew were noticeably more disorganized than usual. They were never orderly . But they were obedient and—with their captain leading—efficient. The two crews were usually closely matched. None of Stan's men stood much of a chance against Bill himself, but then again, none of Bill's crew could take on Stan. Whenever they did fight, the two captains would usually be caught in a bloody back and forth as the rest fought amongst themselves. Stan had lost count of the injuries he'd suffered, but he'd always pay back in kind.

He was going to be the one to personally send Bill to the depths, even if the price was his own life.

Compared to her captain, Pyronica was child's play.

"Sir!" Wendy called above the clamor on deck.

"What!?" Stan shot back, not pausing the onslaught.

"The brig is flooded!"

He stopped, breathing heavily as he looked towards the girl. Her face was twisted into an expression of worry and guilt, and only then did Stan notice that she was drenched from her head to her boots.

"I tried to swim, but- I couldn't- I-"

She stammered, looking scared and small in her soaked clothes. Like the little girl she had been the first time he'd let her onboard.

Pyronica used Stan's distraction to flee, commanding the rest of Bill's crew to abandon ship before the vessel went under completely and make for the safety of the Isosceles.

It couldn't be.

They couldn't be too late.

It wasn't fair. If only they'd shown up just a little sooner- if only the Isosceles had attacked a few minutes later-...

The ship wouldn't be sinking if they hadn't been attacked.

It wouldn't be too late if they hadn't been attacked.

If Bill's ship hadn't attacked them.

Bill killed that girl.

Bill separated another pair of twins.

"Back to the Mystery!" Stan roared, fury and grief welling up inside him. It was ridiculous, he didn't even know this kid, he shouldn't be so upset.

She wasn't Ford.

It still hurt like hell, seeing the lost and horrified look on her brother's face as Stan swung back on board with Wendy shortly after him, the girl unable to even look them in the eyes.

These sort of things happen .

"Every man who's not on board in ten seconds is getting left behind! Follow that ship!" Stan ran to the bow of the ship, watching Bill's men frantically struggle to gain enough speed to escape. Their ship was formidable, practically a floating fort, but about as fast as one too under the weight of heavy cannons and decorative metal. The crew struggled uncoordinated under the command of a woman they neither respected nor feared as much as Bill. They would catch them. Stan muttered to himself, venom in his voice. "Let's sink this son of a bitch."

He swore he could see the terror in the eyes of Bill's first and second mates as they began to close the distance. It was with grim satisfaction he commanded his crew to prepare for battle.

But then something happened that took him by complete surprise.

Up on deck amongst the men and women, a child appeared, dragged up from inside the ship by a crew member. A small girl with long brown hair and—

And Dipper screamed.

Stan wasn't sure if it was relief or terror or a bit of both, but Dipper shouted for the girl at the top of his lungs. Loud enough for it to be heard over the water to the other ship, because Pyronica turned to stare at them as if her brain was rapidly trying to sort out her options. Suddenly she grabbed the girl out of the other man's hands, and Stan realized what she was going to do a second before she did it.

She threw the girl into the water.

Predicting the boys reaction before it could happen, he yelled for Soos to grab the kid and hold him back no matter what. The last thing they needed were two children overboard. Dipper kicked and screamed. Stan glared at the fleeing vessel one last time.

He then yelled an order to stop their pursuit.

Stan watched revenge slip through his fingers for the briefest of moments, before he shrugged his jacket off and dove from the bow into the warm sea.

The girl was staying afloat, but it was barely. By the time Stan reached her her face was underwater more often than it was above. In her panic, she apparently didn't notice him approach until he was already at her side. She made a startled noise and slipped below the waves.

He took a deep breath, and dove after. His eyesight was poor as it is, the saltwater didn't help. But as he felt around almost blindly his hand closed around what he first thought was seaweed but very quickly realised was long hair swaying with the current. Reaching towards it's roots, he found a head and shoulders. He grabbed the child under her arms and towed her back towards the surface.

She gasped and coughed up saltwater by the buckets, her face messy with snot and salt and her wet hair plastered to her red cheeks. The first gasp she managed to take transformed into a terrified sob, but he didn't let her slip below again.

"Ssh, ssh it's okay, Pumpkin. You're okay."

Her body was far heavier than he'd expected with her drenched clothes—this was exactly why Wendy wore pants. Soaking wet, one of those dresses weighed about as much as Soos—but he managed to keep his grip on her. Slowly swimming her back towards the ship. One of the lifeboats was already lowered to the water, ready to pull them up.

As the shivering child was finally deposited safely back on deck, her brother practically launched himself at her in a bone crushing hug. She looked scared and confused at the sight of the unfamiliar crew, but calmed at the closeness of her twin.

He considered briefly, looking back at the barely above water merchant ship, before cursing his own bleeding heart and stopping the crew member who was in the process of hoisting the lifeboat back up. Instead he cut the ropes and let it float off into the water below with a pointed look at the stranded sailors.

"Leave the lifeboat in the water. I'm feeling generous today."

As he walked towards the captain's cabin to change out of his sopping wet clothes Stan stopped to watch the speck on the horizon that was the Isosceles. His heart sank.

But then again, when his gaze turned to the two children sat on deck with Soos and Wendy, the girl looking like a drowned rat and the boy snotty nosed and crying from relief—he knew he could have never made any other choice.

They wouldn't be the first lost kids with nowhere to go to wind up on his ship.

The Mystery and The Isosceles

Ch 2: Unlikely Rescuers

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There was the familiar smell of wood, salt, and lamp oil all around him as Dipper slowly started to stir awake, and at first there was nothing but pure relief. The gentle rocking of waves against the ship's wooden hull tempted him to go back to sleep. It was warm, the makeshift cot felt softer than it had been. But the dredges of a nightmare were still nagging at him, urging him to reach out for the comfort of his sibling.

She wasn’t there.

Dipper shot up in bed to find himself faced with, not the cramped warrens of a cargo hold, but a large wooden chamber full of hammocks and boxes strung from the low ceiling and in between thick lumber beams. The rapid movement sent his bed swaying wildly, nearly dumping him off the canvas surface and onto the floor below. It’s a ship, but it’s unfamiliar and he’s alone and he has no idea who’s ship it is and—

And there’s a goat bleating at him.

“What the heck?” He croaked unthinkingly. The animal looked at him sideways, before ignoring him completely and resuming chewing on the scratchy wool blanket lying over Dipper’s chest.

“Oh hey.” A noticeably female voice perked up from somewhere in the musty gloom. There was movement in the dark, and one of the hammocks swayed, nimbly depositing a young woman onto the wooden floorboards. Standing up straight, she looked at him in the low lamplight. “And here I half thought you’d croaked. Good job you little maniac.”

The woman walked close enough that Dipper could see her face even in the murk. Leaning over him briefly, she then settled back against a beam.

“The name’s Wendy.” She informed him with a cursory smirk.

She was taller than him, but definitely not an adult. Her red hair fell haphazardly down over her shoulders, and the glint of a weapon twinkled at her hip, tucked into a belt of plaid fabric.

“I-... Where-” Dipper didn’t get the chance to finish his question, before the creak of a hatch opening sounded from somewhere and a sliver of natural light fell onto the floor.

“Shoot, I forgot.” Wendy said. “Hey Soos! The kid is up!”

“Wait, really?” A heavyset shadow stumbled into view around the corner, and Dipper tensed slightly, before almost immediately relaxing at the sight of the man. He smiled widely at the bedridden child, but there wasn’t an ounce of maliciousness behind it. He was large, but didn’t look intimidating in the slightest. More like one of those large oafish hounds that didn’t seem to realize they were made to take down wild bears, and would instead jump at their own shadows and insist on being petted. “Dude, that’s awesome!”

“You wanna go get the captain?”

“Oh, I’m on it.” He saluted her with an enthusiasm that looked way too sincere, before darting out of the room again.

Dipper tried to sit up straighter, but found it a challenge on the constantly shifting fabric that made out the hammock he was lying in. The violent swaying almost threw him off balance, startling the goat—why was there a goat?— into trotting off. Reclining back before he could fall, Dipper felt a hard lump in his jacket.

So thirsty.

Digging under the roots of a tree, where the dirt looks strange.

There's no water.

There's a book .

Why is there a book?

Memories of being lost and alone on an island rushed back to the forefront of his mind, sweltering heat, and suddenly he felt nauseous. The book was still tucked securely into his jacket, and it all felt far too real. He’d almost died. He would have died if these people didn’t find him and Mabel—

Oh no, Mabel . Mabel was gone, and Dipper was all alone and he had no idea where he was or who these people were and he needed to find Mabel, but how was he supposed to do that if he doesn’t even know where he is ? He can’t track down an entire merchant ship and even if he could he doesn’t know if they even still have Mabel or—

“Hey! Hey, kid calm down!” A pair of hands closed around the fabric on his shoulders, shaking him gently. A freckled face looked at him with concern. “Don’t heave on me, okay? Budge over.”

She shoved his shoulder lightly, but Dipper was too preoccupied trying to make the nausea go away and control his own breathing to oblige. Still, the hammock shifted as she sat down on the edge, making him lean back before handing him a canteen. He looked at it dubiously, his clammy face scrunched up in discomfort. Everything spun. He was going to throw up. The flask was pressed into his hand more intently.

“It's water, I promise. Captain won’t let me near the booze.” She helped guide his hand to his mouth, it was lukewarm, but somehow the water did help him feel less nauseous. “Sorry, should’ve thought of that earlier. You were out there pretty long.” She shrugged sheepishly, carefully removing her hands once Dipper seemed steady enough to hold the canteen without spilling all over himself.

“What… What kind of captain would that be?” Dipper managed in-between pangs of queasiness.

“Oh.” Wendy snorted in amusement. “You’ll see.”

Dipper was going to demand more of an explanation, but before he could manage he heard the hatch creak open again, and this time there were two male voices speaking. One that he pinned as the young man—Zeus? Soos?—from earlier, and another significantly gravellier. The two men soon appeared within Dipper’s line of sight.

Dipper had expected the captain to be senior to Wendy and Soos. But maybe not quite that senior.

The grizzled old man looked at him, his gaze alert and calculating for just a second, before his demeanor shifted so fast Dipper couldn’t be sure he’d even seen it. An easy smile settled comfortably onto his stubbled face, and he leaned onto a gold-hilted sword as if it was a cane. He looked old and unintimidating, relaxed posture making him look shorter and stouter than he had just a second ago.

The strangest thing, the thing that almost made Dipper feel nauseous again, was how much he reminded him of grandpa.

“Would ya look at that. The dead walk.” He gestured lazily towards Dipper. “You doing okay kid?”

Dipper nodded once, quickly.

“Name’s Stan.”

Dipper nodded again. His throat felt like it was closing up, and he took another quick sip of water to try and relieve it.

“So, uh, you got a name?”

“Dipper.” He croaked out. Wendy looked at him incredulously, but didn’t question it.

“Not much of a talker, huh?” The captain raised an eyebrow at him. “Alright, whatever. A responsible adult might want to know where the hell your parents are, or who ya pissed off to get ditched on that island. But I don’t really care. However, I’m not a complete monster. So you can hitch a ride to the closest populated island.”

“Are you pirates?” Dipper blurted out before he could stop himself. Dipper might have expected most people to be offended by the question, but Stan barely reacted.

“What’s it to you?”

“Pretty sure that’s a yes.” Dipper shot back with far more venom in his voice than earlier.

“And what if it is?” Stan answered, sounding bored.

Dipper glared at the man, but he remained unfazed. Just kept leaning lazily on the sword, which suddenly seemed far more like an extremely nonchalant threat than a part of the old man facade. A way to make it explicitly clear that he was armed, hands on the hilt, without having to make an actual advance.

“Look.” He sighed. “I ain’t the bad guy here.”

“You are, by definition.”

“Might wanna show a bit more courtesy towards the folks who decided it was worth saving ya despite being a useless barnacle. Nothin’ says we’re obliged to help.” Stan narrowed his eyes in mild frustration. “Also, might not wanna be so quick to make judgement on pirates while you’re snuggled up to one. Wendy’s no pushover.”

Dipper’s face went beet red, and for a second acute embarrassment overshadowed the righteous anger and mistrust.

“Geez, leave him alone Cap’.” Wendy rolled her eyes at him, but nonetheless pushed herself off the hammock. “He’s just a kid.”

Strangely, his heart twisted almost with the urge to apologize. He squashed it.

Stan shook his head tiredly, before beginning to turn away. “Sure, whatever. Just don’t cause any trouble and we’ll see ya off at next port.”

Next port.

‘The girl can stay until next port’

Would the crew on the ship he and Mabel had stowed away on have already reached port and kicked her off? They should logically be not too far, since they’d kicked Dipper off at that island. He didn’t know how long he’d spent unconscious, but he hadn’t drank anything and wasn’t dead yet, so it couldn’t be longer than a few days at most. They could still be around.

But what if he wouldn’t be able to find Mabel in port? What if her ship and these pirates were headed to different ports? What if they were going in the wrong direction? He might never see his sister again. They could miss each other by less than a mile, and he couldn’t lose her too. She was all the family he had left.

“Wait!” Dipper yelled, lurching forwards so quickly that this time the hammock really did flip over, throwing him onto the floor. He scrambled up and ran after the captain. “I-!”

What was he even going to say? How was he supposed to convince a bunch of criminals to help him save his sister? They would never. Yes, they’d saved him from dying from thirst on some deserted island, but he’d all but been deposited right at their feet by fate or dumb luck or whatever. Picking him up and taking him on board was barely an inconvenience. How was he supposed to get them to go out of their way to track another ship just to help a complete stranger who couldn’t even pay them back?

They were pirates. No matter how nice Wendy had been to him and no matter how harmless Soos looked, pirates were bad. That was just one of the irrefutable facts of life. The sun shone, water was wet, pirates should hang.

A stone was dropped into his stomach at the last thought. Of Wendy and Soos facing that.

Pirates were bad.

Just remember what happened to your uncle.

But bad or not, these people were also the only people who could help him. Nobody else would go attack a legitimate merchant ship on the accusations of a twelve year old.

“I-... I know a ship you could raid! It’s nearby, I promise!”

The captain just kept walking as Dipper was tossed about by the swaying of the ship and nearly tripped over the junk on the floor in his attempts to keep up.

“No.” He answered simply and resolutely.

“No, you have to! I- I-!” Dipper frantically tried to find some excuse that might be incentive enough to go after the ship, but his frantic mind drew a blank. Another hard rocking of the ship threw him off his feet, and this time he remained on the ground. “I… I-... They have my sister.”

The captain stopped. He didn’t turn, but Dipper thought he could see his posture tense the smallest bit.

“Kid…”

“ Please .” Dipper pleaded. He had no idea what good it would do, but he’d made the captain stop at least. So he continued. “They took her, and I don’t know what I’m going to do without her. I- I can’t lose her, she’s all I have left and I can’t— I just can’t .”

He felt his voice crack with emotion. He could feel Soos and Wendy stare at him as he looked at the captains back and hoped for a miracle.

“She’s been there my whole life, she’s gotta be terrified— we’ve never been apart and…” He continued aimlessly, not sure if he was making his case or somehow just digging his own grave deeper. “She’s my twin.”

This time, Dipper was sure of it. Stan’s body tensed entirely, any attempt at keeping an aloof facade abandoned. He sighed the tension out of his shoulders and turned his head slightly, looking back at Dipper.

There was something strange in his eyes. An expression Dipper couldn’t for the life of him decipher.

“Soos, Wendy. Get the crew to their stations.” Any sudden softness left his eyes as he barked orders at the two others. “I guess today we’re playing heroes.” He looked back at Dipper, briefly, before turning and marching off with a swish of his black coat and beginning to loudly issue commands at passing crew as he went.

Soos’ large hands lifted Dipper back onto his feet, and patted the dust off his back before hurrying off after Stan.

“Yes Captain Pines!” He nodded resolutely.

Dipper gawked after them as they went. Stunned at having actually been listened to. But also…

No, there were probably plenty of people with the last name ‘Pines’.

Sorry for taking so long to get this through, work sucks. Anyway, I made a thing!