@awesomecat42 said:
Can we see more of Alcor and the DD&mD group? Alcor as a bard is a thing that Needs To Happen (in my opinion).
(The D, D, & MD group is introduced on ch 45, Dungeons and Demons.)
Halfway through writing this, I realized I could have written up part
of their campaign. Guess who has learned – and now is going to learn
more – about D&D so they can write part of the adventures of the
Demonic D, D, & More D group’s campaign someday. (It’s on the infamous list.)
What makes a cult?
There was the dictionary definition, of course, but some people had a much wider definition.
And, Mark reflected, looking over the group seated around his table,
he and his group sure as hell didn’t worship a demon, didn’t match any
of the other criteria for a cult, but the amount of time they spent
around a certain demon surely would mark them as a cult if people found
out, despite the lack of reverence they showed him.And it certainly wouldn’t help the reputation of Dungeons, Dungeons,
and More Dungeons if people found out how much Alcor the Dreambender
enjoyed the game.Or maybe it would. Who knew. The people who played D, D, & More D tended to be an odd bunch.
Plus, the benefits to having a demon as part of your group were not to be lightly cast aside.
Especially one who could be easily bribed, even if he needed reined in at times.
“Right – everybody ready?” he asked the group at hand. “We’re going
hardcore this week. Adam, you good? I know you were sick last week.”“I am so ready!” Adam declared. “Thanks for keeping it low key for me last week, though.”
“No prob. Okay, here goes. Al, do your thing.”
Alcor grinned, and the world around them faded away into blue and purple sparkles.
“You found a nice young man honey.”
Mabel, joining her mother in the door way, nodded.
“I think so too.”
The subject under discussion was currently engrossed by the information scrolling on the TV, Dad having hooked up his computer to the box to take advantage of the bigger screen. Both men were locked in quiet discussion, completely ignoring the world around them.
“What are they working on again?” her Mom asked.
Another person, another time, and Mabel would have simply summed it up as “boring nerd stuff.” But now, she screwed her face up trying to remember, remember, remember- oh!
“Something to do with book digitization and putting the older stuff in the library online!” Mabel said proudly, thinking about the long hours she and Henry had put in with the overhead scanner that Grunkle Stan had probably not stolen at the Shack.
Mom smiled. “You really do like him, don’t you?”
“I think he’s it. For realsies this time, he’s it.”
Mom took a sip of coffee. They watched Henry and her Dad continue to scroll through the data on the screen.
“Have you told him yet? About your brother?”
“Of course I did! Dipper met Henry the same time I did! They got along just great and-”
“And he still stayed with you?”
As soon as it was out of her mother’s mouth, Mabel could tell that she regretted saying it, that she hadn’t meant to sound unkind.
But it was still there in the air, lingering.
Mabel shook as a chill danced up her spine, the kitchen of her childhood suddenly losing it’s warmth.
“Yes. He did.”
The same squeaking kitten sneezing dork that he usually sounds like though there’s an undertone in his voice; not quite an echo but there’s something… off.
It takes some getting used to. Mark and Anna never could manage it, and though Henry did his best to hide it, the first two months living in the house, Dipper’s voice managed to raise goosebumps on his skin every time Dipper talked.
(the triplets never have that problem-sense memory of the double vibration of dipper’s voice in the womb-)
Happy 2nd birthday, TAU! And me only a day late with my fic, yay!
This is from the prompt “Mark and Anna try.“ Minor spoiler warning for Journal #3 (really just Dipper’s real name being used by someone who didn’t know him and wouldn’t be aware of his preference).
—
Anna Pines was in the living room balancing her checkbook when she heard the front door open.
Technically, she’d already worked out finances for the month – she liked to keep on top of these things – and had already double-checked the whole thing yesterday, so this was a bit obsessive even for her. But about an hour ago a breaking news article had popped up on her web feed, showing images of a family of tourists that had been discovered turned to stone outside Mt. Rushmore (a gorgon was suspected), and, well…suddenly she’d found the need for some nice, distracting busy work.
It was around the time Mabel usually got home from school, so the door opening didn’t raise any red flags in Anna’s head. What did register was the sound of her teenage daughter stomping up the stairs without even calling a greeting, followed by the understated, I am a blossoming young woman and do not throw childish tantrums I simply desire the world to know that I have beef with it, not-quite-slamming of Mabel’s bedroom door.
Anna sighed, tapping her pen compulsively against the table as she began the usual mental debate of whether to go up and try to find out what was wrong, or just assume that Mabel needed some alone time.
Probably not actually alone, of course; if she was upset Dipper would probably be with her. He usually went to and from school with his sister, or so Mabel assured them. (And so Anna gathered from the multiple well-meaning teachers and counselors who asked in concerned whispers if she and Mark were getting their daughter therapy or grief counseling, citing incidents of conversations with thin air and defiant insistences that the empty seat next to her was taken.)
Coming to a decision, Anna determinedly set down her checkbook and pen and headed upstairs, steeling herself and hoping that she wasn’t about to make things worse.
Close friends and family see Dipper’s object form for the first time.
Mabel
Mabel stared at her brother, blinking slowly. He blinked back with a single eye, tiny little pipe cleaner arms shifting restlessly.
This was new.
Part of Mabel was screaming, huddling down inside her sweater, memories of a a triangle and her brother’s screams echoing inside her head.
The rest was seeing through her brother’s bravado, his attempt at pretending everything was okay, as if he wasn’t upset about this development.
“…you think this is permanent?” she asked after a few minutes had passed, needing to say something but this time worried about saying something that would send both of them spiraling out of control and knowing she had to be the adult in this situation despite their parents being just downstairs because they wouldn’t be any help right now and that wasn’t fair to her but it was the truth.
The joking could come later, to make them both feel better.
“No, I’m just too tired to stay human shaped,” her brother answered, thankfully, both of them relieved by his answer. “I think how I usually look is my default form now, and this is sort of…a power saving mode? I’m still working on the details.”
Mabel nodded as Dipper spoke, doing her best to hide how freaked she’d been. He could see her moods now, faintly, so he had to know, but it didn’t mean she had to be obvious about it. Now that she was calming down, though…well…her brother was pretty cute as a star.
But he was also still pretty obviously upset about this. Well, that couldn’t stand! It was time to unleash the Power of Mabel!
“Wait here, broseph,” she said, gesturing with both hands outspread. “Just hang out in here and wait.”
Impatiently, and more than a little nervously, Dipper waited. He knew Mabel loved and accepted him, but…what ifs kept playing through his mind, and he began to float back and forth across the room, the closest he could come to pacing while like this.
This was going to be a long wait.
Bill has been destroyed, the Transcendence has made fantasy real across the globe, and the Pines twins are finally returning home to Piedmont. Widespread existence of magic and myth has taken its toll on the world, but the worst is over and a bright future is ahead.
Things are finally looking up. Normalcy finally seems to be settling back in, that is, until Dipper falls violently ill.Foul play is suspected. Things only go downhill from there.
This is my take on an origins fic! I started it quite a while ago but only picked it up again quite recently. I don’t think I’ve ever posted it to this blog so… I dunno if I’m doing this right, not gonna lie. ¯_(ツ)_/¯
Lost to the sands of time.
Perhaps there’s a whisper here or there. They probably come up for anyone doing the genealogy of the Pines family.
But they made a decision that they wanted nothing to do with Dipper and Mabel’s new world. They obviously didn’t think of it like that, didn’t mean any harm by that.
But they let the weird and strange pass them by, and as such, so did time.
Oh dude yeah like by one hundred bazillion percent.
They probably didn’t see it or know about it early on, really – it’s not a form Dipper takes frequently, and it might not have been a form he discovered/took early on. It is possible that Mabel might have sent them a picture at one point or another that included Dipper “doing his shape-shifty thing, isn’t he cute?” but by then there might not have been much of a reaction, assuming most of the initial confusion/uncertainty had passed – it’d be just another thing which Dipper can do now, another thing they could not have expected but, honestly, how could they expect anything anymore?
After that, there’s just not a great deal of interaction for them to “warm up to it” in. They accept the knowledge that their son can shift into a little star-form as they learned to accept the knowledge that their son had become a demon. It’s simply a fact and it’s simply there, a little weird and perhaps a little cute despite that.
So, no, no Pines haunted Christmas Tree Stars for Mark and Anna, I’m afraid.
backup 