lumberjack queen

ungodlyobsessions  asked:

Hey so imagine if when Bill ripped Dipper's soul out of his body, he actually had to, like, fly into it to inhabit it, but he was sparring with Dipper's soul for a little while, so Dipper's body kinda just remained a lifeless corpse for a minute.

You know, I actually thought about that the other day. I mean, it would make sense that Bill wouldn’t have been able to just get into Dipper’s body at the same time as he was pulling Dipper’s soul out.





What if when Weirdmageddon was over, everyone was scrambling to throw something together for Dip and Mabel’s birthday and there was some fun character dynamics playing here and there while everyone was getting together?

Soos and McGucket were in charge of decorating. Stan was getting presents (Ford wrote him a shopping list). Ford and Wendy were in charge of the cake since no one else was available.

Soos fusses with streamers. McGucket’s blowing up balloons. Stan has to literally dig through abandoned stores to find anything suitable. The kids weren’t allowed to come out and see what they were doing (probably packing in their bedroom).

Ford takes over the kitchen entirely and tells Wendy to pretty much stay out of his way while he gets to work. To which, Wendy is fine with this and sits back on the counter, just sticking around to make sure Ford doesn’t blow up the kitchen.

Soos and McGucket start talking about anime and robots. Stan sees Pacifica and helps her pick something out for Dipper while they’re rummaging. Ford is taking care of things fine but while he’s working on the icing, asks for Wendy to stop the beater and add this and that to the batter.

“So dude, if you could make robots like that then you should probably make sure their kawaii.”

“What’s.. Kawaii..ya mean make them all cute ‘n such?”

“Yeah dude, it’d be awesome! Like, dude, people would love it and completely overlook its violent tendancies. …Kinda like Giffany now that I think about it.”

“Well I already got Mabel a golf club. Figured why not.”

“Mm. Yeah, Mabel would like that. But you’re not getting Dipper a suit.”

“Well he needs SOME kinda class!”

“Leave that to me kid. Look, the kid’s already into paranormals and such. Kinda like a mini Ford. Try something.. I dunno. Ghost-related or something.”

“…like a movie?”

(sigh) Wendy I’m still a little caught up with these fondants. Could you grease the pans now?”

“Yeah sure.”

“And when you get done with that could you stop the batter and make sure it’s up to par?”

“Got it.”

“Never mind, I think I made enough. I’ll check the batter. Tell me what you think.”

“…Not sure they want Bill all over their cake, dude.”

“…You think?“

“Yeah you might wanna try something more about- Dude! Get out of the cake! No one wants your weird alien germs all over the batter!”

Finally everyone’s finishing up and things are being sat together so Dipper and Mabel could have a good birthday with all their friends and family and..

“FORD! What the HELL did you do with the cake?!”, Stan complains.

“What? I-!”

“Dude, I don’t think Dipper liked being called a Pinetree..”, Soos comments.

“It was Wendy’s idea, okay?”, Ford grumbles. “She said pine trees and shooting stars. Not me.”

“Ugh. That pink is disgustingly bright!, Pacifica states.

“We were pressed for time.”, Wendy shrugs. “It fits Mabel.”

“I don’t care what color the stupid cake is! Come on, Sixer, it’s your FIRST time celebrating a birthday with these kids and-”

“Guys. Shooting Star and Pinetree is perfect for them and definitely a heck of a lot lot better than other ideas.”, Wendy explains. “So just deal with it okay? It’s FINE. They’ll like it!”

Stan sighs, rolling his eyes. Soos shrugs and mildly agrees. Ford simply sighs resides to centering the cake on the table. Pacifica fusses over lining up the presents neatly.

“…He tried to put triangles on it din’t he?”, McGucket asks quietly while Wendy gets herself a small cup of punch.


“….well he ain’t changed a bit.”

“I’d be scared to see what he’d do for his and Stan’s birthday.”, Wendy smirks. McGucket snickers.