ghostharasser | Open Post

[Dying had been strangely anticlimactic. The events leading up to it, had been anything but, however when he felt his life finally slip away, there was a great exhaustion in his bones, in his body, and even with all the worries plaguing his mind, all he could be was relieved.]

[He hoped Stanley and Ford could stay safe, probably they would do better without him anyway. He could not deign to hope he would be reunited with Mabel, but he wished anyway. He had so much he wanted to say to her. he had so much to make up to her-]

"What do you think that one looks like, Dipper?"

Mason blinks, and suddenly there is a bright blue sky above him. Fluffy white clouds smattered about, with a warm sun shining brightly against his face. It's the most beautiful thing he's seen in a long time. When has he last seen a sky like this...? He can't recall. He's spellbound for a few long moments before he feels someone shove his shoulder.

Mabel giggles at him. She looks bright, happy. There isn't a single line under her eyes, not a stain or hole in her clothing. She grins.

"Were you daydreaming, brobro? Was it about anyone?"

Was he? he suddenly can't recall either. What about the sky had him so transfixed? Ah, and where was he before- "No, nothing like that. Sorry, what did you ask me?"

His voice sounds strange to his own ears, too. He looks down at his hands and can't recognize them.

"Psh, you don't have to be sorry. Stop worrying so much."

"I can't," He admits, "I don't know how to. All I'm good for is worrying-"

"Woah, whoa," She takes his hands and tugs them over, forcing their eyes to meet. She looks concerned, but her voice is steady. "It's okay, everything's going to be okay, alright? If you can't trust yourself, you can trust me."

He nods, feeling something upset rising up within him.

"Everything will be okay."

[Mason wakes with a start, and then chokes down the sob that threatens to tear itself out of him. Despite his best efforts all he can do is curl up in the corner of the abandoned looking structure he woke up in and cry like he was a kid again.]

[Once he's nearly dehydrated himself, he decides maybe to take stock of his surroundings, which he finds with dismay, to be exceptionally hot desert. He is still clothed in the rags he remembered dying. While his side has closed up, leaving a nasty scar, his clothing is still marred by the blood stains. While concerning, nothing has Mason's nerves more worked up then realizing his mask is nowhere to be found, and he's being forced explore a place full of strange people of which he knows nothing. The desire to hide, and stick to the shadows is so strong in him, but the exhaustion wins out instead. He shuffles into one of the local taverns, gives something of a withering look to the bartender, who whistles and gestures that he take a seat. Mason sits down with the full weight of centuries clinging to him and asks for a glass of water.]

[Stanley's death hadn't been quite so calm. He and Ford did what they were told, they stayed together in the mist as long as they could manage. The mist was thick though and Stanley's eyesight isn't the best on a clear day, so all it took was one second for Ford to slip from his grasp and into the dangerous fog. He did his damnedest to catch up, but it wasn't long before something tripped him, ripped into him, and left him. Everyone does eventually.

There's no moment of relaxation or letting go. He struggles on the ground with only the smallest twitches of movement, trying to summon the strength to get up. Get up, get up, get the fuck up--

Something approaches him and he can't run or hide. Instead of attacking though, it crouches down and yanks off his gas mask. Inhaling mist immediately makes Stanley cough up...fluid? No, blood. It's gotta be blood.

Whoever took off his gas is just staring now and not doing anything, so with great effort he forces his eyes open. A blurry, broad-shouldered man is hovering over him. There's barely any light, but he can still make out the glint of glasses.

His breath catches in his throat, but he's been silent so long the words don't come. He just chokes on copper and metal and broken sounds.]

D...ah. Ugh...

[Easy, kid. I've got you.

The man sounds so far away, and he stubbornly thinks no, he doesn't, he hasn't got shit, but he feels himself being hoisted up in the air anyway. The world spins. ...When was the last time someone carried him?

His memories get hazy after that. He thinks he muttered more to the guy, but maybe he didn't. It's all distant under a dizzying swishing sound in his ears, like he's floating on the ocean...]

Edited 2024-08-11 01:55 (UTC)

"Stanley! Wake up!"

A shadow enters Stanley's field of vision and focuses into Ford, with bright blue sky behind him. Waves crash hard against the beach and the occasional seagull caws. The air is salt and seagrass and it's just like he remembers it.

"Heh. Sorry," he says, though his own voice sounds so weird and alien to him. "Must've dozed off..."

They're on the Stan-o-War, still beached and broken, but with a couple years of repair put into it. Ford is both younger and older than he should be, and Stanley catches himself staring. Ford does too though, and his expression softens.

"Are you okay? Maybe we should get you out of the sun..."

"NO! No, I'm fine! I just...don't worry about it, I'm good. I'm good if you're good. You're...you're good. Right?"

Ford raises an eyebrow, wholly unconvinced, but he holds a hand out to help Stanley up to his feet.

"I knew I'd find you boys out here!"

Stanley snaps his head up and their mother is there, in her famous red dress, walking as close as she can before the turf becomes sand and eats her high heels. There's a camera in her hands - she was always taking pictures, and snuck out to their boat project for some shots on multiple occasions.

All of the air leaves Stanley's lungs. He almost doubles over, like he was suckerpunched.

"...Ma? MA!"

He hops over the side of the boat and runs so fast he falls over in the sand.

"Wait, wait! Lemme get a shot of you two!" she calls out, holding the camera up to her eye. "Ford, help your brother up--"

Ford does as told and slings an arm around Stanley's shoulders, but Stanley still looks like he's seen a ghost and doesn't know whether to be happy or sad or everything all at the same time.

"Ma, wait! I need to talk to you! MA!"

She doesn't come closer, but the sun seems to shine a little brighter. There's a cool breeze. Ford pulls him a little closer with that one arm into something both isn't a hug and isn't not a hug. The urgency is fading from every inch of the moment and it all feels oddly calm.

"Aw, my little Stanley! Don't worry! Everything's gonna be just fine." She grins behind the camera. "Now, say cheese--!"

[And then he wakes up flat on his back, with tears in his eyes. The dream leaves a sort of hopeful afterglow, but he still picks himself up almost immediately to look for shelter. He's not sure what happened, he doesn't get what happened, but he has to get out of the open before he gets hurt again. It's a lot easier to tackle this methodically than sit around and feel things. Plus he has people to find too, and the thought of not finding them makes his stomach turn inside out.

He spends a few hours scouting and trying to figure out what is and isn't kosher here (metaphorically, of course - he'd eat an entire pig right now if he had one available). It doesn't take him long at all to catch on that this is a world where money is exchanged for goods and services, and even less time to figure out where he can get some caps of his own.

When he enters the tavern to finally get something to drink, there's only one other person there besides the barkeep - someone with a mop of long curly hair he'd recognize anywhere at this point.]

M^ay--

[Stan flushes red and covers his mouth before he can even finish. What the fuck was that noise?! He coughs, hoping that no one heard that, and decides to just take a seat next to Mason at the bar, and wave a hand in his peripheral vision. Hey Mason! It's Stanley!!!]

Edited 2024-08-11 01:57 (UTC)

[What was that sound. Mason had come dangerously close to dozing off right in his half finished glass of water when something cut through the ambience enough to startle him awake again.]

[He gives a less than dignified snort as he looks around, feeling his nerves rise again at being caught unawares. God if this had been Deerington it might have cost him his-]

Stanley!?

[Record scratch, nothing else matters. Stanley is suddenly sitting next to him and his brain is desperately trying to reboot.]

[THAT NOISE MUST HAVE BEEN SOMEONE ELSE, CERTAINLY NOT STANLEY...

Stanley beams wide though and without thinking about the state of either of their clothes he pulls Mason in for the quickest little tight hug. Good to see you, bro!

Neither of them are capable of letting their guard down for more than literally half a second though, so it doesn't last. Stanley settles quickly into the seat next to him and gestures to the bartender. He grins, points rapidly between himself and Mason, and then mimes tilting a glass toward his mouth before offering the guy a Lemon Fanta cap from a little red bag. He doesn't specify a drink for them, but the guy will figure it out, probably.

As soon as the bartender has their back turned, Stanley slides the bag over to Mason so he can see what he's earned. There's a couple dozen bottle caps in there, mostly grape and lemon, but a few strawberries as well. Not bad for just a few hours, right?]

[Ah- Pretty much everything he wanted to say and ask dies in his throat when Stanley pulls him in for a hug. Though he allows him to disengage, Mason definitely holds him ...very tightly for a moment, and almost doesn't want to let go at first, before he gets his shit together and tries to brush it off like that didn't happen At all.]

[He catches what he's doing, but before he can even say anything, Stanley already has the bottle caps out. Ah ...of course.]

[Someone's already been busy. He has a tired smile on his face despite it all as he looks at the bag.]

You've already gotten your feet under you, huh? Nice work. I can't believe you caught me slacking off.

[He gives him a light little punch in the shoulder.]

...I'm glad to see you. Is your brother with you...?

[All it takes is "Nice work" for Stanley's whole face to light up. He did it! He did a good job! And now neither of them have to worry about money for at least a couple days, probably!

He laughs though and slugs Mason back, just as lightly. It's a small bit of normalcy that neither of them get very often. He doesn't have to say it out loud for Mason to know the feeling is mutual. He's glad to see him too, and glad to immediately prove himself useful.

At mention of Ford though, that happy face falls. He shakes his head and then points from himself, to his temple, to Mason in quick succession. I - thought - you? You don't have him? The more that realization sets in, the deeper the pit in his stomach grows. Of course he's not with Mason. He was supposed to be with Stanley. Ford's missing and it's entirely his fault.

While Stanley is on this guilty face journey, the bartender sets down two non-water drinks for them - something cold and amber-colored in a tall glass.]

[Ford isn't with him, just like Mabel wasn't with him. Or rather, they haven't run into each other, yet.]

[He's quiet while he processes this, but after a moment or two the gears start to turn. He slams back an impressive amount of whatever's in that glass. It's good, whatever it is. Alcoholic. It's so nice to be able to enjoy something for fucking once despite the suddenly more concerning turn things have taken. Once the mug is on the counter again, he will start to rattle off his thoughts.]

We'll just go look for them. If you and I woke up here, then the odds are good they're here, too. We can both cover plenty of ground and while we look we can scout places to stay.

[It's Mason's Plan Mode, which Stanley should know very well. If he makes plans then the anxiety and dread can't catch him.]

[He's very familiar with Plan Mode, since he's always ready to fall into his job as second in command when it comes to keeping the family safe. Sure, sometimes he goes a little off-script, but together they always get things done. They know how to split up duties and focus on what they have to do to get by.

Mason takes a long, impressive, very cool swig of his drink and rattles off what they have to do next, and it seems to pull Stanley out of his mood a bit. He gives a firm nod, but when he tries to do the same with his own drink he chokes on it and as he coughs he has to wave an arm to insist he's fine he's FINE he just tried to breathe alcohol that's all!!!

After he catches his breath he takes that again and nods one more time. Yeah. They'll find them. If they're here, they'll find them.]

[Mason is very kind to him and doesn't laugh, but he does have to turn and check his coat conveniently to hide the way he almost smiles. Cough.]

[But that's good. That means that Stanley isn't dwelling on anything he shouldn't, which he could tell he was from the expression on his face once they'd established their missing siblings. They've always pulled together by being busy. This ...this would be no different.]

[He stands, to start getting ready to head off. After a moment, he pauses and taps on Stanley's shoulder, then gestures to the bloodstain on his shirt.]

...Are you still injured?

[He doesn't know if he wants to ...call attention to the obvious thing here, which is that Stanley looks like he got fatally wounded. That both of them waking up in this place happened because they were both dead.]

[When Mason stands, so does Stanley. This is no time to sit around and drink; they have kids to find. Stanley's already mulling over the different places he's already been and where else they could look when Mason taps his shoulder. He looks down at his shirt as if he's noticing the bloodstain for the first time. Oof. That does look pretty bad, huh?

Stanley shakes his head, and gives two thumbs up. No, he's good. But this has him looking over Mason for the first time and noticing that he's got some blood stains too. Hesitantly, Stanley reaches out and gives Mason's coat a tug near the worst of the damage, and he looks genuinely concerned. Are you still injured?

They're important questions, even without getting into what happened or if either of them are mentally okay. It's just another thing on the survival checklist. If they're hurt, they need to stop and take care of that, find supplies for that. They won't get far looking for Ford and Mabel with fatal injuries.

The implication is sinking in though, but it's bigger than just the two of them. Neither option is great - if they both died to get here then either their siblings died too and are around somewhere...or, they didn't and they're in Deerington alone. It just makes Stanley antsier, and even quicker to head for the door.]

[Yes. It’s getting harder and harder for Mason to continue compartmentalizing everything that’s threatening to broil out of him. Keeping th tight lid on his fraying nerves is only going to happen for so long, now when they’re both looking at the hard truth.]

[Mason’s hands shake for a moment, but he shakes his head, pulling his coat back a little for Stanley to see. The rip in his clothing is big enough that the scarred skin is visible. He’s healed, somehow or another.]

I’m fine.

[He shakes his head, tries to offer him a smile but ultimately just swallows it back down. They had siblings to find, then Mason could fall to pieces over how much he’s fucked up. If they’re all dead, then their blood is on his hands, and he can’t run from it forever.]

Let’s keep an eye out for clothing, too. The smell of blood might attract something.

[Mason's fine. Stanley's fine. They're both fine. No one's going to fall to pieces right this second, so Stanley takes it at face value. He won't push if Mason doesn't.

The clothing thing is a good point though. It had gotten him a couple of pity points when he was out earlier, but generally walking around covered in blood is just asking for something to smell it and come try and rip your insides out. They need clean clothes.

Stanley gestures for Mason to hold out his hand, and when he does he'll pour about half of his bag of caps into his palm. It's not much and he didn't exactly count out an amount, but it might be enough for him to get something to wear. And hey, if that doesn't work Stanley can always steal him something.]

[Everything’s fine. They just need to keep moving and everything will be fine. Keeping moving is what kept them alive until it didn’t, after all.]

[Mason startles a little when Stanley pours the caps into his hands like that. He almost doesn’t want to take them. Stanley earned them, even though they’ve always shared everything up until now. Ah, the guilt is going to eat him alive at this point.]

[He takes them in the end, giving him a grateful smile. He can’t falter now, not when they still have to find the others. The guilt can destroy him later, but right now Stanley needs him to keep his shit together.]

Let’s meet up back here when the sun sets.

[Too bad, Mason. Stanley isn't going to take no for an answer and it shows all over his face. It isn't until Mason accepts it and offers a smile that Stanley eases.

He nods, and holds up a hand so they can deal the deal with a high-six - or, a rare high five, since Ford hasn't been found yet. They've got this. They can do this!!!]

[They can't do this. Or at least, Stanley can't do this.

Stan headed more toward the east, getting himself a new outfit at the East Street Bazaar before trying to find places Ford or Mabel would be getting their noses into. There was a general store with craft supplies, but no sign of Mabel there. He did pick up a green leather-bound notebook and pens after challenging the tough lady working there to arm wrestling to lower the price - he lost and she didn't, but she said she liked his moxie. He also came across a forge and some kinda old timey pharmacy, which were both great things to keep in the back of his head, but his feet carried him to the one place he was sure Ford would have made it to - the Docks. The place is pretty abandoned though, and after a couple hours of searching and throwing rocks in the water and feeling sorry for himself, he has to admit this might've been wishful thinking. Maybe it's just where he hoped Ford would be.

He gets back to the Tavern first, leaning against the wall outside with his arms crossed like some punk, face half-hidden in his hood, but he's really just feeling pretty lousy about failing to find anyone. But hey, maybe Mason had better luck?]

[This is rough, and Mason feels like he is low-key-high-key standing at the edge of a panic attack the entire time. Being around people and expecting hostility from locals and then not getting it, looking around for any signs of the others and finding nothing, feeling lost in a place he doesn’t know after spending [???????] years in the same town and knowing it inside and out. Everything about this has him deeply overstimulated.]

[But he does manage to find clothes, and …throwing out that old coat was a lot harder than he expected it to be. As Wastes, they simply did not own things, just the clothing on their backs. To lay that to rest…]

[He can’t think about this now. He takes to the south and west, passing through the SEAMEN Research center looking for Ford specifically, but more or less checking every shop he can find for Mabel. She would be anywhere and everywhere, honestly. Both the kids would.]

[As the sun sets, Mason trudges in late, empty handed. Feet like lead. Did the sun get to him? Is he just tired…? He thinks he sees Stanley, just a little more-]

[Mason drops to the ground about ten feet away from Stanley.]

[Stanley spots Mason, and he's about to wave at him when the guy just. Drops half-dead to the dirt in front of him. The pity party is instantly over and Stanley rushes to his side.

At first he just gives Mason's shoulder a couple of rough shakes, but maybe that's not enough. This is important, maybe even life or death, so he doesn't hesitate to call out to him--]

M^as_on!

[He hates his stupid cracking out-of-practice voice, but making sure Mason is okay is more important. He does checks that feel almost routine now - is there a heartbeat? Is he breathing? Is there a wound to tend to?]

[He is pale and sweating, and looks like he’s been out in the heat a little too long. Otherwise he isn’t wounded, and he’s breathing but just a little shallower.]

[It takes a few rough shakes to stir him, but what really finally brings him around is …]

Snnrk-!

[After all that time of having his voice be made fun of, finally his comeuppance…]

[WOW, FUCK YOU TOO, MASON.

Stanley is red-faced with embarrassment and drops him maybe a little more roughly than he should given the circumstances, but if he's alive enough to laugh at him then he's probably going to be fine. ...Probably

Still, Mason's got to get out of the sun. Stanley gets behind him and scoops him up under the arms, and shifts him a little until he has a good grip on him, and then lugs his dead weight into the tavern. This time he nudges Mason into a booth so he doesn't have to balance at a bar stool and can rest his head on the table if he needs to.

Soon, Stanley is nudging a tall glass of water against the side of Mason's face like it's an ice pack. He's gotten them a big pitcher from the bartender, which makes this the least they've had to worry about water in a long time.]

Oof! haha- sorry, I’m sorry…!

[He sounds pretty weak and he is literally dead weight as Stanley drags his sorry ass inside. He takes his place with his face on the table, groggily reaching for the glass so he can continue holding it to his face.]

…s’too hot out here, Stanley.

[Once a Californian…]

Didn’t have any luck.

[Really, Stanley shouldn't be doing much better. New Jersey isn't exactly known for oppressive heat after all, but a lot of the places he looked were indoors or by water.

He mutters something in the affirmative - not a whisper, but more of a mumble than a "yeah it's too damn hot here". He's still a little embarrassed, but at least he got something to help continue avoiding the problem.

After a second of scribbling, he pushes his open notebook under Mason's nose. Maybe it'll be easier than charades while he's feeling like shit.]

ME EITHER

BIG DESERT

LOCALS SAID ITLL GET COLD AT NIGHT

[The unspoken part being that, if they stay here and rest long enough for Mason to get his bearings, the temperature will drop and it won't be so oppressive out.]

Edited 2024-08-12 05:43 (UTC)

[Oh?? He startles a little at the notebook sliding towards him enough that he finally properly lifts his head to look. He takes a sip of water.]

That makes sense.

[That was a desert thing, right? He's pretty sure he remembers hearing about that in the past. When he was the kind of person to just read shit like geography books for fun. It is a relief, though.]

I've been eavesdropping a little on the locals. It sounds like ...people showing up here displaced isn't all that strange. [Like Deerington, he doesn't say, but he's sure they're both thinking it.] We should keep looking, but there's a chance they just haven't gotten here yet. There's also word of housing up for grabs in a place called the Daybreak District. I think we should check it out later.

[Stanley's thinking of Deerington, but he's thinking of more than just that. He bites at his lower lip, and takes the notebook again.]

THINK EVERYONE HERE'S "DISPLACED" LIKE US?

[And in case that was somehow too subtle, he doodles a little skull and crossbones and effectively says the quiet part out loud...sort of. As "out loud" as Stanley gets these days. Then, like he never brought up the elephant in the room:]

I WOKE UP NEAR THERE. LOOKED PRETTY SECURE? THEY'RE BIG METAL SHIPPING BINS.

[Of course they'll have to check it out more closely themselves, but a solid metal structure will keep out whatever creatures live here at least, and give them a safe place to sleep.]

[He sees what Stanley's putting down and it makes him fall quiet for a moment.]

[This is really the elephant in the room, huh? The thing he was trying really hard not to think about. The thing he was clinging to denial on. If he died then he had it coming, but the Stans...]

[He sucks in a breath and then ...reaches for the notebook. It's cowardly, but he knows if he tries talking he won't keep it together.]

In the end both of you died, too, huh.

[He taps the pen a moment, then swallows, forcing himself to keep writing.]

I'm such damned fool, if I had just listened to Mabel from the start none of this would have happened. I got my entire family killed...

[He drops the pen and covers his face.]

Waste Pines Find a New Life

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