SHEEPY'S [@MrSheepyNoNo] STORY [Unfinished. TW!!] It was weird. Dying felt strangely ethereal. He couldn’t pick out any of the details— Everything was too blurry. The only thing he could recognize was his sister’s face, and that was pretty blurry, too. Everything faded in and out. The world seemed to.. Sway? No, swirl around him. He knew that Stan, or maybe Ford? He could tell who was driving— (His gut told him it was Stan) was in a hurry to get him to the hospital. Dipper knew Mabel was trying to hush him, get him to save his strength, but it was as though he were on smile-dip, or something. He couldn’t stop from laughing, albeit quietly- Although maybe it wasn’t quiet at all- at it all. They were all worrying for no reason! (Right?, his brain had begun to question if he really was going to make it out of this alive…) He was fine! (He should try telling that to the stomach wound.) He let out a noisy whine when Mabel shushed him for the thousandth time. Or maybe the billionth. Or some kind of number he couldn’t comprehend right now. “Why do I have to stay quiet?” His words slurred. At some point he wouldn’t be strong enough to even make any noise. Or laugh. Maybe his laughing had started off loud and had gradually started to soften as he continued to lose blood. Had the bleeding stopped? He couldn’t tell in the moment, everything felt far away, yet right in his face at the same time. “Because you need to save your strength, stupid,” Mabel replied, almost teasing yet teary at the same time. He could sense she was trying so hard to keep it together. She’d be much happier when he recovered. (If he ever truly did. A bleak thought that came unbidden. A hard possibility, and maybe even truth.) Suddenly he felt too tired to fight, and he struggled to respond. “M’kay.” This was truly only more worrisome, but he couldn’t care right now. He felt so tired.. But he tried to stay awake for Mabel, even in his blood-loss-driven stupor. Strange, what one is willing to do for a sibling … And what one isn’t. It didn’t take long, or maybe it did, to get to the hospital. They rushed him in, much to the nurses- Or doctors? Or visitors? -Surprise. Without a word, the people surrounding him seemed to recognize the state he was in. Someone slipped up to a familiar face,, Either Stan or Ford, and asked him what Dipper’s blood type was. The person was responded with an unsure stammer, and then someone else came up (This one was probably Ford, and the other was probably Stan, looking back on it) and answered, albeit his voice seemed to shake, missing an assurance that should be there. … He was going to make it out of this, right? Mabel had stayed with him as strangers placed him on a moving bed. He knew there was a proper word for it, but he couldn’t think of it. Everything was fuzzy. Mabel had stayed with him as they wheeled him to a room where they could set him up to some kind of thing… He wasn’t sure was it was called. The kind of thing you saw in TV shows. Mabel tried to keep his eyes open. “Dipper! Dipper, listen to me! Y-You need to stay awake, okay??” Her voice was uneven. Instinctively, he tried to raise his hand and press it against her cheek. “Are you okay?” He heard himself whisper. Mabel held back tears as she took his hand the moment he tried to lift it. “I’ll be fine, Dipper. J-Just stay awake for me.” He heard himself speak again- “Okay.” It was barely a sigh. It was getting harder to breathe. What was pain? He didn’t know anymore. Was it emotional? Was it mental? Or physical, like the sudden air he can feel whipping across a wound that shouldn’t be there? … Across a wound he didn’t remember giving himself, yet he did, somehow. He knows that somewhere, his parents are having the time of their lives. … He’s not sure how they’ll take the news of their only son dying. But then again, they’ve always seemed to love Mabel more. Maybe they’ll miss him simply because Mabel will. —No. They love him just as much. That was just the despair talking. He was going to be fine. He hoped. He was never much for optimism. But most of the doctors were surely at the end of their shifts by now, and one little boy on his deathbed wasn’t going to change anything. Wait, no, he was supposed to be pretending everything was going to be fine! Perhaps he was too tired for that, too. He’d never felt so tired in his life. Suddenly, someone came in. “Your Great Uncle was lucky he took some blood samples and tested them- Although he was a bit off, we’ve managed to find your blood type. They should be by with some bags soon.” He didn’t have the energy to respond. Dipper tried to call for help the moment he realized he might not be going back to the Mystery Shack ever again. Or home. But the person he couldn’t really see anyway(too blurry) was gone. He was slipping. And they wouldn’t get here in time. He’d promised Mabel he’d stay awake, hadn’t he?
Dipper fought to keep his eyes open, but it was so easy to just give up- He couldn’t. He didn’t want to die. He wanted to see his sister again. He tried to get up, but he slumped right back into his bed. Then he tried to push the bed away from the wall, reaching behind himself awkwardly. He realized now that maybe he shouldn’t have done anything but hold his wound a little tighter in an attempt to keep it from getting worse and wait for the doctors. He was so tired and he couldn’t fight anymore. Dipper’d never imagined himself dying in a hospital bed, having bled out from a stomach wound at the age of twelve. But that was what was happening. It was just so absurd. He barked one final laugh, but it was a bitter one. He would always remember that. And then he died. That was all there was to it. He was just simply dead. No ascending to heaven. No going to hell to pay for his sins (although besides from stealing from the cookie jar, there wasn’t any). He was just dead. But not all the way. Mabel had burst into tears when she had heard the news. Stan was physically shaking, trying to hold back his own sobs. He’d gotten the kid killed. He should have turned down their parent’s request to send the kids here. He’d known that Gravity Falls was dangerous. While Mabel and Stanley Pines grappled with grief, Stanford wasn’t having it. They still had one more option. It was dubious, but, frankly? He couldn’t give a [crap]. The moment the nurse had tried to break the news, and he’d realized what had happened, he broke into a sprint. It was stupid, and reckless, and it wasn’t even a [freaking] plan, but he could get in there by the skin of his teeth if he tried. Mabel and Stanley had no idea what was going on, but they followed him, sensing he had one more trick left. If Stanford (and Stanley’s) childhood had said anything, it’s that the world may be full of cheats and liars, but family would always somehow manage to bloom in the rockiest of environments, and he wouldn’t allow his family to be torn apart again.. … Perpetual motion machines be damned. Stealing a body is usually a planned thing. The Pines merely snatched the poor little boy’s hardly even cold body and rushed out the door, even quicker than they had come. Stan shut the car door, trying not to think about what they had done. He supposed they were all criminals now. But how could they be, for taking back the body of someone they had loved so dearly?
