Completely heretical gravity falls story

Completely heretical gravity falls story

“Hey, you. You're finally awake. You were trying to cross the border, right? Walked right into that Imperial ambush, same as us, and that thief over there.”

This was, of course, wrong.

“Oh man someone PLEASE turn out that light. It’s too bright and early for these games, deeply-voiced Mabel.” You said to the shape, obscured by the filtered light of your hat, draped across your face.

You did not remember falling asleep outside, and certainly not on a horse cart.

“Ah, Dipper, you are being a no-fun-nik. Besides, this dreamscape seems pretty fun, lots of light to wake you up for more adventure! I bet we can meet a saber-toothed tiger-bear or something really rare!”

“Mabel, I love you very dearly and deeply,” I said as I pushed myself to a more comfortable sitting position, and immediately saw her huge blush on her face. “Uh-um, er as a sister, sure. Yes. Shut up. Are you part of my dream or are you IN my dream, is the real question.” I quickly covered. Flawlessly, I am sure you would agree.

“How can you be sure you are not in MY dream, huh smart guy?” Mabel said, squinting at you with a bit of suspicion.

Deadpanned, “Your dreams are a complete mess. I allowed you to watch MLP to compare to the real life unicorns we met, and EVER SINCE it has been a complete disaster area of glitter and ponies, when it wasn’t a homoerotic punk Elvis school set in the future, post-apocalyptic world of nuclear wars.”

“Bro-bro, it’s not homoerotic if it’s a girl’s dream, silly.” She huffed.

She made a good point.

Personally, you were becoming more and more concerned the closer the cart travelled to the city of what you supposed was Helgen, if Mabel was correct in her Skyrim Jokes, but the trees looked more like the redwoods of home than the Norwegian Spruces of Skyrim. Also, there were stone effigies of Bill Cipher, which was not likely to have been pirated DLC that Gruncle Stan had gotten for you.

“Actually, that does not bode well at all for us, huh Mabel. Can’t we just, you know, will ourselves out of this mess?”

OF COURSE, YOU CAN’T, PINE TREE! IT’D UPSET THE NARRATIVE ARC OF THIS NEXT MISADVENTURE YOU ARE TO EXPERIENCE. PLUUUUUSSSS, ITD BE MORE FUN THIS WAY.”

Bill Cipher. HIM.

“Ruh Roh, Ripper, rhis rosent rook good.” Mabel helpfully spoke in the ancient tongue most likely to be least likely to be understood by a dream demon.

“I am going to have a stroke before my 13th birthday if you guys keep this up. What do you mean, Narrative arc, where exactly are we? Is this Gruncle Ford’s brain where he keeps the Dungeons, Dungeons, and More Dungeons information? Why would we be here? Where are the numbers then?” You (bravely) demanded of the Thrice Damned Beast.

ACTUALLY, I’VE BEEN MEANING TO ASK THAT. THE NUMBERS, MASON, WHAT DO THEY MEAN?!?

You simply stared at him with all the teenage apathy that lived within your diseased, teenaged hormonal soul.

HEH, I WAS JUST KIDDING WITH YOU. THIS IS CLOSER TO THE D&D SECTION IN BURGERBANDS 2 INSTEAD. ER, BORDERLANDS 2. TURNS OUT ASTRAL PROJECTING TO A VAGUE, SCHLOCKY VERSION OF VIDEGAME ELEMENTS FROM THE FUTURE IS WAY EASIER TO DEFEAT YOU IN THAN IN THE REAL WORLD. WAAAAAY EASIER, AND IF YOU LOSE THE GAME, I’LL GET WHOLE AND TOTAL POSSESSION OF YOUR SOULS. WIN-WIN FOR ME, HONEST.

“Now wait a cotton-picking minute, Buster Brown, you can’t just say that and not explain how we got here! This is… absurd? Yes, absurd’s the word and the word is on the street, is that you are cray-cray, yo! Explain how we got here, you off brand Dorito!” Mabel bellowed at the Wound in The Dimension.

ACTUALLY, I AIN’T GOTTA EXPLAIN SHIT. ITS MAGIC! AHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAAHAHHA!

Fuming as he cackled, I suddenly had the much-anticipated IDEA™ which finally dinged for me. “Wait a minute, Cipher. You said game. What are the win conditions for our…worthy quest?”

He had to think a bit, clearly the hamster wheels in his … head were spinning as hard as they could.

YOU COULD START BY RUNNING INTO THE ROOM OF THE THREE GARGOYLES. PUSH IN THE RIGHT TONGUE, AND A DOOR MIGHT LEAD YOU DOWN A STAIRCASE AND INTO THE WALL CLIMB. HERE, YOU MUST CHOOSE YOUR NEXT PATH. YOU COULD RACE UP INTO THE OBSERVATORY, SPIN THE SUNDIAL, AND PASS INTO THE ROOM OF THE GOLDEN IDOLS. ONCE THERE, PUSH DOWN THEIR BASES TO RELEASE THE DOORS, THAT MAY TAKE YOU BELOW, YOU'LL LIFT UP THE TREASURE CHEST AND CLIMB DOWN THROUGH IT, OR TRY TO ENTER INTO THE SHRINE OF THE SILVER MONKEY. ASSEMBLE THE STATUE, AND YOU MAYBE HEADED FOR THE PIRATE'S COVE. IF THE ELEVATOR IS UP, THEN YOU CAN DESCEND INTO THE SPIN THE SHIP'S WHEEL, AND YOU CAN DESCEND INTO THE DUNGEON. YOU CAN CLIMB UP THE LADDER, OR PLOW THROUGH THE STONE WALL, FIND THE KEY, AND IT MAY UNLOCK THE TOMB OF ANCIENT KINGS, WHICH WILL ALLOW YOU TO ENTER THE TREACHEROUS SWAMP. NEXT, YOU COULD CLIMB INTO THE SWAMP. IF YOU ESCAPE, THEN YOU MAY HAVE A CHANCE TO SIT UPON THE THRONE OF THE PRETENDER. STAND ON THE PROPER TWO STEPS, AND THE DOORS MAY OPEN. IF THE CORRECT DOOR IS UNLOCKED, YOU COULD CRAWL THROUGH THE PIT OF DESPAIR, AND FINALLY MAKE YOUR WAY THROUGH THE CAVE OF SIGHS AND BACK THROUGH THE TEMPLE GATE!

“What?”

HAHA GOTTEM, NERD. YOU REALLY GOTTA LOOSEN UP, PINE TREE! JUST GO KILL THE DRAGON, ANY MEANS NECCESARY. DO THAT, TAKE HIS GALL STONES TO THE WIZARD, HAVE THEM TURNED INTO THE STAFF OF HEY’WOOD J’BLOWMEE, CRACK THE WALLS OF MOREA, OPEN THE PORTAL AND JUMP IN! THAT WILL TAKE YOU RIGHT BACK HOME TO GRAVITY FALLS, A’INT THAT RIGHT GENEROUS OF ME?

This was possibly the worst idea you have ever had, you decided.

“Deal! But if we win, we want your dream demon powers, all of them.” Mabel said, slyly in her most sweetly poisonous tone.
ISN’T GOING HOME ENOUGH FOR YOU TWO?

“I, for one, want magical space princess powers. Can you imagine if I could make stars small enough to use as glitter? Or for blinding people with my … wait for it … celestial chompers!” Mabel shouted, in her most master villainess tone. That was probably your favorite one, not counting the one that always made you feel safe, of course.

Bill thought for a moment, then decided that the stakes were more fun this way.

DEAL, PUNY MEATBAGS!

Now, you can tell a lot by a man’s handshake, or so Gruncle Stan would have us believe. All you felt was the millennia of madness and apathetic hatred in Bill’s hand. You could feel the excitement of his blood through his veins, somehow, through that 2D hand of his.

SAY HI TO THE POPE FOR ME, I THINK YOU TWO ARE GOING TO NEED A PRIEST SO BAD, YOU’LL HAVE TO GO ALL THE WAY TO THE TOP!

“WHERE IS THE DRAGON, CIPHER? AND WE ARE JEWISH YOU UNOBSERVANT CYCLOPS!”

With a pop, he was gone, leaving the two of us alone in an abandoned cult temple to the mad, wannabee God.

“Whelp, might as go that way.” Mabel said, getting back into the cart and directing the horse to civilization, hopefully.
…………………………………………………………………….
“On the road again, oh, I’m- “

“Mabel, as nice as your singing is, I cannot listen to anymore Williert Nelscon. How are you even playing a harmonica and singing at the same time?” You watched as she slowly lowered her harmonica from her now soft red lips. She smiled warmly at you. “You really like my singing?”

Crap, she’s caught you blushing now. “Uh y-yes, I really do, but isn’t 21 repeats of the same song a bit much? Don’t you know any other travelling music besides that THAT ISN’T BABBA?”

She put on her thinking face and handed you the harmonica you had gotten from that green vagabond earlier. Snufkin had no idea where a dragon would live, but he did point you towards a small valley.

“Play “I am a poor, wayfaring stranger” with me, Dip-Dop. That will cool your upsetti spaghetti fer sure!”

The bars of the very solemn song flowed through the air, a haunting melody across the moors, a clarion call, but for silence. The moors said nothing, the rabbits, the birds, all stopped to hear the song of the Twins.


“I am a poooor, wayfaring stranger....” The harmonica you play isn’t great, but the tune is easy, and it is an honor to hear her voice like this.

“Travelling through…this world of woe...” She glows, darkly, as if she were an ember dancing among the ashes.

“Yet there’s no sickness, toil, nor danger…” The world frozen, you can do little but watch the wetness in her eyes, the soft bounce in her hair as she looks to the sky.

“In that bright land…to which, I go…” She had captivated you into forgetting to play. She was as a stain of breath upon a mirror, warm and fleeting upon the cool air.


As the song ended, sound slowly filled the air, the birds returned, and life went on for the creatures of the moors. Perhaps the two of you had been too far from home for too long. 3 days, it had been since entering this land. Too far gone from Home, be that Piedmont or Gravity Falls. Too long from Mom and Dad, or from your Gruncles Stan and Ford. Over this next rise you could see the next home away from home.

The small township of the valley you had heard about earlier.

Moominvalley.

Granted, it was filled with weird, white hippos who were dressed in medieval tabards and had unbelievably cute conical Norman helmets, which was strange considering that the signs seemed to have Finnish motifs.

“Hark! Who goes there, for this is the residence of the Holy Father, Muumilaakso. Do you have a visa?”

Now, in retrospect, doing what Bill Cipher had suggested, even by mistake something he had joked about, was generally ill advised.
“Visas? We don’t need no stinkin’- “you interrupted Mabel just then. “My sister means to say that we had no idea that we needed a visa, sorry. My dad only has American Express, and it isn’t here with me. Nor do I have my passport. Sorry.” You hoped that this would cover for the two of you, in what seemed like a marginally volatile international incident.

“Vitun Amerikkalaiset…” The guard cleared his throat. “Ahem. Americans are on the safe travel list for Muumilaakso. Better known as “Moomin Valley” in your tongue, eh?”

“You wouldn’t turn away an old friend and his guests, would you?” asked a bush nearby. Besides scaring the bejesus out of you, a figure, who was decidedly NOT an Ent arose from behind the bushes.

“Ah, by Tove! Snufkin! I have not seen hide nor hair of you since the Winter Plague!”

(For some reason, a horrid chill ran down your back, as if millions of baby boomers had suddenly cried out on Facebook and were suddenly…silenced.)

“It is, of course, good to see you too, Chief of Police Hemulen. Out on the beat for young whippersnappers breaking the rules again?” Snufkin chided his old friend.

“Harrumph. I see that you have not mellowed in your dastardly tricks. You’d better go take them on to the young master, de jure and de facto ruler of Moominvalley, for you… tourist’s edification.”

Mabel was chomping at the bit to see more weird new friends, and this was the only place with beds that we might use. “Lead on, Macduff.” You mistakenly say.

You are immediately corrected by everyone present. “The original term was “Lay on, Macduff” which meant a fight was going to happen. But yes, I should lead you on to Moomin. He is my very dearest friend. Really, you will like him.” Snufkin helpfully informed in the most passive aggressive way he could.

Up the steps of the cottage palatial style most familiar to your subconscious, though you really could not place where you had seen it before. Up the stairs through a handsome home, past a comfortable kitchen and parlor, to the back porch where you met an adorable hippo shaped friend.


MOOMINTROLL
A POPE WHO DENIES RELIGION


“Huh, weird. Anyway, you are shaped like a friend and my brother and I would very much like to stay with you for at least the night please.” Mabel word vomited over the appropriately Papal themed… Moomin.

“Hi hello there, I am Muumipeikko. Or, Moomintroll. You may call me Moomin, though. Oh, gee hello there Snufkin! It has been so long, you missed spring! And who are your guests?” The robed one spoke in an adorable childlike voice.

“I couldn’t risk getting you sick, dear friend. Moominmamma would have my guts for garters should I bring home a sickness. Oh, and these are- “

“OOH! OOH! ME! I’M MABEL AND THIS IS DIPPER AND WE THINK THAT YOU ARE JUST THE SWEETEST FELLA TO HAVE EVER LIVED!”

“Ah, I see. Somehow, I remember those names, as if someone had sent me a letter about you two? Someone who desperately needed a priest. I am a Pope, of sorts.”

You raised a bushy eyebrow at this. “Wait, are you not Catholic? Also, the Pope we know is a very old man who hated nuns or something. We ourselves are not practicing, well, anything. Gruncle Stan made us Jewish for scholarship reasons when we were born though.”

“Oh, golly! No, Moomin here isn’t Catholic, and I am partial to nuns myself in certain… er, situations. Look” he quickly cut his own train of thought from becoming too visceral. “Moomin is the Pope of the state religion of Finland, atheism. We got the idea playing our favorite game, Crusader Kings. I am his most loyal steward, when I am in town, anyway.”

“Moomin, dear, who is this little girl? Ooh is she your new girlfriend~” a new voice poked in from the hallway.

“Ah, jeez, Moominmamma, I’ve been dating Snufkin for years now.”

“Oh, but Moomin, let your mamma tease you now and again. Say, that is a wonderful sweater. Do you knit? Perhaps we can knit together while you stay the night, hmm?” decided Moominmamma.

“Ah, but Mamma, me n Snufkin were having fun playing Crusader Kings! We wanted to allow these weary travelers rest in our great estate!” Moomin whined, before melting at a cross look from his mother.

“I will not allow these poor, alone children out on the road any longer. At least, not for today. Now, children, go set your burdens down in the guest room. You can share, of course?”

You both eagerly nodded, happy to be off the road for a bit, and hot food and showers were waiting in the wings as well.
…………………………………………………………….

You did not dream last night, which was good, because it would likely have been very upsetting. The one good night of rest ruined by nightmares would have been something Bill would do. There was no nightmare though, at least you think so. The dream flitted away by the time you realized you were awake. The warmth surrounding you after a good meal and a hot shower from last night, the intoxicating scent of beloved hair, it was almost as if everything was normal enough again.

Normal enough for your body, at any rate. This unfortunately arreared when Mabel’s rear was firmly planted right into your arisen dick, one now free of your boxers, the conniving bastard.

“Man, what the fuck, man.” You very softly swore to yourself. “Mmmmlanguagemmmm” Mabel murmured softly. Trying to extricate yourself from the bed was doomed to failure, the guest bed was a modest twin bed that could barely hold two near teenagers.

Now, Mabel was usually able to sleep through, probably, the Germans marching through Belgium in 1914, that is to say, anything. That was when she was not being a light sleeper, seemingly whatever choice was funnier in retrospect, or least convenient for you.

“mmmMMgh HUCKT DIPPER!” Sonofabitch. “Wuzzat yew got fer me, hoh?” Son of a double dick. She’s astral projected into becoming Louisianan. Hands rummaging behind her, knocking off the covers, a “What’s this frig- “

Your life was over. Struck down by God, for sure, if you weren’t killed by Cipher during the escape.

“Dipper.” Mabel purred, like a chainsaw warming up, “Why, pray tell, am I holding your cock in my hand?”

“Foreign object detected in loading bay.”

She stared at you, and then down at her hands, and then slowly tearing her sight from them, back at you.

Why the FUCK would you say that why would you say that to your twin who has done nothing but love you and certainly did nothing to deserve having a brother who was born dark and twisted and a sisterfucker and a dork-

“I can feel your horrid embarrassment through your pulse, Dipper. Lucky for you, I don’t think you’ll have to live this down because I am not going to mention this to anyone. Ever, I hope.”

You stared deep into her eyes, gaze unwavering (somehow, the Manotaur training decides to kick in at the worst time) and you feel your cock fill with even more blood. Her emblazoned face turns as red as an old thermometer and feels just as hot, even from here (a distance that’s just too far to reach for a kiss, your traitorous thoughts spill).

“Mabel…”

Her eyes sparkle dimly, a low, slow burn of limitless possibilities. Enchanting.

“Yes, Dipper?”

“Why are you still holding my cock?”

She lost the impromptu staring contest. Like she had been belatedly burned by the incredible heat of your… desire? Natural, unconscious instincts? Noticing that she was staring at her hand now rather intently, you decided that discretion was the better part of valor and instead got prepared for a shower.

A cold one, by yourself. Definitely not thinking about Mabel and what had just happened ever again.

………….
……….
…

“Whaddaya know, I am thinking about it in the shower. Damn it… I can’t even see the Pope about this because I am living in his house. God DAMN you Bill Cipher.”

‘Okay Dipper. Let us use our right reason, as the Stoics once did, to determine what has gone wrong, is such a thing wrong, and what can be done to fix it.’

You calmed down as temperate water cooled your poor overworked brain. Thought exercises accompanied by water had been used by the Greats since, well, forever.

“Guess that’s why the Washington monument has a reflecting pool, to better help you reflect on what to do. Hardy har har. Ok, ok, now.”
‘What has gone wrong? Ok, easy to figure out. My sister saw and held my bare cock. What’s worse is that I don’t feel too bad about it. Besides wishing to have died of embarrassment, anyway.

Why do you not feel like this was wrong? I should hate myself for having feelings for- ‘

“That CANNOT be right. Please God no.” You must continue, to run up Moomin’s water bill would be a mistake, and this sort of emotional trauma was probably best solved now.

‘Do you have feelings that are beyond average sibling love for Mabel? Hmm, well, ever since we went to Gravity Falls, I’ve been looking out for her, trying to protect her from bad dates, from danger, sometimes from herself. Granted, that is normal sibling things, but she was my entire world before we left home. It’s almost as if our parents are merely a plot contrivance and not actual people in our lives. Ever since coming to DDMD Land, I’ve had to protect her even more.

Well, not all that many encounters with monsters, more the soul crushing bleakness of this place, a couple not very mentionable escapes from skeletons or avoiding enemies while on a horse cart. What happened to the horse, anyway, was it ever taken to a stable?

Getting off track. Everyone knows that romance increases proportional to the time spent in danger with your girl, particularly when it is just you and her. I always spend so much time with her and worrying over her, or laughing with her, perhaps it was inevitable I would start to develop feelings for her due to such closeness?’

That made some sense. More examination needed.

‘You have decided that you have feelings for her, but are these feelings good? Wrong in morality? Well, perhaps you simply cannot bear to lose her, to anything. Even Wendy did not elicit this response. But is this… near obsession a bad thing? Does it make you feel rotten inside, is a good place to start.

…No, it doesn’t. Is that a sign of a mental disorder, to feel ok when doing something illegal or immoral? Well, just because someone else says such a thing is bad, doesn’t mean it actually is. Peer pressure, like we learned in school. This feeling for her makes me feel good, but it also seems so very twisted and wrong… Maybe that’s just leftover peer pressure from society? Good feelings can be bad, but can matters of the heart be wrong, besides on bad soap operas and fanfictions? (Soos you have ruined my appreciation for the fans of anything ever written and inspired me to new heights. God, but I do miss you all.)

So, you believe that your love for your sister, a romantic relationship, is not a problem, and that it may be wrong socially? It may be wrong socially, but I think I really do love her, and I want …to…be with her. Omigosh, I really am a monster.

Shut up and think for a second, Dipper, I will not allow you to agonize over this for longer. Is this love a real problem, can it be solved, and do you wish to solve it?’

Your head was empty. The now chilly water running down your back, the pruned fingertips, the sting of soap left in your eyes from body wash rated for talking zoo animals, it all connected for you.

“I do not see a romantic love for Mabel to be wrong, as long as she fully reciprocates, and therefore is not a problem, except perhaps socially, which is an issue for after we get out of here.”

Catharsis. Logic’s ponderous straight forwardness had finally corrected the twisted tracts of your mind. You beamed, ready to face the day, with more enthusiasm than perhaps you had ever had.

“Thanks, Symptom of Mental Illness!”

‘No problem, Dipper, I am just happy to help you.’
……………………………………………………………………………………………