theitalianscribe:

Tau Holiday Special

For the purpose of this fic, I’m going to go with the idea that the Pines are Jewish and let’s say that Anna is Italian so the twins celebrate both Hanukkah and Christmas. In addition, there was a fanmade holiday special that said Quinton Tremblay banned Christmas in Gravity Falls due to his Claustrophobia. In this fic, that is cannon.

Twas the twins’ first winter in Gravity Falls, and Mabel was so ready to deck the halls.
She wanted to hang stockings on the chimney with care, but, alas, she cried, “Hey! I can’t find them anywhere!”
“Can’t find what?” Stan asked in response to her whine
“The stockings, Grunkle Stan, and the tinsel and twine
“You know, decorations,” Mabel said with a pout,
“Hey, where is Dipper? Come on, Bro! Help me out!”
With a prick of her thumb, Mabel wiped blood on the floor, and from the carved circle rose the dorky Alcor.
“Did you need to yell? I’d come when I was able?” Dipper rolled his eyes. “Anyway, what’s up…..orange?”

{Scrudge you, too! Bah, you’re no fun. Fine, but this isn’t over.}

“Huh?” Mabel tilted her head.
Dipper pointed to the fruit dangling from Mabel’s nick on a rope. There was a manora with one flame carved into the orange’s skin and the stem and bud had been wrapped in tin foil. Mabel inspected the fruit and beamed.
“Oh, this. I couldn’t find my ornament necklace so I improvised. Plus, I can have it as a snack later if I get hungry gift shopping. Speaking of ornaments,” Mabel turned to their relative, “Grunkle Stan do you have ornaments? Or any Christmas decorations?”
“No. I don’t do Christmas.”
“But you’re going to decorate the Shack, right? You must have some rivalry with the Gleefuls over having a better light show.”
“You bet your a..you bet I do! And with your brother’s help, this place will be covered in lights and snowmen. But the town doesn’t do Christmas either. It’s banned.”
“Wait, seriously?” Dipper disappeared for a moment and returned with a laptop covered in puffy paint and glitter glue. “Huh. Mabel, there’s a law in Gravity Falls against celebrating or even mentioning Christmas.”
“Really? Whose idea was that?”
Dipper scanned the screen and frowned. “It doesn’t say. I bet you a bag of gilt that it was Quinton Tremblay.”
“Psh! No way. White elephant gifts? ‘Ugly’ Christmas sweaters? Raindeer antler headbands? Door-to-door caroling? Breaking into houses to leave gifts? The holiday is a silliness extravaganza.”
“With you, any holiday is a silliness extravaganza,” Dipper countered, “Need I remind you of the turkey incident?”
“Please don’t. I’m still looking for a new turkey supplier.” Stan grumbled as he made his way to the library room.
“He just needed the full course experience. Waddles loved it,” Mabel ran up and grabbed her grunkle’s arm, “Can I use some leftover party supplies? This place should look extra inviting for Santa’s first visit.”
“Hate to break it to you, sweetie, but there’s no way I’m on the right list. Santa’s probably not coming. He’s never come here.”
“And he never will, if I have any say in it.” There was a booming voice, and moments later a man dressed in a coat and sweater stepped into the room. “I thought I smelled sulphur and pine cones,” Ford made his way to the circle and inspected the carving. “So the circle still works, even two days after it was carved.” He pulled out a notebook decorated with a foil hand marked 5 and began jotting down observations. “Did you experience anything different from the last time?”
“I can kind of taste cheese dust and glitter.”
“You’re welcome,” Mabel tossed a handful of cheese doodles in her mouth and grinned.
Dipper continued, “But the calls’ pull varied with the user.”
“Really? How so?”
“I can hear Mabel more clearly.”
“Because of her energy? Or is it related to how she can see you even without-”
“Grunkle Ford,” Mabel hopped between her brother and great uncle. “Do you believe in Santa?”
“Belief? That’s the reason the big red beast even exists.”
“You mean,” Mabel put on a big smile and her eyes practically dazzled, “Santa is real because kids like me believed in him hard enough?”
“Pretty much,” he set a firm hand on her shoulder, “But don’t beat yourself up over it.”
“Huh?”
“Well,” Ford removed his hand and dropped the pad and pencil in his coat pocket. “I’ve gathered my data. Now I’m off to observe the winter festivities or lack thereof among the supernatural natives.”
Ford was in the doorway by the time Stan called, “Hey, Poindexter! Go and do your research, or whatever, but be back here by 12; we have to call Mark and Anna and convince them that letting the kids spend the holidays here hasn’t led to them burning down buildings or starting cults or things like that.”
“But that may be when the feasts happen.”
“Do you really want to know what gnomes do with food? Wasn’t that beravenent jam enough?”
“Fair point. Very well. I’ll see you at 12.” Ford took another few steps before turning around and giving the kids a wave.
“And you,” Stan turned to the twins, “whatever trouble you plan to get into, make sure to keep the afternoon free. We call your parents at 12 and eat at 1.”
“You say trouble, we see adventure,” Mabel countered.
“But we’ll be sure to keep the time between 12 and 2 open for you,” Dipper added. “Now, since no deal was made, I’ve got to go. See you at 1.”
“I could always summon you for the call.” Stan pointed out, “But, eh, you don’t need more candy.”
With that, Stan left the twins to their devices. Dipper vanished from the circle and reappeared next to Mabel.
“I can’t believe our Grunkles aren’t excited for Santa.”
“Well, they don’t need to. Many adults in general don’t care that much, and Mom’s side of the family celebrates Christmas.”
“But Grunkle Stan doesn’t believe he deserves Santa and Great Uncle Ford doesn’t like Santa.”
“There’s probably a good reason for both.”
“Hush your treesionous mouth!”
“Was that a pun?”
“Celebrate it or not, everyone deserves to be happy on Christmas. And who better to spread cheer than a big, warm, fluffy, jolly man who wants nothing more than to give and eat cookies and milk?
"Christmas, and winter in general, is about getting together with your friends and family and fighting the cold with fun.”
As Mabel spoke, Dipper’s mind began to wonder. There was a pressure on his forehead, but when he tried to rub it, he yanked his finger away with a yelp at the pain he felt on his forehead. There was something wet on his face. He wiped it away and inspected his hand to find gold fluid. Then he winced his eyes shut at a sudden sharp, bright light.
A woman came into view. She had reddish brown hair in a bun, wore a blue pantsuit with a red cap pin on the brest pocket, and had the chocolate-brown eyes he and Mabel shared. … Mom?
Anna walked closer to his view and shook her head with a fond smile. Then her eyes locked straight into his view and her expression turned pained, then to a grimace, then to an uncertain smile. Her arms loomed toward him, and his view started to move. There was a thump and Dipper felt disoriented, but Anna didn’t react. In fact, she had disappeared from view. Dipper saw the world spin fast, then he saw his mother’s neck and shoulders behind a black sweater with a one-eyed gold-colored winged star. The center of the star’s eye matched with the center of his view. He only saw this reflection for a moment before it was replaced in a blur of silver with a closet filled with sweaters. His wiew spun once more, and then the sweater was sandwiched in darkness and he could see no more.
“Dipper? Are you okay?”
He opened his eyes to find Mabel staring back at him. Everything was higher than when he last opened his eyes, likely due to the fact that he was sitting on the cold wooden floor.
“I’m fine,” he rose to his feet and hovered a little to be at eye level, “I’m fine.” There was still darkness in his vision. He rearranged his hair to cover the spot that used to hold his birth mark and shifted his focus on the here and now. On Mabel. The darkness faded to an ignorable prominence. Much better.
“Where’s your…” His voice squeaked. “Did you bring your…me sweater?”
“Pft. Of course!” She waved her hand dismissively, “It’s in my luggage upstairs.”
“Are you sure?”
“Sure I’m sure.” They looked at each other for a silent moment. “Let’s check.”

The sweater was, in fact, not present.
“Huh. I could have sworn I brought it. How did you know I didn’t? Did you see it and not tell me?”
“What? No. I didn’t know you forgot it until…I think I saw through it.”
He waited for her to look at him funny, but she just nosed as if the final piece of a puzzel had turned up.
“That explains it.”
“Explains what?”
“You got this distant look in your eye a little bit ago. I thought you were just bored, but it looks like you just got some new psychic star powers.”

{AN: Arg! I’m running out of time on this one! Sigh, I’m going to do something I normally wouldn’t and leave in some plot points and skip to the last bit I have written. I want this to be posted in some coherent form by New Years. I’ll be on a plane coming home around then and time is weird for me. Of course, 20 hours flight time will be enough to finish it, but I’ll likely be playing Pokèmon Sun and watching movies for the majority of the time. I’ll post the finished version next year XD.]

Points:
Dipper discovers the star window power via Mabel’s Alcor sweater.
Mabel uses orders on her Etze (Etsy) store with the eyed star to spread out his windows so he can see if Santa visits anyone.
Dipper delivers the purchases in exchange for one gingerbread man per item delivered. The deal gives him the general knowledge of the areas, but he uses Gugal Maps to find each house.
One house contains adults that are abusive parents. Dipper marks it-not necessarily so he can see it better, but so he remembers marking it in case he call child services or something.
(Also, they are spending winter break at Gravity Falls on the condition that both Stans are there and they call every afternoon. Ford is investigating winter festivities of the supernatural creatures.)

Come Christmas, Dipper focused on each Window of Omnipresence, as he was tentatively calling it. Even with the practice he’d been doing with Mabel’s doodles on paper around the Shack, it was hard to focus on a single star, let alone multiple ones simultaneously. That is, until one in particular began radiating.
He couldn’t hear through the Windows, but he could still *feel* the screams of agony. Wait, agony? He could picture plastic green tree needles and gold light. This winged star must have been on an ornament. That narrowed down a bit. There was also something familiar…like a sort of deja vu, but not quite. Then a teen came into view. Her dark eyes widened at the child’s body spread on the floor. Laying in a pool of red that was far from the festive color. The teen mouthed something. A few words he could read on her lips were, “What,” “No,” and, “Santa?!”
A figure stepped forward with black boots. He indeed looked like the depictions Dipper was familiar with of the famous holiday idol, but his pants, coat, and hat were a shade of red that contained more brown than red. His hat was waving in a wind that hit nothing else in the room and every few seconds the design changed. The supposed Santa winked at the teen and brought a glowing-white-gloved finger to his mouth in a shushing motion that revealed snow-white teeth…no. Fangs. Those were pure white fangs shining through wine-red lips and an ash-grey beard. The robed man reached out a hand to pat the teen on her head and she froze. He took the opportunity to rub her head. Then, the figure turned to look directly at the tree and winked again. His hat flapped and changed to a shape and pattern that looked too much like the one Mable drew on her crayon portrait of Santa in first grade. The same drawing their parents proudly hung every year. With his unblinking eyes still locked toward the tree, the brown-red cloaked figure vanished in a puff of snow as white as the teen’s face was.
Dipper fell back with one hand clutched at his chest and the other rubbing his aching forehead. A pair of hands brushed his hair to cover the spot that once held his birthmark. A long red cap was pulled down to his eyes for good measure.
“Are you okay? Did…you saw him, right? What was he like?” He was expecting these questions, but he was expecting them to be asked with more vigor and while shaking him. Instead, Mabel’s words came out slowly, each word delaying the next.
Dipper tried speak, but the words stopped dead before his mind could even send them to his mouth. What could he say. Instead, he pushed himself against a couch. (Downstairs, they were in the living room downstairs of the Shack. Focus on the here and now.) He fell back and winced.
“Wait.” Mabel held out a hand. “Hot chocolate and blankets. We need warm drinks and cuddles. Then you talk. Deal?”
Giftmas

Dipper told his sister what he had seen. Mostly. He left out the more gruesome details.

“I think the Santa I know and love would want us to play it safe. Focus less on him and more on the spirit of giving…The Spirit of Giving! And I know just how to do that.”

Mabel wasn’t sure how much her position as chairman had on the rest of the country, but the Gravity Falls City Council was lax enough to glance at the authorization given by President Tremblay, shrug, and say it seemed legit. It also helped that she took part in saving the mayor from a life of petrification. She had enough sway to do what she wanted, which was to propose a new holiday.
“It’s called Giftmas,” she explained at a quickly-assembled meeting. “On December 25, you get together with your friends and loved ones, wear goofy sweaters, exchange gifts, and drink hot drinks. Oh! And it has a mascot!” Mabel walked to a whiteboard and scribbled a gift box with eyes. “This is Presenty the Present Box. Legend has it that he was brought to life by the Spirit of Giving wrapped up in his box.”
“Is he real?” Asked one weary council member.
“No,” Mabel slammed her hand on the whiteboard, “and it’s VERY important to be clear that he doesn’t exist. But you can let his spirit live on by giving at least one meaningful gift. Be it something you know someone needs but can’t get, or spending the day with someone lonely.”
Mabel left the room while the council members had a discussion and voted. Tyler told her that they were not sure, but at lunch that day a rock smashed through the window and onto the table. It was wrapped in a sheet of paper with only one word, “APPROVED!”
The next day, a notice was posted stating that the town would be celebrating Giftmas…on New Years Eve. Starting next year, Giftmas would be on the same day as Christmas. This year, however, they would celebrate it a little later to make sure it was celebrated correctly. Mabel didn’t really mind. Doulble holiday celebration? Double the fun!
And fun it was. Mabel dumped out her luggage on her bed, stuffed it with sweaters, loaded the luggage in the golf cart, and rode around town with Dipper to deliver the sweater. Most were the product of a pair of enchanted hyper-fast knitting needles (an early belated-giftmas present from her brother) and a movie marathon. Each friend received a sweater, and gifts were traded as well. Warm drinks were enjoyed, stories were told over warm fires, and many sweets consumed. Then, toward the end of the day, there was the sound of approaching clopping. Dipper floated to the door, but Mabel woelrdlessly opened the window that was duct taped together. In hopped Quinton Tremblay himself.

{AN: sorry, guys. I’m going to have to cliff note this part.}
Tremblay’s presents for Mabel:
A stuffed moose, a bag of needles, and a cookbook.
For Dipper: a bat, ring, and gardening supplies.