[When the glass clears from Dipper's eyes, he sort of wants to hide from the entire world and never speak to anyone ever again as he slowly dies from embarrassment.
Unfortunately, that's sort of hard to do when you share your bedroom with your sister. Yeah, he could technically go find another room or keep hanging out in the caves like he was doing towards the end of the event, but that would feel even weirder. And now that the glass is out of his eyes, the anger that was keeping him from talking to her seems dumb and fighting with Mabel always makes him feel awful.
So he heads back to their room, but not before stopping at a closet to grab a peace offering. He knocks on the door, hoping she's in there. He lost track of her during the event, so he's not sure anymore.]
[Mabel's presently sitting in the middle of her bed hiding inside her sweater. there's about ten sweaters strewn around her, all of them snagged and unpleasant looking with angry designs, like someone was knitting out of fury and didn't care about quality.
She feels so icky, and hearing Dipper's voice just makes it worse.]
[He pushes open the door, walking over to sit next to her on the bed. This is his fault, at least partially, and he feels terrible about it. He sets down his peace offering in front of her.]
Well, there's a tub of rainbow sprinkles the size of your head waiting for you if you want to come out of Sweatertown.
[she hesitantly pulls her arm back into her sleeve and flails out her hand to get a handful of the sprinkles to prove that they're there. satisfied, she pulls her head out of her sweater and dejectedly shoves the sprinkles into her mouth.]
I'm sorry for what I said, Dipper. I didn't mean it... [she frowns] Well, I guess I did mean it, but it wasn't anything I wanted to say out loud. I don't really think like that all the time.
[she looks at her horrible sweater abominations scattered around her.] Yeah...
[her uncertainty isn't so much about whether or not she knows Dipper thinks so little about her- it's the fact that this happened and they couldn't stop it, and suddenly Wonderland isn't as fun as it was before.]
I don't know if this place as cool as I thought it was before.
What, me dying didn't tip you off to that part? [His mouth twists, not entirely a smile, but there's some bitter humor there.]
I don't know, Mabel. It's definitely not perfect, but I still kinda like it here. There are a lot of people who-- oh, man, Sansa! [He groans, falling backwards on the bed.]
[she winces and ducks half of her head back into her sweater.] You wouldn't've come back from it if we weren't in Wonderland.
[which proves his point, really, and she pulls herself back out of her sweater, dragging the bowl of sprinkles closer to her. about the only thing that could drag her out of a funk right now is her matchmaking senses and with a handful of sprinkles poised to be shoved in her mouth, she stops short, eyes wide.] What did you say to Sansa?
We fought about politics, mostly. [Dipper drags his hat down over his face.] And I told her she shouldn't go home. Which she shouldn't. Her world sounds terrible. But then she started going on about duty and family and stuff and... I don't know. It just got bad. I was a jerk. [So was she, but Dipper isn't going to say that now.]
Well, she shouldn't go home, but... That probably wasn't the best time to bring it up. [she shoves the sprinkles into her mouth, ignoring the fact that they're now speckled all over her cheeks.] At least she probably knows it was mostly just Wonderland being stupid and not... entirely you.
[He sits up, frowning unhappily as something he really doesn't want to think about nags at his brain. He was a jerk. To Mabel, to Sansa, to everyone he talked to. But the fact is, nothing he said was anything new. Not really. Sure, he would never have normally said it, but he'd thought it all before, in his darkest moments. Does that mean he's usually a jerk? And worse, does that mean the stuff everyone else said to him is stuff they'd actually thought as well?
He reaches for a handful of Mabel's sprinkles. They won't help, but it's kind of nice to pretend they might.]
Edited (I SAID JERK TOO MANY TIMES) 2015-10-06 06:33 (UTC)
[She pushes the giant container closer to him so he can have some too. Sprinkles have healing powers, bro-bro. It's time you learned this.] Maybe you can get her a nice gift or something...
[Because surely that will distract everyone from the bad feelings. Not everyone is as easily distracted as Mabel is.] Or just apologize, instead of obsessing over it. She probably feels bad too.
I'm not obsessing. I'm just thinking. [He takes another handful of sprinkles and chews on them angrily.] I wish I could do more studying the events as they happened. It's so hard to figure things out once they're already over.
[It is, and it'll even get a nod from Dipper. It makes sense, though he doesn't think it's the full story.]
But sometimes nothing changes in your head, it's just the world that's different. Or it only changes a little. It's just so hard to find any kind of workable pattern here.
Dipper, have you read the stories about this place? Wonderland's not supposed to have a pattern. It's all nonsense. That's the point- it's a place where there's no rules and nothing has to make sense.
[she taps her chin thoughtfully.] So maybe we're approaching it the wrong way... Maybe it's like President Trembly's riddles.
Huh. [It makes a lot of sense, actually, and would explain why Dipper's serious method of gathering data and analyzing it has failed so hard. Not that he has any plans to stop. He needs to record everything. Just in case.]
So you think we should look at it from a more... silly angle?
Yeah. [she hops off the bed, nearly upending her sprinkles in doing so.] It's people's memories, right? So it's probably more like being in Stan's head than it is anything else, which we fixed by being clever and silly. And also... ugh... [a realization hits her.] That explains why Bill is so comfortable here.
[Dipper puts out a hand to catch the sprinkles. Mabel might not mind sleeping in a bed filled with sprinkles, but she'd probably be happier just eating them.]
He claimed he wasn't actually trapped like the rest of us for a while, but after we folded him into a hat, I'm starting to doubt it. [A beat. Dipper narrows his eyes.] Unless he was just trying to lull us into a false sense of security.
We did get off pretty easy from that. [unless Dipper's death and the subsequent trauma and nightmares from that were Bill's doing, but that's probably giving him way too much credit.]
And before he acted like he just let us out of Stan's head, even though we slammed his stupid flat face into the ground. He's hard to figure out.
Maybe Great Uncle Ford knows more than he's written down. [Dipper gets up, going over to grab the Journal off his shelf.] There are a few bits I haven't managed to decode yet, but....
[Mabel looks over at Dipper and gives him a small, awkward smile.] Heh. So you're back to trusting the journals again, huh?
[she has mixed feelings about it- Dipper not being obsessed with them was a nice reprieve for awhile, but she should have figured the arrival of THE AUTHOR would give him his passion back, which is important for him, but also... You know. A problem.]
I never didn't trust them. I just... realized they weren't entirely relevant to our stay in Wonderland.
[That's the best way for him to put it if he wants to feel like he stopped carrying them around all the time for a good reason, not because he was scared and angry and hurt. It wasn't the journal's fault he died, and now Ford's here and so much cooler than Dipper ever imagined. He trusts the journals, and he trusts Ford.]
Besides, there's no better source on Bill, that much is sure.
Yeah, even if he's not trapped here and this is just a weird vacation for him, it's not like we're gonna find books on freaky triangle monsters in the library.
[Because Dipper would have found them already. He's a nerd.]
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backdated to right after shattered sight
Unfortunately, that's sort of hard to do when you share your bedroom with your sister. Yeah, he could technically go find another room or keep hanging out in the caves like he was doing towards the end of the event, but that would feel even weirder. And now that the glass is out of his eyes, the anger that was keeping him from talking to her seems dumb and fighting with Mabel always makes him feel awful.
So he heads back to their room, but not before stopping at a closet to grab a peace offering. He knocks on the door, hoping she's in there. He lost track of her during the event, so he's not sure anymore.]
Hey, Mabel?
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She feels so icky, and hearing Dipper's voice just makes it worse.]
There's no Mabel here.
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[He pushes open the door, walking over to sit next to her on the bed. This is his fault, at least partially, and he feels terrible about it. He sets down his peace offering in front of her.]
Well, there's a tub of rainbow sprinkles the size of your head waiting for you if you want to come out of Sweatertown.
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I'm sorry for what I said, Dipper. I didn't mean it... [she frowns] Well, I guess I did mean it, but it wasn't anything I wanted to say out loud. I don't really think like that all the time.
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I know you're good for a lot more than knitting sweaters. You know that, right?
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[her uncertainty isn't so much about whether or not she knows Dipper thinks so little about her- it's the fact that this happened and they couldn't stop it, and suddenly Wonderland isn't as fun as it was before.]
I don't know if this place as cool as I thought it was before.
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I don't know, Mabel. It's definitely not perfect, but I still kinda like it here. There are a lot of people who-- oh, man, Sansa! [He groans, falling backwards on the bed.]
Guess I have a lot of people to apologize to.
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[which proves his point, really, and she pulls herself back out of her sweater, dragging the bowl of sprinkles closer to her. about the only thing that could drag her out of a funk right now is her matchmaking senses and with a handful of sprinkles poised to be shoved in her mouth, she stops short, eyes wide.] What did you say to Sansa?
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[He sits up, frowning unhappily as something he really doesn't want to think about nags at his brain. He was a jerk. To Mabel, to Sansa, to everyone he talked to. But the fact is, nothing he said was anything new. Not really. Sure, he would never have normally said it, but he'd thought it all before, in his darkest moments. Does that mean he's usually a jerk? And worse, does that mean the stuff everyone else said to him is stuff they'd actually thought as well?
He reaches for a handful of Mabel's sprinkles. They won't help, but it's kind of nice to pretend they might.]
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[Because surely that will distract everyone from the bad feelings. Not everyone is as easily distracted as Mabel is.] Or just apologize, instead of obsessing over it. She probably feels bad too.
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[She shrugs. It's a reasonable theory.]
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But sometimes nothing changes in your head, it's just the world that's different. Or it only changes a little. It's just so hard to find any kind of workable pattern here.
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[she taps her chin thoughtfully.] So maybe we're approaching it the wrong way... Maybe it's like President Trembly's riddles.
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So you think we should look at it from a more... silly angle?
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He claimed he wasn't actually trapped like the rest of us for a while, but after we folded him into a hat, I'm starting to doubt it. [A beat. Dipper narrows his eyes.] Unless he was just trying to lull us into a false sense of security.
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And before he acted like he just let us out of Stan's head, even though we slammed his stupid flat face into the ground. He's hard to figure out.
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[He can't admit that to the Author.]
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[she has mixed feelings about it- Dipper not being obsessed with them was a nice reprieve for awhile, but she should have figured the arrival of THE AUTHOR would give him his passion back, which is important for him, but also... You know. A problem.]
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[That's the best way for him to put it if he wants to feel like he stopped carrying them around all the time for a good reason, not because he was scared and angry and hurt. It wasn't the journal's fault he died, and now Ford's here and so much cooler than Dipper ever imagined. He trusts the journals, and he trusts Ford.]
Besides, there's no better source on Bill, that much is sure.
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[Because Dipper would have found them already. He's a nerd.]
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