∞ Beware, beware, be skeptical
Of their smiles, their smiles of plated gold.
Deceit so natural.
But a wolf in sheep's clothing is more than a warning. ∞
(Wolf in Sheep's Clothing)
---------
“Grunkle Stan, I trust you.”
The sound of roaring, like the thunderous crash of waves against a jagged cliff face rang mercilessly in his ears, drowning out all other noise as he stared at the one he thought would always be on his side. Wincing as his heart splintered seeing her smile blissfully unaware of her betrayal. Though it had not ended the world seemed to crumble around him, baring it's ugly face from underneath the delicate mask of ignorance. She had risked all their lives, his life, trusting a man who they barely knew, who'd proven time and time again to be a liar and conman.
He stared at the stranger he'd lived with for the summer, the stranger that had come from a weird portal, and the stanger who'd wagered his life in utter disbelief. They seemed unaware of the danger they'd just been in, the trio chatting amongst themselves ignorant of him. Stanley had his brother back. Stanford could rebuild his life. Mabel was alive. He supposed he should be thankful for that, but his mind idled on the fact that Mabel had no idea this would be the turn out. She'd always been the reckless one, lead by heart while he lead by logic. But he thought she at least had the sense to not kill them all, or at least not risk it. But without a thought she threw it all away without knowing what not pressing that button would do.
That stupid button. Perhaps if there'd been no button, no choice in the matter he'd have been just as cheerful as her. But that wasn't the case, she chose Stan over her own brother, he'd begged her to press it, to end the nightmare. Scared more for her life than his since she was closest to the danger, he thought she'd be the same, he thought if she didn't care about her own life she'd at least care about his. He'd thought wrong it seemed.
The roaring in his ears quietened to a soft static as the world came back. He was not dead, he decided to focus on that for now. Which was probably a good idea because at some point amidst his brooding Mabel had remembered her brother existed and had been trying to get his attention. She was waving her hand in front of his eyes which had been firmly staring at the button. Her expression showed concern but he wondered how much of it was genuine. If she could just dismiss him as she had mere moments ago how much did she actually care?
"Dipper?" Her voice sounded like it was a million miles away, her touch as she shook his shoulder lightly felt like pins and needles stabbing his skin. "Are you okay?"
A soft aching became apparent as he realised his jaw was clenched tightly, teeth grinding slightly. Parting his lips and loosening his jaw to answer he paused. Was he okay? He considered his physical self, though debris was scattered around the weird secret basement of the shack it had all somehow miraculously avoided hitting him. His fall when gravity returned had been minimal. So why did it feel like he was caught in a tumble drier full of rocks? "I'm fine." He answered, looking her over. Covered in a fine layer of dirt and dust, as he was sure he also was, she was otherwise unharmed. She accepted this, his hesitation dismissed easily, he supposed he hesitated a lot naturally and so this wasn't alarming to her.
"Grunkle Ford says he wrote the journals, isn't that cool? You can finally talk to the Author!" She said, perhaps to attempt in cheering him up. He glanced at the man in glasses, Grunkle Ford he guessed. In his internal crisis he'd not heard introductions, but he was the only person there who's name was unknown. The author. He should be happy, excited even, to have found the author. But no matter how he looked at it the whole thing seemed much less important to him than it once had been. Nothing seemed important anymore. He realised she was waiting for a response and slowly licked his dry lips, regretting it as he noted they were dry from the dusty grime that he'd just tasted.
"Yeah, cool." His voice sounded monotone, empty of enthusiasm. Mabel beamed at him as though he'd given a response as colourful and bright as her sweater, ever the positive attitude. He stood beside her as the familiar stranger spoke, not much submitted to memory other than the fact the man's name was Stanford, dubbed Grunkle Ford by Mabel, and that for 30 years he'd been trapped hopping between different dimensions trying to find his way back home while Grunkle Stan tried fixing the portal to bring him back. There was something about how Ford ended up in the portal but Dipper couldn't find the energy to care. He was busy stealing glances at his sister and wondering where they stood.
He was stuck in a loop of hurt and guilt. He felt betrayed by her actions but guilty for feeling that way. She was his twin, he was supposed to have her back and support her, but then why didn't she do the same? Why didn't she listen to his pleas? Did she ever listen to him? He wracked his brain trying to pinpoint moments she actually considered his opinion or feelings. There were moments but they were vastly outweighed by moments she chose something else over him. He felt his jaw clench again and he squeezed to his chest the one journal he'd held onto during the chaos. The first one he'd ever found, journal three.
"Trust no one."
He blinked in surprise at the quiet voice that whispered in his mind. It sounded like his own, but vicious and angry. His grip tightened around the book as a hollow cold spread from the cavity his heard withered in. A seeping decay of doubt slithering from the dark seemed to grip him in a chokehold and for a moment he found it hard to breathe. He swallowed, his throat aching in protest as tears threatened the corners of his eyes. The thought that he couldn't trust Mabel tore through his psyche. Everyone was migrating back upstairs now, Mabel beckoning him to follow her. He lingered a moment, composing himself and taking one last look at the button. That stupid button.
He'd tried to approach Ford over the next few days, journals in hand, intent on using knowledge as a distraction. But the man refused to make time for him, treating his questions as an irritant, quickly retreating or directing Dipper elsewhere. Perhaps the journals reminded him of the horrors he'd witnessed in the portal so after a while Dipper stopped trying to approach the man. Mabel continued on as if nothing had changed between them. Dipper wanted to believe in that naive optimism but something felt askew, like their relationship had dislodged and hung by a thread. Spiderwebs of cracks were rapidly spreading across the glass of calm he'd constructed with every smile she gave him.
One night, about a week after the portal incident, while the twins settled in for bed, Dipper noticed Mabel staring intensely at him. He rolled onto his side, silently willing her to get whatever was on her mind out into the open. She seemed troubled for a moment and then smiled softly at him, and he suppressed a grimace. "Dipper..." She said, his name sounding so ugly in her mouth. "You don't think we'll turn out like Stan and Ford, do you?"
He idled, was she asking if they'd grow old? She wasn't that naive was she? "What do you mean?" He queried.
Her hands began to play with the sleeve hems of her bed time sweater, little sheep stitched into the deep blue fabric. "I mean, they used to be best friends and then they got all stupid." She explained, though it was hardly clarifying what her question was since Dipper hadn't really paid attention to the elder set of twins tragic backstory. "Promise me you won't get stupid?" It was difficult to not to be offended since the one who usually acted without thought was her.
"Not stupider than you, dumb dumb." He replied. She laughed as if it was a joke, was it a joke? Of course it was a joke he wouldn't insult his sister like that. But he neglected to laugh.
"Goodnight, Stupid." She yawned, rolling over so her back was towards him.
"Goodnight, Stupid." He repeated. His gaze turned towards the roof. It had been a while now, usually when he felt upset with Mabel the feeling passed after a few hours, a day max. But the persistent negative emotions had been clawing at him endlessly, he'd hardly slept since that day. It felt like he was teetering upon the edge of a massive pit, too dark to see the bottom, too cold to consider falling. But just alluring enough to keep him tiptoeing the very edge. "Stupid." He mumbled, tracing the natural wood lines of the rafters above with his eyes until sleep would be kind enough to visit him.
"Stupid."
End.
Authors Note:
Dear reader;
Welcome to the end of the rebooted prologue to Devilish Minds. I hope you enjoyed. I can't say for sure when the first true chapter will come but hang in there, I'm working on it. Soon we'll be back to where we left off and onwards into the story. I hope you can bare with my impulse to improve my existing work. As always I thank you for your support, leave a comment about what you liked so far, or what you don't like, or even just a joke, I like jokes. Until I see you again,
Love Gily. ❤️
Edit: Noticed an inconsistency all on my own! Anyway it's been a while since I've seen the show and I momentarily got muddled up about the buttons use. I had written as though the button would activate the portal when canonically the button was actually to stop it and Mabel had decided not to press it. Anyway I'm pretty sure I fixed that now.