ghostharasser | Open Post

[It’s odd, that even in his half-lucid, feverish state that Dipper is able to pick up on Stan’s scent in the most subconscious way. It’s familiar. It’s safe. It does a lot to settle any surfacing nerves he might have about the situation he’s in. Instead, it lets him focus on the conversation they’re having.]

[Distantly, something should set him off about Stan’s tone, but he’s just too tired, too dizzy, too hurt to be able to parse it. Instead he does as Stan asks. He talks.]

...You probably won’t believe me, but I ...noticed last night that there was a campfire just ...sitting at the edge of woods. Soos didn’t build it, Wendy had no idea, and it stayed lit for hours despite not being fed any wood. S’weird, right?

So ...I waited and we went out to investigate it only for it to just. Sprout legs and skitter away. So, we followed it because ...campfires shouldn’t do that?

Yeah, that's-- that's pretty weird. Campfires should definitely not do that.

[But they do, and Stan knows. Honestly, Scampfires are kinda cute - even if he wants them as far away from the Shack as possible.]

So, alright. What happened when you followed it?

[Stan guides the conversation along, trying to prompt Dipper to stay awake and keep going while they trek back home.]

[Stan isn’t dismissing him, and it does actually catch his attention for a moment. There’s a pause as he looks up at him, narrowing his gaze like he is trying to understand something through what is still his very hazy brain.]

[It passes, and Dipper continues.]

I guess the ...moving light from the fire caught the attention of the wolf. It cornered us pretty quick and-

[Mabel cuts in, You big jerk! You grabbed the fire-guy and ran off into the woods!]

Yep. And I- Ow!

[She punches his arm, the uninjured one, and pouts, burying her face into the neck of her sweater.]

Hey, hey! I can't believe I'm actually sayin' this, but no hitting.

[Ugh, that feels so weird and gross in his mouth. He loves condoning violence!]

You can smack him all you want after he heals up, alright? And he's gonna heal up, so you'll get your chance.

[Dipper gets no say in this decision. Stan awkwardly bends himself and Dipper so he can sort of affectionately noogie Mabel with his elbow. When they tilt though, something red pokes out of Dipper's vest and Stan almost stops breathing.

Holy shit. Holy shit.]

--So! So, uh. And you what, Dipper?

Edited 2020-11-17 04:18 (UTC)

...Wow, I must look terrible, if you’re saying th-aAT!

[Oh, everything suddenly spins as Stan dips down to noogie his sister. When he comes back up, Dipper curls in on himself, dizzy and nauseous.]

Oh no.

[Stan- and Mabel for sure, will know that as the telltale warning before Dipper is about to be sick.]

...Uh-oh.

[Okay, so maybe that was a bad plan. Stan stops in his tracks and carefully - very carefully - sets Dipper back on the ground where he can be as sick on the forest floor as he needs to.

Hopefully he set him down in time. If not, well. He tried.]

[Its okay, Dipper is actually pretty good about holding it in until he absolutely can’t. So when he’s set down, he crumples and let’s it all go.]

[It’s part nausea, part stress, part whatever else is happening to his body right now, and after he’s done he just kind of lingers there, coughing, trying to hold himself still while his head continues spinning. He doesn’t think he has ever felt more awful in his entire life, than he does now.]

[Once he feels less like he’s on a broken merry-go-round, he sits back. He’s doing a remarkable job keeping himself together, but frankly all he wants to do right now is cry and it’s taking everything he has to not. Mabel coming to rub his back is about all that let’s him keep that in-check, for now.]

...‘Kay. Think I’m good.

[Stan lets Mabel take the lead on the immediate comfort there. She's worried too and it's a good chance for her to help. He can't help but wince as the kid retches though. He would never, ever have wished this on him, and it's hard to watch.

Dipper toughs it out like a champ though, and he doesn't even wait for anyone to ask if he's done. He's always been a little fighter.]

Alright, good. Lemme know if we gotta stop again. I'm gonna pick you up real slow, okay?

[And he does. He scoops Dipper up, but he's a lot more careful and deliberate about it, trying to jostle him as little as possible. The last thing he wants is to make the kid nauseous again. It's only once Dipper's settled that they start to walk again.]

So, where were we? You picked up the sentient campfire and bolted, right?

Edited 2020-11-17 05:59 (UTC)

[He only nods in response, and let’s Stan gather him back up again. Now that that particularly awful fit has passed, he does feel a little better. His guts are less furious at him now, and that feeling of safety has come back. He settles back down and happily picks the conversation back up.]

Mm. Yeah. I held onto it for as long as I could but it’s ...you now, sentient fire. I had to drop it eventually. So I flung it as far as I could and thought I had a chance to escape but I tripped, fell off a ledge and the wolf pinned me down.

[There’s a small pause, Dipper quietly furrows his brow in thought.]

...Don’t remember much after that. It had my arm and then everything went black.

Edited 2020-11-17 06:14 (UTC)

[Stan can't help but sigh.]

Yeah. ...That'll happen.

[That part is extremely familiar. Again, not an experience he ever wanted to share with anyone, but it's not like they can do anything about that now.]

It's alright, kid. We're almost back to the Shack now. We're gonna get you home, patch you up, and then you're gonna have the best nap you've ever had, okay? You just gotta hang in there a little longer.

[...That’s kind of a weird thing to say, but Dipper isn’t exactly sure what makes it weird. After a moment he speaks up again.]

...Hey, Grunkle Stan.

[His expression is still racked with fever, but there’s a very particular, imploring way he seems to be looking at him.]

Do you believe me?

[Stan hesitates. He's not sure what would be better to say. Denying it might get him riled up, and might be a good way to keep him awake. A little back and forth banter about it might be good right now.

But...Stan's tired. Dipper's tired. It's been a long night, and ultimately Stan doesn't have it in him.]

...Yeah. Yeah, I believe you.

[The Shack is within sight now, peeking through the nearest patch of trees.]

[The silence that hangs in the air is certainly something, as both the twins seem to be taking that in. Then, finally breaking through is the quiet sound of Dipper laughing.]

[It’s barely more than a weak chuckle at this point, frankly, but very clear. His expression is incredulous and amused but in a humorless way. In fact, there’s a very suspicious waver at the end of this laughing fit and sounds a lot like he might be threatening to cry.]

...Have to admit. Didn’t think it would be sentient campfires.

[Stan looks down, unsure why Dipper's laughing or, more importantly, why he sounds like he's about to cry. But something about that cuts the tension a little bit, just enough for Stan to laugh too. It's tired, relieved, and exasperated all at once.]

Pfft. Yeah Dipper, it was definitely the Scampfire and not at all the giant wolf part of this story that sold me.

[Mabel holds the last of the brush aside for them as they step into the parking lot, so they can make their way back into the house.]

[Honestly the laugh was almost entirely Dipper expelling how overwhelmed he is with everything right now. Seeing the Shack come into view, though, manages to settle him before he actually ends up getting hysterical and he quiets down.]

Wolves don’t have to be magic, you know. Wolves can just be big.

[Definitely not the size of a car, but somehow joking about that is a whole lot easier than actually letting the implications of it being an actual werewolf, and the fact that he has a bite mark covering 70% of his arm, settle in. If he let that happen his mind would just explode into a thousand different anxious tangents and he’d never recover. He couldn’t handle that on top of how awful everything else was.]

[Stan can work with this. He can definitely, absolutely tease him about this without steering him into what the real problem here is. They don't have to talk about werewolves to keep things light.]

Wolves do not get bigger than cars. If it was really that big and really not magic, you mighta got mauled by a moose, kid. You sure it wasn't a moose?

[Mabel gets the door for them, and without any hesitation Stan heads not for the living room, but for the kitchen - where the first aid kit is already sitting on the table, waiting for them.]

[This is good banter, yes. Dipper will take it before he spirals down the road of existentialism. His tone is very deadpan, even through his state.]

One, I am pretty sure I can tell a moose from a wolf, even in the dark while running for my life. Two, if it were a moose I would have been dead, 100 percent.

[Luckily he is not so coherent that he perceives this convenient first-aid kit as something to question. He lets Stan move him as he likes and is pretty compliant while Stan patches him up.]

[Stan will see, now that he is tending to his injuries, that the bite really is the worst one, and if this were normal circumstances, he’d probably need several stitches. Outside of that, there was a dried blood in his hair from some kind of blunt hit to the side of his head, there were numerous scrapes and shallow cuts all over his legs (most of which have already begun to close up) synonymous with what one might get from running though dense brush, and heavy scrapes on his knees from the fall he’d mentioned. His hands were still burned from when he picked up the Scampfire and carried it through the woods, and lastly his right shoulder bears roughly two and a half distinct deep gashes that Stan will easily identify as claw marks.]

[It’s a lot, and even Dipper is silent as he really takes in just how bad off he is.]

[Stan playfully tsks at him.]

I dunno, Dipper. This looks like a classic moose bite to me.

[He's fairly calm taking in all these injuries. They need to be tended to, but he's probably more confident than he has any right to be that Dipper won't bleed out. He has no idea if infection is something he-- something they have to worry about, but he's never really had any idea. It's not like there's a werewolf instruction manual, beyond the amount that his brother's already written.

But with first aid it's better to be safe than sorry.

He has Mabel running around acting as nurse to keep her involved and not fretting so much, letting her run and get him clean cloths and water, and whatever else he might need. She also brings things he didn't quite ask for, like more colorful band-aids than he has in the first aid kit and sure, she can stick those all over the scrapes and cuts on Dipper's legs while Stan's working, why not?

The bite is the biggest concern - Stan washes that one good and cleans it with something that probably stings more than Dipper would like it to before wrapping it up with expertise. He's done this far too many times.

Next biggest concern is whatever the bump on his head was. Before he even looks hard at the injury, Stan snaps his fingers in front of Dipper's face and has him follow his finger around with his eyes for a few seconds. He watches his eyes closely, checking to make sure he doesn't have a concussion. Dipper was dizzy enough to throw up after all.

From there he grabs two clean cloths and wets them - one to clean the blood from head wound, and one to give Dipper just to sort of hold, to help with the burns on his hands.]

Hanging in there, kid? You're doing great.

Edited 2020-11-18 02:39 (UTC)

[If it’s anything that is keeping him in high spirits while all of this is happening. It’s Mabel taking her nursing duties seriously and sticking him with as many bright and colorful band-aids as she has, even in places where he doesn’t strictly need them, while explains to him in detail why she chose each one and where she put it.]

[He passes the concussion test, thankfully, and probably won’t be in danger from taking a nap once they’re done.]

[However, while Stan cleans out the bite, there is a very distinct moment where the stinging of disinfectant gets to him, and pained snarl that he lets slip is loud enough to make Mabel spook and go still. After a moment, he settles down, but there’s probably no mistaking the flash of gold in his eyes, if only for a moment.]

Don’t have much choice.

[It wouldn't be quite right to say Stan startles - the truth is he was expecting something like that, if his own experience is anything to go by. Seeing Dipper like this makes his heart hurt though. He has to take a deep breath to stop himself from going down an upsetting road with that thought. There's still work to do.]

No, you don't.

[From what Stan can tell, the head wound looks scarier than it actually is. There's blood, but the site itself is starting to heal. Those claw marks might take a little longer though, so Stan patches them up as best as he can, rolling up Dipper's sleeve and trying to jostle him as little as possible.

He saves the burns for last, so Dipper can hold the wet cloth as long as possible. He has Dipper hold his hands out, fingers splayed so the burns can be wrapped without restricting his movement too much. Two non-stick dressings, some burn ointment, and some gauze later, Dipper is all done.

Stan grabs Dipper a glass of water and hands him a couple ibuprofen, since he probably can't open the bottle himself right now.]

Alright King Tut, take a couple of these. It'll help with that fever too.

[Will it help with magic wolf flu? Who knows. It'll help with some things though and that's what matters in the end.]

Edited 2020-11-18 04:37 (UTC)

[There’s a terrible opportunity for someone to make a My Mummy’s A Werewolf joke and its a damn shame no one is going to take it.]

[Dipper takes the ibuprofen, though, and knocks them back, as well as the entire glass of water. Honestly, he could stand to have more, if for nothing else but to get that awful bile taste out from the back of his throat.]

Thanks. Sorry for ...uhm.

[It’s hard to quantify what exactly he’s sorry for. Going into the forest at night? Almost getting killed by a giant wolf? Causing everyone to worry?]

...everything.

[Dipper never wanted things to go this badly, never thought that just following after a harmless Gravity Falls critter would lead not just to something almost tearing him apart, but to ...consequences he might be stuck with forever. Consequences he can hardly wrap his head around yet.]

[Stan's instinct is to reach out with a comforting touch, but it takes an extra minute to figure out a place that isn't going to hurt. Left shoulder? Left shoulder seems alright. So, he puts a hand on Dipper's left shoulder.]

Don't worry about that right now. Just focus on resting up and getting better soon, okay?

[He offers up a smile, but honestly? He looks beat. He looks like he was the one up all night being chased by a wolf. A yawn escapes him, revealing teeth that are perhaps just a little too pointy.]

Alright, alright. Naptime for everyone. You too, Mabel. Don't make me force you gremlins up to bed, 'cause I'll do it!

[The plans are already forming in his head. He'll get the kids to bed and then...hm. Call Soos, probably. Get him to open up the Shack without him so he can crash for at least a couple hours before his first tour. He can force his way through the rest of the day if he gets some shut-eye now.]

[Dipper catches that, and wonders if he’s seeing things. It’s hard to say right now, with how much his head still feels like it’s swimming. He’s exhausted and really just wants to go lay down, so he doesn’t even argue.]

[Mabel is quick to try and help Dipper off the table, as she has made it her duty, as nurse, to make sure he gets up the stairs without falling. The two bicker playfully all the way up the stairs, which is finally some sign of normalcy after how dire this entire morning has been.]

[Mabel tucks him in, and he puts up with it because he knows better than to argue with her when he is literally wrapped head-to-toe in gauze, and he knows she’s fussing at him so much because she had to see him in such a state earlier. He remembers the look on her face when he woke up, and it probably won’t be something he’ll be able to forget for a long time. So, that’s why he suffers her placing at least ten stuffed animals around him to help him sleep. And also, he guesses they were soft and kind of soothing. HE GUESSES.]

[When she’s finished she steps away and she nervously wrings her hair. It’s a habit he knows she does when something is really bothering her. When he asks, she shakes her head and says its nothing. He knows she’s lying, but before he can really needle her over it, he’s yawning and drifting off. Sleep takes him before he can even remotely get the words out.]

[Why did she look so scared?]

[Dipper sleeps for almost two days. His fever comes and goes, sometimes leaving him to rest, and then sometimes peaking dangerously while he shivers and whines beneath his blankets. All the while he’s plagued by vivid, near-lucid dreams. Sometimes they’re just a retelling of That Night, where he’s running desperately through the forest only for the wolf to corner him and tear him to pieces.]

[Sometimes he’s the wolf, and he’s running through the trees with the moon over head. Sometimes he’s the one chasing after something in the night, stalking, hunting with an insatiable hunger.]

[He wakes up on the second day as the sun’s already begun to set, startled and breathless. The dream was already fading but it’s visions linger just long enough to make him shudder. It takes some time for him to catch his breath and settle down. Once he does he is able to relish in how he doesn’t actually feel as awful as he did when he went to sleep. His head felt clear, the pain that was once all over his body seemed very subdued, and his nausea seems much better. Any nerves from his nightmares have already faded. He’s like a whole new person.]

[That thought startles him, and it gives him a moment to really think. Immediately suspicious of all this, Dipper starts to check his bandages, gingerly pulling at the one on his arm, covering the bite. His eyes go wide at what he finds.]

[It’s practically healed. How long has he been a sleep? There’s- no way, right?]

[Stan and Mabel both check in on him frequently.

Two days is a long time to sleep. They both bring him food and water now and then, in the hopes he might jostle awake enough to eat it. When his fever is at its highest, they get a cool washcloth for his forehead.

Mabel has likely never seen Dipper this sick before. Stan is quick to reassure her though - once his fever goes away, he'll start feeling better in no time.

(Stan and Mabel talk a lot in those two days. Long, anxious conversations over coffee and Mabel Juice, where Mabel wrings her hair more and Stan delivers news both good and bad. He teaches her some tricks. They save a stuffed animal from Dipper's sleepy clutches.)

By the end of the second day, Stan's physically feeling a lot better than he did. The first half of the month is always better for him anyway - he gets further and further from the stupid full moon until he's at peak energy. After the new moon it's all downhill from there.

It's Stan's turn to check on Dipper this time, and he looks surprised when he pops in the doorway.]

Wow, you're actually awake! It's about time!

[He laughs, and leans on the doorframe.]

Feeling any better?

[Dipper has frantically unraveled most of the bandages on his arm by the time Stan greets him, and judging by the way he practically bristles at the sudden sound of his voice, he sure was focused at staring at the scarring.]

[Because that’s all it was, now. Scarring, and a few tender patches of healing skin. Even if he’d been asleep for a week it shouldn’t have healed that much. When he finally looks up at Stan, his eyes are wide, confused and awfully frightened.]

Grunkle Stan, what’s happening to me?

[He knows the answer. He knew the moment the wolf locked it’s jaws on his arm, it was the very last thought running through his head. He’s not stupid, he’s seen movies, read plenty of books, he understands the lore far more than most. It’s pointless to keep playing this denial game that he clung to the entire morning after, where his family scraped his bloody mess of a body off the forest floor. Where he should have been dead, but he wasn’t.]

[And of course now that he can finally think straight again, his mind is rapidly putting together the pieces he struggled with before. Stan’s acceptance of what happened, his suspicious knowledge of scampfires, of treating his injuries, his teeth, and of course the most damning thing of all, and the thing Dipper is only just now able to grasp, his scent.]

[Dipper knows the answer, but he needs to hear it from Stan.]

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