ᶜᵃᵍᵉ;

As Mabel’s appendage was ripped off, she could only whimper. No doubt she was losing a lot of blood and fast. She tried glancing at Dipper, but her vision was too blurry. She could hear yelling in the distance, but it sounded awfully muffled. Her eyelids drifted shut, and then… she was out like a light. 

A handful of the townspeople were at the twins’ sides, attempting to lessen the damage and clean them both up. Then, they were picked up and brought back inside the fence toward safety. Thankfully, the creature had been struck down and killed before it could have done more to either of the twins.

It wasn’t until later that evening Mabel became conscious once again. The brunette’s eyes slowly fluttered open and she blinked a couple times as she tried regaining her focus. Her body was in pain. Her head ached. She felt cruddy.

… where was Dipper?

Where was she?

She could barely move without grimacing. “O-ow…” Something was off, she could tell. Mabel just wasn’t sure exactly what. "Dip… Dipper…?"

Upon waking, Dipper could not remember if he had been plagued by nightmares. In fact, for a moment, neither could he recall what had happened before he'd blacked out. He could, at first, only remember the scent of blood and grass, both of which he could still taste on his tongue. The rest came back to him only in pieces, fragments flashing behind his eyes and making him dizzy; barbed metal, pounding hammers. Screaming. Brittle bone. Snapping, ripping, tearing- Mabel. Dipper jolted upright, stomach twisting into knots, vision blurry as he struggled to take in his surroundings. Mabel- - something had happened to his twin. Aching arms desperately reached out, blindly, trembling fingers grasping at whatever lay in reach as if hoping to find his sister beside him. He felt something soft underneath, a blanket, maybe. Shaking hands knocked something cold to the ground, likely off of a table, and as it shattered to his side he felt his heart racing. His foggy vision went black. Had he passed out again? No- a shadow had moved in front of him. When he felt hands grasp his shoulders he impulsively reached out, searching for the warmth and comfort of familiar skin. Only when his eyes focused, however, did he realize that it was not his sister he was clutching. It was only a volunteer nurse. The look in her eyes when he released her was enough to make his blood freeze. He was inside one of the makeshift hospital rooms near the center of town. Now that he was waking he could smell disinfectant and sick. And blood. Always blood. But it wasn't in his head now, and he was afraid to turn and look around. Nothing could prepare him. There was nothing the nurse could have said. When he finally dared to glance at the occupied bed to his left, it made him ill. - - - He would not leave her. Not for anything. The rest of the town could have crawled to the windows, clawing, begging for help, but he wouldn't have left Mabel's bedside. Dipper said nothing, motionless as needles pricked at his arms by inexperienced hands, sapping as much blood from him as the "doctors" could possibly get without putting him in the same situation as his sibling. She had lost too much blood, and it was such a precious substance these days- donors were uncommon in times like these. Of course, Dipper would have gladly drained himself dry for her, but they wouldn't let him. In the back of his mind he knew that they were doing everything they could for her, but it didn't stop him from being so angry, or from feeling so sick as he studied her patched wound for hours. Dipper couldn't tell if nearly her entire leg had been ripped off or if they'd had to amputate what had been left; the work was so shoddy either way. They had stopped the bleeding, but what of infection? What if the creature had been venomous? What about how Mabel would feel when she saw her hideous injury? Hours felt like years. For the first time in weeks Dipper didn't- couldn't- drift into thought. Surely no coincidence. It had to be some sick, twisted work of fate, to leave him in reality to face something like this.  It was a blessing when he finally heard her voice, but it still made him want to be sick again. "Mabel!" His voice cracked and he abruptly sat upright on the edge of her bed, reaching out to softly place his hand on hers. He had to choke down the urge to squeeze her in his arms and there was no room for shame when wetness trickled down his cheeks, smile as relieved as it was delirious. He might have sat there for an eternity, were she never to have awoken. Seeing her in motion felt like a huge weight had been lifted off his shoulders. "You're- - s-shit- I thought... I.."

ᶜᵃᵍᵉ;

Please, let this work! I can’t let Dipper die… 

If his blood was on her hands, she wouldn’t be able to live with it. She paused to see the creature move off of her twin. It seemed pretty angry now, and before Mabel could strike with the hammer again… she felt it.

The monster had latched its mouth onto her right leg firmly, and wasn’t intent of letting go. Pain shot through her body, but for some reason, Mabel didn’t scream or cry out. Her face blanched, her eyes locking onto the horrible beast. She felt paralyzed, she couldn’t move.

A moment later, she was on her side, her head striking the ground hard. Her vision was growing blurry once more, and the hammer dropped from her hands. She wanted to continue fighting the creature, to force it to remove its mouth, but she felt weak. That, and the fact she was going into shock. She couldn’t speak, couldn’t yell.

… at least she saved Dipper.

Teeth like needles shredded through the girl's skin, piercing down to the bone as if her flesh were nothing more than butter to a knife. Blood and black sludge smeared along the grass and when one of the workers was able to stab the beast in the side with a rusty pitchfork it howled, thick gunk oozing and bubbling from the wound, shout legs buckling underneath it in the mud. It turned to its new assailants, but not in a way the workers might have hoped. It thrashed and ripped its head backwards, jaws still deep in its prey's leg.  The last thing Dipper remembered before blacking out was the sound of snapping bone somewhere close by and the warm sensation of blood splattering over his face. The beast was losing this fight fast, but it'd already done its damage. It hissed and screeched and was forced backwards as more townspeople rushed with weapons in tow, leaving it too occupied to notice a couple individuals running to the twins' aid. Only when a bullet was put through its skull did it finally fall, a mangled mess against the barbed wire and wooden stakes, one shoe hanging from its agape maw. In his unconsciousness, Dipper could only hear histerical laughter.

Feels right at home

Fish pumped his shotgun a second time, aiming into the woods to see if he can get a good shot at this bastard. He looked around feverishly, he couldn’t let this thing get away. Soon enough, he heard something right behind him. The crackling of branches and large footsteps. As if he didn’t already have enough to deal with. Fish quickly turned around, to see that something was heading his way. Something with red, beady eyes, a large maw of tusks, covered in hair and stomping it’s way towards him. Just great.

Fish knew he’d have to turn his back on whatever tried to attack him first. Hell, it only had a small axe from what he could see. It’s better to pay attention to the bigger problem at hand than the smaller one. Literally and figuratively. Fish than fired off another shot, this time towards the monster. The bullet had hit the monster straight in the chest, and it let out an agonizing roar of pain. If the gun fire didn’t attract anything else, the roar sure as hell would.

Not like this wasn’t something Fish wasn’t used to. Oh no, this has happened far too many times before. Monsters around every corner, everything out for your blood, as said before, utter chaos. It was something he was used to. Something he’d prepared for. Something that was oddly comforting. Soon enough, Fish had a big grin on his face. One that almost said, yeah roar you fat bastard. Call your other friends. I’m fuckin’ counting on it.

Fish pumped his shotgun again, ready to shoot the monster again, or anything else that would show their ugly mugs. Fish felt alive. Whenever he was thrown into confrontation like this, he had a rush of adrenaline and was ready for anything. And this is a mutant who’s dealt with a Three Headed  Giant Mechanical Junkyard Dog. So he felt that he was truly ready for anything. His smile was going fin-to-fin, showing his razor sharp teeth. This was gonna be fun.

The next bang made Dipper flinch, but it only took him a second to realize that the bullet had not hit the tree, nor had it flown past him. In fact, what he heard instead was the bellow of some beast, a roar that made the boy's ears ring and almost seemed to shake the ground underfoot. It was foolish, but he had to see what had happened. The boy peered from around the trunk, tentatively, holding his breath and prepared to lurch back, were he to see the barrel of that gun pointed right at his face. But he didn't. What he saw, in fact, was so unexpected, he found himself gawking dumbly. He'd seen plenty of monsters, but he'd never seen them attack each other before. In fact, Dipper had always suspected that they coexisted without issue- they only seemed interested in hunting humans and forest animals for sport. They had no reason to go after each other. But here this thing was, shotgun in its webbed hands, ready to take another shot at the giant tusked beast that clearly was no friend. Dipper was flabbergasted. Exactly what was this aquatic little gremlin? This would have been the perfect moment for an escape. Both of the beasts were distracted and it was only a matter of time before another overheard the commotion and came to check it out. After all, just because the fish creature was attacking the other monster didn't automatically mean it wasn't a threat. For all Dipper knew, it could be just as vicious and feral as every other beast out here, waiting to eat him or skin him alive or goodness knows what. If it wasn't, though- if it was some new sort of monster they didn't know about yet, some kind of significantly intelligent creature- then Dipper felt obligated to find out. It was stupid, it was probably a death wish, but what had he done lately that wasn't reckless or life endangering? Dipper took a deep breath and, fingers tightly gripping the old pistol in his hand, stepped out from behind the tree. He raised his hand and closed one eye. Bang. Bang. Bang.  Three shots at the hairy beast's head. One struck it in the neck, the other right in its ugly face. Green blood splattered and it howled, teetering backwards and struggling to stay on its feet. Blinded by its own wounds, it swiped out with its clawed fingers, but it missed both targets by yards. Branches cracked and scraped its head, only making it more desperate to attack its assailants. 

ᶜᵃᵍᵉ;

Hearing the creature’s snarls only made Mabel attempt to run faster. Pretty soon though, her legs were burning and she felt exhausted. She wasn’t even sure where they were headed or how long they’ve been running, but… w-wait, was Dipper slowing down?

She looked over at her brother and gasped, watching in horror as the monster grew closer. When Dipper tumbled, so did she. Mabel grunted as she landed roughly on her side, feeling the wind getting knocked from her lungs. In the next moment, her vision blurred.

Blinking her eyes a couple of times, she tried fixing her gaze onto Dipper. She spotted the thing, whatever it was, on top of him. Panic was setting in, so were her survival instincts and the need to protect her twin. She staggered upright and looked around frantically for Dipper’s hammer.

Mabel rushed forward and nabbed it then drew in a shaky breath. This was probably a very stupid move or a very brave one, but she couldn’t let it kill Dipper. She wouldn’t be able to live with herself. Stepping toward the slimy creature, she took a few hard swings at its face with the hammer before aiming a couple sharp kicks to its side.

"G-get OFF him!"

Dipper couldn't hope to struggle. He couldn't see, couldn't hear- the voices in his mind only laughed and screamed over the roar of his own heartbeat. Part of him wondered if he was already dead. All he could feel now was pressure, a crushing, smothering sensation that left  him unable to move or breathe. And there was the fear. Dipper was terrified, not even so much for himself, but for the town, for his sister, for everything and everyone who would be left behind to deal with the mess he'd helped to create. It would seem only fitting that he'd be stuck with the guilt for eternity. No doubt that the dream demon would make sure of it. One voice stood out among the others. It wasn't jeering or whimpering, it was Mabel, but she sounded so far away, as if through water. Dipper couldn't even be sure it was really her, but it brought him comfort nonetheless. He tried to move, to speak, but weight held him down and ooze trapped his lips. God, he was dead, and the last thing Mabel would remember of him was that he had been ignoring her. Oh, Mabel.. Of course, Dipper wasn't really dead. Not yet. The eel-like creature on top of him hardly seemed concerned about his existence, its beady yellow eyes focused on the other townsfolk in the distance. Its head bobbed side to side on its long neck, massive jaws parted to reveal dozens of sharp, spiny teeth. Mabel, a smaller target, had not yet caught its attention; at least, until she took a hammer to the beast's wrinkled face. It howled as the first hit struck its eye, head thrashing, heavy neck whipping towards the girl to try and knock her down. If nothing else, Mabel succeeded in her task; the beast reared and turned to her, removing its weight off Dipper's upper half. Even if he hadn't still been pinned, however, it was unlikely he'd have been able to move much; he wheezed and choked on the monster's black slime, temporarily blinded and stunned. A couple workers were finally close enough to aid them, but one or two jabs to the back only helped to enrage the creature further for now. It howled and hissed and spat and lashed at the workers with its tail, but it was preoccupied with one pesky matter for now. Its gaze trained on Mabel for perhaps a second- one eye iridescent and yellow, the other oozing with dark blood- and with unparalleled speed it struck.

"I would like to say I can help you- but I don’t think anyone can save you people now, Child."

( piined )

Dipper had grown accustomed to hearing things that others didn't. Seeing things? He wasn't quite at that stage of unstable yet, but it really wouldn't have surprised him. That said, one really mustn't think of him too terribly for the way he reacted to the appearance of a small, foreign girl. Or, rather, the way he didn't. Oh, he definitely gave her a look, a bit of an uncomfortable stare as he passed her, but he kept walking nonetheless, wooden stakes hoisted over his shoulder. It wasn't until a few more steps that he stopped and looked back, blinking a couple times, eyes darting around the area as if to see whether or not anyone was seeing what he was seeing. But there was nobody else in the area to see her. She was so very out of place, an anomaly, and Dipper might have believed her to be a monster if he weren't so unsure of her existence. As it was, the boy only shifted on his feet, uncertainty in his gaze. "...Are you talking to me?"

ᶜᵃᵍᵉ;

Mabel’s breath caught in her throat. She glanced back at her twin, taking note of his body movements. She wanted to protest, to stand beside him and not behind him, but she realized it wouldn’t be smart to argue at the moment. Especially if there was a creature nearby. Her body was tense, her legs glued to the spot as she waited.

She hadn’t even brought her own weapon along, foolishly leaving her bow and arrows behind. Probably wasn’t the best choice as weapons went, but it was a weapon she felt remotely comfortable with.

Going eerily silent, she focused on listening for the slightest sounds. Then… she heard it. A crack. She was about to speak, but Dipper beat her to it, uttering just two words. ‘Let’s go’. It’d been said with urgency, and Mabel figured they didn’t have long before whatever did make the cracking noise was upon them.

Perhaps, if things were different, she would have been more curious. But these weren’t ‘cutesy’ critters one usually spotted while out in the forest. These were horrifyingly gruesome figures that wouldn’t hesitate to rip out someones’ throat if they had the chance.

She clumsily stumbled backward and grasped onto his hand, clutching it tight. Mabel bit her lip and nodded firmly before breaking off into a run, dragging her twin with her.

Running may not have been the wisest option. Their motion only alerted whatever was out there that they were prey, that they were something worth chasing. Branches cracked and leaves rustled as something lunged from the woods, releasing a guttural snarl as it slammed into the fence with enough force to rattle the stakes. The few townsfolk working along the fence began to shout, scattering, some running off and a couple trying to grab for any tool that could be used as a weapon. Dipper only dared look over his shoulder when the beast bellowed, a roar that seemed to shake the very ground. He wished he hadn't. What he noticed first was that it was fast. It slid over the top of the fence, only enraged by the barbed wire slicing its dark flesh. It was almost snakelike, long- massive- but slick instead of scaled, and Dipper was sure it had limbs, because it didn't quite slither along the grass. From what he could tell, anyway. It was hard to make out much of anything about the beast as it hurtled towards them. Dipper had never seen something move so quickly in his life, let alone something so large. It was on them like the crack of a whip, claws, or maybe teeth, raking against Dipper's back with enough force to send him falling flat on his face, fingers clumsily releasing the grip on his sister. Everything was a black blur, dark, foul slime oozing from the thing's skin and nearly taking the very air from his lungs. It could have surely bitten off his head in a second, but its attention seemed to be elsewhere.  A couple workers were running to the twin's aid, but they may as well have been trying to run through water. They'd never get there fast enough. The thing's weight alone was crushing- Dipper struggled to free his arms, slick fingers reaching for the hammer that had fallen just out of reach.  Just a little further...

ᶜᵃᵍᵉ;

Finally, they were getting somewhere.

It wasn’t like Mabel didn’t notice Dipper’s mental state or his bizarre eye. She wasn’t exactly sure when his eye started looking like that, but it worried her. Couldn’t really take him to the doctor’s though, considering how everything was now. She wanted to ask him about it. She’d wait to do that though.

"I know how you feel, Dipper. I mean… I feel tired a lot of the time. Drained, y’know? I don’t have as much energy as before. And… yeah, everything does feel fake. I wish things were normal. I want things to be normal." Her eyes softened, "Hearing stuff, huh? I think a lot of people do."

She knew things weren’t going to go back to normal, but it was nice to hold onto hope.

"If we—" Wait a second. Mabel’s expression changed, her pupils shrinking to the size of pinpricks. "You hear that?" It could have been anything, and it could have been nothing. Perhaps her mind was playing tricks on her, but she thought she heard something. Her body stiffened. They should get back.

"Let’s go. Ignore me, it was probably nothing."

Dipper wasn't so sure that his sister understood what he'd been trying to say, but, frankly, he was almost relieved. The last thing he wanted was for Mabel to think he was a mental case. He was suppose to protect her, to watch out for her- that was all he was any good for. But how could she possibly ever feel safe around him if she knew that he couldn't even help himself anymore? No. He would not lie to her, but neither would he tell her anything she didn't need to know. That was a fair compromise. The concern in her voice when Mabel spoke up again stopped Dipper from drifting off in thought yet again. He stared at her, studying the fear in her eyes, before he turned to look towards the fence, straining to listen for anything over the light rain still sprinkling down through the fog. The silence coming from the woods was always so strange, so uncanny, but now even those voices in his mind had faded, leaving only the soft sound of workers off in the near distance and rain pattering into the mud. "Probably," he murmured, focus shifting, gaze trained on a patch of forest he could see through a crack between fence posts. Rigidly, he crept forward, holding one hand back to gesture for his twin to stay put. With his other, his fingers skimmed his belt, feeling for a weapon, for any little safety net that could bring him comfort. No, he only had on his person a hammer- he'd foolishly left everything else back at the shack, and now he felt naked, vulnerable. Nevertheless he took the hammer into his hand. Anything was better than nothing. No movement. Then, a crack. Dipper lurched back, grabbing at his sister protectively. "Let's go."

Feels right at home

Fish heard something. He didn’t know what it was, but he heard something. He pumped his shotgun, ready for combat. He began to move a tad slower, his march slowing down to that of a small tip-toe. He crept forward, that was until he saw the whites of someones eyes, and the swinging of an axe. He knew it.

Fläshyn.

Fish quickly rolled backwards, and fired into the attackers general direction. Fish knew it couldn’t be this simple. Ending up in a wasteland, with nothing around? Bullshit. He knew something would attack. That something would be out for his blood. To kill him, experiment on him, or just end his journey to the Nuclear Throne. There always had to be something. And he knew this. He knew that everyone and their fuckin’ grandmothers would try to murder him. And he’d have to be ready for it.

He’d never seen something like this, however. He had no idea what was trying to attack him. He could only get a slight glimpse of his attacker. But he didn’t care. You attack Fish, he attacks back. With no mercy.

Bang. That was one sound Dipper hadn't expected to hear. The noise echoed through the trees and rang in his ears and it was only sheer luck that the bullet missed, rocketing right past his ear and into a tree to his left. As splinters of wood rained onto the forest floor, a flash of panic dizzied the boy's mind. Monsters didn't know how to use weapons. They couldn't. They couldn't. Bad enough the beasts were, without being able to arm themselves with all sorts of dangerous tools. If they could pick up a gun, then that was it- every damn human back home didn't stand a chance. And this thing- whatever it was- was definitely not human.  He had no time for hesitation. That shotgun was a problem. One good shot could blow off his arm or his head and he'd die out here, a little snack for whatever other creatures were lurking around: and by the noise of that gunshot, Dipper would have been very surprised if every monster within hearing range hadn't been attracted to the area immediately. One spook with a gun was bad enough, but more and Dipper knew he'd be mincemeat.  Fighting a shotgun at close range would be suicide. The boy lunged backwards and dove behind the thick trunk of the pine that the last bullet had lodged itself in, pressing his back to the bark with the hatchet tightly held at his chest. Dipper struggled to catch his breath, small puffs of breath coiling into the air. His free hand snaked down to rest upon the handgun at his belt. He was a horrid shot. How could he ever even get a chance to aim without getting a bullet through his head? Shit. Branches cracked back behind the armed creature. No doubt, Dipper could only assume, one of its monster friends, coming to see what all this fuss was about. He wiped the sweat off his brow with the back of his hand, craning his neck to try and listen without daring to actually look around the tree. If he let them flank him, it'd be over.

ᶜᵃᵍᵉ;

… he hadn’t been listening. That’s what Mabel gathered when she noticed his expression shift to something entirely different. He looked utterly terrified. The brunette lifted a hand and began messing with her braid, her eyes still locked onto her brother.

Should she repeat herself? No, that wouldn’t do any good. Instead, she drew in a deep breath and watched him, studying his face intently. “You aren’t okay.” It was more of a statement rather than a question. “Dip, talk to me! It’s not like I’m gonna tell someone. We NEED to talk to each other! Who else do we have to rely on?”

Mabel lowered her eyes, “It’s nice to see you too. But is that REALLY all you have to say to me? Why’d you take me out here, away from everyone else? Clearly, there’s something we do need to talk about.”

The rain wasn’t bothering her too much; it was dying down a bit so that it was only sprinkling. The mud was beginning to wash away from her face and hands. Her gaze flickered back to Dipper. He looked tired. Tired, and so anxious. Mabel wanted to draw him in for a hug, but she felt it would startle him too much and he would push away.

Part of her was telling her that this was foolish and her brother was a lost cause. The other part, the bigger part, was saying that he needed her just as much as she needed him right now. So, she stayed where she was, her arms slowly starting to fold across her chest.

No. I'm not okay. Nothing is okay. If only he could say it aloud. It was hard enough to realize that he wasn't alright, let alone everything else. But, perhaps he could start slow. Take one step at a time. It was easier to walk than to run, after all- and that little voice in the back of his mind knew he needed Mabel to be there to lean on. It was simply non-negotiable. Even in a world where everything felt wrong, he had to place his trust in something. He needed his twin. If there was anything that could keep him anchored to reality, anything that was worth going through hell for- it was her. It was damn time to wake up and act like it. "I'm not feeling well." It was a start. Lying to Mabel would benefit neither of them in this situation. As the rain died down, Dipper reached up to take off his cap, running fingers through curls of oily hair. Silence followed for only a few breaths, and then he continued, "I have such a hard time focusing. I'm nauseous. Everything feels... fake. Half the time I don't know whether or not I'm still asleep, and I always hear.." He trailed off. There was no good way to tell his sister that he was hearing voices. His hand lowered, fingers brushing the skin around his left eye. He'd first noticed its golden iridescence in a puddle days earlier, as well as the unnatural bruise surrounding it. It didn't hurt, he supposed- it was more sensitive, like an old scar- but it had spread since blackout day. Now it was veiny and black and, if he looked at just the right angle, it almost seemed to form a suspicious isosceles shape. He gritted his teeth. Dipper would never forget the memory of that demon's cackle. Now he couldn't look in the mirror without seeing it on his own face. "...Things."

Feels right at home

The apocalypse.

Something Fish was very accustomed to at this point. People screaming in agony. Monsters around every corner, ready to strike at any time. Everything and everything being a potential threat. It was something he was used to. He’s lived in this sort of hell almost his entire life. So it wasn’t anything new. The portal must have teleported him to some sort of Wasteland. It was about time. He needed to make some sort of progress in finding the Nuclear Throne. And now was a better time than ever. He was ready. He had his shotgun in his hands, prepared if anything was going to strike.

However, something was…different about this particular Wasteland. The abundance of trees, the lack of any enemies thus far, and the foreboding feeling that he felt. It was different. Usually when he was sent to a Wasteland, it’d be immediate danger. Bandits everywhere, bullets flying left and right, utter chaos. However this felt more, quietly sinister. As if someone was watching, waiting for the perfect moment to strike. Fish wasn’t afraid, however. Only unsettled. He was prepared for anything to attack him. He knew, that eventually, something would attack. There was no question about it.

Fish simply kept marching forward, looking left and right periodically, just in case he saw something out of the corner of his eyes. However everything was, quiet. Almost too quiet if you asked him. Something was going on. And Fish would be damned if he wasn’t going to find out.

Being out alone in normal woods was a bad enough idea for a young boy, but to do the same in times like these, in areas of such high monster activity? It was simply something that no sane young man would do- which explained very well why that boy happened to be Dipper. Not that he thought much of it. Somebody had to be out there facing this disaster firsthand. Sitting around waiting to be slaughtered could only be so productive. If there was any hope, they had to strike first. If only the rest of the townsfolk saw it the way he did, if only they understood that - - That we're all going to die, and it's your fault. He gritted his teeth, ducking his head to avoid a low branch. Focus. Letting himself get carried away with thoughts could be one dangerous game out here. He'd seen how fast some of the creatures in this forest could move firsthand, whether in the trees or in a house. Dipper was even certain he'd seen one in the sky several nights ago. Oh, how he hoped he hadn't. What was left of Gravity Falls could hardly hold up as it was. An aerial attack? They'd be utterly defenseless. The soft crackling of foliage ahead made Dipper's gaze snap forward, body going as rigid as a deer. Immediately his right hand shot to the grip of the hatchet on his belt, the left to the rusty old pistol his uncle had gifted him back on blackout day. Something was moving up ahead through the tangled overgrowth. It didn't seem to be stalking, but it was nearing him nonetheless, and that was enough to set Dipper on full alert. He slipped the small axe from his belt and, gripping the rubber tightly enough to turn his knuckles white, he lurched forward through the brush, lashing out with the blade. Whether or not he had the element of surprise on his side, he wasn't certain, but damn if he was going to sit around like the others and wait to be picked off like pigs for slaughter.

ᶜᵃᵍᵉ;

Once Dipper started talking again, she let out a sigh in relief. At least he wasn’t going to ignore her. She was always terrified of that happening, and she wasn’t sure if she would have ever been able to handle it. Not being able to talk to your best friend was one of the worst feelings in the world. Well… according to Mabel, it was.

She stood up and silently followed after her brother, unsure of where he was even leading her. Not too far away, but not too close to any prying eyes or anything. The brunette glanced left and right before focusing her eyes back onto Dipper. The look he was giving her made her grow rigid; she’d seen that look many times before. And it was a look she often gave him. 

Mabel raised a hand to her face, attempting to brush off some of the mud that was caked to her cheek from earlier. As much as she’d wanted to be optimistic and lie to Dipper about how she’d been feeling, she couldn’t bring herself to do it. Not this time, not today.

"I’ve been working and worrying about you." It was an honest answer. "And… no. I’ve been doing a lot of thinking, y’know? About the town… about… the incident." Rubbing her arm anxiously, she averted her gaze to the ground. "Sometimes, I can’t help but wonder if this is all some messed up nightmare. But then I realize that it’s real, and it’s our fault everything’s like this.

I need someone to talk to, bro. You know I can’t talk to Stan about this stuff, right? We’d both be in so much trouble. Besides… I miss us spending time together. Don’t you?”

Mabel may as well have been trying to explain her situation to a brick wall. Her brother's face grew vacant as soon as she spoke of the incident, mentally a million miles away; tuning out was a poor coping mechanism, but it was so much easier to pretend, to swallow down the guilt and fear than to let it show. If the truth ate him from the inside out, so be it. He would fight off these beasts until there was nothing left of him but bone, but he was not brave enough to admit the truth, even to himself, and even to his dear sister. Surely doing so would kill him faster than any monster could. Oh, but how a part of him still tried. There was still a bit of Dipper in that husk of a boy, one tiny voice under all the others. You have to listen to her. She needs you. He shook his head sharply the way one might when trying to jolt themselves awake. Her words were like running water flowing through his fingers as he struggled to focus, to work past the cold sweat that prickled under his skin and made acid crawl up his dry throat. Why won't you listen? The was a split second of panic- he was trapped in his own mind, unable to fully grasp reality. It was as if he was a radio picking up the wrong signal. It was not the first time he had tuned out like this since blackout day, but it was the first time while around anyone else, let alone mid-discussion. Usually it happened while he worked, and it never interfered, but now, being aware of it made for one quite unpleasant situation.   Slowly, the dreamlike haze lifted. Sound once again buzzed in his ears, the rain, his heartbeat, a lone frog croaking from just outside the fence. He could see his sister clearly again, and he watched her breath come out in soft puffs, droplets running down her braid. How much time had passed? What was it she'd asked him?  He didn't know if she'd noticed anything off, and the last thing he wanted to do was bring it to attention. So, he only said, "It's nice to see you," though without even an attempt at a smile, it was terribly unconvincing.  Idiot.

ᶜᵃᵍᵉ;

This wasn’t going the way she had hoped. She got the feeling Dipper didn’t even want to talk to her or even acknowledge her presence, which honestly hurt. She may have been his twin, but that didn’t mean she could read his mind. She knew about his paranoia, but she didn’t know about the voices he heard inside his head. 

… the small talk wasn’t cutting it.

"What’s up. What’s up? Seriously?” Her voice was lowered to a dull whisper, her hand gently tugging at his arm. “You haven’t spoken to me in days, Dipper! Something’s obviously wrong with that, don’t you think? A-are you mad at me? Do you blame me? Yeah, it’s… it’s mostly my fault that everything went crazy, but we’re siblings! You can tell me anything.”

Mabel didn’t want to have to resort to begging, but she would if needed be. She needed to be able to communicate with Dipper. He was basically her other half, her missing piece!

Her lips twitched and she reluctantly released his arm, her gaze moving toward the fence. Everything was going horribly wrong, thanks to her and Dipper. No one really knew it was their fault… except for themselves. They knew, they were living with the guilt if it all. But why was Dipper not talking to her?

His heart hammered as his twin tugged his sleeve, choking down the fight-or-flight reflex that had been immediately triggered by the contact, even gentle as it was. His gut sank; he'd never thought his own body would betray him so  wickedly as to fear his own sibling. Only now he turned to face her, gaze darting from her hand to her face. Breathe- he wasn't going to speak until he could be sure his voice would not crack again, and not until his nerves could be soothed, lest he end up snapping at his twin and really driving her away. He didn't want to discuss what was on her mind, but neither could he stand the thought of losing her to them because he was not there to protect her. "No, I..." As his arm was released, Dipper immediately rubbed his soggy sleeve where her hand had been. He'd lowered his own voice now, turning to rapidly study the area, nausea twisting his stomach into knots at the thought that somebody could overhear them. A few other townsfolk busied themselves, heads low in the rain, and though none of them were in realistic hearing range, Dipper wasn't prepared to risk it. He pushed himself up on grimy legs, using the fence as support. A mumble left his lips, inaudible over the downpour, and with one quick wrist flick gesturing for Mabel to follow, he trudged off through the mud. He only stopped once he was a good distance away from prying ears, near a finished section of the fence that surrounded a small clearing. No trees in close range, no buildings- Dipper was more at ease now that he could see nothing around them to overhear, so he stuffed his hands into his pockets and turned to his sister, nose red, mismatched eyes tentatively trained on hers. It had been days since he last really got a good look at Mabel; it'd been given that she wouldn't be doing much better than anyone else in (what was left of) town, but actually seeing her in such a sorry state really struck him. Messy hair in a sloppy braid, tired eyes, dirty and scraped. This wasn't right. She was like a stranger in the boy's eyes. He knew it was her, he was certain that it was no impostor or beast wearing her skin- probably. No. It couldn't be. He closed his eyes and bared his teeth as his mind whispered all sorts of dizzying, distressing things, and when he finally spoke his voice had risen to the volume one might use when trying to talk over some unpleasant background noise; or, in this case, his own consciousness. "I've been working. I've... I'm trying to help out around here. This town needs all the help it can get." How carefully he danced around the real subject. That didn't necessarily make him good at it, however, and when he looked at Mabel again, his gaze was sheepish. "What have you been doing? Are you... okay?"

ᶜᵃᵍᵉ;

It was a good thing she always kept her hair in a braid. It wasn’t too neat, but it did the job of being out of her face, more importantly, her eyes. Her alabaster skin glistened with sweat, her hands covered with mud and guck. Needless to say, the girl wasn’t a pretty sight at the moment. 

She had been working to the bone for the past few hours, and she was thankful when she had a break. Mabel took the opportunity to scan the area and glance around, not that she saw much besides others working on the fence. Managing to spot her brother, she straightened up a bit and charged toward him. It seemed the past few days, her twin had been ignoring her.

Mabel hoped and prayed that Dipper wasn’t trying to push her away. They had been through nearly everything together! Maybe now that they both had a break, she could try and talk to him about her feelings. They weren’t as close as they were before… the incident occurred. Did Dipper blame her for bringing this all down on them? Was he angry at her for convincing him to help her open the damned book in the first place?

Silently, she knelt down beside him, not caring if she was dirty. Everyone here was dirty, and there were far worse things to worry about than appearances. Her eyes moved to Dipper and she studied him closely before carefully reaching an arm out and lightly touching his shoulder. She opened her mouth to speak, voice soft and quiet.

"… Dipper? We should talk."

A voice rising above his own internal monologue caused the boy to flinch, scabbed fists impulsively balling. He was able to process his surroundings quickly enough, however, that he did not take an actual swing. Nor did he keep his sibling's gaze for very long, however. He only used her presence as an excuse to begin working again, shifting in the mud and reaching up to continue his job of snaring wire around the stakes. If it had not been sweat along his skin before, it was there now; his hands began to tremble as he crafted, clumsily pricking his fingers along the metal barbs. Avoiding confrontation, he supposed, must have been another fruitless hope. "Okay." How could his mouth possibly feel so dry while the rest of him was so very drenched? His tongue was lead in his mouth. He could feel his twin's stare on the marked side of his face and he knew what she was thinking, he could hear her in his head- the more she stared the more the voice started saying things she would never say, and only a few seconds may have passed but it was like hours in Dipper's head, his erratic thought process visible by the way his jaw muscles twitched in the silence.  Slowly, his hands stopped tinkering, clammy palms resting flat against the fence. Teeth grazed over his peeling lip and then, in a tone one might use when discussing the weather (save for his cracking voice,) Dipper asked, "What's up?" A golden eye flicked from the fence to Mabel for perhaps a fraction of a second, but that was all the regard she was given. Still, it was more attention than anyone else had received over the past few days.